#because my man might have been sad it’s worth noting that he wasn’t… blind

[crookedfivefingers]

“Impossibly thick, I was.”

Doctor Who . Titan Comics

The Thirteenth Doctor | Read: 201/204

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[mysterytickingnoise]

Someday

Pairing: Merlin x Reader

Genre: Bittersweet Angst

Word Count: 2,058

Summary: After getting caught and accused of doing witchcraft, and failing to prove your innocence to Uther, you have to take desperate measures to flea the kingdom. Unfortunately your escape plan works a little too well, and without your knowledge the people close to you end up mourning you.

Request from @joyismycenter : "If you’re asking, I’d love some bbc Merlin x reader where he though the reader was dead but she/they turn out not to be. Love me that happy angst"

Authors Note: Thank you so much for sending in the first request for this blog! Fair warning I'm doing all my writing on my phone at the moment and I couldn't really get the ending to flow how I wanted it to so it's not perfect, but I really hope everyone likes it!

[Image Description: A gif of Merlin (from the BBC Show Merlin played by Colin Morgan) looking over his shoulder. End description]

It was such a silly mistake.

You trusted someone too soon, tried to help them.

Next thing you knew you were being accused of witchcraft. It was true but considering your accuser had no real evidence you thought perhaps you could argue your way out of it. You called them crazy, demanded proof, spouted off any alternative explanation for what had happened to no avail. Uther didn't give a damn about proof, the moment the word magic was held against you it was up to you to prove you hadn't used it.

Even if you hadn't, how do you prove a thing like that?

Pleading your case was useless, and the one person who could help you had left with Arthur and the knights before any of this had begun. Even if they somehow showed up before the execution, you wouldn't want Merlin's help.

He couldn't be caught helping you, not with his destiny. You weren't worth the risk, though he certainly would've argued otherwise if he'd had the chance.

No, you only had one choice left in your small cell. You would have to find an opportunity to use something that you saved for a situation such as this. When an old friend came to visit, to say goodbye, that was your opportunity.

You asked them to come back with the blue vial tucked in the back of your armoire. "It's a poison," You had told them. "I don't want to give Uther the satisfaction."

Tearfully, they obliged. In the middle of the night you chugged it down, and not one hour later your 'body' was wrapped in a sheet and wheeled out of the dungeons 'To be buried in the morning.' But the enchantment on the potion wore off before then, and you woke up alone and free.

You crept out of Camelot at the break of dawn with nothing but the clothes on your back, making it to the treeline before your will broke down and you turned back to look at the old castle peeking out over the tall walls.

Your home was behind those walls, your friends lived there, and the man you had surely fallen for. Tears stung your eyes as you thought about him, the fact you never got to say goodbye, how long it would be until you would see him again.

You could risk waiting for him to return, but if someone outside of Arthur's party were to catch you...you would be forced to do something you'd regret. You'd have to cross the line of no return and goodbye at that point would surely be permanent.

'Someday,' You thought, 'Until then, he'll understand, he might even come find me.'

Little did you know the guard who discovered the empty cloth had no intention of telling the king that the body of a prisoner had gone missing on his watch. No, he had a family to tend to, he wasn't losing his position because of some witch. It didn't even cross his mind that you might not be dead.

There was an empty grave in the pauper's field the next morning, and any questions on your whereabouts were contained in the mind of one underpaid guardsman for two years.

Meanwhile, Merlin had been devastated when he heard the news, even confused. Gaius told him the whole story, what he knew of it anyway, but he could never wrap his mind around it. It didn't make sense. He had spoken to you only a few days before, you smiled and hugged him and told him to come home safe. And just like that you were gone? The irrational fear of someone you tried to help, and the blind tyranny of Uther, that's all it took and now nobody would ever see that smile again. No, it didn't make any sense at all.

He eventually did what he had to do, put on a brave face and got back to work. And yes, a while after that night things got somewhat close to normal again. But there were always moments where he'd think to himself that he'd have to tell you about his day or a joke he heard, and then he'd remember. In other moments, he'd see Uther laughing at dinner or be forced to hear one of his speeches and his jaw would clench just a little tighter than it had before. And when he found himself awake in the middle of the night, when the world was dead silent and the only light in his room came from the moon, it was because he had found himself caught up in the memories you had together.

You had those nights too.

You had been dead on your feet by the time you stumbled into the small, reclusive village you'd learn to call your home. You'd been told that nobody really ever passed through on purpose, and they liked it that way. You told them that you could use a life like that, and then asked if they had need a physician. They did.

Sure, a reclusive person probably would've loved the little life you built for yourself. You had a small but cozy spot to live on the edge of the village, not long after you showed up you began to tend to minor wounds and ailments, making a few friends along the way. Occasionally two farmers would ride into the city to barter off crops for supplies and other things, eventually they began to bring you back a book or a small trinket each time to thank you for your work. It was nice.

But still loneliness tugged at your heart, more than you imagined it would when you took that last look at your home. On the most random days, doing the most random things, you'd find yourself thinking about everyone again and crying for up to an hour before you could pull yourself together again. Those moments became more rare over time, but they never hurt any less. You were never quite back to normal.

Finally, you were wrapping a farmers broken finger, speaking about the state of the kingdom and how you were surprised Uther had felt the need to improve anything it all, when you heard the news.

"Oh, no. The king died months ago, Arthur's in charge now."

You knew you must've gone pale, as the next thing the man said to you was a question of your health. You were quick to respond with a growing smile, "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

He shrugged at you, "I'm not all that concerned with politics. These men, they're all the same to us out here, you know?"

But you knew the difference.

Your life depended on it.

You finished his treatment and sent him away without much else to say on the matter. You had to pack, after all. Later on that day you pleaded with a neighbor to let you borrow her horse, and your friends gathered around as they overheard you say you needed to go to the capitol. You honestly felt a bit bad leaving in such a rush, but after you relayed a safe version of your story, why you came here and why you had to leave, they all seemed to understand.

With many promises from you that they could send for you if they ever needed to, and many words of encouragement from them, you took off. Even when you stopped in the night to allow the horse some rest, you never got any yourself, too excited and nervous and overwhelmed all at once. You spent hours contemplating what to say to everyone, but nothing seemed right.

Another days journey, and you were home.

The response you got to your return wasn't what you expected. Your first stop was to check on the friend who got the potion to you in the first place, and strangely they let out a short shriek before slamming the door in your face. You knocked again, speaking through the door. "It's me...I'm back?"

"Go away!"

You furrowed your brow at them, hurt and confused. But ultimately you walked away, thinking a reaction like that might be deserved considering what you must've put them through that night. As you continued down the street there were a few people who recognized you and proceeded to clear out of your way with gasps and whispers, pulling along anyone they were walking with.

Last time you were here you had been accused of witchcraft, and two decades of fear don't just disappear with a new king, so you simply accepted that as the reasoning and started to make your way up through the lower towns.

On the other end of the city, Merlin had just reached the end of an extremely long day. It had dragged on so long that it felt as though the walk from the armoury to his room took another hour. He didn't even bother to get something to eat, he just wanted to sleep. So naturally when he had just layed down in bed when someone decided to knock on the front door, he didn't know any better than to be annoyed.

At first he thought Gaius would take care of it, then he remembered that he wasn't home.

Maybe they'll just go away.

Whoever it was knocked again and he pulled the pillow over his head.

Please go away.

The front door creaked open and he heard a familiar voice call out. "Hello...Gaius? Merlin?"

He sat up, a heavy feeling settling into his gut as he realized where he had heard that voice before.

But...it couldn't be. Could it?

He shook his head, leaving his bedroom to shoo out the person who couldn't have been you.

But there you were, flipping through an old book that had been sitting on the table since the day before. When you noticed he was standing there you looked up with a sad smile, saying the only thing that you could think of; "Hi..."

"Hi?"

"I uh- I know it's been a long time," You started, crossing your arms over your chest in an awkward stance. "I wish I didn't have to leave like I did but..."

"Leave??" He repeated what you said once more. Finally you registered how strangely he was looking at you, not angry or upset but bewildered, and maybe even scared. What he said next confused you even more. "How are you alive?"

"I thought you might've had more faith in me than that." You joked, but he wasn't amused. "Am I missing something?"

He was hesitant to approach you, unsure of how he was supposed to say it but he tried. "They told me you were gone, that you'd poisoned yourself. I mean...Gaius saw you."

"It was meant to look like that, but it was a trick." You said. "I left when I awoke, they didn't tell people I escaped?"

He shook his head no, tears starting to stream down his face. "...I can't believe this."

As the reality of the situation hit you, you couldn't help but cry as well. All you were guilty about, what you thought you put your loved ones through, it had actually been so much worse. "I am so sorry, if I had any idea I would've- well I don't know what I would've done. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just, I'm so happy that you're here, and you're okay." Striding over with a grin, he pulled you into his arms. "I've missed you."

"And I, you. More than I could ever put into words." With a laugh you continued. "Things got so boring without you."

"I'm sure they did, you won't believe some of things I have to tell you."

And that was all it took, you both sat down at a table as you filled each other in on everything that had happened in the last two years. It took hours, there were multiple times you had to stop and collect yourselves as certain stories had you laughing until your stomachs ached. Gaius came home and after another tearful welcome back he made you all something to eat and had plenty of his own twists on things that had happened.

As if no time had passed at all, the world felt normal again. You were back where you belonged.

You were home.

[peeterparkr]

red; tom’s version|two.

chapter two: the lucky one. “You don’t feel pretty, you feel used”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship a month after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: bottle caps, a red scarf and two coincidences that probably mean something warnings: angsty a bit, cussing, word count: 6.7k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

Present day. One month after the breakup.

Tom knew he had to stay quiet. Or rather, there was barely anything he could say while he was plotting his next words. He could barely believe he had a chance.

Walking down the streets with her quietly as he saw her, arranging her own thoughts. She had agreed to listen.

And he knew it was because whatever they’d felt, it made it worth it.

Y/N was angry. Not sad, angry. He had expected her to be crying. He didn’t want to be the reason why she would and he tried thinking he wasn’t. Though, deep inside, he was perfectly aware that he would be blamed for the tears that she’d shed in the last few months.

He wasn’t proud of that.

Guilt blinds. And Tom was blind in an attempt to shield. It was easier to shield on his own excuses that would serve barely as a plea to forgiveness.

Glares were directed at him. Her jaw was clenched and she had crossed her arms. The moment she’d realized what she’d agreed to, she’d turned stiff.

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom had tried asking.

“I don’t wish to speak to you.”

Fair.

And it was the middle of the night once again, how many times had they not walked under the stars with barely a destiny to reach. And now he was walking to his doom.

Y/N was mental.

In a good way. But the girl had taught him how insane you can be when it comes to relationships. In the best way possible, not as an insult.

Tom knew that he had fucked up. And he had been in New York for a while, though he hadn’t spoken to her directly, knowing that approaching her would only wound her.

It was colder now, Christmas was barely around the corner. In any other circumstance, it would’ve added to the romance.

Here it was just a bad omen of whatever would come next. The lights flickered as soon as they were walking past them.

“Are—are we not going to talk?” Tom questioned anyway. “I thought—“

Y/N shrugged. “I’m still deciding it, you see, I don’t know if I want to listen to you break my heart in an attempt of forged honesty.”

Tom dug his hands in his pockets. “I genuinely want to apologize.”

“And I genuinely don’t like you,” she snapped. “You see my problem?”

Tom sighed. “Fine,” he gulped. “But you are cold, that thing isn’t covering your neck or chest.”

Y/N had gone for a rather inadequate option for a cold winter day. Though Tom would agree that the black dress had been yet another punch to his stomach, all of course with an attempt to make him regret it, it was still rather unsuitable for the freezing city. But she looked stunning.

Her coat barely covered her, and her crossed arms were probably more of an attempt to warm herself and it served as a clear exposition of her anger.

She didn’t answer, however.

“You could wear this,” Tom offered, showing her the red scarf that once belonged to her. Tom liked to think that it now belonged to them.

The red scarf that had become a token to their relationship. From the very first day.

Y/N looked at it, and reluctantly took it. “It’s only because I’m cold.”

But Tom wanted to think it wasn’t only because of that. Wearing the scarf meant she was opening a door for him.

Seeing her again had been quite different from what Tom had expected, her hair was different and her makeup too. Her gaze seemed lost.

Whoever was standing beside him didn’t seem like her. She was a stranger, a very familiar one. But there wasn’t that visible spark that he’d fallen for. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love the figure in front of him but he feared he was the reason for its disappearance.

“It smells like you,” y/n whispered as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.

Tom smiled, briefly. “I’ve been wearing it. Your own smell wore out,” he regretted saying that. “That sounded way too creepy or cheesy.”

“Both, somehow,” she agreed. “Don’t ever say that kind of shit again.”

Tom gulped a chuckle, “noted.”

There was still that y/n in there, the one that liked the kind of cheesy things that he could say. The ones that came up at the right moment. Though, there was still that y/n that didn’t take any bullshit.

Tom hadn’t gone exactly through diamonds and sparkles after the breakup. And the city was now quite different from when it had first received him. Now covered with dark smoke and trash, with only skeletons of trees.

Guilt drowns. And Tom was, undoubtedly, drowning in a drought. Everything had dried off yet he felt like he could barely breathe.

Knowing you’re the reason for someone’s hurt is no fantasy.

And he was broken, too. Very, very broken. However, he knew he was seen as the bad guy here and he wouldn’t call himself less, and he wouldn’t admit he was aching too.

So he was trying to ignore it.

Her apartment building hadn’t changed. Not that Tom had expected it to, but it was nice to come to a familiar place. He noticed the stairs were still rusty and unclean and creaked as he walked in. New creaks had come in that he hadn’t memorized yet. He hoped he would have the chance to.

Y/N stopped at her door, with more questions than answers to give him.

“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to him. “But I know that if I don’t give you a chance to explain yourself I’ll never forgive myself.”

“That’s fair. But…I’ll do whatever you want me to, but please let me explain it to you,” he begged. “I—If you want me to leave New York and never come again I’ll understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a red door that would open to memories he couldn’t quite forget.

“I already said I would listen,” she recalled. “But—“ her eyes met his, they looked tired. “I am having an inner monologue on why this is stupid.”

“Care to share?”

She took a heavy breath, “Well, you see, Tom, if that even is your real name…”

“Really? You’re—“Tom tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, my name is Tom.”

“Tom….”

“Holland.”

“Hm, interesting. Holland, I remembered it being something else. You’re a liar, just making sure,” she said. “I’m—I just feel stupid. Because I shouldn’t be feeling this way for such a short relationship, is that even—was it? Can we even call it that?”

Her words felt bitter to Tom’s own tongue. He understood why she was defensive. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, maybe we confused whatever we were feeling with love, or—“

“I didn’t—“

“Could be easy, Tommy, you’re an actor, actors, as far as I know, act, and man did you play such an amazing role,” she snarled as she opened her door, leading the way. “Be quiet, by the way, I don’t want to wake up Lula or Jules.”

Tom walked in into what seemed a messed snapshot of how he remembered the place. It was the same, in essence. But sadder. The apartment still had a few sweaters here and there, and y/N’s notebooks all over it.

He could see Lula’s leftovers in their coffee table and some candy wraps that Julia had probably been eating while reading her book.

He turned to that one corner and saw it, the jukebox that had been what had defined y/n’s and his relationship. He dug his hand into his pocket to search for the locket y/n had given back. Tom squeezed it as he searched in his pocket for something else.

Guilt kills. And Tom was dying.

“Here,” Tom said as he reached out for three beer caps in his pocket, “I brought these to you,” he offered them to her, knowing there were jars full of them.

Y/N collected them. Or rather, it was her latest collection that she’d later use for her art. Or whatever she was into at the moment.

The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms which they all shared. They’d rotate whoever had the luck to have the single room. So small. And yet it felt so big.

Y/n pursed her lips but then took the beer caps and placed them on the counter.

“We’re going to the roof,” y/n said. “I’m just getting us some wine—No,” she shook her head, probably realizing that having wine would make the moment a tad more romantic or cuddly than she expected it to be. “Make yourself useful and make some tea, I’ll go change myself, I’m freezing.”

She’d brought blankets and a hoodie he hadn’t remembered he had left. They didn’t have to go to the roof, Julia was staying with Matt and Lula was not back yet from wherever she was.

She had stayed quiet, for a bit. Cuddled up in the same couch where they—

“Do you like your tea?” Questioned Tom.

She looked up. “Yeah, you can add that to your many talents. Right before lying.”

“I make better tea than lies? Good to know.”

Y/N shrugged. “How long have you been here?”

“A… few days,” Tom admitted. “I have been trying to walk up to your door but I keep getting lost in the subway, and when I did come here I panicked and cried.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought I saw you, the other day,” she said.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you,” y/n confessed. “So I just yelled at a poor stranger. I—I genuinely feel sorry for him.”

Tom tried not to chuckle. “What did you yell?”

“I called him a bastard and asked what was wrong with him,” she scrunched her nose. “Not my proudest moment. I was kicked out of the bus.”

Tom gulped. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. “You can yell at me if that helps.”

She shrugged. “No, I think I’m good, I let it all out with him,” she grimaced. “But I might just—“she picked up a pillow and threw it at him with barely any energy.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “But I can be your punching bag, I deserve it,” he admired. “I see the jukebox,” Tom said, motioning to it.

She shrugged. “Yeah, would be stupid if you didn’t. It’s quite big. Barely any space left.”

Tom chuckled. “I meant—“

“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m trying to ignore it,” y/n admitted. “I notice it too, every day. Almost threw it away.”

Tom nodded. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s a very functional jukebox, the music on it,” she said. “It would be stupid to throw out something like that.”

Tom had expected a different answer, one rather more romantic. Like, that maybe throwing it out would’ve meant throwing him away.

“Right. I’m surprised the cops haven’t come for it.”

She smiled.

She… smiled?

She smiled.

Tom hadn’t thought he would see it again. So comforting. And genuine. Not forced.

“It’s not stolen,” she reminded him, “not really.”

Tom decided to smile back, but to himself. He couldn’t really look her in the eye.

“I guess I also kept it for the same reason why you kept that stupid scarf,” y/n added. Quieter now.

Tom took a deep breath. “It’s a fashionable accessory.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s been out of fashion for 10 years.”

“Trends come back.”

Y/N looked up. “Not when they're horrible, no,” she said with a heavy breath. “I don’t—“She shook her head. “No, we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tom questioned.

“Talk like you didn’t break my heart,” she snarked, gulping down her thoughts. “I always knew your heart never truly belonged to me, you know?” y/n said, holding to her mug. The tea was probably cold now. As so were they.

Tom was taken aback by that statement. “I—at the beginning—“

“No, it never truly did. Not completely.”

“I—“ but Tom didn’t have an answer to it.

The night was cold and New York was still awake. But it felt like it was them and only them even if they felt like oceans apart. He hated it. The first time he’d ever been truly lucky he had run out of luck.

Y/N watched him. “I always knew it was meant to be for a short time and I didn’t need anything more, I somehow knew that you’d hurt me,” she explained.

Tom had never meant to go this far. “I never meant—“

“Imagine if you had meant it though, how crushed would I have been. It wasn’t your intention, and yet I ended up crying on the floor,” she said, ironically

Tom couldn’t say more but an “I am so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said. “I hope you are.”

Tom stared at her, “I am.”

Y/N directed him a single glance. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This month has been the shittiest in my life.”

Tom didn’t have enough words to apologize. Or he had too many to say. Instead, he could word out anything.

“The worst part is that you also gave me the best fucking days of my life,” she continued. “So I’m at a crossroads here. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it was all bullshit and there’s also the part that knows it couldn’t be.”

Tom watched her. “It was not bullshit,” he said. “It was real.”

“That’s the worst part,” she pointed out. “I think, yeah, all of it being real then it makes it hurt even more because that means I lost the best thing to ever happen to me and you lost something so real.”

Tom nodded. “I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, too.”

Y/N was, without a doubt, the best thing he’d never looked for.

“Did you lose it because of me? Or did you lose me?” She quickly questioned, raising her brows.

Y/N was also a murderer.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, ignoring his sight as he was trying to know how to Answer. “You better start explaining yourself.”

“Before I—I… I… Right, well—Before I came here—I—Ella—“

She closed her eyes. “Actually, no.”

Tom paused, in fear.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we will….” Y/N tried arranging her thoughts. “Tell me from the moment you hopped on the plane.”

Tom stayed quiet.

“I need to know how it looked from the moment you arrived, not… before, although I’m risking the fact you’re an unreliable narrator.”

“I am a terrible narrator,” he admitted.

Two months before the breakup. Tom’s version.

Tom remembered how little it had taken him to make the decision to escape. He had decided to escape from what everyone told him he should love.

With a backpack, his passport and a half ass made suitcase, he had hopped on the first flight to New York. No regrets as it had taken off. Sweet Escape airlines had been so kind to him.

Not telling anyone about it. To their eyes, he probably was only late to a party, and they’d see him in a few minutes with an excuse of an apology.

Yet, he was on a plane. Escaping from the perfect life.

They always said how lucky he was. Didn’t they? How incredible it was to have what he had. Because he had everything.

And he was running away from it. He watched the people on the plane, his seat was unflattering, next to an old lady who seemed to be rather impolite.

He remembered when he had made the decision to run out, the night before, a camera flash had blinded him and time had suddenly stopped. Just a few hours before hopping on the plane. Everyone expected him to do something he was not ready for. Everyone thought it would come.

Even Eleanor.

Especially Eleanor. Ella was probably counting only the minutes for his arrival. He had promised her he would be there.

No one could ever judge Tom for the decision he had made. Well, everyone would. But Tom liked to believe they couldn’t. As a technicality, that is. That they had absolutely no right to do it.

His parents wouldn’t be proud of it. Too bad.

Tom was nervous, though. The decision had been, undoubtedly, rushed. He hadn’t shown up to that early brunch.

Still wearing a suit, with a white buttoned shirt unbuttoned on his neck. He had still almost gone to that brunch in that FancyAss restaurante.

A brunch? He thought to himself. How incredibly out of character it seemed, he had become a caricature of whatever they wanted him to be.

Did he have to apologize to Eleanor? He didn’t want to.

He really didn’t want to.

He looked at his phone, Harry was calling him. A few other texts from his mother, too. Two missed calls from Ella. Probably wondering why he was late. He hoped they didn’t wait for him, for he would never arrive.

New York was a bit far from it.

The whole flight had been him trying to figure out if it was a good choice.

But he was given an ultimatum, and when those come you have to decide.

His decision was to go to New York. And it was the best choice.

It was, of course, but it was alright to doubt it. It was not likely of him to simply run away.

He didn’t have it all figured out. And that’s why he was clutching his backpack. He was chasing a dream that he didn’t even know he had.

Maybe that’s why he was running away. He didn’t know who he was. But of course he had heard it, how he looked like a million bucks. And he had said it to everyone else the night before, how the stars looked like diamonds in the skies.

He was making a name for himself, he knew that. Or rather, they were making a name for him. And he didn’t know who he was.

The flight was rather short, or maybe Tom barely had any time to think about it.

Running away from his own country, from his family, friends and from Ella, whom he barely had a title for right now.

The city was quick to receive him with bustling crowds, people pushing and rushing. But also opening up as he was walking in. Dancing around him.

How magical. He thought to himself as he tried texting Harrison, hoping his best friend wouldn’t mind receiving him at his place.

Tom managed to get a taxi that was waiting right outside the airport.

He hopped in and grinned to himself proudly. He was there.

With a new city ahead of him and no one expecting anything from him. With no one telling him what to do, with no one giving him an ultimatum and no one with orders for him.

“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver, as he stared from the mirror.

Tom, though he was not proud of it, was having a moment. “I’m running away from my life,” Tom explained. “don’t you ever get tired of the role you’re supposed to play? Like you were not meant to play it but now you’re too stuck in it.”

“Man, I'm sorry, I ain’t got no time for that kind of poeticbullshit, I need an address.”

The moment ended quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’m an idiot… uh, it’s this one.” Tom had to look up for Haz’s address.

“Every time,” the driver sighed, chuckling. “Why do y’all think New York is some sort of magical city that will give you the answer to whatever you’re going through.”

Tom’s smile widened sarcastically, “Well, isn’t it?”

“Guess it is, in a way, but I’ll tell you something,” the driver stated, “whatever you think New York will give to you, it'll be the very opposite. It won’t be what you want but it might just be what you need.”

“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, “who’s the one with the poetic crap now?”

“No, I’m messing with you, damn all you tourists believe that kind of thing huh? New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of huh.”

“It’s what we’re sold,” Tom gave in.

“That sounds pretty, don’t it? To not get what you want but what you need.”

“It does.”

In a way, he was right. Tom would’ve thought he needed a break. To escape. That’s what he wanted right?

But what did he need?

The city welcomed him with a short rain, the water reflected the twinkling lights, as the shadows were reflecting the life he had left behind. The people rushed with their coats, as they were off to their lives. And it felt like he was finally breathing.

Although he would not share his thoughts with the driver again, Tom thought this was what he needed. A new start with no one that would judge him.

That’s probably why he’d chosen New York, the people are too busy living their own crazy lives to focus on someone so insignificant like him. He didn’t have to be whoever he was before, the pretty face, the cool guy everyone liked.

No, he was a guy in a stupid cab, and not to be worried if they said he hadn’t chosen a better ride, on a bigger car.

No, no announcement of whatever he was going to do on the papers because his dad had arranged it.

No, now he was but what he always wanted to be. One of those cautionary tales that they tell about people who go mad and escape and live.

He was a legend now.

Maybe they were right, he was lucky. He was lucky because he had finally made it out of there.

And he saw the lights, with Broadway shows waiting for him, with new adventures coming. With a new life that he wanted to create. The Broadway signs changed to Tom’s sight.

‘A very new life for the Lucky One.’ Starring Tom Holland.

A new beginning.

Maybe he was lucky. Though he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He constantly was, though.

Except, of course, for the fact that Haz hadn’t really answered his text the way he wanted to.

Haz probably didn’t believe Tom that he was in the city.

He would just knock at the door then.

“Well man, I hope whatever kind of role you want you get it,” the driver had said as Tom had hopped off.

Harrison’s building was far from fancy. Harrison had often described it as an ‘affordable pigsty’. Tom wouldn’t describe it as anything else.

But it was perfect. The perfect stage for his new charade.

Tom carried the now heavier backpack and suitcase up and was lucky enough that someone had entered the building so he could go up and show up uninvited to Haz’s apartment. If he could call it that.

He knocked, two times and Haz opened the door.

“Piss off, you’re not actually here!” Was the way Haz had decided to greet.

Tom laughed. “I fucking am.”

“You bastard,” Haz grinned before pulling his friend into a hug. “No way, I didn’t believe you. Man, I’m so glad to see you!”

“You too, man your place is…” Tom couldn’t finish.

“A pigsty but it’s home, I’ll make some place.”

And they had.

Haz had left a few years ago, with a dream in his head and a chance to make it. Or… a chance to get a chance to make it.

Leaving London had been quite such a simple decision for him. An inspiring actor that could’ve made it back at home but decided to leave for New York? It was stupid, honestly. Very anticlimactic of him.

But like Tom, Harrison had to escape before he was pulled in.

Just like Tom had been, tangled up. Tom’s ‘big break’ had yet to come but his family had managed to get him to the rising star he was.

He loved what he did, acting was definitely his true passion but not like this. Not buying his way into parts, not going out with someone so he could be considered. Hanging around with the right people just so they could get him a role.

Haz had gone for plays instead, and Tom knew he was fantastic. But he also had to get his big break. The industry had a funny way to say this.

“So, you just left?” Haz asked with a beer in his hand as he’d taken Tom to his favorite bar. Beers were cheaper there, and given that it was a Thursday, the happy hour lasted longer.

The bar was different from what Tom had expected. An old jukebox that was playing odd songs, colorful things. Very odd.

“I bloody just left,” Tom admitted. “What was I supposed to do?”

Harrison rubbed his face, “I dunno.”

“I couldn’t keep pretending,” Tom said, as he played with the bottle. “I—It wasn’t me.”

“But didn’t you just get cast in—something important?” He questioned.

Tom sighed, “Not for talent, no.”

He had seen a girl walk up to the jukebox and pay again to play “Twist and Shout” by The Beatles, she moved her head along to the song.

“Man, who bloody cares?” Haz rolled his eyes bringing the attention back to him. “You’re getting somewhere! You look pretty, you’re cool, and you’re getting somewhere.”

Tom knew where Haz was coming from. Things were going perfectly, one could argue. But it didn’t feel real. It was just a game of make believe where Tom had eventually been dug in.

“It wasn’t that,” Tom admitted. “Ella gave me an ultimatum.”

Harrison stopped, probably now understanding more why he had left. “And how do you feel about that?”

Tom stared at his beer. “Not how I’m supposed to.”

Harrison watched him. “One can only pretend for so long.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed as he undressed the beer bottle.

“Does anyone know you escaped?” Haz asked.

Tom grimaced, pulling out his phone, turned off. “No, well, Harry knows, I told him I had left but didn’t tell him where to,” he said before unwillingly turning it back on, to show the billion notifications popping up. Multiple text messages, missed calls. “I need a new phone so I can keep this one turned off.”

“I think you should tell someone, otherwise they’re going to call the police or something,” Haz suggested.

Tom sighed, “Before I do let me go get another round,” he said as he headed to the bar.

Though Tom should’ve known right then and there that his life would change, he was very oblivious as he saw a couple. The beautiful girl sitting right beside… some guy. The very same girl who had played ‘Twist and Shout’.

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tom could only interpret her stare as something unpleasant. The guy and her were both stiff.

Tom couldn’t blame the guy because he was often criticized for also being like him. Not being able to make the beautiful girl beside him smile. Not understanding her worth and brilliance as anyone else in the room did.

She had dressed up, it seemed, just for her very date and he was just… there. The guy was simply an unuseful accessory adorning her side. His eyes were glued to the TV on the bar, a program that seemed to be very uneventful.

Tom often liked overhearing conversations, and this time wasn’t an exception.

“I recently discovered my new collection,” the girl said. Tom noticed the scarf on her neck,“I will start collecting bottle caps.”

The guy looked over, “Is it going to be for your new project that you’ll never finish?”

“I will finish it,” she said as she took off the scarf, now playing with it, tying and untying it. “And I’m going to ask Ben here to save me as many as he can.”

“Y/N,” the guy said. Pretty name, thought Tom. Fitting. “You never finish them.”

“Art is never finished, William,” the girl, y/n, defended again. “It’s only… abandoned.”

“My point,” The guy, William, rolled her eyes, “You never get through with them.”

“I do,” she defended herself. “You just never pay attention to it.”

Tom watched her frustration. Even then the guy wasn’t really into the conversation. He didn’t blame him, really. But he was more on y/n’s side.

“I think you should pay attention to more important stuff. Instead of wasting your time doing whatever.”

“Art isn't whatever,” she sighed, and then frowned, noticing Tom was watching them.

“I’m not saying it’s whatever, y/n, but you’ve got to have other dreams rather than collecting beer caps.”

Y/N looked away, “It’s for a painting.”

“A painting you’ll get bored of eventually, it’s always the same, y/n,” the guy was still too busy with his own beer watching the TV.

Y/N clenched her jaw but then directed her glance at Tom, still intrigued by the conversation.

Tom cleared his throat as he finally got his beers, the guy opened them for him but Tom asked for the beer caps.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen,” Tom admitted before giving her the beer caps. “Good luck on your project.” The girl finally smiled as the guy accompanying her glared at him.

Tom shrugged and dedicated them both a smile before going back to Harrison. Had Tom been William he would’ve appreciated that someone made his girl smile, it was a waste not to share her smile with the world.

And Tom, out of everyone, understood what the girl had said, people bringing him down were always for him so to have genuine support from a stranger would help her. And him.

Yes never getting anything done but still having a passion for it was accomplishment enough.

“So what’s your plan?” Haz asked as soon as he was back. Tom watched the girl, still.

“I have none,” Tom admitted, watching as y/n and William were still arguing, probably now over the fact that Tom had left the beer caps. He didn’t feel guilty, even when both of them were pointing at him as the argument kept going. “I will just—Get a break for a few days. A well deserved vacation.”

Haz watched him. “Right.”

“You know, be a tourist,” Tom shrugged. “I—I dunno I just needed to get out,” Tom sipped from his bottle as his eyes were glued to the couple, now arguing loudly but not loud enough to be understood.

Haz followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Dunno, they’re odd,” Tom shrugged. But they weren’t really. He just saw his future, so uninterested to the girl beside him.

“Not really, you should get used to that,” Haz said. “But—You’re going to tell Harry, right!”

“Problem is,” Tom brought back the attention to Haz. “I don’t think Harry will be able to keep the secret.”

Harrison crossed his arms. “What are you really doing here Tom? You do realize that you’re hurting everyone—“

“Yeah, yeah fuck that, I know, I feel guilty. But—I can’t anymore. I couldn’t fucking stay there, not anymore,” Tom snapped. “It’s not Ella’s fault. Well not entirely but—“

“No, I know,” Haz rolled his eyes, “guess the perfect life can get boring.”

Harrison thought so too then. That Tom had the perfect life. How was it perfect? How was it really? Tom was not perfect. He was far from it, nothing about it was spectacular. He wasn’t living. Even though everyone around him thought he was having the time of his life Tom couldn’t help but feel miserable.

He wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. He didn’t enjoy the roles he was getting or the parties he was attending. He was far from what his dream was. And though his ‘breakout’ would come eventually and he’d have the chance to be who he wanted to be, it wasn’t coming any time soon and he doubted that he’d be able to be happy.

Or maybe he would be. He needed a break.

Tom caught up with Haz, his life, his misery and whatever the conversation led to, it’s fair to say that Tom’s head could barely pay any attention. His decision was sinking. He’d escaped his life.

He saw the girl from before leave, with the guy following her with frustration.

“They’re gonna break up,” Haz said watching them too.

Tom saw the girl had left the unfashionable red scarf behind.

He expected them to come back for them but they didn’t.

Eventually, Tom and Haz left. Tom picked up the scarf. He tried to say that it was a little reminder that he’d helped someone. He had actually been drawn to it. He couldn’t explain why. So he kept that idea.

Of course, he’d seen the red scarf and then regretted instantly taking it. Haz had judged him too.

“Why the fuck would you pick up a stranger’s scarf?”

“Because.”

The next day, with very little sleep and a bit of a headache from the jet lag and the beers, and after telling Haz he’d be productive, he decided he wouldn’t be and instead he wanted to visit a museum. Again, he was unsure as to why he wanted to go there. Lately he only followed his instinct.

But then again he had escaped so he could do whatever he wanted, and going to a museum seemed like something they’d never expect him to do. So that’s what he did.

But of course, he didn’t know much about art or anything so he decided he’d end up at the MET. Where else would he start?

He had planned getting on the subway but he decided he didn’t have time to memorize it and he didn’t want to look like an idiot so instead he took another cab. He didn’t tell the drivers this time any poetic bullshit.

When he got to the MET, he was immediately lost. Tom had this stupid habit of never knowing where the hell he was.

He didn’t mind this time. He would take the time to explore, to think to himself. To stare and read and to learn a little.

How ironic it seemed to be at the place where so many people were at. Basic, maybe but he was still enjoying it.

The big walls and endless exhibitions were making him feel small. And he hadn’t felt that way in a while. He liked that.

His path wasn’t being decided and he only followed his heart. He got to the musical instruments exhibitions.

A piano made him stop. It resonated with him. In some sorts, or it was interesting enough for him to make him stop.

“That’s the oldest surviving piano,” a voice mentioned from behind.

Tom blinked, realizing he had stared too long at it. “Oh?” He looked back at the voice and though Tom did not believe in coincidences he couldn’t help but think this was an oddly magical one.

The beer cap girl from the night before.

“Yeah, it dates back to 1538 and was created by—pardon my pronunciation—Bartolomeo Cristofori, the Italian man who is credited with inventing the piano,” she said, staring at it too. Her hair was slightly messed up. Wearing an overall that was covered with slight paint stains, a white cardigan over it.

“Oh, I would’ve never thought that,” Tom said. “It looks old.”

“Yeah,” she hadn’t looked at him, she was too entranced by it, her arms were crossed. “It's very old.”

Tom stared at her instead, how weird it was. He should’ve brought the scarf. No, that would’ve been weird, weirder than taking it.

“So you work here?” Tom questioned.

“No, I’m just incredibly good at lying,” she stated.

“Wha-what?”

“That fact I gave you, yeah that was a lie,” she grinned and finally turned to him. She tilted her head.

“Oh it sounded… very real,” Tom felt like an idiot.

“Yeah, I’ve worked on that for a while, lying to tourists, you’re my first one of the day,” she said. “So, a pleasure lying to someone with an accent.”

“It sounded very real,” Tom cleared his throat.

“I know, it’s a real fact, just slightly twisted,” she grinned. “I gave you the date wrong.”

Tom coughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and you straight up believed me,” she grinned. “The date is right there yet you listened to a random weirdo,” she grinned.

Tom blushed, “well, you sounded very—“

“No, don’t feel bad, it’s an art, lying to people,” she grinned.

He nodded in agreement.

She watched him curiously, “Do I know you?”

Tom faked to not recognize her. “I don’t think so.”

She narrowed her eyes, examining him head to toe. Then stopping at his face. “No, wait, were you at Bennie’s Beer Garden last night?”

She had recognized him.

“Uh—I was at a bar,” he decided to fake ignorance. “Oh—“he snapped his finger. “Wait are you—?”

“Beer cap girl, yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah, that was me, but I looked better last night.”

Tom smiled, “No, you look fine.”

“What a coincidence, thanks for the beer caps, by the way,” she chuckled. “How weird, and now you’re the first one I lie to.”

“It’s a pleasure, thank you,” Tom laughed.

“You must think I’m crazy, collecting beer caps and lying to strangers,” she blushed now, stepping back from him.

Tom did think that. In a good way. The girl seemed to be whatever he wanted to be: a fucking weirdo that don’t give two shits about anything in life.

“Surprisingly, no,” Tom shook his head. “I would lie to people instead if I was good at lying.”

Ironic, it seemed. Didn’t he make a living out of lying? Didn’t he technically lie his way through life?

“Yes, it's very tiring work, people say they don’t like being lied to,” she said. “I do, that’s why I love reading whatever is trending on twitter.”

Tom cackled, and turned his attention back to the piano.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” she mentioned casually.

“Tom,” he answered simply.

Y/N nodded. “So, Tom, what's your favorite lie supplier?”

“I watch movies,” he said, “or celebrity gossip.”

“A classic,” Y/N grinned. “Yeah, we all choose the lies we want to believe, I guess.”

“People like that, believing lies and feeling like they’re true,” Tom gave in. “Especially if they’re pretty. They help us escape reality.”

Y/N nodded slowly, and smirked. “We are getting deep now, huh?”

What the fuck did New York do to Tom that he randomly said poetic bullshit to strangers. He was embarrassed. “I—sorry.”

“No, no, I like that,” y/n was excited. “I guess you’re right. Lies are a way to cover something.”

“Yes, sometimes lying means protecting,” Tom bit his lip.

Y/N tilted her head. “Is it really?” She didn’t want to agree. “I would say lying is a way to actively hurt someone.”

“Well, were you trying to hurt me with your lie?” Tom challenged.

She licked her lips, defeated. “In a way,” she gave in. “I was trying to misinform you. So.”

“Well, what if the truth hurts more?” Tom questioned.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Then it’s a paradox.”

“Excuse me,” Someone interrupted them. “I’m sorry, y/n? I thought you weren’t coming today.”

Y/N smiled, “oh yeah, I wasn’t, I just forgot something in my locker and decided to walk around.”

The other guy turned to Tom. “Did she give you a fake fact?”

Tom chuckled, “she most certainly did.”

“Y/N, you can’t keep doing that,” the guy warned her. “You’re gonna get fired.”

Y/N grinned as she watched the guy go.

“I thought you didn’t work here,” Tom chuckled.

Y/N smiled mischievously, “I do, just another lie I said to you. You’re very lucky, two lies in one.”

Tom chuckled. “huh. Yeah, lucky me.”

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me, little British man,” she grinned. “I’ll go lie to other people, nice lying to you.”

Tom grinned. “Yeah, yeah, nice… believing your lies.”

“Enjoy the Met,” she grinned. “Hope I get to see you again, thanks for the beer caps.”

“Thanks for the… lies,” he said, watching her leave. Maybe he was lucky.

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[anika-ann]

One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.  

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.  

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers​.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’  Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork! So fancy!

Midnight

Chapter 4 — The Ball

Summary: In which our heroine feels exposed

Chapter 4 of 7 on AO3

“Some day, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you”

-The Way You Look Tonight, Fred Astaire

Having spent several days eating her way through Misthaven with one eye on the lookout for black sedans, Emma was glad to be heading away from the town and the emotional memories the sight of a pub or gas station would cause. She wasn’t sure why one innocent night with Killian Jones continued to dominate her thoughts and hijack her dreams, but she feared seeing him again would push her over the edge.

That didn’t keep her from wanting to though.

On some level, she knew he had probably already forgotten her. Perhaps he did before the night was even over. Some other passenger might be walking around his place now, wearing his shirts and eating his pancakes.

Because when she dreamed about Door Number One, they always had pancakes for breakfast.

Despite her stubborn heart’s refusal to cooperate, the last couple of days had not been wasted. Arthur turned out to be a man of his word. Like a crazy fairy godmother who sprinkled cold hard cash instead of pixie dust and magic, he kept her supplied in the finest clothes and the chicest accessories. At the same time, he made sure her social calendar buzzed with invitations from a who’s who of Misthaven’s finest and wealthiest families. Events that inevitably threw her together with Lance more often than not.

It was at a garden soirée the previous day Lance had pressed to drive her out to Camelot, Arthur’s sprawling estate just a couple of hours away. Figuring the sooner she got the weekend over with, the better, she remained elusive only long enough to be convincing and then accepted his offer.

She already figured out Lancelot du Lac was a man who enjoyed the chase. She also discovered underneath his rakish exterior was someone who desperately wanted to find love while at the same time being deathly afraid of it. Normally, Emma wasn’t one to psychoanalyze. Still, the funny thing about rich people’s parties was that they were actually very dull, and she had nothing to do but regret not kissing the Captain before they parted ways or come up with profiles on the personalities she encountered.

Psychoanalysis seemed like the safer option.

Now she was waiting in the lobby of the Ritz for Lance’s foreign sports car to arrive so she could finally shake the dirt of this town off her feet. She hoped she could shake the lingering sadness as well. It was doing things to her. Things like making her hear the Captain’s voice in crowds.

“Swan! Swan! Emma, if you don’t turn around this instant—“

Excitement and abject horror battled for supremacy when she realized it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. As if in slow motion, she turned in the direction of his voice and her eyes met his across the vast space. Then she watched as Killian Jones began to sprint toward her, pushing people out of his way none too gently while managing not to crease his startlingly posh blue suit. This wasn’t the flirty Uber driver of a few nights ago, all leather and innuendo. Sure he had the same sex hair and twinkling blue eyes, but this man exuded power and authority and, quite frankly, looked more than a little pissed as he closed the distance between them with frightening speed.

Unaware of the drama playing out, one of the valets rushed to her and announced breathlessly, “Baroness, your ride has arrived.”

“I… I’ll be right there.”

Emma couldn’t break eye contact with him. His face was just as she remembered it, as it should since it was less than a week ago when she last saw him. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked frantic to get to her. He seemed to know she was contemplating an escape and he paused briefly, not caring who heard him when he called across the remaining ground between them, “So help me, Swan, if you run again, I swear I will—“

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said as a herd of visitors passed between them chattering loudly in some foreign language, the group taking photos of the architecture and potted plants as if they were worthy of remembrance. She had a brief opportunity to step out unseen under cover of the mob separating them. To forever give this man who haunted her the slip.

Or she could stay.

God, did she want to stay.

—

The estate was as lovely as one would expect. Ancient oak trees lined the drive and gave way to topiaries precisely cut into fantastical shapes as the car approached the main house. Lance regaled her with tales of the vast land Arthur inherited, the numerous homes on the property, and the complete absence of any cell or internet services once you crossed the boundary.

It seemed old man Soberano convinced himself the emerging technologies were a way for the government to spy on people and had forbidden, by way of his last will and testament, any cell towers or fiber lines from ever crossing the property. It was why as coveted as an acquaintance with the family was, people often grumbled when they received an invitation to the country estate rather than one of the other properties throughout the globe. The ancient landline phones served as the communication system for the large estate and the only connection to the outside world.

Of course, most of his ramblings went in one ear and out the other because she was too busy wondering why Killian had been at the Ritz in a suit that looked like it was made for him. She would know. After all, she was now in possession of a wardrobe filled with custom pieces and carefully tailored lines.

Was it a fluke encounter or was he still searching for her? He would give new meaning to the phrase ‘no stone left unturned’ if his sole reason for coming to the premier hotel in town was to look for the broke woman he gambled on and lost. Literally.

“Darling, I feel like you haven’t heard a word I said the whole journey,” Lance gently complained as he helped her out of the low seats of the car and up the grand stairs leading to the front door. He appeared genuinely distressed at her distance, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for the ridiculous game she was playing.

“I’m sorry. I had some bad news right before we left, and I’m a bit distracted,” she explained, allowing Lance to take her hand as they approached the Soberanos who were waiting for them in the foyer. Their linked hands did not go unnoticed by either of their hosts, although to widely different responses.

Learning she was at the opposite end of the mansion from Lance, the group moved to the second floor together. The servant leading them turned to Lance and said helpfully, “Good news, Mr. du Lac, we found the cuff link you lost on your last visit. It was in Madam Soberano’s sitting room.”

Sheepishly, he looked to Emma as if ready to offer an excuse. Unable to keep a chuckle from escaping at the crazy situation, she patted his arm and said, “The wind must have blown it in.”

With that, the group separated. Arthur replaced Lance at her arm and smiled indulgently at his protege. “You’re quite good. You have him eating out of your hand, and you’re not even trying.”

“I’ve met his type before. The less I try, the more he will. He’ll be begging me to divorce my husband and proposing before the end of the night at this rate,” she joked.

“You don’t know Lancelot du Lac,” Arthur argued. Their leisurely stroll through the second-floor gallery allowed her to see pictures of his ancestors back to the Norman invasion, but she noted there was none of him or his beloved wife who he was fighting so hard to keep.

“Well, you don’t know Emma Swan. He tried to give me an emerald the size of a baby’s fist today.” She had been tempted to pocket the jewel, but some small part of her knew what she was doing was wrong and robbing the man blind when she had no intention of ever returning his affections wouldn’t make it any better.

“Excellent! I won’t even deduct it from your pay if you promise to take him for all he’s worth and break his heart, dear. It will do him some good.”

“How are you still friends with him? Knowing what he’s doing with your wife. I can’t figure out if you’re the most understanding man in the world or absolutely crazy.”

Sighing, he sat down on one of the numerous benches that lined the gallery floor and patted the seat beside him. Emma didn’t know precisely how or when it happened, but he had become almost a friend after the deal was struck. She spent as much time with him as she did Lance and, despite the fact she thought he was extremely odd, she had grown fond of him. “Because I think he was trying to make her happy at first. I told you she wasn’t the only one to make mistakes. This whole thing is my fault. It was my foolish pursuit of wealth that drove her to this, endlessly trying to carve my name into the family tomes as one of the best empire builders in the dynasty. If I had been there for her, if I had just listened when she tried to tell me what she needed…well, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“I hope for your sake this works.”

“And I hope for your sake, the next time a man tries to give you an emerald, you keep it.”

“How do you know I didn’t keep it?”

“Because I think I’m starting to know Emma Swan,” he explained with a wink and smile before pulling her up and taking her to the east wing. Dropping her off at her room, he teased, “Get some rest, dear. Cinderella needs to be at her best for the ball.”

With a sardonic grin, she countered, “Hard to be at your best when you know every Cinderella has her midnight.”

Hours later, after a nap and a fortifying drink, she shrugged into her form-fitting green dress like it was battle armor. She was joking earlier when she said a proposal would be forthcoming, but she had no doubt Lance would make a proposition of some kind. The trick would be to keep him on the line without actually following through with anything.

She left her room as late as possible to avoid spending too much time around the pampered elite who were her housemates that weekend. While she had met a fair few during her crash course in Misthaven society, Arthur was the only one she didn’t mind having a conversation with, but he was unlikely to abandon Guin’s side to keep her company. Especially since it would put a damper on Lance’s pursuit.

Her destination was the expansive, three-tiered back deck, illuminated by thousands of clear fairy lights and a fair number of fireflies, the faint breeze carrying the briny smell of the ocean that lay only a few feet beyond their well-tended lawn. The men in tuxedos added a dashing contrast to their partners’ colorful evening gowns and cocktail dresses. A string quartet was playing off to the side; the beautiful melody drifted through the party in a way that enhanced the romantic atmosphere to a point it made her hurt.

She was surprised to see Arthur standing alone through the wall of windows. She stopped to take in the scene, complete with busy waitstaff and tables of food.

She couldn’t wait to get away.

“Alright, Guinevere, you want to talk, let’s talk. I have a few serious words to say.”

Silently moving until the curtains partially hid her, Emma watched as Lance and Guinevere made their way toward the patio. Guinevere’s eyes were red and she was fretting with a handkerchief gripped tightly between her hands. “As if you had two serious words in your whole vocabulary, Lance.”

“I could make a very noble speech. Tell you we were just two ships passing in the night, but the truth is, Arthur is my friend. I don’t want to break up a happy marriage. We’ve been playing with fire, but it’s better to end this now before someone gets hurt.”

“Funny how none of that mattered until the baroness showed up. I know you think you are in love with her. I can see it in your face every time she is around. You’re behaving like a schoolboy. You’re a darling, but you need to be careful. We don’t know anything about her. All we have is her word that she is who she says she is. I’ve asked around; no one has ever heard of her. Maybe her hair is dyed, and maybe she’s poisoned three husbands. Sidney told me there was some man calling her a swan and chasing her at her hotel today. It had all the staff talking.”

“You’re jealous, Guin.”

“Terribly. Fun, isn’t it?” The woman rushed from the room, tears flowing freely now. Emma didn’t move from her hiding place, instead waiting until he had joined the party before she followed in his footsteps.

—

As she predicted, Lance made sure he was her partner for most of the night. She followed Guin’s movements with alarm, knowing the woman was on edge and fearful of what she may do if she felt she had nothing to lose. Her glance met Arthur’s when she saw his wife and Sidney go inside, heads close together and a look of shock crossing Guin’s face. The other man nodded at her and trailed after them at a distance.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to let Lance lead her away from the party into the formal gardens spreading north of the patio. Perhaps she was tired of having to put a fake smile on her face, or maybe she was simply tired.

He kept a steady stream of conversation going, mostly unanswered on her side, and navigated them down an old stone path to a large fountain surrounded by benches and meticulously pruned rose bushes. “Please don’t interrupt, dear, but suppose we were to follow this path all the way to the garage and take my car for a ride through the countryside.”

“Oh, the make-believe game! It’s always been one of my favorites. But why stop at the countryside, Lance? Why not go on a tour of the moon while we’re at it?”

“I asked you not to interrupt,” he teased, pulling her arm through his and continuing to amble further away from the house. “You see, this isn’t some random trip. We have a particular place we are heading. A little estate by the lake where an opinionated old dame lives. It’s twenty ’til midnight. If we leave now, we can make it as dawn is breaking.”

Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “And what business would we have at this chateau by the lake?”

“I want you to meet my mother. To introduce you to her and tell her that I’ve met the one. Then the pale light of dawn will shine on the first day of our lives together.”

He was serious, and she felt like the lowest of human beings when she joked back, “I doubt the day will be the only thing breaking when that bombshell drops. Were we going to share the news with my husband before or after our visit?”

Before he could respond, Arthur called out from behind them on the path, “Baroness Jones, I believe you promised me a dance.”

He reached them seconds later with a pointed look at her. Although he was the picture of sophistication, she could tell by his quick pace something had happened. “A midnight dance as I remember.”

“Of course, please excuse me,” she murmured to Lance, who looked like he was about to protest as she took Arthur’s arm and allowed him to guide her back to the house. Keeping a calm expression on her face, she smiled and nodded to the people they passed and waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “What’s happened?”

“It’s midnight, dear. The ground has opened under our feet. That horrible friend of Guin’s, Sidney, did some digging and found out there is no Baroness Jones. They plan to make an announcement any moment now. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess, Emma.”

They reached the dance floor Arthur installed on the deck specifically for the party, but neither felt like dancing. Instead, they hovered along the back wall and waited for the troublesome pair to return from their scheming.

Sighing, she nudged his shoulder. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We never really stood a chance at this working.”

“But we were so close. I could feel Guin changing, turning back to me. Now I may as well help her pack her bags,” he replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one off to her. Clicking his glass against hers in a mock toast, he muttered, “Here’s to wasted years and endless torment.”

He downed the entire glass and, when she only took a sip, he reached out and downed hers as well.

She wasn’t sure what he had to be upset about. She was the one who was going to be exposed as a charlatan, forced to exit under the judgmental gazes of a house full of people who would dine on the story for months to come. Just as she was about to point out it could be worse, she saw Guin descend the stairs with Sidney hot on her heels. “Here we go.”

“I’ll stand by you as best I can,” Arthur promised, his hand coming to rest in the small of her back as if to provide some physical barrier against what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have a moment of your time? As you know, Arthur and I pride ourselves on providing the best of entertainment at our parties, and I think you’ll find tonight’s will not disappoint. I have a story to share that I think will delight and amuse you. Under our roof tonight, we have a guest claiming one of the oldest names in European aristocracy.”

A murmur started in the crowd, musicians laying down their instruments, even the waitstaff and caterers ceased what they were doing. It seemed as if the entire universe held its breath waiting for Guin to continue. She could tell the woman enjoyed every moment of it.

“I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the heraldry of Cambridge nobility, but let me assure you that in all of England, there is no—“

From the patio entrance, the footman interrupted in a booming voice to announce the arrival of a late guest of note. “Baron Killian Jones.”

Emma had to grab Arthur’s arm to keep from falling when her knees buckled. In the soft light, the Captain looked like a fantasy. His dark hair mussed in a way that looked intentional, but she knew it resulted from repeatedly running his hand through it when he was frustrated. He was outfitted in a tuxedo, the crisp white shirt making his stubble seem even more dangerous in the moonlight. He surveyed the crowd looking for her, supremely unconcerned he had the attention of the entire party.

Arthur looked at the mysterious stranger and then took in her aghast expression and whispered, “Do you know him?”

At that moment, Killian’s eyes met hers and the heat she saw there made it difficult to think, much less speak. “Yes. Yes, I know him.”

“Right. All hope isn’t lost then,” Arthur said with forced cheerfulness as he disengaged her death grip on his arm and went to greet their visitor. In a loud voice, so nobody would have to strain to hear, he said, “Welcome to my home, my dear Baron. It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”

Despite the fact the men had never laid eyes on each other before, Emma observed the Captain as he quickly assessed the lay of the land and responded, “Yes, years and years. I hope you don’t mind me trespassing on your hospitality. I only just arrived in town and the hotel staff informed me my wife was spending the weekend here. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

“With such a charming companion, no one blames you,” Guinevere said smoothly, giving Sidney a look meant to quell any further talk and rushing to meet their newest arrival. “She’s kept us all so diverted this past week.”

Giving the woman a slight grin, he nodded. “I’m sure. She’s nothing if not diverting.”

Moving away from the Soberanos, he took the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of her, mouth twisted in amusement and eyes on fire. He seemed to drink in the sight of her from the artless way the curls were falling down her back to how her hand was white-knuckled from holding on to a nearby chair.

“You found me.” Somehow her words sounded like both an accusation and a thank you. Her eyes searched his face for some clue as to why he was there.

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

Before anything else could be said, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. Plundering her mouth, not caring they had an audience numbering in the hundreds, he shifted his grip, one hand making its way to her hair and cradling the back of her head. The other drifted lower, moving her body until it pressed against the long length of his. The thin fabric of her dress allowed the heat of him to soak through to her skin which suddenly felt tight and she was desperate for more contact.

She leaned into him, allowing her hands finally to comb through the hair that had haunted her dreams. The silky strands provided a contrast to the rough drag of his facial scruff against her cheek, the feeling of him in her arms doing exactly what she wanted almost pushing her into sensory overload. She didn’t think, who could when faced with such an onslaught, her body moving on instinct. She moaned into his mouth, tongues tangling and tasting of champagne and need.

A throat cleared in the distance and reality came crashing back. Reluctantly, Killian pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and breathing unevenly.

With quiet wonder, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hungry to see my little wife.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[dl-oblivion]

What would S boys be like if they had good father and mother figures?

Considering both nature, and nurture play into ones personality development, that’s hard to say. I believe they’d be drastically different, as all suffer with severe childhood trauma that shaped them into who they are in the series. Some core aspects of their personalities would be kept though. I’m gonna break down their childhoods, and how I think they’d grow up if things were different. This is gonna be my first analysis so I hope you guys enjoy reading it.

⚠️TW for physical, emotional, and sexual abuse⚠️

Shu - As a child, Shu was constantly pressured as the eldest son to surpass his father. For hundreds of years he would have to study, and barely got anytime to be a kid. When he did, it was always on his own merit. Running away, and seeking out his best friend Edgar, was how he got away from it all. (At least for a very brief portion of his life.) One thing after another, the things that brought him joy were stripped from him, including Edgar. Feeling trapped, he eventually stopped caring all together, and burnt out. His lazy persona was formed from depression, and trauma. That being said, his sluggish attitude, is the only aspect of his personality I can really see changing. Maybe the vampire would be less sadistic too? That’s hard to say, but perhaps if he continued making human friends, he wouldn’t look down on them so much. Having good parents as a vampire might mean that they belittle humans even more so who knows. His quiet nature would remain, but he wouldn’t be shy by any means. I think his “cool” personality is just how he is. His perverted side would also still be present. It’s worth noting that he’s the only brother who hates his parents, but doesn’t hold any kind of grudge. (Subaru doesn’t hate his mom, but would kill his father if the opportunity was available.)

Reiji - Reijis childhood was the complete opposite of his older brother. Instead of being hyper focused on, he was neglected. No matter what he did, nobody seemed to care for his achievements. The reason why Reiji is the most intelligent out of all his siblings, is because he never stopped trying to get attention by proving his capabilities. Even when he did get praised, it was in the form of backhanded compliments “You will make an excellent right hand man to your brother once he becomes king”. That inferiority complex of his, and hatred for his mother/older brother, would have never been there if he had good parents. Being raised in a loving home, I believe the good aspects of his personality would be cranked up, as opposed to the bad. He’d still be the most intelligent, but out of curiosity, and the need to learn more than anything. His ego would still be present a bit, especially when it comes to humans, but perhaps he’d be more snarky than sadistic? I can also see him being less strict, and more charming towards people. The character would be a little empathetic towards others, and not as detached from his family. Getting along with his brother would be in a playful competitive sense. I also lowkey see him being a mamas boy.

Ayato - Ayato has a similar upbringing to Shu, except his mother was extremely unstable, and downright cruel. Unlike the other two mothers, Cordelia didn’t care for her sons at all. He was a victim to beatings, and torment (I’m sure we all know the story of him being drowned in a lake). Ayato also witnessed Cordelias fits/breakdowns, (which often resulted in maids being killed before his very eyes) as well as her love affairs. The reason why she showed even a shred of regard for Ayato, was because he was the oldest of the triplets. The vampire was praised for things that made his mother look good, and proved he was the “best”. One of the ways narcissists are formed is from parental neglect, and only being praised when they do something worthy of acknowledgement. Which is why his whole character revolves around his need to be the best. If the vampire was raised by good parents, his egotism wouldn’t be present at all. He’d be a way more lighthearted character, and probably just a big loud dork. I’m sure he’d still be a jerk to some extent, but in a misfit kind of a sense. He seems playful at heart, and stubborn in nature. Perhaps he’d be a bit of a heart breaker amongst ladies, or absolutely terrible at picking up chicks. I wholeheartedly believe his personality was mostly formed via “nurture”, but if he wasn’t as strong of a character emotionally, would he have made it out the same?

Laito - Laitos upbringing is different from that of his brothers. While he was neglected, and traumatized from witnessing things no kid should have, the abuse he went through didn’t occur until he was a teenager. At a certain age (unclear), Cordelia began abusing him sexually, and warped his viewpoint on love. His only purpose was to please her sexually, which completely fucked him up. While he always knew it was wrong, Laito was manipulated into believing that he loved his mother as a partner. When Karl Heinz found out, he locked Laito in a dungeon as punishment. Nobody was there to comfort, or acknowledge him as a victim. Instead, Cordelia had sex in front of Laito, and told her son that he was nothing more than a play toy. He continued the cycle of abuse once the incestuous relationship ended. His whole persona is fake, it’s a means to bury all his trauma deep down. With all that being said, Laito would be an entirely different person if he was raised by loving parents. Instead of being this abusive asshole, he’d be a more soft spoken, chill, and nice person. Maybe a little flirtatious, but unintentionally so. I highly doubt he’d be nearly as sadistic, or brutal when it comes to humans, as he didn’t even enjoy taking advantage of his first victim, Hilde (a maid). His hobbies might also be a focus for him, as he wouldn’t be constantly trying to fill up his time by preying on people. Perhaps being a legendary pianist? He’d definitely be closer to his brothers as well, and give them advice more often. His perceptive, and sharp people reading skills would still be there.

Kanato - Kanato has always been needy, and attention seeking. Instead of trying to get his mothers attention by proving his capabilities, he would often times beg for it, or hurt himself. Most of his childhood was spent being neglected. Even if he sustained really bad injuries, Cordelia would ignore him, or request one of the servants take care of it. She disregarded him, until it was discovered that he could sing. His mother was turned on by his voice, and requested that Kanato sing while she was having intercourse. Since he was exposed to sex at a young age, his view on lust/love is very warped, just like Laito. Not nearly as much, but he believes forcing himself onto others is normal. Women are lustful creatures who always want it, in his eyes. (This explains why he forces himself onto Yui the most out of all his brothers.) Cordelia would also order Kanato to dispose of her affairs once she was bored, or if they caused trouble. His mother approved of him turning them into dolls, which is why he continued doing it for hundreds of years. If he had a normal upbringing, Kanato wouldn’t be as broken, and deranged as he is. His mood swings, and extremely sadistic nature wouldn’t be there. I believe he’d be quite timid, and a bit bratty if raised with good parents. He’d throw tantrums sometimes if he didn’t get what he wanted, but not have full blown episodes. I think he also wouldn’t hate women, and humans nearly as much as he does. Kanato is a sensitive person at heart who needs love.

Subaru - Subaru had a lonely, and isolated childhood. He did experience brief moments of tenderly love from his mother, but it was usually followed by Christa breaking down, and screaming at him. His low self esteem is rooted in his mother calling him a monster his entire life. Because Christa was locked away, dealing with her own mental deterioration, Subaru looked after himself. Never did he get validation or approval from anybody. With no siblings to turn to, or father to look to for guidance, he became extremely destructive. Taking his anger out on objects was the only way he could remain sane with a sickly mother. I’m sure there’s been instances where he punched, or beat, brides/servants, as sad as that is to say. I wouldn’t doubt it, since he has said he’s blind during moments or rage, and can easily hurt others if they’re around him when he’s like this. If Subaru had even one good parental figure he’d be different. He’d still be sadistic, but able to control his anger/emotions way better. His horrible self image wouldn’t be there either, and maybe he’d take pride in himself more. I think he’d also pick up hobbies, or be involved in sports, as opposed to being a delinquent. It said in his part of the anniversary book that he actually enjoys exercising, and likes his body sometimes, because he works out. Without a doubt he’d still be an awkward goof, and a tsundere at times. Probably known around the school for having cute reactions as opposed to being scary.

Whew that was long, if you read even a sliver of that Ily (っ◔︣◡◔᷅)っ ❤

[needdatbag]

Drinking You/II

Notes: Soooo....Here’s part 2..Thanx for the notes guyssss <3 ♥

Summary: You encounter a stranger on your way back from the grocery shop and everything about him pulls you in.

Pairings: Eren Yeager x Reader; Various pairings eventually

Warnings: NSFW(not today tho); mentions of smoking. 

>

Part II

’’Kid….Am I not interesting enough for your small, forgetful brain?’’ asked Levi from his desk, his grey eyes expressing the dissatisfaction he had about your mistake.

THE FILE. The Eren Yeager file. The file he stole from your bag after he finished...well...screwing you. To say that you were upset about the fact that you were used as a mere excuse for theft was an understatement. You were pissed as hell.

But your boss came first, as his death glare made you snap out of your one sided grudge with the memory of the charming terrorist you encountered. It was definitely wrong and probably a bad move but you couldn’t tell Levi what happened. So….you lied.

’’For the 27th time, I am so sorry that I ‘accidentally’ threw an important file into the shredder..I was cleaning my desk and I wasn’t paying attention.’’ you sounded honest but a little mechanical as you said the same excuse for awhile now.

Levi raised one of his brows at your nonchalance but sighed and said:

’’At least you didn't lose it. That would have been a big ass problem.’’

You clenched your fist behind your back. This was not ending well for you.

’’Please..I’m not that idiotic.’’ somehow your tone didn’t betray you but a small voice in your mind retorted immediately, ‘You are more than idiotic and you’re definetley screwed.’. You gulped.

A soft knock interrupted the beginning of your inner mental breakdown. Armin entered Levi’s office carrying a stack of files in one arm and holding what looked like a coffee cup in the other. He placed the files on Levi’s desk and handed him the cup. You suddenly blurted out your first thought.

’’But you don’t drink coffee.’’

Levi’s death glare almost made you take a step back. Well, maybe Eren Yeager took more than the file...he stole your brain too as you suddenly find yourself incapable of thinking. You want to slap a hand over your mouth. What the hell was wrong with you lately?

Armin watched you curiously for a moment. You feared his intuition, he was too sharp sometimes and that made you anxious in the current situation, but you tried to play it off anyway.

’’Ahem, yes, I heard it from Mrs. Zoe? Ha, am I wrong ?’’ you laughed awkwardly at the end of your sentence.

Armin shook his head, his short blonde hair hitting his face in the process. ’’That is right. As expected of you, Y/N, your mind always picks up the smallest details. The Captain drinks tea. I got a few extra cups to go, just 10 minutes ago. You can help yourself from the kitchen...Though I’m pretty sure you love coffee more.’’ he said while giving you a kind, small smile. You smiled back trying not to break eye contact.

‘You might be my best friend’s soulmate.’

You cringed internally. Not because you didn't find Armin attractive, because you thought the boy could even model if he wanted to, but because of what happened later after Eren said that phrase. You shook your head trying to banish the image of a long haired, 6ft man on top of your naked body. ‘Not the time, not the time.’

You wondered what Armin would think about the fact that you got to meet his best friend before he did. As you found out today, turns out they have not met in more than a year. You felt guilty for keeping your mouth shut. But it seemed like the best course of action. You needed to act solo for a while.

In a safe way, of course.

Levi motioned for Armin to leave but as he got closer to the door you saw his eyes discreetly peering at your neck and then at your face. Your hair was covering most of your hickeys but Armin might have noticed something anyway.

Once he left the room, Levi got up from his seat and approached the window.

He was wearing a plain white dress shirt and black pants with a pair of dark brown leather shoes. He was not going on the field today, you could tell that much because of his outfit. He was in his thirties now but his looks still caused many casualties between the female officers, especially the MPs who were more than enthusiastic when Levi passed them by. He was one of the best at his job and his handsome face was obviously a bonus.

You always said it was the mix between his good looks and his cold attitude that was pulling people in, but he was far from an unfeeling person. He usually cared too much about everything. Seeming distant was just his way of preserving himself. People were impressed just by hearing stories about him. But most of them had no idea how much he suffered. You knew. Not that he liked that. He never liked the fact that fate seemed to always make you meet again and again.

The first time, as his student when he was teaching in highschool. The second time as his blind date, Hange’s courtesy. The third time as the new member of his team, fate’s courtesy this time.

Each time you look at him you remember how selfish you’ve always been. You hate the thought but you know and can’t deny the fact that one way or another you always became a burden for the man sitting right across you. Right from the start.

----------------------------------------------------------------------- ’’Sir, is she worth it?’’ an eighteen years old you asked a younger Levi who was just exiting through the school’s gates. As he whipped his head back to match the voice to the person, his stern look softened just a bit. It was late and you were supposed to be home long ago. Instead you were only leaving now, a bag full of books in your right hand. You always stayed in the library until the school closed. You didn’t want to go home anyway.

’’That’s not an ideal question to ask about your sister, is it, brat?’’

You started laughing. He knew better than to refer to his fiance as your sister. You hated the bitch and there was no bond whatsoever between the two of you. She was just the awful daughter of the amazing woman who took you in after your parents kicked you out.

’’Can you give me a ride home, sir? I am afraid my frail arms are unable to carry these books until I reach the nearest bus stop.’’ you said in a dramatic tone while Levi just massaged his temples out of frustration but made a gesture towards his car anyway.

You smiled at him as you entered the car. He was driving in silence, without any radio music in the background, without any small talk. You wanted to tell him so many things, you wanted to express your indignation regarding the fact that your ‘sister’ was cheating on him and using him as an alibi so her mother won’t ever suspect she’s dating one of the biggest drug dealers in the region, you wanted to complain about the fact that he wasted his good heart on someone who wronged him before, you wanted to ask him why was he clinging to unhappiness so desperately. You could never understand. Even as you watched as the road light travelled on his face while he drove, you could only think about how well he managed to hide his pain. People didn’t notice that he was alone most of the time. Or that he rarely smiled.

It made you sad, it made you think of a part of yourself. Except you constantly fought for your right at happiness even if sadness never left your side. No matter how annoying that made you, you still kept going. But he didn’t even seem like he tried. He looked like the loneliest person on earth and he hid it so well that if you said what you thought out loud, people would just think you're looking into it too much.

You reached your house and his car stopped. Somehow, only now you noticed the pleasant smell inside the car. It smelled like fruity tea-bags which you assumed came from a spare ’stash’ he had somewhere around. You smiled. He always drinks tea during the breaks. It makes him look so refined too. Without any intention you giggled. He noticed and raised a brow, asking:

’’What makes you so happy that you’re hesitating to get out of my car? Hm? Move it, you didn’t even had dinner yet.’’

You turned your whole body towards him while you spoke in an excited manner.

’’I was thinking about you, sir. The way you enjoy your tea during breaks and how that’s the most happy I saw you since I came to this school.’’

With a confused look on his face he tilted his head but let you speak nonetheless. Your voice became softer while you looked down, your hair falling over your face.

’’You see, I believe that happiness can only come from being honest with yourself. Lie to the world, lie to people but if you lie to yourself you’ll just tint your soul to the point even the tea you love so much won’t taste the same anymore.’’

Levi’s eyes widened slightly. He knew you were outspoken and that sometimes you caused trouble because you meddled in things that were none of your business and you spoke way too much but he couldn’t deny the way you arranged your words. He knew you had a kind heart and that you were trying to reach his. He almost wanted to smile. ‘Stupid kid.’

He didn't say anything as you exited the car but watched you until you entered the house. You were right, he knew he was cheated on, he knew he was used but there was another side to his truth too. He used the idea of a fiance to run away from both his past and future.

But looking at you who had nothing but wanted everything, he thought that maybe, just maybe...he became a coward. And he always hated cowards.

As you watched him drive away, that was the last time you met him as a teacher, as he would lose his job in two weeks due to murder acusations regarding his fiance. Your ‘sister’.

You’d hear from your classmates how a tall, blonde detective cuffed him in front of the whole school while he put up a fight.

Then he would be gone and you wouldn't hear anything about him for a few years. -------------------------------------------------

’’So, care to explain why you are so distracted today?’’ he was gazing outside the window but you couldn’t help notice the way his voice was softer now that you were alone again.

’’I was unable to rest well last night, however you don’t need to worry, sir. I’ll snap back as soon as I drink some coffee, just as Armin suggested.’’

Another lie. You actually slept like a baby because you were so exhausted. The bed felt so warm and the man next to you smelt so good that you felt like you were floating. Only your dumb ass could sleep so relaxed next to a criminal.

You pondered before asking the next question.

’’What type of person used to be.....Eren Yeager?’’

His name sounded so different from your mouth or maybe that was your own perception. You recognised a little stinginess in your tone.

You pulled out your phone and started a voice recording. You were allowed to do so when it came to declarations. You were a profiler afterall. You needed to go over conversations and details, multiple times to complete your work.

Levi turned away from the window and took a few steps closer to you. His expression looked indifferent but you knew better. There was regret mixed in his feelings.

’’That brat wasn’t the most talented nor the smartest agent around, I actually often thought he was more of an idiot than most people I knew..’’

You stopped yourself from laughing. ’Unprofessional...Don’t do it. Let him continue.’

’’He was too much of a hot head for his own good but he listened to my orders and tried to look at things from a more mature perspective, perhaps we might have asked too much from him. Our department was in trouble and we lost more people than you could count, in a very short amount of time. We had an operation that lasted for more than 2 years. Eren was the key to that operation. Everything circled around him. We wanted to find answers so badly, we sacrificed so much that we never saw the fact that we had spies among us and the whole operation became more than a national issue. You said you read the file before you shredded it, right? I also mentioned it in the meeting before. You know what’s the issue I’m talking about, right?’’

Your breathing becomes more alert and a bitter feeling takes over your heart. Memories from your distant childhood try to resurface but you push them away. The past always catches up.

Your voice becomes more serious when you answer.

’’After 14 years of peace we might have another war with the neighbour nation, Marley, is that right?’’

Silence fills the room as Levi only nods. He seems lost in his own mind for a while and you can only guess what he might be thinking about. He was a soldier back then and this whole deal pissed him off.

’’Eren betrayed us. No warning, just a vague explanation. He almost wiped out their whole capital, one of the biggest cities in Marley, he killed VERY important people and now we are threatened left and right. This dumbass is very close to starting the biggest international conflict this country ever faced. Can’t believe that brat had the nerve to come back and now he’s under our jurisdiction again. We have to catch him and fast. Everyone you’ll ask will say he changed, but I always knew he had it in him. He might just destroy the world...no one can cage him. He’s that type of monster.’’

Your body suddenly felt numb, a weird sense of fear trying to take over you. His face, his expressions, everything flashed in your mind repeatedly, pieces of the conversation you had, the way he touched you, the note he left. For the first time in a very long time, you felt lost in translation.

Things were not adding up. Someone was wrong here. Something was definitely missing. You paused the recording and exhaled while rubbing your temples.

’’This should not be handled by a departament full of people that know him. Someone must really want to bury the Survey unit in shit.’’

A humourless laugh escaped your mouth.

’’Sorry Levi, you always hated when I cursed. Forgot about that.’’  you said, a sad look plastered on your face remembering many of the arguments you two had mostly because of you.

He frowned and took another step closer to you, unconsciously wanting to pat your head but you were already heading for the door. He snapped out of it and looked at his hand. He got carried away for a second, wanting to comfort you.

’’I guess you’ll always have a soft spot for me, sir...but we shouldn’t be very comfortable around each other. You were always the better man and I was always the wicked little girl.’’

’’L/N..’’

You exited his office. ‘Unfortunately, I’m still the same.’ you thought while walking to your desk and getting ready to work on the details of some cases that became piled up in the last week.

As you sat down and flipped through various lists of criminals, you tried to silence your mind. Sometimes your mental state was just like a furious sea storm. You have the tendency to drown in your own dark and poisonous thoughts until your identity becomes foggy. But work was a great distraction and thankfully...you sure had plenty of it. So you rolled up your sleeves, took a sip of the coffee Armin put on your desk (somehow the fact that he did sweet gestures like this made you very warm inside) and started working on your reports ignoring intentionally a certain criminal whose face you really didn’t wanna see again today, not on a screen, not printed...you'll deal with the Yeager case at home. You had to catch up on your work anyway.

Right? You weren’t running away or anything...right?

People around you became colorful shadows that moved around exiting or entering the headquarters while you were scribbling furiously details about different cases. When your phone rang, an hour before the end of your shift, you almost jumped out of your chair. You looked around and realised everyone was out and you were the only one left. Probably investigating, or some kind of emergency.

On the screen of your phone Jean’s face was popping up with the incoming call. When he first gave you his contact number he took a selfie of himself because he thought he looked ‘cool’ in that moment and you ‘had to have his handsomeness on your phone’, his words not yours. You rolled your eyes at the memory.

’’ ‘Sup Kirschtein? I’m busy and I swear to God if you call me ‘cause you're bored while being on some stakeout I will…’’ He burst into laughter and answered: ’’Calm down Y/N, I only did that like five or six times and you might’ve even liked it, don’t lie to me now.’’ he said in a charming yet joking voice and you couldn’t help but smile. He was one of the people who could easily put you in a good mood. ’’Wanna get out to get some ‘’fresh air’’ on the roof? It turns out we sorted out what we had to do sooner than expected….well sooner than I thought. That damn Floch will kill me one day...His attitude might just get us both killed.’’

Of course he wanted to smoke and complain about his partner, Floch. Jean didn’t seem like the type to think a lot, especially when you first got to meet him. He’s loud, a little bit of a bragger and has lots of opinions on anything but he was an exceptionally capable man in times of crises. You witnessed that a few times but you also heard it from Sasha: ’’Marco, Jean’s ex-partner, always said that Jean was the one most capable of leading us out of trouble and Marco’s intuition about people was as good as my instincts about danger. He knew what he was saying.’’

When you reached the roof, Jean was already smoking while looking at the red sky. The sun was almost gone. He looked lost in thought, barely noticing you until he heard the sound of your lighter. You took a long puff and exhaled. For some reason you felt exhausted and even if the silence somehow pleased you, it felt unlike Jean. He always liked to talk a lot around you, your smoking breaks being full of gossiping. It was almost always the two of you, given the fact that you and him were the only smokers in the department. You had a hunch that Armin smoked too but only when he was truly bothered by something, Connie tried it once and said he liked it but you knew he lied, Sasha said she didn't like the taste(did not surprise you at all there) and Mikasa thought it was stupid and unhealthy and you honestly agreed.

’’Why do you smoke, Jean?’’ you asked out of the blue. You realised you never asked him that. For some reason the image of Eren staring at you while holding his pack of cigarettes in one hand flashed in your mind. You took another inhale of smoke trying to push the image away. Jean didn’t respond immediately but when his eyes fixed on the cigarette he was holding.

’’Marco used to smoke here. It was so unlike him. He really didn’t seem like the type and he tried to hide it all the time...he was even carrying perfume around.’’ he said and let out a short bitter laugh. For some reason he placed a hand on his face trying to hide his expression. ’’I started smoking after he died. I guess..well fuck...I miss being with my friend. When I’m holding this cigarette it feels as if he’s still here. As if I could …’’ he hesitated before continuing,’’....ask him for advice about what I should do..’’

You got closer to him and bumped your shoulder into his in a friendly manner. He dropped his hand from his face and looked at you. You could see he was emotionally drained but you flashed him a cheerful smile even though you felt like shit as well. You looked up at the now, darker sky and said in a loud voice:

’’By smoking this cigarette I dare ask the amazing Marco Bott from heaven to lend me some of his wisdom. Please let me give our friend here a good answer to the question troubling his, not so young anymore, soul.’’

’’I’m only a year older than you, Y/N.’’ he said, his voice a little amused now. You rolled your eyes.

’’You’re an old soul, Jean. My shift will be over soon so spit it out...What’s bothering yo-’’

’’Did you study Eren’s file?’’ he asked out of the blue. You sighed and took another cigarette out and placed it in your mouth.

’’Not yet. Tonight I plan on looking over it. Why? Wanna tell me something about him that might help me in writing his profile?’’

Jean shook his head and took a puff out of his cigarette.

’’Once you look over it, after you read our statements  about him that are also included there, before writing any report, I want you to tell me something that might help me.’’ you raised a brow in confusion but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was staring straight ahead at the city covered in the red light of the sunset.

’’Who do you think will hesitate when shooting? Us or Eren ?’’

You ran a hand through your hair and looked at the city too. As the night approached, it suddenly looked more dangerous.

‘Who indeed…?’ . . . . . Before leaving you stopped by Hange’s office to drop some of the work you completed for the day. Moblit, her assistant, the guy who you knew for a fact was the only one besides Levi to be able to control your workaholic Director, was trying to force feed her some pizza while she insisted that she had to look over some DNA samples found at a random crime scene.

’’M’am, I know you worked in the lab for most of your life but now you should be dealing only with the work Erwin had to do when he had your position. He didn't try to be in ten places at once! Come on, eat this slice. You didn't eat all day! Do I really have to message Levi right now? You know he always gets pissed when you act like this.’’

When Hange noticed you at the door she took the opportunity and sprinted to the lab leaving a stressed Moblit behind who was still holding a pizza slice in his right hand staring at you in disbelief . Poor man. You placed your work on Hange’s desk and eyed Moblit and then the pizza. You smiled like a cunning, old, hungry dog.

’’I’ll call The Captain for you if you give me two slices of that pizza. Deal?’’ Moblit sighed. ’’Deal.’’

So there you were now, walking out of the building towards your car, while happily munching on your pizza slice. You planned on eating the other one at home, later, if you’d get hungry while working late. You entered your car and threw your stuff on the passenger seat. You started the engine and drove home while listening to the radio. Weirdly enough there was a radio podcast about astrology. You found it weird because this type of podcast would usually be broadcast in the morning. When you heard your zodiac sign being mentioned you couldn’t help but pay a little attention. You were curious afterall and maybe some luck was ahead of you. ’You never know.’

’’As I said John, the (your zodiac) sign should really be careful about what they say and do...The ruler of divine punishment, Jupiter seems to have entered a rare conjunction. The past is catching up to them and it looks like they can’t run away from certain confrontations anymore. It could be with someone else or maybe with themselves. Also, it would be especially good to avoid Fire Signs around this time for (your zodiac), as all three, Aries, Leo and Sagittarius are chaos bringers in this Jupiter conjunction. So you heard me? Don’t try to dig into anything too much these days...You might just bury yourself.’’

You started laughing.

’’Pfft, yeah right... What a load of crap.’’ you said displeased as you turn off the radio.

You finally reach home. After you park and lock your car you enter your apartment building and as always you take the elevator, too lazy to drag your tired body on the stairs. You only think about soaking yourself in a warm bath as soon as possible. You might even use the new bubble bath stuff you got last week. ’Yeah, I think I will do just that. My body aches everywhere anyway, I need some relaxation.’

So immediately after you unlocked your door, you dropped your stuff, and went straight to the bathroom to turn on the warm water. Hell, you might’ve even skipped on the way as you were so happy to finally just have a moment of forgetting everything about anything and just indulge in the warmth and the nice smell of a warm bath.

So happy that you didn’t even bother to turn on the light in the living room.

Because if you did, you would have noticed Eren Yeager, sitting on your couch with a gun by his side.

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

Preview:

You looked at Eren. You looked at the gun. You looked at the gun. You looked at Eren.

There were many things you wanted to say in that moment but strangely enough a rather unusual question was bothering you more than anything.

’’You never mentioned your birthday,’’ you said not believing you were actually asking this out of all things, ’’not that you forgot to mention things like your name or the fact that you’re right now, probably the most wanted criminal in the...world ...ha ha ....but who keeps track, am I right?’’ you laughed nervously.

’’My birthday..?’’ he asked while watching you suspiciously but calm at the same time. ’’Why?’’

You kept your distance. Your position was stiff and you couldn’t help but be surprised that he was right in front of you. In your house ...again...in less than 24h. Why in Isayama’s name was he here?

’’Nothing important really...Just something silly.’’ again, you let out a nervous laugh. You were in trouble and you didn’t have your fucking gun on you and your phone was in the bag.

Eren let out a sigh and shook his head.

’’Hm, shouldn’t you, miss profiler, know that about me already?’’ He placed his hands behind his head and leaned deeper on one of the back pillows. His position was relaxed but something told you to not risk going for the gun. It might even be a trap anyway.

’’March, 30.’’ he surprisingly answered after a short silence.

‘March...Weren’t Pisces in March? Nah, this man ain’t no Pisces...Too unhinged...What’s next...Oh.’ you closed your eyes in frustration, ’... Aries.’

’’Great, freaking Fire Sign. Of course you are.'’

You weren’t sure if you should listen to that type of radio podcast more often or 

never again.

when you find out your signs are not the greatest match ever 

[merakiaes]

Forbidden - Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman

Pairing: Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This is a bit smutty at the end, extremely slow-burning and uneventful and I’m not happy at all with the outcome of this but I still hope you like it. Let me know what you think and send in more Sad Eyes requests xx Not proofread and Spanish translations at the end!

Wordcount: 4287

Summary: When in a forbidden relationship, the best thing might not be to make out right outside the house in which the person you’re most desperately trying to hide it from lives. Or is it? 

The human mind was designed to always crave what it couldn’t have, to be lured in by the forbidden and make its host do anything in their power to get it.

There was just a certain charm about it, about the forbidden, that made it so unspeakably desirable, forbidden pleasures being loved immoderately while when they were lawful, they didn’t excite the same kind of desire.

That’s why, when you reached seventeen, you started developing a certain kind of attraction for your brother’s right hand man and best friend.

You had known Sad Eyes for as long as him and Oscar had been in the Santos together and you had never seen him as anything but another annoyingly protective older brother.

He was older than Oscar by three years, making him twenty-five by the time you were at your sweet seventeen, so a relationship between the two of you wouldn’t even be legal. But for some reason, that only made it even more exciting for you.

Your brother had always taken care of you and your younger brother Cesar, raising you like you were his own kids despite the fact that he was only five years older than you.

So naturally, he was fiercely protective over the two of you, determined to shield you from the bad parts of life, especially when it came to you.

The second you reached puberty and your eyes opened to your budding sexuality, he had you on a leash so tight you could barely breathe some days.

You weren’t allowed out by yourself, either Oscar or Sad Eyes constantly following you around wherever you went, and God forbid if you even thought about going on a date.

Boys were a big no-no, no matter how innocent, non-judgmental and kind-hearted they were. You weren’t allowed to go out with them, and they for sure weren’t about to step a foot inside your house because he knew what they were after, Oscar always told you.

They didn’t want your heart, he said, querían tu virginidad.

But little did he know, you weren’t his innocent little sister anymore.

After going through your very belated puberty, a lot of the younger Santos began looking at you differently. 

You had grown into your body, curves growing fuller and face losing its baby fat. You had opinions now, morals. You were fierce and taught yourself your own worth and not to take shit from anyone anymore.

Long story short, you were everything a cholo would want in a ruca, and their shameless staring and flirting didn’t go unnoticed by your brother.

He would tell them off every time he caught them looking, having them quivering with fear, and if, against all odds, someone was stupid enough to actually make a move on you, he would have them jumped, making it known extremely quickly that you were off-limits to all of them.

But while you were used to his intensely excessive, the way Sad Eyes would suddenly jump at everyone who looked at you for too long was new territory for you.

You were used to him being protective, but before, he had always been the one out of him and Oscar to keep his calm.

He always pretended he was doing it all in their leader’s name, telling them “You’re lucky Spooky ain’t here, fool”, but you were smart enough to see through it and conclude that he was one of the many Santos who now saw you in a different light.

And the more you thought about it, the more you noticed; the short, lingering glances whenever he walked past you, the small touches and acts of affection when Oscar wasn’t looking. And even when he was looking, he was so blinded by the trust he had for his best friend that he never batted an eye.

That’s what awakened the feeling of attraction toward him inside of you to begin with. He was always so close, always so available, just hanging around your house every day like a perfect opportunity to defy your brother’s ‘no boys for as long as you live under my roof’-rule.

True to your suspicions, Sad Eyes had, in fact, developed a new kind of attraction for you when you had gone through puberty.

He could barely recognize you anymore, it was like you were an entirely different person, with an entirely different pull; one he couldn’t resist no matter how much he tried in the end.

He had tried to a start, though, taking distance from you when he noticed your painfully obvious attempts to seduce him in order to test your theory. But it was hard for him to do so when he was the only one besides himself that Oscar trusted with you.

When he didn’t have time, he was always the one sent to babysit you whenever you went out, and he knew he couldn’t tell him no, because if he did, how the hell would he explain it? 

He wouldn’t have been able to, because he barely even knew what he was feeling, himself.

But he got that question all answered when he was tasked with going with you to the mall one day, just the two of you.

All these years, the two of you had never seen each other as anything other than siblings, and now all of the sudden, you were hurrying to undress each other in the back of his car while your lips moved together in perfect synchronization.

Yeah, it sounded disgusting, going from seeing each other as siblings and then heading into a relationship. But it was pure; figuratively speaking, that is, because the activities you partook in from then on were everything but.

He saw you in an entirely different light, falling head over heels for you when he realized that you were so much more than just Spooky’s little sister.

To a start, you were just using him to get back at said brother, having so much fun doing the exact thing he had forbidden you from doing.

But the longer you kept your little affair going, the more emotionally attached he got to you, and the more attached he got to you, the more his emotions showed through the way he handled you; so carefully, so genuinely, looking at you like you were the sun in his own little solar system.

In turn, you caught feelings for him, too, and suddenly everything got so much more complicated, everyone having failed to mention the fact that forbidden affairs were all fun and games until feelings showed up to the playground.

He was never supposed to mean this much to you, you were never supposed to fall so hard, or at all, for that matter, but you did. So had he, and suddenly, you were just fucked.

Sneaking around behind your brother’s back got so much more stressful from then on.

Before, the worst that could have happened if he ever found out was that he would forbid you to see each other which, with no strings attached, didn’t seem so bad.

But now… Now feelings had been caught and suddenly that possible outcome truly was the worst thing that could happen.

You no longer enjoyed the rush you had gotten the first few times. In fact, you didn’t feel it at all. All you felt now was anxiety. You were scared for the first time in a long time, scared to lose the man you had grown to love.

What you had originally planned to just be a few quick fucks turned into months, turned into over a year of seeing each other in secret.

So more than anything, you were scared for his sake, because if Oscar found out now, the consequences would without a doubt be a lot more severe than they would have been if he had found out at the beginning.

Both you and Sad Eyes knew it, and it was stressing him out. 

He was a Santo. He had been held at gunpoint and had his life threatened more times than he could count, but being beaten and even killed by the person who had been his brother for so many years awakened an entirely new kind of fear inside of him.

It made him doubt your relationship, and no matter how many times you tried convincing him that you would never let Oscar hurt him or force you apart, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that promise if he ever made up his mind to do so.

The clock was a little past ten at night when you headed out of your house on this particular Thursday evening.

You had been sitting in your bed, talking with Monse on Skype, when you had gotten the text from Sad Eyes telling you to come outside.

You had scoffed at the mere sight of it, your entire attitude turning sour, but nonetheless, you had bid your brother’s girlfriend goodbye, pulled on a pair of leggings to accompany your night slip and sneaked outside.

Oscar and Cesar were out doing God knows what so you didn’t necessarily need to hide from them right there and then, but the street you lived on was full of Santos and their nosy families and you knew that if any of them caught you, the word would reach your brother in no time.

And that was not something you wanted to happen.

“Spooky home?” Was the first thing Sad Eyes asked you once you had gotten into the passenger seat of his car. Not even a hi.

You scoffed at that, leaning your elbow on the car door and in turn leaning your cheek on your knuckles as you stared straight ahead, not even bothering to look at him. “No, but you still shouldn’t have parked so close to the house.”

“I needed to see you.” You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you ignored it. 

“Really?” You sniffed, glaring forward. “That’s not the impression I’ve been getting by you ignoring me for almost a week.”

He sighed from beside you but didn’t say anything, knowing you well enough by now that he just needed to let you get your anger out.

“I called you, every day.” You continued. “And I lost count of how many texts I sent you after the first fifty.”

His hand reached over the console to take yours in his. You didn’t stop him, but you didn’t squeeze his hand back when he squeezed yours either.

“It took everything in me not to call you back, mami. And every time I didn’t, I almost did.” He answered quietly. “You have no idea how hard it is to force myself to stop thinking about you. I couldn’t.”

You swallowed, turning even more irritated at the feeling of your body betraying your mind, relaxing at his touch as he caressed your knuckles. “Why does it feel like you’re going to hit me with a ‘but’?”

“We need to end this thing between us. I need to stay away from you. Spooky’s been getting too suspicious.” Ah, there it was, the same conversation that you’d had more times than you were able to count on both of your hands.

He would start contemplating your relationship and everything he knew, ignore you for a certain amount of time, return and tell you that you needed to break up, and it would always end the same way; with you in each other’s arms.

But despite knowing the whole routine by heart at this point, it never failed to make your blood bubble with anger.

“Then stay away.” You snapped back, finally turning your head to look at him with one quick turn of your head, and when doing so, your eyes instantly met his, finding that he had already been looking at you.

He shook his head. “No puedo.”

“That so?” You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and he sighed.

“Come on, bella. Don’t be like that. I had to go away.” He reached his hand out to touch your cheek, gingerly brushing a strand of hair out of your face while he scanned your face. “I would take a bullet for you any day but this shit is just stressing me out. When Spooky jumped that cabrón out of Los Santos for trying to feel you up I just-“

“It triggered your fight or flight instinct.” You interrupted, swallowing as you felt your glare turn soft.

His eyes flickered back up to yours and he nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you’re here now.” You pointed out, raising your head in a small nod at him. “So what changed your mind?”

His face pulled into a concentrated expression, his eyes staring straight into yours and his hand cradling your cheek. “I missed you, mami.” He replied quietly and you instantly felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname.

“Yeah?” You inquired, instinctively reaching up to touch the hand at your cheek and your other hand finally squeezing his back rather than laying limp.

He nodded and when he started leaning over the console, you followed his lead, your faces ending up only inches apart a second later. “You have no idea.”

Your breath started getting heavy from the intense proximity, feeling like he was staring straight into your soul. “How much?” You inquired again and he didn’t miss a beat.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” He brought his thump down to your lips, pulling at the bottom one lightly.

Your body immediately started reacting accordingly, your stomach erupting into a flutter of butterflies that went straight up to your chest and down to your core.

“I thought you said we needed to end things.” You breathed out, but meanwhile, your body was twisting in his direction almost as if working on autopilot.

“We do.” He agreed lowly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours. ”But I can’t stay away from you. You’re like a drug and there’s not a single sober vein left in my body. Shit’s dangerous, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m already addicted to you.”

You didn’t say anything, simply raising a hand of your own to his face to drag it over the tattoo on his neck and in response, he sucked in a long, satisfied breath, just like you would when taking a hit.

“What’s that you always tell me?” He asked then, opening his eyes again and meeting your gaze through slightly hooded lids.

Your lips instantly pulled into a smirk when seeing that his pupils had dilated, his brown irises now a shade darker, and only getting more so the more you caressed the side of his neck. “Better oops then what if.” You replied, and he nodded, the corners of his lips tugging slightly.

“Yeah.” He agreed, pulling his lower lip into his mouth briefly with his teeth while looking down at yours, before releasing it and looking back up into your eyes. “You’re irresistible.”

Your lips automatically pulled into a wide smile, without a doubt showing off the dimples both you and Oscar had inherited from your mom.

At the sight, his face turned sincere again, eyes turning soft as he kept caressing your face. “Thank you. For seeing me.” He spoke softly.

“I’m always here for you.” You smiled back, leaning into his touch. “You know that.”

He snickered, brushing his lips against yours ever so lightly. “Even when I’ve been acting like a pendejo for the past week.”

You hummed, chuckling along with him. “We both know this isn’t a normal relationship.” You pointed out and for the first time, his lips pulled into a smile to match yours.

“I missed you.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours in the shortest, most featherlight kiss.

You smiled at tingling sensation that went through your entire body at the feeling, inching even closer to him. “I missed you, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He chuckled, indicating to the attitude you’d had when first getting into the car, but he turned serious quickly again. “You’re too good for me, mi amor.”

His eyes left yours, turning his attention to the side as he brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your bare shoulder.

You analyzed his face, taking note of how the corner of his lip turned up slightly as he hooked his finger under the strap of your black night slip.

The next second, the thin strap was sliding down your upper arm with a simple brush of his hand, and the next thing you knew, your lips were locked together in a feverish kiss, a week’s worth of emotions spilling out.

Your hands immediately went to the back of his neck as your lips parted and your tongues touched together.

His hands were pulling you over the console and into his lap in no time and for once you found yourself extremely lucky that he never got around to fixing the broken honk, or else the entire block would have known what you were up to at this point with the way you were pressed against the steering wheel.

Your entire body was a mess of tingles and butterflies from the growing anticipation and you instinctively grinded down onto his denim-clad lap, feeling him growing underneath you almost instantly.

At the feeling of the growing friction, you grinded down again while breathing heavily into the kiss, and when his hands gripped onto your waist tightly, a guttural groan leaving his throat, you knew you were doing good.

You smirked against his lips, satisfied at the effect you always had him, how you could have him more or less eating out of your palm by such a small movement.

After a good minute of kissing, you finally broke apart to breathe and when doing so, your hands moved from the back of his neck to the front of his button-up, wasting no time in starting to work on the buttons.

While you occupied yourself with getting him out of his shirt, his hands moved down from your waist to grip at your hips, then proceeding to push you down harder on his crotch while latching on to your neck.

The feeling of his tongue brushing over your sweet spot had a moan leaving your lips in an instant, your head falling back at the feeling and your hands momentarily stopping what they were doing to pull at his collar.

“Don’t be so rough.” You muttered to him as he began sucking at your sweet spot, his hands now tugging lightly on your hair, but your body betrayed your words, letting out another moan.

He snickered against your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and shoulder as you pulled yourself together and returned to the task of unbuttoning his shirt.

“I thought you liked it rough, baby.” He mumbled into your shoulder, and the sound of his husky voice was enough to send another flurry of excited butterflies through your abdomen and down.

“You know I do, but I don’t think Oscar would appreciate it very much if he came home to see me marked when I was clean when he left.”

Your chest heaved up and down rapidly as you finally finished with his buttons, bringing his head up from your neck with your hands to make him look at you, putting on your best innocent face and asking: “Do you, papi?”

A dark expression crossed over his already aroused face, and a hiss left his lips when you grinded down onto his lap again.

“Shit.” He cursed in a breath, his head falling back into the headrest of the seat and his hands squeezing down harder at your hips.

You smirked in contentment and wasted no time in taking his face in your hands to pull him into a new kiss, fingers moving on to work on his belt.

You were so wrapped up in each other that you completely missed the red Impala returning and parking in the driveway of your house, and how the two people who had been riding in it caught sight of the familiar car parked just down the road.

It wasn’t until a loud bang on the hood of the car reached your ears that you noticed the two pair of eyes now watching you, the two of you jumping as far apart as you possibly could in the cramped position you were stuck in and your eyes instantly locking with your brother’s when you turned around to look out the windshield.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, fuck, is right! Get out here!” Oscar yelled at you as he pushed his hands off the hood of the car and stormed around it to the driver’s seat, having been able to read your lips.

Sad Eyes hurried to clasp his belt buckle back up while you pulled your strap back up on your shoulder and began shuffling off his lap when Oscar ripped the door open.

“Oscar-“

“Look, Spooky-“

You and Sad Eyes began at the same time as you scrambled out of the car. Your eyes were wide and guilt was written all over your face, while Sad Eyes’ face pulled into an expression that could only be described as ‘this is where I die’.

“Cállate!” Oscar had none of it, glaring at you and raising a hand to interrupt you while Cesar stood by his side awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you.

Both of you quietened down, your first instinct being to look at each other. And then, much to yours and everyone else’s surprise, Sad Eyes stepped up to his side and took your hand out of pure, protective instinct.

The small movement didn’t go unnoticed to your brothers and while you met Cesar’s worried eyes with an identical expression, both of you thinking Oscar was going to kill him, it was Oscar’s turn to surprise you by doing the exact opposite.

His face was still pulled into a fierce glare as he took a step back, eyes dangerously narrowed as they kept flickering between the two of you, before finally stopping on you.

Your eyes locked with his and Sad Eyes and Cesar remained silent as they watched him raise a pointed finger at you. “This is the first and last time you keep something like this from me.” He drawled slowly, holding his glare at you for a moment before moving his eyes and finger to his second in command. “Vosotros dos.”

Keeping his finger out, he took a step back forward and poked it into Sad Eyes’ chest roughly. Once, twice and thrice. 

“My sister isn’t a road gig along the way, she’s a fucking destination.” He spoke sternly, glowering at him. “If you’re fucking her, you’re staying with her. Entienden?”

Sad Eyes stared back at him with absolutely zero fear in his eyes, despite how scared he had been for this moment before. “I would never hurt her. La quiero.” He answered without missing a beat and Oscar nodded in response, content with his reply.

“You better.” He said, lowering his arm and taking a step back again, allowing Sad Eyes to slowly wrap his arm around your waist. “You coming inside, or are you gonna keep sneaking around in this piece of junk?”

Your brother kicked the tire of the car next to you and your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re not mad?” You asked, and instantly felt Sad Eyes squeezing down at your hip, silently telling you not to jinx it.

Oscar noticed this, his eyes flickering down to his hand briefly, but he didn’t do anything, simply looking back up at you.

“I’m not happy. But if there’s anyone I’d be okay seeing mi hermana being with, it’s my compa.” He raised his head in a nod of acceptance at Sad Eyes, and you instantly felt him relax beside you. “Now get your asses inside, we’re making albondigas.”

With one last look at you, he turned around and headed straight for the house, and only then did you notice the bag of groceries hanging from his hand.

Cesar, who had been quiet up until then, let out a chuckle once your older brother was out of earshot, causing you to turn to look at him.

“Guess the cat’s out the bag, huh?” He gave you a mocking smirk, balancing on the back of his heels. “Now I finally won’t have to cover up your tracks anymore.”

“You knew?!” You instantly exclaimed, your hand coming out to slap his chest before you could stop yourself.

He laughed, taking a step away from you while raising his arms in defense and shrinking into himself. 

“Do I have a pair of functioning eyes? Of course, I knew.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Oscar might think you’re still his innocent little sister but I know for a fact that you’re the devil.”

Sad Eyes laughed out loud at that, reaching the hand that wasn’t holding on to your waist out to bump against Cesar’s. “You got that right, Lil’ Spooky.” He agreed and you instantly glared at them.

“Stop ganging up on me, pendejos.” You scolded, holding your hand up to your chest to feel your heart beating frantically. “I just had the scare of my life and so did you, you should be pissing yourself, not laughing.”

But you still couldn’t help but get all warm inside at the sound of his laugh, knowing that he no longer had to be that ‘nothing’ when people asked you what you were thinking about.

Finally, you could be with each other without limits and not be forced to sneak around in the shadows, something you wouldn’t have thought possible even in your wildest dreams.

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

Querían tu virginidad – they wanted your virginity

No puedo – I can’t

Bella – beautiful

Cabrón – bastard

Pendejo – asshole

Mi amor – my love

Vosotros dos – both of you

Entienden? – You feel me?

La quiero – I love her

Mi hermana – my sister

Compa – buddy

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//catching cooties. sugawara koushi//

Warnings: Mild swearing.  Time-skip!Sugawara, so small spoiler warning

Word Count: 1.75K

Notes: I have so many requests to fill, but also Koushi hit me hard in the face with a book and said, “Love me.”  Who was I to refuse?  Koushi with kids?  Y E S 

Wallet.  Phone.  Keys.  Bag.  Coffee.  

It was a routine at this point.  Sugawara never left the house in the morning without those five things and it had been that way for almost four years.  He would tuck his wallet in his back pocket of his pants and his phone in the front.  The lanyard with all of his keys hung around his neck so he could back his bag for the day, sliding in folders of graded work, his book of lesson plans, his planner, anything he might have brought home to finish working on.  He would place a kiss on your cheek, your nose, then your lips before taking his thermos from you, a tired “I love you” taking the place of words of thanks.  

This shouldn’t have thrown him off as much as it did.  You had the day off and decided to sleep in rather than wake up with his alarm like you usually would, but after so long of getting ready in the bathroom together, laughing over toaster-waffles, and gentle good-bye kisses, not having you awake to start his morning really messed up his routine.  You weren’t peppering his face with kisses, trying to get him awake and when he would have inevitably rolled over, begging, “Five more minutes, please,” you didn’t lay on top of him and poke his cheeks until his eyes finally blinked open, that low groan leaving his lips as the morning sun filtered in through the blinds.  

The loud ringing of his alarm at 5:30 had you shoving your head under a pillow while your husband desperately reached around for the snooze button.  But, it seemed like hours had passed since then and yet, you and Koushi were still snuggled together under the warmth of the comforter.  Your eyelids lifted heavily, reaching for your phone on the nightstand.

Those small numbers on the screen had you sitting up straight in a matter of milliseconds, a hand on your husband's shoulder, desperately shaking him awake.  “Koushi, you need to get up.”

But, instead of heeding your words, he wrapped his arms securely around your waist, trying to nuzzle his face into your body.  Sugawara Koushi was lost to the world, sleeping like an absolute log, not like that was anything new to you. 

“Baby, it’s quarter after 7,” you say firmly, prying his hands off of you.  On a normal morning, he’d be getting ready to leave.  He’d be standing at the kitchen island, humming to himself while he packed his bag, but instead, here he was, still fast asleep.

But, oh, did the sound of that seven have his eyes opening at an alarming rate.  Sugawara reached for his phone, praying that maybe you were lying to him, that maybe this was just some kind of prank to get him up, but that ‘7:17’ was too real to ignore.  He threw the covers off, a frustrated “Shit!” being the only good morning exchanged.  You can’t remember the last time that you had seen him move so fast.  In less than five minutes, he was buttoning his shirt, jumping around the bedroom as if that would get his pants on any faster, a black belt being threaded through the loops and the light jingle of the buckle adding to the frantic atmosphere of the morning.  

Koushi fumbled around, opening and closing drawers, a pair of socks in his hand, but the stress never left his eyes.  “Where the hell did I put it?  Not in the bathroom.  Not on the nightstand,” he mutters under his breath, eyes scanning every possible surface in the room.  

“What are you looking for, Kou?”

“Have you seen my watch?”

“I think you put it on the coffee table last night.  I’ll go see,” you say, starting to get out of bed, but a pair of hands is pushing you back down to the mattress.

“No, you don’t have to work today.  You should relax, sweetheart.  Don’t worry about me.”  Even amidst all his panic, Sugawara Koushi still continued to be the loving man that had your heart fluttering all of those years ago.  The gentle tone to his voice and the soft kiss that he planted on your forehead was all it took to get you to lay back down, adhering to his wishes. 

It was nearly 7:45 before you heard the familiar checklist leaving your husband’s lips.  “Wallet.  Phone.  Keys.  Bag.  Coffee.”  He did the signature pat of each item, nodding as everything he needed was accounted for.  “Are we still getting lunch?” He asks, a hopeful smile on his face as he looks at you in the mirror, checking his appearance one final time.

“The noodle place on Sixth, right?”

“They have the best udon.  You’re going to love it!  I can meet you at noon, okay?”  Sugawara leans down to place his routine kisses to your face, each small peck leaving your head feeling fuzzy from his tender touches.

The sound of the door closing behind him should’ve been the end to the chaos.  You should have been able to rest your eyes for a few more hours and then go about enjoying your lazy day.  But, alas, it seemed like you had only just closed your eyes and your phone was already playing that familiar tone to signal Koushi’s incoming call.  “What’s up, Kou?” 

He must’ve heard the exhaustion laced in those few syllables, because you could almost see the sadness in his eyes from the sorrowful tone.  “I woke you up, didn’t I?  I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“You’re okay, baby.  What’s going on?  Is something wrong?”

“Well, kind of?  Hikari, give Ryouta the cap to his marker back, please,” he states, the sharp contrast in the voice that he used with you and his ‘teacher's voice’ coming through as he switched from addressing you to his students.  “Sorry about that.  Anyway, in all of the commotion this morning, I think I forgot my grade book.  Which wouldn’t be a big deal most days, but the end of the quarter is coming up and I’m already behind and-”

“I’ll be there soon, Koushi.”

He breathes a sigh of relief.  “What would I do without you,” he says, the traces of his smile filtering into your ear.

“Not get your grade book, that’s for sure,” you laugh, swinging your legs off the edge of the bed.  “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay.  Thank you, sweetheart.  It should be in the kitchen.  If not, check the dining room.  I would love to chat with you more, but I’m pretty sure the principal just walked by my door and saw me on my phone . . . So, I’m going to let you go, but I love you!”

“I love you too, Koushi.  I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

“Okay, thank you again, seriously,” he says quietly, waiting for you to hum your response before he ends the call, sliding his phone back into his desk drawer.  

Sugawara’s fingers laced through his hair as he leaned back in his chair.  He couldn’t remember the last time that he had had a day that was this out of sorts.  It seemed like everything that could go wrong, did.  As if almost being late wasn’t enough, he had spilled his coffee on his way to work, a brown stain would be exposed on the cuff of his white shirt if he hadn’t rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.  He had misplaced his lesson plans with all of his worksheets, a good explanation as to why his students had spent most of the morning doing arts and crafts rather than practicing sight words and their basic math skills.  But, nonetheless, Mr. Sunshine himself never let his smile fade, keeping his energy up to give his students the best day possible.  

The way his smile relaxed in relief at the sound of a knock on his classroom door was indescribable.  It was like a wave of comfort had washed over him knowing that you were right there just a few feet away.   There was a curious hush that fell over his students as they all turned their heads towards the door, markers and coloring pages now forgotten at the exciting prospect of a visitor.  Had Mr. Sugawara planned a surprise party for them?  Was one of them being called to the office to be picked up?  But, you can imagine their shocked faces when the door was swung open to reveal some random person that they had never seen before.  

Koushi, nonetheless, enveloped you in a tight hug, whispering gentle words of thanks against your skin over and over again as he took his grade book from your hands.  The feeling of your body melding perfectly against his, just as it always had, had him melting against you, desperate for the comforting feeling of your hands tangling in his hair or running up and down his arms, but he was at work.  He couldn’t relish in the sensation of your touch no matter how much he wanted to.

“Mr. Suga, sir?” One of his students piped up causing their teacher to pull away, that normal wide smile on his face.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Do you hug everyone who comes to your door?”

Sugawara laughed lightly as he shook his head.  He reached down to take your hand, his thumb tracing along the back of your knuckles.  The light tap of his fingers against the back of your hand in a silent, “I love you” made a small smile rise to your lips.  “I don’t usually hug people when I answer the door, but this is my wife, so I thought I would make an exception.”

Another student raised their hand, speaking only when Sugawara called their name.  “What’s a wife?”

“Well, it’s what people call the girl that you marry.”

“What if you marry a boy?”

“Then they’re called a ‘husband.’   So, Y/N is my wife and I’m her husband.  Does that make sense?”

“But, don’t girls have cooties?”  A little boy called out, scrunching up his features in disgust at the thought of getting anywhere near a girl.  

Koushi grings gently in your direction, bumping his shoulder playfully against yours.  “Some girls are just worth catching cooties for.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

39. "If he's the devil, I finally understand the appeal of hell." 79. "One more word and I'll stitch those lips of yours shut." I'm coming back with more requests 🤣

39. "If he's the devil, I finally understand the appeal of hell." 

79. "One more word and I'll stitch those lips of yours shut."

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

A/N - Since you didn’t specify who it is for, I’m choosing my current obsession aka Nicholas Scratch :)

Pairing: Nick x nephillim!reader

Summary: Deciding to be bold and visit hell, Y/N finds someone is need of help.

Warnings: ANGST

Word count: 1800+

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

All witches go to hell eventually, it’s the price of walking down the path of night. A necessary evil for a very long life filled with beauty and power - a combination very few could ever deny.

Y/N walked a different path, one very few were given directions to. Path of light was guaranteed only for nephillms and being the daughter of an archangel, Michael, Y/N found herself more powerful, pure and possibly the most ambitious than any witch that walked the earth.

While witches served the dark lord, Y/N sought to destroy him and all he hold dear. Hell could be her domain. She certainly wanted to try.

A portal to hell was easy to find, entering it ever easier considering a fallen archangel ruled it, but she felt weakened. Her powers were far from what they usually are and she couldn’t help but wonder if the danger she’ll face because of it might be worth a retreat...at least for a while.

“A peak won’t hurt, will it?” She whispers under her breath, convincing herself to at least see the throne of lies made by the king of hell. A part of her needed to see Lucifer for herself, to understand what she’s fighting against.

Mouth hanging open, she found her heart picking up speed as she noted the empty throne, glorious as she imagined it to be.

“Wow.” She breathes out, stepping out from her hiding spot without a second thought. Her steps are determined, the look of awe on her face unmatched by anything he had seen and while she was none the wiser, he made himself seen. 

“See something you like?” The low drawl of his voice tugs at her heartstrings and she feels it drop. Is it fear? Perhaps lust? It was hard to tell as she looked at the one speaking.

She hated her thoughts, but they were all coherent and in agreement: ‘If he's the devil, I finally understand the appeal of hell.’

He’s shirtless, his muscular body showing off every ab, every inch of his perfect skin. His dark hair frames his chiseled face perfectly, a little unkempt but the appeal is only stronger with the messy curls forming on top of his head. His forehead is sweaty, his eyes as dark as she suspected his soul is and just as tormented. 

There’s something in his tortured gaze, the black pools framed with long eyelashes that call out for the uncorrupted to make certain it is stained after a single touch of his sinfully big hands. The smirk is what truly brings her to her knees and while she knew better, Y/N nods.

“Can’t lie.” She folds her arms and smirks confidently. “The throne is up to my taste.” 

“Oh? I was certain you’d compliment the body suit I’m wearing.” Sticking his tongue out, he steps closer and Y/N steps back accordingly, holding in a breath that would escape along a scream. A forked tongue? A meat suit?

Lucifer is possessing someone and for once, the throne wasn’t on her mind.

“Who are you possessing?” She tried to act innocent, buy some time to form a plan. Could she really fight the devil for dominance in the name of a man she had first seen just a minute ago?

She wasn’t really sure.

“A warlock who sighed his soul over to me.” Raising an eyebrow, he folds his hands in front of him, just before the skimpy underwear he’s got on. 

“He sacrificed his life to save the world, if you can believe it.” Lucifer steps closer once again and she stands her ground, clenching her jaw to stop it from quivering.

“You sound almost”, she pauses to find the right words, cursing her anxiety for making it hard to converse, “impressed.” She raises an eyebrow too, daring him to speak more. 

“Nicholas Scratch showed a great deal of loyalty and courage...too bad it wasn’t shown for me.” Growling the last bit, Lucifer’s face darkens and Y/N’s heart sinks further.

Nicholas...The name suited him, but it made it harder for her. She couldn’t leave him behind. Not now.

“So why not release him?” Baiting him, Y/N remains impassive on the outside while a hurricane ravages her insides. “He’s of no use to you now.” She steps closer, trying to conjure all of her power. If she can leave a mark of an angel upon him, the devil would have to leave his body and she’d have just enough time to teleport back to earth where Lucifer can’t follow as easily.

“Why would I do that? Torturing him every second of every day is so fun!” Chuckling as Y/N’s left eye twitched ever so slightly, Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re in his body. It’s his territory. What if he wins and you’re but a forgotten goat inside a closed off hell?” Losing her temper wasn’t wise, but Y/N had no restrain. Longer she remained in hell, weaker she felt and while she knew it definitely isn’t her domain, she needed to save the warlock who didn’t belong there either. Not for a long while, at least.

However, her words irked the dark lord, causing his charming facade to fade as well. "One more word and I'll stitch those lips of yours shut." 

Holding her breath, Y/N knew it was a matter of time before she lost her advantage and Lucifer realized her identity. So, she mustered all her energy, every last bit of her essence channeled into her right hand and when she fixed her gaze on him, she didn’t fail.

Smiling, almost viciously, Y/N jumped on Nicholas’ body, her right hand landing on his left shoulder and the scream erupting from him echoed in every corner of hell.

She felt the body shaking, held onto him with all she had while he all but convulsed and when she heard him coughing, she looked in time to see a black matter leave his weakened form.

Mumbling a spell, a flash of bright light set hell into a frenzy, temporarily blinding any demon in its vicinity. 

Opening her eyes, she found herself back in her home, Nicholas’ body in her arms. As he collapsed, taking her down with him, Y/N felt her heart crack with worry.

What if it killed him? Demons tend to kill their host, so what if Lucifer killed him too?

Her lips tremble as her fingers press above his carotid, awaiting anything to take the weight off her shoulders. Blood thumping against her fingers drew a relaxed sigh, one that made her giggle with relief. 

“Thank God.” She exclaimed, ignoring tears pricking at her eyes. Nicholas is safe and she had to make sure he stayed safe. 

Spelling him onto the bed, she tended to his fragile body and most importantly, his mind. Reaching him wasn’t possible as his thoughts were erratic, but she did find one important clue - where she needs to bring him back...to who she needs to bring him back to.

Sitting back in her chair, Y/N couldn’t help but shed a tear. 

Nicholas felt familiar, somehow drew her to him and while she could pretend she didn’t care for him, her heart already had a place for him. It��s angel’s nature to love fiercely, to recognize kindred spirits and she never met anyone more suitable for her. 

“Pity.” She smiles though the pain, an affliction that comes with letting go of someone she knew would have changed her life for the better. He could have been her one - someone to love truly, madly, deeply, but she saw her - Spellman, as he called her. His heart wasn’t free and unattached and he would never love an angel.

He’s a warlock, walking the path of night and destruction and she will always be Michael’s daughter, meant to be a beacon of light and hope. Darkness and light don’t mix, she knew that. He’d snuff out her light if she allowed herself another moment of weakness...of love.

“You won’t remember this.” Her frown deepens and she sighs heavily, leaning over him with lips pressed together. “You will never know what we could have been, or what I did for you.” Leaning in, she allows her lips to tremble before pressing them against his forehead with a tenderness she didn’t know she possessed. 

“It’s too late for me. I will always wonder how you are or if you’re safe, but you’ll never be damned with the thought of me.” A sad smile appears on her lips as she feels the tears form once more. 

“Why is it so hard to let go of what isn’t even mine?” Resting her forehead against his, the tip of her nose brushing just past his, her grief of what must be done dissipating with determination to do right by him.

“I hope you find happiness.”

And in a blink, Nicholas was back, laying next to unsuspecting Sabrina.

Opening his eyes, Nick sat up with a gasp, looking around with a wild look in his dark eyes. “Where?” He breathes out, convinced someone else was beside him and it was definitely not Sabrina.

“Hold on, Nick. I’ll get help!” Sabrina jumps to her feet, but Nick is quicker.

“Where is she?!” He can’t remember much, but he remembers a warmth, a sense of safety he never felt before.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. Nick, calm down!” Sabrina stepped closer, wanting to hold him - to simply take his pain away and he allows her the intimacy of a hug. It just doesn’t feel right. Not as it felt...he just can’t remember when or with who. All he knows is that someone had helped him out of the mess he made and he was safe. 

Perhaps it wasn’t real and Lucifer made him hallucinate a woman made of light, but he could have sworn he felt her lips on his skin. He could have sworn he heard her soothing voice guide him through the dark.

“What the?” Sabrina frowns, pushing him away just to stand and look at his shoulder, frowning with concern. “There’s a...hand print on your shoulder!” She exclaims, moving out of the way so he’d see it in the reflection and despite the pain he feels inside, Nicholas smiled as tears formed in his eyes.

“She was real.” And he had a clue how to find her.

[gloves94]

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 1

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: "You have everything you've ever wanted." "No." He said softly. "Not everything..." His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. "I guess not." She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes. 

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

"Uncle!" The young prince roared exasperated.

For once his uncle stood on the deck of the ship being quiet and distant. His eyes gazed out into the vast blueness that expanded so far you couldn't tell where the ocean ended and where the sky began. He wore a solemn expression on his face, both of his hands tucked inside of his sleeves. His eyes clouded with a rare sadness.

"I'm so close to capturing the Avatar! I'm going to lose his trail and we are losing precious time! I haveto regain my honor!" Prince Zuko barked. The dishonored banished Prince of the Fire Nation barked.

Iroh also known as the Dragon of the West, the retired general who had been disgraced at walls of Ba Sing Se remained pensive and let out a deep breath he had been holding.

"Why do we even have to go to the colonies?!" The frustrated prince threw his hands over his head.

"I already told you my dear nephew. I've received somber news. The sun has set on a dear friend Sencha's life. And so we must attend the service and show our respects to his spirit and his family."

"This is pointless!" Prince Zuko breathed out a cloud of fire, his exasperation boiling in the pits of his stomach. How he sometimes wished he could just shove his uncle into a sailboat and send him to out so that he could move on with his life and actually have a shot at regaining his honor. Why couldn't his uncle just go by himself?

Zuko was too blinded to see the pain in his uncle's amber eyes.

"Patience," Iroh sighed wisely and stroked his gray beard. "If you allow it, the howling wind shall carry you to your destiny. Who knows? You might encounter something interesting in the colonies."

The prince remained silent.

"Perhaps even the Avatar?" Iroh baited glancing at his nephew from the corner of his eyes.

Zuko gripped the railing tightly, his body tense. His uncle turned to look at him and flashed him a weak smile before squeezing his nephew's shoulder.

xxx

The prince's military vessel docked at the port of Yu Doa.

The city of Yu Dow was one of the first Fire Nation Colonies. It was known for it's unique architecture and surprising co-existence of Fire and Earth bending cultures as near equals. Because of this Yu Dao was the Fire Nation's most powerful asset and wealthiest colony. It was also famously known for having the finest weapon craftsmen in the world.

"This place is... odd," Zuko observed as they made away across the city.

No royal had set foot in the colonies since the war began one hundred years ago and it was safe to say that people from the mainland thought less of those from the colonies. Sneering at them, calling them colonials, and laughing at stereotypes.

The city was quiet, its citizens wore funerary colors and expressions of mourning. All windows were closed and shops were closing early.

"Of course, they are mourning their governor."

The Prince also noted how the people in the streets did not shy away from them like others would've back in the mainland. They neither bowed nor cowered with disrespect. The prince and his uncle entered the gates of the golden palace and were received by an escort who lead them inside the building. The architecture was a mixture of emerald green and square shapes typical of Earth Kingdom architecture with contrasting bold golden pikes, maroon carvings, and large figures and carvings of crimson and golden dragons on the walls which were typical of Fire Nation architecture and culture.

"General Sencha was appointed as the Vice Royal Governor of Yu Dao sometime after your grandfather Azulon rose to the throne. He was a brilliant general, brave, courageous, a good friend and also a worthy Pai Sho adversary," Iroh said with a smile as they were lead through a massive pair of intricately carved golden doors.

"His people, they mourn him. It's almost as if they care-" Zuko was interrupted. "They do," Iroh nodded. "Fire Lords don't often concern themselves with the Fire Colonies once they are tamed. Sencha took it upon himself to provide a life of equal opportunities to both Fire and Earth Kingdom citizens. Together they worked to build and grow the city making it the most powerful asset of the Fire Nation abroad. Because of that Yu Dao paved the way for its own culture and traditions to blossom. That's why this place seems so different to you."

For a moment Zuko thought about his grandfather, Azulon. Besides other aristocrats and the military it had been just another day when he passed. His people hadn't mourned him, he hadn't been missed by many. He certainly didn't miss him. The citizens of the Fire Nation didn't seem to care much for him, then again, he had been a cruel man. It was a drastic contrast to the ambiance in Yu Dao and the respect its people had for their passed leader.

It was then that they entered the heart of the governing room where the service was being held. It was dark and the room was barely illuminated by numerous candles which were burning at different heights. At the center hoisted above a bed of white arranged wild flowers and lilies lay a fine wooden coffin. There were few government officials and family in the private service. The disgraced prince and the retired general approached the front to pay their respects. Iroh knelt before the bed and meditated for a moment on his dear friend's memory. Zuko nodded his head in respect and he patiently waited for his uncle to stand. His eyes scanned the crowd as he attempted to distract himself, not wanting to linger his gaze on the coffin before him. It was then that a spot of red in the darkness captured his attention.

His eyes froze on a person with a hair color he had never seen before. He had never seen an individual with hair the color of fire. Auburn, red, maroon, he couldn't place his finger on the shade. The dim light made it even harder. She appeared to be around his age. Her blazing hair was wavy and reached down past midback, half of it up in the matter that was considered fashionable in the Fire Nation. Her expression was one of pure desolation as a woman whom he assumed to be her mother held her close while holding her hand.

"Prince Zuko!" Iroh whispered harshly elbowing him snapping him out of his train of thought. As he did the girl looked up and their eyes met. His lingered on her face for a second.

Her mother turned as did the man Zuko assumed to be her father. He turned his head sharply ready to walk away, but instead Iroh turned the opposite way and began walking in the way of of the Vice Royal family.

Xxx

"I-I think I need some air," gasped the girl as she took in a deep breath suddenly feeling claustrophobic. Her soul felt numb with the absence of her dear grandfather. She felt dizzy and partly nauseous. She had shed her tears and her eyes were dry from crying so much, over the past couple of days. Her nostrils felt irritated from blowing so many tissues. Her mom gave her hand a gentle squeeze and a sad smile before letting her go. She noted the two strangers that were approaching to pay their condolences.

Distraught she didn't bother in engaging with them or even checking out their improper attire. From the looks of it they were probably military from the Fire Nation mainland. She stepped out quickly suddenly feeling like she couldn't breath due to the stench of flowers, incense and burning candles. She in took a large gulp of fresh air when she reached the small garden outside the governing room. She sat on a stone bench that was placed before a small koi pond fountain and under a blossoming plum tree. Just a few days ago she had been sitting in this same bench with her grandfather. She had been holding onto his arm tightly, he had given her one of the plum blossom flowers, tucked it into her hair and was telling her stories about her late grandmother.

And now- he was gone.

She felt fat tears begin to swell in her eyes as her lungs felt heavy with woe. She had done enough crying. Death was part of life.

"Loss is part of life,"her grandfather had said to her sagely. "But nothing worth keeping is every truly lost."

Her tears certainly wouldn't bring him back. She sucked in a deep breath and sat up straight as an arrow, just as she had been taught her entire young life. Holding her head up with pride.

She didn't know how long she had been out here. Holding her breath, trying to hold it all together.

"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most beautiful and rare of all," a wise voice interrupted. Her ears had to be playing tricks on her.

It was her grandfather.

"W-What?" She turned bewildered.

Automatically a cascade of tears streamed down her unblinking amber eyes.

It wasn't.

She almost felt as if she had heard her grandfather. She wished it had been him. She sternly believed that those had been his words through a different voice. One that was unfamiliar to her. The man standing beside her was older. His hair was aged and gray and he was large. He seemed like a pleasant person carrying an air of peace and gentleness around him. The kind that his grandfather might've kept around for counsel or as a part of the governing cabinet. He was the one that had walked in late, with the boy with the scar on his face that had been glaring at her during the service.

"Blooming season can be powerful, glorious and intoxicating, but tragically short-lived," the man said wisely. "It is a visual reminder that our lives, too, are fleeting."

Who was this man that spoke in riddles with his wise tongue? Where had he come from?

"They also signify most important above all love." He reached down and with care picked up a lost flower. Lifting it up he offered it to her with kindness. Ceasing her crying the girl took the flower from the wise man.

"Thank you," she said quietly keeping her head lowered in respect.

"You must be Tsai, Sencha's granddaughter," it wasn't a question. He knew who she was. She nodded. The man lowered his head bowing before her. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Your grandfather was a good man, he was also one of my closest friends. Strange that he would pass on such a pleasant day," he commented raising up to view the clear sky above.

"My name is Iroh," he introduced himself. "I have come here with my nephew to pay my respects."

Tsai rose to her feet and bowed her head in equal respect. Of course she had heard of the famous General Iroh, the Dragon of the West. Afterall he had been first in line for the throne of Fire Lord just a couple of years ago.

"General," she acknowledged respectfully.

"There you are!" A woman of similar features to the girl approached the two. She wore a matching dark tunic and her hair was light brown and her eyes were a minty green.

"How embarrassing," she breathed. "I certainly hope Tsai wasn't bothering you with any nonsense General," her mother said as she wrapped her arms around her daughter's shoulders holding her close.

Being of Earth Kingdom decent Sanyu, her mother, had always been hyper conscious of her and her children's behavior. She couldn't afford for them to be shunned because of their Earth Kingdom heritage.

"Not at all," He smiled kindly. "And just Iroh, please."

"Has it-" Tsai turned asking her mother. She simply nodded. The body had been ignited in flames as it was customary in Fire Nation funerary tradition. Her expression twisted into a tormented one. "I really do apologize that you've come to visit us on such a somber occasion," her father stepped forward. It was the new Vice Royal Governor of Yu Dao. He had introduced himself as Azah. "It would truly be an honor if you could join us for lunch. It is not often that we receive such as esteemed guests. Specially royalty from the mainland."

"Uncle, send for the ship to undock. We don't have any more time to waste," a voice rudely spat into the conversation.

It was that rude boy who had been glaring at Tsai during the service. She eyed him warily as she approached her and her family in the plum-blossom garden. The governor's eyes narrowed at the royal's rude behaviors. Sanju seemed oblivious to this.

"Please excuse my nephew. We'd love to join you," Iroh nodded. "Tsai, have you introduced yourself to Prince Zuko?" Her mother spoke tensely slightly grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her towards the prince.

"Uncle-" The other protested.

"Zuko you're always talking about honor. We are going to stay and join our host the Vice Royal Governor and his lovely family for some tea and dinner." Iroh grinned cheekily as he grabbed his nephew's arms tightly and slightly shoved him forward towards the other teen.

Both were awkwardly pushed to face each other as their families observed the impromptu match-making meeting all with knowing eyes and discrete growing grins. Tsai's older brother Mecha snickered from the back, she wanted to turn and glare at him but was instead once again nudged forward by her mother who was glaring daggers at her and poking an invisible knife at her back.

Her grandfather had just died, could they cut the match-making and courtship some slack?

The prince stood half a head taller than her. Maybe he appeared to be taller because of the way he wore his dark hair, in a tall ponytail, most of his head was cleanly shaved off and Tsai realized that he hadn't been glaring at her. That's just the way his face was, it was stuck in a mean scowling mug with suspiciously narrowed eyes. However the most striking feature was half of his face, which was scarred by fire in an ugly branding on his skin. Of course she had heard stories and rumors about the banished prince. Most girls her age would giggle and say he was extremely handsome, other rumors said that he got his scar in a training accident. However, it seemed that his temper and infamous bad character were no myth.

"Tsai of Yu Dao," She bowed down her head lightly bangs slightly falling forward as she did. "It is an honor your highness."

xxxx

AN: Woooooooooo, this Avatar Netflix revival is doing things to me. I think I LOVE Zuko more than I did when I was watching the series as a child. I'm super excited to see where this story goes. I'm almost done writing it at chapter 30 and I've grown super attached to these two characters.

Let me know what you guys think and send me some love!

Best,

xxx

First: [Here] Next:  https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621143206633046017/sunburn-prince-zuko-2

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

[themilky-way]

as the hours pass {loki odinson}

gif credit: littlemisssyreid

pairing: loki odinson x fem!reader (might be considered gender neutral, though)

summary: he afraid of what he feels, so he does the only the thing he knows how to do: lie. based on this ask.

warnings: super shitty angst lol cuz it was 9 pm and my brain cells were FRIED. i think that’s it?? fluff at the end tho so we good 

author’s note: this took me a whole mf week to write which isn’t that bad but i have no time now and it’s kinda scary. yolo tho lol 

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when tony had initially proposed a weekly movie night for the entire team, not a single person would’ve imagined anything like this. a large projector had taken the place of the regular flatscreen television, consequently lining up in all the four corners of the penthouse windows. couches and reclining chairs compiled in a large circle instead of being adequately spread out amongst the common room, and they’d all been filled by at least one avenger. to those wishing to participate, jobs and duties had been assigned the week prior, the list ranging from making popcorn to dimming the lights. it was organized-sophisticated, in a way-how it had all been brought about, and to say the majority of the residents living in tony’s multi billionaire penthouse were surprised was quite the understatement. 

over the course of a few weeks, everything began falling into place. reminders didn’t need to be set anymore, and the designated tasks weren’t viewed as chores. natasha made sure to pop three full bags of delicious kernels- ensuring thor’s bowl had just enough butter to lick his fingers clean when he finished-while steve arranged a variety of pillows and blankets around the seating space. soon enough, fading shades of purple would ignite the obscurity of the living room-all due to the led lights binded to the borders of its ceiling-and either a horror or comedy film would commence. 

in such a manner, your spot could always be found on the same peculiar couch, next to the same peculiar individual. god, at that. to literally go to hell and back, to get placed in a home that wasn’t his home with people who wanted his head wasn’t particularly an easy life to lead. he wasn’t a man of sentiment, either, nor one who engaged in communal activities, so you took your part as a good samaritan and kept him company. the seat next to loki had been unreserved, with not even thor to take its place, and you shuffled away from a very frightened wanda to settle beside him. he'd been neutral, annoyed perhaps. if a stranger came to sit next to you out of the blue, wouldn’t you be, too? 

“mind if i sit here?” a mild pause signaled a response, and the shrug of his shoulders gave it away. “i’m not really enjoying the movie, and the space looked kinda cozy,” you added. 

after you had thoroughly felt the soft cushion of the seat and all its comfort, it was rather difficult to stray away from it. every friday evening, the striped bedding of the couch awaited your presence, and a pillow of an identical design lay by the armrest. loki always got there first, a bowl of ice containing two ice cream bars in his grasp, and if the belief that he had ever been remotely inconsiderate damaged your reasoning, the chocolate chip cookie he gifted you at the start of every night proved you wrong. 

if loki truly had to be honest with himself-his father, if he was peering down from above-the companionship you bestowed upon him didn’t upset him as he presumed it would. he half-expected his cold and antisocial nature to speak for itself, to grab hold of the kindness of your heart, crush it, and scatter its pieces so your blind hands would have to search aimlessly for them. for him, the opportunity would’ve been so effortless, so relieving in its own wicked sense, but you had already known that from the minute the tips of your sock-clad toes had walked right up to his. your words had been honey to him, simple yet profoundly eloquent that had dripped away every vowel on his tongue. the warmth that encircled you caromed over to him, and then his icy fingers became regular fingers, and his wintry complexion no longer overpowered the person he strived to be.

the thought alone of developing a kinship alarmed the presumably mischievous man, and when time, the most rewarding elements of his beloved universe, presented him with such a miraculous creature, he went into a comatose. the object of his interest was no longer an object, it was a person, an individual that appeared to envelop his nonexistent grace as if they depended on it. so his beautiful, virulent mind, as plentiful of wisdom as it was, conceived what it regarded to be the only correct answer. 

the seconds of long anticipated hours grew legs, and urged fragments of minutes to run off. solitude embraced the area loki used to adore being in, and his absence planted a seed of confusion within the person always seated beside him. the following nights were mindless for you, even when wanda had selected your favorite films to view, your headspace drifting off to the god who wasn’t watching it with you. interactions between your team lessened. refusing a handful of thor’s popcorn became a habit, and although he questioned you about it, he never brought it up again. then, a month flew by before you could cognitively process it. loki’s eyes hardly ever witnessed daylight now, or you for that matter. more often than not, his ear perked up at the soft squeaks of sneakers before their shadow halted in front of his door. the air in his lungs would almost escape from him entirely, lips pursed so tightly he felt them turn white, before mere seconds later distorted voices trailed your feet away from the barrier that separated him from you. foolish, he’d been foolish to deceive you so childishly. what could he possibly tell you now, that wouldn’t lead you to scurry away from him?

tonight, the best remedy to get some rest was to fix some tea. a good read seemed suitable enough, too, so a copy of The Scarlet Letter decorated your pillow. you trusted your weary legs to navigate you to the kitchen while your brain busied in forming unrealistic scenarios, as silly as it sounds, and you were doing fine and dandy until a conversation reeled you back in. an all too familiar voice-one you hadn’t heard in so long-was speaking, ranting, about things that bothered him? yeah, that was it. 

it was wrong to what you did at that moment, your dear mother had taught you better than this, but the never ending words spewing from loki’s mouth had glued the soles of your feet to the chilling tiles. 

a heartbeat shriveled to nothing, a weighty ache engulfing it in all its mighty glory, and everything you ever came to know became deception. “...ridiculous! i’ll tell you one thing, brother, and that is that they’re absurd for thinking i’m better.”

a booming retort-thor’s-defended you. “you’re ridiculous. they’re good to you and you’re going to throw it away because you’re afraid?” he neatly placed his mug on the counter before his firm hand landed on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed in reassurance. “if you keep pushing people away, you’ll outlive centuries-worth of joy.” loki flicked it away. “do they truly matter to you? enough for you to stop hurting them?”

the wall pressing into your shoulder obscured the visual of loki nodding his head. the tea you craved for now sounded disgusting, and no matter how hard you blinked your eyes, a puddle threatened to hover over them. you began toying with the sleeves of your sweater, hating the emerald shade you chose for it, and your head drooped down to focus on its marbled designs. odd shapes helped center your emotions, too much that you missed a figure passing by the entry. 

did you jump? yes. did loki jump? also yes. 

“what-why are you-why are you standing there?” his voice was shaky, concerned. he looked at your figure over once, his nervous glare lingering a little too closely at the pigment of your shirt, before he focused on you. it was hard for him to miss your anguish. the question his brother had previously asked him looped in his head, and by odin yes-yes, you mattered to him. 

“did you hear what i said?” he gulped. “all of it?”

your pupils were fully dilated, mouth inconceivably dry, so you muttered a tiny “yeah.”

“it’s alright, though. i’m not-i’m not mad, or sad, or whatever. i get it.” with enough strength, you pushed your body away from where you’d been cornered and started your leave. a tightening on your wrist stopped you. 

“please don’t go.” loki never begged, and he always trusted his ego to prevent him from doing it, but he’d inflicted grief on his most treasured midgardian, and he’d have to remedy that. “please.” 

“loki, hey it’s alright. i’ll leave you alone if that’s what you need.” he held you tighter before pulling your palm up to meet his chest. “what are you-look, i’m sorry-”

“you’re sorry?” he cut you off. “i’m sorry, don’t you see what you do to me?” the pad of one of his own hands moved to cover the back of yours to push it further onto his covered heart. it was beating faster than godly possible. if he were anyone else, maybe he was nearing a heart attack. “i do believe you’re the first one to do that.”

you ceased touching him before beginning to speak, but he knew your apologies, your questions, before they even escaped your lips. he fumbled on his words for some time, thorough confessions of his feelings never came as easily as he hoped, but he managed to get the point across. his obsidian, curly locks drizzling over his tiresome face distracted you, and his enticing features, his slurred attempts to achieve your forgiveness forced a tiny grin onto your mouth.

“it’s okay, honey,” you extended a hand outward in greeting. “let’s just start over, yeah?”

he choked on a breath at the name, and then two clammy hands melded into one, and everything was alright for once. “i’m loki, and the pleasure’s all mine, darling.”

[khoicesbyk]

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 3,680 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

Song And Story Inspiration: In The Still Of The Nite-Boyz II Men | Give Me One Reason-Tracy Chapman | Nobody’s Supposed To Be Here-Deborah Cox

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @choiceslady @queenjilian @bebepac @txemrn @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @hopefulmoonobject @lucy-268 @pixie88 @otherworldlypresents  @choicesficwriterscreations

TW: kidnapping. Read at your own discretion.

Chapter 5.) In The Still Of The Night.

In the still of the night.

I held you.

Held you tight.

'Cause I love.

Love you so.

Promise I'll never.

Let you go.

In the still of the night.

As she slept peacefully in her new bed, Naia dreamed that she was running through the forest. She felt strong. She felt invincible. She could feel the wind on her face as she ran. It was exhilarating. She felt free. When she came out of the woods, she was a wolf. And when she looked up, she saw him. It was the wolf she had seen in her dreams before. It was him. When he howled she did the same.

That’s when she woke up. She sat up in bed, panting with her heart thundering in her chest. She looked around her room in order to get her bearings. That’s when something compelled her to look out her bedroom window. And when she looked out the window she saw a wolf staring up at her. When she shook her head, the wolf was gone. The image of the wolf was still in her head when she went back to sleep.

After waking up later that morning and taking a good hot shower, Naia couldn’t get Roman out of her head. She wanted to feel his arms wrapped her again. He was seductive and mysterious and she wanted more. She could still feel his warm breath on her neck and the closeness of his body to hers. She thought it was insane but never actually questioned why she thought that way.

When she went to the kitchen for breakfast, she noticed a note on the counter. It was from her uncle.

“Good morning. Gone fishing. Be back later. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. Uncle Z.”

When she opened the fridge, she grimaced because there wasn’t much in there to begin with. When her stomach rumbled she knew she had to change that.

“Okay well since a home cooked breakfast is out of the question. I think I’ll try the breakfast place I saw when I drove into town. Also I’ll do some grocery shopping while I’m at it. Because this right here ain’t hitting on nothing.” She thought to herself.

With keys and wallet in hand Naia set off for town. After shopping at Banner’s Family Market, she was just about starved and stopped by Tucker’s diner.

After getting a table she sat down and looked over the menu. As she looked over the menu, someone was watching her. Or so it looked that way.

I remember.

That night in May.

The stars were bright above.

I'll hope and I'll pray.

To keep.

Your precious love.

At another table, Trent was eating breakfast with a few members of his team when Naia walked in. He felt a pull towards where she was sitting.

“Yo T! What is it?” Jenkins, one of his team members asked.

“I don’t know. Something weird just happened. Like she just walked in.” He replies shaking his head.

“Man! Please tell me that you’re not talking about that so-called dream girl again!” Sergei said to him.

“If you must know, yes I am.”

His crew collectively groaned.

“Dude it’s been almost a whole 2 months! Let it go already!” Hugo told him.

“As I’ve told you idiots before: I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t? Which one is it T?” Jenkins asked him.

Trent never answered. He just sipped his coffee. Even though he’s blind he could feel her presence. After going over the menu for a solid 20 minutes, Naia decided on the Lobster Eggs Benedict and a sweet tea. Just as she was about to put her order in, Layla walked in.

“Layla! Over here!” She called out to her new friend.

Trent nearly dropped his cup of coffee. Hearing her voice in real time both scared and excited him.

“You almost dropped your cup. You okay man?” Jenkins asked him.

“Huh? Yeah! I’m…I’m good.” Trent replied, while trying to hide the crack in his voice. With his hearing being better than most, he tuned into her conversation

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Layla asked Naia as she sat down across from her.

“Since my uncle has gone fishing, I decided to do some grocery shopping and I was starving so here I am. What are you and the little one up to?” Naia replies.

“The same thing as you. Have you ordered yet?” Layla asks.

“Just about to. What about you?” Naia replies.

“Oh girl! They already know what I want. A pitcher each of cranberry juice and ice water, their triple berry cheesecake parfait, double blueberry pancakes and a ham, spinach and swiss omelette.” Layla replied.

Naia’s eyes went wide.

“You’re actually gonna eat all of that?!” She asked.

“I mean…I am eating for two, ya know?” Layla replied, rubbing her belly. The two shared a laugh as they continued their conversation.

Trent turned his attention back to his team just as the twins came strolling in. His boss Bernard Sayre is a blowhard who only cares about 3 things. Making money, being powerfully unstoppable and his twins Dylan and Tyler. The twin terrors as they’re known around town, just love getting their way no matter what they do or say. And although it annoyed Trent, he was powerless to stop them.

“Heyyyyy boys!” Dylan called out to Trent and his team. Her voice sounded like banshee screech.

“And here comes daddy’s two brats…” Jenkins groaned as the twins approached.

“So what are you guys up to?” Tyler asked.

“We’re eating. Why?” Trent asks.

“Because we were hoping that you’d join us at Buck’s for the Friday night sing a long and pool.” Tyler replies.

“You’d have to ask Layla if we’re allowed back in. Especially after what happened the last time.”

The twins groaned.

“Well she’s sitting at a table with some girl. So I guess it’s worth a shot.” Dylan said with a sigh.

Naia watched in amusement and shock, as she watched Layla polish off everything she ordered with ease.

“I can not believe that you ate EVERYTHING!”

“Told you!” Layla replied as she swiped her finger on the inside of her parfait cup.

“Uhhhhh Layla…”

“Huh?” She asked.

“It’s all gone! Put the cup down!” Naia replies.

The two laughed as the twins approached.

“Hiiiiiiiiiii Layla!” They say in unison causing Layla to groan.

“Ohhh and hi Layla’s friend!”

“What do you two want?” She asked the twins.

“Weeeeeellllllllllll…we were hoping you’d let us have Friday sing a long and pool.” Tyler said in a cloyingly sweet voice.

“After the shit you pulled the last time? NO!” Layla hissed at them.

“Come on Layla! Our dad paid for the damage!” Tyler whined.

“Yeah he did…after I threatened to sue his sorry ass!”

“Please!” The twins begged.

Layla rolled her eyes then replied, “fine! You can come tonight.”

“Thank you!” The twins squealed.

“Whatever. Go away!”

“You don’t have to be rude!” Dylan said.

“Which would you rather: me be rude or me ban you two from ever stepping foot into MY bar?” She asked them.

The twins stood stuck.

“I thought so. Now again: go away!”

The twins turned on their heels and stomped away. When they were far enough away for her pleasure, Layla turned her attention back to Naia.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who are they?” Naia asks.

“Tyler and Dylan Sayre. Their dad Bernard owns Sayre Energy and Power. They’re a public nuisance.” Layla replies.

“They look harmless to me.”

“That’s because you haven’t been around them when they’re drunk.”

“Touché.”

“I guess since they’re having Friday sing a long and pool, you should come too.”

“Me?” Naia asks.

“Yes you! It’ll be fun as long as those two aren’t drinking.” Layla replies.

“I don’t know about all of that.”

“Also there’s normally a $1,000.00 cash prize for first place.”

“Why didn't you lead with that?!” Naia asks.

“Because Dylan normally wins because no one wants to challenge her.” Layla replies.

“Well as someone who’s still paying off student loans: Count me in!”

So before the light.

Hold me again.

With all of your might.

In the still of the night.

So before the light.

Hold me again.

With all of your might.

In the still…of the night.

That night at Buck’s the party was in full swing. People were dancing, drinking, playing pool and mingling amongst themselves. Naia stuck close to the bar and Layla as they watched the crowd. And like clockwork, Dylan was drunk and ready to sing her heart out.

“Alright you party animals! Let’s get this sing a long on the road! Now all of you know the rules. First place gets $1,000.00! And since that first place is always me I have nothing to worry about! So hit the music!”

“Ohhh God…” Layla groaned.

“What?!” Naia asks.

“Little Miss Banshee is about to assault our ears and sing Deborah Cox Nobody’s Supposed To Be Here.” Layla replies.

“It can’t be THAT bad, Layla.”

“Wanna bet?” She asks just as Dylan grabbed a mic.

After clearing her throat, Dylan began to sing. Sorta.

How did you get here?

Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

I've spent all my life on a search to find. The love who'll stay for eternity. The heaven sent to fulfill my needs. But when I turn around, again, love has knocked me down. My heart got broken, oh it hurts so bad. I'm sad to say love wins again.

So I placed my heart under lock and key. To take some time to take care of me. But I turn around and you're standing here.

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

This time I swear I'm through. But, if only you knew how many times I've said those words. Then fall again, when will I ever learn? Knowing these tears I cry, this lovely black butterfly. Must take a chance, and spread my wings. Love can make you do some crazy things.

So I placed my heart under lock and key. To take some time to take care of me. But I turn around and you're standing here.

Standing here…

When Dylan got to the bridge, Naia thought her ears would bleed out.

No, nobody, no, no, no, no, no, no, ooh!

No, no, nooooooooo...

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

When she was done, Naia was ready to run out the door screaming.

“Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyy God! That was fucking horrible!”

“Told you.” Layla deadpanned.

“She has to be stopped! What other songs are on that karaoke machine?” Naia asks.

“Hundreds! So if you’re gonna sing, pick one and make it good! That way ears will stop ringing.” Layla replies.

Naia left her seat at the bar and walked over to where the karaoke machine was and went through the list of songs. Doing so, caught the ire of a very drunk Dylan.

“Ummmmmm what do you think you’re doing?!” She asks.

“Picking a song obviously.” She replies over her shoulder.

Dylan huffed.

“You actually think you can beat my melodious voice?” She asks.

“A dead horse can beat your voice. And just like that I found my song.” Naia replies.

“Good luck beating me!” Dylan sneered.

“Watch and learn young grasshopper.”

Naia took the mic and began to sing Give Me One Reason by Tracy Chapman.

Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

Baby I got your number. Oh and I know that you got mine. You know that I called you. I called you many times. You can call me baby. You can call me anytime, you got to call me.

Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

I don't want no one to squeeze me. They might take away my life. I don't want no one to squeeze me. They might take away my life. I just want someone to hold me. Oh and rock me through the night.

People started to gather around Naia as she sang. When she looked towards the bar, she winked at Layla. Layla mouthed the words “next drink is on the house.”

This youthful heart can love you. Yes and give you what you need. I said this youthful heart can love you. Oh and give you what you need. But I'm too old to go chasin' you around. Wastin' my precious energy.

Give me one reason to stay here. Yes and I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Give me one reason to stay here. Oh I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

Baby just give me one reason. Oh give me just one reason why. Baby just give me one reason. Oh give me just one reason why I should stay. Said I told you that I loved you. And there ain't no more to say.

When she finished the applause was thunderous. She had everyone on their feet. When she looked out on the crowd, she saw a visibly angry Dylan. Naia smirked and winked at her, which further infuriated her.

When Naia walked back to the bar, she got the feeling someone was watching her but she didn’t know who that someone was.

“Soooooo…how was that?” Naia asked Layla as she reached the bar.

“AMAZING! Now if you can beat her brother at pool, the bar is on the house.” Layla replied.

“Sold!”

“Well get to it girlie! Because you’ve been eyeing that bottle of tequila over my shoulder since you got here.”

Naia snickered then took off towards the crowd gathered around Tyler. As she went to WB w the crowd was she got the same feeling that she was being watched. And she was indeed being watched. Trent was tuned into her movements even through his blindness.

“Well this looks like fun!” Naia says as she reaches the pool table.

“Go away! Nobody wants you here!” Dylan hissed.

“What’s the matter princess? Scared I’ll beat your brother like I beat you?” Naia teased.

“You can’t beat me!” Tyler huffed.

“Wanna bet?” She asked him.

“Sure. How much are you willing to lose?”

“Since I beat your sister:  $1,000.00.” She replies. She didn’t think he’d take her seriously.

“You’re on! Best 2 out of 3?” He asks.

“Then you’ve got yourself a game.” She replies.

Once the balls were lined up and it was up to her to break. She got stripes while he got solid.

“Let’s go!” She tells him.

The two were evenly matched with the first game going to her and the second going to him. And it all came down to the last game. Naia had an impossible split. Or so that’s what Tyler and the crowd that was gathered around them thought.

“I’ll make you a deal new girl. If you bank this shot, I’ll up the bet from $1,000.00 to $3,000.00.” He said to her.

“Deal!” Naia replies.

Naia tucked a hair that out of place behind her ear, lined up her shot and sank both balls. Beating a very stunned Tyler.

“TAKE! THAT!” She squealed.

“But! But! I…we…” Tyler stammers as he goes pale.

“You lost just like your sister? Yeah I know. Now pay up!” She told him.

That’s when Dylan jumped into Naia’s face.

“You cheated!” She screeched.

“No, your brother ran his mouth and lost. And now he has to pay up. So give me my money!” Naia yelled back.

When Dylan reared back to slap Naia, Trent caught her hand.

“Hey! Let go T!” Dylan yelled.

“We’re not doing this again. Now Tyler pay the lady her money. You know you have it.” Trent said in a stern voice.

There was something about him that caught Naia’s eye.

“My dad will kill me if I pay her!” Tyler whined.

The twins looked at Trent with puppy dog eyes. But he didn’t budge.

“You’re no fun, T!” Tyler whined.

“Don’t care. Now pay her!”

Tyler groaned as he pulled money out of his pocket then handed it to Trent.

“Here!” Tyler pouted.

Trent took the money and handed it to Naia. When their hands touched, it set off a spark inside her. The same kind of spark she felt with Roman.

“Sorry about those two. They don’t know how to lose gracefully.” He said to her.

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for getting my money.” She replied.

Trent turned to the twins then said, “beat it you two! We don’t need anymore trouble.”

The crowd dispersed after the twins huffed then walked out. And Naia found herself back at the bar gushing with Layla.

“Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyy God! Look at this! I just won $3,000.00!”

“I can't believe you did that! No one has ever beaten the twins. Their dad will be so pissed that they lost that kind of money.”

“In the words of T.I. ‘it ain’t tricking if you got it!’”

They two laughed.

“Okay but in all seriousness, thank you! It’s about time that someone brought those two out of the clouds. So here’s your brand new shiny bottle of tequila!” Layla said as she gave Naia the bottle.

“Thank youuuuuu!” Naia squealed.

Just then Trent called out.

“Layla! Another round?”

Layla groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Who is that?” Naia asked.

“That’s Trent. He works for the twins dad.” Layla replied.

“Is he their bodyguard or something?” Naia asked.

“No but he’s always around when those two cause trouble. Let me go fill their orders.” Layla replies.

“Okay. I’ll be here with my brand new bottle.”

Layla shook her head and headed off towards Trent and his crew. Naia couldn’t help but look the same way. Her eyes instantly went to Trent. He was beautiful and there was something about him that stuck with her.

He enchanted her and what she didn’t know was she did the same for him. After the bar closed, Naia began walking back to her uncle’s house. She got halfway down the street when Trent caught up with her.

“Hey!” He said to her.

“Hi! How are you?” She replied.

“I’m good. You must be new in town. I’m Trent.”

“I know. Layla told me your name. I’m Naia.”

“It’s nice to meet you Naia.”

“Likewise. It’s nice to meet another friendly face outside of Layla and my uncle.“

“It’s dark out here. Mind if I walk you home?” He asked.

“Sure. Especially when I’m not sure which way to go.” She replied.

“Where does your uncle live?” He asked.

“Just outside of town. His house backs up to the woods.” She replied.

Even though it was nighttime, he flashed a smile at her that made her heart leap. As they walked they talked about what their lives were like growing up, what college life was like and past loves. She had just met him but she felt she knew him her whole life. When they got to her uncle’s front door, they weren’t ready to say goodbye.

“So this is me…”

“So it would seem. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

“No thank you. Because I probably would’ve gotten lost and would’ve wandered around the woods for days.”

“I think you would’ve found your way home.”

There was a magnetic pull between them that neither could deny. Before either knew what they were doing, they kissed. It was a slow, sensual and deep  kiss. And when it ended both were desperate for more.

“Wow!”

“What you said.”

“I better get inside.”

“Will I see you again?” He asked.

“Of course. I’ll be here for a while.” She replies.

“Good. Have a good night Naia.”

“Goodnight Trent.”

When she went inside her heart was racing. And she wanted more. She wanted him. This was the exact same way she felt when she kissed Roman.

The next morning after showering, she was in the kitchen fixing herself breakfast. 

Her uncle still hadn’t returned from fishing. She had just sat down to eat her breakfast when the front door swung open. It was a man and a woman. They were two of the people she’d seen with Roman.

“Come! The ceremony awaits you!” He commanded.

“1.) no. 2.) WHAT THE HELL?!” Naia replies.

“We’re wasting time! Come now!” The woman demanded.

“What the hell? Get out!” Naia screamed.

When the woman went to grab Naia, she danced out the way. That’s when the man grabbed Naia and threw her over his shoulder. He dragged her out of the house, with her kicking and screaming.

“Let me go!” She screamed.

She struggled to get free but he was way too strong. She was thrown in the back of a van and a hood was placed over her head. Naia had no idea where they were taking her. And she was terrified of finding out.

[flying-nightwing]

Decorum (2/3)

Part 1 > Part 3 

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader (ish), Jason Todd x reader

Word count: 4010

Warnings: same as part 1 + violence

Summary: When it all went down, your knight in shiny armour was the last person you wanted to see.

It was the first sun rays peeking through the lazily closed blinds that woke Dick up from his sleep. Barbara wasn’t there, but he still smiled. She had to work early, but she still allowed him to spend the night with her despite how tired she’d be in the morning. If only he didn’t have to hide her, if only she could replace… 

He rolled his eyes. His wife--it left a not so good taste in his mouth when he said the word--had tried to call him when he was with Barbs, almost ruining the mood. Almost. He had just turned off his phone after the third call, certain that whichever matter she called to complain about could wait to the morning. With sleep still in his eyes, he reached for his phone and turned it on, knowing he’d have to face her wrath for ignoring her calls eventually. But what he definitely wasn’t prepared for was the sheer amount of notifications on his lock screen. He blinked awake and took it all in.

13 missed calls and 4 new voicemails from: wife

2 missed calls and 2 voicemails from: Todd

His eyebrows knit together as he listened to Jason’s messages first. All of this was… Unusual.

“Grayson. You’re such an asshole you know that? Take your fucking responsibilities for once”

Dick rolled his eyes. Did Jason call him just to say that? Well, he wouldn’t be surprised. He skipped to the next message.

“You let your fucking wife get back home by foot for some pussy, and now she doesn’t call me back. She should have been home by now but I can’t reach her. Fix this”

Hold on, hold on. You went there by car, not by foot. And you called Jason? His growing confusion compelled him to quickly switch to your messages as unease settled in his guts. You usually never called, especially not his brothers. And never 13 times either.

“Dick, uh, it’s me. My car has broken down on the road 49, about twenty minutes drive from the mansion. I tried a taxi but I’m literally in the middle of nowhere. Could you pick me up? … Call me when you get this”

Uh. He pressed the next one.

“Dick. It’s me again. Don’t bother coming, I’m walking home. Hope you have fun tonight”

There was your snark. He rolled his eyes, figuring you were just too pissed at him to call back Jason. But still, he pressed next message.

“Dick, I think I’m being followed. Please call me if you get this”

This one didn’t sound like you. Well, it was your voice, but he had never heard it like this before. It was nervous, even terrified. You did not do emotional vulnerability, not ever, so something must have felt wrong. But he told himself you had just been paranoid, and that you were safe and sound home. With hesitation, he went to your last voicemail.

“Someone’s behind me. They’re gaining on me and--”

It was followed by a thud, then silence. His ears were ringing as he hurried to dial your number, it must have been a prank to get back to him. Yes, you wanted to scare him to get back at him, nothing more. But you didn’t answer. Not on the first call, not on any call. 

He jumped out of bed and hurried to dress, not bothering if he looked like a mess. At this moment he assumed the worst, and a gut feeling told him he was right.

---------

You woke up with pain in your wrist and your neck, and a blurry vision that didn’t allow you to see exactly where you were just yet. But as the previous night events came back to you, you understood that wherever you were, it wasn’t home, and you were in danger. A man was sitting in front of you, observing you. He had graying hair and an eyepatch, but what stood out was the blade in his hands, casually resting on his thigh. No, this can’t be happening. 

“Good morning miss Grayson”

You felt tears prick your eyes as you tried to look anywhere but at him. “If it’s money you want, I’ll give it to you, I swear--”

“No, no” He interrupted you softly. “I have enough money, I don’t care about yours or your husband’s for that matter”

You frowned in confusion. Beside your money, you didn’t do anything to piss off anyone. “Then why am I here?”

He took a moment, observing you curiously. He leaned on his chair and stroked his beard. “I want to talk to you about your husband” He began. “Him and I have unfinished business”

Your heart sank at his words. Not only Dick made your life miserable every single day of your life, but now he would get you killed. You didn’t want to die, not like this, not because of Dick. You felt the tears run down your cheeks as he grabbed a folder on the table beside him and drew out a picture. He held it in front of your face, forcing you to look at it. It was taken through a window, in a less than ideal angle, but the image was clear enough to know exactly what was going on.

Dick, shirtless with Barbara on his laps kissing like there was no tomorrow. 

You didn’t flinch, you only looked away. The man observed you some more before he clicked his tongue, lowering the picture and putting it away.

“You knew already”

“Yeah well” You spat in half shame, half anger, avoiding looking at him. You knew of it, it still didn't make it hurt any less to see the visual proof of him actively choosing someone else. More tears, only tears, to blur away the mental image. You shook your head and sniffed. “You’ve got the wrong person if you’re trying to hurt him. He doesn’t love me, never did and never will”

Once again, he decided not to answer just yet but to keep staring at you. It was creepy, it seemed like he was trying to read right through you. There was a fascination in his eyes, like he couldn't quite get your character, but he was working on it. He tilted his head to the side and hummed.

“But you wish he did” He spoke in wonder. “Don't you?”

You gritted your teeth at his affirmation, one you had refused to admit to yourself for so long. God, had you wished you would be the one he smiled to. He was attractive, and the smile he reserved for those around you--but never you--made you wish you could make him happy. You had tried so hard to be pleasant, to be someone he could settle with despite the circumstances, Lord knows you did. You knew he was funny from his lively conversations with Tim and Damian you overheard, and loving from his complete devotion to Barbara. But all he had ever shown you was coldness and disappointment, and the feeling that you would never be enough. Your kidnapper was right and you hated it.

“Just… Get it over with” You mumbled, knowing you were no use anymore to him now that the truth was out. “He won't come for me. Better not waste your time on someone that doesn't matter to him”

“I don't know if this is ironically funny or just sad” He sighed, standing up from his chair and walking to a small table some feet away. “Almost makes me feel sorry for what's to come”

He came back toward you with a sharp looking blade, and that's when you started to truly panic. You thought downplaying it would make it let you go, but he was determined to hurt him through you. And this time, it would get physical.

“Since blackmail didn't work, let's try something else that might”

------

Jason sat on the counter, staring at Dick pace around in the kitchen. His legs were dangling, itching to kick him every time he passed in front of him. But he didn't, not yet anyway. It was the most he's ever seen his half brother concerned for his wife. Actually, it was the first time he's seen him concerned for her at all. That was new, and Jason was doubting his motive. 

"It's probably Slade" Dick finally spoke. "No ransom note, silence radio. It must be him"

"Duh" He rolled his eyes, and Dick glared at his nonchalance.

"My wife's been kidnapped" He deadpanned. "Aren't you going to help?"

"Tell me" Jason jumped off the counter, ignoring the question. He went and grabbed the orange juice and took a sip. "How many times did you wish, and I quote, to get rid of her for good?" 

"It's not the time to be smug" Dick grunted, knowing very well he was at fault there. He had ignored his wife in time of need to, as Jason so eloquently put it in his voicemail, get some pussy. "We need to find her"

"We?" He raised an eyebrow. Dick had called him in a frenzy earlier, and he had came back as soon as he could to Gotham. But it was not for his brother that he did, far from it. "I think you misunderstood. I'm here to guilt trip you until you fix your mess, then provide her moral support while you go fuck yourself"

Dick stopped in front of Jason and squared up at the challenge hanging on his words. Despite Jason being slightly taller, he didn't back down. Finally, he stomped away, leaving his brother to take a long sip of the carton in his hands. 

"I hope Barbs was worth it!"

"Fuck you!"

--------

"One cut on her pretty face for each hour you don't show up"

The words on the video he sent your husband keep replaying in your head, over and over again as it was the only thing you could even think about. The burning of his blade was still very much present on your skin where he had made the first cut, it wasn't too deep but enough to make it bleed down your cheek. The salt of your tears created a displeasing tingle where the skin had been severed, and at that moment you were convinced you would die here, disfigured by a maniac who had against your husband. You were tired, in pain and all you wanted was to be back home, alone in your little universe. 

You pictured your favourite book of the moment on the table, the one right under the windows that would let the sun in. You'd have a coffee and a bowl of cherries, and you would spend afternoons reading to get your mind off everything. The story would more often than not be about this woman and a brooding, charming love interest learning to love each other through adversity. They would always end up together, happy forever after. 

Oh, did you wish to be them. 

But you never could. You never could because Dick never would. He was stubborn, he didn't care for you. In his eyes, you were the woman who ruined his life and nothing more. He had been with another woman for the entire duration of your marriage, and his affair had lead you to be kidnapped. His carelessness lead you here, and he probably didn't even want to come for you. You'd only be finally out of his way, and Gotham would only make him a martyr out of it. Two birds one stone, as they say. 

"Two hours, miss Grayson" 

You tried to wriggle out of your restraints as your kidnapper stalked toward you with the same blade he had made the first cut. But it was pointless, you weren't strong enough to fight him. So you were left to scream as the sharp metal pierced your skin just above the last mark. 

And that's when glass shattered all around you. The blade paused in your skin for a second before leaving it, before the man let go of you completely. A blur of black and blue passed in front of your eyes and jumped on the one eyed man, attacking him in a way you could only assume as brutal. While you were trying to make sense of what was happening in front of your eyes, someone else crouch at your side. You were about to scream, but you felt the restraints on your wrist being cut free, then on the other side as well.

The first thing you saw when you dared to look beside you was a leather jacket, a familiar one. Without thinking twice, you threw your arms around Jason, holding tight. 

"Come on darling, we need to get out of here" He muttered, helping you up on your feet. 

"Wait-- We gotta…" You tried to turn around, but Jason wouldn't let you. "He has…"

"Grayson will be fine" He scoffed as you felt your head spin. The sudden movement made you dizzy, and you felt yourself falling unconscious. "Oh shit"

The last thing you saw before blacking out was Jason hurrying to catching you before you hit the floor.

------

Dick had driven you to the hospital. He hadn't accounted on Jason showing up, and he was surprised he hadn't taken the matter in his own hands and drove you here himself. But Jason understood it would raise less questions if an actual detective brought you back, especially since the whole city had been made aware of your kidnapping. So he left the honors to Dick, knowing there would be plenty other occasions to turn the knife in the wound. 

You were still unconscious, but the doctors had said you would make a full recovery. You were just really dehydrated, and probably in shock after the events. Dick was sitting at your side, rehearsing in his head his apology to you. He didn't know where to begin, he hadn't expected to feel remorses at all. He didn't even know why he cared about getting you back; at first, he thought it was for the same reason he became Nightwing, or even Robin in the first place. Because he had to help you. Because he wouldn't Slade walk all over him. The feeling was supposed to go away once he got you to safety, it was supposed to be gone by now. But staring at your unconscious form now, it only grew worse. He had done his job, so why was he staying by your side? Why was he feeling so bad about it? 

It made him think about that one time you helped him clean his wounds. It had been a tough night with the guys, and he hadn't had the energy to fight with you. He was bruised and battered, and you had walked on him trying to disinfect a cut on his back. You hadn't said a word as you had gently grabbed the swab in his hands, and had done all the work for him. You had never asked questions about Nightwing, nor had you ever told his secret. Why didn't you? Why had you tried so hard to be nice to him when he was a jerk? Why couldn't you be a jerk too and make it easier?

He remember the look in your eyes a few nights ago when you had snapped. It was like everything holding you back had disappeared, like he had pushed you over the edge. He had been trying to do that for so long, but it hadn't felt as good as he had hoped. He had felt bad, even. He knew your public image was literally all that you had left, and he was trying to sabotage it as well. He realized now how horrible he had been. Why did he do that? Why? How had he been so afraid of exploring outside the safe zone Barbs provided him, that it made him actively ruin someone else's life?

He glanced at you and took a deep breath. He would make it right this time. He wanted to make it right--

"Howdy, Dick in Chief" 

His head snapped toward the door, where Jason stood with that look on his face, letting him know he was in for some shit eating. Dick rolled his eyes and sat back in the chair facing you. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Jason shrugged, taking this as an invitation to come in. Not that he needed one, he would have came in no matter his answer. “I’m here for her. I doubt you’re the face she wants to see when she wakes up. Mine’s better anyway”

Dick sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why do you even care?” He asked. “Last time I checked you didn’t like her any more than I did”

“You should check more often then” He hummed, stopping at the foot of the bed and sending you a glance. “I thought she was only one of your stuck up fan girl, but turns out she’s actually nice. And that ass…”

Dick glared at him, and he held up his hands in surrender.  

“Why do YOU care?” He turned the question around. “It’s past ten. Shouldn't you be inches deep in Barbs right now anyway?”

“Fuck you Todd!”

“All I’m saying is that you missed your chance, Dick Supreme” He leaned on a rolling pole, then stumbled back upright when his weight pushed it back. He looked behind him at it, then shook his head and returned his attention on his brother. “She got kidnapped because you were out fucking your girlfriend instead of landing a helping hand for once. There’s no coming back from that, so why don’t you take the night off and let Jay Bird handle it uh?”

Dick stood up wordlessly and stomped out of the room, sending you one last glance before disappearing behind the door frame. Jason watched him go, waited a few seconds more and sighed. “How long have you been awake?”

Slowly, you opened your eyes and nodded a silent thank to Jason not to have revealed that you were listening. Dick couldn’t even notice you had woken up, but it didn’t surprise you. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about it. “About 20 minutes, I don’t know”

Jason plopped in the seat beside your bed previously occupied by his brother and smiled at you. “Was I right?”

You nodded again. The last person you wanted to see right now was Dick.

“Thanks for saying I’m nice” You chuckle came out rasped, but it was still light. “And whatever about my ass… I guess”

“Only the truth for you” He winked, and your chest shook in silent laughter. He sat back in satisfaction, with that little grin on his face. Always the best at making you feel better. “You know what, you should have married me instead of golden dick”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow in amusement. You knew the whole city would have exploded if it had been him instead of Dick two years ago--he knew it as well--but you wanted to see what joke he would spin out of this shameless flirting.

“Hm mmh” He leaned forward toward you. “I mean, faithfulness wouldn’t have been guaranteed, I guess that’s a given in both scenario, but at least, I would have made it fun”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even though it stung the bandaids on the side of your face. Leave it to Jason to make light of the disaster that was your marriage to Dick Grayson. 

“Why are you laughing? It’s true” At this point, he was laughing too. You hadn’t seen him laugh before, but it was a nice change of pace for once. “There’s a line up for this piece of heaven, but I swear it would have been all yours first”

“Jesus” You dropped your hand on your belly as you caught back your breath. 

“Jason, darling, not Jesus” He corrected. “But hey, I’m flattered you confuse me with the saviour of humanity”

“You dork” You lightly punched his shoulder, and he pretended to recoil like he was actually hurt. “How did I--”

You stopped talking as your eyes caught the TV broadcast in the background. The sound was muted but they were talking about you, your picture and name in bold letter on the screen. Reluctantly, you turned on the sound, ignoring Jason’s weak protests. The smiles and laughter had dropped, and you knew by his now silence that you wouldn’t like what they would show next. Your heart dropped, hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was, but knowing better.

“... The kidnapping of the Gotham socialite wasn’t the only scandal linked to the Wayne family in this tragedy. Anonymous source delivered incriminating pictures of Mr Grayson having an affair with a woman whose face was blurred by whoever took them, which begs the question, was miss Grayson’s disappearance about jealousy, or as a payback for--”

Jason finally had enough and grabbed the remote from your hands, turning off the TV. The one secret you had fought so hard to keep buried had came to the light, just like that. You looked down and sighed, knowing you were done for. Reporters, other high people of Gotham, anyone, would see you as the wife who got cheated on. The wife that couldn’t be enough. And the worst, all the blame would fall again on you, and you only.

“I guess this is what you were trying to tell me back there” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, darling”

“Not your fault” You mumbled after swallowing the lump in your throat. You couldn’t stay in Gotham anymore. You needed to get out as soon as possible, before--

Someone clearing their throat made you and jason turn toward the door frame, where Dick had a guilty expression on. You guessed he had witnessed the broadcast, but couldn’t see why he seemed to feel so bad about it. Wasn’t it what he had tried to do since day one?

“Can… Could I talk to you?” 

You broke eye contact with your husband to nod at Jason, telling him to leave you two for a moment. Turns out, you needed to talk to him to, briefly. Jason nodded back and stood up before leaving the room, but not before bumping into Dick on his way out. Your husband carefully made his way to the chair and took his place back by your side.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry, for everything. For treating you like shit, for sabotaging you, for hurting you and for getting you in the crossfire of my mistakes” He dove right in, but you weren’t impressed. You crossed your arms against your chest and looked down. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m still asking for it, if you can give it. If not, I won’t hold it against you”

You took a deep breath, and hope filled his eyes. But then, it dropped as soon as it came when you shook your head. “I’m not sure if I could, not now, maybe not ever”

He swallowed.

“I’m going away, I… I need some time” You nodded to yourself. “I need to be out of Gotham and think about myself for a bit”

“Yes, I understand, whatever you need” His voice sounded too hopeful for the truth you knew inside. A pause settled as you debated telling him you didn’t plan on coming back, ever, but he spoke before you could decide. “... Do you think there could be ever a chance for me to make it up to you?

You couldn’t meet his eyes, and you didn’t have the heart to break him like he did to you. You just wanted out as soon as possible, as far as possible from him. He didn’t need you, he just felt bad and you couldn’t go through the same song all over again.

“I don’t know, Dick. I don’t know”

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

Claire and Jamie are together for one purpose only: trying to get over their previous relationships. It’s just a plan, isn’t it?

Infinite thanks to @lcbeauchampoftarth​ and @anna-swims​ for being awesome betas. There is no posting schedule, because life™. I hope you enjoy this ride.

AO3

1: Drink [Claire]

I slammed my tiny shot glass down hard on the bar top. It earned me a dirty look from what’s-his-face, the bartender.

“Hey… hey! Yeah, another one over here, please.” My words weren’t quite slurred yet, but I was getting there fast. Bloody fuck.

I swiveled on the barstool, just enough to get a real good look at the people who were milling around the crowded Glasgow bar. Which bar was I at again… Prince Edward? Prince Charles? Some royal name.

I was past being discreet. I craned my neck and checked out every booth and table just to make sure they were really gone. The bartender nudged my arm with my new drink and I felt for it blindly, never taking my eyes off the tiny dance floor.

“Cheers, Robert.”

“It’s Rupert,” he grunted.

“Whatever.” I pulled the tequila hard and fast, barely grimacing as it burned its way down.

“Och. Tha’ looks painful. I might have to try that.”

The voice came from my left, a slightly slurred Scottish burr. I turned slowly, wiping my mouth rather sloppily with the back of my hand. I squinted in the dim light.

His hair was the first thing I noticed. It was an attractive mess, and I couldn’t tell if it was the shitty lighting or his natural color, but it was so red it looked fake.

I realized I’d been staring at the top of this lad’s head like an idiot, before finally meeting his gaze. Deep blue eyes—a rare form of sapphire—looked back at me, also squinting through the haze of cigarette smoke and dim lighting.

Bloody fuck, he was a hot mess. I felt a twinge of equal parts guilt and self-righteous anger. I thought maybe it was a bit too soon for me to notice other attractive men, but the anger spoke up even louder. Why shouldn’t I engage in interesting conversations with random, gorgeous men? The anger in me won.

Wait, he’d said something. What was it? He wanted to do a shot?

“Um, it’s Cuervo. I think I might go blind if I keep drinking this, but that’s okay. Then I won’t have to see that arsehole walking around with that stroppy cow.”

Oops, overshare. At least I hadn’t hurled tequila and pub mix all over him. Yet.

Attractive blue-eyed lad raised his eyebrows. He was just as shit-faced as I was, maybe even a bit more. “Arsehole? Who would that be?”

Oh, might as well. “My ex. Turns out those late-night work meetings that went on for months were late-night sex marathons with Sandy. The arm-candy.”

“Sandy? The stroppy cow, I assume?” He smirked and tossed back the remainder of his own drink. “Which would make you…?”

“Claire. Spurned but pissed ex-girlfriend.” I held out my hand.

He took it in his and squeezed it gently. “Jamie, spurned and sad ex-boyfriend.” The tequila must have kicked in; my hand and arm felt all tingly and a warmth sparked in my belly.

“So. Any particular sorrows you’re drowning in cheap liquor?” I faced the bar again, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Och, aye. But I daresay they’re halfway gone now.” Jamie shook his empty glass and the ice clinked. “My third.”

I snorted. “Fourth.” I held up my own shot glass in Ronald’s—or was it Reuben’s?—direction. “My good man, two please.” I glanced at Jamie, smiling wickedly. “You need to catch up.”

“Aye, but I really dinna want to risk going blind.” He called out to Rodolfo (Riley?), “Make it Patron, please.”

“Patron, huh? Is she worth it?” I caught his gaze.

Jamie’s eyes hardened, but I could tell it wasn’t towards me. “No. But I am.”

“Fair enough.” The glasses were placed in front of us and I raised mine to his. I stood, wobbling a bit and he did the same. “A toast—to Jamie and Claire. May their exes catch amoebic dysentery and shit till they die.”

“Amen.” He held his own shot aloft and touched the rim to mine. We looked at each other for a moment before we downed the golden liquid.

“Argh!” Jamie shook his head, making a face and coughing once. “Nice.”

“What were you drinking?” I nodded towards the chunky tumbler filling fast with melted ice.

“Whisky. I probably shouldna be mixing Laphroaig and Patron, but fuck it. I dinna care.”

Now both our eyes were kind of swimming and I stumbled into him as I tried to hike myself back onto the barstool.

“Easy there,” he chuckled. I straightened up, pushing away slightly. I gripped the bar top. The world was tilting crazily now. Bloody hell.

“I think that last shot was a mistake.” Now my words were blending together in strange ways.

“Aye, for me too.” His Scots accent had broadened more over the past minute.

I laid my head on the bar, not caring if my hair got dirty. I groaned, and I felt Jamie pat my back gently. “Um, thanks.” I managed to raise my head off the surface after a few minutes.

���Anytime.” He hoisted himself onto the stool next to mine. We endured silence for a bit until he grabbed a nearby salt shaker, tapping it rhythmically on the bar top. I waited.

The music suddenly changed; slow, mellow notes filled the air. I was about to make a snarky comment about the DJ’s song choice when I noticed Jamie’s hand next to me, palm up.

“Dance?” he asked softly.

“Only if you promise not to twirl me,” I found myself answering.

We made our way onto the makeshift dance area in the corner. He pulled me close, his hand at my back and the other clutched mine tightly against his chest. My left hand went on his shoulder as he led me expertly around the floor. My head threatened to drop, nestling perfectly into the center of his chest. God, he was tall.  The alcohol was finally achieving its purpose, numbing me.

We swayed back and forth; I was still trying not to vomit as we danced. I found that the scent coming off Jamie’s skin was helping—something fresh like citrus, tinged with his own male musk.

“I proposed to her.” His warm breath tickled the shell of my ear.

I gripped his shoulder hard. He proposed? Jamie’s story sounded more fucked up than mine. He took my touch as a sign to continue.

“It was our 2-year anniversary. Fancy restaurant, candles, romantic shite—ye ken? Movie style.”

“What’s your ex called?” I slurred, surprised I could focus on a question.

“Annalise.” Jamie’s voice had a sneering quality as he pronounced her name with a French accent. “We’d met when I studied a semester abroad in Paris, but she actually lived here. After I’d pulled the ring from my pocket, and knelt in front of the entire restaurant—she said she didna want to hurt me, but that we should remain friends.”

“Friends. Classic. Only if being friends means you get to punch them in the mouth after a speech like that,” I laughed bitterly and he joined me.

“That was exactly a year ago—tonight. I just found out she’s dating some arsehole—something something Saint Germain. Hence, whisky.”

The song ended and Jamie looped my arm through his, and we collapsed at a table; barstools were a little complicated in our current state. I took a deep breath and reciprocated my own sob story.

“I walked in on Frank and Sandy a few months ago. In our bed. Bloody hell, we’d known each other since we were teenagers. We were living together. Was ‘I think we should see other people’ so hard to say?” I flagged a waitress, holding up two fingers.

“Och, lass, another one?” Jamie looked concerned. I was no lightweight, but I was really feeling the previous shots.

Fuck it.

“Yeah. I need it.” I sucked on a lime and upended the shot glass. I barely acknowledged the burn this time.

“That bad, eh?”

“It is.” I winced, remembering how I still hadn’t managed to take down the pictures of us. That was just bloody unhealthy.

“Oh. It’s really no’ my place, since, well… I’m completely pissed too, but… do ye drink this much every weekend, just to forget? I mean, I worry about yer liver and all.”

“No. It’s just I ran into the Frank and Sandy here tonight, who’s sporting a rock the size of a peach pit on her finger.” I swallowed hard. “And very, very pregnant.” Much too pregnant for their affair to have begun only a few months ago. She looked ready to pop.

“Och.” Jamie looked chagrined. “Aye.” He downed his own shot and gestured for more. He raised his glass in a toast like I had.

“To ye. Because at this point, I think yer story sounds worse than mine. And ye’re still standing.” We slammed a few more shots, until finally, sweet oblivion.

No more pain, no more misplaced guilt, no more what-ifs. A moment’s peace.

It could be found at the bottom of a glass.

- - -

Sunlight streamed through the pale, gauzy curtains. It felt like a fucking drill through my eyes.

“Oh God,” I mumbled, rolling over and trying to ignore the pounding like a sledgehammer between my temples.

I hit something soft and warm beside me.

My eyes flew open, light hitting me painfully. As they adjusted, I caught sight of a tousled red head peeking over the top of the covers.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

How did this happen?