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azucarmorena97 · 4 months

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Cold (2)

Prologue | Pt.1

Spoiled rotten. Idiot. Greedy. Gluttonous. Evrything you could ever despise in a human being, all wrapped up in a beautiful, gold foil package. Seokjin is known across the land- or, at least all over three different IVY league campuses in the area- as the party-legend and the guy to call for a good time. Not to mention, a total whore. The last person you ever would've wanted as a group mate for the first quarter of the new semester, and the last one you would've ever imagined to have fallen absolutuely, head over hell in love with.

Hell as officially frozen over.

A/N: This takes place before Jin's part in my BTS as Cliched School Tropes. I will be inserting a link to that piece right where it fits chronologically in the story so you can read it and come back when it's time. All the boys in this story are from that piece with each story occurring in the same universe and on the same timeline.

Recap: "We're waiting for you." "Who's waiting for me?" He asks, a genuine look of confusion on his face. You stare at him blankly, deciding on whether or not he's pulling your leg, "Hoseok and I. Your team. For the project." He glances over at Hoseok, who is texting away at the other table. "Right, the project." - Everyone starts gathering their things and walking out, chatter filling the room. The crowd Jin was sitting with all walks forward to exit the room, and of course, Jin doesn't even look yours or Hoseok's way. Fuck it. You don't need him.

You stare intently at the screen of your open laptop, fingers typing away furiously. You haven't spoken two words to Hoseok since you've sat down next to him, and he's too afraid to speak up on account of your biting his head off. You don't like to be interrupted when you're on a roll- especially when you and Hoseok are the only ones working on this entire fucking project.

Thankfully, you've been doing a fine job of keeping your mind off of that ingrate. After the first day when you'd made an attempt to reach out to Jin, you've not even bothered to try again. For what? You're all adults here. No need to beg.

If he wants to fuck up his time at one of the most prestigious universities in the entire country, that's his business.

Hoseok clears his throat, "I- I know you're like...in the zone right now but we gotta figure out how we're gonna do the presentation."

"Eh," You grunt, barely listening to him. "I think it would behoove us to plan, seeing as how neither one of us is much of a public-" "Hoseok, we can think about all that later. Please. I'm working."

Hoseok purses his lips, deciding it's better to just drop it for now, "Alright then. Well, I have got a very important meeting to attend so I shall be bidding you adieu." You wave him away, "Have fun on your date. Tell B/f/n I said 'hi'." "I'm closer to telling her how mean you are to me," He mutters, grabbing his stuff and then walking out of the library.

You continue working for a while longer, until you feel your eyes start to ache from all the strain.

For the first time in two hours, you finally lean back against the stiff, hard wooden chair, stretching your arms upwards and trying to fight the urge to do that thing where the stretch is so good that it makes you scream in relief.

As you try to focus on recovering whatever's left of your eyesight, you manage to pick up on some voices coming from a few tables away.

"It's gonna be huge. I might go shopping the night before- I have like, nothing to wear." "I'm definitely tagging along. I heard last year, he ordered a petting zoo and then set the animals loose."

You're only half paying attention, until you hear one voice say, "Knowing Jin, it's probably true. He always does some crazy shit at his parties."

To your intense dismay, your ears can't help but perk up at the sound of his name.

Of course, too busy planning grand orgies to contribute jack shit to the project. Typical.

"I just hope it doesn't get shut down like the one he threw a few years ago. Cops came and everything." "I don't think so. It's gonna be at his family's beach house- it's in like, the middle of nowhere so the neighbors can't snitch." You roll your eyes and slam your laptop down a little harder than you mean to, causing the girls at the other table to whip their heads in your direction.

"Sorry...some of us actually came to the library to study." You say dryly, shoving the computer into your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder.

Some of us came university to actually get shit done.

"Great news," B/f/n runs into the kitchen and sits next to you at the kitchen counter. "Hit me," You say, mouth full of cereal.

"Taehyung's coming over tomorrow to help Hoseok with those math assignments he didn't turn in," She says excitedly.

Your eyes widen and you almost choke, your series of coughs sending bits of Lucky Charms flying about.

She slaps your back a few times until you're able to clear your throat, "I'm okay-" "Isn't this great? You'll get another chance to talk to him." "Ugh, but what if I fuck it up again like last time." "You won't. I know you won't. Besides, it seemed like he was totally into it last time." "Really?" You furrow your brows, searching her eyes for validation. "I'm so serious. You have nothing to worry about." Her words put you at ease and you're able to relax a bit, your mind already running through various topics of conversation you can run through.

"Anyway, you and Hoseok almost done with your speech project?" "Mm?" You ask, head very much in the clouds. "The project? You guys done with it?" "Oh, yeah basically. Piece of cake."

You wake up the next morning with a smile on your face, mind already on this evening when you'll finally be able to see Tae again. You rarely see him around campus as his schedule seems to run completely against yours. And even when you do see him, he seems always to have his nose in a book or be on his way somewhere and you're much too chicken to actually approach him on your own. Hopefully you'll be able to change that when you see him later.

Of course right now, the task at hand is the project.

That pesky little project.

When you get to school, you head straight to your speech class, taking advantage of the empty classroom for a good hour and a half before everyone starts trickling in.

You worked practically through the night to fully put it all together and then to piece your part of the powerpoint to Hoseok's. You've managed to put the finishing touches to everything, but now there's just one last detail to iron out...

"I told you we should've been planning this days ago." "When did you say this?" You furrow your brows. "Multiple times!" He says exasperatedly, beginning to scratch his arms furiously. "What's wrong with you?" You ask. "You know how I get when I'm nervous!"

His arms are forming hives before your very eyes, but you can't bring yourself to feel any compassion- not after the 8th-Grade-Valedictorian-Throw up incident of 2011.

"Hoseok, I can't. There's no way- It took me all night to do my part, yours only took a few hours. It's only fair-" "Come on, you know how I am with public speaking," Hoseok complains.

"I'll do it."

A/N: This is where our prologue comes in!

"Was it as good for you as it was for me, AP?"

Jin's words are seared into your head even well after all your classes are over and done with; in fact, you're now sitting in front of your vanity and beating the crap out of your skin with a beauty blender still thinking about Jin.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Come in." You say dryly. B/f/n skips in, a big smile on her face as she closes the door behind her, "How's it going?"

"Great." You stare coldly into your reflection, patting even more harshly than before.

"You're still thinking about Jin?" She rolls her eyes, coming over to take your hair out of the claw clip and beginning to fix it for you.

"Thinking about Jin? Please," You lie, violently shaking your head. "You're such a bad liar." "I'm not lying," You hiss. She doesn't answer you, just keeps fixing and fixing- "But him doing well on this project was a fluke. A total fluke." You can't help but say your peace.

"Yes, mhm. A fluke," She says sarcastically. "What? You think it wasn't?" "I mean... come on, Y/n. Look at the type of person he is," She shrugs, "He's kind of a natural performer, you know? It's just something he's good at." "Oh please, Jin? Good at something? No way." "Well, whatever it is, you should be happy- you guys did well." "Yeah, yeah, yeah," You pout, reaching up to hand B/f/n a bobby pin. "Yeah, yeah," She mimics you, finishing up your hair. "Anyway, you better finish up. Tae's gonna get here in like-" Knock. Knock.

You and B/f/n look at each other confused. "Yeah?" You call out. "Hate to break it to you but Tae can't come over tonight afterall. He won't be able to come until tomorrow night."

It takes you a moment to register what he's said, but once you do, you shoot up from your vanity seat and stomp over to your bed, "I hate this day!"

B/f/n can do nothing but pat your back, "There, there, my melodramatic friend."

"Excellent work," Professor Song says, walking over to you and Hoseok, setting a paper down on the desk. Hoseok is first to grab it, his face immediately lighting up, "Hell yeah."

He hands you the paper and you see it's a page full of notes on a rubric for yesterday's presentation. All positive notes on Jin's section, though yours has one or two "tips" on being less monotone and being more charismatic "Like Jin".

"Look, I know you hate him but he kind of saved our asses yesterday," Hoseok says, trying to help the situation, though of course, it just makes you wanna murder him.

"How'd we do?" Jin's voice both surprises and irritates you, though neither of them notices, clearly, as Jin comes and sits in the seat right between the two of you.

"Dude, you did it." "Nah, man. You guys did it. I just wrapped it up nice and beautiful..." You glare at Jin, who finally acknowledges you, "I mean, we wrapped it up nice and beautiful. Didn't we, AP?"

"Actually, considering Hoseok and I did all the heavy lifting, I don't think you should really be getting more than a one percent increase on your grade." You don't even care to hold back. You've been sitting on these feelings for long enough.

"Y/n-" Hoseok sheepishly tries to reel you in, but Jin shakes his head to signal him to stop. "No, no- she's right. You guys did all the work and I just piggy backed off of you." "It's no trouble at all, really Jin. Like I said, you saved our asses."

"Well, you two definitely could've managed it without me, but-" "You can say that again." You add, though it doesn't deter Jin who only looks at you with a smirk.

"As a token of my gratitude for letting me piggy back off of you, I wanted to extend an invitation to a party I'm throwing on Saturday."

You narrow your eyes at him as you remember the conversation you'd overheard a few days ago.

There's no way this fucker thinks an invite to a party full of burnouts is gonna be enough for basically slapping his name on a project he didn't even do.

"I'm in, man!" Hoseok says immediately, a big smile on his face.

Your mouth hangs open in disbelief at how easily Hoseok sells himself.

"Alright!" Jin celebrates, dapping Hoseok up before turning to you, "What about you, AP?" "I have a name, you know?" "Oh, I know. But I like my nickname for you much better," He says, looking at you with a distinctive look that, for some abominable reason, gives you butterflies.

"Yeah, I'm not doing this. Count me out." You grab your stuff and shove it into your back as quickly as you can. "Wait, but class is just starting," Hoseok furrows his brows. "Then I guess Jin better pay real close attention," You say, shoving past the both of them and walking straight out the door.

"You should have seen him, B/f/n," You rant, walking back and forth as B/f/n has her back to you, stirring the chili she's spent the past four hours preparing for tonight. "Oh, I can imagine." "In that moment, he was a rich man's whore, that boyfriend of yours." "I believe it," She nods, turning around with a big spoon full of chili, "Taste."

"And then-" You blow a few times and then take the scoop into your mouth, "-woah, that's hot-" You breathe in and out a few times to cool the food in your mouth, "-that's really good- and then Jin turns to me and he gives me this...this look."

"A look?" "A LOOK." "What kind of look?" She tilts her head to the side, much like a dog would when it's trying to understand. "I...I don't know, a look. Like he wanted to like...devour me or something."

"Oooh, devour," She says teasingly in a sultry tone. "Shut up, it's not funny," You say exasperatedly.

"Well, you already told him no, right? So it's done. You won't need to interact with him until the next project. He's bug on the windshield."

"You're right. I-I've spent too much energy thinking of this asshole already." "Exactly. You need to focus your attention on something better. Like...Taehyung?" She says, a smirk on her face.

"You're very right," You smile back, smoothing out your carefully curated track suit; just casual enough to pass as not having tried to hard, but still cute enough to seduce the object of your desire- plus it makes your ass look really good.

About twenty minutes later, there's a knock at the front door.

"I've got it!" You sing, dashing past Hoseok who was already on his way to open the door. Of course, when you see Tae, you immediately lose all confidence. You've never been good at this kind of stuff.

"H-hey, Tae. Oh, ha, that rhymed. I didn't even mean to..." You feels your cheeks get redder and redder with every word, "I'm a- a poet and I didn't even know it." Tae chuckles, "Hey, Y/n."

"Ahem," Hoseok says from behind you, cringing at how weird you're being, "Come on in, man."

You step to the side, keeping your eyes glued to the carpet, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

"Thanks," Taehyung smiles at you, then at Hoseok.

"Taehyung, I hope you're hungry- I made chili for dinner!" B/f/n calls out from the kitchen. "Oh, that sounds great- I'm starving," Tae says, patting his stomach.

"I'll go get the bowls!" You interject, walking quickly to the kitchen. "You're too anxious, Y/n," B/f/n says, glancing at you from the corner of her eye as your nerves make you suddenly forget where the hell the bowls are, so you're opening and slamming every damn cabinet.

"I know, I need to relax," You pause for a moment to take a deep breath to regain your sense. Then, you go to the cabinet next to the sink, grab four bowls and some spoons.

"I put the biscuits in the microwave so Munchkin wouldn't get them," B/f/n serves one of the bowls and then places it down on the counter to grab the next on.

Munchkin is her very adorable, very fat Black cat. You glance down at the ball of fure, sitting there like a shark, waiting for a piece of food to "accidentally" fall too the floor, as it often does whenever you're in the kitchen.

What can you say? You're a sucker for those pretty, green eyes.

You manage to balance all four bowls in your arms and carefully walk out to the dining room to set them down. Hoseok has his laptop open and set to whatever math homework, Taehyung is sat next to him, eyes narrowed at the screen as he figures out a way to explain it to him.

"Oh, thanks-" Tae says when he realizes you're carrying his bowl of food. "No worries," As you're about to set it on the table, he goes to grab it directly from your hands, his fingertips grazing against yours ever so slightly, making you blush.

He seems not to have noticed at all though, his eyes returning to the task at hand.

B/f/n, who'd followed behind you with the drinks, glances at you with a small smirk. You smile back at her, trying not to make it to obvious that you're completely over the moon.

Tae and Hoseok switch back and forth between Hoseok's math homework and conversations with you and B/f/n. You've learned Tae grew up in Daegu and has younger siblings- and with every crumb of information, you hunger to learn more and more.

"Ugh, this is so hard...I don't even know how the hell I'm gonna pass this class," Hoseok groans, shutting his laptop closed. Tae sighs, "I'm not gonna lie, I don't either." "Ah well...guess I'll just have to make my peace with it." "I mean, you have this weekend to study, right?" Tae asks, taking a drink from his beer; the first sip he'd taken all night. Not much of a drinker, you take it.

"Fuck no. I'm going to a party this weekend," Hoseok says, leaning back in his chair. "Oh are you know?" B/f/n asks, crossing her arms and raising her brows at him. Hoseok chuckles sheepishly, "I mean, we're going to a party." You roll your eyes, "Traitor." "Whose party is it?" Tae asks, sounding interested. "Seokjin- that guy Y/n was complaining about last time" You wince- you'd like to forget last hangout's rant.

"Oh! That's the guy? Small world," Tae says, tilting his head. "How small?" You ask, narrowing your eyes at him. "Well, he invited me and a few of my friends to his party this weekend too. At the beach house, right?"

"Yeah! That's dope, we'll see each other there," Hoseok cheers. "Yeah, guess so," Tae chuckles. You're in disbelief at what you're hearing. How could Tae be attending a party thrown by such a twat? Did he not listen to a word you said last time? What kind of company is he keeping?

And how the fuck are you gonna get into that party?

"No." "Come on, Hoseok!" "No." "Please- you know how much I need this!" "Y/n, he asked you if you wanted to go and you said no. Now you want me to jump in and speak for you?" Hoseok places the freshly washed bowls onto the drying rack.

"I would owe you big time, come on." "I said no-" "Babe, come on. Throw her a bone," B/f/n cuts in, dragging her nail gently across his neck and tracing the side of his jaw so that she can pull his face toward her. Of course, like the golden retriever he is, he immediately caves, "Alright, I'll ask him."

"Yes! THANK YOU, HOSEOK!" You cheer, patting his shoulder firmly, "I owe you one."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," He waves you away, drying his hands with a kitchen towel.

You browse the bookshelf carefully, your eyes narrowed at the each spine as you search for the assigned reading for your history class. "Where is that little fucker," You mumble to yourself. "Looking for me?" An all too familiar voice says from behind you.

You whip your head in the direction of the voice, face already fallen before you've even fully laid eyes on him. "Jin." "AP," He smirks, leaning against the shelf. "What do you want?" You ask irritatedly. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He narrows his eyes at you, though the smirk never leaves his face. "Why would you do that?" "Well, seeing as how you got Jhope to come back and ask me to invite you to my party, wouldn't you think it begs the question?" "Ah, yes..." You search your thoughts for some kind of excuse to give him since you will absolutely not be telling him about Taehyung. "Tell me the truth, AP," He takes two steps forward and now he's close enough that you smell his cologne. You try not to let it distract you. "You've always been in love with me, haven't you?"

You can't help but scoff at how brazen an assumption he's made. "Excuse me? Me? In love with you?" "Don't act so surprised- you're a girl, I'm a guy, is it so hard to believe?" "Correction- you're not a boy. I'm not even sure you're human, actually," You turn your attention back to the shelf, feigning disinterest in the conversation so he'll leave you the hell alone. He chuckles, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Besides, I've got my eye on something better." You grab some random ass book and then turn around to walk right past him, though he doesn't get the hint as he immediately follows behind. "Mmm, so that's why you wanted an invite to the party. I see," He strokes his chin, "The interesting thing is that, well, I don't remember inviting anyone who could hold a candle to me."

You stop walking and turn to face him again, "Goodness, how do you breathe with your head shoved so far up your own ass?"

"Through a little straw- would you like to see?" He smiles.

That smile... Stop it. "Anyway, I only came to tell you that if you want me to invite you to my party again, I need you to do it, not your little squire." "Technically, he's my best friend's squire," You roll your eyes. "Whatever he is to you, I want you to ask me nicely." "Ask you nicely to what?" You feign innocence. "Playing dumb, I see. Alright, well, I won't have an idiot coming to my party," He shrugs, walking past you this time with his hands in his pockets. You stand there for only a moment, contemplating whether or not it's worth losing the last ounce of your dignity to ask again.

"Wait." You finally pipe up.

"Mm?" He asks, arrogantly holding his head up to look down at you. "Jin..." 'Mhm...?" "Will you please..." "Will I please...what?" His smile is growing wider and wider. "Will you please...invite me to your party again?" Your face is getting more and more red. This is so fucking embarrassing. You wouldn't even be giving a fuck about this party if it weren't for Tae.

"Since you asked so nicely, I shall accept your request," He says with a bow.

Your shoulders drop in relief, "Thank you," You say, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Of course. Here, type your number into my phone." "Why?" You ask, your disgusted expression delighting him further. "So I can send you the details? Or would you rather me tell the squire?" He asks sarcastically.

"Fine," You say, taking his phone from his hand and typing your number in. He takes the phone back and types something else that you can't see, before shoving the phone into his pocket once more.

"Pleasure doing business with you, AP," He says with a smug expression. "Likewise."

A/N: I know there doesn't seem to be a lot of Jin fans out here but I really like this story so far. Show it some love <3

#jin #seokjin #kim seokjin #bts jin #bangtan sonyeondan #bts seokjin #jin imagine #jin x reader #bts imagine #fluff #angst #bts fanfic #bts ff

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jeonstellate · 1 year

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chaos inferno — ember i

himiko’s self-care day gets interrupted.

✶༄ platonic!eternals x nb!original character

✶༄ no warnings available for this ember

✶༄ paragraph format — 0.5K words

masterlist | chaos inferno masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

Miko was more than ready to spend faers much needed, meticulously planned self-care day.

Just as like she scheduled, fae headed straight to the shower after cooling off from sparring and made a beeline into her room. If everything went according to her general plan, faers teammates wouldn’t hear from faer until tomorrow afternoon. (She made sure to notify faers teammates days prior, by putting it on their shared whiteboard calendar in all uppercase with a bold circle around her writing, to ensure that they wouldn’t disturb faer unless there was an emergency.)

Miko had put a considerable effort in her self-care day — just like fae had done in faers previous ones. She projected her laptop screen onto an empty wall; adjusted the room lighting to be a little dimmer; spread out faers face masks, nail polish, and other "chemicals" (as Sam referred to them once). Fae even stacked up on a bunch of snacks and drinks in faers room to minimize her trips outside her room for the day — and to maximize the number of episodes fae can zoom through in faers self-care lockdown.

All was well . . . for about two hours, at least. She managed to finish a couple drama episodes as she waited for the nail polish on faers toes to dry. Fae had also washed off faers first face mask and was only waiting for the third episode to finish before putting on the second one. However, right when she took a little break from her marathon did fae find out that faers relaxation was not meant to last.

Although fae made a specific request not to be disturbed, Miko couldn’t help but check on her teammates. Mostly to make sure they weren’t in the process of burning their headquarters down, really. Yet, when fae reached the common areas in the compound, she found no signs of life. Her gut wasn’t feeling weird or anything, so fae figured no one was in trouble — they were just doing their own thing somewhere, probably.

However, just to be safe, Miko decided to check in on one of her teammates. "ADONIS, where’s Sam?"

"Sam’s sleeping in his room," the AI responded immediately. "Shall I wake him up for you?"

"No need." If the Captain was slumbering, that must mean nothing was in chaos, so it was safe to just return to faers room. "Thanks, ADONIS."

With a peace of mind, fae made a beeline towards the bathroom to put on her next face mask — only for the AI to announce that a couple of people were waiting in the lobby as fae was finishing up.

"Oh, that must be Kate and Yelena, I’ll go bring them up." Miko navigated herself towards the elevator, albeit with some difficulty since fae was making sure faers face mask didn’t fall.

When the elevator opened, she was immediately greeted by two tenant agents waiting for the next elevator. Suddenly hyperaware of faers appearance, fae quickly bowed and murmured a greeting before she sped walk away to find faers friends.

"Himiko," the receptionist called faer over when she circled around the lobby for the third time, "what are you looking for?"

"I—" fae scratched her neck in embarrassment, "ADONIS said there are people waiting here, but I can’t find them."

The receptionist chuckled, "You’ve walked past them twice. They’re over there."

Miko followed the end of the receptionist’s pointer finger, but fae couldn’t comprehend why none of the people there were faers friends — nor anyone she knew, for that matter.

next ember >

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fatedwithmbc · 1 year

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A realization occurred to me as I began writing this entry — I start every entry with “I”. How does one stop this?

Tonight, I planned out an outfit for each day that I am in Colorado. I have doled out my medication for each day. I have my toiletries ready for their bag. My makeup bag is ready for the suitcase. I know what shoes I’m taking. I wrapped the gift for my hosts. Yet, I still feel like I am forgetting something. I think this is normal when you’re preparing to travel anywhere and won’t be home surrounded by everything that could be needed.

I am excited for the trip. I am nervous for the physical travel. I have an early flight on Wednesday, requiring a 5AM train ride to the airport. I’m NOT an early bird, so this shall be an interesting experience. I think, also, on the way home, I have to be at the airport around 2AM. Flight times are horrible lately, not to mention the constant mention on the news about delays and cancellations. I am crossing my fingers that this doesn’t have an impact on any of my travel.

Last time I flew, I took a carry on. I could probably get away with one again, but knowing my penchant for purchasing gifts/souvenirs for my friends and family, I decided to check a bag. I’ll have plenty of room for anything I should decide to purchase.

For giggles, I checked the status of my passport renewal and they’ve already cashed my check. They still have an estimated 10-13 week processing time though. It’ll be interesting to see if I receive it any faster than the estimated time-frame.

Tomorrow I see my oncologist. I have a extensive list of questions to ask since the switch of my medications from Kisqali to Ibrance. I also know (from TV) that if Ibrance doesn’t work out, there is another option called Verenzio. I was taken off my A.I. which I think I mentioned in a previous post. I am thankful though, because I haven’t had any back pain. I really liked my physical therapist, but I am not sure I agree with her assessment of my condition being due to poor posture and a potential bulging disc in my back. I am still experiencing the plantar fasciitis in my right foot, but it’s very intermittent and comes on with specific movements. I still feel like my health is everywhere, but I’m ready to get back to work.

I am hoping my oncologist will agree with sending me back to work, but on a part time basis for a stretch of time before I have to jump back into full-days. I think if I go from zero to one hundred right away, I’ll burn-out quickly. I want to do what is best for the long term.

Project “Clean My Closet and in the Process my Room” is at about 75% complete. I’m nervous to not complete this before I go back to work, but I don’t have a choice. I will just have to make sure I keep working on this goal, which is almost at the finish line. 90% of my clothes are washed and I just need to decide how to organize them. My idea is that overflow t-shirts that won’t fit in my dresser will go on the upper shelf of my closet. Shirts (sans hoodies and sweatshirts) will be hung on the first rod in my closet. Pants will be hung on the bottom rod of my closet. Hoodies, sweatshirts and anything deemed winter related will be placed in storage tubs in the basement (close to the washer and dryer for easy access). Bedding and towels will continue to be stored in the chest in my room and overflow will be in the basement totes (if needed). I like my plan. I just need to execute it. I feel as if I am good at coming up with plans, but don’t always execute them well. So, I need to focus when I get back from Colorado. I will only have one week left before (hopefully) returning to work.

This evening to relax, after organizing to pack, I set up my essential oils diffuser; lavender (no surprise there) and cedar wood. The lavender has many calming benefits, but the cedar wood is grounding and calming as well. I am glad I chose to mix in a little something extra with the lavender. The scents on top of my medications has put me in a very relaxed mood that should help me find sleep easily, especially if I read my next book for a little bit. Once I get the “droopy eyes” I know I’ll be ready to fall asleep. I just hope I don’t wake up like I have the last few evenings. And unfortunately, it’s been for significant chunks of time and not just ten minutes or so. I am feeling optimistic the combination of things above will help me out this evening.

That being said, I’m going to cut this post to everything above and set about to sleep.

Thanks for being here and supporting my writing.

El Fin.

#fated with mbc #confessions of a cancer patient #stage iv deserves more #metastatic breast cancer #stage iv metastatic breast cancer #breast cancer

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maatryoshkaa · 4 years

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between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

3K notes · View notes

minsyal · 3 years

Text

The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

Feedback is always appreciated

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@ambiguous-g @ren-ni @metaphorical-love-for-a-car @lgbtomatoes

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg #re8 #re8 heisenberg #Resident Evil Village #resident evil heisenberg #lord heisenberg #resident evil 8 #re8 imagines

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fangirlovestuff · 3 years

Text

More Than Meets The Eye - Steve Rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this one is for @s1utforfictionalcharacters, who asked for a Steve x reader enemies to lovers a while ago. thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient, and i hope you enjoy!!<3

Summary: Between figuring out what was the Tesseract doing at a Hydra base and if it even is the Tesseract, you need to navigate your relationaship with one annoying, broody Captain. Honestly, you might prefer the Hydra thing.

this isn’t set in the mcu timeline, but takes inspiration from a few mcu movies. it’s not canon compliant and everyone’s alive:)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: lowkey angst and some tension, maybe a curse word or two? tell me if i missed anything!

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

"Rogers!" you heard Tony's voice over the comms, "Where the hell are you?"

"Babysitting," you heard Steve's irritated voice, not only over the comms but also behind you, right before you saw him dashing past you to punch the Hydra agent you were fighting square in the jaw.

"Well, get America's ass over here, now," Tony grunted, clearly mid-fight himself, "we need backup."

"Go!" you yelled at him, spinning to take out another agent that was coming up behind Steve, "I got this!"

"You sure?" he asked, his tone sarcastically degrading, jumping while kicking two agents simultaneously. Showoff.

"Yes," you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "I can handle them, go help the others!"

"Alright," he grunted as he pushed off another agent before running back in the direction he came from, towards the rest of the team.

"Cap, you coming or what?" Natasha spoke on the comms, calmer than Tony, but it was obvious she's just as in need of backup as he was.

"Coming!" Steve replied, before it went relatively quiet.

You finished up disarming the rest of the agents in your wing of the building. No one was calling for you on the comms yet, so you decided to make another round in the perimeter, make sure you didn't miss anything.

God knows captain know-it-all is gonna be on your ass about it if that's the case. And honestly, you have more than enough of that as is.

As you were walking down the hallway, you noticed a strange, glowing light coming from under the doors. Upon finding it was unlocked, you opened it to reveal a room that was entirely filled with the same blueish light you had seen, and it was all coming from a desk in the middle of it.

Approaching slowly and letting your eyes time to adjust, you got closer and closer, realizing the shiny object was a peculiar blue cube. A cube you knew well, perhaps even too well.

"Guys, if you're done over there, you might wanna come to my wing. There's something you're gonna want to see."

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

"Okay, we have to keep looking, maybe they left some blueprints or anything that can indicate how they were planning on using it," Steve commanded, "or already have."

"Wait," you said before everyone split up to follow his orders, "as important as the why they got it is, I think the first question we should be asking is how the hell they got it. I thought it was locked away in the Asgard safe?" you looked at Bruce, who out of all of you had the most contact with Thor.

"It was, the last time I checked," he frowned. "I'll see if I can contact Thor, see if he knows anything."

"You do that," Tony interjected, "the rest of you, follow Cap's order while he and I have a little chat. Shall we Rogers?" he pulled a frowning Steve aside, while you all split up to try and find any information you could salvage.

In your search, you ran into Natasha. As you were both scouring the same desk for clues, working together like a well-oiled machine, you asked, "what did Tony want from Cap?"

"Probably to ask him where the hell was he when we needed his backup," she said matter-of-factly. "Or, you know, where the heck he was. We all know Steve's proper like that," she smiled, and you let out a chuckle at her words.

"Well, that’s good," you remarked, "since he really should've been there for you guys. I don't know what was that all about," you scrunched up your nose. "Nothing here," you added, closing the drawer you were looking through.

"Yeah, here too," Natasha closed her own drawer, "let's go."

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

Later that day, you were all having dinner together as you went over some papers the others found at the Hydra base. Since you were already in the same place, you split the takeout, taking caution not to spill any of it.

"Cap," you asked, seeing the saltshaker was too far for you to reach, "Can you pass me th-" your words were abruptly cut by him planting it in your hand, going back to whatever it is he was reading.

"Thanks," you muttered, going back to your paperwork as well.

This might be the place to mention that pretty much ever since you joined the team, Steve exhibited a certain… coldness to you. Arrogance, indifference, call it what you want – from day one, Steve Rogers made sure you knew he was better than you.

And considering he was literally Captain America, it's not like you thought you were ever better than him in the first place.

You blended in with the rest of the team seamlessly, fighting and training among them. I mean sure, there were jokes about you being "the new kid", but it was just that – jokes. No one, or at least no one but Steve, seemed to view you as inferior.

You still fought well together, it was your job. Hell, he just passed you the salt before you even finished asking for it. Being attuned to each other's actions and attitude in that way made it all the more obvious how much he seemed to covet his leadership position, his place of dominance.

It got on your nerves. So. Much.

You see, if he were like that to everyone else on the team, so be it. But the absolute majority of it was directed towards you – the new girl. And it was clear that's all he ever saw you as. A girl.

Even that salt thing – he handed it over so impatiently, so suddenly, like one would handle an irritating child.

You had hoped he'd get over it at some point, but so far, that didn't seem to be the case. Well, you're not planning on going anywhere, so you'll both have to get over yourselves at some point.

"Hey!" Steve snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, shaking you from your reverie. "C'mon, listen up. Tony found something."

Oh well, that "some point" is probably not today.

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

"So, Hydra wanted to use this," Natasha gestured at the Tesseract, "To power up a weapon they've designed?"

"That's the gist of it," Tony confirmed. "But from the looks of it, this thing is a lot more powerful than it seems. They planned on powering up a whole armored aircraft, plus all of their rifles using this cube. If that's possible, and by the looks of it, it very well might be, it's a lot stronger than you'd think."

"Wait, what do you mean their rifles as well?" you asked, your brows furrowing, "like, split this thing into pieces?"

"No, it looks like they were planning to project its power somehow, like…" Tony trailed off, struggling to explain.

"Like… Bluetooth?" you suggested.

"Yeah," tony snickered, "pretty much."

"Okay, but they didn't do that yet, right? We stopped them?" you looked around to the rest of your teammates before looking back at Tony.

"Seems like we did," Steve answered instead. "Bruce, any update on how they managed to get it?"

"Didn't hear anything back yet," the man in question shook his head, "I'll try again."

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

When Bruce ended up getting an answer from Thor, telling him to come to Asgard, you immediately volunteered to go with him. It was partially because you've never actually been there, and you were very curious as to why Thor would ask Bruce to come.

But also, you could use a break from a certain Captain.

You tried to ask Bucky and Sam what his deal with you was, several times, but they just shrugged and gave you vague, unhelpful answers. You even considered trying to convince Wanda to just tell you what he thinks about you, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of bothering you so much that you'd stoop that low.

So lately, you've been just trying to avoid him, which usually worked just fine, since it's not like he was that adamant about being around you either. That is, until you said you'd go with Bruce.

"No way," he immediately objected.

"Why?" you asked, "Bruce might need some backup, and I'd like to visit Asgard. Win-win."

"We need you here, going over the papers."

"C'mon Cap, I think we both know I do better out there in the field than I do with all the blueprints. Tony's way better with that, he's the only one who does it anyway."

"So what, you're just gonna go on a field trip?" he sneered.

"No, I'm going to look out for my friend and teammate." It took everything in you to keep your voice level.

"That's nice. Cause it would be a shame if Banner had to watch your back while you went on vacation."

You scoffed. "Where did you even get that idea? I said I was gonna give Banner backup. That's the first thing I said, cause that's the most important thing. End of story."

"Fine." Steve shrugged.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, if Banner's willing to take you with him, go."

"Good," you nodded.

"Great."

Somewhat awkwardly, you shuffled out of the room to tell Bruce to count you in.

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

Natasha was the one to send both you and Bruce off to Asgard, the rest being otherwise occupied.

"Be safe," she told the both of you, holding each of your shoulders with one of her hands, before stepping away.

"We will," Bruce promised and you nodded, and just in time the Bifrost came down, taking the both of you where you needed to get.

Thor was the one to greet you, taking you both in for a warm hug before his face became serious.

"I didn't call you all the way here for nothing," he said, "come with me to the palace."

As you were on your way, he explained. "When you told me you encountered the Tesseract in Midgard, I immediately checked in our vault. Sure enough, there's still a Tesseract there."

"A Tesseract? I thought there was just the one," you frowned.

"We did too," Thor replied, "which is why I wanted you both to come see it for yourselves. Maybe you'd be able to point out some differences."

Getting to the palace, you wasted no time going down to the vault. And there it was – the Tesseract.

"How…" you trailed off. It looked completely identical to the one you had found on earth, the same blue tinted glint lighting up its surroundings.

"That's what I was hoping you might have an answer for," Thor sighed, his brows furrowing. "You said the one you encountered was previously in the possession of a group called… Chimera?"

"Hydra," Bruce corrected him. "And yes, we found it in one of their bases."

"Is it possible that the one we found was a fake?" you asked, lifting your eyes from the Tesseract. "Or maybe this one is the fake? Is there a way to know?"

"The only way to know is to try and use them," Bruce sighed, "but trying to wield the power of an infinity stone can be dangerous and destructive to the one who tries. It's something we should try and avoid."

"Okay," you thought, "can't we try and take this one to earth? See if maybe Tony could run some tests on them both, find us a lead as to which one's the real one?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Bruce agreed, "or at least the best one we've got. Can we take it?"

"Of course. I trust you to guard it," he looked at Bruce fondly.

"Thank you," Bruce's eyes and smile are sincere as he shakes Thor's hand.

You pick up the Tesseract tentatively, putting it in your bag and looking back up at Bruce, whose handshake with Thor was still lingering. You hated to interrupt, but you two needed to go back to earth to fill your friends in if you wanted to solve this mystery.

"Shall we?" you asked, somewhat softly.

"Yeah," Bruce shook his head slightly, "Let's go."

You trailed behind Bruce and Thor as you made your way back to the Bifrost, thinking it over.

If the Tesseract you found on earth was the fake, then why would Hydra have a fake? And if the one that was currently in your bag was the fake, then why would they just leave the real one lying around while the Avengers stormed their base? And at any case, how did they manage to make such an accurate replica?

"Thank you, Thor," you said sincerely once you reached the end of the Bifrost. "We're going to figure this out."

"I know you will," he said, and touched your shoulder affectionately.

You said your goodbyes, and then, you and Bruce started to make the journey home, until suddenly you felt a force push you out of the Bifrost, and before you knew it you landed on dirt, rolling a few times, Bruce landing a few feet away from you.

Hurriedly getting up, you helped Bruce to his feet as well, before the two of you looked around to find yourself in the middle of what seemed to be a desert, but it was like nothing you've seen before.

The sand was orange, red, much darker than it was in deserts you've been to. You and Bruce landed in some sort of valley, surrounded by large dunes of the dark sand, creating a perfect circle around you.

"Have any idea where we are?" you asked, trying to keep your cool, "Or how we got here?"

"I-"

His words were cut off by the sound of a gun cocking behind you. Instinctively, you crouched down and spun around, sending your leg out, taking the man down with a kick to his ankles.

But it wasn't enough. Before you could fully get back up, you and Bruce were already surrounded by agents, and the fight quickly escalated into a hand-to-hand one, having to take on multiple agents at a time. At some point, Bruce hulked out, but even then, you were still fighting them all simultaneously.

You barely managed to take in the glint of a knife from the corner of your eye before the felt the sharp sting of it on your ribs, your hand automatically going to hold the wound. The man started running in the other direction, which was when you realized you weren't the objective of this attack.

Your bag was.

"Bruce!" you yelled, trying to get his attention, as you started trying to run after the agent.

But before Bruce could even notice you, a deep rumble sounded through the air, the prominent crackling of thunder. You turned around just in time to see Thor coming down from the sky, Mjolnir clad tightly in his fist, sending bolts of lightning at your enemies.

You turned back and tried to keep running, but you couldn't do it fast enough, the wound in your ribcage still bleeding, and soon, the agent disappeared from sight.

You were panting when the battle died down, a mere few minutes after Thor's arrival. You didn't turn around, even as you sensed Bruce and Thor approaching you from behind.

"I lost it," you said, still unable to meet their eyes.

"They took it," Bruce said gently. "Now, let me take a look at that wound."

Well, you thought, that's not how Steve's going to see it.

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

"You lost it?" Steve asked, his disbelief clear. His eyes were trained on you, a frown on his face.

"She got hurt trying to protect it, Steve," Bruce answered before you could. "We'll get it back."

Steve's eyes didn't waver from yours, even as Bruce spoke.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted to. You cleared your throat, continuing stronger, "I did everything I could."

"I told you, you shouldn't have gone out there," he sighed, frustrated.

"Really, Cap?" you asked, "is this the time for 'I told you so's? for a hundred-year-old that's really fucking childish," you said through your teeth.

"Watch it," he snapped, "next time, maybe if you listen to me you won't get hurt."

"If I'm that bad of a soldier, Captain," you spat out, "am I not dispensable to you? Why do you even care if I get hurt? I bet it would've been just the same to you if I died but you still had the Tesseract."

Your words rendered him speechless, and you turned to walk towards the med bay. Bruce offered you his arm, but the look you sent him made it very obvious you weren't interested in company.

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

The wound healed well. You and Steve were… civil, to say the best.

You'd admit your words that day you were back from Asgard were harsh. You'd even admit that to his face, if he'd change his attitude towards you. Which he didn't, so really, maybe he deserved to hear them.

Anyways, a few days after the Asgard thing, the wound was fine, and you had an idea.

"Hey," you asked Tony, who happened to be next to you at the moment, "what if we go ask Strange?"

"What?" he looked up from the robot he was currently tinkering with.

"What if we went to Strange to ask him about the Tesseract?" you repeated, "he'd probably know more than us about this stuff."

Tony wasted no time in calling a team meeting, in which you told the others your idea about reaching out to Strange.

"That's a really good idea," Steve said.

Taken aback, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he continued, "I'm coming with you."

Yep, it was way too good to be true.

"Why?" you asked, frowning. "I thought Tony would come, since he's already had a run-in with him before."

"Yes, but I think we can agree he's not the most diplomatic person out there," Steve smirked.

"I'm right here," Tony remarked dryly.

Steve paid him no mind and continued, "And besides, he's pretty much the only one except Bruce that knows enough to figure out Hydra's blueprints, and we still need all hands on deck in that front. So, I'm coming with you," he finished in a tone that left no room for argument.

You considered objecting anyways, but knew whatever you'd say would sound childish and tactless, so you simply nodded at him.

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

Since the Sanctum Dr. Strange usually resided in was in New York, there was no need for Steve and you to take the Quinjet, but you did take a car from Tony's collection, which Steve drove. The car ride was filled with quite the uncomfortable silence, but at least it was better than arguing, right?

Small victories.

When Steve parked the car about a block away from the Sanctum, you both got out swiftly, blending right in with your civilian clothes, and making your way to the doorstep.

There, Steve knocked on the door hesitantly. You both listened, but there was no answer. You held onto the handle and managed to open the unlocked door easily. You exchanged a look with Steve, both of you on high alert, and entered through the door, Steve closing it behind you.

You both silently stood in the threshold, contemplating your next move. Eventually, you took a tentative step forward, and just then a red object whipped right in front of your eyes, making you stumble backwards, right into Steve. You quickly turned around to apologize, but before you noticed it the red fabric was wrapped tightly around your arms, holding them tight against your torso. Steve was in a similar predicament, and since the cape wasn’t that long, you two were left tied face to face and extremely close to each other.

You tried to wiggle out of the fabric's hold, but it was almost like it tightened with your every move, adjusting itself accordingly. You struggled against it, trying to move even the slightest bit, but it wouldn't budge. You sighed, looking up at Steve.

Oh my god, he was way closer than you'd realized. His wide frame towering over you, you swallowed dryly before you whispered, "What now?"

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps carried through the halls, and soon enough, Dr. Stephen Strange was descending down the stairs of the New York Sanctum to greet you.

"Hello," he said, his face indifferent, "I wasn't expecting you."

"Well, we weren't expected to get so… tied up, so that makes three of us," Steve remarked, prompting you to chuckle.

"Hello, Dr. Strange," you introduced yourself to him, "the Captain and I were wondering if you could help us with some… Tesseract trouble."

"Sounds awful," he smirked slightly. "Follow me," he started going up the stairs again and you exchanged a look with Steve. "Oh right," he gestured with his hand, and the red fabric detangled itself from the two of you, and turned out to be a cloak as it wrapped around Strange's shoulders. "I almost forgot," the man chuckled, "Now come on."

You and Steve exchanged another look as you rubbed your arm where the cloak dug into it a little, before following Strange up the stairs and into the library, where he offered you two chairs to sit in before sitting down in front of you. In the air. He was sitting down while floating.

Still less weird than the cloak, in your opinion.

"So," he started, "what, uh, Tesseract trouble are you having, exactly?"

Steve and you took turns explaining the situation to him, from finding a Tesseract in a Hydra base to losing the one that was previously in Asgard. Steve, to your relief and wonder, said nothing about it being your fault, but just said it wasn't in your possession anymore.

"So," you summed up, "we were wondering if you knew how anyone could manage to replicate the Tesseract this well, and how can we tell which one's the fake one. Without using them, of course."

"Well, those are great questions. I don't know of another way to determine if an infinity stone is indeed real besides taking the risk and trying to use it, so I can't help you with that. But as for the fake, I believe opening the Tesseracts will provide a good enough answer. You see, the Tesseract isn't that hard to fake. Might be a little expensive, sure, but some lights and plastic and you're set, and from what I understand Hydra isn't exactly struggling financially. But," he sighed, "you can’t fake an infinity stone. For most people, once you'll come in direct contact with it, you'll feel its power, and also its destructive properties."

"So the only way to know if an infinity stone is real is to risk touching it?" Steve asked.

"As far as I know of, yes," Strange nodded.

"Thank you," you said, "for your help. We sure get back to the compound, but we'll let you know if there are any big developments."

When Steve and you got back to the compound, everyone was already waiting for you, and you told them what Strange told you. Together, you all went to open the tesseract you had found in the Hydra base.

"Be careful not to touch what's inside," you warned, and Tony put of his Iron Man arm before breaking the side of the glowing cube, opening it to find…

A bunch of wires and lightbulbs. They didn't even try to make it look like an infinity stone.

"Well, the one in Asgard could've also been a fake," Natasha shrugged. "This doesn't really tell us anything. C'mon guys, we'll continue the search tomorrow," she touched your shoulder comfortingly before slipping away.

You were about to do the same when you saw Steve fidgeting with his sleeve, around where the cloak was wrapped around him. You walked up to him.

"You okay?" you asked, expecting him to brush you off.

"Yeah, I just think this cape held on a little too strong," he chuckled, removing his hand to reveal a stain on the fabric of his right suit sleeve, on you knew all too well was blood.

"Oh my god," you frowned. "C'mon, I'll help you clean it up," you gestured towards the med bay.

The walk there was brief and silent, and when you got there, you told Steve to sit down before ripping his sleeve enough to see the shallow wound.

"You don't have to do this," Steve said, as you looked for some gauze pad and wet it with water.

"I know," you said, "but since I'm the reason we needed to go there in the first place, I am doing this."

"You know it's not your fault, right? You couldn’t have known he'd have a magical cape that ties up people."

"That's not what I was talking about," you mumbled, before cleaning the wound gently.

Steve sighed. "I guess I do owe you an apology for the Asgard thing. I acted like a jerk. I'm sorry."

"No, you were right," you chuckled bitterly, "it's my fault we lost what might've been the real space stone to Hydra. You were just the only one willing to admit that."

"Well, I hope you know what you said about me then wasn't true. I care. You know, if you get hurt. And I wouldn't want anyone to die so I can have anything."

"I know," you said dryly, "you're too perfect for that."

You finished cleaning the wound and started bandaging it.

"That's not- god, I really do have a way with words, don't I? you probably hate me by now."

"I don't hate you, Steve," you looked up from his arm to his eyes, and he smiled at you. "Relax, it doesn't mean I like you all that much either," you smirked, prompting him to laugh.

"Yeah, that's fair, I guess. Thank you," he gestured to his now bandaged arm.

"Sure," you sent a small smile his way before walking away.

Maybe Steve Rogers wasn't that bad after all.

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

Okay, scratch that, Steve Rogers was the worst.

The conversation actually started out civil. Nice, even.

"Hey, Cap," you started, "do you know if Bruce found anything on the wiring in the fake Tesseract yet?"

"Nope," he turned to face you.

"Oh. Well, thanks," you smiled, "I'll just…" you gestured at the exit, but he stopped you.

"Wait. Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Can you…" he gestured at the empty chair in front of him, and you sat down.

"About the whole Tesseract thing," he started, "I think you should consider sitting this one out."

"What?" you frowned.

"I just…" he sighed, "I think it might be better if you sat this one out."

"Steve, I found the Tesseract in the first place," you said, getting angrier by the second, "I'm not backing down from this."

"You found the fake Tesseract," he corrected, "and lost what might have been the real one."

"I thought you said it wasn't on me."

"It's not, but still."

"I don't get it, a few days ago you were telling me it wasn't my fault and now you're benching me because of it?"

"I just… you're clearly very invested in this-"

"Which is why I deserve to stay on this mission," you cut him off, fighting to keep your voice level.

"Which is why I think you should sit it out," he ignored you, "because you don't need to get yourself hurt for this."

"I'm an Avenger just like you," you snapped, "you might get hurt as well. So might everyone else. I don't get why I'm any different."

"I told you, because you're too emotionally invested," he insisted, his tone rising.

"Oh, you're benching me cause I'm 'emotional'? really? That's your excuse?"

"That's not an excuse, I-"

"No, tell me, Steve, what's your problem with me? Just spit it out, clearly you have one. What have I done to you to make you hate me?" you were yelling now, exasperated at his flawed logic.

"I don't hate you."

"That's all you have to say?" you scoffed. "You know what? If you're letting whatever your problem is with me to get in the way of the mission, maybe you're the emotional one."

The charged atmosphere was interrupted by Natasha's frame showing up in the doorway.

"Hey guys," she started, before looking between the two of you. "Is this a bad time?" she waited a second before shrugging, "Doesn't matter. There are sightings of suspicious activity midtown, we think it can be Hydra. We gotta move, be down in five," she stated, before walking down the hallway, leaving Steve and you alone once more.

"I-" he started.

"Let's go," you said at the same time, before simply turning away to go and suit up. You had a battle to win, no matter what he thought.

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

"So," Tony started once you were all on the Quinjet, "Here's what we know – Hydra is probably in the possession of the real Tesseract, since we just got word of people seeing a big aircraft over midtown. My guess, they wanted to test the new weapons out before using them on a larger scale," he said, "which is why it would be the best thing to stop them now."

You split up into groups, Tony, Wanda and Sam going after the aircraft, Bucky and Steve go one way on the ground, you and Natasha the other. Thanking every god you knew you weren't paired up with Steve, you and Natasha ran and turned into a large square, starting to point people away from the steady stream of Hydra agents that was coming your way.

You and Natasha were both fighting off the agents together, most of the civilians already cleared from the area, when suddenly, they just… stopped, all in unison.

"Avengers," a voice with a heavy accent boomed through the air, presumably from the aircraft, magnified by speakers, "I know what you're here for," the voice chuckled. "Come and get it."

All at once, the Hydra agents in front of you pulled out something from their bags, or the pockets of their jackets, and it took you a second to realize what it is – exact replicas of the Tesseract. Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds.

You looked over at Natasha, who was just as exasperated as you were. "We gotta break these things," she said, and you nodded in understanding, charging at the men and women with renewed energy.

Because this was your chance to fix what you broke, to make things right. To show Steve you're better than your mistakes.

That was the mantra that was going in your head, as you smashed Tesseract after Tesseract, even as you found nothing but wires, you kept repeating it – fix what you broke.

Slowly but surely, you and Natasha tackled and defeated more and more agents, moving closer towards where they were coming from – the aircraft, that was lowering more and more, sending out more agents, in a wave that seemed never ending.

Expect when you got closer, you noticed that there was a staircase going down from it. A staircase that at the top of stood a small an in old fashioned army clothes, holding, how not, a small, glowing cube in his hand.

Your vision zeroed in on him. You had a target.

Barely stopping to disarm the other agents, you quickly made your way through the crowd of agents surrounding you, until you were right at the bottom of the staircase. You looked up to see the man still standing on top, smiling at the chaos unraveling at his feet.

You decided to take advantage of the fact he hasn't seen you yet, and climbed the staircase from the bottom side, hanging on to creases and bumps, to keep the advantage. When you got to the top, you tried to swing yourself over the rails. You would've fallen down if a hand wouldn't have reached out, catching your arm and throwing you back on the staircase, right side up.

"Ah, the new kid," the man snickered above you, "I've heard about you. Were you really the one they sent here?"

"No one sent me," you hissed as you got up. "Now hand over the stone and it'll be much more pleasant for you."

"So much spite," he laughed, "but alas, I don't think I will, sweetheart."

"Whatever you say," you delivered a poignant kick to his knee, "sweetheart."

You tried to punch him, but this time he was quicker, avoiding your blow and landing one of his own on your shoulder. You shrugged it off and continued to try and pry the stone from his hands. The struggle was drawing attention, and Natasha yelled at you to watch out just in time before a Hydra agent from down there shot at you, only missing narrowly.

You continued to fight the man, who was stronger than he let on, considering he was fending you off with only one hand, but you also had getting shot to worry about, which was in his favor.

At last, you managed to knock the Tesseract out of his hand, and it fell to the ground in a shattering sound. Out of the broken pieces, there were no wires to be seen, only a stone.

Bingo.

You heard Steve shout something at you from far down, but you weren't paying attention, instead diving for the stone, grasping it in your hand, along with some shards of glass that cut you, but you couldn't care less, because this was it.

Fix what you broke.

You concentrated with all your might of the stone, its power almost physically throbbing in your hand, along with the excruciating pain, but you didn't care.

Fix what you broke.

Your breathing became labored, the pain near insufferable when you finally did it – opened a portal. You didn't know where it led, but the important thing is, it wasn't here. You threw the stone away with all the power you had left in you, praying it would reach so far you'd never see it again.

Fix. What. You. Broke.

Just in time, the portal closed, and you sighed gratefully. The pain was starting to take over now, your mind dancing on the edge of consciousness when you heard voices coming towards you. You wanted to tell them you were fine, but you found yourself falling to the ground, registering the pain of the fall before everything went black.

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

When you woke up, your first thought was that the light's too bright. It felt almost like a hangover, but way worse, and

"I didn't even drink anything," you said, before breaking into a dry cough.

In a second, Steve was there by your side with a glass of water, holding it to your mouth. You took some small sips until you calmed down enough to remember that while no, you didn't drink anything, you did wield the power of an infinity stone, which means it's a miracle you're even alive.

So really, you should be thankful all you ended up with is an awful hangover. Of sorts. A magical hangover.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, breaking you from your reverie, and making you meet his gaze with yours.

"As much as I can be," you replied, your gaze falling to the blanket that was laid on you. "how long was I out?"

"About 18 hours," he said solemnly, "we didn't… we weren't sure if you'd wake up," he admitted, his voice dropping below a whisper by the end.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," you joked. Despite everything Steve put you through, for some reason you couldn't stand to see him this devastated.

"No, don't-" he sighed, "no one wants to get rid of you. Least of all me. Hell, thinking I'd lost you and it was my fault… hurt more than I could imagine."

"It wouldn't have been your fault, if I, you know," you shrugged, "that was my choice. I had to fix what I broke."

"No, you didn't," he insisted, his eyes snapping up to meet yours once more, "because you didn't break anything. None of this was your fault, and yet you fixed it, alone. You risked wielding the power of an infinity stone to keep earth safe, alone. You shouldn't have been alone."

"It worked out just fine. Besides, what difference would it have made, one more injured person?"

"If I was quick enough… I don't believe the stone could've taken both of us down."

"Us?" you smirked, "I didn't know we were an 'us'. But it's fine, I can deal with that, I guess," you shrugged, and Steve chuckled. You couldn't tell if you were imagining it, but it looked like the slightest of blushes was sprinkled on his cheeks.

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

As a part of getting you back to normal, you started training again, moderately at first. But as you regained your strength, your training was almost as intense as it was before. Or maybe, even more intense.

You see, before that, you weren't training with Steve.

Since you didn't really get off to a good start, you'd always train with the others – Nat, Wanda, Sam… other non-super-soldier humans with a very human self-discipline, meaning that you could take breaks and chat in between reps.

Alas, those days were far behind you. I mean, not that far, that's just kind of dramatic, but you get it; you trained with Steve way more often and it was a nightmare.

You didn't know what standards Steve held for his other friends, but if he's like that with everyone then maybe it was better off not being his friend.

"What was that?" Steve asked, his eyes not moving from the timer, which looked comically small in his large hands.

"I said," you repeated between labored breaths and fast push-ups, "if you're like this with all your friends maybe I was better off not being one."

"Who said you are?" he shot back with a smirk, "and… time!"

You collapsed on the training room mattress, letting out a deep breath. "how much was that?"

"98 pushups in one minute," he stated, "not bad."

"Okay, Mr. captain super soldier," you breathed. "You know, maybe I should go back to doing these with Sam. A human being with normal people achievements," you sighed, faux-dreamily.

"I thought you wanted to get better?" Steve chuckled, extending his hand out to help you off the mattress.

"I'll tell him you said that," you smirked and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your touch lingered for the briefest of moments before you let go of his hand.

"Be my guest," Steve shot back, before taking a couple of sparring staffs off the wall, handing you one. An unusual technique in battle, but you found that practicing them with Steve provided a decent challenge to you both, since you were better with it than he was.

With both of you getting into a fighting stance, you started the match by dashing forward, trying to land one on his shoulder, but he quickly spun to the side, accompanied by a move of his staff that, fortunately for you, was a bit poorly aimed, thus only hit you in the arm.

You continued this back and forth for the next few minutes, one graceful move answered by a steady block from the other side, almost like a delicate dance. After a while, you felt yourself getting a little tired, and knew if you didn't end it now, he'd win.

And well, you just can't give him that kind of satisfaction.

You quickly planted your staff on the ground, using the momentum to jump up and wrap your legs around his neck, using your weight to push him down onto the mattress. You'll have to thank Natasha for that move.

His staff fell from his hand as he hit the floor, and you used your advantage to pin his arms above his head, making sure to lean enough of your weight on his torso so he couldn't move. You were both panting from the exertion of the fight, and you could feel a bead of sweat traveling down your back.

He smirked up at you. "Did Nat teach you that one?"

"Maybe," you raised your eyebrow in amusement. "But I executed it to perfection."

"You sure?" he asked, and before you could answer he broke free from your grasp, flipping the both of you so your torso was pinned below him, catching your arms the same way you did to him moments ago.

Breathing heavily, your tongue darted out to wet your lips. "Well, maybe not perfection," you murmured, "but I'd say I did pretty well. You're in nice shape for a hundred-year-old," you slowly grinned up at him.

"Just nice?" he mock pouted, not moving from his position above you.

"Yeah," you smirked, "from what I've seen."

"Well, maybe you've seen nothing yet," he suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow, his head lowering even closer to yours.

"Maybe," you said softly, standing your ground. His eyes were boring into yours, you could hear the shallow sound of his breath, feel it even.

Closing the distance between you was almost more impulse than an actual aware decision. Your lips met his soft ones, his momentum pushing you back against the mattress, your head hitting it with a soft thud you paid no mind to. One of his hands left yours, coming to cup your cheek as his tongue hesitantly entered your mouth, continuing eagerly when you let out a hum of approval, one of your hand sneaking around his neck and tangling in the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling slightly.

When you finally parted, your breaths were once again labored, but for an entirely different reason now.

"Okay, maybe you are in good shape," you rasped, shrugging as well as you could.

He chuckled before his eyes met yours. "You don't hate me," he stated incredulously.

"I already told you I didn't. I take it back, maybe old age is getting to you," you giggled.

He groaned lightly, making your laughter grow stronger.

Okay, so Steve Rogers wasn't the worst. Final verdict.

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

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anashins · 3 years

Text

No Talking in the Library || Taeyong

"Losing my virginity? Better say taking someone’s virginity. Triple check."

There are still so many things you want to do in your last semester before graduation, and Taeyong is willing to help you.

_______

Skinny dipping

Partying all night long

Drinking hard shots

Dancing on a bar counter

Playing spin the bottle

Getting completely drunk

Attend an illegal rave

Kiss s/o I just met

Ditch classes

You inhaled deeply and tucked the sheet back into your dress’s pocket and out of your sight, your thoughts revolving around the last point you’ve written again.

Losing my virginity

You were already a few months into your last year of university and yet you still felt like you hadn’t experienced everything a normal college kid should have once done in their young lives.

That you hadn’t really lived so far.

Looking at your friends, they had left you behind a long time ago in the first semester already when it came down to checking off bucket lists. It wasn’t like you were too shy or stayed away from parties and boys, though. The opportunity just had never arisen, and only now you realized that it probably never would if you wouldn’t take fate into your own hands.

You were sick and tired of waiting for the perfect moment and the perfect guy.

Looking at your watch, you realized it was nearly time for your next class and that you slowly had to get going.

Passing by different bookshelves, you were pondering whether to still search for lecture here in the library to read through the weekend in preparation for the project you had to work on the next week, but you quickly resisted the urge to do so as you had already collected enough and headed straight to the door.

“Watch out!” you still heard before the next thing you felt was pain crippling your face.

Only the break of a second was needed before numbness turned into pain and shot through your nerves that even reached the tips of your fingers with the root of the ache being your nose.

“Oh my god!” you squealed and brought your hands to the middle of your face while tears welled up behind your squinted eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” a male voice said, full with panic.

When you dared to open your lids, you looked into the eyes of the guy who had banged the entry door right into her face.

“You nearly killed me!”

“I’m so sorry, y/n!”

When he mentioned your name, you turned keen-eared. Blinking through your tears, you slowly started to get a sharper view of the boy in front of you as well. Just slightly taller than you, dark hair, and an expression as shocked as yours.

You just didn’t know his name anymore.

“Does it hurt that bad? Shall we go to the ward to get a cooling pad or something?”

You shook your head and slowly brought your hands down again. The guy had a hard time biting down the smile that threatened to slip off his lips. With care, he touched your arm in a comforting gesture to reassure you.

“I’m sorry, but you totally look like Rudolph the reindeer now.”

You sniffed. “Yes, thanks to you!”

“Okay, that’s true,” he admitted and retreated his hand. “How about I make it up to you, hm?”

“Uh…” You stared at him, yet you still weren’t able to classify his familiar face.

“Hey!” You suddenly got interrupted by the library’s supervisor, a middle-aged woman who was always wearing a frown and owned the hearing of a bat. “No talking in the library! Go inside or leave, but this door has to be closed, understand?”

You nodded, and the guy made a move to pass by the librarian, but not without whispering to you “Come here!” before you disappeared into the library again, the door closing shut behind you.

Having you by his arm, he dragged you along the rows of bookshelves until he found a quiet corner in the very far back of the library. All the while when you were looking at his back, you tried to remember where you knew him from.

And then it suddenly came into your mind.

When you opened the group convo with your friends, his face would appear right next to the unsaved contact that your friend Johnny had added two days prior.

It was Lee Taeyong.

Johnny, Ten, and Jaehyun’s new roommate who you had also met once before at Johnny’s birthday party last week.

“Hey, at least your nose is not red anymore, huh?” he laughed when he came to a hold.

“Banging a door into my face again, Taeyong?” you asked back. “I have to admit, this is kind of a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“You know my name! Admittedly, even just now I wasn’t so sure whether you remembered.”

“That was true, but once the pain vanished and I looked at your back, that scene seemed very familiar to me.”

He grinned. “Johnny’s birthday party, yes, I banged a door into your face back then as well. I’m sorry, I am actually a gentleman, I just didn’t have a chance to prove it yet. I hope this isn’t becoming our thing now.“

“You mean… you banging doors into my face? I hope not, because you actually seem like a nice guy, and otherwise I have to do a runner right now. I’d like to live a few years more.”

“My roommates wouldn’t like the thought that I scared their friend away, so let’s keep this a secret, alright?”

He winked and you laughed. You liked his humor very much and were wondering why you two hadn’t talked before at Johnny’s party.

„Oh, what’s this?“

Taeyong lifted his hand and picked up something white from the floor. He inspected his finding and then frowned. The next moment, he presented something to you that hadn’t been supposed to get seen by anyone else aside from you. The sheet. Apparently it had fallen out of your pocket while hurriedly walking!

You blushed up to her ears and snatched it out of his hand. “Don’t read this!”

He shrugged. “Well… it was quite hard not to miss the significant writing while picking it up, so…”

“Ugh…” You rolled your eyes into oblivion and wished for a hole to appear right under you to vanish in there right now.

You felt your ears burning and a hot flush running down your back as you remembered the last point you had written down. A stranger knowing about your virgin life! Embarrassing!!

“Do you… actually mean this?”

“Mean what?” you questioned with a shaky voice.

You hadn’t heard the slightest tone of mockery in his voice, you then noticed, and when you dared to look at him again, his gaze was even radiating curiosity, far from scorn.

“The points on this list.”

“Please don’t make fun of me!” you defended yourself. “You don’t know me or why I did this in the first place, so…”

You wanted to quickly pass by him and escape from the scenery, but he grabbed you by your arm and made you stop.

“What I know,” he then spoke, “is that you’re a kind and funny girl, apparently looking for the full college experience, am I right? I would never make fun of someone for that.”

“Okay… thank you. And I’d prefer if you won’t tell anyone about that.”

“That’s a given.”

“So… having checked off anything yet?“

You shook her head, suddenly feeling a weird knot in your stomach. “I just made this today. But now that someone knows about it, it’s probably ridiculous.”

“I don’t think that it’s ridiculous. You just want some fun, what’s so wrong about that?”

You hadn’t looked at this from another point of view, but now Taeyong was giving you his perspective. And he sounded so nonchalant and positive about it that you suddenly didn’t feel as exposed and embarrassed as before.

“You know what I think?” he then blurted out.

“What?” Now, you grew curious.

“I think you need someone to guide you through it, and many more experiences. Go hard or go home.” He grinned. “Someone who’s done all that already.”

“And you’re such a person?” you challenged.

“Let me see.”

Taeyong took the sheet from you again and read through the list. “Skinny dipping? Check. Partying all night long? Every weekend. Drinking hard shots? Also every weekend. Dancing on a bar counter? Double check, except for that one time I fell off. Playing spin the bottle? Boring, but check. Getting completely drunk? More checks than I can remember. Attend an illegal rave? Double check. Kiss someone I just met? I’m not counting this one anymore. Ditch classes? At least once a month. Losing my virginity? Better say taking someone’s virginity. Triple check.”

“Okay I understand!” You yanked the paper out of his hand again. “You probably had a few years to experience all this, and I only have the rest of my senior year left.”

“Why the rush?” Taeyong asked.

Reluctantly, you answered, “I’m leaving the country for my PhD.”

He nodded. “I see.”

Folding the sheet in your hands, you tucked it back into your pocket. “But please don’t tell the guys, I haven’t opened up to them about my future plans yet, but I want to tell them personally when the time is right.”

“Of course.” Taeyong paused. “Well, then what’s stopping you from joining a party with me tonight to get started?”

“The fact that I barely know you yet?”

“Hm, of course, you’ve got a point.” Taeyong pursed his lips and seemed to ponder over something. “Why haven’t we really talked before though at Johnny’s birthday party?”

“I really cannot remember what happened after you’ve banged the door into my face.” You chuckled. “I probably went to cry in the bathroom and then we’ve just lost sight of each other, because you haven’t found a weird sheet from me like today.”

“So… Since you only could remember me just now, we can technically say we’ve just met, right?”

“I’d sign that.”

“Great.”

You barely had time to wonder why he was grinning from ear to ear yet again when you felt Taeyong’s lips on yours the next moment.

They were soft and warm, his movements gentle at first, and he tasted so fresh and minty, and a little bit sweet as though he had drunk some fruit juice just before. Very summerly, and very manly.

His sudden kiss had left you speechless as well as motionless in the beginning, but you, now in high spirits, started to take pleasure in this act not long after his first move as you leaned against him and were welcomed with open arms.

Taeyong was a very handsome guy, there was nothing to deny about that fact, and he was a good kisser on top of that.

His hands made your body angle so that he could circle his arms around your waist and pressed you firmly against him. With your hands, you wandered upwards and sunk your fingers into his fluffy hair just in the moment Taeyong made you part your lips to deepen the kiss with his tongue.

Of course you had kissed boys before. Just because you were still a virgin didn’t mean you had never made out with someone.

But you had never made out with someone this good before.

Although you had gotten a door into your face shortly before, you weren’t so sure whether it was truly only the aftereffects of a possible head injury or Taeyong’s uninterrupted, passionate and oh-so-good kissing or both that got you feel so lightheaded and dizzy.

But what you knew was that you were enjoying that kiss very much.

And that you wanted more.

And Taeyong apparently as well as he proved it to you when his hands curved against your buttocks, and he gently shoved you backwards until your back rested against the wall behind you.

With his fingers, he felt the tender and glowing skin under your shirt’s bottom hem, massaging the spot there lightly as your hands simultaneously grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him so close to you that no sheet would fit in the slit between you two anymore.

Secretly kissing in the library hadn’t been written down on your agenda, but you took whatever you could get to make your last semester a memorable one.

This was so fun to you that you started to think that this bucket list that you had made wasn’t that much of a bad idea after all if every single one of the experiences would leave you that excited as kissing Taeyong.

When you parted, he was still wearing that grin that now seemed more sweet than smug to you, and you joined him.

“Kiss someone you just met? Check.”

“Well, then our meeting here didn’t go to waste after all,” you concluded.

Admittedly, you wanted more. And by the way Taeyong looked at you, still so turned on and dreamy, he didn’t seem to loathe that idea as well.

“How about putting another point up that list?”

“Such as…?” You tilted your head.

“Making out with someone you’ve just met at a party?”

You playfully looked away as though you were in deep thoughts, but to you, the answer was clear the moment he had proposed the idea to you. “I think that’s an experience I shouldn’t miss as well.”

Just as Taeyong let out a relieved laughter and leaned in to you again, you heard a familiar,

“No talking in the library!”

In front of them stood the librarian with the worst timing ever.

“Technically, we weren’t talking,“ Taeyong cleared up cheekily as he withdrew from you, and you nodded in approval.

The librarian though looked confused.

The wink Taeyong shot into your direction was only visible for you, and you blushed faintly as you agreed, “Yeah, we were anything but talking.”

„But I heard you!“ the elderly woman scolded.

“Well, we did something much more fun than talking,” Taeyong explained, but before the librarian could chide more, you laughingly escaped to the outside.

„So about the party…“ he then started as the library’s door closed behind you. „Since we’re technically no strangers anymore…“

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. „Perhaps, I’ll come to the party.“

„And then move on to check off the other points?“ He smirked.

You stuck your tongue out at him, but were really looking forward to tonight.

#taeyong #lee taeyong #nct scenarios #nct imagines #taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #nct127 scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop x you #kpop x reader #nct taeyong #taeyong au #my writing #imagine

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sweetwolfcupcake · 3 years

Text

Allurement: Decorum

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

Elated' would be an understatement to describe what Namjoon's heart was dancing to. It was euphoria, pure bliss, such blinding passion that he wished to take her then and there. But he was a patient man, and he knew how to play the right cards to achieve his ends. She was in his arms, sooner than expected, and at the moment, it was more than enough. It was so rare to have a slip-up benefit him like that. He was, after all, a man of planning and analysis.

She had slept with her belly barely-filled, but the Chamomile tea at least helped her to have a sound sleep, Namjoon knew that the day had been hard on her. And he did not want her to exhaust herself. But it was her mother, and Namjoon knew that he could not prevent her from doing everything she could to save her mother. Namjoon understood her pain, but he was amazed by her courage. She knew that her mother would die soon but she did not break, she had kept going with her life. And for this, Namjoon was proud of her.

"No disrespect to you would ever go unpunished, Darling," he whispered to her while his fingers ran through her tresses

-----

"Mr Yang, welcome, please take a seat." the very next day, Mr Yang, one of the Kims' important business partners had been invited to his office.

The older man smiled and took a seat, at the approaching twilight of his life, he had given up most of his company's control to his sons, who more or less, loved to gamble out the stocks, profits and shares. Namjoon partially pitied the man, and he knew that Mr Yang probably pitied himself as well, but that was the last of his concerns at the moment.

"Good morning, Mr Kim, how are you? I hope that there is no disappointing news to hear first thing in the morning?"

Namjoon chuckled at his words and shook his head "I assure you, Mr Yang, there would be no such disappointments. Have some faith in me, dear Sir."

"Trust me, Mr Kim, I have more faith in you than my own blood." even though the ageing man laughed, it had a bitter tinge to it.

"I wished to discuss some issues regarding decorum with you, Mr Yang." he began, dropping his tone slightly. "I was reminded of its importance at your party the other day."

Mr Yang frowned "Why, did you not enjoy yourself? You even left the party too early, I had noticed."

"Your parties and events are worth missing meetings and deals, I must say. However, as you know, I put the utmost priority on my employees' safety and comfort. Sadly enough, it had been compromised at your party the other night, it was, otherwise, a lovely event I must say."

"Why? What had happened? Please tell, offending a Kim could never be my intention." Namjoon's smile was cold and tight-lipped.

"As you know, I had arrived there with my secretary as my companion. And of all, I had not expected Miss Yang Baram to make my secretary uncomfortable, to mock her- to the point that my secretary wished to leave the place immediately- and of course, a responsible employer, I could not decline. Such attitude towards my employee is unacceptable" Namjoon sighed inaudibly before bringing his hands together on the desk "Of all the people, Mr Yang, I had not expected Yang Baram to be so...Impolite,"

"I am terribly sorry for the unfortunate occurrence, Mr Kim, making any guest in the party uneasy had never been my intention, trust me, I will surely speak to Baram," Mr Yang had a heavy frown settled over his forehead, the man was evidently uncomfortable, and his niece had probably added to his heavy bag of disappointments.

"I know, Mr Yang, that is why I had decided to have word with you, and request that Yang Baram's involvement with our joint project be expelled, that would be enough. Of course, the companys' relation and the project's momentum shall remain unaffected." this time, Namjoon's sharp smile greeted him, the man sighed and nodded, he did not have much of a say in the matter, his company would go bankrupt if the Kim Group of Companies withdrew its name from the project.

"Sure, sure, Mr Kim, you have my word. I will talk to Baram, and I assure you that such disrespect to your company or employees would not be met from our side. You have my word."

"I know Mr Yang, you have my confidence, but an official declaration would do, I am still answerable to the Board after all." Mr Yang nodded with an uneasy smile at his words "Thank you for giving your precious time to me, Sir." he said as Mr Yang rose from his seat.

The man greeted him before exiting the office. While Namjoon leaned on his comfortable chair before making a call for a cup of tea. He did not like coffee in his Darling's absence.

****

Taglist(Kindly remind me if I have missed anyone)- @whatpageisthis @amoc94 @theresa-nam-nam-me @dearbambideer @casualminiaturetimemachine @njrwifey @kpopisnicee @illnevertrustmyselfagain @potterbrooke @luvaffaire @bighitfics @mochimochipie @vixenwerr @minshookie29 @sepulcry @omgsuperstarg @rkive-diary @Iyoongx

#yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere namjoon #yandere rm #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere ceo namjoon #yandere rm x reader #yandere dom namjoon x innocent reader #yandere ceo namjoon x reader #yandere dom namjoon #allurement

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merci-bitch · 4 years

Text

Her Lover

Alma LeFay Peregrine x fem!reader

Warnings: abuse, swearing, death, fluff, angst

Words: 5k

A/N: it’s been a while, hasn’t it. Lol. I’ve been having my exams and shit and I’ve been working on this for the longest time so I’m really sorry if there’s a word that’s not supposed to be there, I don’t really proof read. But hopefully more stuff shall be coming soon. Ta ta! Xx

Jake was surprised, it was all real. What his grandfather had told him, all those stories. They were real. It was unbelievable. At first, when he saw the boomed children's home he didn't really believe it. As that man said at the pub. 3 September 1943. No one survived, but then how come Miss Peregrine's letter had only come 2 years before to his grandfather. How was that even possible?

When we first entered the loop, he of course ran away and nearly got himself killed. Thankfully his new friends saved him from those angry Walsh people. The house looked so different from those ruins he saw. It was actually a very beautiful house. Big and tall and all those flowers growing up on the sides. Completely different.

Miss Peregrine wasn't anything like he'd expected. Not at all, despite from all the stories he'd got from his grandfather. Apparently she was the bird flying above him and his father when they first arrived to Cairnholm. Ever since Jake arrived, he'd notice that on the bird's right hand, her ring finger. There was a small ring with a single diamond. Jake knew it wasn't probably wasn't his thing to ask, but he didn't see anyone else then the people he'd already seen. His grandfather had never really mentioned anything or anyone else then the ones he'd already talked about.

He had helped Emma with the baby squirrel, it was a bit awkward wrapping the rope around her waist. He'd noticed Miss Peregrine's glare, it was uneasy. As if she felt some sort of jealousy? But that was ridiculous. Absurd. Jake had agreed to join them for supper. Emma was helping him in his grandfather's old room. He just couldn't but ask.

"Emma, could I ask you a question?"

"Jake, I told you that there are questions I can't answer." Emma said as she tied his tie.

"I know, but it's just. Does Miss Peregrine love you? Like, that way?"

Emma stilled. Almost uncomfortably.

"Jake. What's got you to even think of such disgusting things?!"

"I'm sorry! It's just, I saw her glare." Jake held his hands up in defeat.

Emma let out a sigh. Looked down before looking up again. "You must understand. Miss Peregrine, well all of us lost someone dear. It's taking her long time to actually get back to who she is. So please, stop asking questions." As she finished speaking the bell rang. They both walked down together and Jake almost sat down on Millard.

"Millard. Go and put some clothes on. Polite persons do not take their supper in the nude."

Jake almost felt sorry for him, he didn't mean to take his place really. He couldn't see him, obviously. He was, well he is invisible. During dinner, he couldn't help but stare at Miss Peregrine's right hand with that ring. Her long slim fingers with those long nails. The ring was silver. The small diamond was pretty. And shiny.

"Claire, why aren't you eating?" Miss Peregrine asked, looking with worry to Claire. Chewing on the piece of food.

"She's embarrassed in front of Jake." Hugh said, leaning over to Claire.

Jake shook his head. "Don't be. Please."

Claire looked over at Miss Peregrine with a small smile and Miss Peregrine sent Claire a wink before turning back to her own food. Claire grabbed the chicken leg and put it behind her head and a few seconds later she put the clean bone back on her plate.

"So Jake, what's your peculiarity?" Horace asked. Leaning over the table a bit to see Jake as he asked.

"Oh, I'm not peculiar." Jake stammered.

Enoch put down his fork and knife and said, "And that, my friends, is why he will not be staying with us. No matter how hard we try to persuade him."

Miss Peregrine spoke up again. Her voice light but firm. "We've spoken about this. Jake is just visiting."

Hugh opened his mouth, "He might want to say."

"Don't you want to stay, Jake?" Olive asked.

"Tonight? Or..-" Jake didn't get a chance to finish of his sentence before Claire irrupted him.

"Forever! You should stay forever." Her smile big.

"Why would he, if he doesn't have to? He can live out there, grow older, have a good time instead." Enoch said. Trying to make a clear point of why he didn't want Jake in the house. Jake could feel Emma slightly lift from her seat despite being strapped down. She was getting uncomfortable.

"He'll leave, just like his grandfather did." With that, Enoch started eating again and Emma got up and practically ran out of the room despite her heavy shoes. Miss Peregrine's call for Emma didn't stop her. As Emma left, a clothed Millard came into the room. Excusing himself. Sitting down and starting to eat his own food.

"Deep breathes Alma, you know how dear Enoch gets with new company."

Miss Peregrine closed her eyes at the voice inside her head. She was right. She slowly got up as the telephone rang. "I think you should all get ready for movie time while I answer that."

"But you always let us stay for it." Claire begged. Miss Peregrine turned around and gave the children a glare that almost scared Jake. She was a strange woman, yes she was. Miss Peregrine stepped out to the hallway, to the ringing telephone. This time, she nearly didn't answer it. Wishing the voice inside her head would come back. Missing the touch of that person with the voice nearly threw her off guard. She nearly kicked herself from going off schedule. Shaking her head, she answered the telephone and went on with the schedule.

The time went on, again. Horace's projected his dreams. One particular dream made Alma tense up. She couldn't watch it. She turned on the lights and heard all the groans from the children. It was almost re-set time. Olive asked Jake to stay and see the re-set. Enoch clearly didn't want him to. Alma felt herself chuckle softly. The arguments between Enoch and re-set. Alma stepped out in her raincoat and put on her gas mask after putting on the music. Run Rabbit Run. She would always sing along to the song-Alma kicked herself mentally again. She stopped her clock, she turned it 24 times to represent the 24 hours of the loop. She took of the gas mask and smiled towards her children.

She said her goodnight to the other children as Emma and Jake made their way out the door. Her smile faded as they disappeared from her view. She closed the door, knowing Emma would lock it. She slowly made her way up the stairs, to the end of the hallway, to her bedroom. She opened the door and walked in and closed the door again and locked it. Leaning against the door and closing her eyes.

"You know me better then I do. Can't seem to keep nothing from you. How you touch my soul from the outside. I still love you even though I'm scared. Learning to be grateful of myself. I wish I could love me like you did, how I wish I could trust myself like you did."

She moved from the door and towards her desk and sat down and started unpinning her hair. Brushing through her hair slowly. That black-blue hair. The little curls. She got undressed and dressed in her lacy nightgown and brushed her teeth and took off the makeup she'd been carrying during the day. She laid down in the cold bed, shivering slightly. Falling asleep after a few minutes.

***

"Clarice! Clarice come on. We have to get back. We can't stay in La Pari forever. We've been gone 7 years too long!" Claire let out a groan and stopped walking. "But Y/N! I love Paris!" Y/N shook her head. Her little sister was definitely a number. "Well, you wrote to Alma we'd be home, so let's go." Clarice didn't move. "I? I didn't write. She's your wife." Y/N felt herself tense up. Oh no. Y/N had forgotten to write, and she'd hopped her darling sister had written.

"When was the last time You wrote back home Clarice." Y/N looking over at her sister, with a glare almost identical to Alma's. Clarice bit her bottom lip. "5 years ago." Y/N felt her head spinning. She sat down and rubbed her forehead. Clarice started laughing. "What's so funny?!" Clarice threw her head back in laughter.

"Oh lord, the handful you will get when you get back. I mean Abe will definitely be in her side." Clarice said while patting her older sister's shoulder. "God. She'd kill me. I swear, I didn't mean to forget and I thought you'd been writing." Clarice shook her head. "But you're right. Let's go home."

***

"Jake, you're back. How wonderful." Miss Peregrine said as she held the Ymbryne tight to her.

"How's it doing?" Jake asked. "Emma said it was an Ymbryne."

"She. Not 'it'. Ymbrynes are always female." Miss Peregrine said as she looked up at Jake. "And Emma was quite correct. This is Miss Avocet." Miss Peregrine continued to give Miss Avocet the medicine.

"Her loop's in Blackpool, England." Jake said. Miss Peregrine slowly turned her head up towards him and saw him holding a piece of paper. "That was a private letter, Jake." She said as she put down the medication.

"Who is Mr. Barron?" Jake asked, slightly raising his voice.

Miss Peregrine's face expression turned blank and her right hand came almost protectively over Miss Avocet.

"Miss Peregrine, if my grandpa was involved with dangerous people. I need to tell the police." Miss Peregrine looked up at Jake again, her brows knitted with confusion.

"Police? Are you implying Abe died an unnatural death?" Her voice going quiet.

"I found him in the woods, with his eyes missing. I'd say that was pretty unnatural." Jake said as he watched Miss Peregrine raise from her chair. Miss Peregrine looked at Jake in disappointment, snatching the letter out of his hands.

"Unless essential, I don't discuss unpleasant matters. An Ymbryne's duty is to protect children, Jake." With that, she left the room, almost in a hurry.

"I'm not a child! He wanted you to tell me everything!" Jake shouted after her. Jake let out a sigh of frustration and walked down the hallway and was stopped when both Enoch and Olive came into his view.

"Oh. How frustrating for you. Between Miss Peregrine's rules and my housemates' little pact not to scare you off, it's like no one's telling you anything." Enoch was sarcastic. Olive stood quietly behind him. Jake leaned forward.

"Why don't you, then? It's not like you want me here."

This time, Olive spoke up.

"Enoch, you can't. You promised." Enoch looked back at Olive before answering.

"Olive's right. I do know someone who can get away with breaking rules though. Want to meet him?" Jake looked a bit uneasy at Enoch before following him up the stairs. Olive behind them.

"Enoch, don't do this. Please!" She grabbed his arm, begging him not to do whatever he was going to do.

"You want to spend time with me and Jake, we can all play together. That's what you said." Enoch said as they reached a door at the end of the hallway. Olive stood in front of them. Not letting them pass through the door.

"Well, here we all are." Enoch said. Olive looked up at him with a bit ready expression. "Move Olive."

"If you're going to be like that, then I don't want to be your friend." With that, Olive left. Sobbing quietly to herself while walking down the hallway.

"Enoch, leave Victor alone. It really upsets Bronwyn." Fiona said as she walked up to Enoch and Jake. Enoch put both his hands on Fiona's shoulders, "Stop fussing, Fiona. Don't you think Jake should meet everybody?" He said while looking over at Jake.

"He's trying to frighten you away, Jake. He's always jealous of Abe. And now he's jealous of you. Come and play with us instead."

Enoch crossed his arms and looked at Jake, waiting for an answer. Jake didn't really know what to say.

"I'd quite like to meet Victor." Jake said after some time. Enoch smiled and ruffed Fiona's hair. Enoch opened the door, letting Jake walk in. "After you."

In the middle of the room there was a bed, covered in thin layers of fabric, and Jake saw Victor, lying there. He slowly walked in, moving with small steps towards the bed.

"Hello, Victor. I'm Jake. I'm sorry to disturb.." Jake looked down at Victor. His eyes were missing.

"Yeah, he can't hear you." Enoch said. Enoch got on his knees and opened Victor's shirt and put the heart he held down into Victor's chest. Jake saw how Victor's chest started to heavy. Almost like a jump scare in movies, Victor sat up and looked over at Jake.

"Hello, Jake. I'm Victor. Do you want to know what killed me?" Almost like a puppet he was. It scared Jake and he ran out of the room, downstairs where Miss Peregrine and the rest of the children were waiting.

"Ah, there you are. Is Enoch with you? It'd time for our daily walk." Miss Peregrine said.

***

Alma walked into the room where Victor lay. Sighing once seeing Victor's covers down. She pulled them up, making sure they covered him and slowly sat down. Noticing the tear falling down his cheek. Softly wiping it away and pulling him up and held him against her chest.

One of the most disappointing things she'd ever done. How she couldn't be able to save Victor, how she'd let her poor child die. She never meant for him to die, she never meant for Bronwyn to lose her brother. Alma felt herself tear up.

"It's alright Alma, you did what you could and for that, Victor will forever be grateful."

She really wanted to believe those words. Oh, how hard life could be. She couldn't let herself to cry. She'd always say it was alright to cry, but Alma just couldn't. She slowly put Victor back in his place and looked at her watch. She had a few minutes before the children would be back, but she had to keep schedule.

Alma walked out of the room, closing the door. Walking down the hallway to the right and then further down that hallway and then into her own bedroom. Closing the door behind her, locking it. Just in case. She quickly walked over to the dressed against the wall, opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt that didn't belong to her.

Sticking her nose deep into the fabric, closing her eyes and breathing in the familiar sent. Holding onto the shirt tightly. Alma felt her eyes sting.

Why did life have to be so cruel? Why couldn't just one person live a life and be happy. Is it only fairytales that get their happy endings and not people in the real world? Was the 'perfect' life all just a big lie that you were told on the television outisde loops? Why couldn't you just live yourself in your dreams? Wouldn't life be so much better if you could? It would save all troubles from people.

Alma slowly sat down on the bed. Still holding the shirt tightly to her. Breathing in the sent again. Letting her eyes roll back for just a second. Accidentally losing herself in the sent. Letting a soft moan escape her mouth which caused her to blush. Hand covering her mouth as she blushed even more.

"My shirt hm?"

Alma turned around with a gasp. No one was there, she let out a sigh. Alma got up again, checked her clock and put the shirt back in the drawer and walked downstairs. Waiting for the children to arrive back home.

***

"Clarice, where was the loop again?"

"You can't be serious. We lived with Alma for years, you're married to her for gods sake!" Clarice sat down in the damp grass, crossing her arms. Letting out a huff.

"Awh, stop acting like a bloody kid! Maybe help me instead of acting like such a bloody moron!" Y/N answered to her sister.

She let out a huff and sat down on a rock. Y/N felt bad. She'd been gone 7 years too long and Alma probably thought she was dead. Just because her little sister didn't write as she used to. Y/N reaches into her pocket and pulled out a few photos. Photos she took, before she left.

Most were of Alma. It was one of the only times she'd let her time be taken from her. She missed the bird.

"Could you stop sobbing and perhaps do something to help? You cant stare at th-hey. Y/N. Was that Abe?"

Y/N looked up and saw nothing. She turned to her sister and hit the back of her head.

"Very funny."

***

The children were packing after they're realisation that they couldn't stay. As Alma had finally gotten the suitcase to close, thanks to the twins, the doorbell rang. How odd. She hadn't expected anyone. Alma walked up towards the door and opened the door and felt her whole body tense.

"Miss Peregrine, what a pleasure to meet you at last!"

Mr. Barron was holding his hand shaped knife against Jake's neck. Alma felt her breathing stop for only a second. What on earth was happening?!

"May we come in?"

Alma took a few steps back, letting him inside the house. Her children standing on the stairs.

"Children! Would you make your way down the stairs, please?" Mr. Barron shouted.

Alma raised her voice. "I give the orders in this house, Mr. Barron." Looking at him sternly.

"Not today. You should know that Jake has served his purpose. If you value his life, I suggest everyone does as they're told. Children!"

Alma raised her finger and shushed him. "No one tells my children what to do!" Alma turned around, a split of disgust in her expression. "Children, come down here, please." Her voice was strong but soft.

The children made their way slowly down the stairs.

"Miss Peregrine-"

"I thought I told you to be quiet." Alma snapped back at him. Giving him one of her famous death glares. She slowly made her way around again to look at her beautiful children. Knowing she might never see them again.

"Children, for Jake's safety, we're going to do what Mr. Barron asks. He wishes to take me with him to his rendezvous in Blackpool. So, for his protection, he'd like me to assume bird form, preferably caged. And he'd like you to make your way into a lockable room, such as the parlour." Alma turned her frame towards the parlour then back to her children before turning around to look at Mr. Barron.

"As he won't release Jake if he fears an attack could be mounted upon him once he loses his leverage. Correct, Mr. Barron?" Alma raised her chin, showing how she awfully despised him. Mr. Barron was at loss of words.

"You're sacrificing yourself and all of us, for Jake?"

Came behind her, Alma turned around and looked at Enoch.

"Me. Barrons travels with a Hollow, Enoch. Once it arrives here, we're all dead." She could almost feels Mr. Barron's wicked grin behind her. Alma saw Horace lean in to whisper something to Enoch but didn't bother to listen. It took everything not to shed a tear. She'd lost everything now. The woman she loved the most, her dear children. Everything.

She moved towards the parlours door and said her goodbye to each child that passed her, ending with a hug from Emma and the twins which made her she'd a tear. Once every child was inside the parlour, she grabbed the door handle to each door and took a deep breath and looked over her children.

"It's been my privilege, to care for you all. Goodbye my children."

Alma closed the doors and turned the lock and turned to face Barron, showing her anger through her tear stained cheeks. Taking steps forward.

"Now let him go."

"Oh, but the fun's just begun Alma." Barron let out a low chuckle.

"How dare you speak my name, filthy bastard." Alma tightened her tone. Growing more impatient by each second that passed.

Barron let out another chuckle, this time of surprise.

"My my, what words those pretty lips let out. Tell me, how's dear old Y/N doing?"

Alma clenched her jaw. Feeling as she might explode.

"How dare you speak her name?! How dare you come here, act like you own everything I have. You took her from me! How dare you mention anything of her's. I know what you did to her family, how her parents practically coward before you. On their knees begging to not die. Letting their dear children's lives pay their depth."

As Alma continued, Barron only chuckled. Jake was confused. Who was Y/N? What did this woman mean to Miss Peregrine?

"Technically I wasn't the one who sold her, her mother was. Her dear parents are still loyal to me as ever. I'd never gotten a chance to meet dear Y/N. So tell me, where is she?"

This time, it was Alma's time to be confused.

"What do you mean by that. No tricks Mr. Barron. I want the honest truth."

As he let Jake go, letting out a groan. "Listen, lady. I'd never meet her. If I had, do you think I'd be asking you? So come now Miss Peregrine. Where is she. Her mommy and daddy just wanna say hello."

Alma felt herself start to tremble. Y/N hadn't been in Barron's possession.

She'd spoken to Jake. Begging him to care of her children before turning into bird form. Flying into the cage. Leaving with Mr. Barron. If her dearest was really alive, she'd never see her again. Nor her beloved children.

***

"Emma, I have a question. Look-I know you don't answer them but it's about something Miss Peregrine said before she turned into a bird. Who's Y/N?"

Emma went quiet for a moment, not really wanting to speak. Jake let out a sigh and continued to talk.

"Mr. Barron said he'd never meet Y/N before. What does this mean-who is she?" Jake looked t Emma who's eyes looked at his. A slight tone of happiness appearing on her face.

"So, that means she could still possibly be alive." Emma's smile got bigger.

"Who is she? Is she another peculiar?" Jake was growing impatient.

Emma sighed. "Alright, if I tell you. Will you stop asking?"

Jake nodded his head and sat down and waited for Emma to speak.

"Y/N came to our home years ago, before Miss Peregrine had made the loop. She came with her sister Clarice. When they came they were both pretty young. I think Clarice was 15 and Y/N perhaps 20. I heard Miss Peregrine talk with them about what had happened to them. It wasn't really, nice."

Emma sat down herself and took a deep breath.

"Mr. Barron came to their house, in the middle of the night and killed their brother, well took his eyes. He was around 8. She talked about how their parents had sold them to Barron for their own safety. But before Barron could touch them they'd ran away. They'd taken the boat and arrived here."

Jake listened as she explained more about Y/Nk's past. But there was just one question bothering him.

"What about the ring on Miss Peregrine's finger?" Jake asked.

"Y/N and Miss Peregrine kinda fell for each other. A few years after the loop was created, they got married. Then again a few years later, perhaps 7 years ago. Both of them left, Y/N and her sister. But after two years they stopped writing back home. We heard nothing from them and since Barron wanted to recreate the experiment Miss Peregrine told you about.”

Jake nodded, shocked. He had nothing against the LGBT community but he’d never thought Miss Peregrine was a lesbian. Perhaps she wasn’t, maybe just fell for the one person she trusted most.

They went on, the plan to save Miss Peregrine.

***

“Clarice, fix it. Please. Something has happened.”

Y/N was panicking. The loop was gone, not a child in sight. Alma wasn’t here either. Clarice had the peculiarity of restoring time, she restored the loop. Made everything go back to normal. The house looked itself again but no child was there. What the hell happened. How long has the house been like this? Clarice was too busy walking to her room.

Y/N looked around, saw suitcases. Were they leaving? But why, and where? It felt strange being back in the house, but with everyone gone. Y/N walked around, touching the walls and everything. Y/N walked upstairs and into the bedroom she once shared with Alma and closed the door behind her. Alma’s perfume hitting her like a smack in the face. The scent of smoke, flowers.

She pulled open the drawer and pulled out one of the dark blue lacy nightgowns and spelled. Alma. Y/N looked out the window. It was dark and it was raining. Y/N loved the rain. She walked over to the window and sat down by the window and opened it to listen to the rain and felt herself drift off into sleep.

***

Alma opened the door and walked in. How in the hell was the house still standing? She hadn’t reset the loop. She was wet and she was tired and drained. She quickly walked into the bathroom connected to her room and took a warm, long and hot shower. She wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out. Looking in the drawer for her nightgown but it wasn’t there. Alma turned her head to the figure she saw sitting by the window and nearly had a heart attack.

She grabbed her pillow and hit Y/N with it multiple times.

“You reckless little-“

“Alma, hey! Stop hitting me!”

“I have every right to be angry at you! I thought you were dead. For 7 years you’ve been gone and then you stop writing?!”

Y/N could see Alma’s cheeks turning red from anger. She stepped forward, grabbing the pillow out of Alma’s hands and kissed her knuckles. Which made Alma shut up.

“Why’d you do that to me, to the children.” Alma’s voice was on breaking point.

Y/N looked up, into those blue eyes. “I never meant to. I forgot to write-“ Alma cut her off with a snort.

“Of course you did.” Alma took the nightgown from Y/N and dropped her towel and put it on. Feeling Y/N’s eyes on her. It made her shiver. Then she felt arms wrapped around her waist and a soft kiss on her right shoulder. “I’ve missed you. Please don’t leave again.” She felt Y/N shake her head and turned around in her arms and kissed her lover on the lips softly. Nearly losing herself in her lover’s lips. Laughing softly after feeling Y/N’s hands tickle her sides.

“I hate you.”

“You love me birdy.”

#alma peregrine x reader #alma peregrine #mphfpc

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kippykasey · 3 years

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Grace - Chapter 4: Amazing Grace

Pairing: Howard Stark x F!Reader , Bucky x Reader [Eventually]

Word Count: 3131

Series Summary: A young nurse is recruited by Dr. Abraham Erskine to join the SSR to assist on Project Rebirth. Following her work with the SSR she is drafted into the US Army Nurse Corps in the war against the Nazis...and HYDRA.

Chapter Warnings: minor character death, violence

Author's Note: Surprise?! After a battle with writers block and my own mental health I have finally been able to finish this chapter. Thank you for being patient with me as I get this out. I did switch the POV to first person, so I hope you don't mind. I still feel 'eh' about it but that might just be me being hard on myself. Either way enjoy! I hope to get back onto a normal update schedule again soon!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the gifs they are either found on google or under the gif tag provided by tumblr. Any language other than English was translated using Google Translator, and translations will be posted in bolden italics after. I am not a nurse or in the medical field although I may do some research medical treatment written may not be correct.

Grace Masterlist | Snowdrop Masterlist | Masterlist

My fingers twisted the band around my finger, occasionally stopping to run a finger over the slightly sparkling gem. The turbulence Howard was trying to avoid was delaying our early arrival in London. London, that last place of peace I will see for a while. My eyes had been locked on the array of dials and gauges that were on display on the dash for over an hour now. Howie probably thinks I have fallen asleep by now but how could I sleep with my mind racing? Lifting my head I reached for the co-pilot headset that was hanging next to me and carefully placed it over my ears.

“Hey doll, you alright?” Howie’s voice entered my ears through the headset as he glanced over at me. I gave a soft smile but it was too weak to mean anything. “A lot on my mind. I’m afraid of losing the ring. I’m nervous about the war. I miss Abraham.” Part of me worried he wouldn’t hear me but his hand moved off the control stick to rest over my hand. It was comforting but I knew he was just as nervous about the war as I was.

“Just wear the ring with your identification tags. It’ll be okay.” His fingers wrapped around my hand bringing it up to his lips. Releasing my hand to its previous place on my lap his focus returned to piloting the aircraft. We would be landing soon.

It had only been a few short days since Project Rebirth. I hadn’t been able to write Steve Rogers since I checked up on him but I knew Peggy would keep an eye on him from wherever she was so part of me was a bit calmer. Howard’s voice came through the headset as he called down to the air tower for landing clearance. The landing was a bit rough but nothing Howard couldn’t handle it seemed. I followed Howard’s actions as he took his headset off. He grabbed my things, his would be collected and taken to the facility he would be working at, and reached for my hand to help me from the plane.

There standing by a car was none other than Peggy, her shoulders back yet relaxed as she waited for us to approach her. “Welcome to London, Mr. Stark. (Y/n) you will..” Peggy’s greeting that sounded nothing but official died on her tongue moments before her red lips turned up into a smile as she looked between Howard and me. “I believe congratulations are in order, perhaps we can postpone your drop off a little bit longer.” The twinkle in her eye made me smile. Howard moved around the car to put my bag in the back as Peggy stepped forward pulling me into an embrace. “We shall talk before you leave.” She whispered before the three of us got into the car.

Peggy took us out to lunch to celebrate our new engagement. It was a nice meal filled with smiles and laughs. It was also the last time I would be wearing the ring on my finger. Howard was sitting with me in the back seat on the way to camp when I moved the band from my finger to the metal chain hanging around my neck with silver ID tags hanging over my heart. Arriving at the camp and saying goodbye to Howie was the hardest thing I thought I would have to do. His arms wrapped around me, neither of us saying a word but knowing the chances for the future. “You’ll come back to me. I know you will.” Howie’s statement seemed so sure like it was written in stone and couldn’t be changed.

A private was there to gather my bag and take me to my new division that would be leaving on July 1st for Tuscany. I always wanted to visit Italy, but not like this. I walked by soldiers running and others sitting around talking. The medical cabin was only half full. The first person I was introduced to was Doctor Gabriel Fields. Dr. Fields would be the doctor for the division I was assigned to. He was a bald man in his mid 30s who held his head high like he was better than everyone, constantly bragging about his wonderful wife and three strapping boys. During the time before our shipment out of England I only spoke to Fields at training where he always seemed to look down at the younger nurses, which included myself.

There was one older nurse, the head nurse of the division, Abigail Moore. She was a stern looking woman who practically demanded everything be organized. This was the second war she had been a part of, the first was the first world war. She was either in her late 40s or early 50s no one was really sure, except maybe Dr. Fields who favored Nurse Moore. Maybe it was the bond between parents? After all, Moore had two children of her own who had given her 5 grand children already. As for the rare mention of her late husband it was all positive or how they had met during a party celebrating the end of the first world war.

Between Moore and Fields my habit of singing Amazing Grace to soothe the soldiers was nearly forbidden until two weeks after we arrived in Tuscany and had begun our travel through Italy. There was a small attack by nazi soldiers. A grenade went off taking out two of our men and injuring four others. The medical tent was busy as each nurse tended to an injured man. It was also the first time I watched a soldier die. His leg had been blown off and shrapnel was sticking out of his arm. My body was still stiff from locking up at the sound of the grenade as I tended to the man who was panicking over his leg. Fields was already looking at it as I started to remove and bandage the shrapnel in the soldier's arm. Men behind me were worried about their comrade outside of the tent. The anxious cloud of emotion made my hands shake as I pushed back the man’s hair.

For the first time since we arrived in Italy I began to sing the hymn. Men quieted trying to hear the softer sound coming from me.

“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind but now I see.”

I glanced up at Dr. Fields for an indication of what the result was for his leg. The smallest shake of his head told me that there had been too much blood lost and the soldier wouldn’t make it. I turned my head back down to the man who had stopped yelling in pain.

“Was Grace that taught my heart to fear

And Grace, my fears relieved

How precious did that Grace appear

The hour I first believed.”

The hectic frenzy in the medical tent calmed to a low buzz as the other nurses worked in a calmer environment. Men outside sat on equipment boxes or the ground. My hands cradled the soldier’s head, moving him carefully into my lap. If this man were going to die in my care then he would die knowing he was not alone.

“Through many dangers, toils and snares

We have already come

T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far

And Grace will lead us home

And Grace will lead us home”

My voice cracked as his breath slowed and eyes closed. My eyes closed, willing the tears not to fall. My hand brushed over the man’s chest where trembling fingers grasped at silver. Henry Williams.

“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost but now am found

Was blind but now I see

Was blind, but now I see”

The soldier lay limp on my lap. Nurse Moore and Dr. Fields moved towards me to move the body. Still refusing to let tears fall, my head tilted back and I sniffled, the sign that my emotions were betraying me. A firm yet delicate hand rested on my shoulder, the squeeze of fingers was enough to remind me of the same encouraging gesture Erskine would do in the SSR labs. My head turned to meet the dark brown eyes of Maxine Maine. For the toughest nurse to be looking at me with glossy eyes, I knew that what just happened was emotional for everyone in our division. “Come on, let's get you some air.”

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

From that moment on Amazing Grace became my thing started by Max herself. Maxine didn’t have the best bedside manners, given she was raised by a fisherman. Yet when she heard me sing it relaxed and calmed her enough to have gentler hands. One night when we were sitting at the camp fire she told me it was because it reminded her of her mom, one of the nearby soldiers agreed. I just smiled at them and shrugged my shoulders. By the time the first letters went out I had heard several men telling me that they were telling whoever was back home waiting for them that they had an angel in their division taking care of them. A week later when mail was delivered I had more than what I was expecting, considering I had only sent out three letters to Howie, my brother, and father.

One name stuck out to me. Rachel Williams. I took my small stack of letters and returned to the tent that I shared with the two other younger nurses. I sat on the small storage box before opening the letter. The writing was a bit shaky and there were a few splotches of runned ink from fallen tears,

To the nurse who was there with my boy during his final minutes.

My name is Rachel Williams and my son is Henry Shawn Williams, the man you comforted after the incident. I wanted to thank you for what you did. My nephew was in the tent that day. He wrote to me telling me how peaceful my boy looked in your arms before he passed. Henry never wanted to fight, he wanted to be a teacher. My nephew called you an angel and I have to agree. You’re an amazing grace blessing those in your care. Henry died in peace and that is all I could ask for, thank you.

The woman signed her name and taped a small angel pendant to the bottom of the letter. The somber mood was quickly disturbed by a squeal. I was able to quickly wipe any fallen tears from my face and hastily shove the letter back in the envelope before the freckled blonde nurse raced into the tent. Charlotte Liffiet, the sweetest gal I have ever met, looked at me with a smile so bright the cheshire cat would be jealous. “Gracie, ya never told us ya had a brother.” Clutched in her hand was a singular envelope but four pages worth of letters, each page in different penmanship.

“I don’t talk about myself, Charlie. That’s all.” Charlie, as she preferred to be called, huffed and leaned back against the small stack of baggage. “How did you find out about him anyway?” The slight pout vanished at my inquiry as she moved over pointing at the neatest out of the four letters. “My brother Bo mentioned him. Said he’d like to set us up after the war.” Charlie shot a wink at me while pointing at the spot where her brother wrote about mine.

My brother Robert was in the air force, I knew that. “Looks like you’re not the only one who got a nickname, Gracie.” Robbie Rocket was what her brother Bo kept calling Robert. I smiled and shook my head. “He’s a handful, Charlie.” I warned her before turning to open another letter. Charlie huffed and hit me with the letters. “You try having four brothers. The fact that they all like and approve of him seems like a good sign to me.

The flap of the tent opened letting in Maxine, the fiery red head of our trio. “What are you dames talking about in here?” Charlie moved to sit on her cot. “Gracie was hiding a brother on us.” Max snorted and flopped back on her cot. Maxine Maine was an only daughter of a widowed fisherman, she was a bit...rough around the edges. Max looked around before leaning closer, call me when you got a pretty dame.” Maxine winked at both of us before retrieving her box of cigarettes. “Playing poker with some of the gents, see you later.” Max spoke before putting one of the sticks in her mouth and leaving the tent.

Charlie went back to reading her letters, she had only read Bo’s when she came in. I looked back at some of my letters. There were a few letters from moms and wives who say they feel better knowing there was a nurse like me watching over their boy. Then there was my pa telling me how proud he is of me and congratulating me on my recent engagement. Reading him talk about my engagement made me reach up and grab at the ring hidden under my shirt.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

By early October our squadron had reached Azzano in Umbria, Italy with a fourth of our men already gone. We would be stationed here for a few days checking in with nearby towns. Another wave of letters had arrived, thankfully because Max’s dad had been sending her cigarettes and she had run out recently. After a nudge from both her four brothers and myself Robbie sent a letter to Charlie. Who knows maybe at the end of all this I won’t be the only one looking at wedding dresses. Howie had written maybe twice a month. He’s been busy working on planes and other new inventions for the US military.

Azzano was pretty calm and peaceful, maybe it was wrong, but the men lowered their guard as they enjoyed the downtime the peaceful break had given them. By nightfall the squadron made a few fires and the younger crowd; Max, Charlie, and myself included, sat around talking about what plans we had for after the war. It was at that moment I realized I never told anyone that I was engaged, not even my two friends knew.

“What about you, Gracie? Going to become a singer?” One of the soldiers called from across the fire where a few of the men passed around a flask. I looked over at him and scrunched up my nose. “You gents have only heard me sing one thing, how do you know I’d be any good?” I teased, my arm propping up on my knee to hold up my head as I leaned forward. One of the other guys snorted, “You gotta have something planned for after we’re done.” My eyes moved off the guys and onto the fire my other hand was playing with the chain around my neck. “Oh I do. I’m going back home to Brooklyn, gonna find a pretty dress and marry the man I’ve got waiting for me.”

There were cheers and a few cat call whistles that heated up my cheeks in the darkness. “Whoa whoah, wait a second. First you hold out havin’ a brother now you’re tellin’ us you’re spoken for?” Charlie gasped from next to me. I let out a soft laugh and nod my head. “Yeah, a crazy man asked me right before I shipped out to marry him. He’s traveling around back home. Engineer for the army.” I grinned. The happy moment that was just built came crashing down as someone yelled, “Grenade!” The explosion wasn’t like normal. Instead it let out a smoke that fogged up the already darkened camp. Men rushed for their guns.

“Stay low. Get to the medical tent.” I told the girls.

The camp was invaded by nazi soldiers. There were flashes from the ignited gunpowder as rounds were fired in the night air. “Medic down!” A soldier called. I quickly raced over to see Maxine passed out a cut on her head. A soldier helped me move her to the medical tent where Moore, Dr. Fields, and Charlie already were. “Max got hit in the head.” I told them as she was set down. “I’m going back out to provide immediate care.” I grabbed an emergency rifle from near the tent door along with the medical bag. It was in August that I covered an injured soldier with his own rifle when we were in a small battle that the guys entrusted me with a rifle of my own.

“Holen Sie die Krankenschwester. Wir brauchen sie nur. Holen (Y/n) (L/n).” Get the nurse. We just need her. Get (Y/n) (L/n).

A soldier grabbed my shoulders and pulled me behind him. Together we landed into a slight trench. “They keep saying your name.” The soldier in front of me dropped to the ground as his leg had been shot. Hands gripped my arms hauling me from the trench. I tried to fight back as two men pulled me over to a man who looked to be leading the attack. “Ah, fräulein (L/n), there you are. We’re going to need you to come with us.” miss. The thick German accent made me raise my head higher as I looked at the straight face of the military man in front of me.

With my arms still held I did the only logical thing I could think of at the moment, I slammed my forehead into the man’s nose. The man wiped blood away from his nose looking at me like I was some dirt on his boot before the back of his hand made contact with the side of my face. I flicked my head to the side moving a stray piece of hair out of my face. “Ich habe nie gesagt, dass ich freiwillig kommen würde.” I never said I would come willingly.

I was dragged from camp. Many soldiers tried to stop the Nazi soldiers from taking me but it was futile. Many men were injured and maybe a few deaths but it was clear, as we walked through the camp, I was the priority. The only fight that happened on their exit came from people trying to stop them. A fight that wasn’t won as I ended up tied up and shoved into the back of a vehicle moments before the stars above me swirled into darkness at the painful impact of the butt end of a rifle hitting my temple.

#grace #howard x reader #bucky x female reader #howard stark x female reader #catfa #bucky barnes x reader

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moonlitdiane · 3 years

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Hello! I moved from my old blog, @dianethus to here, you can probably call this a re-intro!

I’ve been trying to write since I was around 12 years old with silly little k-pop and percy jackson fanfics. Even though I cringe now whenever I think about the things I wrote, I still believe it was a necessary phase that all writers have to go through to become better.

I mainly write for the #OwnVoice movement that focuses on the South East Asian experience and especially the experience of being queer in an Asian environment. I aim to give the queers of Asian history whose stories never got to be told a voice. I write to expose the world to Philippine Mythology and the stories passed down from ancestor to ancestor. I also aim to conjure up nostalgic imagery in the readers' minds.

low fantasy. I'm not that really good at world building but I'm in love with the idea of everyday magic.

supernatural.

historical.

angst. I'm SORRY but writing and describing pain is a different kind of joy for me.

found family. I'm gay.

cosmic motifs.

enemies to lovers. oh for someone to see all my worst parts and still fall in love with me. also consider: childhood friends to enemies to lovers.

religious trauma & guilt. I went to a catholic school what did you expect?

The Revolution Will Not Be Vilified.

Evil Is Sexy.

Trapped In Another World. I want to be Isekai-d so bad.

Song Fic. Most of my titles are actually song lyrics or my basic outlines follow the structure of a song.

“Slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl,”

Somewhere In Limasawa Street is a queer historical fiction story set in 1898 when the Philippine-American war is just beyond the horizons and 19 year old mestiza, Lucena Candella is in the middle of a war with herself. Sheltered and painfully aloof, she meets brave but brash, Urduja Kalangitan, who is as emotionally aware as a rock and who happens to be the Revolutionary Army's best gunman—maybe that's what pulled quiet Lucena to her.

Between paper planes, porcelains, and battle scars, Lucena slowly learns to love, and that scared her. It scared her because she wasn't allowed to love that woman with the scarred smile and wild hair.

This is my main WIP and my passion project. I really wanted to write something that I can dedicate to the queers of history, the indigenous and people of color whose queerness is never told.

The title is a reference to Limasawa Street by folk pop band, Ben&Ben, I actually used the album and a few singles as inspiration for the plot.

WIP Playlist. This story will be unapologetically Filipino.

“Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil,”

The Devil’s Choir is a low fantasy story following the adventures of seven unlikely friends who just want to go apeshit and run away from their shitty town. That is until they’re thrown into a you-need-to-save-the-whole-world mess without their written consent. Lucifer and Dionysus show up at their door step, dragging them head first into an abyss that even the Gods refuse to fall into. A war between the golden age and the future, it’s now up to this peculiar gang to save the world from the real threat.

The seven deadly sins but make them moody teenagers. this story has gone through so much revising for years! Found family, enemies to lovers, and unwilling heroes? check.

Unintentionally a copy of American Gods. It was too late until I realized the plot was kind of similar to American Gods. Help.

WIP Playlist. I smell chaos, don’t you?

“It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.”

Manila Encounters is a paranormal urban fantasy story unfolding right in the pearl of the orient seas. When the clock strikes 3 AM and the lights of the skyscrapers turn dark—when the city sleeps, the monsters roam free. Deep between the alley ways of Manila city, look out for kids with a certain glow and bite behind their smiles. Look for the ones with sunkissed tans who speak in tongues. Look for the ones whose feet barely dip into murky bay waters and fingertips grazing moonlight.

A dummy’s guide to Filipino folklore. Manila Encounters was inspired by a hashtag on Twitter of the same name where people wrote their own twist to Filipino urban legends and folk stories.

Oh great, another Percy Jackson rip-off. the main characters are demi-gods or descendants of Gods. Original, I know.

WIP Playlist. driving at midnight sort of vibe.

"You may forget but let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us."

And I Love her is a queer romance story about a girl who just recently moved into an old but well maintained cottage in some seaside town in Europe—and she finds in the middle of dusty furniture and underneath cobwebs, a rotary telephone sitting there unused for decades. It rings unexpectedly one day and what greets her is a soft voice belonging to someone who lived 60 years ago.

a dreamnotfound fanfic inspired this. and the South Korean horror film, The Call.

gay yearning agenda. so much yearning. so much. I’m projecting.

WIP Playlist. My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, taking mine, but it's been promised to another

A selected list of fics from my AO3 account. It’s gay.

I drowned a long time ago. Sakusa Kiyoomi isn’t in love. He’s devoted. Serial Killer AU.

Maaaring bang magkunwaring akin ka pa? A Tagalog Haikyuu fic based on the movie, Camp Sawi.

Marupok na puso ko. A Tagalog Haikyuu fic where they do the Filipino thing and get drunk.

My good puppy. My first try at writing smut. Jesus Christ.

Be my mistake. Where Kuroo Tetsurou calls up Tsukishima Kei one last time.

Make it hurt. The two times Atsumu Miya saw the entire universe behind Sakusa Kiyoomi’s eyes.

I still have a lot of stories that I hope to finish, I find it hard to discard or erase story ideas. So I hope one day, you can all watch me finish this list.

We Don’t Belong Here / Viva La Filipinas / Luna De Sangre Conspiracy / Lilith and Lysander’s Guide To Immortal Godparents / Lonely Hearts Club / A Lady’s Guide to Princes and Principles / Attack Block / Empty Thrones / A Double Take / Stupid Cupid / Idle Town / Alice? / The 30 Day Deal / Lost Stars / The Apocalypse Program / Heartstrings / Disastrously Danae

#Writeblr intro #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #about me #introduction #writeblr wip #intro #HI #PINNED.#wip intro

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iliumheightnights · 4 years

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We Have A Jedi [13] | Peter Parker x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars and Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male Reader, Tony Stark x Son!Reader

Summary: Being on Earth was just what (M/N) needed, but the war is still raging and it seems to be getting worse. With the same vision plaquing him, he’s wondering what lay on the horizon.

Read From The Start

…

It had been a week since their arrival to Earth. In that time Sheyo’s leg had fully healed and she was back in the action. The two had trained with each other in both force techniques and lightsaber combat. It was a nice change of pace. The two of them had been able to spend time with the avengers and (M/N) got to spend lots of time with his father, which he was grateful for.

As said before, Thor did eventually return from Asgard. He broke into the biggest smile when he saw (M/N) had returned. He had asked when he had been and (M/N) gave him the same run down as before. Unlike the others, Thor was not surprised that Sheyo was a Mirialan in the slightest, instead asking her if she Mirial had been alright during the war. After a brief chat (M/N) pulled him into his room. “Is everything alright young Stark?” (M/N) sighed. “I need you to do something for me. I need you to take something back to Asgard with you.” By the look on his face Thor seemed intrigued by the idea. “What do you need me to take back?” (M/N) went to where he hid the stones and pulled out the space stone. “This.” Thor eyed him and the stone. “This is-” “An infinity stone yes. One of two that I have. The longer I have them the more of a target they become. I need you to take this one back to asgard and keep it safe. I’ll leave the other one here with the rest of the avengers. They’ll keep it safe.” Thor seemed to be thinking of something, maybe about how (M/N) had ended up with two stones. “Aye. I’ll do it. Wait- is the other stone you have the one from last time?” (M/N) nodded. “I didn’t trust the council or the republic to keep it safe. Neither did my mother. We thought they’d use it for their own efforts, just like the sith.” Thor nodded. “Well you’ve done well keeping it safe so far. It was probably a good decision. Not to worry, I shall take this stone with me back to Asgard and keep it safe within our vault.” That was all the confirmation (M/N) needed, he knew Thor would keep it safe.

…

There was a city, not like new york. More like coruscant, only cleaner and not as large. It seemed to be domed too. There were the sounds of gunfire and shouting. A battle. He could hear lightsabers clashing. Once again a flash of purple and gold. “You should have gone for the head.” Then the fighting seemed to be dying down and the air became littered with ash. The screaming had turned to cries. This wasn’t a nightmare, it was a warning.

(M/N) shot up from his bed. His breath was rapid and his heart was beating fast. Sweat could be felt all over his face. What did that mean? He had that dream ever since before he even came to Earth the first time. “Mr.(M/N). You’re heart rate is increasing rapidly. Shall I inform your father?” (M/N) had never heard the A.I so...so worried before. It was almost comforting in a way. “No. Thank you Jarvis. I’m just...just going to go for some air.” He got out of bed and put on some clothes and a jacket before leaving the tower. He just needed to keep his mind distracted for a bit. He didn’t even know what time it was, it had to be early in the morning. Even then the city was still somewhat awake.

He had been walking for a bit, he didn’t know how far he had gone. Too far into his mind and what the dreams meant he didn’t even notice when someone walked up to him. “Give me all your money and you won’t get hurt.” That brought his attention back. “Huh? Oh, you’re trying to rob me.” The person in front of him wore a mask and had a knife out to him. “Give me your money!” (M/N) sighed and brought his hand up, waving it at the man. “You don’t want to rob me. You want to go home and rethink your life.” The man stiffened up and dropped his knife. “I don’t want to rob you. I want to go home and rethink my life.” That was all it took, the man turned and walked off. “Cool. I wonder if he sells death sticks too.” (M/N) smirked at the voice and turned to greet his friend. “Earth has death sticks?” The eyes of the spiderman mask widened. “Oh! Um no, just part of the movie.” (M/N) nodded. “Ah yes. Star Wars.”

(M/N) turned and began walking again, he heard Peter land and felt the boy walking beside him. “So...what are you doing out here so late? Early? I don’t even know what time it is anymore.” (M/N) hummed. “I’m not sure either honestly. I couldn’t sleep. Nightmares. Decided I needed some air, now here we are.” Peter Nodded. “Here we are. Here.” Peter held out his hand to (M/N) who looked at him questionably before grabbing on. Peter then shot out a web and brought him onto the roof of a building. “This way we can sit down and have some privacy.” (M/N) smirked and sat beside Peter on the edge of the roof, Peter removing his mask to reveal messy hair. “It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of heights, Spidey.” Peter blushed and covered his mouth. “I should have asked. I am so sorry.” But the other boy only waved him off. “You’re good. I’ve jumped out of ships in the air too many times to count.” Peter looked curious but wanted to hear. “Yeah?” That’s how (M/N) ended up talking with Peter about his adventures out in the galaxy. The boy never once seemed to be uninterested, instead gave all his focus on him.

Soon the sun was starting to rise over the city. “I should probably be getting back. Don’t want anyone to be worried.” (M/N) stood up, Peter doing the same. “I can take you back. You’ll get there a lot quicker, plus you won’t get stopped by other thugs.” (M/N) smiled and nodded. “I’d like that. If you wouldn’t mind of course.” Peter shook his head and held onto him. “I wouldn’t have offered if I did mind.” Then he started swinging back to the tower. (M/N) was smiling the whole time, he had travelled many different times before, but never like this. It wasn’t long before the two landed on the deck of the tower. “Thanks for the lift. Get home safely.” Peter, now with his mask on, laughed. “I will. Not looking forward to school though. See ya around (M/N)!” with that Peter went swinging away.

When (M/N) entered the tower he discovered no one was up yet. “(M/N) you’re back. I was worried something might have happened.” Jarvis spoke. “Thanks Jarvis. Was talking with a friend.” (M/N) was about to head back to his room when Jarvis spoke up again. “Your father is currently in the lab if you want to talk with him.” (M/N) smirke and headed to the elevator. “Thanks J.” Arriving in his father’s lab he heard the music blaring already. He had been in the lab a couple other times, mostly helping his dad with some projects but otherwise he didn’t really come in here. Tony was currently working over a workbench. “Morning dad. Let me guess, haven’t slept yet.” Tony looked up from his spot and smiled. “No, I got a solid five hours.” (M/N) shook his head and rolled his eyes. He looked over the table. “You need more sleep. What are you working on?” Tony just went back to work. “Some upgrades to the suit, maybe even plans for a new suit. Working on nanotechnology.” Tony pulled up the idea sketches and data, (M/N) looked it over impressed with his dad’s work. “Impressive. Think you’ll be able to get it done soon?” (M/N) didn’t ask if it would be possible, because through his dad anything is possible. “I hope so. I think I can at least get parts of a watch to form a glove in a couple months.” (M/N) nodded and sat down next to him, he figured it was a time to ask. “So...what’s going on between you and Steve?” That made his dad stop for a bit but continued on with his work. “What do you mean? Me and capsicale are doing just fine.” (M/N) hummed. “Oh I know you are, maybe TOO fine. Don’t play coy with me. I see how you look at him every now and then.” Tony continued to work but huffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I look at him like I do any other member of the team.” (M/N) nodded when the door opened and the man of the hour walked in. “Tony. (M/N).” Steve nodded to them both. (M/N) stood up and patted his father’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go see if Sheyo’s up. Have fun you two...but not too much fun.” He smirked at Steve who looked confused before walking out. “What was that about?” Steve asked Tony who was looking anywhere but Steve. “I have no idea. Teenage angst.”

(M/N) walked to the guest room and knocked on the door. It didn’t take long for Sheyo to answer the door and let him in. “Morning.” She smirked at him. “We need to talk. Now that my leg is better, we need to start thinking of finding a way back to Tython. Or at least to a station.” (M/N) nodded. “I agree. As much as I want to stay...I had another vision last night. The same one I’ve had for the last two years...I think it’s coming sooner than we think.” Sheyo seemed troubled by that. “That’s not good. Not at all. We need to find out what your vision means and stop it. Perhaps Master Yoda will know.

Before the conversation could continue, the alarm began to ring out. “What’s that? Are we under attack?” Sheyo asked, preparing to fight. “No. That’s just the alarm letting the avengers know to suit up. Looks like they’re needed somewhere. Good. When they’re gone we can ask fury about getting a-” Jarvis spoke up. “Excuse me Mr.(M/N), your father has requested you and Miss Wune to suit up. You two will be going with them on the mission.” (M/N) was surprised to hear that. He figured his dad wouldn’t want him along. “Alright we’re on our way. When we’re back. Come on Sheyo, let’s go see what’s going on.” (M/N) quickly ran to his room and changed back into his jedi tunic and grabbed his lightsabers. He and Sheyo made it to the quinjet which the avengers were boarding.

It wasn’t long before the jet was in the air and the briefing began. “Alright. We have reports that remnants of Hydra have taken over a shield base in colorado. They’ve put up a good fight of keeping it too.” Sheyo looked over the holotable. “What’s the strategic importance of this base sir? Why would they take it?” Steve looked troubled. “That’s the thing, this base didn’t have anything of importance. It was just a look out base, a couple artifacts are there but nothing that we’ve discovered to be important or dangerous. We’re worried we might be wrong about that. We’re not sure exactly sure why they took it...especially with how reckless they’ve been about it.” (M/N) felt a little nagging feeling in his mind. “I have a bad feeling about this. Do you feel that Sheyo?” She nodded. “Yes. I feel there is something more here than any of us know. We should be cautious with how we proceed.” The avengers nodded at that, worried about what that could mean. Tony seemed to stand a bit closer to (M/N). Steve continued the briefing and they continued their flight to the base. “Ready to get back into the fight?” (M/N) asked his friend. “You know it. You know I hate sitting around when there’s people to help save and criminals to stop.” The two laughed as someone approached from behind them. “You two seem chipper for going into battle.” (M/N) smirked at the archer. “This is an everyday occurrence Clint. We’re used to it by now.” The man frowned at that. “I don’t like that you’re used to it. You shouldn’t be used to it.” Sheyo smiled at him. “We don’t like it either. But that’s just how the universe works sometimes.”

It wasn’t long before the quinjet landed and everyone got into position. “Alright everyone, you know what to do. Keep on comms and stay safe. Especially you two.” Steve looked at (M/N) and Sheyo who only grinned at him and saluted. “Yes sir!” They said in unison. “Smart asses.” (M/N) heard his dad mutter. The doors opened and everyone went into their objectives. (M/N) and Sheyo were of course teamed up together and they were tasked with taking out the outer defenses and watch towers. It was relatively easy for them to finish seeing as both have taken part of sieges. Both however did do their best to not kill anyone, only to disarm them and knock them out.

“(M/N), Sheyo, Hydra is starting to retreat. We’re following the bulk of their forces. Can you two take the few stragglers from the main facility?” Steve said through the comms. “Absolutely! We’ll take care of them!” (M/N) said back. He and Sheyo made it back to the main facility and took care of the few stragglers that had remained. “Well...that was a blue milk run.” (M/N) joked. “Another day's work for the galaxy's best duo.” Sheyo high fived him. The two returned to the outside of the facility. As they stepped outside the sound of a lightsaber igniting was heard and a chill ran up (M/N)’s spine. He was quick to ignite his and block as a red blade came down almost hitting sheyo.

“Well, well. When my master said you would be here I thought he was letting his anger and pain confuse him. Guess he was right after all.” Another sith. This time however it was a twi'lek girl with red skin and black tattoos over her body and face. Sheyo came in with her lightsaber but was blocked as the sith ignited another lightsaber...this one however had a pure black blade with a white silverish outline. “My my...two in one? My lucky day!” (M/N) brought up his other lightsaber for a swing but the sith only jumped out of the way. “I’m guessing you’re the reason Hydra’s here?” She gave out a laugh before bringing her hands up and shooting out lightning which the two jedi blocked. “WHO ARE YOU!?” (M/N) yelled. “My master sends his regards! He wanted to kill you himself but he’s currently still licking his wounds!” It was then (M/N) knew, he had studied enough of his enemy in the jedi archives. She was Kren’s apprentice. “So...we finally meet...Talon!” The sith grinned widely. “I’m glad to see you’ve heard about me!”

The lightning was keeping it’s pace. Talon was strong, but she was too focused on the two jedi to notice as a missile launched at her. She stopped her lightning and jumped out of the way in time not to be directly hit. The sound of jet’s came into hearing range and blaster fire began being shot out. (M/N) thought that it was his father coming to the rescue, he was surprised when a mandalorian landed next to him still firing at the sith. “Well what are you waiting for!? Finish her off!” The mando shouted. (M/N) shook off his confusion and moved to attack again but watched as Talon jumped off the railing. The sound of engines got louder as Talon rose into view. She was standing on a small fighter. “Thank you for the fight! Sadly I must leave now for I have what I need. Not to worry I’ll be back!” The mandalorian shot off a rocket at her which she pushed back with the force. “Duck!” (M/N) pushed the mandalorian down while Sheyo dropped to the ground. The rocket hit into a wall the opposite side and Talon escaped in her ship.

(M/N) groaned as he looked up into the visor of the mandalorians helmet. “You mind? You’re kind of crushing me.” (M/N) quickly stood up and helped the man up. “Oh sorry.” Sheyo got up and came over to them. “You alright?” (M/N) nodded and turned back to the man. “Thanks for the help. Who are you? What’s a mandalorian doing here on Earth?” The man rose his hand. “Name’s Ven. Ven Myjal of Clan Zost. I was looking for an important heirloom, sadly she got here first.” (M/N)’s mind clicked with recognition. “That lightsaber. The one with the black blade.” Ven nodded. “It’s called the darksaber. The person who holds it leads the mandalorians. I was trying to find it before they found it, I fear they plan to use it to conquer Mandalore.” Sheyo snorted. “The sith will conquer all of their ‘allies’.” Even with a helmet on, (M/N) could tell Ven was glaring. “We want nothing to do with your war. The mandalorians that have sided with the empire are all seperatist!” Sheyo backed off but the air was tense. “So what are you going to do now?” Ven shrugged. “I’m not sure. I can’t really follow her all the way back to Dromund Kaas or Korriban. I’ll probably just return to Mandalore and prepare for whatever comes next. No matter what happens, my clan won’t listen to the empire.” (M/N) nodded. “Can I ask a favor? Can you drop my friend and I off at a republic station or planet? We’re stuck here and need to get back to warn them of events that happened before we got stuck.” The man sighed and shook his head. “I have a ship not far from here. I’ll take you as far as Alderaan but then I’ll have to head back to Mandalore.” (M/N) smirked. “That’s all we need. Thank you. I have to quickly wrap up some business but Sheyo will go with you for now. Sheyo go with Ven and I’ll go back with the avengers and finish up our business. Lead Ven and pick me up. It’s time to go.” Sheyo nodded and followed Ven to his ship.

(M/N) arrived back at the quinjet the same time the avengers were. “(M/N)! Where’s Sheyo?” Steve asked. The others looking worried, (M/N) rose his hands. “She’s fine. She’s with someone who’s going to help us get off world.” That caught the attention of everyone, his father pushed his way forward. “Off world? You’re leaving again?” (M/N) hated seeing his father look down, but he needed to go. “Yes. I’ll tell you more on the way back to the tower. I need you all to do something for me.” He didn’t wait for a response and boarded the jet. On the way back to the tower he told them everything. Talon. Ven. The darksaber. And finally- “Remember the last time I was here? I had the infinity stone that we were going to give to the jedi council...well I still have it. I need you to hold onto it and keep it safe. I can’t trust it with anyone else.” He pleaded with the avengers but he really didn’t need to. They had all already made their decision to keep it safe. Arriving back at the tower they exited the jet and (M/N) quickly went to his room to grab the stone. However when he went to where he hid the stone he found it missing. “What...Jarvis! Did someone enter my room when we were gone?” Jarvis was silent for a while. “I’m sorry sir. It seems like part of my security feed was erased. This is...alarming.” (M/N) felt his heart race quickening, someone came and stole the stone. He raced out of his room to his father and the rest. “It’s gone! Someone took the stone.” This alarmed them all. “What? Jarvis do you have the security recording?” The ai repeated that it had been erased. “This isn’t good, not at all.” Bruce said. The sound of engines got louder and they watched as a gauntlet class ship landed on the balcony. The ramp dropped and Sheyo walked out. Tony placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. We’ll find it. But you need to go and do what you need to do.” He could see that there were tears building in his eyes but still held a smile.

The avengers walked him out to the ship. Each of them said their goodbyes to him. Steve reached out his hand but (M/N) pulled him into a hug. “Bye Steve. See ya in a bit...take care of my dad.” Steve seemed to understand what he meant and nodded. Finally it was time to say goodbye to his dad. “Well...at least I get to say goodbye this time.” Tony laughed and shook his head. “Not goodbye, just see ya later.” (M/N) smirked and hugged his dad. “You know it. I’ll try and be as quick as I can. I have a bad feeling things are about to get a lot more difficult.” Tony rolled his eyes, still hugging him. “Well if it’s easy it’s no fun.” (M/N) groaned. “Says you! I like it when I don’t have to constantly be worried for my life...I love you dad.” Tony hugged him just a little bit tighter. “I love you more.” With that he let go and turned to the ship. “Oh! I almost forgot. Here!” He turned back around and gave dad his comlink. “This way we can keep in some sort of contact and it’s not just static for two years.” Tony huffed out a laugh and (M/N) gave one last goodbye to everyone before turning to the ship.

Sheyo smiled as he boarded the ship. “Ready to go?” He nodded. Ven was at the controls and Sheyo sat in the co-pilot's seat, (M/N) sitting behind Ven. “About time. Let’s leave this place.” The engines roared and the ship began flying away. It was only then watching the city getting smaller did (M/N) realize he didn’t get to say goodbye to Peter. He’d have to apologize next time he came...hopefully both survived long enough. “Next stop, Alderaan.”

#peter parker #tony stark #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x male stark reader #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x male!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x son reader #tony stark x son!reader #tony stark x stark reader #tony stark x stark!reader

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borisbubbles · 3 years

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ESC 2021 Preshow: 08. France

Barbara Pravi - “Voilà”

Autoqualifier

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France going from 3rd last on my ranking / likely last place in the finale to 8th place in the ranking / probably top 3 in the Grand Final. 😍 WHAT A GLOW-UP.

So, “Voilà” is epic, obviously. Yeah I will skip the theatrics, each and every one of you know this song and we all know it’s probably the best French entry in ages.

Funnily enough, I didn’t care for “Voilà” when I first heard it lmfao. It felt similar to the song Patricia Kaas went to Eurovision with and while “Et s’il faillait le faire” has its fans, I was never one of them. Worse, the internet immediately resorted to refering to “Voilà” as a “masterpiece” which is probably the pretentious statement you can make about Eurovision songs. Guys, it’s an Edith Piaf-inspired tribute act. Calm the eff down. Still, even at this early a stage I was instantly charmed by Barbara’s introspection and pluck even if I didn’t care for the music at first. After all, Barbara was the mastermind behind jesc HITS “Bim bam toi” and “J’imagine” and if she wants to bring a song that puts HER SELF at the forefront, she’s perfectly entitled to do so. About fucking time. On top of that, I thought the ending was sublime, even in studio version. “Why can’t the entire song be like that”, I thought. And then, E:CVQD arrived and Barbara SERVED, OUTSOLD, SLAYED, etc every superlative under the sun.

So remember when I aired my critique regarding Gjon? “Tout l’Univers” is an “Objectively Strong” composition in that it employs music theory to conjure up a song that sounds impressive on first listen. But behind that academic skill lies virtually nothing of interest. I cannot connect with it beyond a base level because what does it tell me about Gjon or his story? Technique without a heart or a soul is merely pretense. But I suppose it can sound sophisticated to someone who doesn’t know what “sophistication” is.

Barbara, however. Her personality just SPRINGS FORWARD on an approachable level from the first note. “Voilà”s’s technical expertise and Barbara’s own perfomance talents carry this vibe, this SERVE of personality, through the full three minutes without ever getting boring or tedious and they leave me craving for another listen. ALL OF THESE ARE AMAZING TRAITS IN A EUROVISION SONG. And this is just from the studio version, the live stage show makes it even better.

So yeah, homeboy’s got his work cut out for him because if this is his competition he’ll have to graft hard for his victory.

NF Corner - C’est Vous Qui Décidez

In what would become a running theme amidst countries this year, France led the charge in a personal project called #OperationForget2020, in which every trace of last year would be subsequently memory-holed. To acheive this, they revived their NF, gave it a new name and pretended it was ~The First NF of Its Format~ (so basically doing what Lithuania did last year when they rebranded Atranka into PiN).

INCIDENTALLY, this would also wind up the best NF of the year, pretty much by default because France had the most to win. Even though Barbara was the obvious winner from the instant the songs were revealed, the French had some excellent back-up options in their arsenal. Let’s rummage through them shall we?

LMK - “Magique”

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R&B Trap wench <3 “Magique” starts off pretty and cute for fifteen seconds, before whiplashing hard into kick-ass tropical house territory. Her Slovene spirit mothers Raiven and Lea Sirk are so proud of her <3 She definitely deserved much better than the result she got (being NQ with the audience O_O), but lol it’s France, they ain’t NEVER crowning a sexually confident sassy woman, let’s not kid ourselves.

Céphaz - “On a mangé le soleil”

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This Hat God had me at that title. “We have eaten the sun” 😍😍😍😍. More songs should adopt a fatalistic environmental angle by using consumption-related metaphors à la “we’ve devoured out planet :burp:, MOAR”, and then set this suuuuper cynical and depressing text to an upbeat and optimistic soundtrack <3 The “Hey ya” tease of it all. 😍

Amui - “Maeva”

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So cheerful it turns a surly cretin such as myself into a blundering mass of uwu. It’s like a nillies Eurovision semi NQ’er suddenly wandered into the set, so derivative and repetitive and tacky but SO fun and happy-go-lucky <3 The entire premise of “Maeva” is basically like: “VISIT FRENCH POLYNESIA, WE ARE THE MOST HOSPITABLE PEOPLE ON THIS EARTH” <333 using this message in the middle of a worldwide viral pandemic <33333333 Normally fun-trash like this would be murdered at first sight by any jury, but whoops “Maeva” turned out a massive televote hit HEHEE 😛 and finished third in the televote despite being last or second last with the jury. Those Tahitian diasporia votes coming through <3

Adriamad - “Allélujah”

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TACKY EUROTRASH <3 Lol when I think of it, did I like this NF because it was good or because it was so fun-trash. Anyway, this display of diversity would normally be on my shitlist but it’s honestly SO OTT in its ~People Of The World Of All Colours Are Equal~ message it circles back into funny. The eye gimmick, the hammy choreography, the obnoxious fusion of several cultures into a nondescript ethnotrash hodgepodge, the fucking LYRICS everything is so funny and so entertaining it’s giving me LIFE. 😍 I’d say it deserved better but “Allélujah” stranding in the demifinal (not a typo) is honestly a much, much more satisfying result <3

Predicted Journey - France

Barbara is going on that Mahmood trajectory, I see. Early fave who gets near unanimous critical acclaim, rules solely on top until the other contenders show up and is then put on the backburner because she’s an autoqualifier and therefore isn’t a part of the “who will qualify?” discussions. Then, the rehearsals will happen and everyone will remember “hey, that French chick we almost forgot about is actually REALLY good” allowing her to pick up momentum again, catapulting her into the top five. So it is written, such it shall be.

The question is... Can she win?

The answer is: yeah, possibly? At this point we have three potential contenders: Gjon for Switzerland and Destiny for Malta are the main rivals and I’d say Barbara has one big advantage over Gjon and Destiny: She already has a great live performance to back up her potential winner status. In fact, Barbara is a fave to win because we know what she’s going to bring in Rotterdam. Gjon and Destiny could theoretically still bomb if their staging is off (and both are getting theirs done by Sasha Jean-Baptiste, soooooo) and their contenderness is based on things such as hype and expectation. Barbara meanwhile already had her baptism by fire when she competed in E:CQVD, which she handily won.

The problem though is Gjon Muharremaj. For the average eurofan, France and Switzerland have similar entries and it will result in a tug-of-war between which of them has the better song. Either could win this televote bout, and whoever does could beat Malta.. .but that would require Malta to have a disappointing televote result and with each passing day this is starting to look less likely. (Jury results matter less because they’re probably the top 3). Personally I don’t really have a preference between Barbara OR Destiny as a win for either would push Eurovision in a better direction (A Gjon win though... I am TERRIFIED that may result in a 2022 contest filled with Vincent Bueno’s and Vasils), but if these three are indeed the top three, Barbara’s position is the most secure although she’s probably also the least likely one to actually win. Pray that I’m wrong though and we can all meet at her flat in Montmartre for a covid-proof afterparty.

Projected placements:

> Grandfinal: 1st-5th (predicted Runner-up)

THE RANKING:

01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. FRANCE - Barbara Pravi - “Voilà” 09. BULGARIA - Victoria - “Growing up is getting old” 10. LATVIA - Samanta Tina - “The moon is rising” 11. GREECE - Stefania - “Last dance” 12. SWEDEN - Tusse - “Voices” 13. IRELAND - Leslie Roy - “Maps” 14. CROATIA - Albina - “Tick Tock” 15. MOLDOVA - Natalia Gordienko - “Sugar” 16. ITALY - Måneskin - “Zitti e buoni” 17. ALBANIA - Anxhela Peristeri - “Karma” 18. UNITED KINGDOM - James Newman - “Embers” 19. LITHUANIA - The Roop - “Discoteque” 20. ESTONIA - Uku Suviste - “The lucky one” 21. FINLAND - Blind Channel - “Dark side” 22. AZERBAIJAN - Efendi - “Mata Hari” 23. the NETHERLANDS - Jeangu Macrooy - “Birth of a new age” 24. CZECH REPUBLIC - Benny Christo - “Omaga” 25. DENMARK - Fyr og Flamme - “Øve os på hinanden” 26. SLOVENIA - Ana Soklič - “Amen” 27. SWITZERLAND - Gjon’s Tears - “Tout l’Univers” 28. ROMANIA - Roxen - “Amnesia” 29. SERBIA - Huricane - “Loco loco” 30. POLAND - Rafał - “The ride” 31. ISRAEL - Eden Alene - “Set me free” 32. GEORGIA - Tornike Kipiani - “You” 33. PORTUGAL - The Black Mamba - “Love is on my side” 34. SPAIN - Blas Cantó - “Voy a quedarme” 35. NORWAY - Tix - “Fallen Angel” 36. CYPRUS - Elena Tsagrinou - “El Diablo” 37. AUSTRIA - Vincent Bueno - “Amen” 38. NORTH MACEDONIA - Vasil - “Here I stand” 39. GERMANY - Jendrik - “I don’t feel hate”

#Eurovision #Eurovision Song Contest #Eurovision 2021 #ESC 2021 #ESC2021 #France #Barbara Pravi #Voilà

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j-diamond · 4 years

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(Not) Worth It (Edward x reader)

I am so ridiculously sorry and frankly embarrassed at how long it took me to write this request. i apologize for stalling, and hope that this is to your liking.

“Guess what?” you call as you burst through the doors to the filing room. Your demeanor deflates when you see Officer Dougherty with his fist raised and an unconscious Ed in his other. You were sick of it, this was the last straw. Your face contorts into a frown, turning to your right, you slam the files that were in your hand atop the nearest filing cabinet. The mere sound of it sends the other two officers running. You chuckle slowly at their cowardice as you watch them run away, “I see you’ve seemed to have forgotten last week’s lesson.” your voice was low, dripping with malice, your eyes having gone wide. You slam the door shut as you turn around laughing, “I guess I’ll just have to reteach it.” Tom had let go of Ed, tossing him to the floor. Your gaze returns to Tom, your knuckles growing whiter. You smirk at him, knowing he wasn’t going to recover soon, “Shall we begin?”

“Knock knock.” you say softly as you lean against the door frame. “Come in.” Ed responds, not bothering to look up from his deskwork. You smile sympathetically at him as you walk over to him, “How ya holdin’ up?” you ask , bringing your clipboard closer to your chest. He looks at you, the darkening bruise developing on his left temple answering your question, “You look like a punching bag.” you joke trying to get him to smile. Instead he looks down hastily, “Better me than her.” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. But you hear it, your heart stopping at the words. You look down, understanding what he’d meant, “Kringle.” you mutter softly, in an almost disbelief. Your breath hitches as you realize he’d done all that just for her. He threw himself intentionally into harm’s way, for her. Your grip tightens on the clipboard. All of this for her, no, all of this because of her. “Y/n?” Ed calls softly upon seeing your distressed look, “Is it worth it?” you ask quietly as you loosen your grip. “What do you-” he starts but you interrupt him, “Is she worth it?” your voice barely reaches above a whisper, but he could hear you clearly, “I mean I know you love her, but is she worth getting yourself beaten to a pulp?” You go to meet his gaze, but he breaks it in favor of the floor, “I love Ms. Kringle.” he says, as if for reassurance, “And Officer Dougherty doesn’t deserve a woman like her. She’s sweet and smart and if I can just prove to her that I’m a better man for her than him, she’ll be with me.” You shake your head, as your eyes begin glazing over, “But what about Tom?” you ask, your voice wavering slightly, “Everything he does to you, all the beatings, all the trash he talks. The way him, and his troupe look down on you. Is she worth all that?” He nods softly, “I love her.” he says again, your heart cracking, “And I know that even though I can’t beat him physically. I am still intellectually better. It may not be much right now, but it’ll count for something. If I show him that he doesn’t scare me and that I can take any beating he throws my way then he’ll stop throwing them, just like last time.” your eyebrows crease, “Last time?” you ask, unsure of what he meant. “I don’t know much, but I know he was beating me, but I passed out.” he says, his eyes darting, trying to remember, “But I assume he stopped because he got bored. The only punch that was bruised, was this one.” He points to the previous one on his left temple, “So if I continue to do that, he’ll stop wanting to fight me entirely.” You groan, frustrated that he’d been thinking that's why Tom had stopped beating him. “Ed, that’s not-” You pause, unsure if you should tell him. You look at him, able to see that he was interested. You sigh, you didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t need to know you protected him, after all he was only doing so to ‘protect’ Kringle, “That won’t work. Men like Tom Dougherty don’t just tire from the same...” your voice beginning to grow bitter, “They get off on beating up people they deem weaker than themselves. They won’t let off until being forced to do so.” You stop, thinking about it. You’d protect him this entire time, yet, he doesn’t know, and probably wouldn’t. He’d been protecting Kringle, she knows this, and yet she still doesn’t care. You and him were basically the same, “I’m not like you Ed.” Your voice settles, softer than before, “I can’t keep getting myself hurt because of a person I love.” You turn, your breath uneven, “Bye Ed.” Ed watched as you left, speechless; unknowingly letting you slip through his fingers.

“I know what you did.” A voice says from behind you. You pause, fighting the instinct to respond, having already figured out who it was. You weren’t going to give them the satisfaction, not when your heart was already weak, moments away from shattering. “I’ll wait.” They say, their voice almost pompous. You sigh inwardly, you needed a change of scenery, staying here would only lead to disaster. So you begin putting away your files, opting out to finish them another day. You look up to see Ms. Kringle guarding the door and you sit back down, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation. “Yes Ms. Kringle?” you ask, not wanting to deal with her. She saunters over to your desk. You raise an eyebrow at her obvious faux confidence. “Tom hasn’t been to work for three days.” She says accusingly. Her hand resting on her hip. “Well I assume it’s because he needed a day to rest, and another to recover.” You smirk, pretending to think, “The third is probably just for show.” You flash a smile. You weren’t trying to have this conversation, “But honestly it’s none my business, he is your boyfriend. I wish you wouldn’t include me in your toxic relationship.” You stand, readying to leave, enforcing your decision. Yet Kringle apparently had other ideas as she, yet again, blocked your only exit. You smiled, staring deeply into her eyes, “Ms. Kristen Kringle, I do believe it’d be in everyone’s best interest if you refrained from continuing to block my exit.” Your smile dropped, “Unless you wish to get physical.” You intended to scare her into moving, but seeing a sense of familiarity wash over her face, you were reminded of just how toxic her relationship was. You pause, you hated her, but she didn’t deserve that. You sigh inwardly. You grab her arm pulling her to you, “What do you want?” Her eyes shift, surveying the room trying to remember, “It’s a violation of station rules to assault an officer.” she states, having found the words. You let go of her, completely done with her. She had no valid points, yet she came here to disrupt you anyway. “I’ll report you.” You pause, and then shrug, picking up your phone, ready to leave. “Okay.” you say as you go to leave, “That’s it?” she says and a misplaced anger begins to boil inside of you, “you’ll let me report you?” “Yep.” you say as the anger begins doubling over, “Because you’re not going to do it.” “And why not?” she asks, as she goes to block your exit again, letting all control leave your body, the misplaced anger showing itself. “Because you’re a brat.” you say, your voice hardening. She opens her mouth but you shove your hand over her mouth, “No. See you don’t get to talk. Not this time. You can be a brat with your dick of a boyfriend. You can be a brat at work, home and anywhere else. But not with me. You don’t be a brat with me. Because you won’t like how I respond.” Your hand unknowingly lowers to her throat, “See if it were up to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Your hand begins tightening, “but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to be able to learn his place. So it’s his fault. With that being said, keep me out of your thoughts and keep my name out of your mouth. Because if you try this again-” Ed’s face appears over hers and you realize what you’re doing. You let go of her and sigh, your entire demeanor changing, “Just because he likes you doesn’t mean I have to.” You say softly, “Please stay away from me.”

“Ms. Kringle isn’t good for you.” You say, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think she’s worth it. Any of it.” You sigh, bending over to splash water in your face. This wasn’t going to work. No matter how many times you said it, no matter how many ways you said it; you’d never be able to say it to his face. ‘Maybe it’s me who’s not worth it.’ You think to yourself. Your mind goes back to all those times you’d protected him, he’d been protecting Kringle. Thinking about the way his face lit up when he saw her and even when he talked about her, made you realize it never did when he was with you. “All this time it was me.” You say softly. “I’ve been projecting myself on her this entire time. I’m not worth it.” You stare into the mirror, the face staring back confirming it. “I’m the one who’s not worth it.” Your knees buckle in realization. “Resigning?” Captain Essen asks, shock evident in her eyes. You nod your head in response, “Could I ask you why?” “Things have grown... toxic for me.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact, “I fear for my mental stability.” “I get that.” She says making you look up in surprise, which she returns with a smile. “I heard you held your own against Dougherty. He’s a pretty big guy, must take a toll on a person.” You look at her, eyebrow raised, at what she was implying. She smirks, walking over to you, “I like you Y/n. You’re one of my best detectives.” “But I barely do detective work. I mostly just file.” You admit. She shakes her head, “Nah, I still like ya.” She says, resting her arm over your shoulder, “Now bear with me.” She tosses your letter on the desk, “I’ll give you a week of paid suspension, then you can come back.” You open your mouth to protest but she shakes her head again, silencing you, “If you feel like you still don’t belong, then you can leave. Deal?” She raises an eyebrow, making you sigh. You nod, “Fine.” You start, trying to hide the smirk you felt inside, “But only because you’re my favorite Captain.” She chuckles, “I’m your only captain.” She retorts, smiling as she sits back down. “I guess it kinda works itself out then.” You add right before you leave, and as you go you can hear her laughter.

“Oh, hello.” A voice says, but again, you fight the instinct to look their way; this time for an entirely different reason, “It’s empty in here.” You inhale, your emotions beginning to bubble. “Yes.” you answer, heart heavy. “Well, I need a little help.” He says, teetering by the door. You pause, waiting for him to continue. You nod, signaling for him to continue, as you also continue placing items into your bag. “Well.” He says, pausing to think of how to phrase it, “I-I have been having trouble crafting the perfect riddle.” You pause, surprised, “F-for Ms. Kringle, I mean.” Your almost smile disappears, as tears begin pooling in your eyes. He continues talking as he begins to fidget, probably explaining his thought process, but you weren’t really listening. You were busying yourself, packing, a lame attempt at trying to keep yourself from breaking apart further. You inhale again, shakily this time, and your eyes betray you, leaking ever so slightly. “What do you think?” he asks, breaking through your wall of despair. You stare at the frame of you and Ed that you kept on your desk and wipe your eyes. You pull a fake smile, “It’ll be lovely.” You say, steadying yourself, “She should love it.” Your smile falls lopsided, and you pass by him, eyes glued to your feet.

You return home, placing your items near the door, knowing that you’d be trashing them eventually. Plopping onto the couch you sigh, relaxation finally settling in. But just as you begin to relax, the weight you carried hardened, and you began feeling it all; everything you ever held in, ever felt, never said released itself. And like a floodgate, the tears spilled.

“L/n,” Edward says looking at his clipboard, “I believe the best way-” He pauses, realizing you weren’t here. He looks around, perplexed, it had been three days, and you still hadn’t shown. Part of him grew worried, but he knew it couldn’t have been bad, could it?

“Captain Essen?” He calls, and she looks up at him, “What is it Edward?” She asks, scourging her desk for missing files. He pauses, unsure of how to phrase what he was thinking. “Yes, Edward?” She asks again, this time looking at him, her eyes ushering him to talk. He swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes favoring his feet, “The case files suggested that with the angle of the stab wound, the stab itself would have to have come from a suspect who is likely to be 5’9”.” He spat out, ridiculing himself for not asking what he originally intended to. Her eyebrows knit together, “Thank you Edward.” She says unsure if that was really his reason for entering. Nevertheless he turns to leave, no other words being uttered. She slumps into her chair, knowing that without Y/n’s help she wouldn’t find the files. Then it clicks, “Edward,” She calls and he pauses before he closes the door. “Yes?” He asks, peeking his head in, his face still solemn. She smiles softly at him, “She’s on paid suspension.”

A knock on the door startles you. Glancing around, you second guess whether you’d actually heard it or not. However, as you begin to doze off, the knock resounds again and you groan. "I’m coming!” you shout as you sluggishly force yourself off of the couch. You stretch as you walk and to your disdain they knock again, "I am coming to the door!” you sigh as you reach the doorknob. You hesitate, opting to instead look through the peephole. You stop, your nerves rising on edge, "Hello Nygma.” you call through the door, “YN." His voice calls, and your heart leaps, "You've not been to work in four days now.” "That’s correct.” ''I- is everything alright?” "Everything is fine.” You lie, and you can feel his hesitation, "I promise.” “Are-” he pauses, clearly unsure, “if..” another pause, "truly?” "Ed," you beckon, your heart racing, “I’m perfectly fine.” There's a shuffle behind the door, and you let go of the breath you’d been holding. He was gone, and a part of you left with him.

You awake to a familiar aroma. You enter your kitchen to find tupperware of what appeared to be your favorite food. “I didn’t…” you say aloud to yourself. You pause, trying to put things together. “Oh, that was me.” A voice says and you whip around quickly, but pause, seeing who it was. “S-sorry.” Edward stutters having noticed your fight stance. You feel your emotions swell as you relax your stance. “Why?” You ask as you slowly go to sit on the floor. “Why are you here Ed?” He pauses noticing your slow movements, “I, I still had a key. And I was just leaving I promise. I don’t want to bother you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I assumed you were just under the weather and I was worried that-” “I’m not ‘under the weather’ Edward. I’m fine.” You repeat, "I’m fine.” “Why do you keep saying that?” he asks, "You're not. a-and i’m not sure why, but please let me help.” "You can’t help.” “Why?” "Because you can’t.” “Why? Y/n, why?” “Because if you help me I might fall even farther in love with you!” You shout, finally cracking, tears stream from your eyes as you completely melt, your back against the floor, “because I’m in love with you.” you cover your face, “and you’re in love with her.” you pause catching your breath, “and you won’t stop being in love with her no matter what I say or do and it's not fair because she doesn’t even deserve you.” you sigh through your hands, “and I guess that means I don’t deserve you.” your tears finally begin to slow, but your heart fastens when you realize you couldn’t hear anything over your pathetic sobs. “You don’t deserve me,” his voice whispers, and had you not been listening for it--you wouldn’t have heard it. You inhale sharply, knowing that it was true, but not having wanted to hear it from his own mouth. You feel hands wrap around your wrists, swaying them from your face, “not when I don’t even deserve you.” Your eyes meet his, and you notice a glossiness to them. You reach a hand to his face, “You deserve to be happy.” You say, your brain finally accepting your false truth, “and if she is what makes you happy, then she’s worth it.” he chuckles softly, “You’re what makes me happy.” he says, eyes not leaving yours, “I’m” he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t see that.” You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off with a hug, “You’re worth it, because you make me happy, and I would rather lose a thousand Kringles than lose one you.” Your arms finally wrap around him, accepting the warm embrace you hadn’t known you needed.

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