#REVOLVING HEART EMOJI TIMES TEN

[mangoyakult]

a gift out the kindness of his heart

[levi-lover]

New Light Part: 2

College Levi x Reader(Modern AU)

W/C: 5.2k 

T/W: None

A/N: Levi is a moody English major who spends his free time reading at the local cafe. I’m having a lot of fun writing this ! (pic from pinterest)

I’ve put all the parts in one list here:  New Light Masterlist

Levi’s POV

Levi and Erwin sat in silence on their drive home. The blinker would occasionally fill the car with a strong click. Levi counted the lit up rooms in the passing apartments. Five, Six, Seven… He wanted to keep his mind off of you, the way your hair framed your face, your hand caressing the mug, the way you pressed your lips together when you listened someone speak. 

“So, how long have you known (Y/N)?” Erwin asked as if he knew Levi was thinking about you.

“A couple of months,” he responded. 

“Do you like her?” Erwin prodded. 

“She’s nice,” Levi said. 

Erwin nodded, he knew better than to ask further. 

This was how their conversions normally went, Erwin would begin with a blunt statement and Levi would respond in a short manner. From an outsider’s perspective, it might have seemed like the two men weren’t friends but this dynamic worked for them. Erwin was straightforward with what he wanted and Levi didn’t like talking about personal subjects, even with one of his closest friends. 

When they arrived to their shared apartment, they said their goodnights and went into their rooms. Erwin had to be up early tomorrow for a debate meeting and Levi wanted to be alone. After they moved out of the dorms they decided to keep living together because it was the most cost effective option and plus Levi liked that Erwin was as neat as him, almost as neat. They lived in an old, walk-up apartment ten minutes away from Wall Rose University in a quiet neighborhood. They’ve been living there for three years now and had no plans to move out anytime soon. 

Levi opened the window slightly to let the cool air in, raindrops fell from the gutter and filled the dark bedroom with gentle taps.. He laid down on the bed and breathed in the smell of the city and old books in his room. He closed his eyes and let his body melt into the bedsheets, he used the same lavender fabric softener his mom loved. Mmm, I should give her a call tomorrow, he thought. He felt his thoughts bounce around in his head but he was too tired to unravel them. Levi focused on his breathing and eventually his thoughts subdued into lenient bystanders. 

There was silence around him when suddenly, you popped up in his thoughts. Levi let out a small sigh. Fuck, what are the odds of her knowing Hange. Hange of all people,the one person who doesn’t know how to shut up, Levi thought. Frustration began to fill his chest. He wanted you to meet his friends and he wanted to know more about you but he didn’t want it to happen like this. Levi wanted to do it right with you. He knew wasn’t the most charismatic or hospitable person and romance wasn’t his forte. Romance, Levi thought and chuckled. He remembered Erwin’s earlier question. Do I like her? 

He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose with his index and forefinger. He didn’t have a ton of experience with romance. His only relationship with Petra ended in a disaster, she broke up with him after feeling neglected for months. That was never Levi’s intent, he loved her but he didn’t know how to express it. Whenever he saw her on campus she would always give him a smile and wave which Levi would reciprocate. He regretted the way everything ended but he was thankful she didn’t hold a vengeance against him. He was 18 and foolish but he was older now and slightly less foolish. 

Levi looked out the window and started to form a plan in his head. It was evident he had some sort of feelings for you, you were funny, pretty, easy to talk to and you cared about what he had to say. He smiled as he remembered how earnestly you looked at him while he explained the latest book he was reading, he started reading books he thought you might like. Shitballs, maybe I do like her. There was nothing he could do now, he didn’t want to do anything until he had a better understanding about what you were thinking. He nodded his head, proud of his plan. 

The hardwood floor creaked as Erwin walked over to the bathroom. Outside of the window, the sky was beginning to glow with a soft orange hue. Levi closed the curtain, pulled off his clothes and tucked himself into bed. He curled his body around a pillow and slowly began to drift off, eager to wake up to begin his plan. 

The crisp autumn hit your face as you opened the doors to the lecture hall. You felt light and airy after finishing your genetics midterm. It was one of the hardest tests you’ve taken but you felt okay about it. Hange had helped you study for the past week and their enthusiasm and studying techniques helped you out immensely. I owe them big time, you thought. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, it was Hange.

Hange: U FREAKING DID IT!!! IM SO PROUD XD

You: thank uuu, i feel good about it! 

Hange: YAY! We’re out in the park blocks! Join us!

You: ok !

You stared at the screen and re-read the conversation. Join us...they must mean Levi and Erwin. You scoffed the tip of your boot into the pavement, the familiar feeling of nerves began to dance in your stomach. Slowly, you made your way to the park blocks, the on-campus park where students would have picnics and study sessions. Students began to pour out of lecture halls and other buildings, eager to celebrate the end of midterms week. There was an undeniable feeling of excitement as they cheered and laughed. 

You stood at the edge of the park looking for the trio. Levi waved his hand from a picnic bench and smiled at you. Your heart momentarily stopped and you realized you’ve never seen him outside of the cafe. He was wearing a hunter green sweater and his black overcoat. The wind feebly moved through his hair but even from farway you could see the deep circles around his eyes. You made your way to the trio and gave out a half-hearted hello.

“(Y/N)! How do you feel?!” Hange shouted.

“Fucking relieved,” You said. Levi smiled. 

“I’m proud of you, (Y/N). Hange told us about all the hours you studied for the exam.” Erwin gave you a thumbs up. 

“Thanks, dude. How were your midterms?” You asked as you sat down next to Erwin. 

“They went well! I think I got an A on my Political Theory exam but we’ll find out soon enough.” 

“Erwin, you clown, you know you aced that test.” Hange rolled their eyes. “But thanks to the lovely Levi, I know I got an A on my essay.”

Levi frowned. “Tsk, I was surprised you even knew how to spell.”

Hange hit Levi’s shoulders and he swiped back. 

“Hey, stop it you two,” Erwin scolded. “I swear, they’re like children.” 

You laughed and nodded. The Levi you knew was always stoic and calm but Hange brought out a different side of him. He looked happier even when he was annoyed. You grabbed a dead leaf from the table and started to pull it apart, rubbing the dead plant bits between your fingers. 

“Are you good?” Levi’s voice broke your concentration. You looked up and met his gray-blue eyes.

“Yep, all good here.” You smiled at him and he returned one back. 

“That’s fantastic! So tonight. Ymir’s Bar at eight. Got it?” Hange ordered. 

Erwin and Levi nodded in response and looked at you. Your eyes darted between the three of them.

“Uh, I would love but I’m hanging out with a few people tonight.”

“Please, join us! Your friends are more than welcome to come, the more the merrier,” Hange begged.

“I beg to differ…” Levi mumbled.

“Shut up, grumps.” Hange elbowed Levi and returned their gaze back to you. “It’ll be fun, I’ll buy you a shot.”

You rolled your eyes, “fine, but I’m buying you a shot. I owe you, Hange.”

Hange squealed and clapped their hands. “Yay! My friend, Moblit will tag along too. You haven’t met him yet but he’s great and such a talented artist. You’ll love him.”

“Sweet, I’m excited, can you send me the address?” You responded. Hange nodded. 

“Who are you hanging out with?” Erwin asked.

“Oh, uh. My boyfriend and some of our friends,” You muttered. 

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. (Y/N) why didn’t you tell me?” Hange asked, heartbroken. 

Erwin glanced at Levi. He was looking at the grains in the table, his heart sank but he knew better than to let his friends know. 

“I don’t know. It didn’t seem like the most important thing to talk about during our study sessions.” You were unsure why but you felt defensive over Hange’s comment. 

Hange looked hurt at your response, you felt a pang of regret. You didn’t mean to keep your relationship a secret but your life didn’t revolve around your relationship so it felt pointless to bring him up. The air around the table was tense and cold. The sun was setting and the four of you were on the brink of being enveloped by the shadow of a large lecture hall. 

“Regardless, I’m eager to meet your boyfriend and friends,” Erwin said in a strained voice. 

“Yeah, I’m excited for all of you to meet. I think I’m going to go home and get ready.” 

“Of course, we’ll see you soon,” Erwin said in a quiet tone. 

You waved goodbye to all of them, the trio waved back and you made your way to the bus station. As you waited for the bus, you sent your boyfriend a message to meet your new friends at Ymir’s. He sent back a simple thumbs up emoji as a response. You pulled out a pair of headphones and blasted music to drown out your thoughts. Yet Levi’s face kept on appearing in your head, the way the sunlight caressed the hard lines of his face, his honest smile when he was with his friends, the way his eyes lost their glow when you announced you had a boyfriend. We never did anything. Hell, I didn’t even know his name until last week so why should I care what he thinks. We’re just coffee shop friends, that’s it. The bus pulled to the stop, you waited for everyone to exit before entering and made your way to the back window seat. The glass was cold on your forehead but it felt nice. You sighed, preparing yourself for a night out with your new friends and your boyfriend.

Levi’s POV

After you left, Hange and Erwin looked at Levi with concern in their eyes. Levi noticed their stares and glanced up at them.

“The fuck you looking at,” he growled.

“Levi, I’m sorry,” Hange whispered.

“About what?” He scoffed.

Erwin was about to speak but Levi abruptly got up and buttoned his coat. “I’m going home. I’ll see you both at Ymir’s.”

Erwin and Hange exchanged a look and nodded. When Levi made up his mind there was no stopping him. They watched him walk away, his head was slightly lower than usual. Levi walked over to the bike rack and unhooked his black low handle bicycle. In one smooth motion, he drapped his leg over the seat and began to peddle home. The wind hurt his face and burned his lungs but he pushed harder and harder on the pedals. Crouching down on the seat as he biked up the hills, hoping to ride away from the bench to run away from his disillusion that you could love him.

A few hours later, Erwin, Hange and Moblit entered the apartment. Hange called out to Levi.

“Hey, Mr. Grumps! We have something for yoooou!!” They called out.

Levi moaned and rolled out of bed, his bare feet hit the cold ground as he dragged himself to the living.

“What is it, Four Eyes? Hey, take off your disgusting shoes,” he scolded. “Oh, hey, Moblit.”

Moblit raised his head slightly as a hello. He wasn’t a man of many words. Hange held up a bottle of whiskey and grinned. “So we could pre-game. Take this as a thank you present for helping me write my essay.”

Levi rolled his eyes and smiled. He was touched by Hange’s generosity but he would never dare show it to them.

“I’ll grab us some mugs,” Erwin said and began to walk towards the kitchen.

“No, Erwin! Tonight’s a shot type of night,” Hange said deviously.

The three men looked at them and hesitantly nodded. They wanted to relax and unwind but a  night out led by Hange always ended up with someone’s head in the toilet. Still, they each filled a shot glass, cheered and downed the alcohol. They drank for a while, everyone’s faces were glowing. Hange was blasting music and dancing. Moblit watched them with admiration. Erwin and Levi were giggling over something stupid Erwin said.

Erwin looked at the clock, it was closing in on 8. “Shit, we should get going.”

“Hey, man watch your mouth. And maybe we should stay in. It’s cheaper,” Levi said.

“Levi, noooo. We can’t do that. We told (Y/N)  that we would meet her at Ymir’s!” The alcohol was already getting to Hange.

“Who’s (Y/N)?” Mobit asked.

“My friend from genetics! And Levi’s too,” Hange proclaimed.

Levi rolled his eyes. “Tsk, she’s not my friend. I hardly know her.”

“Mmm, if you say so.”

“Whatever, let’s go,” Levi said curtly.

The four of them grabbed their coats and headed to Ymir’s. It was only a ten minute walk from their place. Hange let everyone know that you had already arrived and saved a table on the back patio. As they walked, they talked about their finals and plans for the upcoming break.  When they arrived at Ymir’s, they pushed open the door and entered the humid room. The bar was full of people celebrating the weekend, a couple was making out in one of the booths and people were lined around the bar. They ordered their drinks and walked through the back doors.

Levi’s hands began to sweat and he felt a lump in his throat when he saw you. You looked beautiful under the glow of the patio lights, you were smiling and had a beer glass on your lips and you were laughing. Erwin stood in place and Hange stopped their chatter.

“Oh, so that’s what they’re doing now,” Hange spouted.

They were referring to Zeke who had their arm around you and to Porco and Pieck who were sitting across from you and your boyfriend.

You saw the group at the back entrance and waved. Your nerves from earlier were completely forgotten after your second beer. Zeke rubbed his thumb against your shoulder and you smiled out of habit. You made eye contact with Levi and gave him a toothy grin, his eyes darted away. Your friends looked at the party headed towards them and stopped talking but you didn’t notice.

“Hey, I was wondering if y’all forgot where the bar is,” you joked but no one laughed.

“Erwin. Levi. It’s been a while,” Zeke stated.

You looked at him confused. “What? You know them?”

Zeke chuckled, “yeah, I guess I do.”

“Zeke, it’s nice to see you again. Same to you Porco and Pieck,” Erwin stated.

Porco and Pieck looked at each other and smiled. “It’s nice to see you too, Erwin,” Pieck said in a sweet voice.

Levi glared at the way Zeke’s arm was draped across your shoulder. He gritted his teeth. Hange noticed how tense he was getting and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What a small world! I’m glad everyone knows each other. Guys, sit down!” You motioned at the empty seats at the table, completely misreading the space.

Hange was the first to sit and the rest followed. The table was quiet for a few minutes, everyone sipped on their drinks.

“Levi, I like your scarf,” You pointed to the black scarf draped across his body.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, it’s such a nice scarf,” Zeke repeated.

Levi gave Zeke a dirty look. Hange looked at him nervously and Moblit put a hand on their knee to calm them. You took another sip of your beer.

“Yeah, Zeke, it is a nice scarf. That’s why I complimented it. Anyways, how do you all know each other?” Confidence surged through your veins thanks to the alcohol.

“We were floormates freshman year,” Levi’s dry voice said.

“Wait-oh, I see,” You said.

Erwin began to make casual conversation with everyone while Levi stared at the bottom of his glass. Hange and Moblit joined Erwin and conversed with the other two at the table. Wait, is Zeke the one that called Erwin’s kickback lame? That’s the only possibility, right? Your head was dizzy from the alcohol but the puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Porco called out.

“Huh?”

“You good? It looks like we lost you there for a second.”

“Yeah, Porco. I’m fine,” You said sarcastically.

“Zeke, you and (Y/N) make a good couple,” Erwin said.

Zeke chuckled and squeezed you closer to his toned body, “I know but thank you.”

You kept your head down unsure about what to do. It was evident that Zeke had an issue with Erwin and Levi but you didn’t fully understand why. From what you heard, Zeke was the one who was mean to the other two but Zeke was your boyfriend so you should be on his side, right? You took another swig of your beer.

“Levi, are you still with Petra?” Pieck asked.

Petra? Who the fuck is that, you thought, anger coursed through your veins.

“No,” Levi said.

“Oh, that’s too bad. She was such a lovely girl,” Pieck sighed.

“Who’s Petra?” You asked.

No one answered your question. You looked at Pieck but she kept her eyes down. What the fuck is up?

“She’s a girl I dated freshman year,” Levi explained.

“Oh.”

Hange broke the tension by shouting, “(Y/N), I promised you a shot! Who else wants one?”

Pieck, Moblit and Erwin raised their hands. Hange called over a server and asked for a round of shots for everyone. A few minutes later, they brought tequila shots for the table. Everyone grabbed their lime and raised their glass.

“To finishing finals!” Hange exclaimed.

The table repeated what Hange said and took their shot. You and Porco laughed at Pieck’s face and she stuck her tongue out at you. Zeke kissed your cheek and you leaned into his warm body. For a second, it felt like it did at the beginning of your relationship. You felt safe and hopeful but those feelings disappeared when you caught Levi looking at you and Zeke. Immediately, you pulled away and Zeke frowned. You weren’t one for PDA but after a few drinks you didn’t mind showing your man some love but under Levi’s eye it felt wrong.

“Let’s do another shot!” Hange shouted.

“Hange!! Let me buy you a shot!!” You shouted back.

“(Y/N), you’re the best!!” Hange exclaimed, their cheeks glowing under the lights.

Everyone took another shot and the mood around the table began to lighten as everyone got drunker. Porco made a few jokes that made Erwin laugh. Zeke talked to Hange about their senior thesis. Everything seemed to be falling into place except for Levi. He didn’t make an effort to hold a conversation with anyone. He stared at the empty shot glasses and occasionally smiled at whatever Erwin said.

The patio lights shadows made Levi look heavenly, the soft glow bounced off his pale skin and you tried not to stare but you couldn’t, he looked so pretty.

Zeke could sense that your thoughts were taking you elsewhere so he gave you a kiss on the check. You gave him a smile in return.

The bar was packed and everyone at the table was talking after a new round of drinks. It should be a perfect night, all of your friends seemed to be getting alone but something didn’t feel right. In that moment, you wished it could have been Levi holding your body. Stop, Levi is just a friend, that’s it. I love Zeke. You repeated in your head over and over.

As the night dragged on, you slowly began to lose touch with reality, everything became a happy, surreal blur. Throughout the night, Zeke kept his hands on your body. Before that would have kept you grounded but now it felt off, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol but you didn’t want him to touch you. You kept on smiling and talking to everyone until the bartender called for final orders.

“This was nice but I think we should get going now,” Erwin declared.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Pieck said.

Everyone gathered their belongings and started to walk towards the front door. Zeke walked ahead with Porco and Pieck but you stayed behind with the others. Erwin, Hange and Moblit left you and Levi together alone. Hange’s arm was wrapped around Moblit’s shoulder. They leaned against their body and continued talking.  

“Hey, I had a good time tonight,” You said to Levi who barely acknowledged your existence.

“It was okay,” He stated.

The two of you followed the others.

“But what are the odds of us forming a friendship in this way, right?” You said.

“Tsk, a friendship? We hardly know each other, I wouldn't push it,” Levi responded.

“I guess you’re right,” You muttered.

Levi felt bad about his harsh tone but he didn’t know what to do. He still had the same warm feeling in his chest from before but watching Zeke touch you hurt him. All of you had exited the bar and you walked over to Zeke and he placed his jacket over your shoulders.

“Well, it was, uh, nice to catch up with all of you. Hange thank you for helping my girl study. Get home safe,” Zeke said. You smiled and everyone and waved.

“Zeke, the same to you too. Glad to know you’re doing well. (Y/N) congrats on finishing midterms. See you later,” Erwin said.

“I love yoouuu! I love all of you!” Hange shouted. Moblit still had his arm around Hange to stabilize them.

“Love you too, Hange!” You blew them a kiss.

They all turned and began to walk home. Porco and Pieck had already left in their Uber. You looked at Zeke and he gave you a smile and you smiled back out of habit.

Zeke made conversation on your way back to his place. You wrapped your arms around your body and counted the steps in between each street light. The air around you was dry and your breath fell to the ground in a transparent cloud. Eventually, you made it to Zeke’s apartment, it was highrise close to downtown. When you entered the apartment your attention immediately went to the large windows. They faced the city skyline and the lights poured into the living room and gently outlined the minimal furniture in the room. Zeke led you to the bedroom and began to kiss the back of your neck. His beard tickled your neck and left goosebumps on your skin. You rolled your shoulders and stepped away.

“Come on,” Zeke groaned.

“No, not tonight. I’m really tired,” You said.

You made your way to the bathroom and turned on the harsh lights. The lights bounced off the white tiles and highlighted the bags under your eyes. You stared at yourself for a while, the longer you stared, the faster your thoughts swirled in your head. Is Levi made at me? You splashed cold water on your face and tried to wash off the awkwardness from tonight but no matter how hard you scrubbed, you couldn’t get the image of Levi staring at the empty glasses out of your head.

When you walked back into the bedroom you saw Zeke passed on the bed. You smiled at him and placed a blanket over his body and brushed his hair away from his forehead. You curled up on the opposite side of the bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself. Zeke’s soft snores filled the room, normally that was enough to lull you to sleep but lately it was becoming more of a nuisance. Why am I feeling like this? I love Zeke and he loves me back, that should be enough. So why do I feel so unsure? Zeke wasn’t your first partner but he was your first proper love. Everything beforehand had felt like practice for this.

The two of you had met in the spring term of sophomore year. The sun was shining and you we’re sitting on a blanket with Rico bouncing off ideas for research projects. You kept an eye on the baseball team who were practicing near the two of you. Rico was in the middle of explaining her ideas when a baseball flew in your direction.

“Heads up!” shouted a deep voice.

Both of you covered your heads as the ball flew over your blanket. The footsteps of one of the players was nearing your spot.

“Hey, I’m sorry about that.”

You tried to look up but the sun was blinding your eyes. You were able to make out the outline of a tall, man with broad shoulders and wavy blonde hair. He flashed a charismatic smile and said,“the name’s Jaeger. Zeke Jaeger.”

You introduced yourself and Zeke knelt down so his head was at your level.

“Nice to meet you. I feel about almost hitting you. Not sure what happened, normally I have perfect aim.” He winked at you. “Let me make it up by taking you out for a drink, your friend is more than welcomed to come.”

You blushed and thanked him and began to decline your offer when Rico interrupted you.

“She, I mean, we would love that. Here’s her number and mine, too.”

“Thanks, I’ll shoot y’all a text.”

Zeke stood up, grabbed the ball and gave you a wave before running back to his team. From that point on, the two of you had been inseparable.

You drifted off thinking about those first memories, the sweetness of his touch, the excitement of loving Zeke, the hopefulness you had. If you kept on thinking about those moments then maybe they would manifest back into your life. You wanted back that stability in your love so much it hurt your chest.

The next day you rolled over to an empty bed. Your hand traced the cold sheets and you kept your hands in the sunlight, the warmth felt good compared to the draft in Zeke’s bedroom. He preferred a colder bedroom, he said it was better for the body. The front door opened and you pretended to be asleep. Zeke’s footsteps got closer to the bed and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek, he smelled of sweat and musk. Who goes on a run after a night out? You thought. The showerhead turned on and you heard Zeke sing.

You got up and rummaged through Zeke’s drawer and pulled out a navy cardigan. You wrapped the fabric over your body and padded your way to the kitchen. The kitchen was colder than the bedroom.

“Fuck, who lives like this?”

You poured yourself water and stared at the tiles on the walls. Re-playing Levi’s comment in your head. Tsk, a friendship? We hardly know each other, I wouldn't push it. You didn’t blame Levi for his harshness but his comment hurt. There was no denying that you two shared a kinship that was a bit deeper than friendship. Romance wasn’t the word for it either. The relationship you had formed with him felt safe, you felt understood and respected in a way you haven’t really before. Your concentration was broken when you heard Zeke enter the kitchen.

“Hey, babe. Good morning.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I bought you a smoothie.”

“Thanks, Zeke,” you responded.

He grabbed the smoothie from the fridge and smiled at you. You sat on the counter and began to sip on the drink. Zeke hummed to himself and began to pull out a pan from the cupboard.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you asked.

“Life.”

“Like, the gameboard?” You joked.

He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I’m thinking about last night. I never thought I was going to see those guys ever again.”

“Mmm, why did something happen?” You said nonchalantly.

Zeke chuckled, “stupid freshman things. We were all young and dumb.”

He stayed silent afterwards as he went on to fry some eggs. The eggs sizzled in the pan and he whistled quietly. You knew him well enough to know he wanted to say something else.

“I mean, I did dumb stuff when I was freshman so how bad can it actually be?” You prodded.

Zeke stared at you with a series expression. “Look (Y/N), I don’t really want to hash out what happened but-” he hesitated as he looked for the right words to say, “-be careful around Levi. There’s something off about that guy.”

“Oh,” you muttered.

You continued drinking the smoothie, the smell of the egg was making you nauseous and you started to feel the hanging over. You went back into the bedroom and laid down. Your phone buzzed and saw a text from Hange.

Hange: OMG i’m so hungover, i don’t remember getting home

You: Hange, WTF that’s not good lol but I know you were in good hands ;)

Hange: wut does that mean??

You: Moblit lol he was so nice and caring

Hange: … no comment but what are you doing

You: nothing really, why?

Hange: do you want to get brunch?

Hange: it’ll just be the two of us :)

You: yeah, i would love that, send me the address !

The smell of egg had entered the bedroom and you gagged. You hated the smell but Zeke insisted that it was the best way to get protein in the morning. You grabbed your belongings and walked to the kitchen again. Zeke was sitting at the counter eating the eggs and drinking his smoothie while reading the paper.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head out!”

“Really? I thought we could spend the day together before I leave,” Zeke responded.

“You’re leaving?” You paused while putting on your shoes.

“I thought I told you. My internship is taking me on a trip for the next three days and then I’m heading home for the break,” Zeke said in between bites of food.

“Shit. You didn’t tell me. How about we hang out later today?”

“Yeah, I guess that sounds good to me. I’ll see you later,” he said.

“See ya.”

You went back to your apartment to freshen up and hurried to the diner Hange was it. You stepped through the doors and immediately saw Hange’s smiling face. They were waving you to their table. You greeted them with equal excitement and walked to them. For the past few weeks, some of your favorite moments have been hanging out with them. They always brightened your mood with their cheerful banter and love for life. You were excited to eat brunch with them and question them more about the history between the trio and your boyfriend.

[silverbyuls]

( lee hyeri, cis female, muse i ) oh snap! is that SHIN EUNBYUL they work over at high volume where some of the other employees have labeled them as THE AVERAGE JOE. that’s probably because they can be a bit ( optimistic. ) but also pretty ( dishonest. ) they’re TWENTY TWO and they’ve been living in woodstock for TWENTY TWO YEARS. it must be their shift because i totally hear THE CRANBERRIES blasting from the record store. ( a little tikes piggy bank tucked under the bed, clothing label sticking out from the back, snap clips with varnish peeling off, jelly shoes with the strap taped together, leaving lisa frank stickers along record crates ) @volumeupdates

BIO

the luke hemsworth of the family but middle child

goes by byul

tried to go by ‘e.b.’ but her mum went berserk because she’d reduced her name to two letters for the ease of her yt friends and her brother bullied her for being e.t’s ugly sister so now she tries to go by silver star (her name translated into english) but it doesn’t quite stick

claims that her older sister and younger brother stole all her beauty, brain cells and height

family invested everything into older sister so she could go to college in new york: savings, loans, moved to smaller house which is even further from the town centre

brother requires all attention as he has high hopes of getting into college on a baseball scholarship and she lowkey can’t wait until he’s far away from woodstock

her grades have always been average so no one expects her to leave – her parents talk about how nice it is that she’ll be with them forever but she knows that’s because they want her to take care of them when they’re old … which she would! if they didn’t live in woodstock

she tells them she’s going to move to california, but they think she’s as serious about that as she is about wanting to go to college, or becoming supermodel of the world, or an olympic swimmer, when she has average grades, of average height, and can’t even swim

if her life was a movie, she’d have fallen asleep in the first ten minutes – it has always been so boring and uneventful, so she lives up in her head with her fake scenarios to keep things interesting – most of the time, they’re taken straight from a book or magazine

sometimes these thoughts spill over into reality because she can’t fathom the idea of people realising she’s as plain as she is, and her little white lies give her a bit of sparkle to stand out (in her opinion)

but she will get to california!

she even has a plan:

she’s been working at freddy’s diner since she was fifteen, escaping to high volume whenever she can, a place where she can pop her headphones on during her breaks and pretend she’s getting ogled at on venice beach, but she’s terrible at saving so seven years later she’s still grinding

once she graduates high school, she has enough time for a second job and she’d dropped enough hints in front of jerry for him to kindly offer her a job. after all, she spends as much time in high volume as she does at freddy’s so there’s not much of a difference once she becomes an employee -- still floating around the place, sipping on her coke can, either people watching or people chasing -- except now she has access to the register

after a big argument with her parents, she ended up moving out into a place in the middle of town. that was never part of the plan because saving was easier when she lived at home. she’ll say things got really bad but really, she was just getting closer to her target and she wanted a valid reason to put it off for a bit longer

she was only supposed to do it once – stealing from the cash register. it was just right there, no one was around, and she thought it was going to be her last shift because jerry was angry at her for being late again (granted, he hadn’t actually been mad, but it was one of those days when everything felt personal)

besides, she’d overheard a group of girls she’d idolised in school talk about how they stole some underwear and they made it sound so cool

she felt like everyone could hear her heart thumping against her chest as she walked out of the store but the day after, no one said anything about it, no one even noticed, and she wasn’t fired. so she did it again, and again, and again, and eventually she didn’t even bat an eyelid

the extra money was supposed to help her reach her goal faster but, again, she’s terrible at saving and her parents are so hardworking, she can’t help but feel guilty and buy nice things for them every once in a while and when they ask where she got the money from, she lies and says jerry gave her a bonus for being a good employee

on the other hand, if they’ve had an argument, or they’ve forgotten about her again, she’ll have a full on les-mis-i-dreamed-a-dream episode then splurge out on a cute jacket because it’s hers and it’s new! rather than worn out hand-me-downs from her sister or brother!

started her own side hustle called the separation agency – inspired after a customer at high volume asked her to help him break up with his boyfriend. so she’s the messenger for people who have things to say but don’t have the balls to say it to someone’s face themselves. usually they’re horrible messages, like break ups. she’s had like three customers and tries to promote her side hustle whilst on her shift at high volume

she thinks her “business” could actually thrive in a bigger city which is just another reason why she needs to get out of woodstock – it’s holding her back!

anyway, jerry’s missing, which is perfect for her because she gets to come in late and not get told off, and maybe steal a little more than she usually does

PERSONALITY:

when she’s around people, she seems like an extrovert: bubbly, talkative, dramatic ... which uses up a lot of her energy and her social battery is weak, so needs her own space often, and likes doing nothing by herself so sometimes she’ll lie to get out of plans or bail last minute 

she has big dreams, and talks about all her big plans, but has leaving anxiety which is why she’s shit at saving and makes up excuses as to why she can’t leave just yet 

has main character syndrome -- likes to live her life as a romcom, most of her lies revolve around her love life because she wants to be seen as desirable, but also will overanalyse everything 

sensitive, passionate, immature, sympathetic, fickle, clumsy, dramatic, caring, head in clouds

will pretend to knows things to fit in like ~hipster~ bands or anything really, depends on the crowd

could gladly spend all day talking to customers at work then the next day she’ll prefer to day dream in the storage room

rides a bike to and from work and almost everywhere else too -- the only one out of her siblings who had to bike to school because small car and siblings took up all the space -- she’s had the same bike since high school 

loves spice girls but feels like she’ll be judged so keeps quiet and plays it when she’s closing

honestly could hate you one day and have a crush on you the next but you wouldn’t even know it -- a vicious cycle 

collects stickers and leaves them everywhere and on everyone - often passive aggressive through them, basically uses them like emojis

will try to order food and get others to pay for it - especially kfc, never gets to eat the drumsticks at home so will honestly cry if people steal the drumsticks from her

buys lottery tickets and scratch cards because she has a 50/50 chance of winning

WANTED CONNECTIONS: (current connections)

start up: stolen str8 from a kdrama that ruined my life hehe her parents set her up with a pen pal to keep her busy out of guilt because they’re so busy with her siblings and work and obviously she romanticises it !!! her parents would’ve asked to lie a little bit, just so she’d be writing to someone she’d easily obsess over -- love island vc: someone who ticks all the boxes 

xoxo gossip girl: someone who loves a good gossip sesh -- they probably send 👀 at each other across the store when things feel a bit tense, which is code for ‘meet me in the storage room’ so they can chat away for the rest of their shift

lunch stealer: she makes her own lunch every day and is extremely protective over it but one day it went missing and she knows it was them (maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t) so now they are her sworn enemy

sister’s/brother’s friend: therefore an automatic enemy

shut up: someone who just tells her to shut up because she chats so much shit and she’s insane - just sandra x dina vibes from superstore (x)

carpool karaoke: she hates cycling in when it’s raining, so either she’s trying to get them to be her designated driver or has already succeeded and is annoying about it

crush #1: someone she has a crush on (more of an infatuation) and they’re not interested in her in the slightest but in her head they’re giving her mixed signals and she has made up a fake boyfriend to try to make them jealous

crush #2: someone she thinks has a crush on her. either because they’re nice or tease her or just mean, it doesn’t matter, she’s insane so she’ll interpret it however she wants

ex: they never broke up, or even dated, but she thinks something almost happened between them and she thinks she cut things off by giving them space

separation agency: someone who once used the agency either out of the kindness of their heart or for a different reason entirely and now she won’t stop pestering them to try and get them to use it again

no thots just vibes: i just like this gifset tbh (x) and we can brainstorm ! 

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {24}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Remember that one time when Lucas and Nathan faced off on the rivercourt for Peyton’s affection? Yeah. Good times.

Anyways, even I said “What the fuck” at the end of this chapter...Enjoy “The one before the finale”. x

“I'd always thought death would be some sort of peaceful homecoming - a sweet, sad lullaby to usher me into whatever waited afterward.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Lain?”

It was the week before Rhysand and Feyre’s wedding, and everyone was going out to celebrate. All but Elain, who offered to stay home with Mila so that Azriel could enjoy himself. He’d been on edge too often, lately. He needed a good night out.

Besides, Elain was pregnant and nauseous and the last thing she wanted to do was be out with a bunch of people when she couldn’t drink and was too damn tired to dance. 

“Yes?” Elain asked from where she was perched on the other side of the couch.

“Is the baby in your belly a boy or a girl?”

Elain chuckled. “We don’t know yet. What do you want the baby to be?”

Mila took a minute to think about it. “I don’t care. I just want someone to play with.”

Elain’s smile softened. “Well, soon enough, baby will be here.”

“I be a big sister?” she asked, with hope in her sweet, innocent eyes.

“Sure will,” Elain confirmed. “The best big sister!”

“Is Uncle Azzie going to marry you?” Mila asked. “Like Rhysie and Feyre.”

“Maybe,” Elain said, in all honesty. “But not right now.”

“I want you to marry Uncle Azzie,” Mila said, sighing as she pet Elain’s cat, Ginger. “We could all live together in a big house. Me, you, Uncle Az, and baby.”

Elain watched Mila as she kissed the kitten’s forehead. “I would like that, too.”

“Good,” Mila beamed. “Can we watch t.v.?”

“It’s getting late,” Elain said, huffing a laugh, a hand on her stomach. The morning sickness wasn’t as bad, but it tended to linger throughout the day. 

“Please?” Mila sang, big eyes pleading.

“Alright, but only for a little while,” Elain said. “When i say it’s time for bed, it’s time for bed.”

Mila jumped up on the couch, arms in the air. “Yay!”

Elain turned the station to a kid’s show as she pulled out her phone and texted Azriel, What did this child have for lunch? She has enough energy for all of us.

Azriel’s reply came a second later. Chicken nuggets.

Then, it was followed by, A cherry icee might have happened, too.

Elain laughed to herself as she typed out, Oh, good. Get her all sugared up then leave her with the pregnant woman.

“Lain, do you have ice cream?”

Elain shook her head. “How about an apple?”

Mila groaned. “Fine.”

As Elain went into the kitchen, her phone vibrated in her hoodie pocket. Azriel had said, I can always come home. I’m only ten minutes down the road if you need me.

Have fun, Elain had texted back. Enjoy yourself. We’re good over here. After adding a green heart emoji, she pressed send. 

After washing an apple and cutting it into slices, Elain walked back into the living room, where Mila was snoring, using Ginger as a pillow. Shaking her head, Elain took her place at the other end of the couch.

When she pulled her phone out of her pocket, it read, Kiss Mila and the baby goodnight for me.

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she smiled. Every night, Azriel pressed his soft lips to Elain’s stomach, to the bump that had formed there.

I will, Elain had typed back. Always.

~~~~~~

“I feel bad for leaving Elain,” Feyre frowned. “She deserves to have fun, too.”

“She offered,” Nesta reminded her. “Besides, she’s been up at the crack of dawn puking her guts up. The woman needs to take sleep when she can find it.”

Feyre agreed before taking another shot.

Shots were on Mor, and the rounds kept coming. Feyre had already texted Rhysand once, to see where Cassian and Azriel were taking him, but he had replied that he didn’t know, that it was a surprise, and that he was scared shitless because any surprise that involved Cassian was asking for trouble.

Feyre didn’t disagree. 

“One week from today,” Amren began, eyes bright, intoxicated, “you’ll be a married woman.”

“Any idea where you’re going for the honeymoon?” Mor asked. “Rhys let anything slip?”

“Not a thing,” Feyre groaned. “And it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Any guesses?” Nesta asked.

Feyre took a second to think about it. Yes, she had guessed a few times over the past weeks, but Rhysand had let nothing slip. “My guess is Adriata. He knows I love the beach.”

And even now, as Autumn was beginning, Adriata was as warm and sunny as ever. But every time Feyre had guessed as much, Rhysand just shrugged and said, Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.

The handsome bastard. 

“You know what we should do?” Mor asked, then looked to Nesta. “Designated driver, pull the car around, please. We have to get the bride prepared for her honeymoon.”

Feyre groaned, but Nesta was already on her feet, hurrying out the door.

Five minutes later, they were gathered together in Nesta’s car, driving down Main Street. 

“Where are you taking me now?” Feyre asked, exasperated.

“You’ll see,” Mor crooned.

The endless list of surprises was about to drive Feyre insane.

They pulled up to a little lingerie shop and dragged Feyre out of the car.

“Is this necessary?” she asked. “Rhysand prefers me naked.”

Mor rolled her eyes as Amren said, “You can’t go on your honeymoon without a solid selection of overpriced lingerie.”

Feyre laughed, unable to argue as they entered the shop.

The room was filled with lace and silk, varying in styles and choices.

“Fine,” Feyre sighed. “Everyone pick out something and I’ll get it, no questions asked, but after this, we drink!”

Feyre was answered with laughter and hollering as she crashed in a chair near the dressing room. 

She would be married, Rhysand’s wife, in one week. It almost didn’t seem real. Everything was going so well, so smoothly, so beautifully, even with the rushed planning.

One week, with her girls by her side, and apparently a bag packed full of lingerie, ready to go wherever the hell Rhys was taking her after the ceremony... She would be her best friend’s wife.

~~~~~

 The back of Cassian’s truck was down, a twelve pack of shitty beer sat on the unhitched gate, and rock music poured from the radio as the three friends played basketball on the small court along the Sidra. 

Rhysand’s mom used to take the three of them there, from the time they were in middle school and fell in love with the sport. It had always been a safe haven, so it made sense why his two closest friends would gather an ass-ton of beer and take him to the court for some bonding before he got hitched in a week.

Cassian had a beer can pressed to his lips as he dribbled the ball to the free-throw line. 

“Anything new about Eris?” He asked.

Azriel cleared his throat. “No, but Amarantha calls and leaves a voicemail every other day, claiming the prick won’t give up. Which, I believe. Eris isn’t the type to be told he can’t have something and drop it.”

Azriel had gone to court a few days prior, and Eris had left furious after he’d been granted nothing. It was a win, but Rhysand could tell Azriel’s worry lingered.

“No matter what happens, she’s going to get older, you know? Eventually, she’ll have questions about them both, and I’m going to be the bad guy for saying, your mom’s in prison, and your dad’s a dick. Sorry, can’t see either of them.”

“Doesn’t make you a bad person for wanting to protect her,” Rhysand said. Cassian raised his beer in agreement.

“So I hear,” he mumbled, and surely Elain had been constantly telling him the same thing. “Nervous?” Azriel asked, where he stood beneath the hoop, undoubtedly hoping to get the conversation off of him.

“About playing against Cassian?” Rhysand asked. “Hardly.”

Azriel chuckled. “About getting married, dumbass.”

Rhysand grinned. “Not really. Nothing to be nervous about.” 

People were still around, the sun yet to have completely sink down, walking or jogging along the walk by the river. None of them seemed to care that they were drinking in a public area, or that their music was obnoxiously loud. 

“I’d be nervous,” Cassian muttered, throwing his empty can at his truck bed - and completely missing. 

“If you were marrying Nesta?” Rhysand asked. “Fuck, any man would be nervous. Or, you know, completely terrified.” 

Cassian snorted, but didn’t deny it. “About getting married in general. Everyone staring up at you, watching you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes as you proclaim your love…”

Azriel laughed, taking the ball away from Cassian and dribbling it up to half court. “That’s bullshit, you love attention.”

Cassian’s grin only widened. Rhysand said nothing as he watched Azriel dribble up to the three point line, all he could do is laugh as Cassian took a step forward to block his shot, but stumbled.

And yet, Azriel shot the ball and it missed the backboard by a foot.

Maybe they’d all had more to drink than they had thought. 

But none of them chased that ball as it rolled off the court, and out onto the grass, near the riverwalk.

Where a young man picked it up, saw Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, and grinned.

So did his companion. 

Rhysand froze, and Cassian started charging forward, but Azriel quickly grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back.

Tamlin chuckled. “That’s right, control your bitch.”

He and Eris stopped at the edge of the court.

Those walking past must have sensed the tension, because they began receiving strange looks as they stood atop the court in silence. 

And yet, they all kept walking past. 

“I hear you’re getting married next week,” Tamlin went on, strutting onto the court, ball bouncing on the concrete. “I suppose I should congratulate you. And my beautiful Feyre.”

Rhysand said nothing, but Cassian spat, “Leave.”

“How about we play?” Eris suggested, but he was looking at Azriel. “It’s been a while since we played.”

“You’re not welcome here,” Azriel said.

“Where is my daughter, by the way?” Eris said, looking around. “With your whore, no doubt.”

Now it was Cassian’s turn to grab Azriel by the arm. It only made Eris’s grin wider and far more wicked. 

“We don’t want trouble,” Rhysand said, plainly. “Give us our ball back and go.”

Tamlin did no such thing. “I think a game would be fun. Me and Eris against Cassian and Az. Rhysand, you could referee. Wouldn’t want you getting injured so close to your big day. Feyre will need you to be able to...perform. We all know how needy she is in bed, especially on her wedding night.”

Rhysand’s jaw hardened. “Why are you here, Tam?”

“We were walking by,” he said, shrugging. “We can’t stop and say hello?”

“No,” Cassian said, plainly.

“Then perhaps we’ll stop and say hello at the wedding, instead,” Tamlin crooned. “I hear it’s not far from here. By the woods, along the Sidra…”

“If you show up at the wedding-” Rhysand growled, but he was cut off.

“You’ll what?” Eris laughed. “Ask us to leave like you’re doing now? How’s that approach working for you?”

“I’ll handle it,” Cassian said, voice low. “And, considering the state I left you two in after our last encounter, you know that’ll end.”

Eris’ smile faded. “You were lucky, filled with that unholy rage that’s landed you in a jail cell more times than I can count.”

Cassian took a step forward, and this time, Azriel didn’t stop him. “You know what you’re problem is?” Cassian asked, looking between the two of them. “You grow up, spoiled, getting everything you’ve ever wanted, and now, you have this unwavering entitlement that makes you think you’re fucking invincible.” He took another step forward. “But you’re not. One day, you’ll get what’s coming to you, and your daddys won’t be there to help you out.” 

Tamlin grinned as he met Cassian in the lane, closing the distance between them. “Spoken like a true bastard, who killed his own mommy and whose daddy didn’t want him.”

Cassian’s body went still.

Azriel’s face went pale.

Yes, Cassian had a lot of anger. And that anger came from somewhere. And that somewhere was just declared, outright, from Tamlin’s mouth.

Cassian didn’t talk about it, but Rhysand and Azriel knew. In high school, Cassian had found his mother dead in their living room. Then, unable to handle the pain of loss, he fled for weeks and no one saw him. The rumors that came from that were unbearable. But that’s all they were, of course, fucked up rumors.

That Rhysand was certain Tamlin and Eris had been the ones to spread.

“You need to leave,” Rhysand warned.

But Tamlin didn’t move.

Nor did Eris.

Instead, Eris pulled a small knife out of his pocket and flicked it open. He used the sharp tip to clean the dirt out from under his fingernails.

Utter rage consumed Azriel’s face. 

That man was Mila’s father.

Cassian was unleashed.

He instantly tackled Tamlin to the ground, Cassian’s fist colliding with his jaw. Then Eris was on the move, charging at Azriel, but he stood his ground.

Rhysand’s can fell out of his hand, spilling across the pavement as he moved toward them, one foot in front of the other, to where Tamlin now had Cassian held down, just barely, by his throat.

What happened after that was a blur of blood and chaos.

Women who walked past walked by quickly, and a few men eventually came to try and break it up, but they were only swept into the fight themselves.

It became an all out war.

“Call the police!” a woman yelled, and Rhysand had hardly heard her above the madness surrounding him, above the pounding in his ears. 

He had just brought a man down that had gotten him good in the nose when Rhysand spun around, and saw it.

Eris had Azriel pinned against the ground by his knees, one hand holding his face still, the other holding that knife to Azriel’s neck.

Azriel laid perfectly still, breathing hard. Any movement, and the blade would get him.

Rhysand screamed Eris’ name, but when he started to run that direction, he was caught by a random jogger who threw him against the court. Cassian was still tumbling around with Tamlin, completely unaware of what was happening outside of their feud.

It was then that a middle-aged man, who should have been nowhere near the court, stepped behind Eris and tried to haul him off of Azriel.

But Eris was strong, much stronger. He pulled the knife away from Azriel’s neck, only to push the man down with such force that Rhysand could hear him hit the concrete. Rhysand was already on his feet, moving as quickly as he could toward the scene, but he was still too far away.

Azriel took Eris’ distraction to his advantage, though. He grabbed the knife from Eris’ hand and stabbed him in the side. Eris cried out in agony, but Azriel was pushing Eris off of him, and was hurrying to the middle-aged man lying on the concrete, hazel eyes full of horror. 

“Call a fucking ambulance!” he screamed, his voice so loud, so panicked, that the fight surrounding them began to dissipate.

Even Tamlin looked at the sight, looked at Azriel hovering over the man, in horror.

Because he knew that man.

Cassian’s face paled as he dropped Tamlin to the concrete and, blood running from his nose, ran to his truck for his phone. 

Because lying on the ground, still as stone, was Isaac Archeron. 

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty  @starkovsnesta​   @redisriding​  @photofeesh

@mariamuses​   @tswaney17    @amaranthas-whore​   @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr​  @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin​  @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn​

@hashtolanashoba  @poisonous00​  @chemicha @samotita​

@mynewdreamwasyou​ @humming-asong​  

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s​  @sensitiveillyrian​

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass​  @stars-falling​

@ifangirlninja  @sleeping-and-books  @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem​

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq​

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books​ @alwayss-reading​

@amren-courtofdreams  @b00kworm​

@wifeofchrishemsworth​  @booksstorm​

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts​

@humanexile  @over300books​

@booksbooksbooksworld  @starrynightsbooks​

@girl-who-reads-the-books  @mockingjayusa​

@mis-lil-red  @mini-monster-amren

@shhhimreading03​ @brittneym15​

@emilyrose111294​  @queen-of-glass​

@negativenesta​  @keshavomit​

@argentumstella​  @sebxstianbarnes​

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae​

@feyrethedarklady​

@starryandbooks​

@gingerglides​  @candid-confetti​

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit​ @iliketoasterstrudels​

@6255igntm​  @moondancer-204​

@littlehoneyybee​  @acourtofbookworms​

@the-regal-warrior​

@awkward-avocado-s​  @nightcourtcinnamonroll​

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn​ @bamchickawowow​

@julemmaes​  @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash​  @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila​  @awkward-avocado-s​

@superspiritfestival  @the-dark-swan​  @girlgotattitude448​  @eversincebeirut​

@midnightrose-reader​  @lord-douglas-the-third​  @thestarguidingyouhome​

@empress-ofbloodshed​  @starkovsnesta​ @nickjgoodsell​

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[emailmarketingtips21]

Emailing strategy: 9 essential steps

Overview

Mailing has always been a complete marketing tool that brings very impressive results to those who know how to use it. By way of example: The revenue generated by B2B emailing increased by 60% between 2019 and 2020. Emailing Strategy is very essential to increase your traffic to your site. In this article, I will show you 9 essential steps. Emailing is 40 times more likely to generate income than social marketing. Now that you know why this is important, let’s go over the decisive points to define your emailing strategy.

What are the objectives of your emailing strategy?

We’ll start by setting goals. Quick reminder, use the SMART methodology: Specific Measurable Accepted Realistic Resources to put in place for your emailing strategy

What makes email a powerful channel is everything that revolves around it and drives conversion: The email itself. The landing page associated with the email. Any promotions or call to action that you can provide to the recipient. This all has a big impact on you in human and financial terms, so think about this before you start. An email that has neither landing nor content that brings value to its recipient has little chance of converting! The segment, the basis of the emailing strategy Each campaign must have a specific target. Segmentation is the key to a successful emailing strategy. If you get to know your interlocutors well, then you will be better able to understand their expectations and speak their language.

So take the time to define your personae, it’s essential. A personalized message has on average 14% more chance to generate a click to your landing and a 10% more chance to convert the recipient.

Tips: To help you know your targets when sending an email, you can use an enrichment API like a supportive or clear bit or block spring. These services allow you to find information about your personae (Twitter account, last name, first name, Facebook account, company…).

Emailing strategy-The 3 possible types of emails Transactional emails: These emails are intended exclusively for customers. They are at the “heart” of the user experience. These emails are there to mark the relationship with your customers.

Example of transactional emails: the welcome email, payment confirmation,….

They play a crucial role in the quality perceived by the user of your service. They are essential for working on loyalty/retention.

Notification emails: Notification emails allow you to send the news to recipients according to your criteria (a particular event, an action triggered by the user, etc.).

One of the most successful examples is the auto-responder ( drip campaign ).

The auto-responders allow you to create sequences of emails according to trigger (= action) activated by the recipient (opening an email, action on your site, no action for x time …)

Example of notification emails: birthday email, new product, request for feedback (NPS), auto-responder …

These types of emails are fully automatable and allow you to work on the retention of your users regardless of their stage of life (prospect, customer, recurring customer, etc.)

Marketing emails or “bulk-email” are incentive emails without action on the part of the customer/prospect.

Example of marketing emails: newsletter, sale …

You can also add cold emails in this category. Email marketing aimed at a population that has not, a priori, specifically requested it.

Emailing strategy-The frequency of sending emails The frequency of sending emails

The frequency of sending emails will affect your ability to convert your prospect or customer. You need to keep the recipient warm all the time so that they don’t forget you, but you also don’t have to bombard them with emails, otherwise, they may run away and make you look like a spammer.

Remember to test different timings, different intervals between your emails. Statistics show that recipients are more likely to read them on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Be careful, I repeat, there is no going back once you are labeled as a spammer, so beware. Read the article on email delivery ability

Email, the heart of the emailing strategy an email has two parts: subject and content, each with its own purpose.

The subject of the email: The object is the first interaction you will have with your prospect or customer. It’s like a first date: you have to be intriguing, convincing, mysterious, and thoughtful. The important KPI here is the open rate.

Here are some tips to increase your open rate: The subject line of the email should be short: 2 to 5 words are enough, you don’t want to say too much otherwise the recipient will have no interest in opening your email.

Then the subject of the email must be intriguing, mysterious: keep a touch of mystery helps to arouse the interest of the recipient.

The subject of the email must include emojis: every day we receive tens or even hundreds of emails for some. So you have to go through the mass, catch the eye in one way or another. An emoji plays this role and the statistics show it. You can boost the open rate by + 20% just by doing this.

The subject of the email must be personalized: if you have usable data on your users: name, first name, or other, do not hesitate to use it in the subject. here are two examples:

One in this email Happy New Year {{FirstName}}

Emailing Marketing strategy-The content of the email: The content of the email

Once you have well defined your subject, all you have to do is work on the content of the email. The important KPI is the click-through rate (CTR).

Here’s the procedure to follow : Personalized: use what you know about your interlocutor, address them directly (you/you: depending on your sector). KISS: Keep it Simple Stupid: keep it short, clear, and above all simple. CTA (call to action): an email equals a goal don’t try to do everything or you won’t do anything. The CTA must be engaging and have a unique purpose. Offer him what he wants: promotion, free content, etc.

Emailing strategy-Avoid images: I know, we tend to think that the more beautiful the better it is, but it is wrong. You have a goal: to click on the link or the CTA to your landing. In addition, the trend is mobile, so you need to have the ability to load the email as quickly as possible for the recipient (images take a long time to load for mobiles). Play on urgency: the offer is only available today. He has to make a decision quickly or he will miss out on a good deal.

If possible put a PS: the subject, the title, and the PS are the three most-read elements in an email. Remember to use the wording, the same offer, in your email and on your landing page.

Tracking & Analysis of the emailing strategy Remember to track your emails, if you use a service like [af_link id = ”526 ″ titles =” Aweber ”target =” _blanck ”] Aweber [/ af_link] then it’s pretty simple everything is explained in the interface of the ‘tool. Otherwise use Google analytics trackers for your links (CTR) and boomerang, banana tag, or other types of tools.

You can now monitor your performance and test different objects, content, frequencies… to find what converts the most. Clean up your base or your strategy will go down the drain!

Some basic precautions to take to avoid ending up in spam : Emailing strategy-Remove duplicates. Retrieve the information available on spam or hard bounce complaints and delete them. Retrieve the email addresses of people who never open your emails, the same for those who never click (during the last 6 months). Send them one last email asking if they are still interested. If you don’t receive a response, delete them. When registering for your email database, it is better (except cold email) to request a double opt-in (confirmation).

To see also-Best Email Marketing Practices for Sending Better Emails

Emailing strategy- Bonus: The moment when the user is the hottest and therefore the most inclined to meet your indirect objectives, is during his registration. So do not hesitate to ask him to fulfill a secondary objective in the reconfirmation email (Sharing on social networks, opinion …) If you liked this article share it, if you have any questions, please do not hesitate: the comments are there for that.

Conclusion: Email marketing is a very powerful tool for a company if there is a well designed and planned strategy. Otherwise, it will become your main enemy when people label a message as spam.

And you, do you run successful email marketing campaigns? Would you add another key to the list?

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

I’m Coming Home to You

Please read this and validate me.. I wrote this monster in like three hours. XX T 

Part One  Part Two 

He texts Eddie probably too soon. He’s barely folded himself into an uncomfortable seat to wait for the airplane and he only forces himself to send a text to Sarah, before he sends one to Eddie.

From your number: One step closer to home man!

His phone chirps nearly instantly,

From Edward Kaspbrak: I’m glad. Are you in pain?

Physical? Absolutely not. Mental anguish that Eddie thinks he’s playing a game with him because he couldn’t man up and kiss him back? Um, yes.

From your number: I’m fine. Can’t wait to get back home and hit the booze though.

From Edward Kaspbrak: No plane drinking for you?

From your number: And end up crying into the lap of a random stranger? No thanks.

From Edward Kaspbrak: I offered to go with you. You played yourself.

He sends the shrugging emoji and Richie bursts into laughter.

From your number: I’m scared.

From Edward Kaspbrak: I know. Doesn’t mean I love you any less.

Richie’s heart pounds. This is what he means. He can’t do this, he can’t. Their chance is over. They could have had so much, everything. High school and college and they could have gotten married dammit. But nope. Now he’s middle aged and the thought of Eddie saying those words directly to his face, makes him want to vomit.

He puts Eddie on do not disturb, thinks better of it and then powers down the entire phone. He’s having difficulty breathing, and he’s convinced it’s not all entirely his lung.

Richie takes three weeks off to recover, reschedules eight shows and loses about ten grand. His ankle is healed, as well as his head but his lung still hurts if he moves too quickly and he still has this disgusting scar on his face. That’s gonna cost a pretty penny to fix.

He flies out to New York to see Sarah for a few days, and he’s been keeping regular contact with the Losers.

Him and Eddie are.. well. They talk on the phone. Every night. Eddie’s healing up, back to work- analyzing risks- or whatever that bullshit meant. Plugging along with his divorce from Myra. Begging Richie to see him.

Richie avoided it at all costs, terrified of seeing him. So he rambled about his day, his new set, everything.

Richie’s a touch nervous about his show. He’s been laying lower than low since his accident, making extremely sure no one saw him before he was damn well ready.

And apparently that time was gone because he’d no more than ordered his iced latte when some teenager who in all reality is a little too young to be watching his sets, asks for a picture.

It takes him over an hour to get out of the small coffee shop, and that’s only because a manager comes out, pissed.

He doesn’t even want his watered down latte any longer. He angrily throws the coffee into a nearby garbage can and rests heavily against the wall of the building. If even that little interaction was too much, how was he going to get through an entire set tonight?

His phone rings and he has every intention of letting it go to voicemail, until he sees it’s his manager, Steve.

“Hey-o.”

“Rich man, what the fuck were you thinking?! You want to get attacked or something?!”

“I’m barely famous,” Richie says flippantly, hoping he’s not going to get actually yelled at because he can not handle that right now.

“You’re a fucking bum from Maine who somehow got signed with the top comedian company and was promised two back to back tours before you even took pen to paper. Not to mention you nearly died Richie.”

He’s getting sick of hearing those words come out of Steve, and his wife’s mouth. The first entire week he’d been back, he’d stayed with them. He’d gained like fifteen pounds from all the home cooked meals. He’d taken a bubble bath. With epsom salt. So he knows how Steve feels about his accident, he does.

“I just wanted to be normal. For once.” Richie admits quietly.

Steve laughs lightly,

“Me too. Maybe if you were normal, it wouldn’t be so hard being your manager.”

Richie knows it’s a joke, but the sudden thought that Steve wouldn’t want to manage him anymore. His wife is Christian, they have a daughter for Christ’s sake... they don’t need Richie being a bad influence. God, he was just going to get up there and make jokes without any care for anyone else. Not Steve. Not.. he who must not be named. (Okay this isn’t fucking Harry Potter, pull it together Rich.)

“Hey Steve?”

“Yes o favorite client of mine.”

“I made a new set.”

“I know. I am thrilled.”

“Well you may want to taper that back a little.”

“Rich? Is this one of your moments? Do I need to amp you up? Do we need to play Beyoncé?”

Richie is going to kill him. He doesn’t know how to do this. Come out. This is a problem for thirteen year old girls who realized they liked the taste of their best friends lip gloss during practice kissing rather than a boy’s bad breath during real kissing.

“Um, some of my jokes revolve around a guy.”

“Oh cool. You know, you’re not as ugly as you think, but the crowd does go wild for that self hate shit, mainly because your photo of you shirtless at the pool on Instagram got flagged as inappropriate content because people kept commenting “daddy” under it. It’s funny Rich.”

Richie had forgotten about that. He’d thought it was a joke, and he’d sat up drinking beer and eating pizza with his beard Natalie as she insisted, no, he was daddy material. Natalie was a twenty seven year old  from fucking Wisconsin of all places and played a ditzy granddaughter on a soap opera that Richie, being the terrible boyfriend he is, has never seen. She wouldn’t know daddy material if it slapped her in the face. She insists she does. But it’s kind of like the way she insists she's slept with Liam Hemsworth. Her beautiful blue eyes beg you to believe her, but she can’t keep the smirk off of her lips.

“No, I mean. Fuck Steve, you know you’re like a brother to me,”

Steve cackles,

“Damn, this is how you treat your family?”

“Ask my sister because the answer most definitely is yes. Anyway, the joke is about me liking a guy.”

There’s a pause,

“Um, Rich my dude. There’s a word for that and it’s called homophobia.”

Richie grunts and balls his free fist at his side,

“No like, I like a guy. For real.”

There’s a pause,

“Is something wrong with Natalie?”

“No, no no! Oh god Natalie. I have to tell her. Oh god, I can’t go on tonight. I can’t.” He says pathetically. Desperately.

“I understand this is a crisis situation, I do, but we’ve got a baby on the way, and this show is raking in like a quarter of a mill so, you’re going on.”

“A baby? Oh wow!”

Something Richie will never have. Wait. Where did that come from? Does he want kids?

“Richie, shut up. Okay, I’m only going to ask once, are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Richie hesitates. He wonders if Natalie will still want to be friends.

“If you think this will ruin her career, we’re not doing it.”

“Other than that?”

Richie presses his thumbs against his eyelids in concentration.

“Yes.”

It’s barely a whisper.

“I’ll take care of everything.”

“Steve-“

“Everything. Be at the studio at 5.”

“But I don’t go on til 8.”

“Richie, be there on time I swear to god.”

Richie shows up around 6:30. He hasn’t heard from Natalie or Steve, so they can’t be too pissed.

He’d had to shower twice. He’d talked to Mike on the phone. He’d texted Eddie about twice before he got nervous. He’s tired and crabby and this is not the way he’s supposed to be starting his first show back. Not by a long shot.

So the first thing he does is ask the first person he sees for some scotch. Steve might kill him but he needs to be at least tipsy to make it through this one.

He’d thought he was ready, but maybe he wasn’t. He’s not ready to face Steve’s inevitable wrath, or at least annoyance, so he ducks into the dressing room.

To his dismay, Natalie is in there, talking to his hairstylist Maggie. She stands up immediately and she’s got her wide smile on and she hugs him tightly and kisses his cheek instead of his lips,

“You’re late.”

“Sue me.”

She snorts, “I have a lot of reasons too, so I’d shut up. Anyway, I have dinner for you.”

“Dinner?”

“I’m not just a pretty face you know.” And she hands him a Tupperware container.

He hasn’t seen Tupperware in like 15 years. He laughs and she rolls her eyes,

“Come on, there’s a microwave over here.”

She places her hand on the small of his back, perhaps more out of muscle memory and she leads him into the small kitchenette, taking back the Tupperware before heating the food.

“So? This is interesting.”

“You can’t be.. surprised.” He says, even though that’s a straight lie.

“I assumed all men in their forties had issues getting it up, even when a pair of perfect tits in their face.”

He knows she’s kidding. He does, and it’s not even the first time she’d given it back as good as she got but he suddenly feels like crying. She must sense this immediately because Natalie is amazing like that, and she’s wrapping her arms around him. He cries into her chest like a fucking child. They only pull away after the microwave beeps for like the millionth time.

“Oh honey. It’s going to be okay.”

“How are you going to be?”

“Oh you’re cutting me a check. Steve promised.”

“You should be cutting me a check princess. I know your contract just got renewed.”

“You’re making nearly 25k... tonight.”

“Snooping are we?”

She shoves the Tupperware at him,

“Eat your dinner.”

“Natalie, are we still, gonna be friends I mean?” He asks sheepishly.

She made him chicken, potatoes and green beans. He knows everything is homemade. She hated the chemicals in the fake meat he ate. Hey, he was gonna die for a lot of other shit, and probably first. The environment was worth it. Okay not time for a fucking rant right now.

“Honey, we’re family.”

There’s a knock on the door,

“Rich? I’ve got the fucking liquor you ordered.” Steve says, handing him the bottle. “Do not get too wasted.”

Richie gets like.. half a shot too wasted. He’s buzzing. He’s flushed and warm and his hands are sweaty and Natalie isn’t fawning all over him like she usually does and he is stressed. He’s alone. He wants to message Eddie but he pussies out.

When he goes out, the screams are deafening. Once he gets the mic in his hand, he’s flying. He goes on about the nasty gash on his face, hobbling around with a twisted rib and how his crazy, lazy, halfway drunk ass is going to be an uncle. The jokes flow easily, even if he didn’t plan on saying it, and suddenly he has the terrible thought, shrugs and hopes that Sarah has already told her baby daddy.

And then he gets into it.

“So I know you’re all dying to know what the hell happened. I wish I could say that it was some badass like, car robbery. But it was just a straight up mugging. The thing is that I was with my friends, right? I know that’s shocking, hardy har har. But I’m with some friends, and I have this one friend. Her name is Bev, she’s gorgeous, and a bad ass through and through, strongest person I know, my bad, I’m exposing myself a bit too much, I am a heartless prick, I promise.

“But we’re at a bar, and some skeeze, no a real dick, I mean it. Takes her purse. Is this fucking 1992? Who steals a purse? Now, I’ve got a shit ton of liquor in me, but suddenly I’m running. And it’s cold, we’re in Maine and it’s winter And I’m freezing my balls off. And I’ve almost got him, I did track in high school, yeah yeah I don’t look like I can run from here to backstage, I get it.”

The crowd roars.

“The point is, I’m almost on him. This motherfucker pulls out a knife. Now, I know this doesn’t sound funny but  listen, number one, Bev is a fucking receptionist at a dental office, she’s not even raking in the dollars. Trust me, I’ve paid her rent a few times,” he straight up hasn’t and even though he thinks it’s funny ,he shouts out a quick, “love you Bev!”

“Anyway, the guy pulls out a knife and goes insane. I thought this beer belly would protect me, but alas,” his voice is getting sad, so he pulls it together, “Anyway. The first of my friends to find me is someone I’m close to right. My first love. And I’m bleeding out on the cold cement, for real, Natalie, though she could have given me some tips on how to handle it so beautifully, but my first love’s in front of me and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die.

“So I’m going on and on and throwing around big words that my man child ass doesn’t know the meaning of, like love and forever, and he’s staring at me like the idiot I am, and I promise there’s a point to this joke, and the joke is that once again, Richie fumbled. Good old Rich just lost it. So the fuck up you see right here, it turns out I’m actually this way in real life. So please remember what an absolute goof I am, especially next time you want to stalk  me at fucking Dunn Brothers, and fuck up my oat milk latte, which is an extra ninety cents by the way, please remember that I’m a big dork,”

Suddenly there’s a commotion in the crowd and some guy is standing on his chair and Richie’s never wanted to die more,

“Did you say a guy?” He shouts.

It’s silent, before he nods slightly,

“Yes I did. I’m a big ol-“ he doesn’t even know what fucked up thing he’s going to say, when the crowd erupts into applause.

And he’s sure that some people left, or there’s comments, but the applause is all he needs. He is a slut for validation after all. Thank you love language quiz. Words of affirmation baby!

The rest of the set goes great and he’s still properly buzzed when he steps off stage. Steve is clapping him on the shoulder, even though he’s on the phone and then Richie’s rushed backstage and handed water and there’s. He squeezes the water bottle too tight and it explodes all over him. It’s freezing, even though he feels warm and before he’s thinking about it, he’s yanking off his shirts and suddenly someone’s handing him a towel and he hears a dog whistle. He’s about to tell Natalie to fuck off, when he sees who she’s standing by.

There. In the flesh, is Eddie Kaspbrak. He looks good, dammit. A maroon sweater and tight black jeans. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his black jacket in his arms.

“No one took his coat?” Richie yanks it out of his hands and throws it somewhere. “Where’s everybody else?”

He looks confused,

“What do you mean?”

“Impromptu Loser’s trip to my show. Is Bev pissed about the rent thing because I swear-“

Natalie sips at some cocktail awkwardly and Eddie swallows hard,

“Um, it’s just me.”

Richie halts. He sees someone off the scene - he knows these people’s names- he swears, it’s just dark. But he gestures for the booze again. Eddie came to see him. For his first show. Oh god. Eddie heard him go on about his jawline for Christ’s sake and now. He looks like a deer in headlights. The scotch is thrust into his hands and he takes three long pulls before doing anything.

The worst part is Eddie is just chilling. Kicking it, while Richie has this internal meltdown which he knows is showing on his face. He doesn’t know what to do so he all but thrusts the liquor at Eddie, grabs Natalie’s arm and storms off.

“What am I gonna do? Shit he’s here, he’s here.”

“You knew he was gonna hear the sketch anyway, why does it matter?”

“Because I’m drunk. I acted like a lovesick fool. My dad bod is exposed. What am I gonna do?! And be serious. There’s only room for one funny one in this relationship.”

She smiles,

“Good thing it’s me, my darling. Talk to him. He seems cool.”

“You talked to him?!”

“Uh yeah. He’s been back here since about half way through the set. Barged right back here. Lucky I recognized the name.”

He stares and she sighs,

“You’ve been saying his name in your sleep. Ever since the accident.”

“Oh god. You probably think I’m pathetic.”

“Not pathetic, in love.”

“In love? But I’m, we don’t know each other. We haven’t kept in touch in years.”

“Love doesn’t fade with age sweetie.”

“Oh stop being reasonable! I understand you just got a new gay best friend, but be logical.”

She snorts,

“Trust me, no one wants to go shopping with you. I am being logical. That man is head over heels for you. And you’re head over heels for him. Now do something about it before I kick your ass.”

“Your shoes are too expensive.”

“What am I gonna do? Talk about my feelings?”

She shakes her head quickly,

“Oh god no. Who knows what would come out. Just, ya know, go seduce him, with all of this.”

If it were anyone else he’d think they were kidding, but the have had sex dozens of times and so he knows she can’t be joking too much. His insecure ass isn’t that desperate so he keeps his mouth shut. She touches his shoulder,

“Go out there and kiss him. Just kiss him.”

He stares and she whacks his arm,

“And keep your mouth shut. No jokes.”

“What if he tries to slip in a little tongue?” He wags his eyebrows.

“You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

“Eddie thinks so,” he says quickly, before he can stop himself.

Natalie grins,

“By the grace of god he does. Now go kiss him dammit!”

He strides out of the room, not paying any attention to if she’s following him, but he bets she is, as if she’d miss this. Eddie is looking flushed and cradling the scotch bottle like a pacifier and all Richie does is take it out of his hand and set it down quickly. Eddie stares. Eddie’s here. Eddie came here. To California. To see his set. He’d paid to see Richie. He remembers to ask Steve about a refund, vaguely of course, before he’s fitting a hand around Eddie’s jaw, Eddie’s beautiful jaw and ducking in to kiss him.

There’s no symphony or choir that starts singing but his heart does feel about three sizes too big like that Dr.Seuss book, and Eddie kisses him back so softly, as if he’s going to break. More likely that he’ll pull away, but Richie can’t imagine. Pulling away from this magical kiss. Eddie’s tongue licks tentatively at his lips and Richie opens his mouth immediately in a grin.

He hears a dog whistle and an “Atta boy!” And wow he hates his team so much. They’re getting fired, the whole lot of them.

Things must get a little heated because he hears the sharp clearing of a throat,

“I can get you out the back way,” says Steve, sheepishly.

Except Steve, Steve can stay.

Richie is being handed a clean, dry shirt from someone, he’d forgotten, that wouldn’t be a good look, and then he takes Eddie’s hand. Firmly. It’s a good hand.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“After you,” Eddie says, squeezing back.

“Why not after you? You’re the one with the ass that won’t quit.”

“You’re the one paying for this Lyft so you’re going first.”

“Hm, expensive date. Am I going to get into your pants later at least?”

Eddie scoffs,

“Do you ever stop?”

Richie halts,

“Actually no. Is that a deal breaker, because-“

Eddie shakes his head quickly,

“No. No. I love it. I love you.”

Richie’s head swirls,

“Um. I’m not ready.”

He knows he’d brought this up. His secret had started it, but, the last person he’d said I love you to was Sarah. And he most certainly was not in love with Sarah.

“It’s okay. I just don’t want there to be any confusion on how I feel. I love you Richie.”

Eddie squeezes his hand as a black car pulls up in front of them.

“Damn that was fast.”

“Oh Edward, bold of you to assume I don’t have my own car.”

“Don’t call me that! God, you really are famous.”

“A little bit,” he says in a singsong voice, opening the door for Eddie.

“Shut up dick.”

“Hey, your face will look good in paper print, I think.”

Richie slides in the car next to Eddie,

“Your face would look good-

“Where Eddie?” He dares, “where?”

“You know what, your... mom. It’s unfair, I haven’t worked on my insults in thirty years, you’re over here being a professional cornball.”

Richie snorts,

“Not my problem. Cause I can go all night baby.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow,

“Can you now?”

There’s a cough from the front seat,

“Sorry Carl. I’ll tell my friend to simmer down, there are innocents around.”

“You know I can hear you starting it Richie. Right?”

“Carl, you wound me. How can you think that I would have such a dirty mind?”

“Where are we going sir?”

He makes a puking noise,

“Sir.. gross. Just home.”

“Sounds good sir,” Carl says once more to be a dick.

“I like the sound of that,” Eddie teases, “Sir.”

“Oh hell no. First of all, fuck off. Second of all, you’d be referring to me as sir under entirely different circumstances.”

Eddie’s face flames,

“Natalie didn’t say you were this insane.”

“Natalie, Angel, light of my life, would never betray me like that. What did she tell you?”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips,

“Secrets, secrets.”

“I don’t think you’re meant to be friends with my ex.”

Eddie pales slightly at that and Richie wonders if he made it too weird.

“I mean, she’s my best friend too so,”

“No no, it’s fine, I just never thought of it like that. Oh god? That’s my competition? Teenie bopper soap star with a great rack?”

Richie stiffens at hearing Natalie being reduced to that, but he hears what Eddie is saying,

“There’s no competition Eds. Never been one.”

Eddie looks up at him and smiles softly. Richie leans in for a kiss. It gets a little heated and Richie tries to stretch out so Eddie can lay beside him, but Eddie kicks Carl’s chair and there’s a very judgmental  stare coming from the rear view mirror,

“Mr.Tozier, there’s a reason I don’t drive preteens anymore.”

“Fine, fine, can you speed up then?”

“I am happily going the five over the speed limit you usually request.”

“If I pay you extra can you make it ten?”

He hesitates like he wouldn’t do it for free, before grinning,

“3%?”

“Done.”

The car speeds a little faster and luckily Eddie’s short enough to crunch his legs up on the seat so that he can lay on Richie’s chest. He feels good. He feels real. He feels promised.

[taexual]

For Granted / Jimin x Reader

You didn’t realize that what you and Jimin had was deteriorating, until the ashes of what once was a successful relationship were right in front of you. Is that the end for you and Jimin?

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Warnings: strong language, angst

Words: 4k

REQUESTS: jimin angst...you two have big fight and he says things he regrets (maybe he tells you he can’t look at you or something) so you leave but the longer you’re gone the more scared he is and he can’t find you but fluffy ending....or if you have another idea honestly anything jiminie would make me happy thank you so much<3 –k

can u please write a super angsty one shot with either yoongi/jimin with a like a not expected ending(idk like a fluff or something??)?

thank you for requesting this, you know i live for angst 🙈

It was another day just like the previous one. In all honesty, you should have seen it coming. Jimin didn’t bother to make time for you this whole week — just like last week, — so there was no point to expect him to suddenly call you now that it was Friday night.

Thing is, you knew that he was working. But then again… was he always working?

Every time you checked your phone, instead of seeing a text from your boyfriend of ten months, you would see a Twitter notification, letting you know that he posted a selfie or tweeted something. The last straw was when he posted a selfie with Jungkook and Taehyung, mentioning in the caption, how much he was enjoying his “free day out with best friends.”

You had no idea he had a free day and you couldn’t understand why he chose to spend his free day with his friends – also known as the people he was with 24/7 – instead of his girlfriend, whom he hasn’t seen in almost two weeks now.

Texting him again after he barely replied to any of your previous texts seemed like admitting defeat – blame it on the pride – so, instead of that, you opted for the next best thing and subtweeted him in a not-so-subtle manner. The fans didn’t know about your relationship yet, so you didn’t have to worry about acting petty online. You knew Jimin would see this tweet, he had your notifications on and you didn’t use Twitter very often anyway.

           @y/n_TT: life is great when your relationship status is “taken, but not really” :)

You weren’t desperately thirsting for his attention, but the longer you read the tweet that you just posted, the more you realized that, instead of appearing to be childish, the tweet just appeared to be absolutely true.

You haven’t talked to your boyfriend in two weeks. Well, you have talked to him. You sent him more twenty texts and he replied to one – the one that said, “u coming over tonight?” – with “no.” That has never happened before. At this point, you weren’t even sure if you were still together.

About a couple of hours after you posted the tweet, you heard the door of your apartment unlock. You put the book that you were reading down and stood up from your bed warily. The only people who had keys to your apartment were your parents – whom you got off the phone with about fifteen minutes ago, they claimed to have been resting at home – and Jimin.

“Y/n?” your boyfriend’s irritated voice called out for you from the hallway.

“Jimin?” you mumbled, feeling the way your heart started to beat faster as you realized that it must have been the tweet that got him to come here. You opened the door of your bedroom, suddenly face-to-face with Jimin’s angry face. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Jimin countered, not even trying to cover his anger up. “How about you tell me what you’re doing?”

You stared at him defiantly. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Oh, really?” Jimin crossed his arms over his chest. “Then what’s happening on Twitter? Why did my best friend send me your tweet with a side-eyed emoji, saying that I’m “in trouble” now?”

So, Jimin wouldn’t have even seen your tweet if his friend wouldn’t have shown it to him. Feeling anger explode into your bloodstream, you clenched your jaw.

“Which best friend was it?” you asked. “Was it one of the two that you spent your ‘free day’ with?”

Jimin laughed dryly, nodding to himself. “Okay, I see how it is.”

“Do you?” you asked, your face expressionless. “Because I’ve been trying to reach you but you’ve ignored every one of my texts. I’m surprised it was that tweet that brought you here.”

“So, this is what you do, huh?” Jimin countered, aggression pouring out of every word that he said. “You can’t wait one damn day until I have more time so I could come see you. No, you have to make everything public as if our relationship is suddenly everyone’s business.”

“It’s been two weeks since you texted me last, Jimin,” you said, attempting to calm yourself down, so, hopefully, a fight would be avoided. “I don’t even know if I’m waiting for anything anymore.”

“I thought you told me you could handle this,” he replied, sounding disappointed and this way fueling your anger even more. “I thought you knew what you were getting yourself into when you started to date me.”

“I did! I do!” you shot back louder. “But it’s just me working on this relationship, Jimin. I am dating you, but are you dating me?”

Jimin didn’t bother to listen to you. “What the hell are you even talking about? You know how busy I am.”

“It takes ten seconds to send one text,” you replied. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he huffed.

“What does it sound like?” you played along.

“It sounds to me like you’re asking me not to do anything else and just be with you,” Jimin answered, his angry voice sounding oddly deep. “I love you, Y/n, but is being with you all of the time going to make our lives any easier?”

“I’m not asking you to be with me all of the time!” you were literally yelling now. “You don’t have to make it seem like I’m not good enough for you.”

“I’m not trying to make it seem like that,” he said. “I’m saying that my job is everything to me, I—”

“So, what about our relationship, then?” you cut him off angrily. “Does it mean nothing to you?”

“It doesn’t—ugh, God, are you even listening to me?” he threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “I’m saying that I can’t spend all of my time with you.”

“That’s great because you don’t!” you said, realizing that both of you were now loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “You don’t spend any time with me at all!”

“Do you hear yourself?” Jimin yelled back. “Do you hear how needy you sound?”

“Needy—I’m literally asking you to communicate with me at least a little bit,” you replied, groaning. “Otherwise, what the hell is the point?”

“The point is, I’m busy and you can’t grasp that.”

“You’re being selfish,” you concluded.

“What?” Jimin snapped. “I’m being selfish by working towards my dream? By trying to ensure my future? How is that selfish?!”

“You’re being selfish in terms of our relationship,” you said. “What would you do if you were me? Would you not care that I completely ignore you for weeks?”

“I would give you time,” Jimin replied with dignity. “I’d understand that you’re busy.”

“Would you?” you almost laughed. “Last time I was too busy to make time for you, I remember you bursting into my apartment and continuously asking me what was wrong until I could go out with you.”

Jimin hadn’t expected you to say this but he regained his balance pretty quickly.

“At least I wasn’t subtweeting you!” he countered, still making it seem as if he would have handled this better than you did. “I mean, what are you? Twelve?”

“I wanted to subtweet you,” you admitted, feeling the way your muscles tightened in anger. Violence wasn’t the answer but you were seconds away from slapping him. “But in the end, I wasn’t subtweeting anyone. I just tweeted the truth.”

“So, it’s you who doesn’t think anything of our relationship,” Jimin said.

“Don’t make this about me.”

“I’m not making this about anything,” he replied. “I’m trying to understand why you’re causing a scene when—”

“Jimin!” you cut him off, losing all patience. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not causing a fucking scene!”

“Then stop yelling!”

“I can’t stop yelling because you don’t listen to a single thing I say!”

You’ve never seen this fire in Jimin’s eyes before so there was no way for you to anticipate what he was going to say next.

“That’s because nothing you say makes any sense!” he yelled. “Didn’t you come up with any arguments why you felt the need to fucking tweet about me instead of waiting just a little bit so I could respond to you? Didn’t you have enough time to think about what to say to me when you were sulking at home, waiting for me to come get you as if you have no one else to spend your time with?”

You ended up not slapping him. But it sure as hell felt like he slapped you.

“W-what?” you asked, thrown aback. “You think that’s all I do? You think my whole life revolves around you?”

“I—”

“You think I spend every single day waiting for you to come to me?” you continued, still unable to believe that this is what he thought of you. “I’m not your fucking dog, Jimin.”

“I didn’t say you were!” he yelled, sounding even more irritated now that you drew conclusions from what he just said.

“Yeah, well, it sure sounded like you did,” you replied.

“Ugh, Y/n, for the love of God, can you just—” he stopped when you tried to push past him towards the door of your apartment. He grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Where are—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you shook your hand out of his grip, noticing how much physical power the anger and disappointment supplied you with.

“Where are you going?” he repeated sternly, watching you approach the door of the apartment.

“I’m leaving,” you replied simply.

“What? So, you pull this shit and get me to come here just to leave?”

You had to close your eyes and take a deep breath so you wouldn’t start yelling again. There was no point to show him you cared enough about this to yell some more.

“Since I had to ‘pull this shit’ to get you to talk to me, then maybe I should have realized it sooner,” you said in a surprisingly calm voice.

“Realized what?” Jimin asked, contrary to you, not sounding any calmer.

“That leaving is the only option in this relationship.”

A moment of silence settled between you before Jimin spoke again. “So you’re breaking up with me?”

“I’m leaving,” you said.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” he shouted, annoyed at your lack of explanations.

You were done with this fight, however.

Opening the door, you didn’t even bother to turn to look at him again. “It means whatever you want it to mean.”

The worst part about the fight was that you were the one who left. It was your apartment, after all. You knew you should have kicked Jimin out instead, but the thought of having to deal with him any longer was too suffocating. You just needed to get out of there.

Sitting in a small café a few blocks away from your apartment, you turned your phone off after noticing that Jimin was trying to call you.

Two weeks of silence and he came back, yelling at you as if trying to save this relationship was your fault, disrespecting you as if you meant nothing to him, and forcing you to reach an even deeper level of obscurity. Were you still together? And if you were, how long would you remain this way?

This was no relationship. You communicated more today than you did in two whole weeks, which, when compared to the previous stages of your relationship – when you texted each other all of the time if you couldn’t physically be with each other – was nothing short of a sign that this was over. And, if it wasn’t over, then it was definitely coming to an end.

Sighing deeply, you grabbed another coffee-to-go before heading back to your apartment. You knew that there was no way Jimin was still there – he was too busy – and yet, deep inside, you promised yourself that if he had stayed there, refusing to leave your apartment until you came back, you’d forget all about the fight.

But Jimin had left.

You didn’t hear from him in twenty-four hours – granted, your phone was still off, so he may have tried to reach you, but was unsuccessful – and then there came a knock on your door. When you reached it and noticed a stranger standing there, you hesitated before opening it.

“Miss Y/n?” the guy, seemingly younger than you, asked.

You noticed a bouquet of roses in his hands and your heart involuntarily sped up.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you replied.

“This is a delivery for you,” he handed the roses to you.

“Uh…” you tried to balance the bouquet in your hands. “Thank you. Who is this from?”

“I was told there should be a note attached,” the delivery boy, as you figured, replied and waited a few more seconds before bowing slowly. “Have a good day, miss.”

“Thank you, uh, you too,” you replied distractedly, as you attempted to close the door and find the supposedly attached note.

You found it and somehow, instead of speeding up again, your heart rate just dropped.

           Y/n,

I’m sorry. Can we just talk? X

                    –Jimin

Flowers were a very nice gesture, you had to give it to him. And yet, aside from symbolizing eternal love, these red roses also symbolized Jimin’s negligence. Your relationship – although barely even existing – still didn’t mean enough for him to find the time to actually show up. And if that was the case, then why was he even trying?

You wouldn’t have blamed him for breaking up with you because he was too busy for a relationship. You would have suffered a bit – that’s a normal reaction to a break-up – but you would have understood. Leading you on as your relationship kept falling apart was not something that you could understand easily, however.

So, with an empty heart, you opened the trash bin, tossing the flowers into it, and realizing that, symbolically, you threw away the chances of saving your relationship along with the red roses.

Or so you thought.

A few days later, your friend finally convinced you to leave the apartment and go out for a cup of coffee at an outdoor café downtown. She insisted that you couldn’t spend this sunny day sulking at home, and you were this close to proving her wrong but, eventually, you agreed. Perhaps going out was going to be a nice way to clear your head.

And then, as soon as you sat down on the terrace, cups of coffee in hand, your friend tensed up, noticing something – or, rather, someone – behind you.

“What’s wrong—?” you asked, turning around to take a look for yourself.

She grabbed your hand, stopping you. “I called Jimin. I’m sorry.”

You felt your body go cold as you moved your hand out of her grip and turned around to notice Jimin, stopping to stand next to your table. He looked tired and the dark bags under his eyes emphasized that.

“He kept texting me about getting in touch with you,” your friend explained as your eyes remained glued on Jimin. “I’m sorry, Y/n, but I think you two have some unsolved business you need to talk about. I-I’m going to go.”

You turned to look at her when she started to stand up from her seat.

“You’re dead to me,” you told her with a straight face.

She smiled, catching the subtle teasing tone in your voice. “Call me after, okay? I love you.”

She gave you a quick hug – that you didn’t bother to respond to – and walked away, leaving you and Jimin alone.

He stood by the table for a few more moments and you could tell that the people around you were starting to feel concerned for this exhausted-looking man, who kept standing next to your table and just staring at you.

You cleared your throat. “Are you okay?”

Only when you engaged him in conversation did Jimin dare to sit down in front of you, taking your friend’s place.

“No,” he said. “I haven’t slept since you left.”

The roses he sent meant nothing in comparison to the explosions of emotions that his words caused. You weren’t sure if you needed this right now as you took a deep breath and debated leaving.

“Please don’t go,” Jimin said weakly, noticing your hesitation. “Listen to me. Please.”

“Jimin…” you exhaled painfully, suddenly wishing that your relationship with him would have ended with that fight and not with this obviously heart-wrenching conversation that was coming. You were not emotionally prepared for it.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” Jimin continued despite the protesting look in your eyes. “I’m so sorry. You couldn’t find a person more stupid than me if you tried, I swear. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You—”

“No, listen to me,” he cut you off, shaking his head, and automatically extending his hand to touch yours, but then stopping abruptly. Not yet. “I’m the worst boyfriend in history but I swear I love you. Words can’t describe how sorry I am that it took this – a break – for me to see that my priorities were all wrong. I don’t want to lose you, Y/n.”

God, his words could really play on your heartstrings. It took you a few minutes to calm your breathing again. All through this, his eyes never left yours.

“Jimin, you don’t have time for this,” you finally said, allowing the sensible part of your brain to do the speaking for you.

“I know,” Jimin nodded, surprising you. You would have expected him to deny his busy schedule now that he was – possibly – trying to make up with you. “But I promise I’ll try harder. I don’t care how many sleepless nights it’ll take me to make up for everything. I’d rather not sleep out of love than not sleep because I’ve lost you.”

You shook your head, afraid to listen to his promises. “Don’t—”

“I miss you so much,” he cut you off again. “I swear, I’m not trying to manipulate you into anything. I’m suffering without you, Y/n.”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you listened to this. You needed to hear him say those words. You imagined him saying those words. But now that this was the reality, you weren’t sure what to do with your life anymore. You couldn’t tell what the right choice was.

“Jimin, y-you can’t just come and say all of those things…” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“Y/n… I don’t know what else to do,” he said, not knowing what to do with his hands who ached to touch you. “I’ve taken you for granted and I don’t deserve you. I put you through too much and I said things I didn’t mean. I swear, I never thought of you as someone who belongs to me. I know you have your own life and I’m a very complicated part of it. But, God, I love being a part of your life so much. I love you so much.”

Taking a shaky breath, you finally dared to look at him and almost looked away immediately, the sight of his sad eyes was too heartbreaking to bear. “W-what happened? You spent weeks without talking to me and everything was fine. Now it’s… it’s been three days and you’re—”

“I grew up,” Jimin said. “That’s what happened. You opened my eyes and took my heart with you when you left.”

He paused, looking down. At first, you thought he was just trying to choose what to say next, but when he looked up at you again, you realized he was trying not to cry.

“I can’t imagine myself without you,” he continued in a quieter voice. “I thought I could just ask you to wait for me, no matter how long. But I can’t do that to you. I was stupid and disrespectful, and I’m sorry. But, please, don’t put an end to this. I promise I’ll try. I’ll try harder. I promise I’ll be everything I wasn’t and you will never have to suffer because of me again. I promise I’ll make this relationship worth your while. I promise I won’t be asking for a second chance ever again.”

Your heart started to beat faster and faster with every promise he made, and you had to look away from him to get yourself together again. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m not. I’ll keep every single one of them,” Jimin replied. “I know I don’t deserve you but let me redeem myself, please. You’re way too good for me but I can’t survive without you. The fight that we had almost killed me.”

Suddenly flashing back to the fight the two of you had days ago, you inhaled deeply and prepared to tell him everything you were feeling.

“What do you think the fight did to me?” you started. “Jimin, you come here and you tell me how you’re feeling. How hurt you are. But did you take a moment to consider what it did to me? I spent every day after our last fight trying not to think that those ten months that we spent together were pointless. That they didn’t mean anything. That they weren’t real. That you only needed someone when you were bored but that someone didn’t necessarily have to be me.”

“But it has to be you!” Jimin replied, suddenly frantic. His hand reached for yours despite the silent doubts coming from the back of his mind. “I don’t need ‘just someone.’ I need you.”

You shook your head but didn’t have enough strength to get your hand out of his soft grip. “Maybe you just think you do.”

“No,” he said. “I know you’re hurt and I understand if you need time to think about this. But please don’t let my mistakes – and my foolishness – ruin this. I’m happy with you. Aren’t you happy with me?”

You were happy at that moment. You were both pouring pain out of your hearts, and yet your hand was in his and you were happy. You couldn’t understand these paradoxical feelings.

“I don’t know what I am anymore,” you said.

Swallowing slowly, Jimin waited for you to look at him before he continued. “I love you.”

You closed your eyes and yet a traitor tear still slid down your cheek, landing on the wooden table between you and Jimin, and leaving a wet mark of pain right next to your intertwined hands.

“You don’t have to try so hard to make this relationship work if you know you won’t have time for it,” you said shakily. “You’ll hurt me more by pretending.”

“I’m not pretending. And I’m not trying to hurt you,” Jimin said, holding onto your hand tighter. “I’m trying to make you see that I messed up. I allowed myself to think that you were always going to be there for me. I was too blind to see how one-sided our relationship was. I didn’t hear you when you told me this to my face. I apologize for everything, Y/n. I love you so much. Please give me a chance to make this up to you.”

Mirroring you, a sorrowful tear appeared on the corner of Jimin’s eye, slowly finding its way down his cheek. As you watched it fall down his face, you found yourself wishing it was your hands caressing his features instead of tears. You never wanted to see him cry. Not because of you.

Speechless, you watched the tear fall down on the table, creating another memory – however temporary – of the painful words that were confessed at this table.

“I can’t lose you, Y/n,” Jimin said, shaking his head as another tear fell down his face. “You’re the love of my life.”

masterlist / ask (requests are closed)

[hiraeth-doux]

A Road Paved In Gold (14/21)

Summary: Steve Trevor didn’t die in the sky in Belgium, but his survival came with a price he couldn’t have ever imagined.

A/N: Hey, look who is still alive. I know it’s been a while and technically I’m still travelling but I didn’t want to make you guys wait for two more weeks or so, so here we go! Hope you will enjoy it  and please let me know what you think! ♡♡  And thank you for your patience!

AO3 |  FF.net

Gotham, 2017

Slipping into their old patterns was the easiest thing. One day, the world seemed to be falling apart before Steve’s eyes and nothing made sense, and then suddenly it was like the past several decades had never happened. There was comfort to familiarity, to knowing each other enough for the adjustment to the change in their relationship to not be grating, but there was also a thrill to discovering small details about one another that had come to be since 1952.

While Steve remained a drifter he had always been, Diana’s life turned out being stitched together of habits and routines that fascinated him to no end. She went running almost every morning, claiming that it helped her keep her head clear. There was a path circling the lake, and even though it had nothing on the trails crazing through Themyscira, she seemed to enjoy it well enough. Although, if Steve woke up before she left, she wouldn’t put up a fight if he tried to cajole her back into bed. He couldn’t get enough of her – the sound of her voice, her laughter, the way her fingers would sometimes skim casually over his body and set his blood on fire.

Even away from Paris, she worked a lot, sending emails and making phone calls in more languages than he could recognize, effortlessly juggling her duties as the Curator of Antiques with her life as a heart and soul of the League. If she had allowed it, he would be more than happy to spend his days watching her, the easy grace with which she moved about the house, the way she spoke to the dealers and her assistant and the other Curators about something or other that made his mind reel.

On top of that, despite having an affinity for tea, she seemed to have a special relationship with the coffee maker in the kitchen that only tolerated her and Alfred and couldn’t stand everyone else, and she could type texts faster than Barry (at his human speed), much to the frustration of the latter.

It took Steve all of three days to pick up on all of that, and when he oh so proudly laid out his observations to her at some point, she called him ‘such a spy’, which made him laugh until his stomach hurt.

The old things had come back, too. Those that remained dormant in his mind – like what side of the bed she preferred to sleep on, the way she tended to reach for his hand without thinking, how she tilted her head when she was curious or puzzled. All the details that he missed about her that made him ache on the inside for so long that he thought he would wither and die from a heartbreak.

She was his Diana still, the woman that he had loved for so long that he could no longer remember what it was like not to, but also so much more that Steve could hardly comprehend how one person could contain all the wonder and beauty of different worlds within her. A clash of times and contrasts. To him, she was still a Princess of the Amazons who once got confused by a revolving door, but now she was also a woman who used emojis in text messages and easily understood pop culture references. She still read the works of the Greek philosophers, in Greek, but was also fond of Lord of the Rings and the novels of Hemingway and Huxley. It was, he had to admit, a lot to wrap his mind around.

It was new, but also not, and he loved every moment of pulling everything that they were and all that they were meant to be to the surface, watching a puzzle fall into a complete picture. She was open and honest and unapologetic about her feelings, and the onslaught of quips that Steve half-expected from the members of the League never came, although he was tempted to ask if there was ever another bet going on, and maybe he and Diana deserved to be in on it. Except it didn’t really matter because he had already won a jackpot, and who cared about the rest?

“It wasn’t permanent, you know,” she told him one night, tracing lines on his skin with his fingers, her cheek resting on his collarbone.

“What wasn’t?” Steve asked, sleepy, too sated and relaxed to think straight.

“I’m not weaker than I was before.” Her voice was soft, but he went still, hanging on to every word, suddenly very awake, his hand that was tracing the line of her spine frozen just beneath her shoulder blades. “I thought about it, about what you said, and I suppose it’s not impossible that my mother was right, but if bringing you back cost me some strength, it came back again.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at the ceiling, wondering if they had wasted all this time for nothing, if he had actually ruined nearly seven decades for them both, or if she only managed to heal properly because he was not around. There was no way of knowing it for sure, and he knew that dwelling on it would only cause pain to them both, but it was hard, so very hard to not think of it. She wouldn’t lie to him, and she wouldn’t have said that if she wasn’t sure.

Where it left him was another thing altogether.

As if the list of unforgivable things he had done wasn’t long enough already.

Diana lifted her head and pulled just far enough away from him to look him in the face.

“What are you thinking?” She asked, reading his inner turmoil chase across his features, anguish and regret mixed into something that had no name.

“But what if the next time--” he started, the damned habit of thinking ten steps ahead because back in the day it was his only way to survive rearing its ugly head again.

She touched her thumb to his lower lip and smiled that divine smile of hers. “Then so be it.”

He didn’t speak of it again, vowing silently to himself to live forever if he had to. If that was what it took to keep her safe.

---

A few days after moving into Diana’s room, Steve woke up just after dawn, his eyes raw and his mind as foggy as the early November day outside the glass wall of her bedroom, pale wisps clinging to the remnants of frozen grass. It was early still, but Diana’s side of the bed was empty, and even half-sleep, he missed her desperately.

Steve ran his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. He buried his nose into her pillow, hoping for the slumber to claim him once more, but it never came. He blinked his eyes open, slowly and unwillingly, waiting for his head to clear. There was a sound that he first mistook for the ever-present patter of rain against the glass, but when he turned his head, he found Diana sitting at the desk to the left from him, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop.

For a few moments, he simply watched her, taking her in, all of her so achingly beautiful that he wondered half the time if he was dreaming. One of her legs was tucked beneath her thigh, and her hair was loose, falling down her shoulders in heavy waves, and she was wearing nothing but her underwear and a tank top - a very thin one - and he decided that next to having her in bed next to him and without any clothes whatsoever, this was the second best view he could possibly wake up to.

And then she looked up and saw him study her with sleepily eyes, breaking into a smile so bright and wonderful that it made his chest constrict fiercely. And Steve thought, I could never love anyone more than I love this woman.

“Hey,” he croaked, stifling a yawn.

“Morning,” she whispered, seemingly no longer caring about whatever it was that kept her so wildly occupied not a few seconds ago.

“Why are you up?” Steve grimaced a little. “S’early.”

And they had a late night. A very last night.

“Work,” she responded, amused, as she watched him fighting a losing battle. “Go back to sleep, Steve.”

He rolled onto his side, claiming her half of the bed and murmured, “C’mere,” in that thick, sleep-laced voice that never failed to undo her in the best way. He stretched and tucked Diana’s pillow under his cheek, watching her gaze trail along the outline of his body beneath the sheet slung over his waist, weighing the options. He knew the look. He liked that look very much. He particularly liked the things that often followed soon afterwards.

“I do have responsibilities, you know that, right?” Diana pointed out, an eyebrow arched and her chin resting on the heel of her hand propped on her desk.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed noncommittally, barely bothering to contain a smile that threatened to split his face in half. “At 7 in the morning?”

“It’s past noon in Paris,” she countered, clearly enjoying his impatience.

He scrunched his face, struggling for an argument that could tramp her sense of obligation in favour of something, well, less productive but much more fun. It was far too early for that, though. Thinking, that is. His thoughts were tumbling aimlessly into one another without much aim or purpose.

And so, he opted for looking at her, taking in the glint in her eyes and a quirk of her eyebrow and the way her tank top was hugging her body just right even though it did seem entirely excessive, all things considered.

How on earth he managed to survive without her for so long was beyond him.

At last, Diana caved in, never a fan of this game. She uncured from her seat and crossed the room, padding barefoot across the soft carpet and then lowering down on the edge of the bed beside him. The mattress dipped beneath the weight of her body, and Steve moved closer to her, reaching for her hand. He kissed her knuckles, watching her watch him with that small secret smile of hers that never failed to make him feel like he was losing his mind.

And then he dropped the pretences too because resisting the temptation was too bloody much for this early hour. He pushed up to sit and tugged her to him until she was close enough for his mouth to brush against hers.

“Hi,” he said again.

“Hi,” she whispered, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

God, he loved her smile. That smile alone could end wars and bring peace to the world, he thought.

His hand pushed into her hair, tangling in her black mane, the strands soft as silk between his fingers, bridging what little space was left between them. Her response was immediate, her body leaning into his touch and, encouraged, Steve bit gently at her bottom lip, coaxing a low moan out of her. She sighed softly against his lips. A wave of heat seared through him, blinding in its intensity.

“Steve,” she started without conviction when his lips moved across her cheek.

“Hm?” His mouth latched on the underside of her jaw, his thumb running slow circles on the back of her neck. “It’s too early to be out of bed and wear so many clothes.”

Her fingers curled around his wrist, although in protest or encouragement he wasn’t sure. She didn’t stop him though, so he hoped it was the latter.

“I’m practically naked,” Diana argued, amused.

“Not naked enough,” he murmured, nuzzling into the tender spot behind her ear. “Let’s fix that.”

“Steve.”

She drew just far enough away to be able to find his gaze, her hand resting on his ribs and making the early-morning process of putting his thoughts together into something more or less coherent nearly impossible.  

Still, he sighed, although not relinquishing the physical contact, his hand merely dropping to rest on her waist. “So, what’s this about?” Steve asked, his eyes darting toward her laptop that glowed in the dimness of a gloomy morning.

“A quarterly report and some shipment forms that needed my approval,” Diana explained, her fingers strumming absently along his skin. “Pierre is worried about the exhibition we’re opening later this month.”

Pierre, her assistant. The very one who somehow always knew to call at the most inconvenient times – even more so than Barry who texted pretty much nonstop, and it was often very had to tell whether it was an emergency or a new cat meme. Having been instantly added to his contact list was an interesting experience, Steve had found out very fast.

With Pierre, on the other hand, everything was an emergency. And maybe it was, but Steve had yet to figure out how exactly he expected Diana to fix them all from across half of the world. He was curious, though. He had seen Diana in many roles – a woman, a lover, a warrior. Yet the idea of her working at the Louvre – the Louvre – intrigued him greatly and he wondered what she was like as a boss and how she was different in that role from the Amazonian demi-goddess he was far more familiar with.

She was bossy, for sure. Had been for as long as they had known each other.

“Rightfully worried or panicking because you’re here and not there to supervise?” Steve clarified.

Diana laughed. “A little bit of both, I think.”

“Well, he’s a big boy.” He paused and frowned. “He is, isn’t he?”

She nodded, smiling. “He is. But some of those things are my job, not his.”

“He’s doing fantastic, I’m sure.” His fingers curled around her neck to draw her closer, his mouth finding hers again as he thought, This is what every morning should be like for as long as I breathe.

Steve’s hand slid down her neck, trailing the length of her arm before slipping around her waist.

“Steve.”

“Mm.”

His mouth abandoned hers and started to inch its way toward her neck once more, his teeth grazing lightly along the sensitive skin as he moved closer toward the spot that worked like magic. Her breath caught in her throat and Steve smiled to himself, feeling her resolve crumble. His fingers traced along the hem of her tank top before sliding underneath it, searching for skin. Christ, he loved her so much it almost hurt in that impossibly pleasant way that he wanted to never stop.

“Steve,” Diana tried again, albeit without conviction, trailing off as her spine arched under his touch.

He inched her tank top up, and then some more, kissing his way down her neck and toward her collarbone and wanting nothing more than to pull her to him and stay in bed for another hour, or five. Or the rest of the day, for that matter. They could make good use of that.

Was the wanting ever going to go away? He had no idea. He had no idea how what he felt for her could ever go away, or even fade. How much time could one person need for something this consuming to cease to be? Several lifetimes, for certain. And he didn’t want it to. Didn’t want to not feel this burning for her, the need simmering beneath his skin, the elation that filled him at the mere thought of her smile. Didn’t want the pricking of his skin at the sound of her voice whispering to him in the dark to ever ebb.

He turned his head, pressing his mouth to the pulse point just under her jaw, her blood throbbing rapidly against his lips. Pleased, he trailed his hand down her back and lower still, his fingers tracing the hem of her panties along the curve of her thigh, moving slowly closer to where she loved to be touched, both of them very much aware that once he got there her resistance wouldn’t stand a chance. Diana muttered something he didn’t catch, desire pulsing in his blood.

“Steve.”

With a hand on his chest, holding him firmly in place, she pulled away and took a steadying breath, dazed – much to his satisfaction, but also amused beyond measure by his rather confused look, caused by the sudden lack of contact.

“I wasn’t done,” he protested and tried to reach for her, but damn the Amazon strength that, with just a small nudge, had him on his back again.

“I have a meeting with a curator of the Gotham Museum of Art in an hour,” Diana said, steering the conversation in a different direction while she so very obviously tried not to laugh at the defeated look on his face. “To see if maybe we could do a collection exchange. They seem to be quite interested.”

“I can be quick,” Steve promised eagerly and heatedly and with as much conviction as he could muster, completely ignoring the second part of her statement. “And efficient. I can be very efficient,” he added when she tilted her head and arched an eyebrow.

He grinned.

“Don’t I know that,” Diana smirked and leaned over to kiss the corner of his mouth, her hand still holding him against the sheets. “And I prefer to take my time with you,” she whispered. “Tonight.”

Steve swallowed, watching the fire flare up in her eyes, his own body responding to it in an instant.

“How about I take you for lunch when I’m done?” She offered as a truce, taking pity on his wounded expression and, well, some other parts of him.

“I’m not sure I can wait that long,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the bow of her mouth and then further down to the expanse of her skin disappearing in the cleavage of her shirt. “I’m hungry now.”

She laughed and stood up, and it took him a whole of two seconds to start missing her terribly.

“You’ll have to manage, I’m afraid,” she said, sitting back down at the desk.

Steve turned on his side and propped up on his elbow. “Hey, how come it’s always you taking me places?”

Diana glanced at him. “Because you don’t know the city.”

He made a face and ran his hand over his hair, trying to smooth it down and failing spectacularly. “Yeah, fair point.” He paused. “But how about I take you out for a change?”

Her eyes narrowed skeptically. “Where?”

The corner of his mouth curled upwards. “I have an idea.”

Diana turned off her laptop and closed it before crossed the room again until she was standing right before him, and Steve’s gaze traveled unashamedly up and down her legs.

“I’m sure you do.”

“Outside of this room, I swear,” he added, looking up. “Unless….” He let the sentence hang between them, his suggestive tone more than a little hopeful.

She shook his head, laughed, and leaned down to kiss him once more, her hand stroking his stubbled cheek. “I’ll come get you here at 1, yes?”

Steve craned his neck to chase her lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Sleep,” she murmured, her face not an inch away from his. “I promise you we won’t have time for it tonight.”

He smiled. “Tease.”

“You started it.”

He did, and he regretted nothing.

Steve chuckled, pulling her pillow closer and inhaling her scent that still lingered on it as Diana headed toward the bathroom. “Yeah, well, who wouldn’t?”

---

By the time Diana came out of the shower and got dressed, Steve was already asleep again, sprawled diagonally across the bed with his arms wrapped around her pillow. She smiled and walked over to the bed, more than a little tempted to wake him up and allow him to get her out of her clothes this time. So very tempted. They had done that before, and the memory of those moments stirred something warm in her chest, her whole body humming with need for his touch.

However, she did mean it when she said that some of the tasks her assistant was doing now were not entirely his responsibility, and had Diana been in Paris, it would have been a different story. Here, though, her resources were limited and time zones were an issue to be considered, and it wasn’t like she could take care of physically arranging the collection from another continent. Steve’s amusement regarding Pierre’s dependency wasn’t unreasonable, and while personally, Diana found it rather endearing, she did appreciate his hard work nonetheless, and the least she could do while she was here was finish the negotiations that had started months ago and were still nowhere near complete.

If nothing else, it made her feel a little bit better about still being in Gotham even though there was, technically, no need for it and no reason for her to stay, except for the man snoring softly into her pillow right now, tangled in the sheets, and her desperate need to hold on to this time with him, like this, for just a while longer.

She had lovers after Steve, people she was comfortable with and cared about, but never once was she scared of losing anyone the way she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. She wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  

Lips curved into a smile, Diana crouched down near the bed. She stroked her hand through Steve’s hair, mindful of not disturbing him, and then pressed her lips to his forehead, breathing him in and trying to ignore the longing building up in her chest with all her might.

No one had ever had the kind of power over her that Steve wielded, and not once was she willing to give it to anyone so gladly.

His face scrunched a little at her touch, and she whispered a quiet I love you, unable to stop herself. Unable to stop saying it, period. Needed to say it for every day that she had spent missing him, the words whispered into his skin when they were making love and repeated again and again as they lay basking in the content afterglow.

And then, after a moment of hesitation, Diana stood up before she had a chance to change her mind and crawl back into his arms, the rest of the world be damned. She walked quietly out of the room, closing the door behind her and doing her goddamn best to ignore a pang of panic in her chest. It was still new, and half the time it felt like a dream and she was terrified out of her mind to wake up and find out that he was still gone.

She got it now. Used to having him slip right through her fingers, she understood the despair lurking behind Steve’s eyes, a reflection of her own fears that made her want to avert her gaze because they were too painful to see.

There was no one in the kitchen, even though the coffee machine was on and a bitter smell of the fine Arabica was hanging in the air. She was not surprised. Both Barry and Arthur liked to sleep in and Alfred often read in the study before breakfast if there were no urgent matters for him to attend to. Such as patching Bruce up after a rough night, which, if she recalled correctly, was a fairly frequent occurrence. Her gaze lingered for a moment on her semi-transparent reflection. The temperature kept going down steadily during the past week and the glass wall overlooking the dark, gloomy forest was fogged up at the corners. It was bound to snow in a week or two, she thought absently.

Diana reached for a cup holder, looking for the mug that she had claimed as hers when she stayed here for the first time, trying to decide if she could afford to have a proper breakfast, and then reconsidered when she noticed that the light over the staircase leading down to the Batcave was on.

Maybe she could stop by a coffee shop near the museum later, she decided.

Downstairs, Bruce was half-buried under the hood of the Batmobile, tugging and pulling at something that Diana couldn’t see. He glanced up when he heard the sound of her footsteps before turning his attention back to the problem du jour again, although it was more than enough for her to notice his weary look and dark circles under his eyes. He was a morning person alright, when he had to be, but she still couldn’t help but wonder if he was already up or still.

Diana crossed the distance between them and paused near the bumper of the car, peeking inside as well out of sheer curiosity.

“You need to sleep sometimes, you know?” She said, folding her arms over her chest.

“No rest for the wicked, or however that saying goes,” Bruce muttered without looking at her.

“You don’t have to take it to extremes,” she noted, smiling. “Is there anything bothering you, Bruce?” She asked when it went unnoticed.

“Why would you think that?”

Ha made a grab for a wrench from the toolbox sitting atop the tubes and hoses.

“You haven’t been around much lately.”

In the past few days, every time she tried to catch him for a proper conversation he was either out, or on the way out, or very obviously trying to come up with an excuse to escape. If Diana didn’t know any better, she would have assumed that he was avoiding her on purpose. And quite frankly, his inability or unwillingness to even meet her eyes right now spoke volumes.  

Bruce straightened up and turned to the work bench, looking for something among the assortment of tools spread out there, his back to her.

“Maybe you were too preoccupied to notice,” he said as he picked up a screwdriver.

“Can we talk?” She offered softly, watching the back of his head, then his profile as he leaned forward again.  

“About what?”

She didn’t waver. “The benefit in Gotham two months ago.”

His hesitation was brief, yet it didn’t escape her attention.

“What about it?” Bruce asked, his voice pointedly nonchalant, and then cursed when he dropped the screwdriver into the depths of the Batmobile, the metallic clang oddly loud in the suddenly quiet room.

Diana didn’t want to do it. Regretted not doing it sooner, unbidden guilt blossoming in her chest. She didn’t owe him anything, never had, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t see that he was hurting and that it was her fault, one way or another.

“You know what,” she murmured.  

This time, Bruce did look up, his gaze tired but sharp, his expression uncompromising, although she could see a flicker of doubt flash across it, like he couldn’t quite decide if he should deny it or brush it off or pretend that he had no idea what she was talking about. She braced herself for either one.

He chose neither.

“It was a kiss, Diana. Not a proclamation of undying love.” He pushes up to stand and picked up a rag to wipe his hands that were stained black with motor oil and dirt. “Alcohol and boredom are a dangerous combination. I should know. If nothing else, we are both aware that there is no such thing as undying love to begin with.”

Everything about him was daring her to disagree.

She didn’t, even though she didn’t believe that it was nothing. Certainly not for him. Hadn’t been for a long time. Her inability to reciprocate his feelings didn’t make her blind, although it might have made her look the other way more often than not.

“You seemed to have made the decision,” Bruce added when the pause started to stretch between them. He moved closer to her until they were only inches apart and she could smell cold and whiskey and that rubbery scent of the Batsuit on him. “Is there anything that I can say that can get you to change your mind?” The question was rhetorical, but there was desperate, hungry yearning behind his words.

She met his gaze, held it, wondering for just a moment—

It didn’t matter, though.

“No,” she shook her head.

Simple.

Honest.

He was wrong on another account, too. There was such thing as an undying love. It was real, and it was burning in her chest with such intensity that it was hard to breathe, and she never wanted for it to stop. Not even for a second. Just as she was certain that it never would.

Diana didn’t say any of that, though. Knew that she didn’t need to.  

Bruce was a good man, and she cared for him deeply, but the matters of his heart were none of her concern, no matter how much he wanted them to be. They would have worked, she thought. In another lifetime, if the stars were aligned differently, they could have worked. Maybe. He was driven, his passion matching hers, and there were so many things that they viewed similarly. She never considered it seriously, but she toyed with the idea.

And then she would have probably hurt him when it turned out that he wasn’t enough. Zeus knew it had happened before.

“What if he never returned?” He asked suddenly.

Diana felt her whole body deflate. “Don’t go there, Bruce,” she breathed, shaking his head.

He watched her for a long moment, and then nodded. “Why did you make it sound like he was dead, when…” he faltered not sure how to finish the sentence.

“I never said that,” she countered. “You assumed because of the old photograph.”

Because who wouldn’t? As a rule, his people didn’t get to live to be over a hundred years ago. Not often. Certainly not without ageing. So why did she feel so foul about never correcting him? For allowing him to believe a lie?

“How?” Bruce pressed, and this time there was curiosity to him.

Because I love him, Diana thought, and like always, it made her soul unfurl until it took so much space in her chest that she could barely inhale.

“It’s complicated,” she responded. “And it doesn’t really matter.”

He nodded again and stepped away from her, choosing not to push, breaking whatever spell kept them captive in a bubble of trust that burst before her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad…” He started and faltered once more. “If you’re happy.”

“I am.” Diana looked around the cavernous room before turning back to him.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Do you still love him? After all this time?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

“I’m glad.” He repeated and looked away. “You deserve to be happy.”

They remained silent for a few moments, both searching for words that didn’t seem to come.

“When I go home, he’s coming with me,” she said after a while.

Bruce stepped back to the work bench. “So, you’ll be a package deal, then?” He asked.

She smiled tentatively, not quite certain if it was a joke, but liking his wording for some reason. “Afraid so.”

His lips twitched a little, but the smile didn’t linger. “You should be careful with Waller. She is going to use him against you,” he spoke.

Her own smile faded as well, replaced by a slight frown. It wasn’t that she never thought about it – she didn’t trust that woman and wasn’t going to start now. But it was one thing to merely have that thought cross her mind, and something else entirely to have someone else put it into words.

“The way you tried to?” She asked, surprised by the sharp edge in her voice.

“Diana--”

“Don’t think that I forgot, Bruce. Don’t think I forgot that you tried to use him to manipulate me.”

He winced, his palm running over the back of his neck. “I won’t. Trust me, I won’t.”

She squared her shoulders. “And if you do it again, I am going to walk out this door and never come back.”

He exhaled slowly, his eyes earnest. “I know, and I’m grateful that you haven’t already.”

“I won’t let Waller come anywhere near Steve,” she said.

His frown deepened. “She might not ask.”

Diana scoffed. “I’d like to see her try.”

“She’s going to have to go through all of us if she has to,” he noted.

She shook her head. “It’s a nice sentiment, but I’m sure it won’t come to it.”

Bruce’s jaw set tautly.

“It is not a sentiment, and it will come to it. Because what do you think is going to happen if she can’t get to him?” He asked, and this time her brows knitted together, his voice cutting deep. “She won’t come for you, she’s not an idiot. And she won’t come for Steve because it’s the same as coming for you. So, it stands to reason that she will try to do it through the next best target. Barry. Victor. The rest of us.” He rubbed his forehead. “You think she’s above hurting someone for her own gain? She’s done it before and she’s very good at covering up her tracks.”

Diana’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I will never let it happen.”  

He lowered his hand, his eyes weary. “It’s not your job to keep watch. Not like that.”

She was shaking her head. “What do you want me to say, Bruce? What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to understand what’s at stake here.”

“You think I don’t?” She demanded, furious. “You think I’m clueless?”

“I think you’re blindsided when it comes to Steve Trevor.” The jealousy in his voice caught her off guard. Jealousy he had no right to own. “He is your Achilles heel, if you please.”

Diana bristled at his accusation. “And Alfred is yours, and Barry’s father is his. Lois. Mera. Victor’s father. Steve is not my weakness because he loves me and I love him, he never has been.” If nothing else, he had been the opposite, showing her the side of strength she never knew existed. “We all have people we care about. It doesn’t make any one of them stand out among the others.”

“But it does,” Bruce insisted. “Waller wants more from him than she’s letting on. She can’t not to. He’s 136 years old, for heaven’s sake! However that works….” He stopped abruptly, his jaw working for a few moments. “It’s all too—convenient. The timing, his sudden return after all those years…”

“Whatever it is, she won’t get it,” Diana said firmly, cutting him off, and Zeus help her, she felt sorry for Amanda Waller – if the woman tried to cross her path, Diana wouldn’t hesitate. “Never.” She bit her lip, then exhaled slowly, remembering why she was here and what this was supposed to be about. “Bruce…” she started.

“Don’t,” he interjected, lifting his hand up.

“You are deflecting.”

His face closed off instantly.

“Don’t pity me. It was a kiss. I have never expected anything from you, not then and certainly not now.”

“I’m not--”

He gave her a look and Diana cut off, not wanting to lie but also unsure what the truth was anymore.

“It’s better that way. For the team. For everyone. All of this,” Bruce gestured vaguely around them, “it’s bigger than you and I, and if he’s the one…” He trailed off. This was nonsense and they both knew it, but she was not going to argue, knowing all too well that they could drown in what-ifs if they allowed themselves to. “Just be careful.”

“I’m sorry,” Diana said softly, for not feeling the same way or for admitting it, or for losing her temper minutes ago, she wasn’t sure, but hoped he knew.

For hurting him.

There was a heavy feeling between them, and maybe she wasn’t completely ready to forgive him for his words, for the things he had done, but there was fear behind his motives, not malice, she knew that much. She wasn’t sure if it made it better, but it didn’t make it worse.

“Don’t be. It’s me who should be sorry for… well, a lot of things.” Bruce took a breath and then chuckled wistfully. “Your Captain Trevor is one lucky man.”

She felt the tightness in her chest ease. “I would argue that I am.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Of course, you would.”

Her gaze darted toward the staircase, and then back to Bruce. “You really need to get some sleep.”

---

When Steve woke up again, the early morning fog that never failed to turn this place into a scene straight out of a gothic novel was gone and the sun that offered all the light but none of the warmth had crept over the treetops, flooding the bedroom with a soft glow.

He scrubbed his hand over his face and rolled onto his back, squinting around the room, half-expecting to see Diana at the desk or rummaging through the closet but not surprised when he found it empty. A pang of longing jolted through him. It had been a few hours, and he already missed her to the point of fierce ache in his chest.

There was a text from her on his phone, a quick good morning that she had sent an hour and a half ago, and Steve smiled, rereading a brief message several times. In his mind, he could easily see her typing it after she parked the car outside of the Museum or maybe in the elevator, and he hoped that she wished she was here instead as desperately as he did. He could think of a few ways for them to make good use of this morning.

Not that he expected her to cancel her life for him. It was not Diana’s fault, after all, that he had crashed back into her world with the grace of a bull in a china shop. Nor was it her problem that he would much rather spend all his free time between the sheets with her making up for the lost years than do, well, anything else.

Not that Steve had nothing to do, for that matter, he reminded himself.

In the past few days, he had managed to upgrade Bruce’s security system, which even Diana had a hard time getting around when they tested it and he learned - not without surprise - that she was quite spectacular at bypassing them when she needed to. He was also going to have a look at the firewall in the Batcave, as a part of his agreement with Bruce. God only knew what he had on those servers, including the half-fake file he had on Steve.

Better safe than sorry, Steve figured.

Which, come to think of it, could be a project for the morning.

Maybe.

Except that it meant going down to the Batcave, which Steve was more than a little reluctant to do. It was the one place in the house where Bruce seemed to gravitate to the most, and ever since he and Diana… well, fixed things, there was a not so discreet undercurrent of tension between the two of them.

Sometimes, he could practically hear an endless array of what-ifs running through Bruce’s head. All the things that Steve refused to venture into for fear of losing his mind.

He could still try, though. It wasn’t like they could keep this up forever.

At least that was the plan when he finally made his way to the kitchen only to find Victor fiddling with the coffee maker. Barry was sitting at the kitchen isle, slouched over a bowl of cereal. He glanced up from his breakfast and offered Steve a small wave.

“Morning,” Steve said, pausing for just a second, curious. “It’s Tuesday,” he pointed out.

“Your point being?” Barry asked, shoving another spoonful into his mouth, his words garbled as he chewed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

The young man shook his head. “They’re painting the lab. I’m allergic to that stuff.”

“Huh,” Steve blinked and turned to Victor.

“Don’t look at me,” Victor said. “I’m just hiding here. My dad’s been a bit overbearing lately, after what happened at the S.T.A.R. Labs.”

A faint frown creased Steve’s forehead. “Are you doing okay?” He asked, eyeing the Cyborg with apprehension.

He still wasn’t entirely sure how the healing worked for someone like Victor to begin with, but he looked fine, for a half-robot. Come to think of it, having a self-regenerating tissue was quite handy, perhaps. If nothing else, it was so much more convenient in their line of work than dealing with the vulnerable human bodies that could be easily incapacitated and took weeks to heal.

It fascinated Steve to no end. That, and the mechanics of it. Jokingly, he asked Diana the other night if he could take Victor apart to see how he worked and put him back together, and she laughed until she had tears in her eyes.

The memory made his mouth curve in a smile, slight colour rising on his cheeks. He didn’t mean it, of course. Not in a literal sense.

“Yeah.” Victor turned back to the coffee maker, his lips pressed together. “Considering my definition of okay.”

Steve nodded. “Acting up again?” He asked, his gaze darting toward the machine.

Vic nodded. “Alfred asked me to have a look. I think it’s the power cord because everything else seems to be fine, but I can’t…” he frowned.

“Diana seems to be the only one who has a way with that thing,” Steve said and pulled a carton of orange juice from the fridge. He could get coffee later. Or he could also ask Alfred to throw the evil thing out and get something less temperamental.

Vic chuckled. “Yeah, Di’s a woman of many talents.”

“Dude,” Barry hissed theatrically, snapping his head up, his eyes comically wide. His pointed at Steve. “That’s his girlfriend.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like--”

“I know, it’s okay.” Steve patted him on the metal shoulder, smiling. And added, “She really is.” He started toward the pantry but then stopped and turned to Victor again. “Can I ask you something?”

Vic shrugged without looking at him. “Sure.”

“Does it, uh… does it hurt?” Steve gestured vaguely toward the metal parts of him, too curious to shut up now that the words were out of his mouth.

This time, Victor glanced at him, his lips curving into a faint smile. “No. Not anymore.” At the counter, Barry was hanging on to every word, his breakfast forgotten. “I know it did, when I… you know, in the beginning. But I don’t remember much of it, it’s all blurred.” He shook his head, and Steve wondered if maybe it was for the best, a blessing in disguise.

Once, back in 1917, he got shot. A graze that was more of an inconvenience than an actual injury that left him with a scar on his left shoulder. He was sent to the field hospital to have it checked nonetheless, and that experience was like nothing he had ever had before. There were people there with their limbs torn off by the mines, people with half their faces melted off in the fire. The war was a nightmare, but that tent? That tent was hell. He had never seen this much pain in one place, so concentrated and all around them. It was like a living, breathing thing, taking up the inside of the canvas tent and suffocating them all.

Steve knew that few of those men lived, but those who did – well, he could bet his very soul that they would rather not remember the days of unbearable agony. He certainly didn’t want that for Victor.

“Right now, it’s odd,” Vic added. “It feels… okay, but strange. I do have the whole ‘phantom limb’ thing going on when my leg or my back would itch and it wouldn’t go away for hours, and it both the most and the least human thing about this whole…” He glanced down himself and then met Steve’s eyes. “Whatever this is. But no, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Man, this is the coolest thing ever,” Barry blurted out.

Victor looked at him. “Which part?”

“The—the ghost… whatever.” He lifted another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “All of it, really.”

“You think?” Victor asked flatly.

“It does sound fascinating,” Steve admitted.

“And he can play video games with his brain,” Barry added, for what felt like a hundredth time, to Steve’s memory.

“Yeah, that’s the biggest perk of being only half human,” Victor deadpanned.

“Exactly!” Barry agreed, not hearing the sarcasm in the Cyborg’s voice.

“I guess having built-in weaponry could come in handy now and then,” Steve offered before Vic had a chance to come up with a retort.

“Yeah,” Victor nodded, “and also this.”

He pressed his spread-out fingers to the side of the coffee maker, his brows pulling together in concentration as if he was hooking to the machine’s mainframe. And then he curled his hand into a fist and smacked the whole thing with it. It sputtered for a moment, and after a few seconds, the main console lit up and the air filled instantly with the bitter smell of percolating coffee.

“I could have done that,” Alfred noted, appearing in the kitchen in that exact moment.

“You’re welcome,” Victor grinned at him.

“Captain,” Alfred nodded.

“Alfred,” Steve echoed, amused.

He grabbed a cup from the holder but paused and looked over his shoulder, having to stifle a smile.

A speedster, a cyborg, a butler, bickering about something amongst themselves.

Somewhere in the house, an Atlantian was probably still snoring away – if there was one thing that Steve noticed about Arthur it was that he decidedly wasn’t a morning person. Not in the slightest. That, his distaste for the water jokes – the last time Barry suggested that he tried talking to the river cutting Gotham in half, the very one that was known for toxic waste floating in it, alongside with two-headed fish, he had to make a very fast escape because Arthur did not appreciate the humour. Or that time when Bruce asked him to part the water of the lake like in the Biblical story and Steve thought that the Batman was in for his first real flight.

And somehow along the way, while he was busy putting the broken pieces of his life back together and trying to find his heart again, they all managed to crawl under Steve’s skin without him even noticing and found home there.

In a few hours, he would see Diana again, and the mere thought of her made his heart spring into a gallop. He had missed her, but he didn’t realize how much until he didn’t have to anymore, and being back with her left him with a sense of vertigo, the ever-terrifying sensation of free fall that he didn’t want to break.

How could less than a thousand lifetimes of this ever be enough?

---

Their first date after the war, after Steve had healed and they returned to London, was a dinner at a small restaurant not far from his apartment that he booked on Etta’s recommendation because he had never stayed in the city long enough to discover any places more sophisticated than the bars frequented by Sameer and Charlie in between their missions. The ones that supplied cheap alcohol and trouble above all else. The ones that were not suited for a princess – he chose not to think of having taken her to one before (as Etta reminded him helpfully).

They were on a mission, he had told himself. It didn’t count. He was not trying to…to make an impression then. Mostly. Yet, he still yearned to fix it.

Hence, the dinner.

He remembered the red checkered tablecloths and flowers on each table and an actual menu with a selection of options - something that he was so unaccustomed to that he could barely bring himself to pick something. He remembered smiling like a moron because he didn’t seem to be able to ever stop, and Diana’s inquisitive gaze when he tried to come up with a sensible enough explanation as to why any of that was a big deal when they were already sharing not only their meals but also a bed since the day she had found him in that field outside of the airbase in Belgium – something that he couldn’t quite put a finger on himself. He remembered the awestruck and curious look on her face and thinking that they were doing it all wrong.

Okay, not wrong but the other way around, and it both amused and scared him, the newness of it and the lack of… rules, perhaps.

He took her to bed before he took her out for dinner – and no, sharing a bland stew by the campfire on the night they stayed with Chief didn’t count as one. He loved her before he truly knew her. He almost lost her before they had a chance at anything. But then again, nothing had ever been normal about them, so maybe it wasn’t much of a surprise that he struggled to find his footing. Maybe it was about making their own normal, or so he was thinking as he watched her watch him in the faint light of a dancing flame that night, a tender smile on her lips and a life full of wonder stretching infinitely before them.

But that was a long time ago, a whole century, to be exact. And even though Steve still remembered that night with striking clarity, they did manage to make their own rules that seemed to have worked much better than anything he had ever learned prior to meeting her, social rules be damned. Diana didn’t care much for appearances and gestures. She wanted him, she wanted to be loved, and those were the things that Steve could give her so easily and gladly that he was nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

And this, it turned out, had never changed.

“Okay, you have to be able to reach the handlebars comfortably,” Steve was telling her now, on a cold November afternoon nearly a hundred years later, as his hands curled over Diana’s, her skin warm against his palms.

He had spent the past half hour going in great detail over the anatomy of his motorcycle and showing her the switches and the clutches and the levers, making her repeat his words back to him so he knew that she got it right. It was slightly more nuanced than the car, and even though she preferred manual transmission to the automatic, as he had learned, and the principle here was very similar, he wanted to make sure--

“This is your idea of taking me out?” Diana asked, not without amusement.

Sitting behind her, his chest pressed against her back and the hair that escaped a loose bun on the nape of her neck whipping against his face, Steve let out a short laugh. “Don’t tell me this is not fun.” And then, unable to resist the temptation – because when was he ever? – he dipped his head and kissed the back of her neck.

“You’re being distracting,” she warned him, but there was a smile in her voice.

“I learn from the best,” he noted, and she laughed. “Okay, so…” He cleared his throat.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” she said, turning her head slightly to the side.

Truth be told, this morning when he promised her that he had a plan he didn’t exactly have one. He just thought that he would figure it out by lunch. It didn’t bother Steve one way or another that she seemed to be the one to always choose where they went – which was her bedroom more often than not (which was something that he had no business complaining about). However, there was a burning need simmering inside of him to do something for her, break out of their routine, however non-invasive it was. It had been so long since he could have her all to himself, even for a short while, that he craved it beyond comprehension.

Neither he, nor Diana walked through the past century without emerging on the other side with more than a little bit of cynicism clinging to their bodies like a second skin. He had expected it from himself, what with the first war effectively stripping him of the delusions he might have had when he was younger and the subsequent ones leaving him with a hard shell around his soul to protect it from further pain, but seeing it in her – albeit much less pronounced and bitter than his own – was still something that Steve wasn’t quite prepared for.

The fact alone didn’t bother so much as sadden him. There were many things that he had always wanted desperately to shield her from, and knowing that he had failed on all accounts felt like a punch to the gut that left him breathless.  

It was not his place to stop it, to get her not to give up – and god help him, he would never blame her if she had. Time was starting to take a toll on him as well. There were moments when he ached to know what his expiration date was, exactly. Queen Hippolyta made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t immortal like her daughter, and there were many a night when Steve lay awake scared of closing his eyes for fear of never opening them again because there were no rules to his life.

God only knew what Diana went through on her own, what demons were lurking in her mind, haunted by the memories of pain and loss.

There was nothing that Steve could do to fix it for her.

However, he could try to coax the old Diana out of her hiding. He had never expected her to remain the same, much like he knew that he would be a different person at the end of this journey – there was no point in fighting the inevitable. But their old selves, brittle and frayed at the edges, were still there somewhere, deep down, buried under a layer of disappointment and pain and fear.

And so when she came back to get him around lunch time, he gave her knee-length skirt a sceptical look and suggested that she changed into something more practical. Intrigued, Diana obliged without arguing. And then he drove them to the harbour, nearly empty this late in the season with the chilly wind blowing from the water and angry waves crashing against the stone and concrete below, and said that it was time for her to learn how to drive a motorcycle.

All things considered, it definitely wasn’t the worst idea he had ever come up with.

And there it was, a familiar glint of surprise in her eyes mixed with something that made Steve’s chest fold in on itself. A feeling that was most certainly worth dying for. He wanted—

He wanted so badly for her to never stop being surprised. He wanted her to never, ever stop wondering.

The air was cold, biting at their cheeks and noses even though Steve was more than a little certain that Diana only wore her jacket because it was a social convention, to stop strangers from gawking at her. A dozen rather puzzled seagulls were floating over the water coloured in gold by the sun that no longer bothered pretending that the winter wasn’t near, casting odd looks in their direction, and he felt his blood flowing in his veins like it hadn’t in a very long time.

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked as Diana fiddled with the controls under the dashboard.

“Yes,” she admitted, glancing at him. “A little.”

“Well, maybe you could drive us somewhere later,” he offered, and she smirked. “Ready?”

Diana nodded, and he caught a glimpse of another smile that took root in his chest, spreading all the way into the tips of his fingers and his toes before springing into a full bloom across his face and he was beaming like a lovesick idiot that he was. God, he was so crazy about her that his heart was about to burst.

Steve leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, sliding his arm around her – not to be thrown off the bike if she started it too abruptly, and also because he wanted to never stop touching her. He ran his hand across her stomach. “Okay, let’s do this.”

It took her a few attempts, but Diana got it right after a minute or two, waving him off with, “I got this, Steve,” as she brimmed with stubborn determination to figure things out on her own that he loved so.  

And then… and then there was swerving, and the wind tearing at the folds of their clothes and slapping wisps of her hair against his face. And laughter. And a time or two when Steve thought that they would fly through an embankment and straight into the frigid water - and if they did, it would probably be worth it. The bike stalled; Diana had to restart it half a dozen times before she got a hang of it, and when she came too close to end of the pier, he had to grab the handlebars over her hands and steer them back to safety.

He could feel her excitement flowing in his own veins like it belonged there.

And suddenly, none of this felt like a bad idea anymore.

The past few days felt surreal, too good to be true even. It was almost like someone climbed into his head and pulled everything he had dreamt of and prayed for and made it real, and even better than anything he could ever have imagined.

However, Steve wasn’t delusional about this honeymoon phase lasting forever. Soon enough, their lives would have to fall back into some sort of rhythm. Diana had a job, and he had one hell of a task cut out for him if he wanted to work with the League. Waller’s radio silence bothered him more than he was willing to let on and he itched to find out what caused it. He needed to know what they were up against before it was too late, and that thought was a constant presence in the back of his mind.

But it wasn’t ending today, and hopefully not tomorrow; and right now, neither of them needed to think about any of that. Not for a little while.

“I gotta admit, you weren’t half bad,” he said when the sun started to inch toward the horizon and the shadows around them began to grow longer and Diana finally brought his bike to a stop with a jerk.

“Not half bad?” She echoed, incredulous and mock-insulted, as Steve propped it on a kickstand and slid off, missing the close contact with her instantly.

She climbed off too and stepped to him, pulling him to her by the lapels of his jacket. Steve didn’t resist, his lips stretching into a smile the moment before they met hers.

“You were good,” he murmured against her mouth, drawing her closer to him by her hips.

One of her hands slid up his chest and curled around the back of his neck, her body alive and languid against his. He could taste the thrill of the past few hours on her tongue, feel it in the way her fingers slid into his hair as she kissed him.

“A natural,” Steve added, smiling.  

Diana hummed in agreement and then stepped back. She reached for his hand and weaved her fingers through his. They walked toward the end of the pier, listening to the cries of seagulls nearly swallowed by the furious roar of the water and the singing of the wind. Before them, the ocean was stretching endlessly all the way to the places somewhere out of their reach.

Diana paused before the railing and peered into the distance, longing for something that she couldn’t quite put into words building up inside of her. Steve could feel it thrumming in her blood.

He let go of her hand and moved to wrap his arms around her from behind. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head before resting his cheek against her temple, his gaze following hers. The wind was ferocious here, but the view was breathtaking – fierce and powerful, the ocean smelling of salt and seaweed and places they couldn’t see. He could certainly understand the appeal even if they were a few seconds away from being blown away.

“You were right,” Diana said after a few moments. She ran her hand along the sleeve of his jacket until her fingers reached his wrist, curling around it, her touch soothingly warm. “It was fun.”

Steve chuckled. “Hey, I promised you a good time.”

“You always do, and you always deliver,” she responded matter-of-factly, and his skin flushed at the implication she didn’t even bother to hide.

The Diana he knew back in the day was far less proficient in suggestive banter, but Steve had to admit that he rather enjoyed it now, even if half the time it ended with his heart racing for dear life and him struggling for words, a quick-thinking and articulate spy that he was.

Much to Diana’s immense amusement.

“You know, we could have just stayed in your bedroom,” he pointed out, and she laughed, the warmth of it making his very soul unfurl in his chest. For a while, they just stood there, watching the seagulls diving toward the water and soaring back into the sky as he held her close, her body nestled neatly into the circle of his arms and his heart hammering against her shoulder blades. “Do you miss it?” Steve asked after a few minutes. “Themyscira?”

The name of the island still rolled with difficulty from his tongue. Their time spent there remained one of his most cherished memories – not so much the heavenly island as the look on Diana’s face when she was there, the easiness to her, her body language relaxed and at ease. There was nothing there to warrant any worry, never had been. And yet Steve couldn’t help but wonder now and then how their lives might have turned out if they never went there at all.

A pang of shame shot through him, hot and burning, making him want to claw it from under his skin. The island was Diana’s home and she loved it, and she longed for it even when she didn’t want to admit it. He had no right to take it away from her. Yet, if his conversation with the Queen never happened—

A sigh flowed from his chest. He wouldn’t have to run away from something he never knew existed.

“I do,” Diana said after a moment. “But I know they are well. It is enough.”

She turned to rest her forehead against his cheek, and Steve reached absently to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Do you ever wish that we never went there?” She asked as if reading his mind.

“No,” Steve responded, surprised that he actually meant it. “I wish that some things had turned out differently. I wish that your mother was wrong.” He took a breath. “But no, I never wished that we didn’t go. You missed them, and I wanted answers.”

Be careful what you wish for, he thought. Most of the things he knew about the Greeks and their mythology was from Diana, and the awful irony of opening his own Pandora’s Box through her wasn’t lost on him. Speak of unexpected.

“I did,” she admitted, her finger circling absently over the juts of his knuckles. “But I wanted you more.”

He stayed quiet for a while, watching the water, inhaling the ocean. Diana had always been drawn to it for as long as he could remember, the wistfulness in her gaze whenever she would look at the waves crashing against the beach never escaping his attention.  

I wanted you more.

“Are you cold?” Steve asked softly, tightening his grip on her.

“No,” Diana shook her head, her hair brushing against his face.

He smiled. “Right. A goddess. So above our trivial human concerns.”

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t like you holding me,” she told him.

“You know, I…” Steve started and faltered. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his blood pounding fast in his ears. He could say anything now and it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t know the difference. Still, when he regained his ability to speak, he went for the truth, “I saw you once. In Paris, at the Louvre. About a decade and a half ago.”

His heart was thudding in earnest by the time he fell silent to the point of him feeling dizzy.

Diana stayed quiet, and a hot wave of panic rose inside of him, making him want momentarily to turn back the time and swallow the words before they came out of his mind. With her, he always was either fumbling for words, or spilling his soul without thinking twice, and he wasn’t certain which one was more frightening.

They never taught him that. When they were schooling him to be a spy, no one ever told him that there was nothing as disarming and terrifying as loving someone with everything that he was.

“I know,” Diana said so softly that he almost missed it. “I saw you, too.”

Steve’s brows pulled together and he glanced down at her, wanting desperately to read her face but she remained staring straight ahead.

“You—you did?” He asked.

Surely, he had to have heard her wrong.

“It was April and we had just opened a new exhibition the previous week. You were standing in front of a Monet painting and looking at it like you were trying to find the answers in it unknown to mankind since the creation of the universe,” she said quietly. “And I thought… for a moment, I thought that you came back for me.”

Steve felt his body go rigid, and when he spoke, his voice came out hoarse and raw.

“Diana…”

“I didn’t think that it was really you,” she admitted, her fingers running absently over the back of his hand.

“You didn’t?” He echoed.

Diana shook her head. “I used to see you often after you left. I’d notice a man with the same haircut or hear someone speak in your accent, and think…”

Her voice caught, and she trailed off. Steve pressed his lips to her temple. She turned in the circle of his arms, her hands snaking under his unzipped jacket to rest on his waist. She might not have felt the cold the way he did, but her cheeks were pink from the wind, and cool to the touch when he reached to loop a piece of hair around her ear.

It fell right back across her face moments later.

“I went to an art show in Geneva once, shortly after I moved back to Paris,” she continued, taking his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers. Her eyes were watching his thumb running over her knuckles. “There was a father with a young girl, his daughter, on the plaza in front of the gallery. She ran over to him and he caught her in his arms and put her on his shoulders. She was laughing the whole time. From the back, he looked so much like you that I was certain…” Her other hand twitched on his side. “Until he turned around, I thought it was you.”

Steve could see it in his mind – a sun-bathed square and the light reflecting off the windows, flocks of bold pigeons and toddlers chasing after them between congregations of tourists with cameras. And amidst them all, a woman frozen to a spot. He recalled the way he felt when he saw Bruce kiss her at the benefit and it was akin having someone stab him in the heart and twist the knife for good measure.

Whatever that encounter felt like for Diana, it couldn’t have felt good.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, bowing his head closer to hers until their faces were almost touching.

“I hoped that it was you, and prayed that it wasn’t,” she said, her gaze drawn back to the waves, and for once, Steve wished that he couldn’t see her expression. The anguish chasing across her features was unbearable. “That day, I was so jealous I couldn’t recognize myself. More than I’ve ever been before.” Her lips twitched humourlessly. “Which is ironic, considering the history of my people.”

“And here I was thinking that you were above something that mundane,” Steve muttered.

Diana turned to him, the concerned lines around her eyes smoothing out, her lips curving into a proper smile.

“You’d think so, but in reality, no one feels deeper or more passionately than gods.” She sighed. “I knew that it wasn’t you when that man turned around, but before then, I stood there and watched them. And I thought that there was nothing that I wanted more than for you to be happy. But even more than that, I wanted you to be happy with me.”

Steve took in a shuddered breath and looked up from the knot of their hands. He found her gaze.

“I’m happy with you, Diana,” he said quietly, his voice earnest. “I’ve never been happier than when I am with you. Then. Now. A million years from this moment.”

It was silly thing to say. Silly and sentimental and like it came straight from one of those tacky greeting cards that people gave to each other because their own words didn’t seem enough. The words that, if someone else said them, would have grated on his own ears. The words that, if said in front of Sammy and his friends, would have made him a laughing stock for weeks on end. Steve didn’t care. He wanted to be tacky and sentimental, he wanted to sound like a cliché. If that was how he felt, then so be it.

Diana’s features softened and a teasing comment he half-expected never came.

“I tried to find you, in the 1960’s, after Etta passed away,” she said after a moment. “I thought you’d come to her funeral, and when you didn’t, I tried…”

Steve grimaced a little. “I’m pretty damn good at hiding.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I—” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know about Etta until it was too late.” The memory was bitter and painful, aching still in his chest. Of all the things he would never forgive himself for, losing track of the people he loved was one of his biggest regrets. “I spoke with her daughter, about a month after…” He shook his head. “I went to say goodbye to Charlie, though. You should have seen how mad he was at me for—” his lips tugged upwards at the corners at the memory. “Well, for losing you.”

Diana let out a small laugh. “I can imagine. Sameer was just as bad.” She ran her hand back and forth along his side, her touch warm even through his shirt. “I saw him in Paris a few times, and the man had a foul mouth on as many languages as I could count.”

“All about me?” Steve chuckled.

Diana’s eyebrow arched. “Of course.”

“I went to his show once, when he was touring in Belgium,” Steve confessed. “He beat me with a bouquet that he received from one of his devoted admirers.” She laughed again. “Said it was a much better use for it. And called me names, too, that I’m not going to repeat in the presence of a lady, and told me to go find you.” He let out a breath. “I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it.”

“You didn’t,” she murmured, lifting their hands up to her mouth and pressing a kiss to his fingers. “You were hurting.” The wind picked up and then died down just as suddenly, and odd calm settling over them. “Although I still wish you’d listened to him.”

Steve did, too. Wished he’d listened to Etta when he called him a moron and some other unflattering words. Wished he’d listened to Sammy when he told Steve to get his ‘sorry ass back to Paris and stop being an idiot’ – direct quote. Wished he’d listened to Charlie whose lungs were collapsing the last time they spoke and who still managed to make Steve feel like he was the one who had drawn the short straw. The latter probably should have clued him in, but the wound was still raw and bleeding, and he chose to let it scar rather than poke at it.

“I miss them,” he said.

“I miss them, too,” Diana sighed.

They spoke of their friends some more, trading old stories and filling in the gaps that each of them had. Steve never met Sameer’s grandkids, and Diana knew little to nothing about Charlie who seemed to be the most adamant of them all to cut the ties with the past for fear of falling into a pit of despair that the war had dragged him into all over again. He missed Etta terribly, but keeping an open communication was a tempting getaway to coming back and he was scared. Diana did, though. She never forgot, and he gave her a story from before they met for each one that she had from after he had left.  

“Does the League ever remind you of them?” Steve asked when they both fell silent, realizing that he was practically shaking from the chill by that point, his toes numb cold stones in his boots.

“Sometimes,” she smiled. “I think the League is far less reckless than your boys.”

Amused, he shook his head. “I beg to differ.” And added, “I think that if they all met, they’d have liked each other.”

She let out a small laugh. “They would have,” she agreed, leaning into him.

“Do you remember Veld?” He asked after a moment, his voice low. “The night after the liberation? Dancing?”

She tilted her head, curious. “Yes. Of course.”

“Remember how I told you that I didn’t know what life without the war was like?” She didn’t say anything, but her eyes were flicking between his, waiting for him to continue. “I still don’t think I do. Probably never have.”

Diana let go of his hand, her gaze searching his, and it was as hard for Steve to look at her now as it was when she had first asked that question and he came up empty.

She put her hands on either side of his face, and her mouth formed into a small smile that made something snap inside of him.

“I love you,” she said quietly, her right thumb running over his cheekbone. “I will always love you.”

His gaze dropped from her eyes down to her mouth and the temptation was too strong to resist. He leaned forward and kissed her, her lips warm against his. She pulled him to her, weaving her arms around his neck and allowing his hands so slip underneath her jacket and around her waist, palms roaming over her back, her shoulder-blades, everywhere he wanted them to be, drawing her closer to his chest until he could feel her heartbeat as clear as his own.

She gasped against his mouth when one of his hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, startled by the cold of his touch to her skin. A low groan formed in the back of her throat, her lips parting against his and sending a shiver of a different kind down Steve’s body. He didn’t hesitate, kissing her the way he wanted to kiss her every moment of every day that they were apart, frantic and almost panicky, needing to put into his touch everything he knew not how to express with words.

Diana was the one to break the kiss, pulling back a little, her eyes dazed and dark with want when they found his, knocking what little air Steve still had left in his lungs out of him. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving against his, and although it had never been about pride with them, he was stupidly pleased to know that even after all this time he was still able to kiss her senseless, quite literally so.

“Take me back home, Steve,” she whispered, and it came out as a demand, her voice hoarse, her exhales puffing out in small clouds between them.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I thought you were hungry,” he reminded her, his fingers running back and forth along the base of her spine beneath her shirt.

Diana’s hand flexed, curling around a fistful of his shirt under his jacket.

“I am.”

---

Funny how some mistakes were meant to keep biting one in the ass for as long as one lived, apparently.

There wasn’t a day when Amanda Waller didn’t regret forming Suicide Squad – she got nothing out of it and lost more than she wanted to admit – and yet it was the one thing that somehow seemed to haunt her no matter how much she tried to put it behind her.

If she knew to set her attention on Justice League earlier, a lot of things could have gone very differently, yet here she was, still trying to clean up the mess in Midcity while dodging everything else coming her way and seeing no way out.

And on top of that, she had managed to grossly miscalculate her steps with the League as well, which felt like a cherry on top of the crap cake of the situation she was in. When she first found the photograph and discovered that Steve Trevor was alive, he was meant to be her trump card. Instead, she was left with nothing to bargain with. Bringing him in was a mistake. The one that she couldn’t fix now.

There had been nothing in his scant file on his personal relationship with Wonder Woman, and as far as Waller was concerned, Diana Prince had never been in a romantic relationship at all. She should have known better.

At the time, Waller was going for half-gratitude from a certain demi-goddess in hopes of getting in her good graces, and half-shock to shake up the seemingly established peace in the League. God knew, she needed to have an upper hand with them for once, and briefly, Bruce Wayne’s reaction was almost worth it. Her own superiors had been breathing down her neck for months now, urging her to gain control over half a dozen people who could tear this city apart without breaking a sweat with no consequences whatsoever and, if nothing else, her continuous failures in that regard were starting to drive her up the wall.

Yet, what she ended up with was rejection and animosity, driving her further away from her goal than she had ever been. And she needed to fix it ASAP. There was only so much her superiors would put up with before they decided to get someone else involved, someone who, in their opinion, might be better suited for the task, but Amanda Waller had not spent several decades of her life doing her damned best to keep peace here to simply hand over her victories to anyone else and walk away.

The problem was, she was running out of time.

Ice cubes clinked softly in her glass when Waller lifted it to her lips and took a small sip, aware of the burning trail the alcohol would leave in her throat. It was almost midnight and the hallways outside of her office had been quiet for hours. She couldn’t bring herself to leave though, not yet. She needed to find a way to get Steve Trevor to cooperate – of them all, she suspected, he was the only one without a personal grudge against her. Or, at the very least, it was not supposed to be a big one. She needed to get him on her side, find a way to cooperate with him. If her intel on the nature of his relationship with Wonder Woman was correct – and she suspected that it was, based on both of their reactions on the day Waller brought him in – then he was her best hope.

And if that failed… Well, there should be a way to make him compliant, she figured. They did, after all, had an agreement, which essentially made him a property of the Government of the United States, but she didn’t want to use it against him unless she absolutely had to. Which, truth be told, was more likely to happen than not.

Waller chose not to think of how his girlfriend might take it yet.

A knock on the door gave her a start, making her hand jerk so that a few drops of an ember liquid spilled on the papers spread out in front of her.

“Yes?” Waller snapped, frowning at the slight nervous uptilt in her voice.

The door opened a crack and a tech whose name she never bothered to learn poked his head into her office. “Director?” He adjusted the glasses that kept sliding low on his nose.

“Yes?” She repeated coolly.

“We have a problem.”

She almost laughed at that. Of course, they did. When was the last time they didn’t? It only seemed like a logical ending to her already shitty day. She stifled it though, her frown deepening momentarily.

“What is it?” She demanded when the man didn’t say anything else.

He crossed the room, walking over to her desk and the extended his clenched fist to her and opened it. On the palm of his hand were a few small pieces that looked like—

Waller pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Bugs,” she muttered.

The man cleared his throat. “These were found on the first level. We are scanning the whole building now.”

“How?” She snapped, eyes drilling into a tech who seemingly shrunk under her glare.

“We are checking the security footage—” he started.

“Nobody leaves until the building has been cleared,” Waller stopped him.

He nodded. “Yes, Director.”

When the door closed behind him, Waller leaned back in her chair and let a long breath through her nose, trying to clam blind rage rising inside of her.

“Bruce Wayne.”

---

“Thank you.”

Perched on the kitchen counter and wearing nothing but her panties and Steve’s button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up half to her elbows, Diana watched him rummage expertly through the freezer, searching for the stash of ice-cream that she knew Alfred always kept for her visits.

Her gaze followed the defined lines of his arms, the taut muscles of his back, lingering on the dimples that disappeared into the waistline of his jeans riding low on his hips. She bit her lip, trying to swallow a smile, and vowed silently to try and get him to be shirtless – or, better yet, naked – more often. Why on Earth was he even allowed to cover a body like this was beyond her.

She had always found Steve attractive but missing him somehow intensified it to a point where she could barely keep her hands off of him. Their relationship had never been about physicality, per se. Their connection running deeper than just sex. Diana was in love with him, she cared about him in a way she had never cared about anyone else. She missed him achingly whenever they were apart even for a brief period of time. However, it didn’t hurt that she found him handsome as well, reminding her of the pictures of ancient gods from the books that filled row upon row of shelves in the library on Themyscira. Lean muscles and easy grace.

And right now, she certainly enjoyed it.

Steve glanced up at her, his eyebrow quirked and his face puzzled. His hair was tousled comically after the past few hours that they had spent reminding one another unapologetically and a with as much fervour as they could muster just how really and truly well they fit in every sense Diana could think of.

“Huh?”

“For today,” she clarified, her hands gripping the edge of the counter, her legs crossed at the ankles. “I don’t believe I said this. I should have.”

He grinned at her. “I believe you did.”

“Not in words,” Diana pointed out, her head tilted ever so slightly.

“Ah-ha!” Victorious, he pulled a pint of ice-cream from the back of the freezer – Alfred’s attempt to keep the other members of the League from so much as looking at it, which Diana found amusing to no end, considering that they all knew better than to even try. “You were very convincing in other ways,” Steve promised, moving toward her.

It was past midnight, the house around them dark and quiet. For fear of disturbing anyone else, they chose to forgo turning on the overhead light, sticking instead to a smaller lamp over the stove that cast a warm glow around them while the corners of the kitchen remained drowned in shadows. Hunger, as it turned out, was a force to be reckoned with, and while skipping dinner in favour of far more exciting activities wasn’t nowhere near Diana’s list of regrets, a late-night snack seldom was a bad idea.

Steve stopped in front of her, his elbow brushing against her leg, and just like that the familiar warmth stirred in her belly as it often did even at the small touches that punctuated their routines. It amused Diana beyond measure that he would barely even look at her in the presence of the other members of the League because it was ‘unprofessional’ to be ‘personal’ in front of them, which, consequently, only made her want to put her hands all over him even more.

But there was no one else here now, Alfred and the rest of them fast asleep, and when Steve was within her reach, she draped her arms around her neck and reeled him closer, watching his eyes widen as she did so.

He was a damn good spy, and even though she might have been a little biased in her assessment, Diana was certain that she had never met anyone better. With or without her, he still singlehandedly obtained the intel to stop the Great War. With or without her, she knew that he would still go against the orders of his superiors to save the lives of innocent people. With or without her, she was sure, he would have still climbed into that airplane. He wasn’t just good. He was excellent.

And yet, there was something intoxicating in knowing that he could barely ever hide his feelings when it came to her, in seeing the desire in his eyes even when he didn’t mean for it to show.

“Oh, other ways,” Diana echoed. “Yes, of course.”

“I like other ways,” he promised to her. “I like them a lot.”

“Good to know,” she murmured, touching her mouth to his, reminded pleasantly of the moment several hours ago when he peeled her clothes off her body only to reveal the same black set underneath them that she wore on the night they went to Metropolis, thin lace clinging so close to her skin that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other one began.

Diana watched him stare at her, slack-jawed and more than a little desperate, drinking her up as his eyes moved down her body and then back up, his rather undignified gaping making her want him even more. His need was so raw she could feel it in her core. And she promised to herself to wear something like that more often. Every day, if she could. If only to have Steve look at her the way he did tonight. She was quite adamant to make it happen for as long as he would let her.

“So, about that story that I was trying to tell you when we were so rudely interrupted,” he started, drawing away from her. One hand still resting on her hip, Steve pulled open a cutlery drawer near her left thigh, fumbling for cutlery.

“You mean, when our clothes fell off?” She teased, one of her arms still slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, an interruption is an interruption,” Steve brandished a spoon in her direction, and Diana laughed. “And they didn’t just… fall off.”

“Yes, I remember you being very diligent with removing those that didn’t,” she told him with as much seriousness as she could muster.

“God,” Steve exhaled and rubbed his eyes. “Don’t,” he said, pointing at her. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” Diana asked innocently, her fingers running absently along the base of his neck.

“You know what,” he grumbled.

She raised her hands up, biting her lip so she wouldn’t burst out laughing. She took a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please, keep going.”

He regarded her suspiciously, but then only shook his head.

I have never loved him more, she thought, watching him, her lips pressed together around a smile.  

“So, a week after I get deployed and come to London, I go to this bar around the corner,” Steve continued from the moment where they had left off when something far more appealing became a priority. “The kind of place where you go looking for trouble.”

He twisted the lid off the ice-cream tub.

“Were you looking for trouble?” Diana asked, curious.

He chuckled. “No, I was looking for a drink and didn’t know any better.” He passed another spoon to her. “So, I walk in, and there’s a brawl over… At the time, I had no idea what it was over, to be honest, but it was messy and loud, and apparently it was all a fault of one particular man who no one could find.” He let out a short laugh. “You know why? Because he was hiding under a woman’s skirt.”  

A spoon reaching for ice-cream, she paused and looked at him. “You’re joking.”

“Honest to god truth.”

She blinked, a mental image wild in her mind, and then laughed, having to clasp her hand over her mouth not to wake anyone up.

“And that is how you met Sameer?” She asked.

Steve smirked and offered her a half-shrug. “And that is how I met Sameer. The bravest man I’ve ever known was hiding under a skirt. And doing damn fine down there.”

She was shaking her head now. “Lucky Sammy.”

“Poor woman,” he corrected. “She turned out being the owner’s wife, and he was not pleased with any of that. Not the fight and certainly not a strange man getting closely acquainted with his wife’s undergarments.”

“I can’t believe it,” she muttered.

Diana knew about their first mission together, knew the story of them meeting Chief, and a million small moments in-between, but this… How Steve failed to mention something this impossibly entertaining was beyond her.

“As it turned out, I was the only person there not after his head,” Steve added, trying to swallow back his own laughter. “Sammy lost a game of cards and couldn’t pay up, and talking his way out of it didn’t work out, so…”

“What happened?”

“I had to grab him and run, or they’d probably come for his blood.” There was fondness in his voice that made Diana’s chest constrict. “We’d been inseparable since.”

He had to be feeling it too, she was thinking now. The dread and exhaustion of watching everyone he loved die. A slight crack in his voice when he mentioned their names, the wistfulness in his gaze. She saw them too for they reflected her own.

“You do know how to find trouble, Steve,” she noted nonetheless, her heart full and her chest tight with affection.

He grinned at her. “You should know.”

Diana hummed, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was not going to argue, all things considered.

“This is delicious,” she said, taking a bite of ice-cream.

Heavens bless Alfred for remembering about her weakness. He didn’t have to, and she would never have asked – not at Bruce’s home where he already allowed his comfort to be disturbed for the sake of the League. Which only deepened her gratitude towards the older man.

“I’m glad you’re so easy to please,” Steve noted.  

Her eyebrow arched. “Am I, now?”

He scooped some ice-cream with his spoon and lifted it up to her lips. She licked it clean without breaking the eye contact as she watched his smile slip and his eyes turn dark. Her stomach tightened, heat starting to simmer in her veins. His hand that still rested on her side flexed, fingers digging into her skin through the thin cotton of the shirt she was wearing.  

Diana’s hand curled over the side of his neck. She uncrossed her ankles and pulled him to her until he was standing between her parted knees. The warmth of his mouth against her cold tongue sent a shiver down her spine, a low sound of appreciation rising in the back of her throat. He tasted of vanilla and caramel and want, and she was drunk on it, on the feeling of him, on the heat of his body under the palms of her hands.

“You are trouble, angel,” Steve murmured.

“Sorry,” she breathed.  

“You’re not.”

She smiled against his lips. “Not really, I’m not.”

His hands clenched the fabric of her shirt, tugging her close, and Diana thought absently that this was exactly how they ended up without any dinner in the first place. Or lunch, if she recalled correctly. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Steve Trevor had turned entirely into her sole sustenance, and she was in no hurry to have it any other way.

Her hand closed over his jaw, tilting his face up, her body responding to his touch on its own volition.

“Diana…” he started, a warning in his voice, when she buried her fingers in his hair, bowing down to kiss him properly.

“There’s no one here--”

“Ohmigod!”

A yelp caused Steve to jerk away from her so fast that they both nearly tumbled down to the floor, his hand flailing to grab the marble counter to catch his balance. His blood flowing in earnest and his heart thudding in a panicked frenzy, he turned to the door to find Barry standing there, his mouth agape.

He was wearing flannel pajama bottoms with a yellow duck print and a loose Lord Of The Rings t-shirt, a pair of massive headphones sitting on his head like a perfect finishing touch. His eyes were cartoonishly wide as his gaze slid over Steve’s bare chest and an endless expanse of Diana’s legs peeking from under the hem of the shirt that she barely bothered to button properly, at which point his face turned scarlet red.

He looked away quickly. “Oh my god,” he repeated. “I’m so sorry.”  

“Barry,” Diana started, her smile sympathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I didn’t hear you.” He yanked the headphones off, and by now even the tips of his ears were crimson. “I—I didn’t think anyone was here, this late.”

“Really… sorry about that,” Steve grimaced.

“No, no, it’s cool.” Barry’s gaze darted for a second toward them, and then snapped away just as fast. “I was just—I thought I’d have a snack, because there’s no such thing as a bad time for a snack.” He paused, looking mortified, “Except there is, apparently. And it’s not good for you, anyway. I think. Eating late, that is. So….”

“It’s not—” Steve looked toward Diana’s his eyes pleading. “We were just--”

“Never mind,” Barry interjected, nodding more to himself than for their benefit. “I’m just gonna…” He started toward the balcony, then stopped abruptly. “Wrong way.” Steve had never seen anyone put this much effort into avoiding looking at something. The Flash turned on his heel. “I’ll see you later.”

“Barry,” Diana tried again, her voice kind, but he was already gone in a whoosh of wind that left a faint smell of ozone and a few sparks of electric discharge behind.

Steve let out a sharp breath and scrubbed his hands over his face, pushing his fingers into his hair. His shoulders slumped forward.

“I’ll go talk to him,” he said.

Diana’s hand curled over his arm. She shook her head, finally tearing her gaze away from the dark doorway and turning to Steve. “I don’t think he’s going to talk to you now. Better give him some space, perhaps.”

A flash of doubt rippled across his face as he debated her words, and for a moment, she thought that he was going to argue, but then he stepped back toward her. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching her features soften.

“Do you think we broke him?” He asked, his voice miserable and his face matching Barry’s red suit.

“He’ll be fine,” Diana promised, shaking her head a little and trying very, very hard not to laugh. “I’ll talk to him in the morning.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Steve sighed.

Her eyebrow quirked. “Because you’re a man?”

His lips twitched a little. “Because he has a hero-worship thing going on for you,” he explained. “He probably won’t even hear a word you’ll say. He’ll just… stare.”

She rolled her eyes a little. “That is not true.”

“Just—just trust me on this,” he shook his head, feeling her hand rest on the nape of his neck.

“It’s not like he doesn’t know about those things,” Diana whispered, scratching her nails through his hair.

A strangled sound formed in the back of Steve’s throat. “Oh God….”

“He has a girlfriend…” She continued, then paused and corrected herself, “A lady friend. Iris. He is not very fond of discussing his personal life.”

“And now he is all too aware about ours. Besides, it’s not the same,” Steve muttered, wincing. “Hell, it’s like walking in on your parents--” He stopped abruptly and dropped his forehead on her shoulder with a groan. Another mental image that he didn’t need. “Not that we’re his…” he added, mortified. “I need to stop talking now.”

He scrunched his face and Diana rubbed a soothing hand over his back.

“We weren’t doing anything,” she pointed out.

“We were,” he protested. “Sort of.”

“It was only a kiss.”

“I don’t think it matters,” he said, his voice muffled and pained.

Diana pressed her lips to the crown of his head.

“Steve.”

He looked up at her, his cheeks still flushed.

“I think we need take this party back to your room,” he offered. “Just to be safe. In case someone else wakes up to get a glass of water, or… I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes.

She bit her lip, studying him for a few moments and he felt his stomach drop.

“What?” He asked, lowering his hand.

Diana’s eyes flicked between his.

“I have to go back to Paris at the end of the week,” she said.

He blinked, momentarily confused by the sudden change of subject. Weren’t they just about to discuss some sort of obligatory therapy for the Flash? He could even think of a few ways to foot the bill to Bruce.

Her words sunk in slowly.

Paris.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t see it coming.

Diana had spent every morning this past week going through her emails and making phone calls and arranging video chats, digging through electronic catalogues that her assistant kept sending her – damn him – and signing forms and permits and other things that Steve didn’t entirely understand. She had a whole life to go back to.

The only problem was that Paris was far away from Gotham. Very far away, in fact.

Was she even coming back?

For a moment, he imagined being here without her, in this house that looked like an aquarium – according to Barry, who appeared to have strong opinion about glass walls – having to endure heavy silences that tended to hang between him and Bruce Wayne.

The prospect was dreadful.

Maybe he should just leave, too. Find a place in the city--

For one unbearable moment, Steve remembered with startling accuracy what waking up without her for the past several decades had been like, his chest aching from missing her already.

“There is an exhibition coming up,” Diana added, watching him, and he tried not to let his disappointment show, knowing that he was failing spectacularly. “Pierre would have a heart attack if I’m not there. And some other things that I need to take care of, on top of that. Like the recovered painting. I requested for it to be sent to the Louvre for proper assessment before we return it where it belongs.” Her fingers smoothed down his hair before her hands came to rest on his cheeks, framing his face. “And I also thought that maybe you and I could have some alone time.”

Steve stared at her. “Alone time?” He repeated dumbly.

Her gaze darted toward the dark hallway. “I love them, but it can be a little hectic here, no?” He nodded absently, his eyes never leaving her face. Diana turned to him. She traced the line of his jaw with her thumb. “Would you like to come with me?”

“To Paris?” He clarified.

She smiled. “I mean, you don’t have to--”

“Would you want that?” He interjected before she went any further. She could have asked him to move to Neptune, and he would have followed her gladly and without a single question asked.  “Would you want me to go with you?”

Diana’s smile widened, blossoming into something entirely majestic.

She nodded. “I would want that very much.”

To be continued.... 

[glassandmetalwings]

So. Sunday. Pokémon Community Day. Specifically, Beldum day.

Under cut for length and also triggers. Trigger warnings for health junk, mentions of hospitals and mentions of death, self harm, and suicide (none of which have happened but are relevant). Plus vague mentions of Dad’s general bigotry.

I gave Dad a heads up for it. On Tuesday/Wednesday (I can’t remember which), and then again on Friday. And on Friday, he even asked questions about it, so it wasn’t in one ear and out the other.

Friday night, I found out Dad had been planning to go up to the cabin with Mom. He never mentioned this to me. Apparently Mom thought he planned to go up Monday, but he had decided they were going up Sunday instead. And Mom expressed concern, which he got mad at her over. Because he hasn’t been up to the cabin since like February and it needs to be winterized or something, but clearly he has to be involved.

For those who don’t know/have forgotten, Dad’s not in the best shape. Last December he went out to LA for a surgery because he had a partially paralyzed diaphragm that was severely impacting his breathing, had rotator cuff surgery in late June, basically a heart attack in mid/late July (at which point we discovered he’s got a clot in a major artery, right over where he had a triple stint placed a decade ago for a 98% blockage), and THEN recently had a double catheter operation to try to loosen the clot.

It didn’t work. At all. So he’ll soon be going in for single-vessel bypass. Long story short, he has been warned several times that he probably should not be going up to altitude, much less doing any sort of physical work at altitude.

Which is why Mom wanted to make the cabin trip a one-day thing on Monday. But Dad got mad about her being worried about his health and firmly decided they were going Sunday.

That night, as I struggled to sleep, I realized that Dad would want to leave well before Community Day started, depriving Mom of it (because there was no way I was going up to the cabin with them). I swear that Dad comes up with something every. Single. Community Day.

Scratch that. Whenever we have plans that involve something that would make my day, Dad comes up with some bs that, even if I do get to do the thing, I end up feeling guilty about doing it.

But I mentioned it (angrily) to Mom, and she reminded Dad, and he ended up saying that they would go after our event ended. Which should have been fine, because he was still getting an extra night up there.

Meanwhile, Mom and I secretly make plans of what to do in case an emergency comes up with Dad going to altitude. Namely, to save time for her, she’d send me a text with an emoji so I would know they were going to the hospital and I should alert my sisters and drive up.

There’s some other stuff that happened on Saturday, namely relating to Dad not doing basic things like alerting Mom when she needed to come in (she asked him to tell her after ten minutes of working outside so that she could make dinner, but then didn’t, and she was too engaged in cleaning up leaves and I didn’t want to deal with grouchy, hungry Dad, so I cooked instead despite being completely drained and distracted) and Mom being too stubborn to take care of herself (woman is developing scoliosis and, despite me asking her to tell me when she was going outside to do more leaves after dinner so I could help her, she spends another hour and a half doing it by herself because she doesn’t want to distract me from my costuming, and only gives up because I come out to help her without shoes or gardening gloves because it’s getting dark and she’s hurting herself). But anyways, Sunday.

We’re gonna go get MDs ice cream beforehand (for Pokémon toys), we’ll meet up with Erin, we’ll all catch some Beldum...it will be great, right? We agree to take two cars because we know Dad will probably get antsy and call wanting to leave, so that I can stay and finish up withe Erin but she’ll get in at least half of the Community Day.

Except, as we are leaving...Dad asks when it’s over, then says he might take the very old truck, leave early, and meet her at the cabin.

He has not driven since mid-June, and is arguably still behind on his recovery. It’s a 2.5 hour drive-1.5 for him because he’s reckless-on curvy, winding mountain roads with steep drops and blind turns. It is, again, going up to altitude, which he has been warned against. Also the truck is nearly as old as I am and probably a little stiff with steering.

Mom and I try to subtly point these things out, but he’s not having it. When Mom gets more blunt about it being dangerous, he gets upset with her. We leave.

At this point we’re already running late in my plan. I don’t realistically see us getting through MDs, at lunch hour, before the event starts (but I don’t have the confidence to go alone, and was going to feel weird asking Erin). I have to go get gas because my gas light is on. I tell Mom to meet me there, and we decide she’ll stay for an hour and then go back, hopefully before Dad can leave.

And the whole time I’m getting gas, I’m fuming. That’s when I made that post, because I was in tears because Dad always gets in the way of my plans. Always. You’ve all seen enough posts of me getting emotional because we had plans that I spend a week getting ready for, and Dad throws a wrench in them at the last minute. Even the ones that include him (like the time I wanted to go to the science museum with him this time last year to see cool dinosaurs).

Because here’s the thing for me: I’m...passively suicidal. I don’t know what the technical term is, but I’m learning to explain it to people like Mom and my psychiatrist. Basically I would love to die, but it’s currently not an option because people need me and it would be detrimental to things. So I’m not acting on it, or on my desire to self-harm, but I have to constantly sit with that feeling. And it’s scary to explain because I can’t emphasize enough that I am not a threat to myself, and do not need to go to the hospital (which for me would only make it worse), but I have to continue with everyday life with that feeling constantly eating at me.

So every day, often several times a day, I’m actively making the choice not to die, or relapse, or do anything that would put me in the hospital, for the sake of not putting more stress on everyone else. Currently, with Mom out of town half the week, Dad needs me to drive him places like pt and the store (which, again, is a place that makes me depersonalize and sets off anxiety attacks, but for him is an outing so he takes his sweet time), so me not acting on those intrusive thoughts and impulses directly affects his life.

And here he is, ready to put himself in severe danger on multiple levels and quite possibly die...because he can’t wait three hours for Mom and I to go catch Pokémon.

I drive him places while actively disassociating, put up with his bigoted rants and opinions that directly contradict my own (it’s not worth saying anything), walk on eggshells to not annoy him or risk him snapping at me, am currently arranging most of my schedule to revolve around his needs, and don’t try to hurt or kill myself...

...and he can’t extend me the courtesy of letting me enjoy myself for a few hours without feeling guilty or anxious that something bad is going to happen.

Community Day ended up working out; I caught 10 shiny Beldum, did two raids with Erin (wherein she got her Mewtwo finally, which made me so happy after getting invited to a million EX raids and she only getting invited to one that she had to skip, so I was happy for her), and then we got Pokémon toys after (the two I wanted most, even). But I had to take anxiety meds the moment I got to the art center, fumed quite a bit an nearly lost my temper with Mom at one point (she was parked in a different area and said she was coming over, but then joined a raid and didn’t tell me, so I got worried after ten minutes passed and she wasn’t with me), and really couldn’t relax an enjoy myself until I got a text from her saying that they were headed up together. Dad even drove, apparently. But imagine how much better it could have been if I hadn’t had to deal with any of that?

Imagine me actually getting a day to be happy and enjoy myself and go through with my plans without worrying about Dad’s...everything? Even the day Erin and I saw Fallen Kingdom was spoiled slightly by me worrying about what time Dad would get out of the hospital, because I decided it was Pride Month and I was wearing my rainbow dinosaur shirt to the movie but needed to know if I would have to change before going home (spoiler: he had to stay another night and all the worrying was for nothing).

I just...I want to be able to be happy and take care of myself and Dad serves as one of the larger roadblocks.

And on Sunday I was done with him.

[taekookismylifeline]

(yoonseok) - trust my heart when it beats for you

ao3: (x)

Summary: Jung Hoseok has had an awkward Thing for Min Yoongi for four years of his school life. He is certain that the only thing that gets in the way of them and everlasting love is the fact that Min Yoongi doesn't know he exists, but that all changes due to one drunken text message: a pick-up line. Ready to flee to another country under a false identity in mortification, he finds himself ruining their blossoming friendship and confessing when Yoongi asks why Hoseok had tried to flirt with him. However, things take a turn after his confession when Yoongi starts to (awkwardly) flirt back.

Pairings: Yoonseok, Taekook and Namjin

Chapters: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9)

Chapter Ten -  it's a game of words but, baby, i'd always put you first

“You’re kidding!” Taehyung yelled in his ear the next day. The two were hanging around Taehyung’s bedroom with the radio blaring. Hoseok was sitting at the foot of Taehyung’s bed, his crossed legs were balancing a bowl of crisps, while Taehyung moved from his side to pace around the room. “He said that to you!? Min Yoongi?” He let out a burst of slightly hysterical laughter which Hoseok related with on every level.

Taehyung collapsed dramatically onto the floor without warning and threw a hand over his forehead. “I can’t go on anymore.” Hoseok laughed and threw a crisp at him which landed rather impressively in Taehyung’s mouth, he nearly choked. He sat up and spoke, whilst chewing, his voice was tinted with disbelief: “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

“I’ve been living on Cloud Nine ever since yesterday,” Hoseok attempted to put his giddy feelings into words. “You should have seen him, Tae. He looked so nervous, like he was scared of me, but then he comes out and says it bluntly. He’s so cute, and adorable, but deadly. Maybe he actually did kill me, and I’ve just dreamt it all in the flashback of my life.”

Taehyung crawled over to him to nab a few chips, there was a bright smile written on his face. “Maybe he killed me, too, and I’m dreaming with you. Though, if it were my dream, Jeongguk would be here and we would be holding hands-”

“-Or sucking dick,” Hoseok quipped with a playful smile on his face. Taehyung raised an eyebrow and smirked causing Hoseok to let out a ripple of loud laughter. “Speaking of, you know for certain that Jimin isn’t dating him, are you gonna make a move?”

Taehyung cocked his head, considering it, before scoffing. “Nope.” Hoseok pouted in response, flicking a crisp into Taehyung’s hair. “Gross, you’ve left crumbs. Anyway, I’m not gonna make a move because, first: he just broke up with his girlfriend who he’s been dating for almost a year – I checked his Facebook – and secondly, he’s probably straight. Thirdly, we’ve never talked, ever. I’ll only make a move if we all hang out and I get signals from him.”

Hoseok considered this, leaning against the wall. He blew upwards, making his fringe ruffle, this seemed to stir something in his mind as he recalled a memory: lunch time on Tuesday. “I don’t think you’ll be waiting that long, Tae,” he started and then began explaining what he had seen in the canteen. “It just kinda looked like he had been dared to... I don’t know, walk in your direction or something, and he did it. He circled around the canteen and then walked back to their table. Then Namjoon and Yoongi applauded him sarcastically and he looked kinda sad.” Taehyung frowned at him and then gestured for Hoseok to continue.

“That’s it.” He was regretting saying anything now, it was rather pathetic. “It doesn’t sound like much, but Yoongi looked up at me after saying something to Jeongguk, so maybe they were talking about what he had just done.”

Taehyung looked painfully confused. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

Hoseok sighed in defeat and ate the last chip out of the bowl. “Never mind. I don’t really know what to make of it. Jus, to me, it looked like Jeongguk liked you and they dared him to go near you, maybe even to talk to you, but he was too shy so he walked past you and that’s why they were being sarcastic.”

This conclusion seemed to have changed everything. Taehyung drew himself up, a hopeful smile danced across his face. “So, what you’re saying is that Jeongguk might like me.” Just as the words had escaped his mouth he deflated. He threw his head onto Hoseok’s lap, knocking the bowl onto the floor. “I’m not even gonna get my hopes up.”

Hoseok patted his head and then laced his hand through Taehyung’s hair in a consoling motion. He picked up his phone with his free hand and read his latest notification. He snorted in laughter, releasing Taehyung to open his phone and type out a reply.

“Who are you talking to?” Taehyung asked, lifting his head to peer around Hoseok’s phone to look at the screen. “Ah, of course, I should have known,” he rolled his eyes but his smile gave him away, “look at you, leaving your best friend to talk to lover boy. I see how it is.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” Hoseok explained, smiling and pushing Taehyung’s head away from his phone. Taehyung crawled up onto the bed and sat next to him. “Look, Yoongi said he could eventually like me, right? So, I’m asking him questions to get to know him better and he’s doing the same.”

“It’s like you’re selling yourself,” Taehyung commented dryly, tilting his head until it was placed on Hoseok’s shoulder. “What are you even talking about anyway?” Without warning, he had grabbed Hoseok’s phone and was scrolling upwards, Hoseok protested but Taehyung pushed him away laughing. “Oh my god, you’re doing one of those question sheets, that’s adorable! Did you get it offline?”

Hoseok blushed but hid it in his protestations. He eventually succeeded in managing to prise the phone off of Taehyung. “You sound just like him – and, no, I made it myself.” He settled down on the bed again and went back to texting.

Taehyung cooed. “That’s even more adorable! What are you talking about now?” Hoseok eyed him warily and shielded his phone from Taehyung’s prying eyes. Taehyung tilted his head backwards and laughed. “Oh, come on, it can’t be that special!” Still, Hoseok didn’t answer him. “Have you ever talked about me?”

Hoseok snorted, practically burying himself into the screen of his phone. “The world doesn’t revolve around you. Maybe we have better things to talk about.”

His smug attitude couldn’t last long, not around Kim Taehyung. Said boy moaned in complaint and splayed himself on the bed, laying his head onto Hoseok’s lap again. “Please, tell me! What do you say about me?”

Hoseok sighed in mock-annoyance, and went to play with strands of Taehyung’s hair. “Nothing much, I ask him stuff about his friends and he asks about mine. He’s interested in the people I like, like you, always asks how you are and stuff.”

“What? Just me?” Taehyung questioned, his eyes wide.

Hoseok chewed his cheek as he pretended to rack his brain. “Yeah, now I think about it, it’s mostly just you. We talked about your music taste once, and then he asks how you’re doing, he asks if any of my friends are dating anyone, just the general stuff.” He tried to sound disinterested.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. “Weird. Maybe it’s me he likes, not you.” He poked Hoseok’s cheek with a finger and it was batted away just as quickly.

“No, no,” Hoseok smiled and pinched Taehyung’s cheek. “In fact,” he repositioned his expression into one of nonchalance, “I was rather thinking that he seemed so interested because of a certain someone.”

“What? What do you mean?” Taehyung stilled, the smile fading from his face. It was difficult not to laugh.

“Oh, you know,” Hoseok shrugged. “Like how I share some parts of our conversation with you, I’m sure he does with his friends, a certain Jeongguk maybe?” Taehyung’s eyes grew wild and it seemed as if his eyebrows were about to disappear into his scalp. “And if a certain Jeongguk is interested, perhaps he’s feeding Yoongi questions. If so, is there anything you want me to indirectly ask?”

“Um, is the sky blue?” Taehyung sat up so quickly he head-butted Hoseok in the eye. He didn’t react when Hoseok screamed in pain. Taehyung’s face wore an ecstatic grin, his eyes glistening manically. “I have so many things I want to know! I feel like you talking to Yoongi for the first time! Wait, wait, before I give you questions, can I read what you’ve said about me?”

Hoseok, nursing his eye, grudgingly handed his phone over to Taehyung. “Don’t read past the point after we stop talking about you. And thanks for hitting me in the eye, by the way.”

“No problem,” Taehyung said breathlessly, cradling Hoseok’s phone like it was the new-born child of Christ. “Okay, okay, so... you say, ‘who do you consider to be your closest friends?’ and he says, ‘cute question’ – can you two just make out already? – ‘probably Namjoon and Jeongguk, maybe Jimin whenever he shows up.’ Then he goes, ‘what about you? Let me guess, Taehyung?’ Hey, that’s me! You go, ‘hahaha yeah, and Seokjin too, I don’t know why you thought I had so many friends, I’m a loser hahaha’” (Taehyung scoffed at this) “Ain’t that the truth! Anyway, so then he says, ‘yeah, you are’. Hoseok, I think I’m secretly Yoongi.”

“Ugh,” Hoseok whined, jostling Taehyung. “Stop dissecting our whole conversation! Just read the next part.”

“Fine,” Taehyung complied. “You say, ‘rude, but I can be your loser’ and then a wink emoji. ‘Seok, are you still flirting with him!?”

Hoseok tittered, slinging an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder. “Well, he did invite me to send my whole collection of one-liners, didn’t he?”

Taehyung was apparently too saddened by Hoseok’s attempt at flirting to form a response, so he promptly moved on. “He goes, ‘you’ve had better lines’ and then he says... Oh my god, ‘does Taehyung flirt with his girlfriend as badly as you try with me?’?” Taehyung’s voice broke with how high he had risen his tone. He looked to Hoseok with incredulous eyes. “This isn’t... Min Yoongi wouldn’t write this,” he concluded, his mouth widening into a bright grin.

Hoseok nodded slowly as it dawned on Taehyung. “You’ve seen the light!” He remarked, throwing in a menacing cackle. “Jeongguk likes you-” And then it fully registered with Hoseok. “Jeongguk likes you, Tae, oh my god-” He was cut off by Taehyung throwing himself at Hoseok, they both collapsed onto the bed in a pile of limbs and denim.

“You know what I should do?” Hoseok got out eventually after the two had finally climbed down from their high. He detached himself from Taehyung, pushing his hair from his face and reaching for his phone where Yoongi had replied. “I should ask Yoongi if we should all meet up.”

“What?” Taehyung shot up, the smile still shining on his face. “Like, all of us? Me, you, Yoongi and Jeongguk?”

Hoseok nodded, a surge of confidence flooding through him. He was silent as he composed the message before turning his phone around to show Taehyung, tempting him. “Should I do it?”

It was a question that didn’t even need asking. Taehyung nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining. “Do it, do it, do it.”

He didn’t need any encouragement, Hoseok pressed send. His message was read and after a few agonising minutes he received a reply.

Jung Hoseok: it’s nice talking to u on here but I feel we should do it irl Jung Hoseok: we should meet up with friends! but let’s not make it too crowded Jung Hoseok: if u wanna meet up, I’ll bring Tae u bring Jeongguk?

Min Yoongi: yeah, I get what you mean Min Yoongi: sounds cool, I’m sure he’ll be down Min Yoongi: wanna meet tomorrow?

Jung Hoseok: oh yay!!!! Jung Hoseok: but i’ve already met my tomorrow, my today and my yesterday ;)

Min Yoongi: they’re progressively getting worse

Jung Hoseok: nooo :(  they’re all equally as good!

Min Yoongi: *bad

Jung Hoseok: okay rude Jung Hoseok: I’d like to see you do better

Min Yoongi: is this a challenge? Min Yoongi: or your indirect way of getting me to flirt with you?

Jung Hoseok: OMFG Jung Hoseok: not intentionally Jung Hoseok: challenge accepted?

Min Yoongi: I’ve never flirted with anyone before so it’ll be tragic Min Yoongi: then again, so are your attempts Min Yoongi: so, yes, challenge accepted Min Yoongi: ;)

Jung Hoseok: that winky face got me all flustered boy

“Hoseok!” Taehyung yelled, nudging him with his toe. “Stop flirting and get to the point, are we meeting or not?”

Hoseok was dragged back into reality and realised that he had diverted himself from the task at hand.

Min Yoongi: there’s more where that came from Min Yoongi: ;P

Jung Hoseok: seriously, stop now its damaging to my health im too flustered Jung Hoseok: anyway as much as id love u to send me another emoji Jung Hoseok: r we on for tomorrow? Jung Hoseok: ;)

Min Yoongi: yeah, Jeongguk will be fine with it Min Yoongi: and im fine with it, but not as fine as you Min Yoongi: ;)

Jung Hoseok: oh, Min Yoongi u don’t know what uve signed up for Jung Hoseok: when we do this how far can we go Jung Hoseok: like sexual innuendos and stuff Jung Hoseok: r u okay with that?

Min Yoongi: you’re so precious Min Yoongi: thanks though Min Yoongi: yeah, I’m fine with it, are you?

Jung Hoseok: yeah babes, im down for lots of things ;) Jung Hoseok: im always up for u though

Min Yoongi: I did not expect that so quickly but here we are

Jung Hoseok: well u know what they say

Min Yoongi: expect the unexpected?

Jung Hoseok: no Jung Hoseok: expect things to come quickly ;)

Min Yoongi: I’m not sure if that was flirting or you trying to tell me that you’re premature

Jung Hoseok: WOW Jung Hoseok: I didn’t say i was any good at this!!

Min Yoongi: that’s why you should stop

Jung Hoseok: I cant :( Jung Hoseok: ive gotta go now babes :( Jung Hoseok: Tae is now bleeding and ive gotta play paramedic

Min Yoongi: kinky ;) Min Yoongi: have fun, make sure he doesn’t bleed to death Min Yoongi: otherwise Jeongguk might be disappointed tomorrow

[ushijimawakaflockaflame-blog]

Back to Me - Bokuto Koutaro

AN: Honestly, I don’t know, man, I was in my feels and I was like you know what? I feel like making people sad. So I hope you’re a little sad after reading this.

I think my ideas stemmed from my college party head canons LOL. Enjoy I guess??? idk. should i write for other characters, too?

Cheers to drunk phone calls from your ex-boyfriend.

WARNING: Alcohol mention!

Bokuto swam through the crowd as it carried him from one side of the room to another. The entire house was vibrating with the bass, syncing up with the beat of his heart as he felt it a little harder to breathe. He felt the elbows and knees jab into him as he reached the alcohol, but his body numbed long before so they felt like light tickles. He giggled to himself as he poured another shot of whiskey into a sticky glass.

“Bokuto-san! Where did you -”

“AKAASHI-SAAAAN ~” he slurred, pouring another glass for his friend.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Akaashi asked, looking at the shot glass with disgust as it was handed to him.

“HELL NO!” Bokuto yelled. He raised the glass in the air. “If anything, I need more!! Bottoms up!”

Nothing tasted sweeter than the burn that trickled down his throat. The warmth in his stomach settled in like your arms wrapping around his waist. He remembered the way you would bury your face into his chest, and that’s when he knew he hadn’t drank enough. He remembered the way he would lay his cheek on top of your head and hold you close, never letting you go. The smell of your shampoo clouded his senses in the alcohol-filled environment. He frowned. If he could remember your name, your face, your touch, then he was much too sober.

“Oi,” he hiccuped. “Are you going to drink that or not…!?”

“I’m driving, remember?” Akaashi said, raising an eyebrow.

“Then hand it over! It’d be a waste to not drink it!”

Akaashi tossed the whiskey into the sink as Bokuto stumbled forward. He gasped dramatically, clinging onto Akaashi’s shirt as he lunged forward trying to catch it. His hazy movements made him slip, his body slowly sinking to the floor, bringing Akaashi with him.

“Why did you do that?” his voice was quiet against the loud music.

“Bokuto-san, You drank almost every day this week. We need to go home. You’re not -”

“I’m fine!!” he yelled. “I-I’m not a child!!”

“Then quit acting like one!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Bokuto stumbled as he tried to get up from the floor. His mind flashed to you once again, remembering the time you fell on top of him accidentally and tried to help him up. Your giggles were engrained in his memory, and he coud imagine the way you crinkled your nose so cutely when you both fell to the floor from a failed attempt.

Before he realized it, he found himself outside of the party house on an empty, quiet driveway. He focused on the bass mixing with the sound of crickets. He leaned against the garage for support, but his legs gave out and he slowly slumped to the concrete.

His face felt wet and cold as the night breeze passed through. Touching his face, he felt the tears falling. His face was so numb from all of the whiskey that he didn’t even realize he was crying. His vision blurred as tears began to build up. He choked back a cry as he buried his face in his hands.

If you were with him right now, you would sit down next to him and lay his head on your shoulder to stroke his hair. You’d sing him his favorite song to hush his cries. You’d take his hand in yours. You’d kiss his forehead and tell him everything was all right.

But you weren’t here. And it was all his fault.

Bokuto was selfish. He threw you away six months ago, and now he sat outside alone, looking pathetic.

But he needed you. His heart wasn’t whole, and it was breaking into pieces with every second that passed because all he could think about right now was you. Bokuto could feel his heart race and he began to panic, not sure of what to do with the aching pain in his chest that felt like shattered glass.

With a heavy heart and shaking hands, Bokuto dialed your number.

It was two in the morning and you sat at your desk on this lonely weekend, tapping away at an essay that was due in a few days. You could hear the loud, drunk cheers of your colleagues as they ran through your street, and they sounded all too familiar. You sighed, not wanting to retreat in the dark corners of your memory.

But fate had a funny way of playing with you. You felt your phone vibrate against your desk. When you looked at the caller ID, you felt the air in your lungs get trapped and it was suddenly hard for you to breathe.

Bokuto Koutaro is calling….

You furrowed your brows, annoyed that you hadn’t removed the cute emojis from his name. But why was he calling you at this time of the night? You two hadn’t said a word to each other since he left you, and suddenly it was a convenient time to call.

Before he was your boyfriend, he was your friend; you spent every day after classes together. And when he broke up with you, he wanted to stay friends, yet you knew those situations never worked out in the end, but you didn’t try hard to begin with; it was too hard on your heart to see him smiling without you by his side.

So maybe this was a call where he needed you the most, as his friend.

You sighed, upset at your good conscience, and answered the phone.

“Do you have any idea what time-”

“You picked up.”

Your heart skipped as you heard his quiet sniffles over the phone. What had he been up to this whole night?

“Where are you?” you asked, concern apparent in your voice.

Even in his drunk state, Bokuto smiled as he heard the worry in your voice. You were always so thoughtful of him. “I’m at a house,” he hiccuped.

“A house party….?” you asked. “Are you drunk?”

“I miss you.”

Your heart was weak and poorly mended together. Pieces of it still lay around in the form of a sweater he left at your place and pictures you didn’t have the courage to rip into pieces. But these past six months, you have been slowly putting together the pieces of you that he left behind, and with one phone call, all that work went to wast. What was left of your whole heart slowly began to unravel as he spat out words so flippantly.

“Bokuto, you can’t just say that,” you practically begged.

“That’s not my name,” he whispered.

“What? Yes it is. Where’s Akaashi? Is he with you -”

“That’s not what you call me!” He hit his fist against the shallow metal of the garage door. “Say it. Say my name.”

The desperation in his voice destroyed all what had held your heart together. You were confused and hurt, but you would bear the pain if it meant that Bokuto was going to be ok, and maybe that mentality was what got you here in the first place.

“Kou,” you said, feeling your voice crack.

“Tell me you miss me, too.”

“Kou, I can’t just -”

“Please!” he begged, choking on his words. “I need to know that you miss me as much as I miss you! I know you do!”

“Of course I miss you!” you yelled. As silence fell through, you could imagine the wide eyes his face held. “But you can’t just say that you miss me!”

“W-Why not?”

“You’re the one that left me, remember?” It was your turn to cry now, and Bokuto knew you were. All because of him. “Why did you leave me?”

Bokuto was a handful, and the two years you dated him was a lot of work. You were there through every up and down he had ever experienced. You were so selfless and took care of him like it was so natural to you.

And it wasn’t fair. He knew that he couldn’t give you what you deserved. He knew he was incapable of being the one for you. You didn’t want a child like him; he didn’t deserve you.

“What did I do wrong?” your soft sobs broke his thoughts.

“N-Nothing! You were perfect…. You ARE perfect!” his heart began to race uncontrollable again at the thought of you thinking you weren’t enough for him. You are everything to him.

“Then why!?”

“I don’t deserve you!” he screamed.

“What?” you asked softly.

“You deserve better. You don’t deserve a child like me…. You would be happier with someone else.”

“You’re an idiot.” You were angry that he had the audacity to make such a heartbreaking decision for you. “How could you just do that to me!?”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I was just looking out for you!”

“No, you weren’t!” you choked back your sobs. “I was so happy when I was with you. I revolved my world around you. And then you leave me, and I am just starting to be happy without you.”

Bokuto felt his heart shatter as you finished your sentence. You were happy, and this time, it wasn’t because of him. He was no longer the reason he made you smile. His drunk mind began to think about other guys making you blush and laugh, and he hated himself even more.

“And then you call me when you’re drunk like you’re waltzing back into my life after six months of not talking. What if I was with someone!? Do you know how bad that would look!?”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you seeing someone?” Bokuto asked, although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. If you answered yes, he would hang up right then and there, his heart and mind unable to bear such weight.

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “No, I’m not.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll be over in ten,” and he hung up. You groaned loudly, frustrated that he was still selfish, even when drunk, but you couldn’t deny your quickening heartbeat.

On the dot, you heard a knock on your door. You couldn’t even open it as you unlatched the lock because Bokuto had beat you to it. All in one motion, he fell to his knees before you, tightly wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He buried his face in your sweater to muffle his sobs, and he suddenly felt at home.

His cries ceased as you ran your fingers through his hair. It felt soothing and safe. He nuzzled his face affectionately as a silent thank you and his cries slowly subsided.

You sighed tiredly and sat on the floor of your apartment with him. You could smell the alcohol on his lips. His mind was heavy and he dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to look at you. You cupped his face into your small hands and forced his face up. His eyes were puffy and red from all the crying that it was embarrassing. Your thumbs wiped away his slowing tears.

You clicked your tongue teasingly. “Look at how tired you are.”

“I’m so tired….” he closed his eyes, dipping his head to nuzzle against your palm.

You brought your lips to his forehead, something you knew that would cheer him up right away. Forehead kisses meant everything to him if they came from you only. He felt so loved. Your lips lingered lovingly as you pulled away.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

As you pulled yourself up, Bokuto only tugged you back down.

“I love you,” he blurted out. He squeezed your hands, scared of how you would react. “Don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered, poking his forehead teasingly. “Let’s just go to bed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Bokuto nodded. Gaining a sudden burst of energy, Bokuto lifted you up from the floor bridal style and walked slowly to your bedroom. He missed the way your giggles rang in your ears. All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms through the whole night. You made him feel at home.

[mastcomm]

Emojis Meet Hieroglyphs: If King Tut Could Text

JERUSALEM — The sleek figures, kohl-rimmed eyes and offerings to the gods etched on ancient Egypt’s temples and tombs are enjoying a kind of graphic afterlife, reincarnated in the tears of joy, clinking beer mugs and burger emojis of digital messaging.

An exhibition at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem, “Emoglyphs: Picture-Writing From Hieroglyphs to the Emoji,” highlights the seemingly obvious, but also complicated, relationship between the iconic communication system from antiquity and the lingua franca of the cyber age.

A visual and linguistic exercise in time travel, “Emoglyphs” juxtaposes the once indecipherable pictogram writing of ancient Egypt, which first developed about 5,000 years ago, with the more accessible and universal usage of pictograms that originated in Japan in the late 1990s.

“It was always hard to explain how to read hieroglyphics,” said Shirly Ben Dor Evian, an Egyptologist and the show’s curator. “In recent years it’s become easier to explain because people are writing with pictures. So I started looking into emoji.”

The first thing she noticed, she said, was that some emojis look like hieroglyphs.

A chart at the entrance of the exhibition pairs a column of hieroglyphs with a column of emojis. The similarities are uncanny: There’s no need for translation.

The Egyptian depiction of a slender, generic dog closely resembles the emoji of a prancing canine in profile. A duck (often used as a generic for a winged creature in ancient Egyptian) reappears thousands of years later as an almost identical, left-facing emoji duck. And the “emoji man dancing” strikes a similar pose to a hieroglyph of a dancing man, one arm raised and with little but a purple disco suit and a loin cloth from 3,000 years ago to distinguish between them.

The exhibition, in a small gallery in the museum’s Bronfman Archaeology Wing, has more than 60 ancient Egyptian artifacts on display; most are from the museum’s collection and many of them on view for the first time. Visitors can quiz themselves on their understanding of emojis and their newly acquired knowledge of hieroglyphs on interactive screens. Data on the differing interpretation of some emojis will be gathered as part of a survey.

The two systems may have common features, but there are also deep and complex differences.

Hieroglyphics was a complete written language, and while even an illiterate person could recognize and understand some basic symbols, the scribes worked according to strict rules and had to be highly skilled. Ancient Egyptian inscriptions eventually morphed into the dry efficiency of the first alphabet of around 20 characters, which could be more easily taught and executed, leading to an explosion in communications.

“What’s happened now,” said Ms. Ben Dor Evian, who has a hieroglyph app on her cellphone, “is that it is easier to click on an emoji than to write a whole word.”

Emojis often serve as emotional shorthand — think smiley blowing a heart kiss to soften a message or send love, or a winking face to signal sarcasm — filling an expressive void that text messages may fail to convey.

In ancient Egyptian writing and art, the image of a scarab, or dung beetle, expressed a whole concept of the afterlife and rebirth and was used in inscriptions as the verb “to become.” Hieroglyphics also had ways of adding context in the form of a set of mute symbols known as “classifiers.” A Libyan throw stick could, for example, be used to denote foreignness.

Both systems appear to perceive the power of pictograms. An ancient spell inscribed on a scarab to ease the journey of the dead into the afterlife depicted birds without legs, to prevent them from wandering away from the spell. Thousands of years later, in 2016, Apple switched its lifelike revolver emoji for a bright green toy squirt gun, a move followed by other platforms, in a gesture to those working to reduce gun violence and accessibility.

With the beginnings of research into the field of emoji, Egyptologists, cognitive linguists and communication experts have started debating the similarities between the two communication systems and what sets them apart.

Some have hailed emoji as a new language. One enthusiast produced a crowdsourced and crowd-funded emoji version of Herman Melville’s classic “Moby-Dick” titled “Emoji Dick.” In 2015, Oxford Dictionaries chose the “face with tears of joy” emoji as its word of the year, saying it best represented “the ethos, mood and preoccupations” of the period.

But Chaim Noy, a professor in the school of communications at Bar Ilan University near Tel Aviv who teaches a course on emoji “because it attracts students,” considers it simplistic and populist to speak of emoji as a language, viewing it as a kind of body-language supplement to text.

An expert in museum studies as well, Professor Noy said there was nevertheless “drama” in the exhibition, which runs through Oct. 12, juxtaposing the high culture of the museum and ancient Egypt against the bottom-up, lowbrow culture of emoji.

“It’s a bit provocative, it brushes off the tired, dusty image,” he said.

Emojis may just be the latest manifestation in a long history of pictographic writing and signage, from prehistoric cave painting to advertising logos. Cave dwellers used strong colors to make their wall images tens of thousands of years ago. “Those are super-emoji, more emoji than emoji,” Professor Noy said, adding, “They invented the emoji.”

The exhibition allows the public a rare chance to connect with the ancient world in a way that is relevant to life today, said Prof. Orly Goldwasser, head of Egyptology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, adding that the Egyptians faced some of the same problems as emoji users and developers.

On their own, words and pictures can only go so far in conveying abstract ideas. So the advent of the alphabet, Professor Goldwasser said, was both “a great victory and a great loss.”

“It destroyed the picture,” she said of the alphabet. But now, she added, “All the yearning for the picture has come back through the emoji. So emoji is filling a void, a lack, in the dryness of the word.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/event/emojis-meet-hieroglyphs-if-king-tut-could-text/

[sarahburness]

What Expecting to Die Young Taught Me About Living a Happy Life

“I’ve come to trust not that events will always unfold exactly as I want, but that I will be fine either way. The challenges we face in life are always lessons that serve our soul’s growth.” ~ Marianne Williamson

At the age of nine, I was sitting in a doctor’s office at Baylor University with both of my parents when we were all told I wouldn’t live to see twenty-three. The doctor casually told us my dad would probably never get to walk me down the aisle and I’d likely never make my mom a grandmother, but there was great chicken pot pie in the cafeteria on the first floor.

Enjoy the rest of your day.

Eight months later, on my tenth birthday, the possibility of my dad walking me down the aisle was permanently taken away when he died suddenly of an aortic and thoracic aneurysm. He had the same genetic abnormality I have, which caused the aneurysm, so by my logic, confirmed by the doctors, my demise was not far behind.

I had no idea the day I turned ten, the day I lost my dad, my misguided and broken heart gifted me a license to be entitled and reckless until the day I died. Which, according to the medical community, wasn’t that far away.

Let me back the medical drama bus up back to the day in Texas at the hospital just for a quick, minor detail to note.

That day my dad and I were simultaneously diagnosed with a genetic disorder called Marfan Syndrome.

In a very tiny nutshell, it’s a connective tissue disorder found on the fibrillin one gene. It essentially weakens all connective tissue in the body. The result is a body whose heart, lungs, eyes, and spine are severely impacted. A prominent and common feature with this condition is “abnormal” height. People affected are relatively tall (I’m 6’2”, my dad was 6’9”).

For precautionary purposes, we both stopped participating in any activities that raise the heartbeat, to decrease the risk of having an aneurysm or potentially causing damage to the face due to dislocation of the lens in the eye.

No contact sports, no exercising, no gym at school. I was basically told I could walk, bowl, or golf. I hated sports anyway, so I was excited to not have to dress for gym.

This consequently led to a lifetime of comments like “You don’t play basketball or volleyball?! That’s a shame!” or “Omg, you’re so tall!” As if I wasn’t already painfully aware, but I digress…

Point being, I was told from a very young age on a fairly regular basis, “You can’t.” So I learned to habitually answer, “I can’t” every time someone asked me to do pretty much anything.

What possible negative effects could this have?

I couldn’t see it at the time, but this led to a lifetime of constantly assessing every situation based on whether it was going to speed up my untimely death or not.

I didn’t learn how to question whether or not I liked things but whether or not it was something that was going to kill me sooner or later. In turn, I missed a million opportunities to get to know who I was as a young woman.

All I knew and all I was told were all the things I couldn’t do all the time.

This short-term life span turned my life into a short-term life plan. Soon enough the emotional pains of being a teenager and the new kid in high school, along with unresolved daddy issues, kicked into high gear, and I had no idea how to deal with any of it.

So, I drank. A lot.

The rest of high school and most of college was a blur. I got married at twenty-three because, well, time was running out for me. And then, when I was twenty-four, doctors told me my life expectancy had suddenly increased to forty.

(If there’s one emoji to express how I felt it would be the face with the wide eyes and red cheeks that looks like he would say “Oh sh*t!” if he could talk.)

I panicked and started trying to speed up the clock. Living wasn’t for me. I wasn’t raised to live; I was raised to die. Live all the places, have a baby, buy the stuff, laugh all the laughs, and then die.

This is where my excessive drinking turned into full-blown alcoholism and prescription drug addiction.

I was either going to OD or make my heart explode, but I wasn’t going to stick around. I must note that none of this was planned, intentional, or a suicide mission. In my mind at the time, I literally didn’t know what else to do, not even how to ask for help.

So, someone asked for help for me. Rehab is a whole other blog.

I’m thirty-nine now, well past my expiration date, and still learning how to live life today. In my drinking days, life revolved around morbid reflection. In early sobriety, life revolved around morbid projection. Today life revolves around just this day. This hour. This moment.

When one of my coaches asks me to journal about how I want my life to look in five years or where I want my business to be long term, I still don’t know how to answer that.

I don’t understand long term. And for the longest time, I always thought that to be a nightmarish curse. Until now. 

My inability to see life long-term seems to be all the rage these days. There’s Eckhart Tolle, Wayne Dyer, and Deepak Chopra all preaching about being present, being here now, and being there with the spirit of love, and I’m over here wondering how long the two-week wait to hear if this gets published is going to feel or if I’ll be around to see it go live.

When you think about it, we’re all terminal. No one gets out of here alive. Yet we all run around like we’re going to cheat death—ironically, with this weird impending sense of doom.

We run out of joy staying married to jobs, people, and places we are no longer passionate about. We’ve forgotten how to be happy because we’ve made it so elusive.

It only feels elusive because we’ve spent our time wrong. We’ve spent our time focusing on how we can create a living for ourselves instead of how to create a life for our hearts, and the only way to do that is to get to know yourself first.

In designing my life by listening to my heart, I discovered a few things along the way.

I learned that we habitually state we are human beings, but we spend too much time doing. We get stuck in the how and what next instead of being right where our feet are in that moment. I learned to create space and presence for life to happen organically instead of allowing my mind to race with perceived fears.

Living in each moment used to mean living as recklessly as possible and constantly challenging the odds just to see if I would make it. Today, living in each moment means being driven by what my heart is calling me to do.

I’ve learned to take the time to figure out what the voice of my heart sounds like instead of the blazing of doubt in my mind. This finally allowed me to see what felt light and right in my life and allowed everything that feels heavy to fall to the way side.

Heart driven. Soul led.

This journey was started by a seed that was planted three decades ago. The seed called “I can’t” grew into a self-fulfilling prophecy filled with destruction, heartbreak, sorrow, and the urge to run from everything.

When I stopped running (drinking, using, blaming, complaining) and learned to be still with myself and all that had encompassed my life, an entirely new life was born.

In designing my life and healing my soul, I have found that happiness can be found in big moments like reuniting with my soulmate, winning a competition, or leaping into a new career. It can also be found in the smaller moments like watching my child choose a book instead of watching television, receiving flowers just because, or just being grateful for the sunshine.

But I have found I am the happiest and most content when I am meditating, creating a safe space for others, and playing. Playing like a child on a daily basis is where it’s at. Whether I’m writing, coaching, baking, or gluing rhinestones on anything I can get my hands on, that’s where I’m at complete peace.

And that (happiness) seems to be the individual goal of most people I meet, but it doesn’t seem to translate into the collective thinking. That’s where I’ve found the hiccup. The getting tied up in what we see everyone else doing, where everyone else is succeeding, and then wondering why we don’t have a that perfect slice of peace pie that everyone else seems to have.

The hardest thing I’ve learned is there is no special sauce, no magical happiness-to-sadness ratio, and no one-size-fits-all solution. We each have to define happiness for ourselves.

For me, this means doing the work. It looks like me getting brutally honest with my past, mending my mistakes, giving love to every person I meet, and telling those who are close to me what’s really going on every day.

This connects me to you and you to me, and this is ultimately the biggest lesson I learned.

We all want to be seen. We all want to be heard. We all want permission to be ourselves. I’ve experienced what that feels like, and now I’m living a life that I was told would never happen. I stopped believing other people’s opinions of me, my life, and where they think it should be when I realized those opinions and thoughts are about what’s missing from their life, not mine.

There is no slice of peace pie waiting for you or for me. We each have our own pie to flavor, bake, and share. I guess that would be called Purpose Pie. I sit in gratitude every day I have found my pie and am able to share with all who are hungry.

All of this because they told me I was going to die and the hospital chicken pot pie was nice.

About Lindsay Wilson

Lindsay is a life and mentor coach walking clients through emotional recovery and into self-discovery from significant emotional events including death of a parent, rape, addiction, medical challenges, infertility, and divorce. Lindsay is a single mother to an eight-year-old superhero in Nashville, TN and is on a mission to get rid of the phrase “good enough.” Visit her at lindsaywilsoncoaching.com.

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