#a friend from Prague just texted me and i saw that he sended me some text a few MONTHES ago but i never saw them until now

[neiyuu]

ok whats going on ? A few friends have been texting me to reconnect or just to chat and to get some news. 🥺

[jaz-xedarix]

The Return of the Star

Thank you so much for your patience and your nice words. I really appreciated them too much. 

So finally I have finished part II, and things are starting to get really interesting.

As I promised there’s a new coloring among the text, I really hope you like it, and I put another one, but a bit older, since I couldn’t resist to post it in this part XD

Thanks so much to @buffaloborgine​ and @trinity-blood-translations for helping me correct this text, your effort is valuable to me. Send you lots of love my friends.

Let’s get started.

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                                      II

The Istvan Opera House was located on Andrássy Street, the main avenue of the city. It was an old style building that had survived Armageddon. After the liberation battle, it was the first place restored by the archbishop, to serve as a public building for the citizens. 

The building was built in a magnificent and delicate Neo-Renaissance style. It was an imposing work that could be compared to the Scala in Milan, the Opernhaus in Vienna or the Státní in Prague. The facade had a secluded air, but once inside the decorations in gold and purple colors overwhelmed the visitor with their luxury. 

The “guest of honor” entrance that Esther passed through was no exception. In the boxes facing the wide stage, the rugs were so thick that they reached to the ankles, as if she were in a lavish palace. The walls were lined with works of art and all the furniture had been expressly imported from Rome or Florence. 

However, everything paled when compared to the beauty of the woman who was waiting for her sitting on the sofa. 

“Welcome, Sister Esther. You may be exhausted after the trip...” 

The Cardinal Caterina Sforza, Duchess of Milan, Secretary of State of the Vatican and head of its foreign policy, gave a friendly welcome to the nun. Telling her to sit on the couch that was in front, where the two priests was already sitting, she laid her cup of tea on the table. 

“I've was told you've had a difficult time with the media at the station. I am glad that you are well.” “Nothing happened… More than anything, it was a surprise that…” 

Looking into the gray eyes that smiled at her behind the monocle, the nun awkwardly shook her head like a puppet. For Esther, the Cardinal was a person almost as sacred as the Virgin. Every time she presented herself to her, she couldn't help but get nervous and tense. She brushed off the sweat she didn't have and continued in an uneasy voice: 

“Your Eminence, the journalists called me Saint… what kind of joke is this? And why am I the protagonist of the play that is going to be performed here tonight?” “We'll talk about all that later...” Adjusting her monocle, the beautiful woman looked up at the stage, the curtain still closed, and sighed. “His Holiness will be here shortly. He is accompanied by the Minister of Information, who is the one who has organized all this. I myself know only part of the story. It will be better if he tell us all about it in person… What I want to hear now is what news you bring me from the Empire.” 

The cardinal spoke with the usual serenity. However, her voice had hardened slightly as she turned her gaze back to the nun and priest, as she crossed her legs under her habit.

“Were you able to contact the empress?” “Yes, we have to inform you about it.” Esther steadied herself and her voice changed as she began to recite the report that she had been rehearsing mentally in the way: “We were fortunate enough to have direct contact with the Empress in...” “Well, the truth is that we couldn't speak to her directly…” 

Everything Esther had prepared came to nothing when the other voice interrupted her, preventing her from speaking.

“Eh!?” She didn't even have time to stop him. As he turned to the voice, she saw that Abel was still speaking with an irrepressible verbiage, which did not leave her a space to intervene.

“We did our best to deliver Her Eminence's message in person, but, of course, meeting the Empress in person was beyond our means. Even so, you need not worry, because we asked a local noblewoman, the Marquise of Kiev, Astharoshe Asran, whom I already knew before, to serve as an intermediary. The message will have reached its destination; you can be sure of it.” “Ah? Bu... Father... Wait a minute...” But what was he saying!? Esther nervously adjusted her habit as if to signal him, but Abel did not stop chattering for an instant, gesturing exaggeratedly with his hands.  “Yes, we suffered the unspeakable to achieve it. Abroad, right? One does not know how things are done... To fulfill our mission we spend our days without stopping running up and down... tears come to my eyes just remembering it now that I tell you, and without doubt, you will cry too... Imagine, I lost three kilograms!” 

Where did all this nonsense come from? Esther managed to come to herself and resist the curiosity to see how far the priest would be able to go. 

“Wait... wait, father! Stop speaking nonsense!” She did not know what this foolishness was about, but if it continued like this, Caterina would end up thinking that they had not seen the Empress. Covering Abel's mouth with her hand, Esther yelled in the direction of the Cardinal:

“Ignore him, Your Eminence! We do…”

«We did speak directly to the Empress!» Just when Esther, red with exertion, was about to shout that phrase...

“Cardinal Sforza, I beg your pardon...” An elegant male voice echoed out as the door opened. Looking up, the Cardinal met a man who was greeting her respectfully and who was leading a group of three people. He was middle-aged and wore the purple sash on his habit that indicated his status as archbishop.

“Forgive us for interrupting your conversation, Your Eminence. His Holiness and Cardinal Borgia have arrived.” “Hello Beautiful!” The second voice would seem to have been made up of a frivolous shake spiced with kitsch. It was hard to imagine anyone less suited to wear the Cardinal habit than the young man with long dyed hair and a nasal voice who had just entered. This was Antonio Borgia, the Minister of Information. “How long, right?! Makes sooo much that I did not see how fantastic you are that seems that my aesthetic sense have atrophied, you know? How are we doing?” “Good afternoon, Cardinal Borgia. I see you are very happy. If I'm not mistaken, we met the day before yesterday in Rome, right?” 

Responding sharply to the young man, Caterina turned her gaze to the third figure in the group. Seeing the face of the teenager coming up behind the two men, her cold gaze softened. 

“Ah, Alec…! How was the flight? Are you dizzy again?” “Y..., y... yes, sister...” Dressed with beautiful white clothes, the Pope Alessandro XVIII spoke with a low voice. In addition to being extremely shy around people, to the point of bordering on autism, get out of Rome or even out of the Papal Palace supposed one horrible adventure for him. Anyways, the face of his sister seemed to calm him a bit, because he went on, stammering: 

“I..., I got dizzy a b..., a little... b... but now I'm fi... I'm fine...” “Really? But you don't have very good color. I'll make someone to prepare some medicine for you... Wait, I'll take the opportunity to make the introductions, since we're all here. This is Sister Esther from the Secretary of State. She is the Saint of Istvan” 

Exhorted by Caterina, the nun saluted respectfully. “Nice to meet you. It is an honor to be in your presence, Holiness.”All Vatican employees knew of the reserved character of the pope. In order not to startle him, Esther spoke in a calm voice as she placed a light kiss on his hand.“I am not worthy of you granting me the grace to kneel before you... “ “Ah...! N..., no...” At the touch of the young woman's lips, the pope went from pale to flushed. His breathing quickened, as if he were going to have a heart attack, and he withdrew his hand in embarrassment. ”And…, and…, I… And…, and…, I…, I…”

“Holiness, you must be tired...” said the first man who had entered, placing his hand on the shoulder of the babbling teenager. Maybe half a century of his life had already passed, but his face had manly features that surely wreaked havoc on the opposite sex when he was young. With an attentive expression, he made the young Pope sit on the sofa.

“The show will take a while to start. Get some rest here. If you allow me, I will handle the speech.” “Thank you, Archbishop D'Annunzio...” 

Before Esther's eyes, the Pope was panting hard, as if he were going to have a panic attack or something. The one who wiped the sweat from his forehead to reassure him was Caterina. 

“Forgive me for putting you through something like this, but this ceremony took so much effort that...” “Oh, does not matter! It is an honor to be able to do our bit to the work of her eminence and the Vatican.”

 Emanuele D'Annunzio, Archbishop of Istvan, smiled kindly as he took Caterina’s hand. After kissing her like a gentleman kisses a lady, he turned his serene green eyes to her beautiful face.  “I wrote the script for tonight's play myself. I am afraid that it will not be up to the refined taste of Her Eminence, but it will be my honor that you listen to it... I do not know how the representation will turn out, but...” “It'll be great, you know? Sure: super, super good.” 

The one who responded in this way to the humble words of the archbishop was not Caterina, but the other cardinal present. Antonio, adjusting his bangs, continued with a slightly annoyed voice.  “Because, hey, haven't we helped you with production from the Ministry? I mean, the stage, and the direction, and the actors... Aaaaall of it it’s super mega first class. So if it goes wrong, it will be because of the script, you know?” “We will be forever grateful for your support, Cardinal Borgia. It is an honor that you have dedicated your valuable time to our representation...”

D'Annunzio's words were kind, but there was a hint of provocation in his tone. His green gaze was fixed on the young man, like an adult lion facing the cub that wants to take his place. 

“Today's ceremony is very important to us, because our recovery will serve to show it to the world. Its success will also serve to show the power of the Vatican… We hope to continue having the support of the Ministry of Information from now on.” “...” 

Although the tone was defiant, it could not be said that there was anything really wrong from the archbishop's words. Antonio was silent, something strange in him, as if not knowing what to answer, clearly feeling the difference in maturity that existed between him and his interlocutor. 

In his fifties, Archbishop D'Annunzio was an experienced man who had played a crucial role in the Vatican since the time of the previous Pope Gregorio XXX. As the right hand of Alfonso d'Este, who was then head of the College of Cardinals, he had held important positions as Director of the Holy Inquisition and Chief Secretary of the Vatican. In his spare time he had written dozens of novels and more than two hundred plays, and was considered one of the literary geniuses of his time. However, his brilliance had provoked the envy of Alfonso, who ended up moving him away from the center. His fame was surpassed only by Cardinals Medici and Sforza, the Pope's stepsiblings. No one but a skilled politician would have gotten Istvan city reborn from its ruins just a year after the catastrophe of The Star of Sorrow.

“Ah, but I have not yet greeted the main guest...” 

After silencing the young man, the archbishop turned quickly to Esther, who was silently observing the dialectical combat between the two high religious positions.

“This is the first time we met, but I know you very well, Sister Esther. I beg your pardon for having you come from so far away.” “Ple…pleased to meet you, Your Excellency...” Esther rose, embarrassed, from the sofa at the friendly smile of the priest and lowered her head, blushing at his manly features.“I am much honored that you invited me. It is an honor to meet you personally.” “Not at all, the honor is mine for being able to greet the Saint in person. I did extensive research on you to write this script. I've been dreaming of meeting you for a long time, but... the truth is that you have surprised me. I didn't think you were so beautiful...”       “I… beautiful? Not at all…” 

At the Archbishop's compliments, Esther buried her head deeply and turned even more red. Half confused, half flustered, she looked around for Abel to come to her aid. “It's the first time I've been invited to a box of honor at the opera, but hey, what a sight! Heh heh, I feel like God...” 

The priest was lost in his thoughts, observing the theater, and did not realize that the nun was looking at him. In her imagination, Esther kicked him on the back, while scratching her head, wondering how to respond to the archbishop.

“May I ask you not to call me Saint? It's a too important word that I don't deserve at all...” “You don't deserve it? You are too modest, sister… ” D'Annunzio replied, still smiling, as if enjoying the young woman's bewilderment. Extending his hand to fix her cap, the archbishop looked at her with mischievous face “You are the holy maiden who protected the people and killed the evil demon... As Archbishop of Istvan I cannot be grateful enough. Tonight's performance is my humble attempt to help your feat remain in the memory of future generations.”  “I am very grateful to you, but...” 

With a tight smile, Esther awkwardly shook her head. Her face had suddenly lost its rosy color. Saint Esther? What all that was about? 

She murmured that inside her with downcast eyes, it wasn't just because the name disgusted her.  

A year ago a man had expired in her arms. He was someone who had loved his human wife, someone who had decided to fight the world as revenge because the humans themselves had taken the woman he loved from him. 

The “evil demon” that D'Annunzio referred to was that being. Esther had been elevated to the category of Saint for the "feat" of having killed him, but there was something that did not convince her. All this seemed like a farce in which she did not want to be involved... 

“Ah, by the way, Your Eminence, what about Cardinal Medici? I thought he was also going to be present at the ceremony for the fallen...” “Unfortunately, his commitments do not allow him to leave Rome. He said he would send a representative, but… still not arrived?” 

D'Annunzio and Caterina began to talk about practical matters. Relieved that she was no longer the center of the conversation, Esther turned her eyes to the audience. 

More than a thousand spectators filled the theater. They were all famous people from the city, but Esther didn't recognize any faces. During the reconstruction of Istvan, D'Annunzio had given preferential treatment to the industrialists of Rome and Venice to install their factories and banks in the city. The attendees were all rich people of that kind. The echoes of the conversations that were heard were not in Hungarian, but mainly in the official language of Rome. 

The curtain was still down, but the actors could be seen waiting behind the scenes, probably to come out to say hello before the performance. Among them was a smiling young nun, the heroine portrayed in the flier. The hunchback next to her would be the Marquis of Hungary. The sinister makeup highlighted his monstrous appearance and showed long predator fangs. It couldn't be clearer that he was the bad guy in the story. 

The fragile and beautiful heroine would go through many difficulties, but in the end she would defeat the monster and bring peace to the city. It was such a predictable story that just by seeing the actors you could already imagine. 

But… 

«But the fight end was much more complex», thought Esther, grabbing unconsciously the rosary that hung from her neck.                                                                                                                                                                        «It’s not the urge to kill. I don't have such bad taste as to enjoy killing others. This is a fight for life» 

The man who had said those words was not a mere “evil demon”, nor had Esther fought him for strictly holy motives. There were still many things that she did not fully understand, but it was clear that this had been a struggle for survival. If she had lost, it would have been Esther and her companions who would have died. Yet the young girl couldn't get a question out of her head: «Was it really an inevitable conflict?» 

A nun like her couldn't ask such a question out loud. As long as she worked for the Vatican, a doubt like that was tantamount to questioning her own identity...

“Eh?”

Esther was lost in her thoughts for one moment, but at once came back to herself. Among the actors who had gathered in one corner of the stage, a figure that had gone out discreetly from behind the curtain of the opposite corner had called her attention. 

 It was one girl more or less of the same age of Esther, she had brown skin, an unusual color in the region, and her hair of a raven black. The combination of the daring opening of her dress with the long gloves decorated with precious stones gave her an extremely dramatical air. But what attracted the interest of Esther was neither her figure nor the clothes she wore. Those purple eyes that glowed in the well-proportioned face... she had seen them before somewhere. 

“That girl looks familiar to me...” “Is there something wrong, Esther?”

The voice that echoed behind her was of the lanky priest, who was wandering absent-mindedly around the royal box. As he devoured with his eyes the plate of tea pastries next to the young woman, he asked:

“Suddenly you were silent, doing that face… Oh, do you have a stomach ache? Do you want me to eat those pastries? I don't mind doing you that favor...” “No,” Esther replied dryly, cutting off the priest and added, pointing at the girl with her finger: “Doesn't that girl looks like someone familiar to you, father? I've seen that face already... and not long ago.” “Eh, what girl?” The priest asked in an intrigued voice, and looking where Esther was pointing, he looked confused. “I don't see any girl… Ah, you mean that actress over there?” “No, I mean, the one that has come from the other si... Huh?”  

When she looked back to the stage, Esther furrowed her brow, as well as Abel. The female figure that she had seen an instant before had disappeared. “But how strange... she was there a moment ago...” “Wow! Is that the actress who plays your role? I had seen her in the flyer, but in live she is even more beautiful!” Abel had already lost all interest in Esther and was absorbed in watching the group of actors. He made no effort to hide the drool from looking at the actress. "But what a beauty! Both in style and in attractive it is much better than the original… Ah, but don't be angry, Esther. It is undeniable that she is much more beautiful, elegant and seductive than you, but you have your special appeal. You don't have to worry.” “I have to take that as a compliment!?” 

Esther put the cup of tea on the plate, ready to answer the priest as he deserved, but...

“Ah! The representation is about to begin...” murmured the Archbishop, raising the eyes to the clock and got up to say goodbye to the Pope and the Cardinals. “Holiness, Eminences, I hope you enjoy with the performance. Excuse me, I will give the welcome the public... Come on, Sister Esther.” “What!? Me?” 

Esther was stunned, pointing her finger at herself as she blinked in surprise.Why did she have to accompany the archbishop to greet those people?Seeing the nun's confusion, the archbishop smiled and in a sweet voice, he dropped the bomb:  “Let's greet the audience together… I suppose you have prepared a little speech.” “Sa... say hello to...? A speech!?” 

At those completely unexpected words, Esther was dumbfounded. It was a joke? He couldn't expect for her to just come out on stage in front of the crowd and improvise a speech! 

“Wait ... wait! It's a bit hasty...” “But haven't you come prepared? How clueless my Saint is... Well, what can we do? As I assumed something like this could happen, I have allowed myself the freedom to prepare a small draft. You just have to read it.” “Eh…? But…” 

The archbishop seemed to be completely serious and handed her a pile of papers. Esther received them without knowing very well what to do and looked doubtfully to the priest, looking for his help...

“Ah, Esther! If you go on stage, can you ask that actress to sign an autograph for me?” Let it say,«To Father Nightroad, sweetheart» or something like that, okay? Heh heh heh...!” “!” 

Saving her killer instinct for later Esther heaved a deep breath.There was no way out of it.            

 "Ugh, I'm late!"

Although it was still early November, the winter cold had already fallen on Istvan. Gloomy clouds covered the sky, and although the building was supposed to be equipped with heating, the white breath of the people walking through the lobby of the Opera House could be seen. 

However, the male figure that rushed into the hall seemed immune to all of it. From the gigantic man who crossed the room devastating the carpet emanated a suffocating sensation of summer heat. It goes without saying that such a figure attracted all eyes, as if a monster from another world had suddenly appeared in the room; but the man seemed oblivious to it and advanced with a hard look, as if he were entering enemy territory. 

“What a misery to have suffered a setback precisely when I am representing Cardinal Medici! This mistake can be very expensive, Petros!” 

Dressed in the uniform of a secret police officer, Brother Petros looked up at the clock as if observing an ancient enemy. Although there were still twenty minutes until the start of the performance, he had committed a very serious fault by not having arrived before His Holiness made his entrance. 

Anyway, he had only arrived in the city a few minutes ago, sent by his superior, who had too many business holding him back in Rome. He had not arrived by air, like the Pope, but had taken the land route. The planned inspection of the military facilities had taken him longer than planned, and that had caused the delay. 

Although the inspection had been satisfactory, it was scandalous that the director of the Holy Inquisition arrived after the papal retinue. No doubt a severe reprimand from Francesco awaited him when he returned. If it was just a row that awaited him... There was one other thing that Petros had to worry about... 

“Where will the honor box be?  Eh…? Where the hell am I?” 

As soon as he went through the lobby, Petros stopped. He had to accept that he was lost and began to look around, but none of the doors he saw were the ones he was looking for. 

Indeed, he did not know where he was. He had stormed across the lobby, but had no idea how to get to the honor box. Resigned to search blindly, he began to scan the surroundings with a fierce grin, to see if he could find any sign, but could do nothing more than make a passing child cry.

 The issue was that the box of honor was not accessible from the general entrance but it had its own access, but Il Ruinante had no way of knowing that. He gritted his teeth and prepared to undo his way when...  

“Oh!”

Behind the intrepid warrior monk came a small cry of pain. 

Turning around, Petros had collided head-on with a girl who was walking behind him. The girl fell on her back to the carpet, dropping what she was carrying. 

“Aaah! Forgive me, sister! How clumsy you are, Petros!” 

The man tried to apologize as he picked up the papers, which had been strewn down the hall. The nun was still moaning on the floor, clutching her bonnet.

 “Excuse my ineptitude! Are you OK? Eh? You!?” As he helped the nun to stand up, Petros' face changed as he roared in surprise at his interlocutor, who was still reeling: “You are Esther Blanchett!” “Ah, brother… Petros, right?” Moved by the violence with which the inquisitor had spoken her name, the young woman stepped back, raising her tearful gaze to Il Ruinante, and bowed to him. “We haven't seen each other for a long time… Ah, thanks again for your support in Carthage.” “No, please, I'm the one who owes you... But what am I saying?!” Petros began to respond to the greeting automatically, but quickly came back to himself. This was not the time to chat! “Esther Blanchett! What are you doing here!? This is not the place for you!” 

Finally the nun straightened with surprise in her eyes. “Well, I was getting ready for the speech. Archbishop D'Annunzio has ordered me to greet the audience with a few words and was reviewing the script...” “Has the archbishop ordered it? Impossible. How can it be that...?” Laughing like if he was talking to a little girl, Petros glanced at the script, his expression suddenly turning from skepticism to surprise. Topping the sheets was… the archbishop's seal!? The inquisitor began hastily reading the text. “Wha... but what...?! «Before all of you gathered here I want to raise my voice to denounce...»”

«Before all of you gathered here, I want to raise my voice to denounce that there is pure Evil in the world. I want to raise my voice to say that as long as that Evil is not exterminated, we will have no future. We must unite to fight and defend everything we love, everything we respect. It will be a difficult and tough fight, but all united in our Faith we must face…».

 It was unbelievable, but it seemed to be, indeed, the script of a speech. And it took up almost fifty pages. The tone was a bit affected and overly dramatic, but the closing archbishop's signature seemed authentic. 

“Hmmm! And the archbishop signed it... But I can't believe it! Why did he ask you to…!?” He said, looking at the nun with suspicious eyes. “Are you plotting against me!? Tell me the truth or you will regret it!” “Eh? The truth is that I have no idea what you are talking about for a while now...”

The young woman scratched her head, honestly confused. It was like talking to a drunk who did nothing but repeat the same story. 

“It's not that I don't find it strange to be here, really. First I receive a notice from the Duchess of Milan to come to Istvan, then they ask me to give a speech... The truth is that the...” “The Duchess of Milan… Cardinal Sforza!?” Petros reacted quickly to the young woman's words. The Cardinal... what was that viper up to? 

Actually, Petros was most concerned about what the Pope's stepsister might do during the visit. Taking advantage of the absence of Cardinal Medici, she could try to manipulate His Holiness or do some strange maneuver... He had to be prepared for anything, and the facts gave him reasons to suspect. So the viper had already set off... But he would not trip over the same stone of Carthage again. This time they would not escape from him! 

Staring at the nun, who was staring at him in bewilderment, Petros clenched his fist. That witch had played with him in Carthage. Just when he was about to uncover her plot, all evidence had been destroyed. He knew with certainty that she had had contact with the vampires, although it had escaped him at the last moment. But this time he would catch her. He would discover what is she plotting around the Pope and would denounce it to the world!

 “Ah, there you are, Sister Esther...” 

A cold voice roused the inquisitor from his inflamed musings. It was an elegant male voice, interrupting him as if to protect the nun. 

“I've been looking for you for a while. Eh? I think we've met before… What brings the Inquisition here, Brother Pietro Orsini?” “Yo... Your Excellence!” Hearing his secular name after so long, Petros turned as if an electric current had passed through his body. Seeing the archbishop approaching, he gave a forced salute. “How long! What a joy to see you again!” “Yes, a long time, Orsini. The last time we saw each other was when I left my charge as Director of the Inquisition, right? You were just a kid and look at you now. How time flies!” “I will never be grateful enough for your advice and your attention back then!” Said Petros, bowing deeply, as if he were a spring doll. 

Il Ruinante’s sword was feared inside and outside the Vatican, but there were four people he bowed his head to. One of them was Archbishop D'Annunzio. 

“Please excuse my delay. The review of the troops has taken me longer than I had calculated and the roads were collapsed...” “You can tell me that later...” the archbishop cut him immediately, turning around and say with sweet voice to Esther, who was watching them in astonishment. “Sister Esther, have you had a chance to read the script? It’s almost time for your speech. Let's go up on stage.”  “Yes, I have read the text…” replied the nun, embarrassed, taking the papers that the inquisitor had returned to her with an impetuous gesture. “But, Your Excellence, am I really supposed to read that speech?” “Eh? What do you mean, sister?” 

The archbishop was surprised to see the dark light that had covered the young woman's eyes, and asked with a cautious expression: “You don't like the parliament I have prepared for you? Does it not meet your literary expectations?” “No, is not that. It is wonderfully written and conveys the ideas very well… But the message…” The nun choked with her words… After hesitating and stammering for a few seconds, she looked up, determined. “Why make such a clear call to war? A year ago we fought the Marquis of Hungary, it is true. But it was a pure struggle for survival. We did not think of pretty phrases like «divine glory» or «security of human society»...” “Ah, that's what you mean...” D'Annunzio interrupted the young woman's fiery voice with great serenity. The archbishop's smile keep its charm, but his tone had a certain inhuman echo. “You don't have to take it so seriously, Sister Esther. The public gathered here tonight have not come to hear the truth. What they expect is a dramatic and exciting story… They want the story of the heroic maiden who struck down the evil vampire. Isn't it our obligation to meet those expectations?” “B... but...” “Listen to me, Saint...” D'Annunzio silenced Esther with a gesture and shook his head. The hallway had begun to fill up, and the archbishop lowered his voice, returning greetings to passing guests. “You are a very sweet girl, Esther. I fully understand that you don't like harsh words. But think about it for a moment. Although it has recovered a lot this year, Istvan is still going through difficult times. The life of the citizens, your compatriots, is still very hard. Think how important it would be for them to have a heroine...” 

The archbishop placed a very white hand on her shoulder as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Esther Blanchett, you must be their Saint. You must be the image that encourage their hearts. You must be the strength and the hope of all those you love, of all humanity. I will show you how.” “...”

Esther was doubtful at the powerful words of the archbishop, after opening and closing her lips as if not knowing what to say, the girl sighed deeply.

“Good. I'll try.” “Good girl.” Nodding with satisfaction, D'Annunzio opened the door that led to the stage.“Sister Esther, it's time to go on stage. The public awaits you.” “OK…”

«The public awaits you». She would have felt joyful, but the worried expression of the girl did not changed. Even it could be said that the suffering is evident in her face. Anyways, Esther began to walk dragging her feet. She went through the door the archbishop had opened for her and disappeared down the dark corridor. 

 After closing the door, D'Annunzio made a sarcastic face. 

“What a difficult Saint to handle... one breaks one's back to turn her it into a star, and she, in return, complains...” “Ah?”  At the archbishop's cold laugh, Petros looked up in surprise. Opening the door again, D'Annunzio said in a clear voice, to the surprise of his former subordinate: “I never know how to treat smart ass girls. It's so boring having to lecture them like that… The tools should be quiet and just do what they are asked to do…” “A tool...? Your Excellence, when you say «tool» do you mean that girl? And what does it mean to «turn her into a star»?” 

Petros asked in astonishment. So he didn't really think she was a Saint? 

“Ah! So the director of the Inquisition is still there...” 

The Archbishop of Istvan turned as if he was seeing a stranger and responded with the tone of someone who had just discovered a stain on his clothing.

“You heard me perfectly. Saint Esther is nothing more than an image created by the Vatican. It is a huge fiction promoted through the management of the media and the investment of large amounts of money...”

 The bishop spoke confidently in the dark corridor, as if explaining everything to a tough-minded subordinate.  “As you know, the Vatican is losing power over the secular states. To stop this trend, it is necessary to regain the center of social attention. Creating a Saint is part of that project. Esther Blanchett is nothing more than a tool for our plans...” 

«You shall not worship idols», the Bible made it very clear. Didn't the archbishop know? D'Annunzio spoke as if he did not feel any apprehension or guilt for playing with the life of a girl and the faith of millions of people like that. “Besides, as a tool, it's first class. Her past is impeccable, and it doesn't hurt that she's so pretty… She has a very cute face, don't you think, Orsini?” “Eh? Well, I wouldn't know...”  At the knight's embarrassment, the archbishop looked at him with mocking eyes. “You don't know about that? Well, it doesn't matter… I have to introduce my Saint to the public. Orsini, you can go to the box of honor. Then we will talk about your delay. Get ready.”  

D'Annunzio turned, dropping those cold words, and reached for the door that led to the stage.

“Ah!?”

Frightened, Petros started to run away from his former superior, but just as he was about to give a farewell bow, he remembered that he still had something to ask him about. “Your Excellence... I really have a question to ask you before I present myself before His Holiness.”  Half-closing the door, the archbishop turned with an annoyed gesture at the voice of his exasperating interlocutor.  “What?”

D'Annunzio's voice was reminiscent of a teacher announcing to a student that he had failed. Petros barely repressed his desire to flee and ran from the archbishop just to ask: “I have just reviewed the City Guard, but… Your Excellence, what does this deployment mean? I have seen a complete division or even more. What about those tanks and aircraft!?” D'Annunzio continued walking as if he was unaware of the alarm that echoed in Il Ruinante's words.  “I admire how you have managed to reform in just one year an organization that had been completely destroyed. But for a public order force it is a bit out of proportion. Is there something going wrong?” “Eh? What is going to go wrong?” The archbishop stopped for the first time.

 Twisting his mouth, he answered coldly to Petros’ puzzled gaze. “Certainly the Guard's strength now exceeds what it was a year ago. Nobody hides it. But if the situation of the city is taken into consideration, it cannot be said that they are sufficient. After all, Istvan is the central column of the Vatican's eastern defense line. Their defensive potential has to be as great as possible... don't you think?” “If you will allow me to speak frankly, I think there is a problem of magnitude! The Second Division of the Vatican Army is deployed in this area, which is responsible of the defense work. The City Guard should only perform police functions. What is the point of equipping the police as if it were an army?”

The only response Petros' fiery speech got was a cold smile.  “Well, well, I see that you still don't understand anything, Orsini...” 

The archbishop made no effort to hide the malice and contempt on his face. As if he felt sorry for the stupidity of his interlocutor, he made a face, laughing through his nose. “Yes, there is an army division stationed here. But in the event of war, those troops will leave the region. Won't Istvan have to defend itself, then? That is why we have increased the strength of the Guard... Of course it costs us a lot of resources, but that is why we can’t afford to reduce it.” “But that dismantles all the plans of Rome and Cardinal Medici! Also, you speak of war, but now that the region has stabilized, where is the risk of war going to come from? Neighboring countries respect the authority of the Vatican and there is no sign of any disturbance to happen so...” “Brother Petros!!!” 

The scream echoed like an ice whip. Throwing a defiant look at the inquisitor, the archbishop harshly carved his words into the dark air of the hall.  “Are you the Director of the Holy Inquisition and you don't understand something like that!? Have you forgotten who the mortal enemy of humanity is!? Have you forgotten that this Empire of terrible devils is next to us!? If you've forgotten, I'll remind you. Never forget: this is Istvan, the front line of the battle against vampires!” “Ah…? But...” 

Anyone who had attended their dialogue would have been frozen in surprise.Il Ruinante, known as the most implacable man in the Vatican, had fallen silent. 

When he noticed Petros is not going to reply, the archbishop softened his expression. “Well, I don't want to lecture you anymore. Go back to the lobby. Didn't you come to escort His Holiness? That's all you're worth for. At least accomplish the mission you've been given.” “Y... yes! With your permission...” Gritting his teeth, Petros bowed. 

He was not at all convinced by the reasons given by his former superior, but he had no proper reply at the time. He didn't have time either. He turned towards the exit when... Just then the door closed in front of him. And, as if they were waiting for that moment, the guards locked the door from outside.

“Hey…”

Had they locked him up!? Petros looked around him, bewildered. The doors that led to the stalls were all closed with bolt. The lighting in the hall began to dim as the lighting on the stage took hold. The warrior priest then heard the sound of the presenter's voice through the microphone: 

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Istvan Opera House! In a few moments the Star of Sorrow will begin before all of you.”

“Petros, you are so clumsy!” 

The inquisitor began to get nervous. He had to find a way to get to the Pope's box as soon as possible! However, as much as he searched everywhere he was not able to find an open door. Apparently the security measures were meant to keep the public effectively locked inside the theater. 

He actually couldn’t make someone to open one of the doors invoking his authority as head of the Inquisition, if he did it, that would divert the attention of the speech that was about to start on the stage, and when they found out, the archbishop would scold him again some more. 

“Before we start, the author of the script will say a few words of welcome… His Excellene the Archbishop of Istvan, Emanuele D'Annunzio!” “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” 

While Il Ruinante was sweating while desperately looking for a way out, the welcome speech had begun on stage. Taking the microphone, the Archbishop smiled with all his virile charm. However, the voice that began to echo through the room had the serenity of a servant of God. 

“Welcome everyone. It has been a year since I received my appointment as Archbishop of this city. The road has not been easy, but with the help of the Lord and the collaboration of all of you, we have managed to happily overcome all the difficulties that have been presented to us so far. During this year we have defended in Istvan the glory of the Lord, who brought us a girl. I think we can be proud of it.” 

After uttering those phrases almost without breathing, the archbishop was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes as if he were remembering all the efforts of that year and raised his face to the ceiling. Petros realized that this was not more than a theatrical gesture, but the audience seemed to understand it as one reaction of sincere religious piety. Some mature women even began to sob quietly in the excitement.  Then, after checking that the entire room had gone completely silent, the archbishop opened his eyes again. Still smiling serenely, he raised his right arm to point to the small figure waiting at the base of the stage. 

“Tonight I am moved to have the opportunity to express our appreciation to the person who made the rebirth of this city possible. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the heroine who freed Istvan from the evil monster! Our hope before the devils that threaten us! Sister Esther Blanchett, Saint of Istvan!”

As thunderous applause rose, the hesitant figure of the nun appeared, equipped with a microphone. Blinking because of the bright spotlights and shrugging, the girl looked tiny in the middle of the huge stage, as if she were just a child.

 «She's just a poor kid…» Petros thought as he watched Esther walk across the stage. Come to think of it, the poor girl deserved his compassion for many reasons.First, because she belonged to the Ministry of Vatican Foreign Affairs, which was the lair of that witch, Caterina Sforza. Besides, she had to work with those agents, who had a horrible reputation of being sacrilegious. He couldn't imagine how she could lead a pious life as a nun between them. 

Above all, the entire show that night had not been sought by her, but had been implicated by the surroundings of D'Annunzio. At her young age, being worshiped as a Saint and being commissioned to make a speech to such an audience could only be considered a misfortune. 

“Uh... uh... Go... good night to every... Oh, no...! Good evening, la… ladies and gentlemen. It is an honor to introduce myself to you. I am Esther Blanchett. I do not have words to express my gratitude for this opera to be performed in my honor...”

  While Il Ruinante looked at her with compassionate eyes, the nun had started babbling. The inquisitor’s heart cringed just to see how her forehead was beaded in sweat and how her blue eyes were moving full of insecurity. Trying to smile faintly, the young lady put on the table the script that the archbishop had given to her before. Just when she deployed the first pages and prepared to start reading... the tragedy happened. 

“Ah!?”

The first thing that echoed through the speakers was a small groan. The pages of the script Esther was going to read flew across the stage. 

“No!” Cried Petros, as the papers fluttered like leaves blown up in the wind.Had she forgotten to re-tie the rope that held the pages together? The nun was trying to pick them up in haste, but many had already fallen off the stage. The girl's tensed face had lost all traces of color. But Petros and the rest of the audience didn't have to hold their breath for long. 

At first, the nun was so stunned that she couldn't even speak, it was natural.

 Having to improvise a speech in front of such a crowd, and also being people of such power in society… Even a veteran politician would have found it difficult. How could it cost to a girl who had just turned eighteen? 

In view of the events, no one would have criticized her if she had fled the stage. But the Saint did not.Biting her lip as if she had made up her mind, she rose to her feet, adjusting the hem of her habit. She was still a little pale, but a powerful light shone in her blue eyes. As if attracted by that look, the audience's attention was concentrated on the girl's face when she began to speak... 

“I beg your pardon for my clumsiness… The fear of speaking in front of so many people has left me a little stunned…” Esther began in a vigorous, almost savage voice. “A play will be performed in my honor tonight and I want to express my enormous gratitude to you for taking the time to attend the performance”.

Was this the same nervous nun who had trembled a few minutes earlier? Esther addressed the audience with her head up, as if all the perplexity of before had disappeared. 

“Well, to be improvising she does it very well...” Petros said to himself with admiration, as he looked for the archbishop with his eyes. At the backstage, D'Annunzio seemed to be more tense than before, but he was still looking at the young woman with a satisfied smile. As the nun had read the script before, a few as she remembered, things would go more or less as he had planned. Petros expected the same when he looked back at the girl. She would probably invoke God and the Vatican, would praise the courage of the combatants a year ago and call those present to remain united. If she said that, nothing would be noticed... 

“Thank you all. That was my intention... But now I have changed my mind...”

It would take a long time for Petros to forget how the atmosphere in the room changed with just that short sentence.What she’s going to tell them!? Glancing to the backstage, he saw how the archbishop had stiffened, staring at the nun in amazement, as if observing a ceramic doll that had suddenly begun to speak. 

Esther was not looking at the archbishop, but at the room full of spectators. In her pupils were reflected the innumerable puzzled faces that had been nailed to her. The audience seemed hypnotized by the words of the Saint, who whispered slowly:  “I have come to pray with all of you for the souls of those who shed their blood in battle a year ago. For that I have returned here, to my city.”  The voice was not overly powerful, but it completely dominated the room, where not a cough was heard. Without being too high or too low, it filled the air with a clean and serene feeling. It was the perfect example of a pleasant voice. As proof of this, when hearing her, Petros had completely forgotten that he had to go to the royal box, nothing further from his mind at the moment than to get away from there.

Il Ruinante had been lost in thought, listening to the flow of that voice.

“A year ago, we got a lot of blood flowing. Blood of our comrades, blood of our enemies… It was a horrible battle. But then I thought there was no other option. To survive you had to fight. We couldn't help but spilling that blood. In those moments it seemed that we were at a crossroads between life and death. Yes, that was really the situation. That's why we took up the sword... But now, a year later, I have the feeling that «there was no other option» is not a sufficient explanation for that fight...”

Esther was silent for a moment after the long speech. At the view of the girl closing briefly her eyelids to soak in those memories, Petros thought that this nun did not seem at all like the girl that he knew. More than someone alive, it recalled to the images of Saints that appeared in the murals and religious paintings of the cathedrals.  When she opened her eyes again, a sweet but intense light shone on them. Looking at the audience, which was in absolute silence, she continued with a calm voice. 

“During that battle I met one person... one person who back then was my enemy. He was the man I was trying to kill. But he also believed he had to kill to me to survive.” 

Her expression could not be said to be very refined, nor the sound of the words to be very beautiful. In spite of this, there was nobody in the room that was not captivated by the voice of the Saint. None of those celebrities and distinguished people uttered a single word. They were all focused, listening to the girl, who kept talking as if this was the most normal thing in the world.  

“But it wasn't true, no one should have died; However, due to a misunderstanding, at first, both he and I thought that we had to kill ourselves to survive… And not only him. I believe that among those we killed and who killed us there were many like him. Many who laughed like us, cried like us. Many who we hated. All possibilities were destroyed by a misunderstanding.” 

Perhaps it was the memory of that man that made a trace of suffering appear in the serene voice of the girl. The audience also felt the sting of that painful memory in their chest. Looking ahead, Esther spoke without hurrying, without forcing the words, penetrating every corner of the hearts of the attendees.

“Ladies and gentlemen, distrust yourselves. Be suspicious of justice. Maybe we are too simple. Be suspicious of your ideas about justice in the world. Are they really correct? Aren't they often just what we want to believe? Don't we impose them on our neighbor many times? Be suspicious. Mistrusting these issues is not bad.” 

«Be suspicious of justice».

Hearing those words, the audience felt a slight shudder. Since the nun had started her speech, that was the first moment of doubt. The audience had been rapt with her until then, but little by little the audience began to come to their senses. Esther was not flustered by the change in the audience, so she pushed herself even harder in her speech, expressively moving her arms.

“It may be that these words make you sad. You may think that everything is false and that nothing is certain. God and justice are nothing more than mirages… But they are not. We can distrust, distrust and distrust, but something will always remain. There is always something that cannot be denied… For example, on a winter night like this, meeting with the whole family in front of the stove and feeling the warmth in the heart…” The families in the audience exchanged glances, as if encouraged by the girl's words.“Or look at the starry sky from a deserted meadow and feel how precious our little existence is...” 

As to embrace to all those present, the nun extended the arms and continued talking, pretending this time caress the soul with the voice. 

“Love of oneself and of neighbor ... that's what remains in the end. That is what makes me believe in God. Because God loves us and has given us these gifts. So let's pray together. Let us pray for all the blood that was shed and the souls of all the fallen… Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.”

 Although they had wanted to rehearse it before, the response of those present would not have come out more conjoined. It seemed they had coordinated not only the breathing, but even the pulse. The echo of those words had scarcely been consumed when a thunderous round of applause went up. The ovation did not diminish after the nun finished bowing in thanks. After the archbishop's speech, the audience had remained seated, but Esther's words made everyone in attendance stand up to cheer her on. Even Petros, seeing the reaction from the room, was unable to suppress a cry of admiration.

“And she's just a little girl… What a charisma!” 

 N: A very old Petros’s coloring ;) 

Just with the dubious name of Saint, the girl had managed to move more than a thousand people. This was not normal. Thinking ahead, Petros felt a slight concern.  

If the artificial Saint that D'Annunzio and Borgia wanted to make was added that ability to attract the public, the potential of the girl was not negligible. If she developed her career under Sforza's guidance, she would be a formidable opponent for Cardinal Medici and his followers...

“Hey you! Where do you think you are going!? This is not the time for that yet!” 

Those reproachful words that came from the base of the stage brought the warrior monk to his senses. Turning, he saw a Guard soldier in his gray-blue uniform arguing with someone carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Probably wanted to give it to the Saint. The one who carried the bouquet was a young adolescent. From the daring evening dress she was wearing, she seemed to be the daughter of one of the attendees. However, her dark skin and pronounced features were a rare combination in these lands. Her eyes were slanted and her pupils a stunning amethyst color.The soldier holding her in the gray gloves began to speak in an increasingly harsh voice.

“Didn't you hear me? If you want to give the Saint a bouquet of flowers, you have to wait for her to come down from the stage. Go back to your seat and stay still.” “Stand aside,Terran!” 

The young woman slightly moved the arm that the other was holding, It seemed a only symbolic gesture, but what happened then was anything but that. 

The soldier, who was six feet tall and weighed a hundred kilos, flew off incredibly and slammed his face against the wall. The impact must have made him pass out. The horrible noise of his nose breaking was the only thing that accompanied his collapse to the ground. 

The scene did not go unnoticed. Muffled shouts of astonishment began to be heard from the audience, and in the box of honor the cardinals had risen with tense faces. However, Petros wasted no time in observing the reactions of the attendees, because he had noticed that the young woman had too long canines between her lips...

“No! Get away from her you all!” Shouted Il Ruinante, wielding with each hand the screamers that he wore on his waist. “She is not human! Is a…!”  “Nice to meet you, Terrans. My name is Shahrazad and I come from the True Human Empire…” said the girl, with a voice as beautiful as a bell, but at the same time full of defiant force.  

As the bouquet of flowers was dropped, the long jeweled gloves she wore began to glow. Leaning them against the wall, the girl, or rather the vampire, looked directly at Esther, who made no sign of wanting to flee. 

“This evening I come to see the killer who you call the Saint... and to kill her!”

 With a thud, the wall began to crumble, looking like a spiderweb. 

                           ════════════╠☆╣════════════

And this is it my dear friends, I hope you have enjoyed this and the new Petros’ coloring I added. I tried hard not to include personal notes in the translation, because I love Petros so much and I was like reacting to everything that happened to him.  Maybe that’s the reason I love this arc so much XD  I want to thank you a lot for your patience, for those who still support this and help me out with it, and to those who share the love by rebloging and liking this. I truly apreciate that.  See you soon on the next part, stay tunned because the best part is next to come. Please stay safe and healthy <3 

[belovasangel]

Come Back to Me

Summary: Shawn missing big events leaves to beautiful memories and Christmas miracles

Pairing: Shawn x fem!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: swearing, light angst, fluff, flashback heavy, holiday feelings 

A/N: Yup. Surprise. Also flashbacks are in italics, per usual. Also I am not Canadian so I don’t know if y’all celebrate Remembrance Day. For the sake of this story, pretend that it’s the equivalent to Thanksgiving.

Shawn took your hand as you barreled down the sidewalk, laughs flying past you in the wind. Tonight had been a perfect date, something great to wrap the summer up, full of time alone with your favorite guy (and your favorite wine). He had been planning this for weeks now, and you can even remember him talking about this back in June when his tour had been announced. The pandemic put a damper on your two’s plans since March, but once the numbers started decreasing did he get calls from managers, and then... there was another world tour. You weren’t mad, music was his passion. Even though you two would be wrapped in each other’s arms after a lovely night, you could tell behind his eyes he longed to play the guitar for different cities. 

That’s why tonight was so important, because he started packing and planning, then he would leave on Wednesday for Prague. And of course, your job needed you in Toronto. While Canada hasn’t experienced any significantly alarming numbers, there were still cases rolling in. You insisted that Shawn goes on tour, so much that you had to pay for his first ticket yourself (he payed you back, though. He insisted). 

Shawn skidded to a stop, turning around and putting his hands on your shoulders. “Now promise me you’re gonna close your eyes, just for a few seconds.”

You huffed and shrugged your shoulders, “Shawn I’m out of breathe, you made me run in heels for about half a mile... Give me 5 minutes instead.” With a quick chuckle, he pecked your lips and turned you around. You heard his shuffling from those black boots he wears to rubble, then decided to look around. He somehow managed to find a quaint park, with a nice bubbling fountain and family’s scattered around. Dogs were running a lit in the distance, and the bustle of the city wasn’t nearly as booming as it usually is. This was nice.

“Okay, turn around.”

With a giggle, you turned around to see Shawn on one knee. Behind him was a tree strung with lights that were glowing, and underneath the tree was champagne and a radio playing your two’s song, Turning the Page (Yeah, we know it’s from Twilight, but that doesn’t stop it from being any less romantic). He was kneeled on a red and white picnic blanket, the typical one you’d see in catalogues for fall. On the blanket were rose petals scattered. 

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you have changed my life for the better. The moment you saw me in the E.R., and had to take care of my broken hand, I knew you were just as kind and gentle as you looked. Once you let me in, and take you on that shitty first date, I got to see the real you. The you that cries during every Disney movie, the you that would bring me breakfast in bed when I had a rough day, the you that would rescue a damn pigeon off the street because it looked sad. You are the most sincere, selfless, and intelligent woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I don’t want ever want to stop or slow down. You have become my life and my rock, I’m completely lost without you. I am utterly in love with you, (Y/N). I want us to have a family, I want to make an album for you, and everything in between. Will you please marry me?”

You shuddered awake, looking quickly at your blaring alarm from the end table. Picking it up and turning it off, the time read 4:25 A.M., signaling it was time to get ready for work. You got up, and went to open the blinds to your bedroom, watching the snow fall steadily. Slipping on your socks and bathrobe, you shuffled to the kitchen to get a cup of tea brewing before you hit the shower. 

Mornings like this weren’t incredibly tough anymore, once Shawn was gone on tour. He face-timed you once a week because of tour, sent you letters and packages from your favorite cities, and even had roses delivered on your birthday. And of course, he always said, “Lemme see it. I wanna see you wear that pretty ring. There it is, there she is, soon-to-be Mrs. Mendes.”

Slipping in the hot shower, you played some of his songs, some of your regular playlists, and when you were throwing on your outfit, your two’s song. You missed Shawn. He had missed your two’s favorite holiday, Halloween, where you two always did the cheesy couple costumes. He missed your birthday, but he sent his family in place. He missed Remembrance Day, because in Europe that wasn’t a thing. And tomorrow is Christmas, where he has no sign of coming home whatsoever. That’s fine, though, because you took the long shift at the hospital.

When the song came to an end, you threw on your coat and snow boots, grabbing all the food and equipment you would need for a 12-hour and began to head out. Shawn sent you his daily vlog and you watched that on the shuttle. Once that was over, you got to the hospital where you would forget about your slightly more aching heart. After work, the routine would basically go in reverse. Commute home, get back into your pajama’s, drink some tea, get dinner, and go to bed, where you would have a restless night in an empty bed.

“When do you think we should have the wedding?”

Shawn looked over, a piece of popcorn hanging onto his lip like a lifeline. His cheeks were flushed and he still looked a little sweaty from the show he just played at TD Garden. He knew you were doing the planning to keep yourself from descending into madness (well, not entirely, but you only brought it up when you really missed him). “I think we should do a summer/fall sort of wedding, like when the leaves are red but it isn’t freezing by 5, ya know?”

You hummed in agreement, a smile picking at the corners of your mouth. “I completely agree. Do you want it to be outdoors then, because of the leaves?”

Shawn took another few things of popcorn from the bag and popped them into his swollen lips, he always licked them when he was frustrated by how a show went, or just when his mind was reeling. “I think we should get married outdoors, and then have the reception indoors. Kind of like-”

“Twilight...”

You both looked at the screen and snorted, sending both of you into fits of hysteria. “Shawn, we really base our relationship off of those books, didn’t we?” He looked over, licking his lips once again. “Explain, babe. I get a little bit, but our whole relationship?”

You shuffled in the bed a little bit, “Hear me out, Shawn-y boy. We met when you were hurt and I had to save you, or more-so your career. Edward saved Bella from the car, right? Right. So, there’s that. Then that girl who you worked on the album with tried to get you on the few dates, but that was long after we were official. Boom, Jacob plot line. Then you leave me for your first tour, which I get 100%, so don’t be upset over that. But the girl you worked with saw you kind of sad and made it her mission to befriend you and then attempt to change your mind over me... And our song is the one from their wedding, and we want an outdoors-y wedding.....”

Shawn looked at the screen, then back to the popcorn leaking butter in his hands. “Damn. So you’re saying that I’m Bella?” You began to shake your head, cheeks turning red. “Maybe I meant that wrong, but-”

“No, no you’re saying I’m Bella. Does that mean I get to wear the dress? I cannot wait to get married with no emotions and then have the ugliest CGI baby in the history of cinematics. Aren’t you so excited for that, my love?”

“Absolutely thrilled.”

The alarm on your phone blared once again, pulling you from Shawn. You picked up the phone, getting a few “Merry Christmas” texts from family and friends. You assumed Shawn was out partying with his crew mates, plus it must’ve been a busy day altogether. Turning off the alarm and standing, you pulled on the slippers and followed your routine again. 

Once it got to 6:07, and still no text from Shawn, you decided to call him. Immediately, you were sent to voicemail. With a sigh, you waited for voicemail.

“Hey bubs, Merry Christmas! I miss you more than ever, it’s snowing here pretty rough. I know you’d probably go outside right about now and insist to make a snowman or some angels, so that might be a mission for me after work. Um, I wanted to let you know that I love you so much, and I hope you’re having fun on tour... The apartment isn’t the same without you here, especially around this time. You’re probably having fun with your friends and I don’t wanna intrude on that, so I’ll hang up. I love you Shawn, be careful. Stay safe, come back to me soon. Bye.”

Wiping the tear that fell down your cheek, you stepped outside your apartment, hopped into the elevator and began the commute to your shift. You got to work on record time, beginning your patient rounds and vitals, then celebrating with the coworkers. Working 6:30 AM-9:30 PM would be a tough one, but whatever to keep you under that roof. Plus, double-time because of the holiday.

Once it hit 9:30, you booked it out of the hospital and onto the shuttle. Your eyes were barely open as you saw the texts from Shawn.

(Shawn) 7:59 AM: Hey babe, I’m so sorry I didn’t answer your call! I can’t wait to see your face tonight, you still up for FaceTime?

(Shawn) 9:26 AM: I bet you’re busy, but I’m gonna be in a few conferences and doing press so I won’t be able to talk for a while. Love you!

(Shawn) 3:14 PM: (Y/N) I don’t think we can FaceTime tonight, I have to do something for a fan and it’s really important. I am so sorry.

(Shawn) 8:44 PM: Are you mad at me or are you still working?

(Shawn) 9:32 PM: Something is waiting for you at home, it’s your gift. I hope this can make up for the call!

You hopped out of the shuttle, heart feeling extra heavy as you walked into the apartment. The string lights and streamers along the walls were taunting you as the elevator brought you to your floor, and you tried to compose yourself until you would get inside. Stepping up to your door, you looked for the present, to no avail.

(Y/N) 9:45 PM: Shawn I don’t see a package

(Shawn) 9:45 PM: Mom must’ve brought it inside, I’m sure it’s there.

With a huff, you shoved the key into the door, and walked inside. Chucking your purse and coat onto the hooks, while flinging off your shoes, you composed yourself enough to look for the package. If he got it express-shipped it had to be good. Checking the kitchen was no luck, and the living room looked normal. 

(Shawn) 9:48 PM: Bedroom, babe

With a gasp, you quickly buzzed to the bedroom, and laid your hand on the door. You stopped, hesitant to what was behind the door. What if it isn’t him? Taking a deep breath, you dismissed the negative thought and opened.

The room was filled with lit tea lights, rose petals on the bed and the floor, and Shawn. He was standing there in that chunky-white knit sweater you loved, with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, holding a bouquet of flowers, and your favorite song playing softly in the background.

You gasped, running into his arms with a squeal and sob, him mimicking the sound. He held onto the small of your back, and one hand on the back of your neck, and you felt his tears falling onto your skin. “I missed you so much, (Y/N). You don’t even know.” He pulled back slightly pressing his lips to yours in a soft embrace.

After a minute of kissing, you pulled back. “Merry Christmas, Shawn.”

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

[johnkrrasinski]

the chain on your neck; 

full masterlist

Pairings: Steve Rogers x female!reader 

Word count: 2,291

Warning: too much fluff probably 

Summary: Steve Rogers came home to you after a delayed return and brought something special for you. 

a/n: i was listening to call it what you want by taylor swift (well, it would be pretty obvious for my swiftie followers lol) anyways, i was really inspired by the line “i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck” and that to me, has always been one of my favorite lyrics of reputation. also, the title was inspired by that exact line from you are in love. so here’s a steve rogers fic predicated on that line! hope you like it. please leave a like and comment. ❤

It was 9.30am on a Sunday morning in New York. Normally, you would take your sweet time to stretch in your bed and turn slowly to the other way around to gaze lovingly at your boyfriend. It was a rare sight to see him in such a serene state, so you didn't have the heart to wake him. It was lovely to see him without the wrinkles on his forehead and furrowed brows because he was carrying so much on his shoulders. His duties as Captain America, the missions, the battles, the reports, the urgent late night calls, the miscreants had clearly took a toll on him.

And you being his girlfriend, it was crystal clear to you how often he would put on a facade to be the backbone of the Avengers. Because, everyone is relying on him. There were innocent folks that needed his protection. There were little kids looking up to him. He didn't have the luxury to pour a couple tears to lay off some steam or have a mental breakdown in public. He had to be strong and steady.

Often times, when the fight really did a damage on him and it was written all over his face, he would try to hide it away from you. You knew he needed you, you knew he needed your comforting touch to ground him. He wouldn't ask for it though, he would simply undress himself out of the grimy suit and wordlessly wrapped himself around you. The feel of your skin against his kept him sane throughout all the worst missions he'd ever gone through.

So when you had the chance to just take a minute and enjoy this brief moment of life simply letting your boyfriend be... Human, you cherish and savor every single second of it.

That's your usual Sunday morning routine. But not today, today you woke up in a cold bed alone because the love of your life had gone to another mission in Prague four days ago, and he was supposed to come back last night. You were feeling grouchy because you didn't get your morning cuddles and kisses and Steve's morning cuddles and kisses were like coffee to other people. They need their morning boost to start off their day.

Delayed returns were part of the job. There was always unexpected incidents that required immediate attention of whoever took the mission. And the behest is that, you do not come home before the mission was truly taken care of.

So instead of sulking all day in bed, you leisurely check your phone and send him a good morning text. You figured that it would ease the feeling of missing him. You knew better than to wait around for an instant reply. You were not allowed to check your phone under any circumstances during missions unless you are safe and sound in your hotel room. So you decided to get yourself out of bed and washed your face and brushed your teeth.  

After your daily morning routine, you went to the kitchen to cook yourself some early meal. Nat, Tony, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey and Clint were already there in the middle of their breakfast. They greeted you in your not-so-cheerful state.

"Good morning, kid." Tony was the first one to speak up.

"Hey Tony." In an indifferent tone. You just weren't in the mood to socialize because you missed your boyfriend terribly, and you just really wanted to spend your Sunday morning with him.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood." Natasha spoke up. The woman was always too good in seeing right through people.

"Not really, I'm just hungry." You retorted. Again, with that disinterested attitude.

"Hungry for some food or a certain super soldier, cause I've seen you hungry for actual food y/n, it wasn't like this."

"Okay! You're right. I'm missing my boyfriend and I'm so goddamn worried. He hasn't contacted us since last night, when he was supposed to come home. I texted him this morning and he still hasn't answered. What if something had happened to him and he wasn't able to send a message? What if he got stuck somewhere where he can't find a signal? What if he-"

"Sweetie, I think you are getting yourself too worked up. Just take a deep breath and eat some breakfast, yeah? I'll make you some coffee to ease your nerves." Wanda politely interrupted you. Out of all people, she knew exactly what the feeling was like. Aside from being able to read people's minds, she had actually lost so many of her loved ones, so she understood your overwhelming fears.

You put your head in your hands and took a deep breath and exhaled. You were getting too worked up and you needed to clear your head because freaking out is clearly not going to solve anything or give you any answers. It's not going to turn whatever situation Steve was stuck in and provide you a call or a text from him out of nowhere.

And you didn't realize how hungry you had been until your stomach started to make some growling noises that told you you needed some nourishment.

"Yeah, okay, I'm gonna cook something up."

Just as you pushed your chair back and stood on your feet, Friday's voice alerted everyone from the tranquil state of the room. "Captain Rogers, sergeant Barnes and Mr. Wilson are about to land in 5 minutes."

As everyone in the room had realized what was happening, they all immediately got on their feet and ran to the where the helipad was placed. You, on the other hand was overwhelmed with a sense of relief and joy. Because your boyfriend has come home and in one piece. You were about to see his beautiful sapphire eyes again and you couldn't wait any longer. You wanted to be the first one to welcome him home as soon as he lands.

As the quinjet landed on the ground and the door opened up wide, revealing your boyfriend and your friends, Bucky and Sam on his sides, walking out limping but still with that warm, familiar smile on his face because he finally saw you. Four days had felt way too long for being overseas from you.

He instantly ran as fast as he possibly could to you and grabbed you by your waist and carried you off the ground in a tight embrace. He buried his face in your neck and inhaled your luscious scent. You couldn't see his face because you were also burying your own face in his neck, but you could feel him smiling so widely because he was home and you were in his arms now.

"God, I've missed you so much, baby."

You moved your face to the front of his and pressed your foreheads together.

"I've missed you too, baby. So fucking much." You sniffled. In that moment it was just you and him, because you had been without each other for way too long to have a care about anything else in the world. Four days felt like four thousand years. It might seem dramatic but that's what happens when you are madly in love.

"I know baby, I know. I'm here now, it's okay." He kissed you, it was brief but it held more meaning than words. You closed your eyes as you relished in the feeling of him. Pressed up against you and tangible. Not a looming presence in your room, not a ghost in your dreams, not a whispered name in your prayers.

He put you down as threw his arm around your neck to keep you close. You both walk in each other's embrace to your room. Luckily, he didn't bring home any severe wounds that would require an immediate & extensive care. He could go straight to his own bed, take a warm shower and change into his pyjamas so he could lie in his cozy bedstead with you. Really, that's all he really wanted right now.

Steve Rogers was a man of sentiment. Not a lot of people saw it but, it's factual. You were lucky enough to witness the way this man displayed his affections and the way he'd never let you doubt his love and loyalty a single second. He was an assertive and a solemn leader to the team, especially when he had to save the world and faced the government. But you knew his tender heart way too well to let it affect you behind closed doors. You love him for the man he chose to be even when he didn't.

After you both wash yourself off the dirt, you put on one of his hoodies that literally swallowed your smaller figure. You looked so tiny and adorable in his shirts, he never minded that he'd often have trouble finding a certain shirt. It was always his hoodies, sweaters and old shirts that he rarely wore anymore. If she claimed it, then it's hers. No room for argument. Not that he'd try anyway.

She was drying her hair with the hairdryer in the small mirror of her bathroom when he walked in with nothing but his sweatpants on, he stared into her beautiful eyes in the mirror with a smile. "I got something for you."

"Yeah? What is it?" She smiled back at his reflection in the mirror.

He pulled out a lovely navy blue box with a silver ribbon on top of it. It made her turn around with an inquisitive look. She moved her eyes directly to the box in his calloused hands. He opened the lid cautiously, fearing that she might not like the surprise. Because even Captain America is still scared of rejections, he was trained for orders and enemies, but no one taught him that the little, sickly guy from Brooklyn would be rejected by  a lot of women who couldn't see him past his appearance. And certainly, no one  prepared him for the rejection from the love of his life. His past fears are clouding his mind and taking over his emotions before she even said a word.

The navy blue box revealed a beautiful piece of jewelry, specifically, a golden vintage necklace that hang up the letter "S" in the middle of its rounder. The red rose adornment on the left side of it only added the exquisite intricacies to it. And the antiquated piece of leaf on the other side enhanced more of its charm.  She couldn't help the desire to touch the charming piece with her own fingers. She delicately curled them around the rustic chain, deliberately picked them up closer to her sight; she was charmed by it.

"Do you like it?" Steve spoke up timidly, as if he was doubting his own choice, he really wanted her to like it. He nervously stared into her eyes, waiting for her answer.

"I love it, Steve." She returned that restlessness expression on his handsome face with a fond smile. She loved it. She truly loved it and she meant it. She wasn't even faking it to spare his feelings, she genuinely became attached to it even if she hadn't even hung it around her own neck yet.

"Where did you get it from?" She continued. Her curiosity knocked on the moment.

"There was this local gift shop in Prague, it looked really old and small but still had its own charm, you know? I was walking around one night..." He looked distant for a second. "Couldn't sleep, the mission really carried a weight that day. I just kept walking, taking in the fresh midnight air until I found the shop... It drew me in."

Steve's face changed from an agitated expression to pure delight. He couldn't wait any longer to see it encircle the shape of her neck, so he asked; "do you want me to put it on you?"

"Please." She turned around to face the mirror again and waited for Steve to unclasp the hook of the necklace. She could feel his warm, steady breath on the back of her neck and this is the kind of intimacy not a lot of people talk about, but oh, how much it mattered in the moment.

When the necklace was on, she took her time to soak it in, how divine it looks on her now, she didn't think she could go anywhere without this necklace being a part of her. She pressed her thumb on every inch of this necklace, it really is a part of her now.

He is now wrapping his bulky arms around her shoulders and put his head right on the right side of hers. He looked at her reflection in the mirror. "You know why I chose this necklace?" He left a swift kiss on the right side of her neck where he was just resting his head on.  

"Why?"

"Because it's the closest thing to your heart, and that's where I'm always supposed to be."

She didn't realize tears had started brimming in her eyes, the tenderness and sincerity in his voice made her realize just how lucky she was to possess such love him, and to have that love returned in if not, a greater measure than she ever hoped for.

"I love you, you know that?" It was rhetorical, she knew damn well  that he had it ingrained deep in the back of his head that she loved him. Desperately, utterly and irrevocably.  And so did he to her. It was more than a mere declaration but rather a vow, that it would be bounded to their souls for eternity. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, 'till death do us part.

"I love you too, angel."

[dlwritings]

Never Have I Ever | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 2,193 warnings - implications of sex and mention of nudes A/N - for the two anons who requested | the Never Have I Ever bit is based on this classic One Direction interview

summary - You and Tom had been dating for a while, and a stupid iCloud hacker caused some intimate pictures to leak. When things get a little awkward at an interview, your cast mates had your back.

It’s in the moments when life is going really well that one should start to get suspicious. Especially when your life is so publicized, you should always be on your toes.

You should’ve known when things were going so well with Tom that they were bound to come crashing down eventually.

Your relationship had been going on privately for about six months. You met on the set of Spider-Man: Far From Home. You weren’t playing an important character or anything, just one of the background students going on the European trip. Something about you just caught Tom’s eye. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized he was falling for you.

However, your publicists were both very strict about your relationship needing to remain private. While nothing about the two of you being together was illegal, the world didn’t exactly need to see Hollywood heartthrob 23-year-old Tom Holland parading around with up-and-coming singer-slash-actress 18-year-old (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Everyone on your teams could already see the headlines, and they wouldn’t exactly do wonders for either of your images. Tom would be seen as a perverted cradle robber, and you would be seen as a ladder-climbing slut. It was pretty much a lose-lose situation.

So, you kept it on the downlow. Your friends, immediate family, and fellow castmates knew, but you never went public about it. This didn’t mean you couldn’t go on dates together, but PDA had to be minimal to non existent. This wasn’t a huge deal, because you weren’t one to make out with your boyfriend in public anyway. So, everything was going fine.

Again, that was when you should’ve realized everything was about to go to shit.

There were a few weeks when Tom was filming in Prague and you didn’t need to be there, so you were home in London. During those weeks, it was only natural for you and Tom to have some intimate conversations. You were both young, and going from almost daily sex to none at all wasn’t easy. You sent him a few pictures, he reciprocated, there were a few steamy phone calls and some text messages here and there, but that was it. It was all normal young adult behavior. The only thing was, neither of you were considered normal young adults.

You got the phone call in the dead of night. One phone call you might’ve missed, but the endless stream that was coming in was impossible to ignore. You saw the caller ID read Monica - manager, so you answered it, feeling panic settle in your chest immediately. Monica was a friend at this point -practically an older sister- but she would have no positive reason to call at 1:00 in the morning.

“Everything’s fine,” she said as soon as you picked up.

“Monica-”

“Someone hacked Tom’s iCloud,” she said.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “So?”

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Apparently, the two of you have shared some, um, intimate phot-”

“OH MY GOD!” you screamed. “NO! No way! FUCK!”

“It’s okay,” she said, trying to calm you down. “It’s okay.”

“It’s very clearly not okay!” you shouted. “My naked photos are on the internet! You know who has access to the internet?”

“I mean-”

“Everyone!” you said. “And you know who is a part of everyone?”

“(Y/N)-”

“My mom!” I shouted. “My mom is going to see naked photos of me. She probably thinks I’m still a virgin! Oh my god. The whole world is going to think I’m a slut.”

“Okay, but you’re not a slut,” Monica said, her voice soothing.

“But-”

“It’s very important to me that you know that this does not make you a slut,” she said. There was that older sister vibe coming out. “Everyone shares nudes, alright? Someone else stealing and sharing those doesn’t make you a slut. Okay?”

You took a stabilizing breath. “Okay.”

“We took the picture down where it was originally posted,” she said. “I’m sure people have already saved it though, but you know what? It’s going to be fine. We’ll tackle the PR when it comes up. There’s nothing we can do about it now except handle it like adults and remind the world that you and Tom are both adults.”

Tom.

“Okay,” you said again. “Thanks for calling me.”

“Try and get some sleep,” she said. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Sleep,” you scoffed. “Right.”

As soon as you hung up with Monica, you called Tom. He picked up on the first ring. “(Y/N)-”

“Why’d you put it on the cloud?” you shouted, unable to stop yourself.

“Everything backs up automatically!” he said defensively. “This isn’t my fault!”

“Well it isn’t my fault!”

“I’m not saying it is!”

“Whose fault is it then?”

“The 40-something-year-old pervert who hacked into my account and leaked the photos!”

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. Tom did the same, and you ran a hand through your messy bedhead. “This is a disaster, Tom,” you mumbled.

“I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said, waving a hand dismissively even though he couldn’t see it.

“You know, it’s going to be brought up next week during press,” Tom said. In your sleepy state, you had forgotten that next week, you were starting press for the film. You sighed into the receiver.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you said.

The following week came, and neither you nor Tom had responded to any of the internet’s comments on the nudes. Your publicists both decided it would be best to address the situation only when it arose during an interview. That way, the words could come directly from your mouths without any chance of misinterpretation or poor wording from a tweet or Instagram post. It would also come across as more professional than if Tom blabbed about it during an Instagram live.

The first interview that happened was on Jimmy Kimmel Live. You had both done an interview with Jimmy before, and he was one of the nicest guys on late night TV. You hoped he would be kind about it all. Maybe, if you were lucky, he wouldn’t even bring it up. To make the night even better, you would be sharing the couch with Jake, Jacob, and Zendaya. You knew you’d be a little bit more at ease with them there.

Everything about the interview was going fine at first. Jimmy was asking you all questions about the film and what life behind the scenes was like with such a crazy cast. After the commercial break, Jimmy informed the audience that you would be playing a game. The game, of course, had already been approved by your PR team. That didn’t mean you had any idea what it was.

“We’ve asked Twitter to send in their best questions for never have I ever,” Jimmy said. “Now, I’ve not seen any of these questions, but they have been cleared by our team.” Jimmy handed the five of you paddles that read I HAVE on one side and NEVER on the other. “I will be playing too, because I think it’s only fair,” he said with his usual smile.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, but you painted on your superstar smile to mask your nerves. Surely the questions wouldn’t be that bad if Jimmy’s team cleared them.

“From Paula comes, Never have I ever danced naked in the rain,” Jimmy said.

“In the rain?” Tom said.

“Naked?” Jacob clarified. Jimmy nodded with a laugh as he flipped it to the NEVER side. Everyone put NEVER except Jacob.

“Alright, Jacob?” Tom laughed.

“Listen, we’ve all had some wild nights, alright?” he said. “This is a judgement free couch.”

“Alright, next,” Jimmy said with a laugh, “comes from John: Never have I ever joined the mile high club.”

You and Tom looked at each other for a millisecond that you hoped wasn’t caught on camera. Even though it was a lie, you put NEVER. There were some things you just weren’t going to reveal about yourself, even if the whole world had already seen you naked. Jake put I HAVE, and swore he wouldn’t say who he joined with. 

“From Alex: Never have I ever-” Jimmy cut himself off with an awkward laugh. You could tell he wasn’t too thrilled with the questions either. You wondered if someone would get fired after this. “Never have I ever been naked in public.” More questions went by like that: smoked a joint, slept with someone twice or half my age. All things that could stir up PR nightmares and just made you into a liar. 

Jimmy started to read the next. “From Kayla: Never have I ever-” It was evident he was upset, and you wondered for a moment if he’d even read it aloud. “Never have I ever taken a nude photo.”

Laughter spread across the audience as you all played with the paddles in your hands. You couldn’t even get yourself to look at the camera, and Jimmy threw his paddle over his shoulder. “Whoever picked these questions,” he said with a slight laugh, “is in for a stern talking to tonight.”

“Honestly, what did they expect?” Jake asked. “You give us these paddles, and you really think we’re suddenly going to answer these questions? Like Yeah!” He waved his own paddle in the air. “I’ve done all the drugs! Cocaine, heroine! Marijuana is a pussy’s drug.” At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. Still, the audience laughed, and Jake threw his paddle behind him too. He looked at the camera and pointed at it. “We know what you sick perverts want,” he said, “but listen here. These kids-” He pointed at you, Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. “-are media trained superstars, alright? You really think that Tom “Spider-Man” Holland is gonna stand up and say, This morning, I woke up, rolled a joint-” He was doing a terrible British accent while miming his actions and had everyone dying. “-and then took a dick pic before running through the streets of Los Angeles butt ass naked? You really think this guy is gonna say that? They’re not gonna say that!”

Zendaya took the paddle from Tom and took yours as well, then put them together so the I HAVE sides were touching and both sides of the paddle said NEVER. “They might as well say this, Jimmy,” she said, thrusting the paddles back into your hands. “Never, and never. Never. Never.”

“Yeah!” Jacob agreed. “You all are sick!” He folded his arms across his chest with a sarcastic huff, and everyone applauded him while laughing. You almost had tears in your eyes.

Within a few minutes, the show went to commercial break, and Jimmy apologized profusely to the five of you, mostly to you and Tom since everyone knew the questions were directed more at you. “I honestly had no idea what the questions were,” he said. “I have no idea why they were cleared.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I think it’s safe to say though that you guys-” You looked at Jake, Zendaya, and Jacob. “-saved us.”

“We’ve always got your back,” Zendaya said, giving your arm a comforting squeeze. You smiled and laid your head on her shoulder while Jacob reached out and squeezed your hand. Jake was talking quietly to Tom, and you could see in both of their eyes that Jake was saying something meaningful. Tom was smiling appreciatively and nodding along.

By the time you and Tom got back to your hotel, the clip of you on Jimmy’s show was already trending. You showed Tom all the tweets, and the two of you shared a laugh. “Glad we can laugh about it now,” Tom said, getting under the covers of the bed beside you.

“Oh believe me, I’m still crying inside,” you said, “but the others made it a little easier.”

“And I didn’t?” Tom teased.

“You’re the one who got them leaked in the first place,” you said.

“You said-”

“I’m joking, div,” you said, hitting him with one of the pillows. Tom laughed and lightly smacked you back. You eventually curled back up to his side, and Tom put his arm around you.

“In all seriousness,” he said, “I’m really sorry this all happened.” You looked up at him to see him already looking down at you. “It’s not fair that this shit is already happening to you. I feel like, like I’m supposed to protect you, you know? And I just fucked that right up.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” you said. “That’s an extremely outdated gender role.” You placed a kiss to his neck, just below his jaw. “But I appreciate you looking out for me. We can’t control the rest of the world. Just ourselves. Just because I can’t trust the rest of the world to respect my privacy doesn’t mean I can’t trust you.”

You were both quiet for a long time, and just when you thought Tom had dozed off-

“You’ll still send me nudes when I’m away, right?”

“I hate you.”

----- ----- ----- -----

TAGLIST

@bangtan-serendipity | @planetdemon | @the-singing-clown406 | @tomshufflepuff | @bluelalal | @grandloser | @jackiehollanderr | @mindset-jupiter | @bisexual-sk8r | @feel-like-gold | @runaway-apple | @miraclesoflove | @marvelismylifffe| @wonderbyers | @coraz0ndcristal| @lizmarvel​ |  @hannihannelora

[stories-sometimes]

I’ve Made A Huge Mistake {4/?}

Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friends.But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: Violence in later chapters, manipulation, age gap

Word Count: 1893

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The holiday became a whole lot less fun overnight. Originally it was meant to be a break for Peter, away from being a superhero, away from avenging, away from all his responsibilities. But, like always, some otherworldly being came and fucked that all up for him. And Peter was supposed to confess his feelings for her in some romantic candle-lit restaurant in Venice, or at the top of the Eiffel Tower. But Beck came along, swept her off her feet and fucked that all up for him. Even though Fury had said he didn’t have to join the mission, Peter knew, in the back of his head, that some way or somehow he would get dragged into the situation again. There would be another world-ending threat that would inevitably pop up in another city, one that Peter couldn’t ignore.

The two of them returned from Fury’s base in the early hours of the morning. She was incredibly giddy, a grin plastered across her face for the whole journey. He’d seen her get like this before, the time her 8th-grade crush asked her to the winter dance, or when Peter scored them tickets to a Star Wars premiere. It was the most beautiful expression Peter could ever be graced with - when he caused it he felt on top of the world, when another guy caused it he fell into a pit of jealousy. He tried his best to be happy for her, she was over the moon, Beck seemed like a good guy. He didn’t control her, he had no right to dictate who she could and couldn’t date. But he just couldn’t, he could never feel content if she was with someone else. So he let her talk about this perfect guy, acknowledging her ramblings just enough to not be rude: because that’s what a best friend does. And he’d rather be her friend than be nothing at all.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Peter asked Ned the next morning as they waited for the bus.

“Seriously, don’t worry, getting tranqued by Nick Fury is probably the coolest thing to ever happen to me.” Ned reassured him, way too positive about getting knocked out. Peter laughed nervously at his response.

“I’m just happy I don’t have to go to Prague.” Peter said as they absentmindedly did their handshake.

“Good news,” Mr Harrington said, bursting out of the hotel door, “we’re going to Prague.” He announced.

“Prague?” Peter asked, along with a few of the other students. Of course Fury would interfere.

“Yeah, tour company upgraded us. You should've heard me on the phone with them. I really gave them hell. All I heard was crying.” The teacher continued as a much bigger, sleeker black bus turned the corner. “Look, our upgraded ride.”

“Peter, what’s going on?”

“I think Nick Fury just hijacked our vacation.” One of the agents Peter saw last night stood outside the bus, purposely ignoring Mr Harrington’s feeble attempts at an introduction.

Once the group was on the bus Peter pulled out the case Fury gave him the night before. He opened it to reveal a pair of glasses, identical to the ones Mr Stark used to wear. Peter stared at them, unsure whether to feel happy at the sight of them or to burst into tears over his late-mentor. A note on the front read ‘For the next Tony Stark, say EDITH’. He read it aloud as he placed them on his face.

“Stand by for a retinal and biometric scan.” The glasses lit up. Peter watched curiously as a model of his face appeared in front of his eyes. “Scan accepted.”

“Hello?” Peter asked, a series of questions filling his head.

“Hello, Peter. I am EDITH, Tony Stark's augmented-reality security and defence system. I have access to all of Tony's protocols.” The AI explained.

“Cool.” Really Peter, he thought to himself, even with all the questions spirling in his mind all he could say was cool.

“Would you like to see what I can do? EDITH stands for “Even dead, I’m the hero.” Tony loves his acronyms.”

“Yeah, he did.” Peter laughed affectionately. At least he could have this link to the late, great Iron Man.

“I have access to the entire Stark Global Security network including multiple defence satellites as well as back doors to all major telecommunication networks.” She continued to fill him in. Peter glanced around the bus, multiple views of people’s phone screens popping up. It ranged from students begging their parents for more money to Mr Dell searching up witchcraft. So much for science professors.

“Is she texting Beck?” Peter asked before he fully realised what he was saying, “no, no, that wrong.” He said, sinking down into his seat. He had to respect her potential relationship, no matter how much it pained him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Betty and Ned sat next to each other, repeatedly texting ‘I miss you’ to each other. He grimaced at how completely cliche they were. The bus soon pulled into a village centre, allowing a quick toilet break. Flash left first, filming a video as he continued his attempts for insta fame. Peter got off last, only being able to step off the bus before he was stopped and instructed to go into a building opposite from him. Inside stood a tall blonde woman dressed near-identically to the agent driving their bus.

“Hi, I’m Peter.” He introduced himself nervously.

“Close the door.” She said firmly, her Eastern-European accent thick. He turned, immediately obeying her, honestly slightly intimidated by her. “Take off your clothes.”

“Excuse me.” Not exactly where he had expected that to go.

“You told Fury Spider-Man cannot be seen in Europe. So I made you this, another suit.” She handed him an all-black suit.

“Um, thanks. I’m sure it fits fine.” He replied awkwardly.

“Take off your clothes.” She said bluntly.

“Okay,” He whispered, unzipping his pants and pulling them down, “this is embarrassing.” He tried to alleviate some of the tension. Suddenly Flash walked into the building. His face went pale, scared he would assume the worst.

“Damn Parker, you got a hooker, didn’t think you had it in you.” Flash joked, taking a picture of the scene in front of him before walking back outside. The woman pulls out a gun, aiming it carefully at the back of Flash’s head.

“No, no, no, please don’t shoot,” Peter said in a panic as he made the agent lower her gun. “I’ll sort it out.” He grabbed the new suit, and ran out of the building, pulling his pants back up as he did so. “Flash, Flash, stop!”

“Honestly Parker, I can’t tell if I should make fun of you or congratulate you. That takes a lot of balls.” He continued to laugh.

“That, that wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Then what was it?” Peter opened his mouth, attempting to respond, but nothing came out. He ended up opening it and closing it over and over again, looking like some fish stuck on the land.

“Exactly.” Flash replied, walking towards the bus, “Wait,” he turned back, a smirk on his face, “What do you think she’d think about this?”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked cautiously.

“That her best friend, little Penis Parker, is secretly a perv.” Flash smiled as somehow more colour drained from his face. “Bet she’d love that.” He said, stepping onto the bus. Peter panicked, running back to his seat and shoving EDITH onto his face.

“Hey Peter, how can I help you?” Peter began to mumble an explanation, “I’m having difficulty hearing.” EDITH responded.

“There’s this guy, Flash Thompson, he’s got this photo of me and -”

“Is Flash Thompson a target?”

“A target?” Peter turned to see Flash, he had the picture up, ready to send the photo to the rest of his class. He knew he could tell her the truth about the situation, she’d understand, but still, he wanted to keep her from seeing it. “Yeah, he’s a target.”

“Target confirmed, initiating strike.”

“Initiating what now?” Peter asked, sitting up slightly straighter in his seat. Peter watched a map appear in front of his eyes showing an attack drone being released from a Stark satellite. “Shit.” He immediately stood up, out of his seat. He made his way over to where Flash was sat, all while keeping an eye on the ever-nearing drone.

“Cool glasses Parker,” Flash said, grabbing them off Peter’s face, “when d’you become so rich.”

“Flash, please, give ‘em back.” Peter went to take them back but Flash kept batting his hands away. “Flash, I’m serious.” He said, going for Flash’s face, accidentally knocking him out in the process. Peter stepped back, shocked. Sometimes he forgot his own strength. He brushed it off, sliding the glasses back onto his face. “I’m so sorry, EDITH don’t kill Flash.”

“Peter do you want me to call off the drone strike on Flash.” The AI asked.

“Did you just punch Flash?” A classmate asked at the same time.

“No.” Peter answered quickly. But EDITH had mistaken that for him answering her question.

“He’s knocked out.” Another shouted.

“Look, baby mountain goats.” Peter pointed out the window, successfully distracting the group. As the drone went to fire Peter jumped up, pushing through the roof window, shooting his webs out. Luckily for him enough were caught on the drone to disable it, making it crash down the mountain beside them. He landed, terrified anyone saw what he’d just done and how close he’d come to killing a classmate.

“Peter, I know you think we haven’t noticed,” Betty began causing Peter’s eyes to widen, “but your new look, I love it. Right babe?”

“Yeah, it’s super classy.” Ned agreed. Peter let out a sigh of relief, collapsing into a seat next to his other best friend.

“What the hell was that?” She scolded him before he could properly relax.

“I may or may not have almost killed Flash.” He was slightly worried that he had pissed her off as she continued to stare dumbfoundedly at him. Soon he was reassured by her bursting out laughing.

“You’re a fucking idiot Peter.”

“Well, you know -”

“No, no, you are genuinely the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met. How did you ever do that?”

“Um, these,” He took off the glasses, handing them to her, “they’re what Mr Stark gave me. Turns out saying someone's target sets a military level drones on them.” She couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m sure he’d be real proud of me.”

“Don’t,” Her voice turned more serious, “he obviously trusted and believed in you so much. And he’s hardly someone who never made mistakes. He’s the least perfect avenger, and still, he achieved more than anyone else in the world could even dream of. He would’ve expected to make hundreds of mistake and fuck up time and time again. But he wouldn’t have given you these if he think you could clean up all those messes.”

“Thanks.” He whispered a slight confidence boost after that little speech.

“I’m serious,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder, “you’re pretty fucking awesome Parker.” And there was the ego boost. They stayed there in comfortable silence for a while, both perfectly content. Not long after she began to uncontrollably laugh again. “You almost killed Flash fucking Thompson.”

@cool-ontherun-world 

@eleventhdoctorsangel 

@chubby-tink

@eridanuswave

[kissmetae]

Chase

x Taehyung

❧ AU: The second you left, he knew he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

Your plane had taken off without him waving you off, without him confessing his feelings, without saying goodbye…

You’d be back in a few months… but he wouldn’t survive the pain and guilt that long...

He had to go after you… 

A crazy idea, but for being crazy in love, it was completely sane.

He gets on the next first flight and flies back and forth over Europe chasing you, the love of his life… to confess.

|| ANGST + smut | 10k | x reader ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic.  Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: MATURE | sexual content, unprotected sex

❧ A/N: I’m very proud of this AU, please excuse any unnoticed mistakes, three keys are missing from my keyboard now hehe, this gets very soft despite being heart clenching... enjoy the mini geography lesson!

He was going crazy.

He was sure about it.

No sane person would go as far as to his measures.

He was out of his mind, a mind that was fogged by a single large regret.

He was running, running as fast as he could, almost bumping into people and buildings, risking his life.

--

He was sitting on one of the benches in the changing room, tears streaming down his face. You must hate him, he thought. He looked at the time on his phone, 40 minutes ago…

40 minutes ago he knew he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

He threw his phone on the floor, hid his face with his hands and leaned back against the lockers.

The door to the changing rooms opened and Taehyung quickly turned away and down, to hide his face.

He sniffed. He could blame it on a cold…

“Taehyung… are you ok?” A familiar voice asked.

Taehyung looked back up and saw the concerned face of his best friend.

Jimin placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Taehyung what’s wrong?” He asked, panicked.

He couldn’t speak. If he opened his mouth his words would be drowned by his tears. Instead he just stood up and hugged his best friend tightly, in seek of his comfort.

Jimin quickly realized that there was no point of asking more questions until he had calmed down.

It took a long while before his heavy heart could feel lighter.

Jimin stepped back after a while, panicked for his friend.

“Tell me what happened!” He begged, urging Taehyung to sit back down with his hands.

“She left.”

“Yes? I thought you were fine with it?”

He shook his head, tears still streaming down his red cheeks.

Jimin took a seat next to him and put his arm around him.

“Talk to me.”

“She asked if I could wave her off Jimin… and I said no-“ He sniffed.

“No? Why did you say no?”

“Because I knew it would break me!”

Jimin looked confused.

“I couldn’t stand the fact that she’d be away for so long… I just couldn’t… and I didn’t want to stop her I…”

“Taehyung it’s alright, you can always face time right?” Jimin tried to comfort.

“She’ll be in another time zone and she’ll be busy…”

“But she’ll be back.”

“That’s not it…” Taehyung cried out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“I love her…”

Jimin looked surprised.

“You love her?”

He nodded, heart feeling heavier than ever.

“I don’t know if she feels the same way, but I’ve been hiding it for so many years Jimin! I’m going crazy! I can’t even tell her and now she’s going away and she’ll meet other people and I… I’ve lost all my chances!”

“Taehyung calm down!”

“It hurts!” He hid his face in his hands again.

Jimin patted his back, not knowing what to do.

“Can’t you call her?”

“Her plane took off 40 minutes ago…”

“Later?”

“I can’t tell her over the phone Jimin…”

“Then go visit her?”

Taehyung looked up at Jimin.

“But she’s moving around from place to place, I don’t know where she’ll be or when…”

“Then just ask her.”

“But then she’ll suspect it! I can’t Jimin, I just can’t. It’s too much; she’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Aren’t you?”

--

The plane had two levels.

You looked out from the window in the terminal at the giant vessel.

How could it possibly fly?

You hoped you’d have a seat on the upper level and maybe that would cheer you up a little.

This was the largest business trip one could possibly have ever agreed on. Were you crazy?

Probably.

For a few months you’d be travelling around in Europe, meeting various businesses who were owned by the business you worked for and basically familiar yourself with them and check that they meet the global standard that was required. It was an honor to be asked to represent the company in such a big mission and at first you were hesitant towards accepting the offer… but you would return.

The return would be your comfort when times were tough.

When you returned, you would’ve have pocketed a large sum of money that came with the mission as well.

Travel around was something you’d always wanted to do and the various businesses would for sure show you around and introduce you to their cultures… but you were still upset.

The fact that your best friend hadn’t waved you off… hurt.

You wouldn’t be seeing him for months… and he didn’t come to say good bye?

Did you not mean more to him?

Your comfort was that this trip would help your feelings die down.

You didn’t know why it had taken you so long to realize how much he meant to you and how in love you were… suppressed feelings had spilled over the rim and your heart had begun to ache.

His smile made you blush and his eyes made your knees weak when they looked your way…

He was causing you trouble! Clouding your mind constantly, intruding on your dreams and making you long for something so close, but felt so far away.

He meant the world to you.

Maybe not having him say good bye was for the better… because he was the only reason you’d stay.

--

You had been gone for three days now.

Taehyung had received a text, informing him that you were safely on the ground, making his heart sting with even more guilt.

“I’m glad, come back soon!” Was his response.

A big lie.

His heart screamed “Come back now! Come back! Don’t leave me here without you! I’ll come get you if you don’t come back! Please!”

He knew your first destination was Italy.

His fingers moved over the keys on his laptop, looking up what flight could take him to Italy the soonest… In case he’d want to visit… soon.

Long transits… 16 hours, 23 hours even 31 hours…

Why was it suddenly so complicated to fly to Italy!?

He slammed his laptop shut.

“How long are you going to be in Italy?” He typed out and hit send.

He looked at the time, you should be up by now…

“I’m in Denmark!”

What!?

“Denmark? I thought you were going to Italy?”

“I did! I flew to Denmark last night!

Taehyung opened his laptop again and edited his search to Denmark.

“Tomorrow I’m flying to Estonia!”

Estonia!? Taehyung pulled a hand through his hair in frustration.

This was going to be impossible.

“Just book the ticket to Estonia and wait for her there!” He yelled at himself.

… two stops

2 hour transit… followed by 18 hours.

He clicked book.

18 hours in Finland? Maybe he would make it… The flight would be tomorrow and if you wouldn’t stay there long, maybe he could take a train or boat or even rent a car and drive to Estonia?

His phone dinged.

-E-ticket confirmation-

“What did I just do?”

--

You were having dinner with the people from the business you were visiting at one of the most renowned restaurants in Tallinn, Estonia’s capital city.

During the morning you had participated in a few meetings and then been shown around the facility. It was a lot of information to take in and take notes of but in the afternoon you’d have time to look around the city before dinner and relax, which you did.

When you returned to the hotel later that evening you posted some pictures you had taken of the city on Instagram. As your finger hit post on the last photo your phone suddenly rang.

You had to fly back to Italy, ASAP.

Your company had booked you onto the first flight the next morning. You were meant to take a flight to Prague in two days! Those two days leading up would’ve been your first two days off since leaving!

You felt stressed and quickly clicked into your messaging app and began typing out a long rant to Taehyung to ease your mind.

--

The young woman working behind the counter jumped when Taehyung suddenly accidently slammed his passport on the counter.

“What’s the next flight to Prague from here?” He panted, out of breath.

She began typing on her computer.

Taehyung had been waiting 4 hours now instead of 2.

His flight was delayed.

A miracle or else he would’ve seen your text when he was in Finland.

“There’s a flight tomorrow at six.”

“I want it.”

“Don’t you want to know the price?”

He already put his card in the machine.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She told him the price but he didn’t take in any of the information she was giving.

All he wanted were his new tickets and something to eat.

“Can you cancel my connection to Helsinki?”

“It’s not refundable sir.”

“I know, just give the seat to anyone who needs it.” He said, took his ticket and left.

While eating at the first appetizing place he could find he studied his ticket.

“First class.”

He rolled his eyes.

Money wasn’t an issue, all he wanted was to get to you and tell him he was sorry…

and that he loves you.

His phone suddenly rang.

Jimin.

“Hello.”

“Taehyung what the fuck!?”

He had seen his text…

“I know…”

“You’re crazy, where are you?”

“Amsterdam.”

--

You tried to call Taehyung but you only got sent to voicemail.

Was his phone off?

You sighed.

You missed him.

You wanted to hear his voice.

The emergency in Italy was solved and you were now waiting at the airport in Rome to board your flight that would take you directly to Prague and then to Kiev.

The visit in Prague was moved on their behalf and thus your company immediately put you on the next flight to Ukraine instead. The route they booked just so happened to have a short transit in Prague.

Guess you’d see what that city had to offer in the next coming weeks instead…

You looked at the time and wondered what Taehyung could be doing at this time… Maybe he had just woken up? Was eating breakfast or dinner? Your tired head couldn’t come around to figure out what the time was for him… Stop thinking about him! You yelled in your head.

You boarded your flight and it quickly took you to Prague.

You sent a text to Taehyung, hesitating at first but you promised you’d always let him know whenever you were back on the ground.

“In Prague, flying to Kiev in an hour and a half. Last minute change :/”

--

Taehyung immediately turned off flight mode when the plane landed, seeing your text.

-20 minutes ago-

His heart began to beat hard.

You were here! You were in the same place!

He practically ran off the plane and sent a thought of thanks to the woman in Amsterdam for booking him first class, scoring him a seat in the very front of the plane.

He ran to the first monitor he could find, searching frantically for the flight to Kiev.

He found it.

Gate H61.

He looked around at the signs, but no sign pointed towards any gates beginning with H.

Confused he ran towards the duty free store and asked the cashier.

“Sorry do you know where gate H61 is?”

“It’s in Terminal three.”

“What terminal is this?”

“Terminal one.”

“Thank you.”

He followed the signs towards the terminal three, running.

He looked like a mess but he didn’t care.

He reached the final sign… in front of a passport control.

“Fuck…” He mumbled.

He approached the border police hesitantly and handed them his passport.

“Where are you travelling?”

“I- I just arrived.”

The border police handed him his passport back.

“The exit is to the left and down the stairs, follow the signs.”

“No, I- I need to get in here.”

“Sir, you can’t. You need a valid boarding pass for me to let you through.”

“Why isn’t the Kiev flight at the other terminal?”

“Because it’s outside of the Schengen area sir.”

Taehyung took his passport with his head hung low in defeat.

He walked over to one of the nearby benches and sunk down on it.

He sniffled and took his phone out of his pocket.

--

“Taehyung I tried to call you! Are you going to sleep soon? Is the weather nice?”

You heard a low sniffle from the other end.

“Yeah… I’m going to sleep soon.” He said, followed by a low chuckle.

His tone sounded weird…

“Is everything ok?”

--

“I-I’m ok, I just wanted to hear your voice.” He bit his lip, holding back his tears and leaned back against the wall behind the bench.

--

Hear your voice?

Your heart beat increased.

He wasn’t going to make it easy for you, was he?

“I missed your voice.” You confessed, lowering your voice.

He chuckled.

“I miss you so much, when will you come home?”

“4 months.” You sighed.

“It’s so long.”

“I know… Can we switch to face time? I want to see you.”

“Ah, but I look messy.”

“I don’t care, I want to see you.”

--

“Just- just wait a little.”

He panicked and stood up from the bench. He looked around and the border police gave him a weird look from their booth. Taehyung spotted a sign for the bathroom and quickly ran towards it with his bag.

“Ok.” He said, seated in one of the stalls.

He accepted the request and put his headphones in.

You smiled widely at the sight of him and he smiled back.

“You don’t look messy!” You giggled.

“I need a shower.”

“Are you sleeping enough?”

“The past nights have been rough.”

“You look tired.” You pouted. “Why were they rough?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just stressed. Don’t worry.”

“Of course I’ll worry.”

He smiled sweetly, admiring you.

“Where are you going next?” He asked.

“Norway! I’m really excited. I’m only staying a night in Kiev but I’ll be staying longer in Oslo and I’ll finally have some free time so I can rest!” You said excitingly.

“Oslo? It’s nice there.”

“I’m excited!”

“Will you wait for me there… if I visit you?”

You looked surprised.

“Will you visit me?”

You never thought he would…

Taehyung suddenly flinched and the call ended.

His heart was racing.

He was quick to react.

“Final call Iceland air flight-“

He sighed.

The tune before the announcement could’ve exposed him…

You were calling back.

With a heavy heart he denied the call and switched his phone off.

He left the stall and walked out of the bathroom.

-Dun dun-

“Personal call for passenger-“

He sighed and began following the signs for the exit. Book a flight to Oslo and take in at a hotel for the night and freshen up and sleep. That was his new plan.

He walked past a tiny café on his way out and glanced over it when he suddenly froze, heart stopping.

There was a glass wall in front of the café, the only way in was via the passport control…

You were there.

Sitting at one of the tables with an empty plate in front of you and your phone in your hands… crying.

You wiped the back of your hand across your cheek and put your phone down.

He quickly escaped out of your sight, holding his fist pressed against his mouth, desperate to stop the tears that were welling up.

Why were you crying?

Was it his fault?

You were there all the time…

He wanted to run to you, run and comfort you, hold you close and kiss every tear away… but he couldn’t.

You thought he was in Korea.

He had lied to you.

He looked back at you, wishing you’d accidently see him… force him to explain… but his legs managed to carry him the way to the exit.

Taehyung walked with a heavy heart out of the airport, passing by the ticket offices and neglecting them.

“I’ll just book it on my phone…” He thought.

All he wanted was to shower and lie down now.

He searched up the nearest hotel on his phone and luckily there was an airport hotel right nearby.

“Do you have any rooms available for one night?”

“We do! Would you like a single or double room?”

“Single please.”

“That’s 1600 koruna for one night. Can I borrow your passport and credit card please?”

Taehyung handed the receptionist what he asked for.

A short while later he was handed them back together with a room key.

“Breakfast is included and is served in the room behind you between 6am and 10am.” The receptionist smiled and gestured towards the dining room.

“Thank you.”

--

Why wouldn’t he pick up!? Did his phone die?

A second more and you would’ve started considering going back home until he hinted on visiting you.

You wanted to call him back again and convince him to come visit you! You wanted him here with you and for once it felt like he really was there and then suddenly he wasn’t.

You gave up.

Your feelings weren’t going to go away, not like this.

A tear escaped your eye and ran down your cheek.

You cursed silently.

Why did your heart have to love him of all people…?

A dumb question.

But this was breaking your heart and you needed to board your flight soon.

--

The bed felt soft against his bare back.

Taehyung lied down on the bed with a towel wrapped around his hips after his long shower.

He reached for his phone and began to click through to the booking site.

The shower helped him calm down and collect his thoughts.

All he needed now was a good night’s sleep and everything would be ok. He convinced himself.

One night meant you’d be on your way to Norway tomorrow…

-No flights available, please check other dates-

The day after tomorrow…

There was one flight, late.

He quickly booked it.

Two nights in Prague… and getting up there another way would be a hassle. He didn’t know what trains to take and driving was the last thing he would want to do alone in a foreign country.

--

The meetings in Kiev were long and you were hungry.

The bosses of the company did their very best to impress you and it all sounded good but on an empty stomach it was hard for you to concentrate.

You knew that if you mentioned lunch, lunch would be served. The places you had visited so far showed a concerning amount of respect towards you, almost as if they were intimidated by you… which they should be, but you’re a human too. Sure you represented a large company that had the upper hand of all of them, a bad impression on you could cause them so much trouble but so far you hadn’t stumbled upon anything besides the incident in Italy that was of concern.

The host of the meeting announced a five minute break and you took your chance. You approached the older man and asked him when lunch would be served and suddenly the schedule was shifted.

The other participants looked confused for a moment when he suddenly announced that he meant lunch instead, not a five minute coffee break.

On your way to the cafeteria in the building you fished your phone out of your pocket and had a quick glance.

No missed calls.

Your heart sunk in your chest.

But now wasn’t the time to concern yourself about him, you were here for work.

You shrugged the thoughts of Taehyung off.

Forget him.

--

Taehyung walked around the city, admiring the old buildings and taking a few photos.

He brought his camera along… just in case. He was happy and thankful for his decision.

While in the center of town he also stopped by a few shops to by himself some more and warmer clothes. Strolling through the streets he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be here with you… You could go sightseeing together, hold hands, do some fun shopping and go to nice restaurants, take cute couple photos by the river… look at the old castle…

He felt lonely.

Should he call you?

He decided no and instead called Jimin while walking back towards the bus stop to get back to the airport hotel.

Jimin didn’t pick up.

Not a surprise considering that it was in the middle of the night over there.

If he called you, you’d know that it was in the middle of the night…

He got on the bus and put his headphones instead to listen to some music. He scrolled through Instagram during the bus ride and came across your photos from Estonia and now Kiev.

He liked them and realized a second later that you’d see that he had.

“Fuck… never mind.” He sighed.

--

Your head hit the pillow hard after the long day.

Despite being tired you had agreed on following them out for a late night outing only to then leave it early and excuse yourself with that your flight was early the next day, when it in fact was mid-day.

Your feet were aching and resting on the bed was such a relief.

You felt stressed and exhausted, but your feed made it look like you were having the best of times seeing all these places.

Your phone lit up every now and then from the few like of your photos of Kiev and to your surprise you saw Taehyung’s name among them.

“Shouldn’t he be sleeping?”

You quickly sent him a text.

“Are you awake?”

After a longer while he finally responded.

“I am.”

“I can’t sleep :(”

“Your sleeping troubles are worrying me. Do you drink tea before bed? It might help”

“I’ll try it. Don’t worry about me though.”

Whenever he told you not to worry while you were worrying, it made you feel frustrated.

“Taehyung I will worry!”

“I’m ok~”

“Stop texting me and go back to sleep.”

“no”

“Yes!”

“no”

“I’m not going to reply anymore.”

“Then I’ll cry myself to sleep.”

“Stop haha”

“I miss you a lot.”

“I miss you too, but you still need to sleep. We can face time tomorrow when you wake up?”

“When is your flight?”

“Oh yeah… we can face time when I’ve landed maybe? My flight is during the morning for you.”

It took him longer to reply this time.

“ok”

You wanted to send him something affectionate… but you couldn’t get yourself to do it with ease.

Perhaps a heart? A heart could be platonic…

“❤”

”❤❤❤❤❤❤”

So much for trying to get over him…

--

Would you figure out his cryptic message? Was it obvious that the hearts were meant to stand for “I love u”?

It was getting harder and harder for him to contain himself.

All he wanted was for his flight to Norway to come sooner… so he could hold you.

He was letting himself go even more, more than he already had. Maybe call it accidental flirting but deep down it was intentional.

“I miss you so much.” He sent, trying to come across as pleading.

“Then why didn’t you wave me off?”

His heart dropped.

--

Maybe anger would do? Yes, anger.

If you boiled up anger towards him maybe it would be easier to let him go… but to what use? Did you want to return home to him not being your friend anymore?

You instantly regretted sending that.

--

“I’m sorry, I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it.” He typed out, being honest but then deleting the later and only sending that he was sorry.

“It’s ok, I understand if you were busy.”

That reply made him feel even worse.

“Please wait for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just wait for me, please.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Good night.”

He placed his phone on the nightstand and it dinged when you responded but he didn’t bother to look, assuming it was just a good night which back despite it being evening.

--

Your plane touched down in Oslo on time and you were picked up by a pre-booked taxi to take you to your hotel near the business district.

--

Taehyung anxiously tried to waste his time before his flight.

He locked his tiny suitcase in a locker at the airport and headed into town one last time.

Should he buy you a gift?

He walked past a few jewelry shops and the idea intrigued him more and more.

What if you wouldn’t like it?

Maybe you didn’t want him to visit?

But you said you missed him…

He stopped in front of the window of a shop and his eyes caught the attention of one of the rings displayed on a piece of red velvet fabric.

A ring?

Maybe it looked too much like an engagement ring…

A thought suddenly struck him but he quickly shrugged it off and continued walking.

He walked into a clothing store instead and looked at the scarves and gloves… were you cold?

Did you have plenty of warm clothes with you?

You could borrow his scarf if you were cold… like you did once.

He suddenly found himself surrounded with baby clothes, haven accidently walked into the kids section, distracted with thoughts.

A tiny pair of gloves caught his attention and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling the soft fabric.

/Why am I so dumb…?/

He sighed and left the store.

Maybe he should just get to the airport early and wait there instead…

It felt like the whole town was suddenly crowded with couples and families, all happy people in love surrounding him…

His heart was aching and he quickly fled towards the bus stop to head to the airport.

--

The business you were visiting had surprisingly prepared a boat ride in the fjord for all the participants, something that had you very excited. The boat would take you to a conference center where you’d have a few meetings. Before that you had already been shown around the facility and gotten answers on all of your questions. The day would end with a big dinner later that evening.

The rain was hanging in the clouds but it had yet to fall over the city when you all climbed onboard the boat.

You eagerly took pictures of the beautiful scenery and quickly sent one to Taehyung.

You chatted with one of the participants and he eagerly told you about their food culture and the history of fishing.

It was a beautiful city, a lot smaller to the size than you had expected, but still stunning nonetheless. It had certain serenity and calm that wasn’t common for capitals.

You wanted to return.

Luckily you had your few free days to spend here before you headed to France.

--

As the plane approached there was a stunning view of city lights.

The lights became fewer and fewer the lower the plane flew and the occasional light appeared again when it flew over a highway. A mere moment later the colorful lights of the runway were in sight and the plane touched down with a gentle thud.

He hurried off the plane, got a stamp in his passport by the border and grabbed the first taxi to take him into the city.

There was no time to waste.

He walked into the first hotel he could find and paid for three nights.

The hotel was large and lavish looking and not too far away was the royal palace.

Taehyung dropped his bag off in his room quickly and then ran out into the night.

--

The dinner had come to an end and you were all saying your goodbyes. According to your phone your hotel was a short walk from where you had been eating so you decided to enjoy the cool midnight air with a walk back.

The streets were empty and lit up by shop windows and street lights.

A cold wind from the fjord whistled through the city, making you shiver and pull your coat tighter around you.

Your phone suddenly rang.

You heart skipped a beat when you read Taehyung’s name on the screen. You had forgotten that you were going to face time when you landed! You groaned in annoyance at yourself and quickly picked up.

“Taehyung-“

“Where are you!?” He screamed, out of breath.

“What?”

“Where are you!?”

“I- I’m in Oslo.”

“Where!?”

You looked around.

“Near the train station…”

“Stay there!”

“Taehyung what’s the matter?”

“Just stay there!” He cried out.

Your heartbeat increased and you began to feel unsafe.

“Taehyung this isn’t funny.”

“Wait!”

“Wait for what!?”

“Go to the train station!”

“Ok, ok… I’m going, but why?”

He didn’t respond, all you could hear was his uneasy breathing, making it sound like he was running.

--

He could see the train station, but not you.

“Where are you?” He asked again.

“I- I don’t know, it says oe…østbanehallen on the building.” You said, struggling to pronounce it. “It’s white and there’s a statue in front of it. Why are you asking?”

He started running again, around the corner of the large building, desperate to find you.

--

“Taehyung? Hello?” You repeated, you were getting cold and you wanted to go back, what was he doing?

The phone call cut off.

You looked at your phone with a confused expression and put it back in your pocket as you began to walk again.

But you were stopped by the call of your name.

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice, in disbelief.

“Taehyung?!”

He was running towards you, his phone dead in his hand, breathing heavily and tears streaming down his face.

His strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close and cried out against your shoulder.

“F- finally…” He panted.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, hugging him back.

Holding back the tears of relief from seeing him, feeling his arms around you and his sudden presence was difficult. One tear managed to escape your eye at first and you sniffled softly.

“Something I should’ve done long ago!” He cried.

His cold hands suddenly grabbed the sides of your face and before you could react his lips crashed against yours.

There was no turning back now.

The bottle overflowing with feeling for him had been kicked over and smashed.

You held your arms around him tighter and pressed back against the kiss, tears falling freely.

He pulled back, your lips making a low smack sound and his hands still on the sides of your face when he looked you deeply in the eyes.

“I love you!”

“I love you too.” You almost whispered, drowned out by your tears.

He kissed you again and one of his hands fell to your side.

His kiss was passionate and filled with desire… making out with you, releasing all suppressed feelings.

“Did you come all this way to tell me that?” You sniffed, when he pulled away again.

“and that I’m sorry for not waving you off, I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“If you showed up I would’ve stayed.”

He chuckled and stroked his thumb across your cheekbone to wipe your tears away.

“Maybe it was better that I showed up here instead.”

You nodded and leaned in to kiss him more.

You pressed your forehead against his.

“You must be so tired…” You sniffled.

“I rested when I was in Prague.”

“You were in Prague?”

“and Amsterdam to go to Estonia and then cancelled my flight and rebooked on the spot to Prague instead.” He giggled. “I chased you all this way...”

“Taehyung…” You looked up into his eyes. “You’re crazy.” You giggled through the tears.

“I’m crazy for you.” He kissed your forehead.

“I almost had you in Prague but I arrived at the wrong terminal and they wouldn’t let me through…”

“But… we facetimed…”

“I hid in the bathroom so you wouldn’t see where I was.”

“Why- Why didn’t you just tell me…”

“I wanted to tell you in person.”

You hid your face against his chest.

His hand patted your head soothingly and you stayed like that for a while.

--

“Where are you staying?” You asked, looking back up at him.

“The grand, I think it was called. Where are you staying?” His hand caressed your cheek.

“Near the barcode district.” You sniffed. “I don’t remember the name of it.”

“Can I walk you there?”

“No!” You shook your head and hid against his chest again. “I want to stay with you. You’re not allowed to leave me now.”

“Whatever you say sweetie.” He kissed your head. His voice was so soothing and calm… making you miss him even more despite him being in your arms.

He reached for his scarf and un-wrapped it from his neck, placing it around you instead. His hand grabbed your hand, locking fingers and you began walking back to his hotel.

You held onto his arm with your other hand, refusing to let go of him whatever would happen.

He smiled shyly.

His hotel was barely five minutes away and you quickly got back into the warm indoors and headed straight for his room.

He took off his coat and hung it on the hook by the door and walked over to his tiny carry-on suitcase.

You took off your coat and his scarf and hung it on the hook as well and took a seat on the large bed in his room.

“You’re staying the night.” Taehyung claimed shyly and handed you one of his new t-shirts from his suitcase.

“I’m staying as long as you are, we can get my stuff tomorrow.”

Taehyung smiled, getting to hear exactly what he wanted to hear.

You suddenly felt the delicate touch of his fingers under your chin as he tilted your face up. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He whispered.

“As long as I have?”

“I hope so.”

He stood back up and took out his sleep wear from his suitcase and you fled into the bathroom to change.

If he confessed the full truth he feared he’d scare you away. Not only had he dreamt of your kiss for so long, but also to just be with you… the small moments and the big moments… He was In love with you, so so in love with you… He wanted to spend his life with you, kiss you, hug you, have sex with you, get married, have kids, everything! He knew you were the one for him, even more when he felt the strong regret seeing the time on his phone, knowing that your plane had taken off and that it was too late for him… but it didn’t take him long to go crazy.

He changed quickly and got into bed, not bothering with his routines, all he wanted was to hold you close, from now and forever, throughout the night.

You stepped out of the bathroom with your clothes in your arms and put them down on the couch in the room. You kept your panties on under the oversized t-shirt and quickly made your way to under the covers, next to his warm body.

It felt so right.

He pulled you close, nuzzled his nose against your neck with his arm snug around you.

You belonged in his arms and he belonged in yours.

--

Saying goodbye was hard.

You had to go to France, he had to go back home.

After the few days you shared together in Oslo, you didn’t want him to leave…

The dates, the kisses, the snuggles, the love and affection he gave you… you didn’t want to lose it as soon as you had gained it.

Hi hand caressed your cheek.

“Please cheer up.” He begged.

“I don’t want you to go…” You cried.

“I don’t want to go either, but I have to and you’re doing an important job.”

“Will you call me every day?”

“Of course I will.” He brushed his nose against yours cutely.

“If you ever need me, I’ll be on the next plane. I promise.”

You kissed him.

“I’ll try to come back earlier.”

“I’ll wait for you when you do. I’ll be there to pick you up and kiss you the first thing I do when you get back.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“You’re strong baby.” He smiled. “We can do this.” He ensured, even though it hurt him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.” He kissed your forehead.

“Call me when you’re back at home.”

“I will baby.” He pulled you closer one last time and you shared a long passionate kiss before being pulled apart by thousands of miles for the next few months.

He turned around and holding back his tears were hard.

Something bumped into him from behind and a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

A last hug.

--

Breakfast facetime dates, dinner facetime dates.

In bed facetime dates, out and about facetime dates.

The highlight of the days spent apart.

Weeks passed by and your flight back home had been officially booked and you were counting down the days.

The days until you receive that huge check, the day you’d arrive back home, the day you’d complete your grand mission of honor and the day you would finally be in his arms again…

Few weeks became few days and few days became a few hours when you were waiting at an airport in Germany for a flight to take you directly home, business class.

“A few hours and I’ll see you!”

“Have a safe flight! I can’t wait to finally hug you again.”

--

The countdown had begun.

A promise would be broken.

But it would be worth it… he’d make it all better.

Jimin would pick you up from the airport in his place, something you’d first find out about when you arrived…

He was nervous.

Would you hate him? Probably for a while…

But he had to do this.

In conclusion… Jimin would pick you up, but not drive you home.

Hours passed.

Your flight was approaching.

20 minutes delayed, not too bad.

Jimin was nervous too.

He hadn’t met you in forever…

You had two suitcases pilled on a luggage cart when you spotted Jimin by arrivals.

Surprised and a bit confused you looked around for Taehyung when he approached you.

“Taehyung sent me to pick you up, welcome home, please don’t hit me.” He chuckled and gave you a hug.

Oh well…

Jimin quickly stole the cart from you and pushed it for you towards the pick-up parking.

“You must be a gold member now, considering all the flights you’ve had!” Jimin said.

“Diamond, actually.” You chuckled.

“Diamond even, man I wonder how many levels these airlines actually have before you get a private jet.”

You chuckled.

“How come Taehyung couldn’t come?” You asked.

“Ugh… work is being a bitch you know.”

“I understand.”

“Don’t be mad at him, he really wanted to be here.” He smiled, trying to comfort you.

You put your suitcases in the car and took the cart back before driving away from the airport and on to highway you hadn’t seen for so long…

“It feels nice to be back.” You smiled, exhaling deeply.

“Not much has changed.”

“Good.” You giggled.

Jimin pulled off the highway and you assumed he was just taking a different route.

But roads and streets quickly turned unfamiliar.

“Did I forget the way or are we going somewhere else?”

“This is a short cut I found.” Jimin lied.

“Oh ok.”

You just wanted to go back home as soon as possible and have a long shower.

Jimin suddenly pulled over.

--

He was fidgeting with his fingers.

Why was the flight late? It was making him more anxious…

Maybe he should’ve just gone for there and then at the airport instead… But he wanted the setting to be nice…

He was standing in a tiny park, dressed in a long black coat to keep him warm.

It was early morning and the ground and grass was covered with frost and the park was empty.

--

“Why are we stopping?”

“I need to pick up something here… sorry.”

“Can I stay in the car?”

“Uhm, no… You need to be with me when I pick this up.”

“Is it heavy?” You asked and unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Yeah, sorry….”

You weren’t making it easy for him.

He couldn’t go with you…

You started walking into the park when Jimin suddenly stopped.

“Ah, I- I forgot something in the car, keep walking, I’ll catch up.”

Before any questions could be asked Jimin turned around and ran back towards the car.

You continued on the path, admiring the frost.

You suddenly noticed someone between the trees… Who was in the park this early?

Maybe it was someone taking their dog out?

But no dog was seen…

You walked past the trees and you finally recognized the person standing on the grass, shivering with his hands in his pockets.

This fool….

You ran towards him and he noticed you right away.

You threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him while he picked you up by the waist and spun you around.

“Why are you here?” You laughed and he put you down.

“This park is prettier than the airport.”

What did he mean?

He took a step back and your arms fell from him.

“It’s cold, but know that I’m wearing a suit under my jacket.” He suddenly confessed.

You chuckled, what?

Your expression quickly changed when he reached into his pocket and went down on one knee…

What was happening!? What was going on!? Your heart was racing.

“Will you marry me?”

Your heart wasn’t racing anymore, it was pounding hard in your chest.

“Y- yes!”

He smiled widely and reached for your hand to put the ring on it.

Your hand was shaking, not from the cold…

He stood back up and pulled you close for a deep kiss.

The welcome home kiss you had been waiting for and he had waited to give you.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” He whispered.

You sniffled.

You looked down at the beautiful ring on your finger.

“I first saw that ring when I was in Prague and I knew it’d be the ring I’d propose to you with.”

“Have you held on to it for this long?”

He shook his head.

“I flew over last weekend and bought it.”

“You’re crazy.” You cried out, laughing and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Crazy for you.” he said after the kiss and nuzzled your neck, making you giggle.

--

You looked down at your hand for probably the thousand time that day, unable to stop admiring it.

In your hands was a folder that you had prepared for your big presentation at work.

You had a few days off to prepare from coming back home to coming back to work.

After the presentation you would be handed your check along with a letter of recommendation.

The presentation went well and you were proud of yourself for what you had accomplished. The framed letter and the envelope with the check were handed to you together with a large bouquet of flowers. After the big presentation there was a mingle with small pieces of food and champagne, but you wouldn’t stay for very long.

“You’re going home already, I’ve missed you?” Your coworker pouted.

“Yes, I want to get home and rest after this adventure.” You chuckled.

“I understand, how are you getting home?”

“My fiancée is picking me up.”

“Oh well, next time we work together I want to hear everything about your trip!”

“I’ll let you know!” You smiled and grabbed your bouquet, heading for the exit.

Taehyung had parked right outside and you quickly ran towards the car through the cold and put the flower in the back seat before taking a seat in the front next to Taehyung.

“Hi baby.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss you.

You caressed his jaw and reached for your seatbelt while receiving the sweet kiss.

“Did you wait long?” You asked and buckled it.

“Not long.” He smiled and started the car.

After a short drive you arrived back home at your place. It took a while to get home but during the way you were occupied admiring your fiancées hands on the wheel, more specifically the dainty silver ring on his ring finger, his engagement ring.

Why should you be the only one to have such a prized possession? He was engaged too.

You grabbed his wrist and slid your hand down into his as you walked to your apartment from the car park.

He smiled proudly, holding your flowers for you.

“What are you looking at?” He asked sweetly, noticing you looking down.

“You have such pretty hands.”

“Thank you!” He smiled widely, blushing cheeks puffing up.

--

You walked into your bedroom to get changed into something more comfortable from your formal dress but you struggled to reach the zipper in the back. You gave up with a sigh and popped your head out of the door.

“Taehyung?”

“Yeah?” He turned around to look you way from the sofa in the living room.

“I can’t reach the zipper… can you help me?” You pouted.

He immediately stood up and walked over to your room.

You turned your back against him and moved your hair to the side.

“I think it might be stu-“

He cut you off by kissing your neck.

“I’ll fix!”

He grabbed the zipper and carefully pulled it down slowly, all the way down to your waist, were it came to a stop.

His finger trailed lightly up your spine, giving you shivers.

You only needed help with the zipper…

He slipped your dress off your shoulders, tracing kisses against your left shoulder, following the slow movement of his hand.

The dress fell to the floor, leaving you in only your bra, panties and thigh high socks.

You let him continue.

He unhooked your bra, slipping the straps off your shoulder and repeating his move on your right shoulder.

You quickly grew slightly aroused by his touch and your bra joined the dress on the floor.

You covered your breasts with your arms and looked back over your shoulder to see Taehyung unbuttoning his shirt.

“Help me?” He suggested, raising a brow.

You turned around fully and he eyed you up and down, taking in the view with sudden lust filled eyes.

You moved your arms away and reached for the next button on his shirt. You gasped suddenly when his strong arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer against his body.

You quickly unbuttoned the buttons between you and he pulled his shirt off his broad shoulders and tossed it to the floor.

The next thing you knew, you squealed as he picked you up and put you down on the bed. He let his hands caress up your legs to the hem of your thigh high sock and slipped each one off your legs slowly, one at the time.

Impatient, you sat back up, grabbed his hair and pulled him close; crashing your lips against his in a kiss fueled by hunger and need. He crawled up on top of you on the bed and slipped his tongue between your plump lips.

You wanted him.

He wanted you.

His hands moved up your sides, caressing your skin from your hip to your waist and up along the sides of your chest until he reached your breasts. He cupped each in one hand and squeezed gently, making you let out a soft low moan against the kiss, arousal growing even stronger.

Your hands played with his long soft hair, turning the neat curled style into a fluffed up mess while he explored every surface of your breasts, fondling, squeezing, feeling…

His thumb and index pinched lightly at your left nipple, awakening your arousal even more and stronger and you felt yourself getting wet under his touch.

He pulled away from the kiss and latched on to your right nipple, sucking on it roughly and pulling gently with his lips to make it even harder for him.

His other hand replaced his lips, pinching and twisting ever so gently while he hid his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder, placing soft kisses against your skin.

The touch of his soft wet lips tickled slightly and made you squirm.

He chuckled lightly at your reaction and playfully nibbled your skin, but enough to make it develop into a small bruised mark.

He moved up to your ear lobe instead and nibbled at it gently and let his hands fall to the sides of you instead to support his body.

You pushed him over, rolling on top of him, seated over his hips.

He looked up at you with wide eyes and a surprised expression.

You walked your hands up his bare chest and leaned down by his ear, teasingly repeating his own move and sucking softly at his ear lobe, tugging at it gently with your lips.

A giggle tickled his ear.

You had your left hand against the side of his thick neck, caressing it passionately and feeling his smooth skin.

He seemed to like it, looking up at you with dark eyes and a wide smirk.

His hands travelled up your thighs while your lips trailed kisses down his neck to his collarbone.

You gently squeezed your left hand around his neck, earning a low moan.

You sat up straight, hands pressed against his chest. When you lowered yourself to sit on him you felt his hard bulge poke you through his black jeans. You climbed off him instead and he was quick to tackle you and get back on top.

You reached for his belt buckle and pulled at it a few times before unbuckling his belt. Taehyung placed a kiss on your lips and sat up on his knees over you and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down his thighs, exposing his hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

He got off you and quickly took his jeans off, kicking them off the bed, leaving you in an equal amount of clothing. Getting back on top his lips immediately found yours and he kissed you passionately, lips sucking on lips, tongue swirling around tongue, quickly becoming a mess.

He pulled away, not far. His nose brushed against yours and his hand cupped the side of your face. His thumb caressed your lower lip, dragging across it slowly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered.

“So are you.”

“So beautiful…” He pressed his forehead against yours.

Your fingers found the hem of his boxers and pulled them down slowly as far as you could before he stood up straight on his knees again, touch abandoning you.

He hooked his finger under the side of your panties and began to slip them down your legs as far as possible before he got off of you and yanked them off completely.

His hands reached for himself, sliding his boxers down his hips, exposing himself.

He grabbed his thick cock with one hand after successfully getting rid of the last remaining piece of clothing keeping you apart.

The tip was slightly pink, begging for touch, achingly hard and aroused.

A few subtle veins trailed up his length from the very base of his cock.

He looked good…

Aren’t people the most attractive when they’re aroused and horny?

His hand slowly stroked himself and he swallowed, looking down at you.

You sat up, grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down on the bed, straddling him.

His hand immediately left his cock, making it fall against his lower abdomen as both his hands grabbed your waist.

You positioned yourself and began to grind gently against his cock, making him bite his lip. Sliding up and down his lengths, coating him with your arousal that was just making you more and more wet, aching for relief.

You had your hands pressed against his chest, one of Taehyung’s hands left your waist to caress your wrist instead. You stopped your movements and leaned down to kiss him.

A final kiss before you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself anymore…

You pulled away, leaving him needy for your lips to return. You reached down and wrapped your hand gently around his cock, dragging the tip up and down your slit a few times before you lowered yourself, positioning the tip by your entrance and sliding down his thick length halfway.

Your hand returned to his chest and he thrusted upwards, desperate to slip in further, for you to take his full length. Your nails scratched his skin softly and you let him slide in all the way, stretching you out. He felt so good…

You pushed yourself up and lowered yourself back down again, picking up a slow pace. He exhaled deeply under you as you began to ride him faster, sliding up and down half his length before you pushed down all the way, making both of you let out a whimpering moan. You picked up your speed fast, sliding up and down his thick cock from right beneath his head to the very base.

His big hands grabbed your hips, guiding you and making it even harder to contain the sounds of pleasure needing to escape your throat.

You leaned your head back, smiling widely as pleasure took over all your senses. You felt sexy riding him like this…

You grabbed his hand from your hip and locked your fingers with his, pressing his hand back against the bed, doing the same with the other and leaning down to kiss him.

He moaned against the kiss, desperate to push you back down on his cock but his hands squeezed your tightly as you suffocated his helpless needy whimpers with your tongue.

Your thighs were giving in, but you didn’t want to give in now… not when you were feeling the sweet feeling leading up to your climax.

Out of breath you pulled away from the kiss and Taehyung noticed your building exhaustion. He used his strength and pushed your hands back, making you lose your grip of his hands and he quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down against his chest, making him slip out and he rolled over, now on top of you.

He kissed your lips and thrusted back in hard and deep, making you moan loud.

“I’ll take over now baby.” He whispered.

He went hard.

Full force.

Thrusting deep, hard and fast.

Immediately sending you close to the edge.

“Does it feel good?” He asked in a cocky tone.

“Mhmm” You hummed, holding onto him tight.

“You’re such a good girl.”

“I’m so proud of you, you know that huh?” He panted, repeatedly praising you.

He moaned loudly.

“Fuck!”

He leaned in by your ear, making you able to hear his heavy breathing even more.

“And you’re so good at taking my cock.” He chuckled, devilishly.

He hummed in pleasure against your ear and you grabbed on even tighter, fingers desperately searching for grip on his shoulder blades when you felt your muscles tense up.

He thrusted harder, earning a moan on the border to a scream.

“I’m close.” He whispered and pounded harder into you again.

“D-don’t stop!” You begged.

He went faster, sweat forming on his skin, chest almost heaving and long low whimpers escaping his throat while he chased both your highs.

“T-Taehyung…”

“Yes, baby?”

In the heat of the moment he licked up the side of your neck.

You dug your fingertips deeper into his toned back muscles.

Another fast hard thrust and your muscles claimed all control from you. Tensing tightly before releasing hard, heart beat racing, thighs aching and muscles pulsating tight and hard around his cock.

He let out a few grunts and his thrusts became slower and deeper.

“I-I’m gonna cum.” He whimpered.

Another slow deep thrust and he suddenly let out a deep exhale mixed with a low moan as his muscles finally gave in and you could feel him throbbing as he came.

He kissed you, exhausted but overwhelmed by pleasure. He let out another soft moan against your lips, still cumming.

After a short while he leaned back and carefully pulled out his sensitive cock.

He lied down on his side and you rolled over on to your side, moving close to him and he wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling you even closer and placing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Like this, you felt protected by him.

The energy along with his glow made him appear like the strongest most attractive man…

You snuggled up against his warm chest and heard his heart beating rapidly. You placed your hand over it soothingly and he smiled at you.

“Can you hear my heart?”

You nodded.

“It’s beating fast.” You pointed out.

“Because of you.” He chuckled and brushed his hand through your hair. “My love.”

His words made you blush.

You placed a soft kiss against his heart.

--

The engine of the aircraft roared and it increased in speed rapidly before taking off for the sky.

Your hand was tightly held by the man in the seat next to you.

On his ring finger were two rings… just like on yours.

The hand belonged to your husband.

And his hand belonged to you.

You were admiring the view of the city below becoming smaller and smaller for a while and then turned to your side to look lovingly at your husband.

First class, free upgrade thanks to your previous travels.

And now you were returning.

But this time without one chasing the other. This time instead, to spend the time lovingly with each other, experiencing what you did separately then, together now, on your honeymoon.

First class served chocolate covered strawberries, a treat you both eagerly devoured.

First stop Oslo, next stop France. The city Paris, to be exact, the city known as the city of romance…

What better place to celebrate your love than where it first bloomed and where it then could grow even wilder.

Taehyung raised your hand to his face and pressed his soft pink lips gently against your skin.

“It feels nice to finally fly with you.” He confessed, putting an emphasis on “with”.

“How did you actually fly?” You asked curious.

Taehyung leaned back against his seat.

“First I flew to Amsterdam, then I was going to fly to Copenhagen and change to a flight to Tallinn, but then you texted me saying you were suddenly going to Italy again and then to Prague and because my flight to Copenhagen was delayed I luckily saw that text and ran to the first counter I could find and asked them to book me a ticket to Prague instead but then you were heading to Norway and I was stuck in Prague because all flights were fully booked until the same night I finally reached you.”

“You really are crazy.” You chuckled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“It was the most important trip of my life… the second I looked at the time to see that your flight had taken off, I just broke down and I knew it was too late... unless I did what I did.”

“I love you.” You said, tearing up.

“I love you too.” He kissed your head. “That’s why I married you!” He chuckled, returning to his initial mood.

Talking about that trip always made your heart feel heavy, but not in a bad way but in the overwhelming way, how this man loved you so much that he chased you across the world only to confess his love to you…

Saying yes to him was the easiest choice you had ever made, thanks to the hardest choice you ever had to make.

[againstallelse]

First Draft of whatever this is

Johnlock. Picks up after the final scene in series 4 episode 2 before the Eurus stuff starts. We’re just writing that out. John reads through Sherlock’s messages with Irene Adler and discovers information he wishes he didn’t. Not yet formatted. Looking for proofreaders.

Warnings? Mild. Drug use. Suicidal thoughts. Invasive behavior. Sexual reference.

“People text, even I text, her. I mean, Woman. Bad idea. Try not to, but you know, sometimes…”

Sherlock’s words rang through John’s head like a bell. Over and over, echoing in the dumbfounded emptiness of his brain. No matter how he tried to push the thought away, it came back over and over. Throughout Sherlock’s birthday celebration, the cab home, putting his daughter to bed, and trying to put himself to bed. He laid awake, listening to the words bounce back to him yet again, confused by their persistence.

“He texts her back?” John wondered to himself, “What would Sherlock text her about? He hardly even texts me back. Why is it a bad idea? Apart from all of the obvious reasons. Are there more… sentimental reasons?”

John rolled over in bed, throwing his leg out in frustration. What did it matter? Things were what they were regardless of the situation with The Woman. She wasn’t why his relationship with Sherlock was so severely broken, only splintering more year after year.

He was.

He was to blame for their slowly dissolving relationship. He was why their friendship felt so fragile, like if you simply tapped it, it would come apart. He felt himself slipping into a deep self-loathing for yet another night when the words came around again.

“People text, even I text, her. I mean, Woman. Bad idea. Try not to, but you know, sometimes…”

What do they text about?

    He knew Sherlock’s passcode. Of course he did. He had opened the man’s phone countless times to make calls or send texts for him. They had developed a certain amount of trust, or perhaps a certain amount of acceptance of seeing way more of each other then they intended, in their years of living together. While Sherlock used to, and still sometimes did, actively invade John’s privacy, John had never done such a thing to him in return. His hands were sweating when he picked up the phone shortly after its owner went to shower.

His chat with Irene was easy to find. It had no name, only a wilted rose where her name should have been. He was surprised how fast it was to scroll to the top of their messages. Most were boring, the usual requests to have dinner, the teasing. The flirting. Almost all of which was not replied to. Then a message caught his attention.

Irene: Are you really dead?

Sherlock: No.

Irene:  How lovely of you to join me. Irene: So. Why are you pretending to be dead? Irene: How did you do it? Irene: Does John know?

Sherlock: No.

Irene: Ouch. You faked it without telling him? I wouldn’t want to be him right now.

 The messages were dated within days of Sherlock’s supposed death. She knew. She got to know immediately that Sherlock was fine while he had to suffer, thinking that he had lost his best friend for years. He clenched his teeth and braced himself to read the rest of their messages. He quickly noticed that they often took days to reply to each other and sometimes had months between conversations.

  Irene: Is it boring being in hiding? No cases to solve.

Sherlock: There are always cases to be solved.

Irene: Is there? And can you solve them on your own?

 No response. John kept going.

  Irene: I’m in Greece. If you’re in the area you should hop on a plane and join me. The sunsets are beautiful.

Irene: I’m in a lilac hotel on the ocean, Mr. Holmes. Find me. Join me.

Irene: Where are you anyways?

Irene: The men of Latvia are so dull. They even make me miss England.

Irene: Looking for a vacation spot. Somewhere you’d care to meet for dinner?

Irene: I saw a Holmes spotting online. Are you in Prague? I’m only a few hours away.

Irene: There was someone murdered in this little town in Northern Italy today. I think we could use a Holmes to come sort it out.

Irene: I haven’t had any good food in days. Meet me for dinner.

 Months of silence on Sherlock’s side as the woman threw out so many messages. His more imaginative side wondered if he did go find her at some point, but judging by the total lack of response his logical side knew the answer.

  Irene: Are you ever going to tell John that you’re alive? I’m sure your loss is driving his funny little mind mad.

Sherlock: I can’t tell him.

Irene: Well why not?

Sherlock: If I don’t make it back it’s better to die once and stay dead.

Irene: You don’t think you’ll make it back?

Sherlock: I don’t know.

Irene: That’s your least favorite answer to give.

 John frowned as he read that message. He had always wondered why Sherlock hadn’t let him know, at least give him some sort of sign. He resented him since they day he returned, no matter how hard he tried to push it down it resurfaced at the worst of times. He had never considered that Sherlock had thought it was kinder to only leave once.

His heart began to sink, feeling guilty for reading these messages. But he was already this far. He wasn’t going to stop. He begun to scroll past most of the endless flirting and various holiday acknowledgement, only stopping when something of note came up.

  Irene: Have you seen John’s Facebook?

Sherlock: I didn’t know he had one.

Irene: He does. He doesn’t look good.

Irene: I know you’re looking now.

Irene: Do you see that photo he was tagged in last week? It looks like he’s on death’s door.

Irene: You should call him.

Sherlock: I can’t.

Irene: He loves you. You need to talk to him.

Sherlock: I will when I get back to London.

Irene: If you think it can wait.

 John blinked a bit. He supposed it shouldn’t surprise him anymore that Sherlock never felt the need to dissuade others that they were involved, but in this seemingly private setting with seemingly a close friend, it felt different. He shook it off, forcing himself to continue onwards.

It seemed every few months of no replies, Irene would get frustrated and would throw out John’s name in conversation. It always seemed to warrant a reply.

  Irene: John seems better. I saw him on the street the other day.

Sherlock: You’re back in London?

Irene: Yes. Undercover of course.

Irene: He was with a woman. Pretty blonde lady. They had takeaway bags and were laughing.

Irene: Seems someone’s been replaced.

Sherlock: It won’t matter. It never does.

Sherlock: One of John’s girlfriends has never been a real hindrance before. Just an annoyance.

Irene: He’ll move on eventually you know.

Irene: No matter how wondrous you think you are. No one waits forever. Everyone moves on with their life eventually.

Sherlock: You haven’t yet.

Irene: Oh please.

Irene: Serious Sherlock. Just message him.

 John smiled a bit. At Sherlock’s cockiness. At Irene’s concern. At remembering that time in his relationship with Mary, when things were fun and he felt alive for the first time since Sherlock had left.

His relationship with Mary had moved quickly, which was entirely the fault of Sherlock being gone. John needed someone, needed a companion to fill part of that gaping void left behind by Sherlock. The silence in his home and in his mind were driving him mad. No amount of time with friends, or shifts at work, or bottles of alcohol could save him from the gaping silence left in his life.

Until Mary came. She never filled the hole Sherlock left, but she made things not quite so quiet. Not quite so lonely. She made him eat. And shower. The things John used to do for Sherlock. She believed in him.

  Irene: So, are you in love with him?

Irene: Just between you and I of course.

Irene: I can tell you love him. Any moron with eyes can tell that you love him. But are you in love with him?

Irene: Would you have dinner with him, if he called right now? Would you go find him?

Sherlock: You sound jealous.

Irene: I’m just curious.

Irene: You’re obviously queer. No offense of course. I am too.

Sherlock: What makes it so obvious?

Irene: Everything about you.

 John squinted at the exchange. Was he? Really? Or was he playing with Irene? Over all these years was it just that easy? Would Sherlock had told him as easily if he had asked?

Many months passed without word from Irene. In fact, it was half a year before another message was sent, this time from Sherlock. He wondered if Sherlock had gotten a new number.

  Sherlock: He’s engaged.

Irene: Who? John?

Sherlock: Yes.

Irene: I told you that no one waits forever.

Irene: I’m sorry.

Sherlock: He moved out. I’m back and he’s not here. What do I do?

Irene: What can you do?

Irene: You left him for two years without a word. You can’t expect him to wait for you that long with no promise of you coming back.

Sherlock: What do I do?

Sherlock: What am I supposed to do without him?

Irene: Have you tried telling him that you love him?

Irene: He was more loyal to you than a dog last I checked. It might still work.

Sherlock: Of course I haven’t told him.

Sherlock: Nor do I intend to.

Sherlock: He’s happy. She’ll make him happier than I could ever make him. It’s not a competition.

Sherlock: What do I do with myself?

Irene: Move on with your life. I suppose.

Sherlock: That would be brilliant.

Sherlock: If it was an option.

 John wasn’t even able to fully process the words in front of him. He couldn’t even begin to unravel the feelings that sprung up from reading this exchange. He knew he didn’t have long left and pushed the processing of his feelings aside to gain more information.

The Woman’s messages slowly became less flirty and more concerned.

  Irene: I’m watching The Man Who Fell To Earth. Opinions?

Irene: What do you like to watch?

Irene: What are you doing with your time between cases? Since according to John’s blog you are working together again.

Irene: I think you’re better than she is.

Irene: I hope somebody is remembering to feed you.

Irene: How do you feel about him getting married?

Sherlock: Is there some way I should feel about it?

Irene: Generally people don’t feel fantastic about seeing the love of their life marry somebody else.

Sherlock: He’s happy.

Irene: What about how you feel?

Sherlock: That hardly matters.

Irene: Yes it does.

Irene: You have to live with it. You have to feel it. That matters.

Sherlock: He’s still here. With me.

Sherlock: That’s more than I expected when I saw him with her.

Irene: Is that really enough?

 John realized much too late that he was taking in information that truly, deeply was not meant for him to know. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t unlearn it. He kept going.

  Sherlock: I wish you were here.

Irene: How was the wedding?

Sherlock: Beautiful.

Irene: Are you okay?

Sherlock: No.

Irene: Do you need me? I could be there in a few hours.

Irene: I’m serious. If you need anything.

Irene: Anything at all.

Irene: I’ll pick up and come to you immediately.

 He had noticed that Sherlock had left his wedding early but he had never imagined it was for this. He had just assumed the man hadn’t wanted to spend time with so many people longer then he had to. He imagined the man curled up in his bed, crying whilst texting The Woman. He clenched the arm of the chair with his free hand.

  Irene: Have you eaten?

Sherlock: No.

Irene: For how long?

Sherlock: Days.

Irene: Dinner?

Sherlock: No.

Irene: What would it take for you to have dinner with me?

Irene: For you to just… see me?

Sherlock: What would it take for John to see me?

   Irene: I saw your blog post. Seems you were quite upset about John’s “Sex Holiday” as you put it. Is sex an acceptable word in your vocabulary these days?

Sherlock: I’m upset whenever John is away. I’m upset now and he’s been back in London for over a month and we’ve yet to exchange more than a handful of words.

Sherlock: Sex was never an unacceptable word. Just because I am uncomfortable with a concept it doesn’t necessarily follow that I am uncomfortable with the vernacular.

Irene: Who spiked your tea? You’ve never had that much to say over text before.

Sherlock: Stronger than a spike.

Irene: What?

Irene: What are you doing?

Irene: Sherlock.

Irene: For God’s sake Sherlock! Are you shooting up again?

 She even knew about that before John. The corners of John’s eyes began to burn. How could she know even before he did? Was it always this easy to know Sherlock? He just had to ask. Or was she special?

   Sherlock: I miss you.

Irene: No you don’t. You miss him.

Sherlock: Maybe so.

Irene: You must really resent Mary. Must be hard to see her pregnant and happy.

Sherlock: I don’t. Not at all.

Sherlock: I’m glad John is happy.

Sherlock: Mary is a wonderful woman.

Irene: Oh come on Mr. Holmes. Drop the act. It hurts. It’s obvious.

Sherlock: Don’t assume my feelings work the same as yours.

Sherlock: John is happy. Mary is a good woman. A much better life partner than I would ever make.

Irene: Oh. You don’t hate her because you hate yourself.

Irene: You don’t think you’re worth it.

Irene: I know the feeling, I am genuinely sorry.

 John heard the shower turn off and Sherlock’s shuffle of getting dressed. He began to speed read.

  Irene: I saw you on the news. You look bloody awful.

Irene: Stop killing yourself.

Irene: Even if John isn’t there, you have people who love you.

  Sherlock: Would you like to have dinner with me?

Irene: Not if it’s a farewell.

Sherlock: Worth a shot.

Irene: Ask for help before you ask again. I won’t say no next time.

Irene: You clearly won’t accept it from me. But please find some sort of help.

Irene: At least tell John. Tell him the truth of how you feel. At least try. You’ll feel better.

Sherlock: I tried to. I lost the nerve.

Sherlock: Now I will never see him again.

Irene: Don’t say never. Get help.

 Silence on both sides for months after that. John couldn’t stop himself from being angry at Irene. She knew how bad he was but didn’t keep up with him? Didn’t check in on him? How could she do that?

Even though she did more than he had done to help Sherlock.

Finally he came to Sherlock’s most recently sent message to The Woman.

  Sherlock: Goodbye Ms. Adler.

Irene: Sherlock please for the love of God.

Irene: Don’t do this.

Irene: I’m glad you aren’t dead.

Irene: Happy Birthday, Mr. Holmes.

 John quickly put the phone back where it had been. Just in time too, as Sherlock appeared from the hall just a moment later.

“Oh… you’re still here.” Sherlock drawled, putting on the kettle in the kitchen.

“Yeah. I am.” John acknowledged, doing his best to not look uncomfortable.

“I’m just going to have a cup of tea and go to bed. There is really no need to stay and babysit me right now.” He sounded stiff, a bit miffed at still being treated like a child after his binge and subsequent hospital stay that had nearly killed him. It had admittedly been nearly two months since then, but truly none of them liked leaving Sherlock alone for any period of time. They cycled back and forth between who was babysitting Rosie, and who was babysitting Sherlock.

“I was actually thinking about spending the night.” John’s words tumbled out of his mouth before he had managed to connect what he was saying to his brain.

“Spending the night?” Sherlock scoffed, striding into the living room. “What about Rosie?”

“Molly’s got her. She’s fine taking her overnight.” Something he hadn’t asked her for this particular night. But if he messaged her and explained the situation, he was sure she wouldn’t protest.

“You really don’t need to stay here. You have a life to get back to.”

He was right. He did have a life to get back to. Here, at 221B Baker Street.

John stood, facing Sherlock. The man was entirely ready for bed. He wore a familiar pair of pajamas. A pair his mother had bought him the Christmas they had all spent together. His hair was damp and he smelled like mint. John squared his shoulders. And then walked past him into the kitchen.

“Chamomile or Valerian?” He asked, pulling tea down from the cabinets.

[technicallyhauntedduck]

Klance The Spy Who Dumped Me Au

It’s Keith’s Birthday 

He was looking forward to a good night out but it has been ruined by everyone asking after his ex James 

His ex who went missing a week ago after send Keith one last text 

Hey there, it’s over. Sorry 

Keith remembers this time last year when he had first bumped into James at the same bar 

They had a competition to see who could find the worst song on the jukebox 

Pidge, Keith’s best friend is not up for this reminiscing though and sends James a text letting him know that they will be burning his shit

They head home and start to burn James’s stuff when he calls 

He apologises begs them not to burn his stuff and says he’ll be there in the next day to explain 

Cut to Keith at work the next day 

A handsome man buys some gum and flirts with Keith, asking if he would help him to his car 

Keith goes out and the man introduces himself as Lance 

Keith makes an off handed comment about his lack of judgement walking with a stranger and laughs about how people end up in the back of a van 

“Well this is awkward. Get in the van.” 

So it turns out Lance and his partner Lotor work for the government and James was part of the CIA 

Keith who is a terrible liar ends up telling them that James called him last night 

A freaked out Keith races home to Pidge who is on a call to her parents 

Keith tells her about James and everything he saw 

Just at that minute James jumps through the window 

He explains that he was part of the CIA but they wanted the trophy he had left with Keith 

Suddenly the house is filled with bullets and James has been hit in the shoulder 

He tells Keith they are going to go to a cafe in Vienna and give the trophy to someone called Verne 

James is then shot again by a man who charges into the house 

He’s dead, still on the ground 

Pidge pushes the man out the window and the two run out to the car and drive away 

Keith clutching the 2nd place fantasy football trophy tightly 

The two debate what to do and Pidge argues that they should just go to Vienna 

“Do you want to die having never been to Europe? Or do you want to go to Europe and die having been to Europe?” 

“Why are those my only two options?” 

They go to the cafe which is very fancy but when Pidge heads to the toilet Lance sweeps in holding a gun to Keith’s leg under the table 

They make the exchange but the cafe breaks into chaos 

Everyone is shooting and both Keith and Pidge are screaming 

At one point Keith has a gun and shoots down several people without thinking 

Aiming the shots perfectly 

They run out and decide to get the train to Prague, stealing two passports from a pair of people who look like them 

Keith reveals that he switched the trophy for one at the airport and they discover a drive hidden inside 

Pidge marvels at Keith’s gun skills and intelligence 

In Prague Pidge calls her dad who gives them a location of a safehouse they can go to and they realise time is of the essence as they are now on TV as wanted criminals 

The man at the safe house turns out to not be so great, however, when he drugs Pidge and chucks her into the bathroom where Keith is trying to swallow the drive 

Keith reveals that the real Roger is inside the tub 

Dead 

Pidge tries to swallow the drive but fails and the two collapse 

When they wake they are both strung up by their hands in a gymnasium 

A couple called Hagar and Zarkon ask them what they did with the drive but when Keith explains that he flushed it down the toilet they fly off in their helicopter 

Leaving their protege Nymia to torture answers out of them 

Lance and Lotor arrive but Lotor wants to blow the place up without looking for Keith and Pidge 

So Lance knocks him out and handcuffs him to the steering wheel 

Sneaking in Lance pulls some hardcore parkour, saving them and escaping with only a bullet wound in the shoulder and a sprained wrist 

Keith informs Lance that he trusts him now 

“I should bloody well hope so!” 

Lotor is less than pleased though and so is Allura, Lance’s boss 

She puts Lance on leave for four months and tells Keith and Pidge to go home 

Lotor snarkily remarks that Lance should take them home to prepare for his next job as a taxi driver 

On the drive back Keith asks Lance what he would have done if they still had the drive 

Lance explains he would have tried to break the encryption but he wonders why Keith wants to know 

“Because the drive is in my ass.” 

Pidge is majorly stoked and even Lance seems to be impressed 

“Does it hurt? Does it not hurt?” 

“You get used to it” 

Keith removes it and they head to a library to open the drive 

Pidge impresses everyone with her knowledge of hacking and immediately starts decoding the encryption 

While she does it Lance thanks Keith for trusting him 

Pidge breaks through and they discover that it’s not terrorist plans but a backdoor to every part of the internet 

They travel again, this time to Amsterdam and hide in a hostel 

They meet Hunk, a large but friendly man who is sharing their room 

Lance and Keith have a moment in the bathroom where Lance lists all the impressive things he had seen Keith do 

He also talks about the first time he saw Keith 

The night Keith met James Lance was watching him over comms because he was on a job 

Lance begrudgingly explains that spys don’t make connections unless they truly care 

They return back to the room but discover Pidge tied up and gagged 

Lotor appearing from behind the door 

Lotor disarms Lance and has the gun trained on all three of them 

Forcing Lance to raise his injured hand 

Lotor threatens to kill them and Keith puts himself between Lotor and Lance 

Blaming himself instead 

But Lotor who is working for Galra, the organisation run by Zarkon couldn’t care less

As Lotor is about to pull the trigger Hunk runs in and grabs him 

Smashing him into the ground 

Using Lotor’s phone 

And his thumb which Keith cut off using a knife 

They locate the drop for the drive and impersonate some Canadians to get in 

Lance and Keith as the Canadian ambassador and his husband 

Pidge as a performer in Cirque du Soleil 

Though Keith has to die his hair blond to fit the role 

At the event things go well until Zarkon and Hagar arrive 

Lance leaves to avoid being blown but quickly stops communicating 

Keith goes after him as Pidge is relucantly pulled into one of the acrobatics numbers 

Keith all of a sudden runs into James 

Who is somehow alive and is pointing a gun at him 

James looks shocked to see him and explains that Lance is working for Galra 

But Keith is reluctant to believe him until James says that Lance was only using Keith as bait to draw in him 

He professes his love for Keith and starts asking about the drive 

Saying that Keith can trust him but Keith is still suspicious 

The door opens and Zarkon and Hagar enter with a bound Lance 

James points the gun at him, and Lance is visibly shocked 

“Griffin?” 

“Hey bro” 

James then proceeds to kill both Zarkon and Hagar 

By this point Pidge has finally managed to get away from the show and is running to find Keith 

She sneaks in, watching as Lance and James try to prove who is innocent to Keith 

Eventually James shoots Lance 

Who appears to be dead 

He and Keith hug 

James promising to take care of Keith as he reaches for his gun 

It’s missing 

Keith points the gun at him as Pidge lobs a cannon ball at his head 

He falls to the floor but taunts Keith who feels anger spark inside him

“To quote a text I got once. Hey there, it’s over. Sorry.” 

He pulls the trigger and watches James flinch before revealing he removed the cartridge 

Dropping the gun and raising his hands as the police enter and take Griffin away 

Keith and Pidge hug only breaking away when Lance groans an lifts his head 

Turns out he was wearing a bulletproof vest 

Later they are recuperating and Pidge gives them a moment alone 

Lance asks Keith what he’s gonna tell people about his first trip to Europe 

Keith says that it definitely wasn’t boring but that he didn’t get to do everything he wanted to do 

Lance is curious and after a moment Keith decides to show him moving in to kiss him 

His hands land on Lance’s chest but Lance moves away and Keith immediately apologises 

Lance is also quick to reply explaining that he wanted to but Keith’s hand had landed on his broken ribs 

“Then suck it up” 

Is Keith’s reply as he captures him in a kiss 

They break apart as Pidge returns to let Lance know that Allura called to say he had his job back and that he would know what to do with the drive 

Revealing that she had it this time having managed to swallow it 

1 Year Later 

It’s Keith’s birthday 

He and Lance are celebrating but this time in Tokyo 

Lance is serenading Keith with a microphone 

As Keith is stood by a custom arcade shooting game and Pidge is waiting in the wings 

Lance slings his arm around one of the less than friendly men 

“You say Happy I say Birthday! Happy”

 “...” 

“Happy” 

And he tasers the man in the neck with the mic 

Keith pulls out the guns of the machine 

Which are in fact real guns 

Moments later the three of them are walking down a hidden corridor busting into the mob boss’s room 

“Happy Birthday Keith”

[monabela]

here, have some beer lesbians for @aphrarepairweek2019​! for the first day, prompt magic. I don’t know what this is but at least it’s something? 

show me (this life)

pairings/characters: Belgium (Manon)/Czechia (Kveta)

word count: 1369 summary: The small things in Kveta’s life hold the most magic for her. Of course, the most magical ones are those things her wife does.

It’s the little things.

Among the fast, loud, overwhelmingly large life Kveta leads, it’s the glimpses of the quiet and unassuming, the mundane, that are the most magical. Sometimes, it’s just someone smiling at her as she waits for the underground, or a child waving their toy at her from behind a car window. A biker valiantly making their way through the busy streets of Prague. A couple holding hands, both not wearing gloves despite the chill.

Kveta’s always thought in images; it’s why she became a photographer. When she’s not working on assignment and shooting statuesque models in a chaotic studio, the quiet, magical moments are her favorite thing to capture.

There are pictures scattered all across her home. She imagines they don’t make much sense to most of her visitors, but they’re not for them. There’s only two people living there, and Manon is more than used to Kveta’s idiosyncrasies by now. Besides, it’s not as if she’s not always leaving fabrics everywhere.

(“Aw, look, you’ve covered the picture of your fallen ice cream with—is that denim? Are you designing jeggings now?”

“It’s upsetting, Kveta. Both the ice cream and the implication that I would ever design jeggings.”)

Over the years, Kveta has taken pride in learning more and more of these little things about Manon. When they first met, it was the way she smiled. The curl of her lips always has a mischievous edge to it, and her cheeks dimple when she means it. On their first date, Kveta remembers pulling out a flip phone and taking a picture to commit to memory the way Manon kept fidgeting with the ends of her hair where it curled against her collarbone.

Of course, she found out her phone had flash only at that moment. It worked out.

She draws the line at taking photos of text or chat conversations, otherwise there certainly would have been pictures of the many back-and-forth messages as they found out more about each other while both trying to get a foot in the door in their respective careers, bouncing all over Europe. Manon did run-on sentences well, and it was weirdly endearing to Kveta.

(“I guess those rambling sentences don’t run in the family,” she’d said after meeting Manon’s elder brother, who was stoic as anything and talked in almost utilitarian sentences. Manon had laughed.

“I’ll remind you that you said that when you meet my younger brother.”)

Manon might insist it wasn’t, but Kveta’s quite sure that her learning Czech on the sly was a pretty big thing, and a sign of commitment she’d almost been scared by. The way she can’t entirely get the ř right or sometimes answers the phone in Dutch, however, is another one of those small things Kveta loves about her, if not something she can necessarily take a picture of. It turns out it’s often like that.

Of course, Kveta can’t make head or tails of Dutch, much as she might want to—she does think in images.

(“Honey, ‘cheese cheese windmill’ doesn’t constitute—and you know what, those are the wrong country’s stereotypes anyway, try ‘beer beer fries’.”

“I don’t appreciate your country stealing my country’s stereotypes, Manon.”

“We’re not having the beer argument again.”)

(They always have the beer argument again. It bewilders all of their friends.)

In the mornings, it’s watching Manon put on her makeup and delighting in the knowledge that Kveta is one of the few people who regularly see her without her signature red lipstick. She’s never fussed anymore about Kveta taking pictures of her without it, as long as she doesn’t show them to everyone. She was never planning to, anyway.

Sometimes, Manon tells her about her own little things. That she saw someone helping an old lady across the road, or that Kveta laughed in her sleep before telling someone to fix the ‘clock garage’. Sometimes, they’re on opposite ends of the world and Manon talks about pretty much nothing until Kveta dozes off and her phone slips from her hand. She doesn’t count airport reunions as little things, because even after a significant amount of years together, with a lot of traveling scattered throughout, it still feels like a huge relief to see her again.

And, of course, there was that time at the airport in Brussels when Manon thought it would be a good idea to ask Kveta to marry her. People usually think she’s a little weird shows them her favorite picture of that moment, which is when Manon tripped over the hem of her dress and fell into Kveta, sending them both sprawling to the floor. Manon herself usually responds to this by shrugging exaggeratedly as if to say, ‘This is who I chose to make my wife.’

No one has told the press that the glitzy party they had on the Belgian coast wasn’t actually their wedding, because they’re just famous enough that that was well-reported and they decided they’d rather have something with just their family and close friends instead. Kveta is classifying the whole thing as a small moment by virtue of the intimacy of it, the magic of Manon’s hands trembling ever so slightly when she put the ring on her finger, the way Kveta’s stepbrother had beamed like a proud father through his terrible speech.

(“Is your brother okay? That grin looks painful.”

“It probably is, but he means well.”)

There’s only one picture up in the house of their actual wedding, and it’s a photo of Manon fishing rice out of her cleavage. Manon is very fond of that picture for some reason.

It’s the little things, like introducing her as, ‘Manon, my wife’ and the way Manon never gets the stress on ‘wife’ right in Czech. She might be doing it on purpose. She’s probably doing it on purpose. Kveta likes that about her. She’s not particularly fond of the way she purposefully mispronounces ‘beer’ every time. It’s an easy word!

There’s the way Manon switched out her swing dresses and pencil skirts for jean shorts and a tie-dye top when they went to Prague Pride for the first time, which was in itself pretty magical, but then was even better when she got drunk and started yelling about Belgian beer and Kveta had to drag her away from some angry men in bondage gear. She has some great pictures Manon refuses to look at.

From time to time, Kveta knows, her wife gets homesick. It’s in the way her gaze slides out of the window and lingers on nothing and everything while she idly picks her nails, the way her smile loses a tiny bit of the mischief. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever find the perfect way to make it go away faster, but hopes it helps being there if she can.

There are sparks of magic in the unusual green of Manon’s eyes when she’s just peeking through her lashes after waking up, the creases on her face and the smudge of eyeliner she somehow missed the night before.

She laughs when Kveta kneels over her to try and get the best angle for a picture, attempting to push her off but ultimately giving in, and Kveta always ends up just having to kiss her until she’s fully awake—and she’s never taken pictures of it, but some of her favorite little things are the ways Manon reacts to her when she touches her, how she comes quietly undone at the edges, beautiful and vibrant. That’s hers alone, not even her camera can have that.

Still, she’ll go out into the world, make her way through the tourists at the airport or the haggard commuters on the tram, and live large, and loud, and sometimes quite overwhelming, but Kveta always finds something to ground her. A balloon being carefully protected by the child carrying it, a young man buying flowers for his mother, or just the knowledge that her wife is never far away.

(“I was just thinking about you,” Manon tells her, calling her after a long day in some godforsaken desert when all she needed was to hear her voice. Kveta thinks that might be magic.

“Yeah, me too.”)

[thealmightykiwi]

suicide tw

idk don’t read this? well, I posted it so you can read it but it’s nasty

So, I planned to die. I still sort of want to but it’s not like that anymore.

I wanted to do it on 25th December. Give my mom a nice Christmas Eve when she doesn’t know anything and then the next day go out in the evening, buy a bottle of wine, drink it all and then jump from the bridge. Facing the sky so I won’t see the nearing ground. I always though if I kill myself, then like this. Jumping under the metro is way too nasty. Hanging myself is too much work. Slicing my wrists would hurt and take way too long.  Pills and alcohol wouldn’t likely work and I’d just end up in the hospital with fucked up liver. The view from the bridge is nice. It’s high enough to surely end me. It’d be like flying for a little while. 

I obviously didn’t do it. I’m disappointed I even wanted to and I’m disappointed I wasn’t brave enough to do it. I don’t know what to do with my life now. I fucked up way too many things. I applied for the university in Olomouc and might go there to try studying another subject and escape Prague. I might stay in Prague and... I don’t know. End up as an alcoholic and when they expel me from school and my parents find out and stop sending me money, start selling my body on the streets? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t already stayed in a bar after the closing hour and paid for my drinks like this once or twice. I sleep with random people because I want to feel wanted and I hate myself. I can’t remember when I was completely sober for 24 hours. I don’t really care for the school I’m studying but I hate any other option even more. And I want is for someone to care about me but people just keep leaving and I get it, I'm difficult, I probably wouldn't want to be friends or date me either. And I hate myself and what I’ve become so so much. 

But yeah, I’m alive. I’m not planning to change anything about that in the immediate future. Yeah, this is what that post three weeks ago was about and I thank everyone who wrote to me about it.

My grandfather died a few months ago and my family is still quite fucked up from it. He was 80 years old, ill and never fully recovered from almost being run over by a tank many years ago. When I saw all this I just couldn’t die as well. No matter how much I hate myself and think most people would eventually be better off without me in their lives, they don’t even know what I’ve become and how terrible I am and I just can’t take their illusion of a daughter, granddaughter and niece from them. 

So, I’m staying alive for now. I'm presenting it to myself as a grand sacrifice for my family when really I’m just too afraid to do it.

I don’t know where to turn to (well, I know but I don’t want to), so I thank everyone who texted me/sent me an askt about this, it does so much to just see some people care about me.

[davidcarner]

Chuck and Sarah vs The Breakup Ch 7, Beautiful With You

A/N: I didn't realized I hadn't updated this one in awhile, so I began to work on it, and then I realized why…Jill. It's such a shame, I like Jordana Brewster, but this character….yeah. So I'm condensing Fat Lady and Gravitron into one, just to get it over with. I'm beginning to realize I'm really about to leave cannon completely with the changes I've made because obviously there's no Prague, no Shaw, no Hannah, none of that stuff. Bryce's return should be fun….hehehe…okay, on with this chapter before Mojo01 hunts me down. He needs his laugh quota. Today's chapter title is inspired by Halestorm. Ch 7, Beautiful With You

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, or Halestorm, but I do own a guitar…that I can't play…I am beautiful with you…You want me for myself…Look at me like no one else…

Sarah smiled at Ellie as she leaned up against the counter at Carmichael Solutions.

"If you look any happier you might explode," Ellie said. Sarah just beamed. John started into the kitchen when he saw Ellie and paused. "Any more bugs in my house, John?" she asked. John shook his head and scampered off.

"Five bucks says he send Morgan in here to get his coffee," Sarah said.

"Perhaps I should talk with him," Ellie said. Sarah laughed.

"He's not happy with Chuck and I right now," Sarah said, a grin on her face. Ellie perked up. Sarah looked around to make sure Chuck was nowhere nearby. "The last mission, we thought we were poisoned, so we jumped in the shower to wash off whatever we could."

"Makes total sense," Ellie said.

"Chuck took off all his clothes," Sarah began and Ellie's smile lit up. "I asked him last night why, and he said he didn't know he shouldn't. He thought he was doing the right thing, I've seen him naked, so, what the heck."

"Again, perfect sense," Ellie said.

"So, Chuck's thinking we're going to die, he's naked, washing me all over, and…" Sarah trailed off.

"And Bob's your uncle," Chuck said, walking in. "Really you have to tell my sister?" Chuck asked.

"I am the physician of this team," Ellie said.

"Co," Chuck said. "And don't you deal more with brains."

"We both know you weren't using your brain right then," she said. Chuck blinked and went back to his coffee. "Casey walked in?" Ellie asked Sarah. She nodded.

"Yes, he got to see my backside, and yelled something about brain bleach," Chuck said. Ellie was crying she was laughing so hard. "But, it gets worse. My diabolical, sexy girlfriend convinced Beckman that Morgan has to be protected, so he's moving in with Casey. That should also help keep Jill from trying to sleep with him, I hope."

"She's bad news," Ellie said.

"Speaking of protection," Sarah began, and Chuck and Ellie both looked at her a little wide-eyed. "Not like that," she said. "Ellie, I need you to look into seeing about getting Chuck some physical skills loaded into the Intersect. He's not going in the field, but if he could protect himself…" Sarah trailed off. Ellie was nodding.

"That makes sense," Ellie agreed, thinking. "Plus, I want to see you flash while you're hooked up so I can scan your brainwaves. I want to make sure there is no damage and make sure it's as smooth as possible. What about physical training? Knowing how is no good if the muscles can't keep up."

"I'm going to be working with him on that part," Sarah said. "We're going to train and spar. Plus I may get Devon to help us. Part of me thinks we should have opened a gym, but I guess Mr. Computer nerd over here would look out of place."

"Hey, the nerd has feelings," Chuck said.

"We're all quite aware," Ellie replied. Morgan came in to get coffee, and Ellie and Sarah began to laugh. "Hey, why don't you come down to the lab and I run some baseline sequences on you?" Chuck shrugged and followed Ellie. He jumped when something hit his backside.

"Sarah, careful," Chuck said.

"Your sister is aware of what we're doing," Sarah said, smiling.

"Not that, you don't want to damage the Intersect," Chuck said. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Chuck, the Intersect is not in your ass," Sarah said, smirking.

"It would explain a lot if it was," Casey said, walking by.

"How does he do that?" Chuck asked.

}o{

Chuck found himself hooked up to a bunch of machines with multiple nodes sticking out of him.

"Did I tell you I once had a dream that you were a modern day Frankenstein?" Chuck said.

"You do mean the doctor, and not Frankenstein's monster?" Sarah replied.

"You know how much I love it when you talk literary nerd to me," Chuck said. Sarah played with the curls that were available to her.

"You mentioned a Fibonacci sequence earlier, what exactly is that?" Sarah asked.

"Tsk, tsk, did you sleep during those classes at Harvard?" Chuck asked.

"I may have been saving the world with the CAT Squad," she said. Chuck flashed. "He's flashing, Ellie!" she yelled.

"Wow!" came Ellie's response watching the monitors.

"Wow!" Chuck said, looking at her. She gave him a wink and leaned down.

"I have that suit at home," she whispered. Chuck's eyes glazed over.

"Sarah, easy," Ellie called. "And don't tell me you didn't do anything, his prefrontal cortex just shut down."

"Sorry, Ellie, I was just playing with my Chuck," she said, grinning.

"Sarah," she said warningly. "Now I know how Chuck feels around me and Devon," she muttered.

}o{

"So it was fruit punch?" Jill asked.

"Rootin' Raspberry flavored Hi-C to be exact," Ellie said, still not comfortable with Jill being there. "I had it run on the mass spectrometer just to be safe."

"Guy is very paranoid and always has crazy ways to even open emails," Jill explained. Chuck was looking at the box.

"High C as in a music?" Chuck asked, looking at the box. Casey cocked his head to the side, and let out a perfect note. The box opened.

"That is so impressive, dude," Morgan said. He turned to Jill. "Isn't that impressive?" She just shook her head, looking at him. Morgan had turned back to Casey. "Why don't you sing in the shower?"

"I do, I just haven't since you moved in," Casey said, shrugging. Morgan shook his head.

"No, no, no, John. You don't cage that heavenly voice on my account," Morgan said. Jill leaned in toward Sarah.

"Should I be worried?" she asked. Sarah shrugged.

"I would have said no, but now…" Sarah trailed off. "Don't let Ellie become single is the one thing I can tell you." Jill leaned away. "I hate this assignment," Jill thought to herself.

}o{

"I don't like this," Chuck said to Sarah.

"I'm not crazy about you doing all you did today," Sarah said. Chuck nodded.

"They had my little buddy, Sarah," Chuck began. After they had found the USB, Morgan and Jill were captured. Chuck called Sarah, with a plan, and she had approved it. The trade happened with no bloodshed and the assassin was captured. Jill asked Morgan to go out with her, and Morgan, having no good reason not to, did. Casey put a tracker on Morgan. Chuck didn't even want to know where it was.

"I know," Sarah replied. "I just didn't like it. I'm just glad you trusted me to tell me."

"I'm glad you listened," he said. Sarah smiled at him.

"Always, Chuck, always." She started to kiss him, when Casey groaned.

"Do you two have to break in everyplace you are together with your bodily fluids?" Casey asked.

"I'm pretty sure it was in the new agreement Sarah and I signed," Chuck said.

"Common spy problems, Casey," Sarah said. Casey grunted, and then grunted again. The second one got Chuck's attention. He looked up, saw Jill was Fulcrum, then saw her codename, Sandstorm, and flashed. Sarah looked at him, he nodded, and they all dashed out of the room without a word said.

}o{

"Don't worry, Jill, it happens to a lot of people," Morgan said. "Everyone just thinks it's easy, but then they try it, and they're so wrong."

"But I can dance!" Jill retorted, hating this assignment.

"But as we can see you can't Dance, Dance Revolution can you," he said smiling. Jill just stared at him. "Yeah, let me go get some ice for that ankle you twisted." Jill waved him off, and was stunned when Chuck crashed into Morgan.

"You're okay!" Chuck said.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Morgan replied, confused. Chuck looked over at Jill.

"Oh, Jill was the one hurt," Chuck said, thinking fast. Casey and Sarah ran up behind Chuck, looking worried. "Calm down, guys," he said turning to them. "It's not that bad."

"Yeah, she only sprained her ankle," Morgan said slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. Sarah looked like she could cry and grabbed Morgan in her best Ellie simulated hug she could muster. When she let go, she looked as thought she was wiping tears from her face.

"But, how did they know I was hurt?" Jill asked.

"Well, you know Casey, he's worried about his little buddy," Chuck said. "You know, the way you broke my heart, he wants to be nearby. The big guy is worried." Casey wanted to throw up in his mouth, but he quickly gave Morgan a hug.

"I'm so glad you're alright," he said, and shot Chuck a death glare where only Sarah and Chuck could see it.

"I can't save you from this," Sarah whispered.

"Totally worth dying for," Chuck whispered back. Casey let Morgan go, and walked off.

"I've got to get some ice," Morgan said, and Chuck walked away with him. When they were out of earshot for Chuck, he pulled out a phone. "This is Jill's phone, it got a text." Chuck looked at it, it said Have you heard from Uncle Tobias? – Mom, and he flashed. The flash let him read the code, Meet Leader, Urgent.

"Jill is Fulcrum," Chuck said, shaking his head.

"We know," Morgan replied.

"No, she's been confirmed," Chuck explained.

"Thank God, there was no way I was sleeping with her, man how did you stand her all those months," Morgan asked. Chuck gave him a look. "Sorry, bro," he said, realizing that was a bit of a shot. "Now I can get out of here." Chuck just looked at him. "NO, Chuck, no!" Chuck gave a tight smile. "You're lucky you're my best friend."

"Sarah said we get a Call of Duty night," Chuck offered. Morgan thought.

"Chance of dying by an enemy organization, or a Call of Duty night," Morgan said.

"On the big TV?"

"Sold!"

}o{

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked Chuck. They were in their apartment, after Jill had been taken back to her place. Morgan was with Casey, talking about the best way to prune a bonsai tree.

"You mean am I okay, that my former girlfriend works for a terrorist organization and my best friend is having to fake date her, while the tree of us just sit here and watch?" Chuck asked. Sarah gave him a tight smile. "No, I'm not, but you're here with me, and I know you'll watch him, just like you would me. So, that means he's safe." Sarah just stared at him, and Chuck was looking around again. "I swear you don't move anything, so I'm not 100% sure that noise is coming from you."

"Bartowski," she said, making Chuck's eyes go wide. "I'm going to need you to lock it in so I can focus." Chuck gulped. "Unless you can tell me something to stop…this…you need to stay quiet."

"Once this is over, you're going to owe Morgan several Call of Duty night," Chuck said.

"That's a start," she said.

"No, you don't understand, all four of us," Chuck said. Sarah blinked several times.

"You mean, Casey and I have to join you?" she asked. Chuck waited for the explosion, but what happened he wasn't expecting. "You mean," she said, laughing. "I get to watch you and Morgan constantly kill Casey in the game, while you go on about one of your sandwich debates?" Sarah was laughing so hard she was having trouble breathing. She had been sitting on the arm of the couch beside Chuck, but with that, she fell onto the couch, her head on his shoulder, guffawing. Chuck heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!" he yelled. Sarah was slapping his leg, while still laughing. Morgan walked in and he saw her. He held you his hand. Chuck leaned forward, Sarah fell behind him, still laughing. Chuck stood, pulled out his wallet and handed Morgan twenty bucks. "I still don't know how you got this right and I didn't."

"Simple," Morgan said. "In the past she has asked me to talk with you about sandwiches to keep you busy. I didn't know why, but at the time she was near tears laughing. Now I understand." Chuck turned to look at her, impressed with her deviousness.

"You are absolutely evil," Chuck said with a grin. Sarah, with tears streaming down her face and still laughing just nodded.

"Wait til April Fool's Day!" she said.

"I feel like your great romance with Casey is over," Chuck said. Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes. Morgan looked confused, so Chuck explained it to him. After he was done, Morgan was laughing, and then remembered why he was there.

"I just came to warn you, Ellie just burst into mine and John's apartment," Morgan said. Chuck looked confused. "The very Awesomes are coming." Chuck groaned. "Something about a cleaning team to your sister's apartment?" Chuck began to laugh.

"Does Ellie realize that you can't just misappropriate a cleaning team like that, and that's not really what one is for?" Sarah asked, sobering up. Chuck looked at her.

"You think John wants to cross Ellie, especially given the past few weeks?" Chuck asked. Sarah smiled.

"This assignment has turned out better than I thought," Sarah said.

"

"She also told John he needed to have them come up with a perfectly cooked Turkey, or he wasn't invited to Thanksgiving," Morgan said. "Casey tried to get her to uninvite me, but she said I was dealing with Jill, so there was no way." He paused and got a faraway look in his eye. "She still wants me."

"Buddy, you realize her future in-laws are coming," Chuck said. Morgan waved his hand.

"Minor details, Buddy, minor details," Morgan said going away to his Ellie happy place again.

"Doesn't that bother you a little knowing he's thinking of your sister like that?" Sarah asked softly. Chuck turned, gave her a look, and walked away. "I'm sorry," she called after him.

}o{

"I feel like this is all I ask you on this mission, but are you okay?" Sarah asked Chuck. Chuck ran his hand through his hair.

"You mean my ex-girlfriend trying to give us the slip and taking Morgan on a Farris Wheel ride the way I did her back at Stanford and then tried to hand her over to Leader, nah…all good," Chuck said.

"Two things, one, good work on figuring out where Morgan and Jill were, two, I know your all good's and that's not an all good," Sarah said. "Chuck, you wouldn't be you if this didn't bother you." Chuck turned to her.

"This is hard, because of what we are," he began. Sarah nodded and Chuck took a deep breath. "Her and I are so over, in fact, I'm not sure we ever were, because I may have been nothing more to her than a mission." Sarah pressed her lips together in silent agreement. "It still bothers me, and that bothers me. I am with the greatest woman I ever met, and yet this woman who has done nothing but cause me pain…." He looked up at her. "You deserve better than this, and I'm sorry."

"Wait, you're apologizing over how Jill is making you feel?" Sarah asked, stunned.

"Yeah, you don't deserve…Sarah? Not again!" Chuck said, hearing the low growl.

"Bartowski, you are hurting and you're worried about me!" she said, slowly walking toward her. Chuck started rolling back in his chair, but the wheel caught on something. He looked down, and by the time he looked back up, she had managed to straddle him. He gulped. "I've got something to make you forget her," she said as sultrily as she could. A minute later a door opened and Ellie walked in.

"Hey, Sarah, Oh! Excuse me!" she said. Sarah shot off her lap, and straightened her clothes. Chuck sat there, his mind gone. "What did he do?"

"He's worried about how it hurts me for him to be upset during this Jill mission," Sarah said. Ellie shook her head.

"Casey and Morgan have a location," she said. "You will be at Thanksgiving, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything," Sarah said, grabbing Chuck's hand, pulling him up, and leading him off. Ellie just watched them go, and headed into the room with Jill.

}o{

"Chuck, you need to watch this," Sarah said, bringing up the footage while they were gone. They both watched as Jill, hooked to a lie detector test, told Ellie, that she did love Chuck, that what they had was real, and that she didn't cheat on Chuck with Bryce. Sarah stood there quietly.

"It doesn't matter," Chuck said shrugging.

"I mean she could fool the test, that's true," Sarah said. Chuck turned to her, smiling.

"No, it doesn't matter, I'm with the woman of my dreams, the woman of my future, and the woman I want to spend the rest of my days with," he said, grinning, and putting his hand to his ear. "I swear I-" Sarah pounced. Ellie and John walked in five minutes later.

"Chuck," John began. "Oh what the fresh hell, my eyes!" John screamed.

"I need brain bleach!" Ellie screamed as she and John ran out of the room together.

}o{

"Good work, Sarah," Beckman said during their debriefing. "This could have gone horribly wrong at many points." Sarah nodded in agreement.

"Without the relationship of trust and honesty he and I have been working on…" Sarah shook her head and looked away for a minute. "He could have let her go, hell, General, most civilians like him would have."

"Did you ever see a moment where you thought he would?" Beckman asked. Sarah shook her head. "Then I think it's time to take this to the next level." Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Obviously, it would be best if you didn't do seductions any longer, I believe it would impact Chuck negatively, plus it would affect his ability to access the Intersect," she said with a smile. Sarah gave a tight smile and nodded. "You need another female member, and I'm not sure which way to go. There are two candidates, but only one is currently available."

"Is it Carina?" Sarah asked, wincing. "She's my friend, General, but she's…"

"Unreliable?" Beckman offered. Sarah nodded. "No, Sarah, we won't be using her right now. She is unavailable, instead we are going to try a different agent, and she WILL report to you, have no doubt. Agent Alex Forrest will be joining the team. Let's not tell her about the Intersect until you are sure she can be read in with few problems." Sarah nodded. "Happy Thanksgiving, Sarah." And with that the screen went blank. Sarah left her apartment and made her way over to Ellie and Devon's.

"Where's the Very Awesomes?" Sarah asked.

"Couldn't make it," Chuck answered. "Instead we got to add Lester and Jeff."

"Oh, goody," she said. Chuck gave her a light shoulder bump and she chuckled. "We're getting a new member to help with missions, specifically ones that would negatively affect our asset and his special skill." Chuck grinned and pointed toward his head. She smiled and nodded. "Keep that special skill to your self right now, until she's read in." Chuck nodded. "Chuck, seriously, thank you, that mission could have gone wrong so many ways."

"Sarah, thank you, for being there with me every step of the way, because without you…I probably done something stupid," Chuck admitted. Sarah smiled.

"I'm really liking my new permanent assignment," she said.

"I hear the asset is enjoying it himself," Chuck said. He turned to her. "I despise you, Sarah Walker." She gave him a quick kiss.

"I despise you," she replied.

"Break it up, you two," Casey grumbled as he walked by.

"He's jealous," Chuck loud whispered to Sarah. "I heard him tell Morgan he's never been happier with a building in his life." Sarah shook her head.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Nerd." Sarah said, shoulder bumping him.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Sarah," Chuck said, kissing her forehead and pulling her close.

A/N: …Does it make it weak if you're needing someone I'm not hold back and I know what I want…Til next time!

DC

[josidel]

EPIC TALE OF LOSING $30,000 IN BITCOIN

January 2016, I spent $3,000 to buy 7.4 bitcoins. At the time, it seemed an entirely worthwhile thing to do. I had recently started working as a research director at the Institute for the Future’s Blockchain Futures Lab, and I wanted firsthand experience with bitcoin, a cryptocurrency that uses a blockchain to record transactions on its network. I had no way of knowing that this transaction would lead to a white-knuckle scramble to avoid losing a small fortune.

My experiments with bitcoin were fascinating. It was surprisingly easy to buy stuff with the cryptocurrency. I used the airBitz app to buy Starbucks credit. I used Purse.io to buy a wireless security camera doorbell from Amazon. I used bitcoin at Meltdown Comics in Los Angeles to buy graphic novels.

November, bitcoin’s value had nearly doubled since January and was continuing to increase almost daily. My cryptocurrency stash was starting to turn into some real money. I’d been keeping my bitcoin keys on a web-based wallet, but I wanted to move them to a more secure place. Many online bitcoin services retain their customers’ private bitcoin keys, which means the accounts are vulnerable to hackers and fraudsters (remember the time Mt. Gox lost 850,000 bitcoins from its customers’ accounts in 2014?) or governments (like the time BTC-e, a Russian bitcoin exchange, had its domain seized by US District Court for New Jersey in August, freezing the assets of its users).

I interviewed a handful of bitcoin experts, and they all told me that that safest way to protect your cache was to use something called a “hardware wallet.” This little device is basically a glorified USB memory stick that stores your private bitcoin keys and allows you to authorize transactions without exposing those keys to the internet, where they could be seized by bad actors. I settled on a hardware wallet called the Trezor (the Czech word for “safe”), described by the manufacturer as “bulletproof.” I bought one on November 22 for $100 on Amazon (again, via Purse.io).

When the Trezor arrived, I plugged it into my computer and went to the Trezor website to set it up. The gadget’s little monochrome screen (the size of my two thumbnails, side by side) came to life, displaying a padlock icon. The website instructed me to write down 24 words, randomly generated by the Trezor one word at a time. The words were like “aware,” “move,” “fashion,” and “bitter.” I wrote them on a piece of orange paper. Next, I was prompted to create a PIN. I wrote it down (choosing a couple of short number combinations I was familiar with and could easily recall) on the same piece of paper as the 24-word list.

The Trezor website explained that these 24 words were my recovery words and could be used to generate the master private key to my bitcoin. If I lost my Trezor or it stopped working, I could recover my bitcoin by entering those 24 words into a new Trezor or any one of the many other hardware and online wallets that use the same standard key-generation algorithm. It was important for me to keep the paper hidden and safe, because anyone could use it to steal my 7.4 bitcoins. I transferred my currency from my web-based wallet to my Trezor, tossing both the Trezor and the orange piece of paper into a desk drawer in my home office. My plan was to buy a length of flat aluminum stock and letterpunch the 24 words onto it, then store it somewhere safe. I was going to do it right after the holidays.

The Mistake:

It was 6:30 in the morning. My 14-year-old daughter, Jane, was in London on a school trip, and my older daughter, Sarina, was at college in Colorado. My wife Carla and I were getting ready to leave for the airport to take a vacation in Tokyo. As I was rummaging through my desk drawer for a phone charger, I saw the orange piece of paper with the recovery words and PIN. What should I do with this? If our plane plowed into the ocean, I’d want my daughters to be able to get the bitcoins. The coins had already nearly tripled in value since I bought them, and I could imagine them being worth $50,000 one day. I took a pen and wrote on the paper:

Jane, if anything happens, show this paper to Cory. He’ll know what to do with it. Love, Dad

(“Cory” is Cory Doctorow, my friend and business partner at my website, Boing Boing. He’s not a bitcoin enthusiast, but I knew he’d be able to figure out how to retrieve the master private key from the word list.)

I took the paper into Jane’s bedroom, stuck it under her pillow, and we took a Lyft to LAX.

The Garbage:

We returned from Tokyo on March 24, and I didn’t even think about the orange piece of paper until April 4, when I remembered that I’d put it under Jane’s pillow. That’s funny, I thought. She’s been home more than a week and never said anything to me about it.

I went into her room and looked under her pillow. It wasn’t there. I looked under her bed, dragging out the storage boxes to get a better view, using my phone as a flashlight.

“Carla?” I asked. “Did you see that orange piece of paper with my bitcoin password on it? I can’t find it in Jane’s room.”

“Maybe Jane put it in her desk,” she said. Jane was in school, but I texted and asked her. She said she never saw an orange piece of paper.

“Wait,” Carla said. “We had the house cleaned while we were gone. I’ll call them.”

Carla called the cleaning service we’d used and got the woman who cleaned the house on the line. She told Carla that she did indeed remember finding the orange piece of paper.

“Where is it?” Carla asked.

“I threw it away.”

I knew the garbage had already been collected, but I put on a pair of nitrile gloves and went through the outside trash and recycling bins anyway. Nothing but egg cartons, espresso grinds, and Amazon boxes. The orange piece of paper was decomposing somewhere under a pile of garbage in a Los Angeles landfill.

Carla asked if losing the paper was a big deal.

“Not really,” I said. “It’s just a hassle, that’s all. I’ll have to send all the bitcoins from the Trezor to an online wallet, reinitialize the Trezor, generate a new word list, and put the bitcoins back on the Trezor. It would only be bad if I couldn’t remember my PIN, but I know it. It’s 551445.”

The Forgetting:

I plugged the Trezor into my laptop and entered 551445.

Wrong PIN entered.

I must have made an error entering the PIN, I thought. I tried 551445 again, taking care to enter the digits correctly this time.

Wrong PIN entered.

Uh oh. I tried a slight variation: 554445

Wrong PIN entered.

This is ridiculous, I thought. I knew the PIN. I’d entered it at least a dozen times in recent months without having to refer to the paper. OK, it’s probably 554145.

Wrong PIN entered.

I looked at the tiny monochrome display on the bitcoin wallet and noticed that a countdown timer had appeared. It was making me wait a few seconds before I could try another PIN. My heart fluttered. I went to the hardware wallet manufacturer’s website to learn about the PIN delay and read the bad news: The delay doubled every time a wrong PIN was entered. The site said, “The number of PIN entry failures is stored in the Trezor’s memory. This means that power cycling the Trezor won’t magically make the wait time go to zero again. The best you can do by turning the Trezor on and off again is make the timer start over again. The thief would have to sit his life off entering the PINs. Meanwhile, you have enough time to move your funds into a new device or wallet from the paper backup.” (Trezor is based in Prague, hence the stilted English.)

The problem was, I was the thief, trying to steal my own bitcoins back from my Trezor. I felt queasy. After my sixth incorrect PIN attempt, creeping dread had escalated to heart-pounding panic—I might have kissed my 7.4 bitcoins goodbye.

I made a few more guesses, and each time I failed, my sense of unreality grew in proportion to the PIN delay, which was now 2,048 seconds, or about 34 minutes. I opened my desktop calculator and quickly figured that I’d be dead before my 31st guess (34 years). One hundred guesses would take more than 80 sextillion years.

I broke the news to Carla. I told her I couldn’t remember the PIN and that I was being punished each time I entered an incorrect PIN. She asked me if I’d saved the PIN in my 1Password application (a secure password app). I told her I hadn’t. When she asked me why, I didn’t have an answer.

I knew it would be a mistake to waste a precious guess in my agitated condition. My mind had become polluted with scrambled permutations of PINs. I went into the kitchen to chop vegetables for a curry we were making for dinner. But I couldn’t think of much else besides the PIN. As I cut potatoes into cubes, I mentally shuffled around numbers like they were Scrabble tiles on a rack. After a while, a number popped into my head: 55144545. That was it! I walked from the kitchen to the office. The Trezor still had a few hundred seconds left on the countdown timer. I did email until it was ready for my attempt. I tapped in 55144545.

Wrong PIN entered. Please wait 4,096 seconds to continue…

I barely slept that night. The little shuteye I managed to get was filled with nightmares involving combinations of the numbers 1, 4, and 5. It wasn’t so much the $8,000 that bothered me—it was the shame I felt for being stupid enough to lose the paper and forget the PIN. I also hated the idea that the bitcoins could increase in value and I wouldn’t have access to them. If I wasn’t able to recall the PIN, the Trezor would taunt me for the rest of my life.

The Search:

That morning, bleary eyed, I started looking into ways to get my bitcoins back that didn’t involve recalling my PIN or recovery words. If I’d lost my debit card PIN, I could contact my bank and I’d eventually regain access to my funds. Bitcoin is different. No one owns the bitcoin transaction network. Instead, thousands of computers around the world run software that validates the system’s transactions. Anyone is allowed to install the bitcoin software on their computer and participate. This decentralized nature of the bitcoin network is not without consequences—the main one being that if you screw up, it’s your own damn problem.

 I went to /r/TREZOR/ on Reddit and posted:

Feel free to ridicule me—I deserve it. I wrote my PIN code and recovery seed on the same piece of paper. I was planning to etch the seed on a metal bar and hide it, but before that happened my housecleaning service threw the paper away. Now I can't remember my password and I have tried to guess it about 13 times. I now have to wait over an hour to make another guess. Very soon it will be years between guesses. Is there anything I can do or should I kiss my 7.5 bitcoins away?

Most of the replies were sympathetic and unhelpful. One person said I should get in touch with Wallet Recovery Services, which performs brute-force decryption on encrypted Bitcoin wallets. I emailed them and asked for help. “Dave Bitcoin” replied the next day:

I would like to help you ... but I do not see any solution to your problem. You need to either guess your PIN correctly, or find your seed.

A response on the Reddit forum from a user with the handle zero404cool was intriguing:

…all your information is still stored inside Trezor and there are people who know how to get all the information that is needed to get your wallet working again. I have seen it.

He added in another post:

Just keep your Trezor safe. Don't do anything with it. There is no need to try different PIN codes. You can regain possession of all your bitcoins.

The other users on the subreddit thought zero404cool wasn’t on the level. One said he might be a scammer; another accused him of spreading “FUD” (fear, uncertainty, and doubt) about Trezor’s security. I was inclined to agree with them, especially after reading about the lengths Trezor had gone to to make its device impenetrable to hackers. The manufacturer claimed with confidence that the Trezor could withstand any attempt to compromise it. The most obvious way to crack it, by installing unofficial firmware designed to unlock the PIN and keywords, would only have the effect of wiping the Trezor’s storage, the website said.

To confirm, I emailed Trezor and explained my predicament. A customer service representative emailed me back with a link to its “emergency situations guide,” none of which applied to my emergency situation. She wrote:

In all these situations there is either a PIN code or recovery seed needed to get an access to your funds. Unfortunately, without knowledge of at least one of these, no one is able to get access to this particular account with the funds stored on it. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mark?

The situation was starting to feel hopeless. In the meantime, zero404cool sent me a direct message on Reddit offering to help:

Yes, I can help you if you are willing to accept my help. Obviously, you are not going to find these instructions anywhere online. And it requires certain technical skills to complete them properly. A professional can extract all information just in 10 seconds. But this is not public knowledge, it's never going to be.

The problem is that I don't know you. I don't know if your story is real or not. I don't even know if you are a real person who really owns a Trezor. For example, You could as easily ask this to hack into someone else’s device. I can't allow that.

So, for this to work we have to gain each other’s trust I guess.

I wrote back and told zero404cool to Google my name, to help him decide if he could trust me. He’d see that I was one of the first editors of Wired, coming on board in 1993. I founded the popular Boing Boing website, which has 5 million monthly unique readers. I was the founding editor-in-chief of the technology project magazine, Make. A while later, zero404cool replied:

Hi Mark, It seems that you are not afraid of soldering and command line programs. I guess we can proceed with this recovery as DIY project then? I am somewhat busy at the moment; I hope that you are not in too much hurry to complete it?

I replied that I wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t hear from him after that.

The Hypnotist:

“The hypnosis allows us to open all channels, all information,” Michele Guzy said. I was in a reclining chair in her Encino office, covered in a blanket, concentrating on her soothing patter. My wife, a journalist and editor, had interviewed Michele a few years ago for an article about hypnotism in movies, and I was so desperate to recall my PIN that I made an appointment with her.

Earlier in the session, Michele had me reenact the experience of writing my PIN on an orange piece of paper. She put the paper in her desk drawer and had me sit down and open the drawer and look at the paper. She explained that we were trying different techniques to trigger the memory of the PIN.

The exercises didn’t cause anything to surface to my conscious mind, but Michele told me that we were just priming my subconscious for the upcoming hypnosis portion of my appointment. She dimmed the lights and spoke in a pleasantly whispery singsong patter. She asked me to imagine going down a long, long escalator, telling me that I would fall deeper and deeper into a trance as she spoke. The ride took at least 15 minutes. I felt relaxed—but I didn’t feel hypnotized. I figured I should just go with it, because maybe it would work anyway.

After nearly four hours in her office, I decided the PIN was 5514455.

It took me a few days to build up the nerve to try it. Every time I thought about the Trezor my blood would pound in my head, and I’d break into a sweat. When I tried the number, the Trezor told me it was wrong. I would have to wait 16,384 seconds, or about four and a half hours, until the device would let me try to guess again.

The Final Guess:

I tried to stop thinking about bitcoin, but I couldn’t help myself. To make matters worse, its price had been climbing steeply over the summer with no end in sight. That July, the eccentric software entrepreneur John McAfee tweeted that a single bitcoin would be worth more than $500,000 in three years—“if not, I will eat my dick on national television,” he said, with typical understatement. I didn’t actually believe the price would rise that spectacularly (or that McAfee would carry out his pledge), but it fueled my anxiety.

I couldn’t escape the fact that the only thing keeping me from a small fortune was a simple number, one that I used to recall without effort and was now hidden in my brain, impervious to hypnotism, meditation, and self-scolding. I felt helpless. My daughters’ efforts to sneak up on me and say, “Quick, what’s the bitcoin password?” didn’t work. Some nights, before I went to sleep, I’d lie in bed and ask my brain to search itself for the PIN. I’d wake up with nothing. Every possible PIN I could imagine sounded no better or worse than any other. The bitcoin was growing in value, and it was getting further away from me. I imagined it as a treasure chest on a TRON-like grid, receding from view toward a dimly glowing horizon. I would die without ever finding it out.

Culled from wired. 

via Blogger http://ift.tt/2ilp5ES

[courtneyvbrooks87]

‘I Forgot My PIN’: An Epic Tale of Losing $30,000 in Bitcoin

‘I Forgot My PIN’: An Epic Tale of Losing $30,000 in Bitcoin

The Trezor: January 4, 2016: 7.4 BTC = $3,000

In January 2016, I spent $3,000 to buy 7.4 bitcoins. At the time, it seemed an entirely worthwhile thing to do. I had recently started working as a research director at the Institute for the Future’s Blockchain Futures Lab, and I wanted firsthand experience with bitcoin, a cryptocurrency that uses a blockchain to record transactions on its network. I had no way of knowing that this transaction would lead to a white-knuckle scramble to avoid losing a small fortune.

My experiments with bitcoin were fascinating. It was surprisingly easy to buy stuff with the cryptocurrency. I used the airBitz app to buy Starbucks credit. I used Purse.io to buy a wireless security camera doorbell from Amazon. I used bitcoin at Meltdown Comics in Los Angeles to buy graphic novels.

By November, bitcoin’s value had nearly doubled since January and was continuing to increase almost daily. My cryptocurrency stash was starting to turn into some real money. I’d been keeping my bitcoin keys on a web-based wallet, but I wanted to move them to a more secure place. Many online bitcoin services retain their customers’ private bitcoin keys, which means the accounts are vulnerable to hackers and fraudsters (remember the time Mt. Gox lost 850,000 bitcoins from its customers’ accounts in 2014?) or governments (like the time BTC-e, a Russian bitcoin exchange, had its domain seized by US District Court for New Jersey in August, freezing the assets of its users).

I interviewed a handful of bitcoin experts, and they all told me that that safest way to protect your cache was to use something called a “hardware wallet.” This little device is basically a glorified USB memory stick that stores your private bitcoin keys and allows you to authorize transactions without exposing those keys to the internet, where they could be seized by bad actors. I settled on a hardware wallet called the Trezor (the Czech word for “safe”), described by the manufacturer as “bulletproof.” I bought one on November 22 for $100 on Amazon (again, via Purse.io).

When the Trezor arrived, I plugged it into my computer and went to the Trezor website to set it up. The gadget’s little monochrome screen (the size of my two thumbnails, side by side) came to life, displaying a padlock icon. The website instructed me to write down 24 words, randomly generated by the Trezor one word at a time. The words were like “aware,” “move,” “fashion,” and “bitter.” I wrote them on a piece of orange paper. Next, I was prompted to create a PIN. I wrote it down (choosing a couple of short number combinations I was familiar with and could easily recall) on the same piece of paper as the 24-word list.

The Trezor website explained that these 24 words were my recovery words and could be used to generate the master private key to my bitcoin. If I lost my Trezor or it stopped working, I could recover my bitcoin by entering those 24 words into a new Trezor or any one of the many other hardware and online wallets that use the same standard key-generation algorithm. It was important for me to keep the paper hidden and safe, because anyone could use it to steal my 7.4 bitcoins. I transferred my currency from my web-based wallet to my Trezor, tossing both the Trezor and the orange piece of paper into a desk drawer in my home office. My plan was to buy a length of flat aluminum stock and letterpunch the 24 words onto it, then store it somewhere safe. I was going to do it right after the holidays.

The Mistake: March 16, 2017: 7.4 BTC = $8,799

It was 6:30 in the morning. My 14-year-old daughter, Jane, was in London on a school trip, and my older daughter, Sarina, was at college in Colorado. My wife Carla and I were getting ready to leave for the airport to take a vacation in Tokyo. As I was rummaging through my desk drawer for a phone charger, I saw the orange piece of paper with the recovery words and PIN. What should I do with this? If our plane plowed into the ocean, I’d want my daughters to be able to get the bitcoins. The coins had already nearly tripled in value since I bought them, and I could imagine them being worth $50,000 one day. I took a pen and wrote on the paper:

Jane, if anything happens, show this paper to Cory. He’ll know what to do with it. Love, Dad

(“Cory” is Cory Doctorow, my friend and business partner at my website, Boing Boing. He’s not a bitcoin enthusiast, but I knew he’d be able to figure out how to retrieve the master private key from the word list.)

I took the paper into Jane’s bedroom, stuck it under her pillow, and we took a Lyft to LAX.

The Garbage: April 4, 2017: 7.4 BTC = $8,384

We returned from Tokyo on March 24, and I didn’t even think about the orange piece of paper until April 4, when I remembered that I’d put it under Jane’s pillow. That’s funny, I thought. She’s been home more than a week and never said anything to me about it.

I went into her room and looked under her pillow. It wasn’t there. I looked under her bed, dragging out the storage boxes to get a better view, using my phone as a flashlight.

“Carla?” I asked. “Did you see that orange piece of paper with my bitcoin password on it? I can’t find it in Jane’s room.”

“Maybe Jane put it in her desk,” she said. Jane was in school, but I texted and asked her. She said she never saw an orange piece of paper.

“Wait,” Carla said. “We had the house cleaned while we were gone. I’ll call them.”

Carla called the cleaning service we’d used and got the woman who cleaned the house on the line. She told Carla that she did indeed remember finding the orange piece of paper.

“Where is it?” Carla asked.

“I threw it away.”

I knew the garbage had already been collected, but I put on a pair of nitrile gloves and went through the outside trash and recycling bins anyway. Nothing but egg cartons, espresso grinds, and Amazon boxes. The orange piece of paper was decomposing somewhere under a pile of garbage in a Los Angeles landfill.

Carla asked if losing the paper was a big deal.

“Not really,” I said. “It’s just a hassle, that’s all. I’ll have to send all the bitcoins from the Trezor to an online wallet, reinitialize the Trezor, generate a new word list, and put the bitcoins back on the Trezor. It would only be bad if I couldn’t remember my PIN, but I know it. It’s 551445.”

The Forgetting: April 4, 2017: 7.4 BTC = $8,384

I plugged the Trezor into my laptop and entered 551445.

Wrong PIN entered.

I must have made an error entering the PIN, I thought. I tried 551445 again, taking care to enter the digits correctly this time.

Wrong PIN entered.

Uh oh. I tried a slight variation: 554445

Wrong PIN entered.

This is ridiculous, I thought. I knew the PIN. I’d entered it at least a dozen times in recent months without having to refer to the paper. OK, it’s probably 554145.

Wrong PIN entered.

I looked at the tiny monochrome display on the bitcoin wallet and noticed that a countdown timer had appeared. It was making me wait a few seconds before I could try another PIN. My heart fluttered. I went to the hardware wallet manufacturer’s website to learn about the PIN delay and read the bad news: The delay doubled every time a wrong PIN was entered. The site said, “The number of PIN entry failures is stored in the Trezor’s memory. This means that power cycling the Trezor won’t magically make the wait time go to zero again. The best you can do by turning the Trezor on and off again is make the timer start over again. The thief would have to sit his life off entering the PINs. Meanwhile, you have enough time to move your funds into a new device or wallet from the paper backup.” (Trezor is based in Prague, hence the stilted English.)

The problem was, I was the thief, trying to steal my own bitcoins back from my Trezor. I felt queasy. After my sixth incorrect PIN attempt, creeping dread had escalated to heart-pounding panic—I might have kissed my 7.4 bitcoins goodbye.

I made a few more guesses, and each time I failed, my sense of unreality grew in proportion to the PIN delay, which was now 2,048 seconds, or about 34 minutes. I opened my desktop calculator and quickly figured that I’d be dead before my 31st guess (34 years). One hundred guesses would take more than 80 sextillion years.

I broke the news to Carla. I told her I couldn’t remember the PIN and that I was being punished each time I entered an incorrect PIN. She asked me if I’d saved the PIN in my 1Password application (a secure password app). I told her I hadn’t. When she asked me why, I didn’t have an answer.

I knew it would be a mistake to waste a precious guess in my agitated condition. My mind had become polluted with scrambled permutations of PINs. I went into the kitchen to chop vegetables for a curry we were making for dinner. But I couldn’t think of much else besides the PIN. As I cut potatoes into cubes, I mentally shuffled around numbers like they were Scrabble tiles on a rack. After a while, a number popped into my head: 55144545. That was it! I walked from the kitchen to the office. The Trezor still had a few hundred seconds left on the countdown timer. I did email until it was ready for my attempt. I tapped in 55144545.

Wrong PIN entered. Please wait 4,096 seconds to continue…

I barely slept that night. The little shuteye I managed to get was filled with nightmares involving combinations of the numbers 1, 4, and 5. It wasn’t so much the $8,000 that bothered me—it was the shame I felt for being stupid enough to lose the paper and forget the PIN. I also hated the idea that the bitcoins could increase in value and I wouldn’t have access to them. If I wasn’t able to recall the PIN, the Trezor would taunt me for the rest of my life.

The Search: April 5, 2017: 7.4 BTC = $8,325

That morning, bleary eyed, I started looking into ways to get my bitcoins back that didn’t involve recalling my PIN or recovery words. If I’d lost my debit card PIN, I could contact my bank and I’d eventually regain access to my funds. Bitcoin is different. No one owns the bitcoin transaction network. Instead, thousands of computers around the world run software that validates the system’s transactions. Anyone is allowed to install the bitcoin software on their computer and participate. This decentralized nature of the bitcoin network is not without consequences—the main one being that if you screw up, it’s your own damn problem.

I went to /r/TREZOR/ on Reddit and posted:

Feel free to ridicule me—I deserve it. I wrote my PIN code and recovery seed on the same piece of paper. I was planning to etch the seed on a metal bar and hide it, but before that happened my housecleaning service threw the paper away. Now I can’t remember my password and I have tried to guess it about 13 times. I now have to wait over an hour to make another guess. Very soon it will be years between guesses. Is there anything I can do or should I kiss my 7.5 bitcoins away?

Most of the replies were sympathetic and unhelpful. One person said I should get in touch with Wallet Recovery Services, which performs brute-force decryption on encrypted Bitcoin wallets. I emailed them and asked for help. “Dave Bitcoin” replied the next day:

I would like to help you … but I do not see any solution to your problem. You need to either guess your PIN correctly, or find your seed.

A response on the Reddit forum from a user with the handle zero404cool was intriguing:

…all your information is still stored inside Trezor and there are people who know how to get all the information that is needed to get your wallet working again. I have seen it.

He added in another post:

Just keep your Trezor safe. Don’t do anything with it. There is no need to try different PIN codes. You can regain possession of all your bitcoins.

The other users on the subreddit thought zero404cool wasn’t on the level. One said he might be a scammer; another accused him of spreading “FUD” (fear, uncertainty, and doubt) about Trezor’s security. I was inclined to agree with them, especially after reading about the lengths Trezor had gone to to make its device impenetrable to hackers. The manufacturer claimed with confidence that the Trezor could withstand any attempt to compromise it. The most obvious way to crack it, by installing unofficial firmware designed to unlock the PIN and keywords, would only have the effect of wiping the Trezor’s storage, the website said.

To confirm, I emailed Trezor and explained my predicament. A customer service representative emailed me back with a link to its “emergency situations guide,” none of which applied to my emergency situation. She wrote:

In all these situations there is either a PIN code or recovery seed needed to get an access to your funds. Unfortunately, without knowledge of at least one of these, no one is able to get access to this particular account with the funds stored on it. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mark?

The situation was starting to feel hopeless. In the meantime, zero404cool sent me a direct message on Reddit offering to help:

Yes, I can help you if you are willing to accept my help. Obviously, you are not going to find these instructions anywhere online. And it requires certain technical skills to complete them properly. A professional can extract all information just in 10 seconds. But this is not public knowledge, it’s never going to be.

The problem is that I don’t know you. I don’t know if your story is real or not. I don’t even know if you are a real person who really owns a Trezor. For example, You could as easily ask this to hack into someone else’s device. I can’t allow that.

So, for this to work we have to gain each other’s trust I guess.

I wrote back and told zero404cool to Google my name, to help him decide if he could trust me. He’d see that I was one of the first editors of Wired, coming on board in 1993. I founded the popular Boing Boing website, which has 5 million monthly unique readers. I was the founding editor-in-chief of the technology project magazine, Make. A while later, zero404cool replied:

Hi Mark, It seems that you are not afraid of soldering and command line programs. I guess we can proceed with this recovery as DIY project then? I am somewhat busy at the moment; I hope that you are not in too much hurry to complete it?

I replied that I wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t hear from him after that.

The Hypnotist: May 25, 2017: 7.4 BTC = $12,861

“The hypnosis allows us to open all channels, all information,” Michele Guzy said. I was in a reclining chair in her Encino office, covered in a blanket, concentrating on her soothing patter. My wife, a journalist and editor, had interviewed Michele a few years ago for an article about hypnotism in movies, and I was so desperate to recall my PIN that I made an appointment with her.

Earlier in the session, Michele had me reenact the experience of writing my PIN on an orange piece of paper. She put the paper in her desk drawer and had me sit down and open the drawer and look at the paper. She explained that we were trying different techniques to trigger the memory of the PIN.

The exercises didn’t cause anything to surface to my conscious mind, but Michele told me that we were just priming my subconscious for the upcoming hypnosis portion of my appointment. She dimmed the lights and spoke in a pleasantly whispery singsong patter. She asked me to imagine going down a long, long escalator, telling me that I would fall deeper and deeper into a trance as she spoke. The ride took at least 15 minutes. I felt relaxed—but I didn’t feel hypnotized. I figured I should just go with it, because maybe it would work anyway.

After nearly four hours in her office, I decided the PIN was 5514455.

It took me a few days to build up the nerve to try it. Every time I thought about the Trezor my blood would pound in my head, and I’d break into a sweat. When I tried the number, the Trezor told me it was wrong. I would have to wait 16,384 seconds, or about four and a half hours, until the device would let me try to guess again.

The Final Guess: August 12, 2017: 7.4 BTC = $28,749

I tried to stop thinking about bitcoin, but I couldn’t help myself. To make matters worse, its price had been climbing steeply over the summer with no end in sight. That July, the eccentric software entrepreneur John McAfee tweeted that a single bitcoin would be worth more than $500,000 in three years—“if not, I will eat my dick on national television,” he said, with typical understatement. I didn’t actually believe the price would rise that spectacularly (or that McAfee would carry out his pledge), but it fueled my anxiety.

I couldn’t escape the fact that the only thing keeping me from a small fortune was a simple number, one that I used to recall without effort and was now hidden in my brain, impervious to hypnotism, meditation, and self-scolding. I felt helpless. My daughters’ efforts to sneak up on me and say, “Quick, what’s the bitcoin password?” didn’t work. Some nights, before I went to sleep, I’d lie in bed and ask my brain to search itself for the PIN. I’d wake up with nothing. Every possible PIN I could imagine sounded no better or worse than any other. The bitcoin was growing in value, and it was getting further away from me. I imagined it as a treasure chest on a TRON-like grid, receding from view toward a dimly glowing horizon. I would die without ever finding it out.

Carla and I were folding laundry in the evening when Sarina came in. She was home from college for the summer. “I know what the bitcoin password is!” she said. “It’s 55445!”

“Why do you think that?” I asked.

“Well, you sometimes use 5054 as your password, but since the Trezor doesn’t have a zero, you would have just skipped it and put nothing there. You wouldn’t have made it 5154, you would have just used 554, and added 45 to it.” (I sometimes append my passwords with 45 because the number has a meaning to me.)

Carla looked at me and said, “Your eyes have a spark. Maybe it is the number.” I thought she might be right.

Sarina said, “If it isn’t 55445, then it’s 554455, because sometimes you add 455 at the end of your passwords.”

“That could be it,” I said. “I’ll think about it overnight and if I like it, I’ll try it tomorrow.”

In the morning, I decided that I’d try the numbers. I felt better about them than any other numbers I could think of. I plugged the Trezor in. I had to wait 16,384 seconds, or about four and a half hours, before I could enter the PIN. It was a Sunday, so I did things around the house and ran a couple of errands.

Once the Trezor was ready, I asked Carla, Sarina, and Jane to gather around my computer with me. I wanted them for moral support, to make sure I entered the PIN correctly, and to share in the celebration with me if the PIN happened to be right.

I sat in the chair while Jane, Sarina, and Carla stood around me. My heart was racing so hard that I could hear my head throb. I tried to keep my breathing under control. I entered the PIN slowly. Each time I entered a digit, I waited for one of my family members to confirm that I got it right. After entering 55445, I hovered the mouse cursor over the Enter button on the Trezor website. “Ready?” I asked. They all said OK. I clicked it.

Wrong PIN entered. Please wait 32,768 seconds to continue…

“Ah, shit,” I said.

“That’s OK, Daddy,” Sarina said. “When can we try 554455?”

I opened my calculator.

“Nine hours.”

Carla put her hand on my shoulder. “If it doesn’t work after a few more guesses, you should just break it,” she said. That seemed like the right thing to do. It would soon get to the point where I would have to keep the Trezor plugged into a powered-on computer for months (the countdown starts all over again if you unplug it), and then years and decades. The house we live in has lost power from a tripped circuit breaker, rain, or DWP maintenance at least once a year since we moved in 10 years ago. I could buy an uninterrupted power supply to keep the Trezor juiced during its years-long countdown, but I wanted this to be over, and killing the Trezor would end it.

The next morning before breakfast, I went into the office by myself and tried 554455.

Wrong PIN entered. Please wait 65,536 seconds to continue…

The Email: August 16, 2017: 7.4 BTC = $32,390

Awareness of my forgotten PIN had become something like tinnitus—always in the background, hard to ignore, annoying. What was wrong with my brain? Would I have remembered the PIN if I was in my 20s or 30s? I was feeling sorry for myself when I saw an email from Satoshi Labs, manufacturer of the Trezor, arrive in my inbox.

The subject line read, “TREZOR Firmware Security Update 1.5.2.”

The email said that the update was meant to fix “a security issue which affects all devices with firmware versions lower than 1.5.2.” It went on to say:

In order to exploit this issue, an attacker would have to break into the device, destroying the case in the process. They would also need to flash the device with a specially crafted firmware. If your device is intact, your seed is safe, and you should update your firmware to 1.5.2 as soon as possible. With firmware 1.5.2, this attack vector is eliminated and your device is safe.

Could there be a vulnerability in Trezor’s bulletproof security, one that I could take advantage of? I went to r/TREZOR to see what people were saying about it. The first thing I found was a link to a Medium post by someone who said they knew how to hack the Trezor using the exploit mentioned in the email. The post was titled “Trezor — security glitches reveal your private keys!”

The author included photos of a disassembled Trezor and a screengrab of a file dump that had 24 key words and a PIN. The author also included a link to custom Trezor firmware but no instructions on how to use it. I read the article a couple of times before I looked at the author’s name: Doshay Zero404Cool. It was the same person I’d corresponded with on Reddit five months earlier! I went to look at my old private messages with zero404cool and discovered..

http://ift.tt/2gLntnx