#but our little visits in the garden and in my dreams sometimes are enough . i just know he's there <3

[angeltism]

oh shit maybe I should actually talk about star a little instead of leaving his entire existence vague as hell to uu guys . maybe ? idk I don't owe anybun an explanation of who he is or anything but also . idk ?

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter Two

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: Confused Pining.

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone. 

Word Count: ~2.5k

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Your bare feet flew across the flaggen stone of your courtyard as you rushed around, trying to find the papers you needed. It had been hectic in The Gardens as of late, there had been a boom in the population in The Waking World and hopes were pouring into your realm at a pace you and your handmaids could barely keep up with. But you were not looking for parchment for The Gardens, but for The Dreaming. The lines between dreams and hopes often overlapped which led you to work with Dream off and on over the last hundred years or so. You had been keeping things strictly business with him, not wanting any sort of relationship with the older Endless to impede your purpose… but Dream had offered to show you his realm after you both finished your business for the day. If only you could find that blasted parchment!  

Of all the times to lose important parchment work it had to now. 

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled around the bench you normally sat at, your hands moving leaves, vines, and flowers. Sometimes, your plants liked to be naughty. You couldn’t blame them, they were still quite young, just like you. 

“Where did you go!? I’m going to be late!” You exclaimed, your flower-woven hair flying about. You caught a fold of parchment buried within the vines of the bougainvillea wrapping around the north archway of the courtyard. Eyes narrowing, you walked up to the unassuming vine and placed your hands on your hips. “And what are you doing with that, beautiful one?” The bougainvillea shivered and ruffled its leaves like a scolded child, then it started pouting. Your stern face softened. “Oh come now, I’ll be coming back… it’s not like I’ll be moving away from The Gardens.” 

Ever so slowly, the vines started moving and the piece of parchment you had spent the better part of half an hour looking for, appeared. The bougainvillea offered it to you in a wilted demeanor. You took the parchment and brushed your fingers along a few leaves and flowers. 

“Don’t cry, little one, I’ll be back soon enough.” A vine curled around your finger, giving it a gentle squeeze. You smiled softly and gave the plant one last caress before pulling away. You were already late as it were. Parchment in hand, you strode out of your private courtyard, calling for your familiar. Your dove swooped through the hallways to land on your shoulder as you entered your gallery. In front of you, sheltered by seven alcoves, were the sigils of the other Endless. You walked up to the dark miniature helm that represented Dream and carefully cradled it within your palms. 

“Dream,” Your voice softly spoke, echoing through the sigil to be heard by Dream. “I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, may I visit you and your realm?” You felt a ripple in response before Dream called back to you. 

I have already invited you to my realm, dear sister. You need not request permission so formally a second time, even if our rules demand so. 

Your lips twitched at his words, at him calling you his sister. That label had always felt strange and foreign to you. You had never felt that you were a sibling to the older Endless, you— you were something else. You had a purpose in your creation and it wasn’t to be their sibling. At least, that is what you understood about your existence. 

“Forgive me for being so rigid with decorum,” You sweetly replied. “It is my understanding that I must strictly adhere to the rules of my being, I shall arrive momentarily.” Placing Dream’s sigil back where it rested, you closed your eyes and held your hands in front of your chest, concentrating on transporting yourself to The Dreaming. It would be the first time you left The Garden since your first arrival. Flower petals and stardust swirled around you and your dove, and the serene calming aura of your realm disappeared to be replaced with one of wonder and fascination. 

You gasped at the cold stone beneath your feet and flickered your eyes open. Stretched out in front of you was a quaint village with stone cottages and smoking chimneys, the winding path you stood on continued through the village and past its boundaries to a bridge held up by hands. Beyond was a glimmering castle. This was The Dreaming. 

From behind you came the sound of shifting stone and twisting in place, you looked upwards to see a great dragon perched on Ivory gates that loomed upwards formidably. Stern eyes passed over your form shortly before the giant marble dragon swopped into the air and started flying towards the palace. Returning your attention to your surroundings, you followed the path and were instantly fascinated by the people and your surroundings. You saw clothing designs you had never seen, food you had never tasted, and creations you could never dream of. Finding yourself lingering on the fringes of the town, attention drawn to more unique statues and architecture, you just barely heard the call of a raven. Then one dove through the air and fluttered to its feet on a stack of crates nearby. You smiled. 

“Hello, Lucienne,” You softly greeted politely, your eyes flickering upwards to the palace that lay beyond the winding bridge. “I suppose I got distracted,” you moved your hands to grip your skirts sheepishly. “Please forgive me, this is my first time visiting and The Dreaming is so intriguing.” Lucienne hummed at you before tilting her head. 

“Lord Morpheus understands your curiosity and sent me to see that you are guided to wherever you so choose should you design,” Lucienne explained, shuffling her wings. Your eyebrow arched and you glanced at the palace. 

“Well, that won’t do,” You murmured, your mind remembering that you had come for a reason. You had business with Dream. “Apologies I have gotten entirely sidetracked by the realm, I have official business with Dream… do you mind escorting me to him?” Lucienne bobbed her head and took to the skies once more. Traveling across the winding bridge connecting the village to the palace, you took the opportunity to admire the beauty and structural architecture of Dream’s home. Upon entering the palace, you were led through some halls and ended up in the throne room. Dream sat upon the stairs to his throne, book hand and a studious look upon his face. You approached and paused a meter or two from the base of the stairs. Your dove cooed on your shoulder, and Dream raised his starlit eyes to yours. 

“Greetings, sister,” His deep and therapeutic voice echoed through the large room and slipped across your skin like silk. You bowed your head slightly in return. 

“My deepest apologies, Dream, for being late, it seemed that my realm was reluctant to see that I leave.” A dark elbow quirked and the corner of Dream’s mouth twitched. 

“Reluctant?” He repeated with a touch of amusement in his voice. Heat surged up your neck and into your cheeks, warming them, as you tried to beat back the embarrassment rapidly filling your body. Your dove cooed in agreement and you materialized the scrolls you needed. 

“The bougainvillea was reluctant to see me leave and thought to hide the parchments from me in a pout.” You explained with hot cheeks, your fingers rotating the parchment scroll in clear embarrassment. “I spent the better part of half an hour looking for the parchments only to discover that they had been hidden from me, intentionally.” How had a plant momentarily gotten the best of an Endless? Dream chuckled at your words, knowing how vibrant and full of life The Gardens were. It was no surprise that the realm itself did not wish for its Lady to leave. 

“It is of no concern that your realm kept you momentarily at bay, Dawn, you are all it knows,” Morpheus spoke to you gently, observing your small frame. You had always been a picture of gentle, carefree beauty. Flowing dresses, vines, and flowers woven into your hair tumbling down your back. You were the picture of nature, your timeless beauty shifting and changing with the eras. You had already shifted forms a few times, but your beauty had always remained constant. Yet at the same time, your carefree appearance was misleading. You were, perhaps, the most hardworking of the Endless. From the moment of your creation to this moment now, your sole focus and concern was on your duty and realm. Compared to Delirium, Despair, and Desire, you were far more mature. Unusually so. Mother Night and Father Time made you meticulous, hardworking, and serious. 

“Dream?” Your sweet and melodic voice drew Dream from his inner thoughts, and he shifted his eyes back to your inquisitive ones. “I can come back to do the co-filing if now is a bad time…” Dream shook his head and rose to his feet, stepping down the stairs to approach you. 

“I was merely in thought, come, the library is this way,” Dream said, looking down at you. Your eyes brightened at the mention of the library and Dream smiled at your childlike excitement, a great change from your usual serious facial expression. “I also believe I promised to show you my realm?” With a smile that could rival the brightness of a sun and unadulterated curiosity glowing in your eyes, Dream led you to his library. With your help, Dream was able to complete several dreams and get a head start on the construction of dozens more. It was a large ease in Dream’s workload and the older Endless was becoming more and more entranced with your presence. With the work completed, Dream moved onto activities that would surely bring further wonder to your eyes.

He started by showing you his palace which you had been enamored with its design and landscaping. Of course, you had fallen in love with the gardens that Mervyn maintained. If there was one thing Dream had learned about you, you absolutely adored plant life… your realm wasn't called The Gardens just because you liked plants. Then Dream showed you more of the village, letting you dart around and stare in amazement at the common places of the town. This was the most emotion he had ever seen from you, and Dream quickly found that he liked seeing you so happy. An unusual feeling for him. You were wandering towards the rocky path that lead to Fiddler’s Green when Dream stopped your midstep, arms wrapping around your fluttering body and ceasing your movement. You wobbled in surprise, your arms flailing slightly. Then your feet left the slightly cold ground and you found your body effortlessly lifted into the arms of Dream. 

“Dream?” You asked in confusion, your head tilting in confusion. His eyes met yours. 

“You might find that the pathway is… sharp, underfoot Dawn.” Dream pointed out, his silver-blue eyes glancing at your bare and unprotected feet. You still looked confused at why it was a problem but didn’t argue further. 

“If you are feeling so inclined,” You answered softly, your eyes dropping to his coat and catching sight of the stars hidden within. You reached out and traced your finger along the inner lining. He held a galaxy of stars within the inner lining of his coat? It was incredibly beautiful. Dream carried you along the rocky path until it ended and Fiddler’s Green began. As you returned to your feet and relished the feeling of soft grass beneath your toes, your head swiveled around in curiosity. Fiddler’s Green was a grand arcana that stretched over a large portion of The Dreaming. It was going to take you a long time before you fully explored the space to your heart's content. With your fingers lingering on Dream’s jacket, you looked up into his face. “Do you have a favorite place?”

Dream blinked, not expecting your question. He had to think about your question. 

“I’m afraid that I do not believe I have a favorite place with Fiddler’s Green. I spend so much time attending to my duties, I fear that I do not enjoy my realm as much as I should.” He answered you. Then he recalled a place within The Dreaming that dreamers who loved nature enjoyed walking through. Dream took one of your hands and began leading you in the direction of the field of flowers. You were happy to be led, giving you a chance to be absentminded about where your eyes wandered. The light breeze against your skin felt nice and the ground underfoot was almost softer than that of your garden. When Dream led you to a field that had an explosion of flowers of all types, you stopped short in vivid wonder. Dream watched as a multitude of emotions flickered across your face in rapid succession. It was like you were seeing the beauty of plants and flowers for the first time, and yet, did you not live in a garden of Eden?

The sight of you standing within Fiddler’s Green with such a look of wonder and enjoyment tugged at something within Dream. Perhaps his heart? No, he didn’t have a heart to be tugged… but he did know that he was drawn to your light and happiness. You looked back at Dream, your eyes sparkling but clouded with question. 

“Dream, may I ask you something?” You questioned him. Dream bowed his head to you, eager to answer any questions you had and learn everything there was to know about you. It wasn’t often that something held his fascination and attention, but you were all he could think of as of late. You picked a flower from the field and wound it through your fingers, a far-off look within your eyes. “Do you ever get lonely?” That question struck Morpheus like a blade through a heart. Painful and unexpected. He looked at your face, worry swelling within him. Were you feeling lonely so early on in your existence? Had he and his siblings failed you? You met his gaze. “Given your task of overseeing the dreams and nightmares, surely you are burdened with the emotions of the endless dreamers… I can’t even imagine what you might feel. Surely dreams are endless, how do you do it?” 

Dream stared at you in wonder. You clearly understood the gravity of your purpose and experienced it all the same… but were concerned for him, rather than yourself? Most of the Endless held egocentric, self-centered views, only thing thinking about their own domain and wishes. But not you. He was inexplicably drawn to that and felt an immense need to placate your worries. 

“That is true, I do feel immensely through the dreams and nightmares of mortals,” He admitted to you, staring into your eyes and loving the way your eyes constantly flickered with inextinguishable candlelight. Hope. “But it is their hope that is the base of their dreams and that sustains me, for what are dreams without hope?”

Your eyelids fluttered for a moment shortly before a smile blossomed on your lips of the likes Dream had never seen before. It was radiatingly gorgeous and lit up your face as he had never seen before, and it was directed at him. Dream was startled, taken aback by how beautiful your happiness was shown. But just as quickly as it had appeared, your smile was redirected as your eye caught something. You darted off with an excited giggle leaving behind a bewildered Dream in a state of confused pining. Why would Mother Night and Father Time make a sibling that he felt so drawn to, so connected with? Why did they make a sibling that Dream was falling for?

Date Published: 1/20/23

Last Edit: 1/20/23

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[ahdenyadahling]

Final Fantasy XV- Fate & Destiny

Chapter One, Part One

Chapter One will consist of my own AU backstory, taking place around where Chapter 2 is in the game. For now, I don't believe anything is restricted, although as the story progresses, it will become more mature. Warning tags will be added then.

Chapter One: Fate and Destiny

Fate and Destiny. Synonyms of a sort, though one sounds like doom and the other, a happy ever after. Neither is correct, nor completely wrong. I suppose it depends on the fated or destined situation. I never dreamed one or perhaps both of those words would describe my fortune.

Within the Kingdom of Lucis, the Crown City of Insomnia had been at peace for more than a century. Though to have heard my father talk, it was simply a matter of time until the Niflheim Empire found an advantage, shattering our illusions. It was only very recently the Imperials had done just that, infiltrating and bringing the illustrious city to ruins in one fell swoop. An unknown source had conjured a way to break down the magical barrier which held the Empire’s menacing machines at bay for over a decade, leading to the destruction of the city.

I had only been to the Crown City once or twice when I was very small, and there’s not much I can recall besides long concrete roads and lighted buildings which reached the sky. It was impossible to forget the Royal Castle, the Citadel. It was a massive masterpiece of stone and marble, shining white and, to a child like myself, there was something warm and pure about it. For weeks after my visit, I would ask my father what it would be like to live there, to count how many rooms there were and find out what kinds of people worked there. He forced a smile and gave my head a pat. He told me of guards and cooks, of teachers and royalty, but said living there would be lonely, especially for a child.

He died a few months back, just before we heard on the radio that the Crown City had fallen, and so had the King, the Prince, and his betrothed. It was a sad situation, the Imperials trying to annihilate the entire royal family. Here in Duscae, southwest of Insomnia, King Regis no longer held the authority of his ancestors. Though most citizens still saw him as their ruler and protector, King Regis seemed a myth. It was his magic that had kept the Imperials from overtaking Insomnia and this outlying land, though some were bitter that his focus was kept on barricading his precious capital. It seemed as though he had traded the remainder of Lucis for the safety of the Capital. Since his death, my mother and I had seen several Imperial Warships pass overhead. They were gargantuan metal wonders, or rather, horrors, that appeared to carry perhaps thirty of their mechanized soldiers. I had seen some of these soldiers with my own eyes, dropping from the sky with guns, patrolling nearby towns or scouting the forests as if in search of someone. Rumor had it that they even had tall robots, large enough for a person to sit inside and control, with machine guns for arms, some able to shoot small rockets. With weapons like that, it seemed no wonder to me that Insomnia fell. Yet in all fairness, the warships themselves were a marvel. They had no wings, yet were able to glide through the air almost noiselessly. At night, they could be spotted by the huge, glowing red orb that seemed to power it. As fascinated as I am with Imperial technology, they can keep it far from me.

I’ve lived these past nineteen years in Duscae with my parents, Arthur and Louisa Willowby, on a little patch of land, part forest, part field, with nary a care for the larger world. My father spent the majority of his career in the Crownsguard, a soldier for King Regis, and spent weeks, sometimes months in the Crown City. My mother, also once in service to the King as a music teacher, retired when she found out she was pregnant with me. She and I were able to get by on our own while Father was away, cultivating our garden and raising a few animals. After an injury, my father was honorably discharged from service to retire. However, he claimed he needed to do more. He joined a local Hunter’s group, which basically made him a bounty hunter for large beasts and daemons that had begun to infiltrate the area. With his military background, he got a little cocky when agreeing to take a bounty. Even when a beast seemed out of his skill set, he wanted to make an attempt, to keep others safe. Yet this last mission, well, it was his last mission.

[athousandletterstotaylor]

Song of the week: I Hate It Here Dearest Taylor, First off, I should congratulate you with the amazing wins at the VMA's. I am so proud of you and seeing how gracefully you accept and win just makes me so much prouder. I hope to keep watching you win and shine and lighten up all the award shows for a long time! I am not doing great, although I have had the best time. That sounds mental but as I wrote last time, I went to Disney. Disney is my happy place, my secret garden, my escape. Unfortunately, I can not escape my illness and I could only visit the park for half days and had to sleep for quite a bit to gain enough energy to do another half day, the next day. Still, being half days inside of the magic lifted my spirits mentally tremendously and coming home in our little bungalow where my parents and brother were, was amazing. My brother even joined me to the parks one day and it was magical to be able to be a kid again with him, although we are 30. However lifted my spirits were, coming back home I had to pay the prize for having such a nice trip and meeting your limits in a place where I want to escape the world, also felt painful. The lyrics of I Hate It Here therefore matches my world perfectly right now, but luckily I have your music, Disney, and my books to be my escapes. Today I have also heard that my parent's house (where I moved back in) might get sold very soon now. It is the only home I have ever known, the place where I was born, grew up and always came back too. Possibly having to say goodbye to this makes me panic but I should be grateful to have had such an amazing place. My goodness, this letter is legit a mental sob story where I had the best time and hate my life and all that. I guess life is one big contradiction sometimes. The picture above has been taken in Jordan in June, the night after I fulfilled my big dream of watching the stars in the desert. It was like I literally was living a dream, as if I was in wonderland. A month later, I got to see you 3 times live at the Eras tour! Two months after that, I returned to Disneyland Paris and relived the magic once again. I will always remember those amazing moments and these memories will have prime positions in my secret garden. All my Love, T. @taylorswift

@taylornation

[thestarlightforge]

For Gus and Claudia

6/22/24

******

We can have spirit bonds with animals, I think. You don’t always bond with pets in your soul, just like you don’t always with people. But sometimes, we do.

I don’t know that I believe in “heaven,” exactly. But my childhood dog, Gus—a little white west highland terrier—came to visit me last night. A dream where we were walking with my family’s current dogs, and he was just there. He died in 2017. He was rarely clean in life, his coat a shaggy gray from rolling in the dirt. But he looked clean, fluffy and happy. He always does. He visits from time to time.

Our family has had several cats, too. I’ve loved them all, of course. But Claudia was special. A regal black with lush, medium-short hair. A white diamond on her breastbone, at the base of her throat, where she most liked to be petted. Declawed in the front and acclimated to indoor-outdoor before my parents adopted her, thus her premature death of borderline kidney failure at age 14, she was the most feared and fearsome warrior in our neighborhood nonetheless. She protected me from everything. When my folks put a screen door on my bedroom as a toddler, she tore through it to get to me. I would come home from school or baseball practice, or finish my dinner or homework inside, go to the front door and call, “Hey Clauuudia! I’m going to bed!” and she would come trotting up the street. She died when I was at school one day, in the sixth grade. My mom said she drifted off to sleep in her arms, a month into terminal illness, and she was buried in the garden by the time I got home. I sat in the dirt for hours that day, in front of the tiny cross made of sticks my mom had fashioned, and finished reading aloud the book I had been reading her every night that final week. I do not remember the book, but I do remember the dirt on my clothes. One of our last nights together, I cut off one corner of my childhood security blanket and one corner of the red plaid quilt she always slept on in my bed, told her they were hers, and said she would always be the best cat in the world to me. She walked on my back at night, kneading the knots before I was big enough for scoliosis surgery. The one picture I still have of her, which sits on my nightstand, is of us on our old living room couch together, before my sister was even born; she sat beside me, and I had one arm, already crooked from fractures, rested over her shoulders. Rain or shine, chaos or calm, she slept with me every single night of my life from my infancy until I was twelve years old, when she died—except for a couple nights that final week, when she slept with my little sister so she would know she loved her, too.

I’ve loved all my pets. My cat, Dany—also black, but with a tail crooked like my bones, a kindred spirit—is like a son to me. When I have nightmares, they are often of him getting injured or lost—as I would be without him—and he often sleeps on Claudia’s quilt. But sometimes, they are special. Sometimes, spirits are special. Our pets, friends, family chosen or by blood.

I have not seen Claudia in many years. I doubt this is because “only dogs go to heaven.” I think she is an astral warrior, now, trekking with Artemis across the stars, huntress goddesses on mighty missions. She has not visited me in a long time because she has important things to do. She will visit when she can, and in the meantime, when I catch a glimpse of sky dark enough to make out stars, I feel she is out there and I love her still. I was hers when I first learned how to dream, but she died before I knew who I was—before I could label how I loved, what I wanted, or what genders rested inside me. I hope she knew. Perhaps she did. I can only hope she knows how much I love her, hope she remembers our blink of time together fondly, and hope she is proud of me—that she finds me brave enough, and we will meet again someday.

I cried as I wrote this. It has been more than a decade, but some days, her absence aches as much as when we parted ways. If you’ve read this far, thank you for spending a little time with them—my Gus and Claudia. They were animals, but they sat with me through the hardest of times. There is something to being remembered, I think. Why wakes hurt, but they are sometimes called “celebrations of life.” Grief and separation can be sad, raw, painful—they can lap away at you, waves knocking you down. But they remind us of deep joy, also. Of the magic of spirits and connection. Of how lucky we are to live and to love.

[fan-de-las-tetas]

"Letter to a dreamed love"

We were meant to not achieve a happy ending since that sad morning you told me you were leaving, 'We can do it', we said like fools, believing that all the stories and anecdotes warning us that love at distance never works weren't gonna be true for us, because our love could win, because nothing bad could happen if we were together, even with two thousand kilometers between us. We had a time to be happy, after all. All day we were texting each other, sometimes all night too.

You were my first and my last message, you were my dreams and my sketchbook turned into a ode to you. We loved each other through texts and photos, we loved each other with two thousand kilometers of distance between your heart and mine.

We planed a future together, don't you remember? We imagined ourselves married, we even drew our wedding, we saw us in a cottage in El Bolsón, a garden in the front, cats of different colours, we were gonna be happy in a paradise that only existed in our imagination, in our drawings, in our letters.

We had anecdotes together, that's true, we had love, we had experience. We saw each other in video-calls, in videos, in pictures. And even so it wasn't enough, it never was. We yearned to see each other, to be together, to hug each other, to kiss, to touch, see each other face to face and feel close. We couldn't. We loved each other so much and it wasn't enough, maybe it wasn't in our destiny, maybe since the beggining we weren't meant to be, but we were blind, we wanted to, not accepting what deep inside us we knew.

'Tomorrow we're going to your city with my mum, to visit some family. Maybe I can convince mum to go to that beach close to your house', you told me one friday while in call.

'Oh, wonderful! I hope you can, so we can see each other'

Maybe that was what made us fail, in all the excitement and happiness we had we didn't have time to plan it deeply, to think for a bit, if we did maybe it could have worked, but there are many 'maybes', and those maybes don't exist for us.

It was a disastrous day, to say the least. We fought, we hurted, we bled inside, and all because we couldn't see us. I slept crying, and later you told me that you did too.

That day we realised of that eternal flaw in our relationship, like a bucket of cold water that fact let us freeze, hurt, broke. That thing we wanted so bad to ignore slapped us suddenly, leaving us doubting about our relationship and how it was going to work from then on. How would we get our cottage in El Bolsón? How would we get married? How woukd we have our happy ending? How would we see each other? How would we-?

Suddenly we had to realice that all the situations we imagined together were that, imaginations of little lonely teens, imaginations of dreamers who didn't want to wake up, and who woke up in a brusque way.

Our conversation started to be more serious, colder. Once we woke up we couldn't keep ignoring our reality, without a future in a cottage with cats and happiness in matching rings. Once we woke up, after two years dreaming, we decided to put an end on us. It was all very cold, your reasons totally logic and right, a mutual deal in wich we never hurt the other, we promised to never. We also promised that if we met again, if the opportunities were right, if our destiny said so, we would give each other another chance, to try what came out wrong and hope something different. We both promised, and it sounded less like a promise and more like other dream that would never be true, what was left of the dream we lived in and found a place in the convesation of two people who had wake up.

We haven't talked since, and there's this weird pain in my heart, a twinge that comes back when I remember your smile, when I listen the song you've dedicated me, when I see your pictures in my cellphone (those I never erased), when I see the drawings you gifted me (they're still in my wall). One part of me, a selfish little voice, a hopeful little voice, thinks about you and yearns for you to miss me with a twinge in your heart. Another part of me, a kind little voice, a broken little voice, thinks about you and hopes that you've never thought about me again, and wishes that you'll be inmensely happy.

There, where there's no cottage, no rings and no cats.

There, with two thousand kilometers between your heart and mine.

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.

[moon-lixie]

about a letter left to be found and a boy who disappeared into thin air.

word count: 2.046k

genre: slight angst

song: 말할 수 없는 비밀 (Secret Secret) - Stray Kids

I don't think any of you would be able to understand, not even if I sit down and speak all of my truths. Still, I think I owe an explanation.

With trembling hands he gathered his things, the notebooks filled with dreams spilling from the edges of every page, his favourite hoodies, the pair of bright red headphones he had since the beginning of high school.

From the open window a cold breeze came in and ruffled the slightly damp hair of the boy, paying special attention to the ends that were still clamped together due to the dampness.

He wasn't exactly in a hurry, but he still felt nervous and anxious, because even if it was almost impossible, at the back of his mind he was haunted by the idea of someone coming in and stopping him.

Moving quickly he reached down for the towel hanging around his shoulders and ruffled his hair a couple of times more until he felt satisfied.

First of all, I have no idea where I am going but know that I'm fine.

A loud sigh caressed his lips as it escaped, filling the room that he had always called his own, his little world nobody could disrupt because in between the forgotten comics and the piles of clothes sprawled here and there he had felt more at home than he has ever felt anywhere else.

Throwing the towel to the basket of dirty laundry at the end of the hallway, he finally finished everything he had to do, simply being left with staring at himself in the mirror and fixing the wild strands of hair that had been upset by the freshly washed hoodie hugging his torso.

He could barely muster a smile at his reflection, not because he was sad, but because it all felt surreal in a sense that left him wondering if it was still the middle of the night many years ago and the last years had been nothing but the hopeful dreams of his younger self.

Maybe it's a bit selfish of me to simply leave without a warning, but please understand that I want much more than this place could ever offer me.

He closed the front door of his house, locking it with the pair of keys his mother had given him once he turned twelve; they were still held together by the Pororo keychain he had bought one day after school with such an overwhelming excitement that made the memory pull at the corners of his lips.

It felt bizarre to walk away from the entrance of his home knowing that he was never really going to come back, that this was the last time.

Just like the very first time he had arrived there along with a moving truck packed with boxes and furniture, he felt breath leave his lungs at the sight of the white façade. It made him stop for a second and contemplate in utter silence.

Goosebumps coated the length of his arms once he turned around and kept moving forward at a steady pace, leaving his old bike behind as well.

Know that the decision to leave wasn't made in a haste, I've been thinking about it for long and now just seemed like the perfect time.

Mr. Kim lazily waved in his direction, gentle smile and downturned eyes with the familiar brown that reminded Jisung of his grandfather; maybe that's where he would go next, to visit his grandfather.

Without much thought he returned the sweet and familiar greeting, feeling a bit nostalgic when he thought back to all the summers that he had spent working with the man in his garden.

Back then a young Jisung had been happy to make a few bucks while getting to stay out all day in the yard playing with bugs and with the sun kissing the skin of his chubby cheeks and legs that weren't covered by his favourite pair of green shorts.

He couldn't help but wonder where had all that time run to because despite being the one who lived through it, he could barely make sense or when had he ended up where he was.

Time moved too fast and without a warning, it left everyone wondering.

It isn't easy to leave my whole life behind but it feels right, the mere idea makes me feel lighter because who knows who I'll get to be when I get to the end of my journey.

Perhaps I'll be braver, a little bit smarter, more mature, maybe even a couple of centimetres taller.

He could walk the streets with his eyes closed and still know where every bump and crack was in the sidewalk, he could still point where his old school was, where the closest convenience store stepped in his way and as usual tempted him to buy a snack even on those days were his pockets were empty and his tummy full.

From there he knew his way to everywhere else in town, he even knew how long it would take him to get to said places on foot or with his trusty bike.

It all felt too easy and familiar, too comfortable, and those things weren't bad at all but Jisung thought he had had enough of them. He craved discovering himself inside the walls of another place so foreign that every single one of his truths were only known by himself.

Was it silly? That he thought a change of scenery would make him a new person, one much more alike to who he truly was.

Sometimes talking to someone isn't enough, because you don't think they'll understand, you know they won't. That's why I never said anything about the deepest desires looming in my heart or the biggest fears that tied me down for as long as I can remember.

All the interrogations running leaps around his mind made him walk faster, filling him with the same dreadful excitement he felt every first day of school, one that mixed with nervousness and fear.

He wasn't sure if starting fresh would let him be someone whose fears didn't weigh upon his heart so harshly, he wasn't sure if he would get to be the person he had always wished he could be but he could only hope.

Hope had been what drove him this far and today he was giving it full control of where his feet moved to, control over how his next day would look like or where he would wake up the next day.

Never in his life had he felt more ready to wander around by himself.

But I guess, since I'm going, it's only fair that I try to sit down and talk to someone, hoping that they will understand even if my words are scarce and there will be nobody to talk back to at the end of this letter.

On the horizon the sun rushed to slumber, leaving a comforting lilac pooling around the clouds and making them stand out even more.

Night hovered over his shoulders making him breathe with much more ease because if there was something that portrayed hope and tomorrow with an uncanny resemblance and lack of effort, it was the night sky with its endless stars and its shining moon.

In his childhood days he had discovered that there was no better cure for uncertainty and a nostalgic heart than staring up at the night sky; there was something about it that made him feel like time stopped for an instance, that time wasn't quite as unforgiving while the veil of darkness covered everything.

If he could go anywhere he wanted —which he was already doing— he would wish to go to the sky, not the endless and uncertain space, but the idea of the sky that humans have in their ignorance, a canvas that goes no further than our eyes can see.

Ever since I can remember I've felt like there was a place for me somewhere out there, a place I always called home without knowing what it really was.

It wasn't like I didn't feel at home here, there was just a feeling in my chest that told me out there I could feel completely free in the way I've always craved.

For him it had always felt unfair, how everyone got to live and walk around without the things that kept him back. Of course when he grew older he understood that everyone had their own problems but sometimes that was easy to ignore when one's own darkness loomed around their heart.

He had spent many years wishing, praying to whoever was listening, that he could just be himself without the voices in his head and the uncertainties that made every single one of his steps be cautious.

Nobody seemed to have listened as years went by and things got harder, still, he never gave up and even though he could never really say that there was nothing else bothering him he could at least say that he had everything under control.

If time is unforgiving it also is healing, and for him it had healed many wounds that couldn't be seen.

Unknowingly I spent a lot of time wanting to go to that place, craving to find where it was.

Some years ago I understood that it perhaps wasn't a place but a version of myself that could bring such soothing feelings. That's where I'm going to, that's why I have no destination.

He wanted to believe that nothing had been planned, that his savings carefully stuffed at the bottom of his backpack had just been him being responsible about his money and having enough for the impulsiveness that one day had won over reason and had driven him to this adventure.

He wanted to pretend but it was stupid to do now, there was nobody around to judge him or question his motives, so there was no use in not being honest with himself.

Thinking back to all those evenings spent running around the small restaurant in which he had found a job, he could see that perhaps this plan had been many years in the making.

Unconsciously he had always been hoping for a moment like this, a moment of unadulterated freedom.

Hopefully I do get there, hopefully I get to be happy and everyone I left behind does too.

The journey to happiness, to authenticity, to being unapologetically himself, had taken him to the airport, another thing that wasn't as spontaneous as he had tried to make it seem.

Passport in hand and trembling self, the whiteness of the place and the various people walking back and forth made him realise that this was really going on, he was really leaving.

For the first time in his life overthinking had no place in his plans.

I wish to be who I am meant to and disappearing was perhaps the thing I had always been destined to do. A boy who disappeared into thin air, that's who I am, a boy with secrets that weigh down on my heart and that I'm unwilling to carry with me on this journey.

Approaching the desk he was met with a young woman, in her mid twenties or early thirties, sweet but practised smile covering her lips as she recited the words that he must've learned a long time ago when she first started working there.

"I want a ticket for the next flight available," Jisung said, offering a reassuring smile after the confused look the woman gave him.

He looked around as the sounds of typing filled his ears and before he had time to start regretting something the ticket had been placed on his palm and his savings were short by a considerable amount.

I'm afraid that wasn't much of an explanation but it was my truth.

Good luck and see you whenever we're meant to cross paths.

The last thing he saw before falling asleep were the clouds from above and the sky now completely dark like the many nights he had wondered where he belonged.

Now he had an answer, he belonged wherever he felt free and right then in that comfortable plane seat he felt the freest he had ever been.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 6 - ao3 -

As Lao Nie had predicted, Lan Qiren won the music competition.

This by itself would not excuse him from punishment – disobedience was disobedience, regardless of the result – but Lan Qiren’s brother, proud of the glory that had accrued to their sect under his leadership, decided that it mitigated it somewhat, and as a result the imposition of the appropriate penalty was postponed until they returned to the Cloud Recesses. There was a strong implication that any future misbehavior during the trip would be added in when determining the extent of the punishment, but Lan Qiren didn’t care about that: with his brother’s word, however careless, overriding his teacher’s, he was finally allowed to go out to look around the Nightless City.

Of course, by now all the other disciples had settled firmly into their groups, so he was still alone - he opted not to mention that to his brother. Given how cautious his brother was being to make sure that the conference went well and without interruption, he knew it would invariably result in his either being forced into someone else’s group or to not go out, and he didn’t want either of those. Anyway, he could take precautions by himself: since he knew he was traveling alone, he would be careful to stay in the areas that were indicated as safe, although he thought happily to himself that soon he would be old enough to go wherever he wanted without concern – not that he especially longed to go to the districts full of brothels or drug dens, of course.

It was reasonable to be cautious for now, though, given his unfamiliarity with cities. He was as dazzled by the massive night market – as boisterous as any of the daytime markets – as any country yokel, and the items available for purchase were as many and varied as the people who came to the Nightless City to sell them. It was almost a pity to have to return to the Sun Palace the next day for the remaining events of the discussion conferences, largely academic discussions and skill exchanges, or the day after, to spectate on the other competitions, both the minor ones for things like calligraphy and mathematics and, more importantly, the second main event, showcasing skill in riding.

Lan Qiren wasn’t competing, of course, but he obediently showed up to observe – or, rather, to daydream about something more interesting while keeping his face carefully oriented towards the competition stage – and the second he could, he slipped away into the depths of the Sun Palace once the competition itself was over. Actually leaving entirely would be rude, of course, even if it would have been his real preference to return to the wonders of the city. Still, he would much rather walk through the halls than endure the inevitable rounds of mutual congratulations that invariably occurred during the celebration held after the discussion conference’s main competition. All those sect leaders buttering each other up…

There were times, he reflected, when he was very happy to have been born a younger son.

Lan Qiren did his best to avoid any places where people were gathered, turning back at once if he saw the rooms were occupied. There was no formal banquet tonight, to his relief – they’d all eaten while waiting for the competition to finish – but the socializing had started in earnest, and it felt like there were people everywhere. It would go on late into the night, with sect leaders toasting each other from the endless jars of wine that could be found everywhere, and there would be a thousand and one boring retellings of the same old stories everyone always told at these things.

Better to avoid people.

Certainly better to avoid people like Wen Ruohan, Lan Qiren thought, backing away from a room that appeared to be a small library, where the sect leader was standing and gazing out of the window, not far from a small table with two place settings already laid out. Its presence suggested a more private rendezvous was anticipated, and others more inclined to gossip than he might have chosen to stay and try to see if they could figure out who Wen Ruohan would be meeting – probably Lao Nie, if Lan Qiren had to guess, given the whole Hanhan situation – or possibly to try to form a further connection with the aloof and arrogant sect leader, but Lan Qiren kept his brother’s warnings in mind: Wen Ruohan was dangerous.

Anyway, he’d gotten into more than enough trouble for one trip.

After a little more searching, he found a small, secluded garden – quite possibly the very same one from a few days before, now that he thought about it, though he’d long lost any sense of direction he might have had – and settled down on the bench with a relieved sigh. The party was far too loud and too boisterous for his taste, with far too many people. He might long for adventure and new experiences, but it was the lonely road and quiet towns that called to him, and sometimes also the massive and faceless cities, not the full-of-themselves sect leaders, each one in love with their own voice, that seemed to pride themselves on talking at least once to everyone who attended.

At any rate, it wasn’t his problem. His brother had made clear that he didn’t want Lan Qiren to assist him in forming connections for the sect – assuming he even could, with his terrible social skills that mostly made his brother and most of his etiquette teachers want to forget he even existed – and that meant he was completely justified in hiding himself away here where no one would find him.

“I never got a chance to congratulate you on your victory,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Qiren started in sudden surprise, having not heard someone enter the room.

Though, he supposed as he rose to salute, he wouldn’t – the difference between his cultivation and Wen Ruohan’s was like night and day.

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said respectfully, keeping his head down. His brother had been especially clear that he wasn’t to cause trouble for this man in particular. Not like last time, even though Lan Qiren still wasn’t entirely clear on what it was that he was supposed to have done wrong previously. He was starting to think he’d never figure it out.

Wen Ruohan walked into the room, his pace as slow and graceful as it had been three years ago – the glide of a very self-assured predator that knew itself to be the unquestioned master of its domain, not only fearless but also smug in its self-evident superiority. The aura of power, his cultivation at a level that could scarcely be dreamed of by most people, draped around him like a gaudy cloak, meant to excite envy and fear in equal measure.

Lan Qiren had heard rumors that Wen Ruohan would sometimes use the sheer weight of his power to lock people into place, forcing them to their knees or backs on the floor in front of him, humiliating and tormenting them for his own amusement, but he didn’t feel anything like that. It was a display of power, yes, but no more so than the priceless spiritual gem that hung on Wen Ruohan’s forehead or the luxurious quality of his clothing, white and red flame, black belt and gauntlets, the finest fabrics and the best embroidery.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “Or at least the hem of your robes – were you running away from me?”

Lan Qiren’s face suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. “No, of course not!”

That interpretation hadn’t even occurred to him. Had he really been rude? Should he have stopped to greet him properly? He hadn’t thought so, since he hadn’t even entered the room, but his instincts on such things had always been terrible…

And there was still his brother’s exhortation not to spend time with Wen Ruohan.

“Forgive my rudeness, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, dropping back down into a second low bow before rising again. “No slight was intended. I’m not supposed to be alone with other sect leaders.”

“No? And yet yesterday I recall seeing you sitting here with Sect Leader Nie.”

That was true.

What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Yes, but he’s nice’? ‘But I’ve known him for years’? ‘He’s one of our sect allies, you’re too dangerous’? ‘I was told to avoid you specifically’?

Lan Qiren might not be the best at social niceties, but even he knew he couldn’t say something like that.

His face must be demonstrating some degree of his panic, because Wen Ruohan chuckled.

“You can make it up by spending some time with me now, little Lan,” he said, waving a hand in forgiveness. “Come with me – the study is far more comfortable than this garden, especially at this time of year.”

Lan Qiren didn’t really have any knowledge of what the garden was like at this time as opposed to other times, being that this was his only visit so far to the Nightless City, but he had no reason to question Wen Ruohan’s judgment on the matter.

A quick mental review suggested that he had no choice but to comply. His brother had been emphatic that Lan Qiren wasn’t allowed to draw Wen Ruohan’s ire, even if it meant complying with his instructions as if Wen Ruohan were an elder of his own sect; moreover, refusing now would probably be impolitic, especially given the other man’s misinterpretation of his earlier avoidance. In short, despite his best efforts, Lan Qiren had clearly stumbled into a social trap of what he assumed must be his own making. It usually was, after all.

It’ll be another punishment for this, probably, he thought, resigned. He didn’t think that anyone was going to come get him out of this anytime soon, no matter what his brother had said, and he was bound to trip up and say something embarrassing sooner or later. At least there’s only this evening and then the closing ceremonies in the morning – the sooner we get home, the sooner discipline can be imposed and the entire fiasco put behind us.

“Of course, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, and belatedly noticed that some of his resignation had seeped into his voice. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will join you.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled again. “Most people would say that they were pleased to join me,” he remarked, turning and leading the way, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “But you don’t lie, do you? It’s one of your rules.”

Lan Qiren felt helpless, following a few steps behind him like a small fishing boat caught in the wake of a warship. “It is one of our rules,” he agreed, since saying that he was happy to join Wen Ruohan would in fact be a lie. “I try to obey them whenever possible.”

“You’ve gotten wiser since we last met. I think I recall that last time, you said always obey the rules?”

“Wisdom comes with age.”

“Is that flattery?”

“Respect for one’s elders.” Lan Qiren paused. “Also a rule.”

“Of course,” Wen Ruohan opened the door to the study that he had been in earlier, the small library with its single table and two settings and window showing the outdoors, and swept inside. “Tell me, then, as the expert in your rules – what rule is it that allows the Lan sect to develop such skilled politicians? One would assume that lying was a prerequisite.”

He doesn’t actually care about the rules, Lan Qiren tried to remind himself, his brother’s voice echoing in his ears. And yet what else could he possibly talk about with Wen Ruohan? It was a question the other man had posed directly, and he was supposed to be obedient, or at least try to be…and he really, truly enjoyed talking about the rules.

“There’s some debate on that subject,” he temporized, but Wen Ruohan arched an eyebrow and inclined his head in an invitation for him to continue. “Some posit that the rules regarding the obligations to honor one’s elders and protect one’s family require that the benefit of the sect take priority over other obligations. Others take the view that not lying is an obligation of general good conduct, which cannot be disregarded, but that it is mitigated by other rules – do not speak frivolous words, for instance.”

“I take it that you’re in the latter camp.”

Lan Qiren was, as it happened, but he wasn’t sure he should say so. After all, it was Wen Ruohan’s ancestor who had first raised up his family and started the tradition of the clan as the sect rather than schools as it had once been, and by all accounts the process of doing so had been a bloody one – what was that if not a belief that your family takes priority over the common good?

He couldn’t say that, though.

Speak meagerly, for excess words only bring harm.

“I am,” he finally said, since Wen Ruohan was still waiting for him to respond. “It is a matter of personal opinion.”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from continuing to talk. There were at least fifteen other points of interest that had come to mind at once - the rule against lying was one of the more debated ones, and of course there were all sorts of writings on the subject of balancing worldly concerns with philosophical ideals more generally. And it was so rare for someone to actually express interest in it!

Speak meagerly, he reminded himself desperately. Meagerly! Haven’t you done enough harm already?

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said. “Come, sit.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on the sect leader’s time,” Lan Qiren protested automatically. “If you’re already expecting company…”

“Who says I am?”

Lan Qiren looked helplessly at the table. There were two place settings, as he’d briefly glimpsed earlier, and a few snacks laid out already, mostly grilled vegetables – it was perfect place for a private meeting to talk business with another sect leader, which Lan Qiren wasn’t, or else to sit and converse with an old friend, which Lan Qiren definitely wasn’t.

“The servants make it up that way preemptively,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twitched as he realized that the other man had come up behind him, standing a little too close. “They do it in all the rooms, in the event someone wishes to use it. There’s no one coming.”

For some reason, that sounded almost ominous.

Presumably just Lan Qiren’s bad social sense again. Such a display was likely nothing more than the Wen sect showing off yet again, this time in terms of their wealth and the number of servants.

And, well, if the table really had just been set out to be used, surely it would be wrong not to use it? There were rules about avoiding waste, too.

“In that case, I thank Sect Leader Wen for the honor of the invitation,” he said, and sat down properly, sweeping his sleeves back and arranging himself. That it got him a little further away from Wen Ruohan was not as much of a secondary consideration as it probably should have been. “Would you like me to serve tea?”

“I was thinking something stronger,” Wen Ruohan said, sitting down as well, and reaching for the jar already there. “Why not a toast to your family’s victory? A double victory, no less, with you taking first in music and your brother the same in riding. Most impressive.”

Lan Qiren hesitated. That was a very appropriate toast, complimentary – exactly within the boundaries of what an elder ought to say to a junior, really. And yet, at the same time…

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said uncomfortably as Wen Ruohan poured out a double helping in each bowl. It was clear liquor, not wine. “This one apologizes, but…I am not accustomed to drinking.”

“No?” Wen Ruohan was smiling, but when Lan Qiren obediently met his eyes, there seemed almost to be something dangerous about his expression.

“It’s not that I question the quality,” Lan Qiren said hastily. “It’s only – you see – alcohol is prohibited –”

It was one of the rules. Unfortunately, it was one of the more controversial ones: it was generally waived outside of the Cloud Recesses, given how often hospitality required some form of drinking, and there were still elders in the Lan sect who simply refused to obey it at all, citing its uncertain lineage.

They were not in the Cloud Recesses now.

Wen Ruohan started laughing. “Little Lan,” he said. “Are you saying you’ve never had wine before? Aren’t you sixteen already?”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders involuntarily rose to his ears. “I’ve had wine!”

But only peach blossom wine, or rose wine, served at weddings as a toast for good fortune – but he couldn’t admit to that, since that was all kid’s stuff, barely classified as alcohol. He’d never even tried Emperor’s Smile, for which Gusu was famed.

Wen Ruohan’s smirk suggested that he’d guessed the truth anyway.

“It’s only a toast,” he said instead of calling him out on it, picking up his own bowl. “Surely you wouldn’t reject my good faith?”

When it was put like that, of course, there was nothing to be done for it.

Do not draw his ire, his brother had counseled him. If he approaches you, respond gracefully and comply with his wishes until someone comes to recover you.

After all, Wen Ruohan was well known for being moody and unpredictable, for having all sorts of strange whims and no inclination to refrain from indulging himself in them. Lan Qiren had no idea why he might suddenly be inclined to desire Lan Qiren’s company, of all people, nor as to why he would insist on him drinking a toast – at most, he could only speculate that it amused Wen Ruohan to force him to do things with which he was visibly uncomfortable.

And yet, as the saying went, it was unwise to refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit. Wen Ruohan, as the host, as the elder, as the powerful, could very easily press the issue even more than he already was, escalating from an interpersonal discussion to an intersect issue.

And how could Lan Qiren explain that to his brother?

“Of course not,” Lan Qiren said, giving in and lifting the bowl. “Thank you for your toast, Sect Leader Wen.”

He put the bowl to his lips and drank.

The liquor tasted sharp in a way with which he was unfamiliar, he observed, curious despite himself at the new experience, and it burned his throat when he swallowed. The sensation was almost distinctly unpleasant, actually, and he had to force his gag reflex not to activate, tears coming to his eyes.

He wondered, briefly, why people inflicted such a thing on themselves.

And then, just as he was thinking that, the alcohol hit him all at once like a tidal wave, descending in an overwhelming crash that obliterated all his senses.

[sockablock]

The fires dance and shimmer over Vo, but only on the beaches, and not with any fear.

Instead, there is laughter singing through the trees. There is singing, too, warm and bright, the sound of two dozen amateur dancers cheering in the moonlight. 

Somewhere, Yasha is helping a hunter cut logs for the blaze. Somewhere, Jester is telling stories to children about an unknown world. Somewhere, Beau is criticizing a cask of island-wine, and getting very drunk. Somewhere, Veth and Caleb are helping a very old woman fix a watch. 

Fjord straightens up and sticks his poker into the sand, watching the embers go out with a little hiss. He stretches, loosening his neck and wincing when his bruises argue back. He’d gotten thrashed around Vokodo’s cavern pretty hard at the end, there, but most of the firebloom burns are gone now, and between two clerics and a vengeful druid, he doesn’t have much to complain about.

He glances around the beach and can smell the first sizzle of cooking meat. Something fruity hovers past, and he can hear Beau’s singing growing louder.

And then, he notices something else, in the corner of his vision. Past the celebration, farther down the shore, sitting on the sand with his knees against his chest—

It’s Caduceus. His outline is purple in the twilight.

Fjord considers the fire. The music, and then he leaves the poker to finish smoldering by itself. 

By the time he’s nearly reached Caduceus, the merriment of the bonfire is barely a hum amid the turning tides. Light carries farther, though, and here it reflects an orange sea across the starry waves. It would be beautiful, it is beautiful, although it reminds Fjord a little too much of their last fight. He ignores it, instead focusing on the seated shape in front of him.

“Caduceus, you’re going to miss the food at this rate."

There is no immediate answer. Fjord stops, and raises his brow. 

"Caduceus? Oh, shit, is this a vegetarian thing? We should’ve said something earli...er...”

In this light, his friend is mostly shadow, but for a second it almost looks as if Caduceus raises an arm, wipes his face...

Fjord stops. He dares himself to have seen it wrong, and blinks.

"...Caduceus?!” This time, he is shouting. “Cad, is...everything alright?!”

It could be the waves, but for a second, a sniffle, and then—

“Oh, Mister Fjord, I didn’t hear you c—”

“Are you crying?”

Fjord clears the distance in a second, scattering sand everywhere. A part of him instantly curses the decision, why in the world would you rush at him—but another part, the honest part, the deeply confused part, is too worried to do anything else.

But Caduceus...laughs. It’s more stilted than it should be, though then again, Cad’s always been a weird one, in a special way—

Until Fjord sees the tears. There are two streaks of dampness matting Cad’s fur.

“Oh,” he says, before he can stop himself. 

There is a flash in Caduceus’s eyes. It is so small, so brief, so hidden away, that if Fjord had not been staring at him, he would have missed it entirely.

It’s panic. Caduceus says, “No, don’t mind me, Mister Fjord, I think I might’ve gotten carried away.”

Fjord’s mouth opens. It closes. It opens again.

“Carried away?”

“Just a bit.”

Fjord manages to stop gawking on the third try. He drops down, wincing a little at the sharp movement but ending in a determined, eye-level squat.

“Carried away,” he repeats.

Caduceus does not meet his gaze. His voice, when it finally does comes, is more unsteady than Fjord has ever heard.

“I, ah, I think...today was just a lot. It was...there was a lot.”

“Yes, well...yeah,” Fjord says, and tries to shuffle his back into Cad’s face. More sand kicks up around his ankles. “We did fight a fake fire god and nearly set off a volcano. Then again, that sort of thing feels somewhat standard for us.”

Caduceus coughs, and only after a second does Fjord realize it’s a laugh. 

“We, we do certainly get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Right,” says Fjord, still slightly mystified. He glances around the beach, sees Caduceus still avoiding him, hears the raucous melody of cheering far behind.

He looks up. He looks down. Then:

“...can I sit?”

There’s a vague gesture in response. Fjord accepts this as an answer.

The sand is cool. The wind sweeps across his hair.

“I’m...not very...I think I might have a reputation for being somewhat unobservant,” he says, after a pause. “Sometimes. But...I don’t think I’m a fool, Caduceus. Though even a fool could see that you’re upset.”

“I’m n—”

“I’m not done.” He looks up. Far, far above them, the stars glimmer bright. “I think...I think...that although I wasn’t there to see it initially, I believe that ever since you came to join our little troupe, your presence has been very good for us. I worry that...maybe, we haven’t returned the favor.”

“Favor?” Caduceus chuckles. “There’s no favor to return.”

There is a weight to Fjord’s silence.

“Hm. I wonder about that.”

Caduceus feels his brow furrow. He tries to stop it, but it does.

“Mister Fjord,” he says softly, “I don’t expect anything from you.”

“Right,” Fjord nods. “In that case...it’s a failing on our part.”

The waves ebb and flow on the shore. They are far away enough not to fear getting wet, but close enough still to taste the salt breeze.

“Why are you upset?” Fjord murmurs. “Is it...was it the fight? Are you hurt, or—”

“Oh, no. Not me.”

He glances over.

“Then...?”

Caduceus stares at the ground. His boots are off, and little grains of sand cling to his armor.

“Do you...ever feel...frustrated, Fjord?”

“Hah! Is that really your question?”

When the pause carries on, Fjord clears his throat.

“Er...yes, Caduceus. I do.”

“What about guilty? Very guilty.”

“Uh...sure, I think so. Maybe not...I’m not so sure to what degree you’re talking, here, but I’ve definitely had regrets.”

“And...what about feeling like you’re a burden?”

Fjord leans back on his palms. “Caduceus, are we just going down the list of how I go about my day?”

“No,” and when Caduceus chuckles, Fjord can see a little gleam of moonlight against his fur. “I’m, ah, I’m going down mine.”

“Oh.”

“It’s...it was bad on this island. It was...I felt those things...a lot. And, well,” he gives another laugh, “well, it sort of came to a head down in that tunnel.”

Fjord considers this.

“The...”

“The underwater one,” Caduceus says. “When the...the fireblooms opened all around us and I...lost to Vokodo.”

Fjord blinks. “You mean...oh, well...plenty of us had fallen to him at that point, didn’t we? I mean, Yasha forgot the name of her wife and Jester lost her beard oil, er, my beard oil, and I forgot Vandren, and...” 

He trails off, when he sees Cad look up.

“Right,” says Caduceus, “I forgot things too. But...I did something worse. I hurt you.”

Fjord hesitates. “You...didn’t really—”

“I did,” says Caduceus. “I fought against you. I blinded you. And you spent all your spells on me, and when the fight started, you couldn’t defend yourself, and got even more injured.”

“Well,” says Fjord, with as much certainty as he can muster, “I don’t know if...three spells would’ve really changed much.” Then he pauses again, and adds, “Not, uh, not that the gifts of the Wildmother are anything to scoff at. You know.”

Behind them, smoke pours up into the sky. They can’t smell it from here, but the feast is beginning, all joining in together to celebrate, save for two.

“They aren’t,” Caduceus says slowly, “but...do you want to know something, Fjord?”

“Er...of course.”

He also leans back. Also takes a second to breathe deep by the sea.

“In that moment, when I...fell to Vokodo. It was...exhilarating. It...it felt...it felt like...well,” he murmurs a laugh. “It felt like, for a second I had a purpose again.”

Foam dissolves into the sand. Far, far away, a hermit crab surfaces.

“A...purpose?”

“A mission. A goal, a journey, a...a divine reassurance that I was on the right path. It’s something that I...haven’t had since I saw my family.”

“You...wait, really? Why?”

“Well,” Caduceus gives a shrug. “Well, I suppose it’s because I did fulfill that purpose. We got the green glass. We visited the Dusts, and then the Stones, and my family went home to save the Grove. That was all I dreamed about, all that I knew I had to accomplish for...for decades. And we...did it. I did it. And now...it’s over.”

He takes a deep breath.

“And now...I’m just here. I have faith that she’s guiding me to where I need to go, but...where? Why? And...sometimes, even that is...even that feels...”

Fjord turns, and sees Caduceus staring at him. His hair is a tangle tripping down his back. His eyes are hesitant, shining in the moonlight.

“Sometimes...when I am with you all,” he says quietly, “sometimes I just feel...free.”

The waves come and go. The tiny hermit crab faces down an endless, churning, ever-flowing sea.

“She likes freedom, doesn’t she?” Fjord murmurs. “Isn’t that...I mean...that’s what she’s meant to me.”

Caduceus smiles. It’s a half-risen thing. “She meant duty to the Clays. A legacy to fulfill. A home to tend to, a garden to grow, people and family to take care of.”

Fjord meets his gaze. “Is that what you want?”

Caduceus doesn’t answer right away. When he does:

“...I don’t know anymore. Sometimes...I think I want to tend to our friends. Take care of them. Help you all grow to where you can be.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

They are quiet for a moment. Then:

“What about other times?” Fjord murmurs. “What about then?”

Caduceus glances up. He takes in the thousands of stars above him, watches a thousand lights fade and glow.

“It can be scary to not have a purpose.”

“I managed. I managed for...oof, maybe thirty years?”

“Did you like it?” 

Fjord shrugs. “I didn’t know anything else. Then, for a while, I thought my purpose was to fill a role. Be a captain. Become powerful. But...I didn’t much like that.”

“No,” Caduceus chuckles. “I didn’t think you did.”

“In a way, though,” Fjord sighs, “I mean...I don’t really know if I have a purpose either. Most of the time...I’m just here. I’m just...doing my thing. As a member of the Mighty Nein. I’m helping our friends as much as I can, and I’m getting to see the world. And learn new things. And...in doing so, I...well, I think maybe I’ve been more free than I ever had been. Maybe that’s a purpose. Even if it doesn’t feel like, I dunno, divine providence, or whatever, I’m...I’m still happy doing it. I love our friends. I think that’s enough.”

“Yes,” Caduceus says quietly. “I...I’m happy with them too.”

“Well, there you go, then!” Fjord taps him on the arm. “Maybe that’s all you really need. And I’m sorry it doesn’t feel...feel like a godly mission, but it still should be worth hanging onto, no?”

When he glances back, Caduceus is still looking at him.

“Right,” he echoes. “I think it is.”

Maybe it’s the beach, or the heat from the bonfire, but Fjord can feel his face getting a little warm. He coughs.

“I hope, er, that helped. I don’t know if that’s...good advice, to turn other people into your purpose. Because now that I think about it, it does still sort of sound like that whole garden-tending thing, which is a little contradictory—”

“Fjord?”

“Um, yes?”

“It helped.”

“Oh, good.”

“Fjord?”

“...um. Yes?”

Caduceus’s eyes are turned to the sky.

“I want to be free, too. But...I would like to be free with everyone else. And with you.”

Fjord coughs again. Though it isn’t as sharp. And the warmness is nice.

“I’d like that too.”

They sit there on the beach for a while after that. Later, perhaps, their friends will realize that they are missing, and come calling for them. Later, perhaps, there will be food to share and island-wine to drink and songs to sing. Later, they will sleep in huts beneath the stars and even after that, much, much later, perhaps there will even be a new path, a new journey, a new mission to follow and a new purpose to chase.

But all that will happen later. For now, all there is, is the sound of the waves, the brush of wind, and freedom, together.

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

[imagineyourworld-old]

The Duchess and the Captain (Part Two)

Rex x Fem!Duchess!Reader

Summary: You get to know your husband, Duke Palpatine, and quickly realize what you will be missing in your marriage. Can Captain Rex make you feel better?

Warnings: Mentions of smut (maybe slight smut, I don’t really know, sex is not forced on the reader but expected of her and therefore might be triggering to some, but no detailed descriptions) 

Previous Part, Masterlist

-------

The next few days passed you by in a heartbeat. You spend most of your time getting acquainted with your new home, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. In addition to the main house there was the orangerie, a small tea parlor in the park and two different gardens just for afternoon strolls. And of course the stables, houses for servants, barracks for the guards and so many other building you didn’t even try to remember.

“You really are lucky”, your mother sighed with a content smile.

The two of you were strolling through the rose garden behind the house, the smaller of the two gardens. It was beautiful, everything was well kept and every flower had its place, but every time you were here you felt out of place. Confined to your life, trapped like the birds that Padmé had told you your husband insisted to keep locked in cages in the garden.

“I will be sad to leave you, but I really do need to get back to your father and brother. Now that you’re happily married it’s Edward’s turn and finding him a wife will be a lot more challenging than finding you a husband, you know how stubborn he can be.”

Though you tried you couldn’t really listen to your mother. All she talked about was how lucky you were to be married to the Duke, how happy she was for you and how excited you must be to see your husband again tomorrow.

You let your gaze sweep through the garden until it halted at General Skywalker. The General had been following whenever you set foot outside the house, and even inside he was never far. The first time you met he had told you that those were your husband’s wishes, that he was only there to keep you safe, but part of you feared he might be reporting your every move back to the Duke. Even the smile the General send you could not easy your suspicions.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Finally your mother’s word rang through to you.

“I’m sorry. I’m just... lost in my thoughts...”

Your mother put a reassuring hand on your arm. You leaned into the familiar touch, a small piece of home in this strange new place.

“Are you thinking of your husband? Do you miss him very much?”

Sometimes you were sure your mother had to be joking. She must realize that you didn’t love, didn’t even like, Palpatine. And it wasn’t just the age difference, which in itself made every interaction with him awkward, he was just so cold. It was obvious he cared as little for you as you did for him and that might have been what bothered you most. You had been more or less forced to marry him, for his money, his title and because no one else had asked to marry you, but he could have had anyone. Half the girls in the country would have married him in an instant, so why did he choose someone he didn’t have any feelings for? Why did he waste his one chance at happiness and propose to you?

“I... I was just thinking that our marriage might not be as it should. We’re nothing like you and father”, you finally said, hoping this would both voice your concerns and not be too obvious about them. But your mother just laughed.

“Darling, that is normal. Relationships take time and work, your father and I didn’t instantly fall in love, but when you’re raising a family together and spending your lives together love will come. And you are so easy to love, it will be alright.”

You should have known your mother would not understand your concerns, she had never shared your dreams of marrying for love, of being swept off your feet in a fairytale like romance. Before you could pretend to agree with her, however, you were interrupted.

Obi-Wan came to a halt before you. He inclined his head in a small bow before addressing you and your mother.

“Your Grace, my lady, the Duke has returned and wishes to see you.”

At first you thought, though you knew it was wishful thinking, that he was talking about another Duke. Maybe one of your husband’s friends had come to visit and wanted to meet you for the first time. But you knew you would have had to face Palpatine, even if he was a day early.

“Thank you, Kenobi. Thought I would like to change before greeting my husband. If you would be so kind as to send Padmé up to my room.

The butler nodded.

“Certainly, my lady.”

-------

-------

Half an hour later you were sitting in the drawing room with your husband.

“I take it the house is to your liking”, he said.

Those were the first words either of you had spoken since your “Good afternoon” ten minutes earlier.

You sat your cup down on the saucer and smiled at him. A smile you hoped seemed happy and sincere.

“Very much, thank you.”

Silence took hold of you again. You refrained from playing with your spoon or the hem of your dress, two of your nervous habits your mother had told you a thousand times to drop.

You looked around the beautiful room. The curtains were moving ever so slightly in the wind that came through the open windows, one of your husband’s ancestors was staring at you from the huge portray above the fire place, his eyes seemed to follow your every move.

“I will only be here one night. Urgent business calls me away my estate in Naboo tomorrow, technically I should not even be spending the night and go there right away, but I suppose we should get to work.”

You turned away from the picture to look at the Duke. He was staring at you with an unreadable expression in his cold eyes, so cold and calculating, they almost made you shiver.

“I’m not sure I understand”, you said, hating how weak and uncertain you sounded. “What ‘work’ are you referring to?”

For a moment your husband’s masked moved as he looked at you in shock. You hated how he could make you feel dumb and inferior without saying a single word, but you knew it was not your place to say anything about that.

“I am of course talking about producing an heir.”

Now you couldn’t stop the shiver. You knew you had to give your husband an heir, multiple if possible, but part of you had hoped he would forget all about that part of your marriage after your wedding night. But you knew your duty and you had heard more than enough stories about women who refused their husbands, or even had lovers, and the terrible things that happened to them and no matter how much you didn’t want to, you would rather get it over with than suffer the same fate.

“Yes, I... of course. I am looking forward to it.”

Another cold glance from Palpatine and the very forced smile fell from your lips.

“It is not for you to look forward to or to enjoy, it’s is your duty.”

All you managed to do was nod. What else were you supposed to do? Where you supposed to answer anything?

Palpatine seemed content with your reaction though. He placed his tea on the small table between you and got up.

“One more thing”, he said as he reached the door. “I will be taking General Skywalker with me from now on, there were some... disputes the last couple of days and I will be needing more protection. Captain Rex will be your personal guard from now on.”

Without so much as a goodbye he left the drawing room and closed the door behind him.

With a loud sigh you leaned back on the couch, ignoring where your corset dug into your ribs uncomfortably. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“It’s just one night, he’ll be gone again tomorrow”, you whispered, knowing that it might just be one night this time, but that your husband would always come back for more and there was nothing you could to to stop him.

“My lady, are you alright?”

You hadn’t heard anyone entering the room, but even without looking you recognized the familiar voice. Though the words were professional, the tone made it clear that Rex wasn’t just asking because it was expected of him, he really cared, at least to some degree. 

You opened your eyes to find his own focused on your face, an uncertain look in them, as if he wanted to step closer but didn’t dare to. 

“No”, you whispered. 

Abruptly you sat up straight again. Panic flooded through your veins. You were supposed to say “I’m fine”, not tell anyone, especially a guard, a servant, that you were not alright.  

“Is there something I can do?” 

Now the Captain really did take a step towards you. He wasn’t close exactly, definitely not as close has he had been that night in the kitchen, but you could have sworn you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes and smell a mixture of leather, horses and something you could only describe as sunshine. 

You shook your head. There was nothing he, or anyone, could do. You had gotten yourself into this situation, and not just the having to sleep with the Duke part, but the whole entire marriage. Though it had been expected of you, you could have declined his offer. Your mother would have been disappointed, your father mad, but they would have come to accept your choice. 

After taking another deep breath you decided it was time to get up. But for some reason even something as simple as standing seemed like an impossible deed right now. The Captain instantly noticed your struggle. He stepped even closer, close enough for you to take his hand when he offered it to help you up. 

His skin was rough, making it obvious you were holding the hand of a guard, someone who saddled horses and shot guns all day, but that roughness felt realer than any of the soft fabrics you had touched all your life. 

You knew you should let go the moment you were on your feet, you knew what this would look like should anyone walk in on you, but your thumb seemed to have a mind of its own when it started softly stroking the Captain’s hand. 

He let out a sound that was something between a sigh and a growl while tensing and relaxing within a single second. At first you feared you had overstepped a boundary, a personal that is, because this was without question overstepping any professional boundaries. Your eyes had been focused on your hands, but you slowly lifted them to meet his gaze. The Captain’s eyes were darker than they had been just moments before, but there was an warmth in them you had not seen before. 

“You know”, you whispered in a soft voice as not to interrupt the moment. “I feel better already.” 

And you really did. The guard’s touch and the warmth in his eyes made you feel more comfortable, more relaxed, than you had been for days. 

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then cleared his throat. His voice was deeper than it had been moments before and it made your body tense in unfamiliar places. 

“I’m glad.” 

It seemed as if he wanted to add something when the door burst open. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Skywalker needs your help, he lost something and keeps mumbling about how you’re his only hope”, the intruder, another guard you recognized as Rex’s brother Fives, exclaimed. 

You hadn’t noticed the Captain had let go of your hand until he took a step back. His cheeks were slightly darker than they had been before, but his expression hasn’t changed. 

It was only then, when the blonde moved away from you, that his brother realized you were even in the room. He shot the Captain a look you could not read, no matter how much you wanted to, before bowing slightly. 

“Your Grace, I did not see you there.” 

A soft laugh found its way out of you. You couldn’t help but instantly like Fives. He was more relaxed than his brother, though they shared a light in their eyes that told you how much alike they could be. 

“It’s alright, Fives.” 

The guard’s eyes widened in shock. 

“You know my name?” 

“Your brother told you a bit about you, about your other brothers as well. I myself am very close to my older brother Edward, so... Sorry, I... I should probably stop talking.” 

The times your mother had told you not to discuss family with anyone, especially servants, came to your mind and after already breaking protocol with the Captain earlier you though it best to be quiet. 

Fives didn’t seem to notice your awkwardness as his eyes moved between you and his brother, which you, on the other hand, didn’t notice. 

“We should get to General Skywalker then”, the Captain finally said, interrupting the silence. 

With a nod, a “Good day, my lady” and a bow Fives left the room. His brother followed, but turned around to face you once more. 

“I hope you’ll feel better soon”, he said with a smile. A smile that told you that he didn’t regret what had happened between the two of you earlier. 

You knew you shouldn’t, but you felt the same and tried to show it in your next words. 

“Thank you, Rex.” 

This time he heard you calling him by his name, the most beautiful sound he had heard in his life. But instead of closing the distance between you again, to touch your hand one last time before returning to his duty, he just bowed and hurried to leave the room. 

-------

That evening dinner was a quiet affair. Your husband barely talked, even though your mother tried her best to strike up a conversation. But the hardest part came after the meal when you had to say goodbye to your mother, who would be leaving early the next morning. 

“I will miss you so much, my darling. But you will be just fine, I know it. You’re going to be a great duchess and a good wife.” 

Your mother had tears streaming down her cheeks as she said this. She had the same proud look in her eyes as she did when you had accepted the Duke’s proposal and when you had exchanged your vows, after all, having your daughter marry a rich duke was every mother’s dream and her’s had come true. 

You told her that you would miss her as well, to give your love to your father and brother and that you would write as much as possible and then, after tearful hugs and kisses, your mother was gone and you were all alone. 

With tears still drying on your cheeks you sat at your vanity table and stared at your reflection. In the few days since the wedding you seemed to have aged a lot, not in the positive maturing sense either, you simply looked exhausted. Dark bags were under your red eyes, the colour has left your skin and even your hair seemed lifeless. 

“Pinching your cheeks should help”, Padmé offered as she stepped into the room. 

You turned around to face your maid. She was holding a candle in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other. Before stepping closer to you she laid the cloth down on the foot of the bed. 

“I have brought you a nightdress your husband wants you to wear.” 

The look in her eyes spoke of sympathy and pity and even though you knew she was being kind you resented her for it. If Padmé ever got married she could choose her husband, choose someone she loved and who loved her and not marry a cold old man because it was expected of her. 

“Is there”, Padmé started but hesitated to continue. Only when you looked at her and nodded did she speak again. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable tonight?” 

You took a moment to think about it but ended up deciding that there really wasn’t. You had already downed more wine than usually at dinner and it had done nothing to calm your nerves and in the end you decided that you would rather be fully present for what was about to happen than give your husband the opportunity to do whatever he wanted without resistance. 

“Thank you, but I think I’ll manage.” 

Call it women’s intuition, but both you could tell that Padmé didn’t really believe you. 

“Forgive me for speaking so boldly, but if you ever want to talk about what happens in the bedroom between husband and wife, or anything else for that matter, I am here for you.” 

In that moment you realized that just because your mother had left didn’t mean that you were alone. Yes, Padmé was your servant, but you knew other girls who were good friends with their lady’s maids, so why shouldn’t she be your friend as well as your servant? 

“Thank you very much for the offer, but I doubt there is anything you know that I don’t. After all, you’re not married.” 

She raised an eyebrow and seemed to consider something before ultimately shaking her head. 

“I’m not”, she said in a tone that made you question whether there was someone who held a special place in her heart. “But I have heard that some women think of other men when in bed with their husbands.” 

For some reason you didn’t want to investigate any further Captain Rex popped into your head. The feel of his rough hands against your soft ones, the warmth in his gaze, the sound of his voice and laugh. You quickly shook your head, both to get rid off the thoughts and to hide the colour rising to your cheeks from Padmé. Fortunately your maid knew not to press the issue any further. 

“Should I help you change into your nightdress?”

-------

You supposed you should consider yourself lucky that your husband seemed to be in a hurry to get his visit to your bedroom over with. He was in and out of your room within minutes. The time he was with you, and inside you, still felt like hours rather than minutes. The entire time your husband didn’t speak a word, not even a “good night” when he left again and if it hadn’t been for the noises he made you would have thought it was just as much of a duty for him as it was for you, but your mother had told you enough for you to know that the noises meant he was enjoying himself. 

As soon as you heard the door from your sitting room to the corridor close you hurried off the bed and to your bathroom. Padmé, as if she’d know you would need it, had left a second bowl of water and piece of cloth next to the one you used to wash yourself in the morning. You tried to clean your nether regions as best as you could before returning to the bedroom, where you covered as much of the bed as possible with the two clean towels you had brought from the bathroom. 

Though you didn’t feel as clean as you would have liked it would have to do for now and it didn’t take as much tossing and turning for you to fall asleep as you had anticipated. 

-------

The next morning Rex didn’t see you until a few hours after Palpatine had left. He had asked Echo to stay with you while he arranged for the General’s absence, but around midday he finally managed to relief his brother and take on his duty of watching over you. 

You were seated on a small chaise in the rose garden and Rex tried not to stare at how the sun shone on your hair and made your skin glow. Your eyes were closed and he couldn’t tell whether you were sleeping or simply relaxing, all he knew was that you looked more peaceful than you had the day before. 

“What were you doing all day? I thought you were supposed to always be with me”, you asked. 

Rex didn’t know how you could tell it was him standing in the shade of the cherry tree and no longer Echo since your eyes were still closed. For a moment he entertained the thought that you could sense him as much as he could sense you, but he banned that idea from his head almost as soon as it appeared. You had probably just opened your eyes for a split second and seen him, that had to be it.

“I had to sort through the General’s notes for training and timetables to keep everything running smooth while he is gone, that took a while.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement. Finally you looked at him. He felt as if your eyes could look straight through cloth, flesh and muscle to into his soul, and find something growing there you were never supposed to see. 

“I’m glad you’re here now, Captain.” 

The almost teasing way in which you pronounced his rank reminded him of how you had said his name the day before. He had heard beautiful instruments, stunning voices and the exoctic birds the Duke kept around the gardens, but nothing compared to how you said his name. To him it no longer sounded like a name, but a beautiful song, something to cherish, to think of before falling asleep at night and to haunt one’s dreams. 

Though Rex wasn’t what you would call shy, he was very reserved, especially when dealing with his employer, so he did nothing but nod at your comment and then stare straight ahead. He had already allowed himself too many liberties with you and now, as your personal guard, he had to remain professional, or else risk losing everything. 

You, however, did not seem to get his subtle hint, because you just kept talking. 

“I must admit, I much prefer the other garden, what was it called again? The rose garden is beautiful and everything, but it’s just a little too close to the house, I much prefer something more private. But it is too hot to take a single step more than necessary. I really don’t know how you manage in your uniform, you must be melting. Though, if you want, you could take off your jacket. Only if you want, maybe you’re cold, maybe it’s just me who cannot take this heat, but if you want to -”, you stopped your rambling mid sentence. 

Rex risked a short glance at you. Your face was red, as was your neck, and a single drop of sweat was running down your temple to your neck and even further down towards an area he would not risk looking at. 

“I’m sorry”, you said after a bit of silence. “I often find I cannot stop talking when I’m nervous.” 

He tried, he really tried, not to show his surprise, but his eyebrows seemed to have a will of their own when they lifted in confusion. Though Rex managed not to look at you when he spoke, a small victory. 

“What do you have to be nervous about, my lady?”

Part of Rex knew that this conversation could go in a direction it shouldn’t, meaning anything other than the most basic small talk, but another, larger, illogical part, wanted you to keep talking and to listen to every single word you said. 

Your shadow and your footsteps on the gravel told Rex that you were coming closer. Still he did not turn around to face you, not even when you stopped and stood next to him, close enough that he could touch you if only he moved a few centimeters. 

“Everything, to be honest. And nothing at the same time. I am married, living in a big house and should be the happiest girl alive, but it’s just not what I imagined. I feel so out of place, event though this is my home now, and my husband -” 

Rex felt you taking a deep breath rather than hearing it, your whole body relaxed after your exhale. 

“I guess I should stop talking now. After all, my husband is your employer and the only person who should talk about him even less than me, is you.” 

It was your resigned tone that finally made Rex turn to face you. Your blush was gone, instead you had gone quite pale. Only your bright eyes and your lips, the bottom of which you were currently biting, gave your face pops of colour. 

“Did he hurt you?”, Rex asked against his better knowledge. Yes, he was supposed to protect you, but that protection did not extend to the Duke, who, as your husband, was legally allowed to do with you whatever he wanted. 

You hesitated for a fraction of a moment before shaking your head. 

“No, he didn’t. It’s just... My marriage simply isn’t what I had been expecting.” 

Both relief and sadness flooded through Rex. Of course he was glad the Duke hadn’t laid his hands on you, but his heart was also breaking for you. 

“I suppose I was simply holding out hope for a knight in shining armor for so long that even now I can’t get rid of the idea. But that’s on me for reading too many books and wishing for a fairytale.” 

A twinkle was back in your eyes. Maybe, Rex thought, you were thinking of your childhood dreams or even a childhood love. And though he didn’t like the thought of that, a feeling he shoved down as deep as possible, he was glad to see some of your sadness gone. 

“I’ve heard of other women who gain their happiness through their children instead of their husbands”, he said in a low voice. It was something he had seen with his mother, who gave all her love and care to him and his brothers and didn’t seem to have much for her husband.

“Children...”, you stepped closer to Rex after whispering the word. Your (y/e/c) eyes settled on his honey coloured ones. “That’s the whole reason the Duke even married me, to give him an heir. I guess that really is all I’m good for.” 

Rex’s eyes widened in shock. Did you really think that? Did you not see that there could be so much more to your life? 

“I am sorry, my lady, but I disagree. There is so much more to you than the ability give the Duke an heir. You have your whole life ahead of you and-” 

Suddenly Rex noticed the way your eyes hung on his lips, the astounded expression on your face. 

“I... I’m sorry, it’s not my place to say such things.” 

One second you just stared at Rex, the next you reached out and held his hand in yours. A soft smile was on your face and just like that all his worries of getting scolded disappeared and were replaced by a feeling of content and warmth spreading from his hand all the way to his heart. 

“Thank you, Rex”, you said, your voice soft and sincere. “No one has ever said anything like that to me. You’re a kind man.” 

Rex had gotten compliments before, from his mother, his brothers and his General, but never had they meant as much as the four simple words coming out your mouth. He could have sworn his heart stopped at the combination of your smile, your touch and your words. You were giving him so much by simply being with him and he knew, deep down, that nothing he could say would ever repay you for the way he felt in that moment. 

I finally managed to continue this story. Sorry it took so long, but I wanted to take my time to do this right and with uni starting again time is something I don’t have a lot of recently. 

But a huge thank you to everyone who read and commented on the first part! It really means a lot, even though I haven’t figured out how to reply to you using this blog I have read the comments and they warmed my heart. I hope you’ll enjoy this part as much as the first one and are looking forward to part three. 

Taglist: @and-claudia @pinkiemme @callme-eds

[frostedfaves]

Haunt (2)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Getting to know you brings a few ‘firsts’ for Wanda.

Warnings: brief alcohol mention, tiny bit of angst

A/N: click on the link at the end of the masterlist to add yourself to the taglist! and tell me what you think!

Previous part

-

“Honey, I’m home,” Pietro called loudly as he locked the front door behind himself, smiling as Wanda appeared from the kitchen. “There you are, rybka. Smells good in there.”

“As it always does,” Wanda playfully bragged as she pulled her brother into a hug, sniffing his shirt as he pulled away. “Why do you smell so good?”

“Because I had a date earlier. Don’t give me that look.”

“What? I didn’t give you any look,” she mumbled as she attempted to quickly bring a sense of nonchalance to her expression. “I just worry.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Pietro, your last girlfriend was a nightmare. I have a right to be worried.”

“Well, you can relax this time,” he assured her as he followed her into the kitchen to wash his hands. “Usually things don’t go so well with girls that have posters of me in their rooms, but I have a good feeling. She travels for work almost as much as I do, but she lives really close to here. I can visit you both on the same day if I need to.”

“Wait…” Wanda paused to think as Pietro grabbed two plates from the cabinet. “Does she have a roommate?”

“Yeah, her name is Y/N, I think. You know her?”

“I do now. We met about an hour ago.” A smile formed on her lips as she began plating the food she made, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. “Why are you giving me a look right now?”

“Nothing, just been awhile since I’ve seen my baby sister with a crush.”

“You’re only twelve minutes older than me,” she argued with a scowl and Pietro laughed.

“I see you’re not denying that crush, though.”

“You can enjoy someone’s presence without being attracted to them.”

“Maybe, but you definitely have a crush.” He caught her hand with a grin as it flew toward his chest. “Come on, rybka. Just admit it.”

“Fine, I think she’s gorgeous. Happy?”

“I will be when you start dating,” he teased as she pulled her hand away.

“There won’t be a date. I mean she’s coming here tomorrow to hang out, but I don’t think she sees me like that.”

“Then she sucks,” he affirmed, groaning when her elbow bumped his side harshly. “She’s not even your girlfriend yet and you’re already super overprotective.”

He ran back into the kitchen to grab the wine and glasses before she could hit him again, giving her a bit of time to fantasize about a world where you were her girlfriend. She’d never tell Pietro just how great that sounded to her.

-

Wanda gasped as the doorbell went off, nearly knocking over the 3-tier cooling rack full of cookies on her race to the front door. She paused in the hallway to fix any hairs that flew out of place in her rush and took a deep breath before opening the door with a smile. You were standing on her porch wearing a different hoodie from yesterday and jeans instead of sweatpants, but every bit of the face she’d been thinking of in the past 16 hours was the same, and she couldn’t help but think that nothing could’ve prepared her for being this close to you again.

“Are you going to let me in or just stare?” you teased with a slightly shaky laugh, and Wanda wasn’t sure if she was blushing because she was caught or because she was already so enchanted with every little action of yours.

“Sorry, sorry.” She stepped aside as you walked in and locked the door behind you. “I’m not usually this weird, I promise.”

“I’m sure you are, and that’s okay because I like it.”

Wanda was sure (if the tension surrounding her grinning mouth was any indication) that her face would split open at any moment. You hadn’t even been here more than a full minute and she felt a warmth growing inside her chest that hadn’t made an appearance in quite some time. She wondered if it was too soon to admit that to you, but Alexei tiptoed into the room before she could decide.

“Hey, it’s your cute dog!” You were on your knees in seconds greeting the corgi that happily trotted over to you.

“Yes, this is Alexei, which basically means ‘defender’.”

“I feel like you call him that ironically, but I think I can see this tiny baby taking out some bad guys,” you quipped as you glanced at her from the floor, turning back to Alexei as you scratched lightly along his jaw. “What do you think?”

Wanda joined you in giving her furry son some love for another minute or so before he grew tired of the attention and walked off, leaving the two of you alone again. A few seconds of awkward silence passed before she offered you a tour of her home. She led you through the living room into the dining room, showing you where the bathroom was and briefly gesturing toward her bedroom, trying her hardest not to make such a big deal of doing so. Once you made it back around to the kitchen, she took you through the back door to her yard.

“And this is my garden!”

“I’m surprised you don’t grow your own vegetables, too,” you told her as you checked out the variation of flowers growing in a line, quickly adding “You seemed to know so much about it yesterday.”

“There’s this market I go to sometimes, and the elderly woman that sells vegetables there is always sharing tips with me. I could take you one day, if you’d like,” Wanda offered as she cast a nervous look your way, relaxing a bit when you smiled and nodded.

“I would like that a lot.”

You made your way back inside and Wanda gave you the freedom to pick anything from her movie collection under the television while she set up a tray with cookies and bowls of popcorn and chips. She watched you slide a disc into the DVD player from the corner of her eye as she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“What’d you pick?”

“Tangled,” you answered simply as you grabbed the remote and took a seat. “It’s wholesome.”

You pressed play as Wanda returned with two glasses and a pitcher of water, and she sat at what she hoped was a respectable distance. The part of her that wanted to pretend that she hadn’t seen this movie thousands of times was quickly overpowered by the part that wanted to sing along, quietly at first during “When Will My Life Begin” and a little louder and more enthusiastic with “I’ve Got A Dream”.

“Am I that bad?” she joked when she noticed you watching her and you shook your head quickly.

“No, you’re not bad at all! You just have such a soothing voice. It’s kind of hard not to lose myself in it.”

“Oh...thank you.”

You faced the television again and Wanda took that as a cue to turn back to the movie too, but her focus was still on you. The last time she’d watched Tangled was with her ex-girlfriend, who complained every time she uttered a single note, but you almost seemed to encourage it with your attentive gaze. She found herself shaking her head a bit in an attempt to clear those thoughts, not wanting to compare you to someone else when she barely knew you.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized as you paused the movie, causing Wanda to look at you as you faced her once more. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No! No, I’m not uncomfortable, just surprised is all. You’re the first person to show appreciation of me singing during a movie...I mean, Pietro likes my singing, but he’s known me since birth, so the novelty’s kind of worn off.”

“Well, you sound incredible. The kids at your school are so lucky to--”

“Can I kiss you?” Her eyes widened as she scooted over a bit on the couch to give you more space. “I’m so sorry I said that! I’ve just been staring at your lips for the past minute and I swear I was listening, but I couldn’t stop thinking--”

“I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

The sight of your reassuring expression was all the encouragement Wanda needed to pull herself close enough that your thighs were touching, and her hand went for your jaw as she leaned in, internally cheering as you did the same. Your lips met in a gentle fashion, but Wanda couldn’t help her greed as she pressed herself into you more. She felt the tip of your tongue and opened her mouth without any thought, quickly losing herself in your touch as her hand slid toward the base of your neck while the other grabbed a fistful of your hoodie.

You yanked yourself out of her hold as she was about to slide her hand under the fabric covering your back, and Wanda jumped back in shock, torn between keeping her distance and placing a hand on your thigh to calm you when you began gasping for air a bit.

“Is everything okay? Did I go too far?”

“No, you didn’t. That was all me,” you assured her breathlessly. “I, um, just thought of something and kind of freaked myself out. Terrible timing, I know. I also know that was pretty weird so I can leave if you want.”

“I was just scared that I’d done something wrong.” Wanda placed her hands carefully over yours with a soft smile. “I think we’ve had our fair share of weirdness to the point of it not being a deal breaker anymore.”

“Okay.” You sighed and shifted your hands to grab yours. “I’m just worried that we’ll start something here that you won’t want to finish, and I know that can happen with anyone in any kind of situation, but I…Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that you’ll walk away the moment my baggage becomes too heavy. I don’t want you to try sticking it out for my sake and end up hating me.”

“I wouldn’t stay just for your sake--”

“I asked you to promise me something and you responded ‘anything’ with zero hesitation, and you’ve known me for only a day,” you quickly reminded her. “I have a right to be worried.”

Your words took her back to last night, which took her even further back to the reason she said the exact same thing to Pietro. She finds it incredibly easy to discover those red flags most people seem to hold, but always struggles to leave and ends up hating herself for it more than those that deserve it. So despite the lack of warning signs with you, she decides to give in.

“I promise.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @peggycarter-steverogers @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @cristin-rjd @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @creepingwolfberry @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly @thedragonzland @dylxn-lee @cordeliaswhore

[ohplagg]

The Yato-gami I know

Also read at AO3

Summary: 

“My name is Sakura,” she decides to try a much simpler approach “what’s yours?”

The man with his right hand still holding half of his face and with a skeptical look writes on the dirt.

夜卜

Ya…to?

AU where Tenjin never fired Tamanone.

NOTE: Adachitoka never bothered to come up with Tamanone's Tenjin given name so I'm following their example by also avoiding the issue and using Sakura instead

I want to once again give a big 'thank you' to @noragamibigbang for organizing this.

And an even bigger 'thank you' to my lovely partner (@mochakat) who came up with the idea and who also created a beautiful artwork that goes along with this!

It was a day like every other day; nothing new, nothing exiting, nothing special. Just everything really quiet and peaceful and boring.

Sakura, a beautiful young lady with long dark hair dressed in a miko, was starting to despise every second of it. Well not every second of it. Sakura couldn’t really complain much about her days being too peaceful, it definitely was an improvement from those days where her master had his rage moments and fired anyone who even dared to just breathe the wrong way in his presents.

She was lucky that Tsuyu was there that day to talk to master Tenjin out of the idea of firing her, she will forever owe her live to Tsuyu. Who knows what would have happened if she had been fired that day who knows how long ago? ...Was it a 1000 years ago? It’s been so long that Sakura had lost the track of time.

But peaceful days doesn’t mean they should also be boring and lately life had become extremely mundane. Ever since she was forbidden from working in the prayer altar she’s been sweeping fallen leaves from stone stairs that lead up to the tori, far enough that she can’t eavesdrop on the human prayers any more. According to Tenjin-sama “it’s his job to listen to the prayers, not hers” but Sakura knows there’s more to the reason even if he doesn’t say it.

“-hope Tenjin-sama grants that old lady’s prayer.” Sakura’s attention is caught by the gossiping some shrine maidens are having about some human prayer. Oh, how she misses listening to human prayers; learning about the near shore problems and how humans found solutions to their problems, the emotions they felt for one another, the human nature can be beautiful sometimes.

Sakura stops her sweeping as she listens carefully to the gossiping whispers “Yeah. Ever since that Yaboku god murdered that old lady’s son and his wife she comes here daily asking Tenjin-sama to bless her granddaughter academically since scholarships are the only way that child will have a way to pay her studies.”

How unfortunate, Sakura thinks to herself as she resumes her chore of sweeping leaves. If only that Yaboku god would cease to exist, the world would become a much happier place.

-

After an excruciating long and boring day Sakura is taking the last basket of fallen leaves to the trees and bushes at the back of the shrine for disposal. As she dumps it all in the pile of leaves she notice what looks like a head of dark hair among all the orange, gold and yellow autumn leaves.

A bear. Her heart drops and she’s suddenly hit with her fight and flight response. She knows in theory she shouldn’t be scared by things like this but survival instincts wait for no one when a bear is right there.

Without even a second thought she throws the hardest punch she can manage to where she’s guessing the nose would be.

“Ahrg!” someone replies to Sakura’s punch. Maybe she should have given it a second thought.

Sakura frantically apologizes as she tries to check the nose of the poor victim she just attacked. As she does so she notice that the person in front of her was a young looking man dressed in a yukata.

“Here, let me see.” She insists as she pushes the poor individual’s forehead back and tries to move his hands out of the way, but the man rejects her aid between whimpers and grunts as he tilts his head forward and hold the right side of his face with one hand

An awkward silence falls among the two as the young man attends to his bleeding nose, spitting blood from what seems to be a busted lip and probably a lost tooth all the while Sakura just stands there.

“That was a really hard hit, uh? I’m so sorry. I never do things like this, I don’t know what came over me. I really thought you were a bear, which is ridiculous because why would you be a bear? Bears are too busy right now seeking their shelter for winter, they wouldn’t be under a pile of leaves in the back of a shrine, of course not! But why were you under a pile of leaves in the back of the shrine? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just that it’s unusual- surprising! I meant surprising. Unusual sounds like it’s something bad- which is not! Totally not.” Sakura rants on in her best effort to strike a friendly conversation with the stranger. She sighs and stops her words as she notice that the young man isn’t appreciative of her effort.

“My name is Sakura,” she decides to try a much simpler approach “what’s yours?”

The man with his right hand still holding half of his face and with a skeptical look writes on the dirt.

夜卜

Ya…to?

-

Ever since the ‘I can’t believe it’s not a bear!’ incident Sakura had encountered Yato in several other occasions. Once he was hiding at the top of a tree, other times she found him sleeping in the garden shed and each and every time she tried her luck to befriend him.

He had made it clear several times to leave him alone, that he didn’t want anything to do with her or anyone for that matter, but she was bored out of her mind most of the time and he kept coming back so might as well enjoy the company right?

As the weeks passed by, Sakura found out that Yato was a shy curious individual that just hid behind a mean attitude. The first time she noticed this was when she was talking about her first days as Tenjin-sama’s shinki. As she was talking about it she could tell that she had Yato’s full attention even though he acted as he didn’t care.

Because of this she started to talk about anything and everything in an effort to bait him into participating in the conversation. Some topics were a dead ends but there were a few that she could tell had Yato curious to know more.

-

“But why flowers? Can’t they just say things straight as it is?” This wasn’t the first time that Yato had asked something that to many could be considered obvious.

“Sometimes words and actions aren’t enough to express one’s emotions and feelings. Flowers have different meanings that can help us express what we wouldn’t be able to with just words or actions.” Sakura explained.

“For example,” Sakura continued with her explination, “the emotion of love. You can tell someone you love them but there’s a big difference between the love you feel for a friend, the love you feel for a family member and the love you feel for your lover. Flowers help communicate what type of love you want to say.”

By now Yato had warmed up enough to the point that he was constantly asking questions about anything that she was talking about in the moment.

He asked her about human prayers, about dreams and wishes, about human festivals and ceremonies, about sports and game. He asked about the different types of human relationships, about human entertainment. If humans were involved, you could bet Yato would make a question. He kind of reminded her of a little kid that was just discovering the world for the first time.

“

“Okay, but what about-“ the conversation in the garden shed was interrupted by the sound of a firetruck siren.

“That’s the 3rd one this week.” Sakura sighs. “My master says that some gods have been causing suffering to humans to amuse themselves since the amount of dedicated believers have dropped and with it the amount of things for them to do, that’s why there has been an increase in tragedies in the last couple of years.” She explained.

“That’s awful.” Yato pointed out.

“I know! How heartless can one be to call the killing of humans a game? Those gods are horrible monsters. The world would be better without them.” Sakura expressed her frustration.

“Sorry,” Sakura apologized after a sour and tense pause, “I just-”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain” Yato suddenly interrupts as his voice crack in the process. “I feel the same way.”

-

“Anything interesting happened today, Mizuchi?” a young looking man with almond colored hair dressed in a dark Yukata asked as he cooked some miso soup.

“Nothing much, Father.” A little girl with short dark hair dressed in a white kimono sat by the table, waiting for said miso soup. “Bishamonten-sama has lost 2 more shinki to god’s greatest secret, Takemikazuchi-sama is still trying to get a blessed hafuri, and Ebisu-sama might reincarnate soon again.”

“What about our Yaboku dear?” the man asked over his shoulder.

“He’s been going to Tenjin-sama’s shrine quiet a lot lately. I think I’ve seen him talking to a shrine maiden a few times. She goes by the name of Sakura.”

“Is he now?” Father halts everything that he’s doing for a brief second.

Father has been aware for the longest time that his son spends his time in different shrines whenever he has free time. Even though Yaboku thinks his father doesn’t know, he knows but simply decides to turn a blind eye to it as long as his Yaboku stays obedient to him.

But it is quiet surprising that Yaboku has spent most of his time in Tenjin’s shrine, even more so now that its winter time. He usually spends winter time at Binbougami’s shrine.

“Mizuchi dear, could you tell Yaboku to come visit me next time you see him? I have something I need him to take care of.”

-

Yato visits Sakura. Sakura is busy setting up some extra lanterns and some other decorations in the stone stairway. Sakura explains that New Year’s is coming and along with it a lot of humans visit the shrine as well.

“Where are you going to be during all of this?” Yato asked sternly, something felt out of place for the child-like curious Yato that Sakura knew.

“Probably near Tenjin-sama, why?” Sakura wondered

“No reason.” Yato’s response was sharp in the tongue. “I have some business I have to attend to in Kyoto so I won’t be seeing you until after New Year’s, okay?” He asked but it felt like it didn’t matter what Sakura answered in returned.

Both Sakura and Yato briefly said their farewells and just like that Yato left. Sakura made a mental note to ask Yato once he returns and seems less on edge to ask him what happened that made him act so out of character.

-

It finally was New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s visiting the shrine. Families with their children and elderly. Some couples; young love, old love, friend groups, you name it. Sakura was loving every second. She loved being close by humans, there’s something about their joy that just feels amazing.

Sakura had been sent to the entrance on her master’s orders. And just when people were starting to pray. But she can’t complain much, at least now she is surrounded by humans and enjoying the happy chattering they have amongst themselves instead of being stuck next to her master hearing the same jokes he makes every year.

As she walked there was a sudden screams interrupts any and all gleeful chat. Everyone starts walking towards where the scream came from. On the road, just before entering the shrine perimeters. A man had fainted and looked like he had a seizure and judging by the reaction of his wife, it looked like she had just seen a ghost.

People gathered around the married couple trying to wonder what just had taken place, all the while some other called the emergency line.

As all of this was unfolding Sakura knew she had to rush to her master and tell him the incident that had just taken place, but as she was turning back she caught a glimpse of a familiar black hair head and a dark yukata.

Yato?

That didn’t make sense, he said he wouldn’t be in the city by this time around. Her curiosity got the best of her and she started following the man that had an extreme resemblance to the Yato-gami she knew.

“Stop!” Sakura yells as she’s lead to the back side of the shrine, where she met Yato the first time. She notice that she’s out of ear’s range of anyone so she decides to finally test out her theory.

“Yato, wait!” the male figure pauses. Frozen in place but with his back still facing her. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Sakura didn’t need an answer. The hesitation in that man’s actions told her enough.

Yato slowly turned around, looking like a kid full of guilt. Sakura noticed he was holding a katana-like weapon but this one looked odd, like it was made of water.

“I don’t understand. Why are you here? You said you wouldn’t be here!” She questioned him to no avail. Yato remained quiet, eyes glued to the floor unable to face her. “Why… why are you acting this way? And why do you have a weapon? Did you have something to do with that man?”

Sakura was furious and frustrated and upset. It didn’t help that Yato still wasn’t looking at her but rather was very focused on the dead and muddy grass under his sandals.

Sakura noticed Yato say something under his breath and as soon as he does his katana-like weapon transforms into a beautiful young girl with short dark hair.

‘He has a shinki’ Sakura realizes.

“Hello! So you are the famous Sakura!” the little girl gleefully greets Sakura, “I’m Hiiro! I’m sure Yaboku has told you all about me.”

“Ya…boku?” Sakura whispers in disbelief towards Yato as he looks like a deer in headlights, still unable to look at her. To say Sakura was confused was an understatement. With just one sentence she had more questions than what she could actually think of. “Yato. Who is this?” unable to put her thoughts into words, Sakura decided to focus on the first thing that confused her.

Yato tries to find his voice, tries to answer Sakura but the knot in his throat is too big that any time he opens his mouth to say something, anything, nothing comes out.

“Come on Yaboku, you didn’t tell her who I was? Some brother you are.” The girl that answers instead. “I’m Hiiro. I’m Yaboku’s shinki and sister!”

“Why does she keep calling you Yaboku?” Sakura carefully questions Yato, as if she’s walking on eggshells that could turn into glass shards any second. Sakura noticed that Yato looked beyond scared.

“He didn’t tell you? His name is Yaboku.” Hiiro once again answers in Yato’s stead. She turns to look at Yato, “don’t tell me you didn’t tell her.” Yato looks like he wants to run away even though he is frozen in place.

“You’re the yaboku?” Sakura seeks confirmation from the man himself even though she doesn’t need to hear anything else. “All this time I thought that- that you- and I thought that we-“ a rush of fury clouds Sakura’s thoughts leaving her speechless.

“I- I can explain!” Yato stumbles with his words, desperately trying to gain his voice back.

“So you used me to choose your victims? Did I lead you to your victims?” Sakura questions in disbelief.

“No!” Yato frantically tries to get a word in “Let me explain, I-“

“And you even lied to me about who you were! You deceived me!” by this time Sakura was yelling at the top of her lunges

“Yes- I mean no! Sakura you got to listen to me-“

“Don’t. Keep my name out of your filthy mouth. I can’t believe I ever considered you a friend.” Sakura emotionlessly says as she wraps her arms around herself and leaves.

Yato reaches a hand out towards the leaving figure of Sakura trying to call out to her but gives up shortly after seeing as there is nothing he could say to make her stay.

-

“Yaboku. You’ve been like this for months now. Its time you snap out of it.” Hiiro pushes Yato’s shoulder as he’s laying on his side looking out to the garden.

Hiiro would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised at Yaboku’s unusual behavior. They had gone out several times now on Father’s command but whenever they did Yaboku looked so miserable that she actually felt bad for him.

“How about we go to play? That always cheered you up!” Still no answer from his brother. “Sigh. What can I do to cheer you up? Would me calling you Yato like that Sakura girl did do any good?”

Hiiro noticed that as soon as she suggested the idea Yaboku’s face had a hit of emotion for the first time since that night.

“I’ll call you that if you want me to but you have to tell me, otherwise I won’t know. Hiiro tried once again to get Yaboku to say something.

It was close, she could feel it. Yaboku looked like he really wanted to say something but just like it had happened so many times now he got caught up in so much hesitation that he gave up in whatever idea he was about to share.

But this time she almost had it and she wouldn’t let it slip away. “Look, it’s obvious you miss this Sakura girl and I could tell that she genuinely cared about you so she probably misses you too so why don’t you go talk to her?”

Hiiro was right, all that time spent with Sakura was something both of them enjoyed and if he was missing her this much it was very possible that she was missing him back. But did he had any right to go back to her? After he lied to her so much? Yato didn’t deserved her forgiveness, didn’t deserve her time or her kindness.

But she deserves an explanation and an apology. Yato thought to himself.

And with that he got up and left.

-

It was a day near the end of spring. Sakura couldn’t really tell what day it was, every day had felt the same since that night. The only thing that made the day different from other days is that now she was sweeping the Sakura blossoms instead of shoveling snow.

At first Sakura was furious. She felt angry and betrayed. After a few weeks she felt just upset and used. After that she simply felt sad and lonely. With all the time Sakura had to think she understood that she was in no position to judge a god and she also understood that it was unfair of her to cut all communication with Yaboku-gami as if they had never known each other ever. She wished she could talk to him.

As Sakura is taking the last basket of fallen sakura blossoms to the trees and bushes at the back of the shrine for disposal she sees Yato standing by the same place she first met him. That time she confused him for a bear.

“What are you doing here?” Sakura kept her voice firm and emotionless even though she felt otherwise.

“I just came here to apologize for everything I’ve put you through” Yato starts as he hands Sakura some purple hyacinths.

Sakura takes them with a shocked and hesitant but pleased expression.

“I asked the flower shop lady and she said that purple hyacinths mean deep sorrow and regret. That if I wanted to make it clear how sorry I was these were the ones to give.” Yato explains and then continues, “I’m sorry for lying to you. For not being honest about everything. For being a coward. But most importantly for being Yaboku.”

It’s not every day that someone apologizes for their existence so Sakura waited for Yato to explain further before she said anything in return.

“I know I’m the worst of the worst. I kill innocents and I don’t show regret. I destroy and taint all the beautiful things in the world for my own selfish reasons. But I promise you that the me you knew, the Yato you knew, wasn’t an act.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Yaboku. But please forgive Yato, he is a little stupid and naïve and new to all this being a good god thing but I promise that he means well and he’s trying his best.”

Sakura takes a moment to consider his words. “So what Im understanding is that you want to be the Yato-gami I know?”

Yato only nods.

“Then I suppose I’ll accept Yato’s apology” Sakura pauses as Yato’s face lights up, “but only if he promise me that he’ll give it his all to become the Yato I know he can be.”

“With your guidance I think I can do that”

[bubblyani]

Distraction

(Patrick Bateman x Reader)

A Patrick Bateman One Shot

Fandom: American Psycho (film) 2000

Rating: Mature (cuz it’s Bale’s Bateman duh!)

Requested by: @tealaquinn thank you for the naughty suggestion. Our conversations helped a lot.

Author’s Note: I couldn’t help but make the simple premise of a sexy distraction into a fully fledged one shot. Writing something for him had been a challenging dream. Don’t know how accurate it could be to the Bateman y’all imagine but a fangirl can dream, right?? I regret nothing. Enjoy!

Hushed whispers followed you, capturing your attention the moment you stepped into the Office Building. And you simply were to blame.

The manner that your high heels clicked on the marble floors certainly announced your entrance.The manner your long, shiny tresses swished from side to side made several heads turn with fascination, while the way your hips swayed in the tight pencil skirt brought on unwanted stiffness in the pants of some Wall Street yuppies.

“Whoa…Who’s that?” “Don’t you know? That’s Y/N Y/L/N” “Nope, doesn’t ring any bells” “She’s Bateman’s girlfriend” “What? You kidding me? That’s her? She’s a fox. Why the hell would she go out with a Loser like Bateman?”

The hushed voices suddenly disappeared the moment you stopped in your tracks, turning to glare at them.You glared at them as if it had the power to slice their throats. Indulging in that power, you settled their nerves with a smile. A smile that truthfully was emptier than a hollow shell.

Resuming your walk, you could not help but be troubled by what they had said for it was nonsensical to the fullest. Any word or phrase that had the tiniest inclination of an insult towards your man was intolerable. They made your toes curl and palms tighten. For he was no loser. You knew that for certain. He was a man, he was your man. And you always made sure he felt so.

As you reached closer to your destination, a woman with sandy blond hair quickly rose up from her seat with enthusiasm. It was his secretary.

“Good Morning Jean” you smiled, as you finally stood in front of her desk. “Good Morning, Y/N…” Jean replied, “You look beautiful today” she said genuinely. To which you chuckled shyly. “Thank you darling, and you never fail to look sophisticated” Your hand rested on the doorknob. Turning it slowly , you heard his voice boom in his office. Possibly on a phone conversation. Patrick Bateman’s authoritative voice never failed to have an impact on you. Mostly excitement or arousal. It made you fill with pride. The pride you have belonging to someone wonderful.

“I don’t give a damn about your excuses! I just need that fixed-” He was cut off the moment you entered the room.

“Reginald, I’m gonna have to call you back” Patrick said, his eyes remaining glued to as he hung up.

Eyes exchanged greetings during the few seconds of silence. You smiled softly, to which he smiled in return. A small smile that fully assured he was pleased to see you.

“You didn’t have to do that” You began, motioning to the phone. Scoffing, Patrick put his legs up, crossing them over the table comfortably. “Please” he said, “...it was nothing important anyways” He added casually. Taking a few steps towards the table, your eyes spotted the walkman and his pair of headsets.

“What were you listening to?” “Katrina and the Waves” “Nice” You smiled, nodding.

He responded with another smile. Unlike the others, the smile was never forceful with you. It was genuine. The sheer reaction you would involuntarily display when someone else appreciates your taste in music.

“So…” he began, “What Brings you to Pierce & Pierce?” He asked, whilst you peeped through the blinds, “to spy on someone?” “No...By the way is Paul Allen still around?” You asked so casually, his smile  suddenly disappeared. “Yes” His disgruntled tone was evident. But to his surprise you turned to him with a scowl.

“Eh! What a shame” You added unimpressed. Chuckling, he was relieved. It was unfathomable how easily he could do it now.

“Anyways...” you began, “I was in the neighborhood so I was wondering if you wanna grab lunch with me…” with a hopeful expression, you walked  back to him with your hands tied behind your back. Sitting back in his regular position, Patrick looked over at his schedule.

“Sorry…I have a lunch meeting with Bryce and the others” Patrick answered coolly, still looking at it. “Oh…Okay…” crossing your arms, you looked down shyly. Except you suddenly felt his gaze on you once again, staring at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” You asked, making him raise his index finger up.

“You’ve...buttoned it up wrong” He said, pointing at your jacket.

“What?”

His uncomfortable expression made you look down and gasp.

“Oh! Sorry….” You chuckled uncontrollably, “I can be such a klutz sometimes”

Patrick’s eyebrows did not relax ,for he did not believe it.You were never a klutz. It did not make sense. But the moment you finally undid your jacket, his tense eyebrows were suddenly raised with surprise.

Instead of a cotton or silk shirt, you only wore a bustier, an exquisite lace kind that complimented your figure and your complexion, simply doing wonders revealing your full, generous cleavage. Hunching forward to grab the end buttons, the cleavage involuntarily managed to pop up a bit more.

“Always do it from the bottom, right??” Joking innocently, you buttoned the up jacket, still in the midst of his attentive gaze.

“There…” You said, as the final button held the jacket together, “...all perfect! thanks to you” with a smile.

Patrick said nothing, but merely nodded in acknowledgement as he stared at you thoughtfully. His hand formed in to a fist. He seemed frustrated.

“Patrick you okay?”

“Hmm?” Woken from his thoughts, he appeared confused, “Yeah…Fine...” he muttered, with a tight lipped smile. Liar. “Right…Anyways I’m be going home then. I’ll see you...when I see you” You said, opening the door halfway, only to face him once more, “Have m fun at lunch” Winking, you made your exit. “Bye Jean!” “Bye Y/N!”

Excitement evident in her footsteps, Jean entered the office, beaming.

“I’m sorry to be so forward Patrick but...Y/N is just incredible” she said, her eyes shining. It was no surprise. You were always so nice to Jean.

“Yes she is…” Patrick said, still lost in his thoughts.   “Jean…” “Yes Patrick?” She asked as he finally looked up at her. “Clear my schedule for the entire day” 

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

The possibility of someone such as yourself crossing paths with someone like Patrick Bateman was quite unlikely. But by the stroke of fate, it did. And the American Gardens Building was to blame.

According that he had heard on the grapevine, he had a new neighbor who had recently moved in. And it was not until one fine evening that the both of you were finally aware of each other’s existence. Returning from a night out with the guys, Patrick was just about to enter his apartment when a stranger suddenly passed him by. A stranger he simply could not take his eyes off of. Suffice to say that stranger was you.

You remembered his first ever stare so clearly. It was as you were being drenched in honey. Sticky and noticeable. You remembered how he smiled and the way he greeted you. How you greeted him back in kind, and simply went in to your apartment. Short but impressionable. It was only when you both finally got together, Patrick admitted how he masturbated that night thinking about you. Though you felt corny to the bone, you mutually agreed.

A date was an eventuality. Your mysterious aura drove him crazy enough, he finally asked you out for a drink. Curiosity was killing him. He tried to figure you out. What desire of his were you able to satisfy? What kind of girl were you going to be? But, nothing triggered him for the night passed in a flash with the two of you making merry conversation, hitting off so well. The fact you were actually unbelievably keen on him, took him by surprise. In a society where people barely noticed nor acknowledged, you managed to impress him by noticing almost everything, and knew when to keep your mouth shut. For the only times you opened it, It was to do and say the right things.

Intriguing you were in his eyes. Beautiful, with a great personality which seemed unfathomable. You were not his usual type, and you were no bimbo. You were simply ,different. Regardless of mutual or non mutual interests, the genuine interest you showed was equal. And with every dinner or drinks date, it was hard for Patrick Bateman to resist how much of actual fun he was having. Was he dreaming? None of this seemed truly possible. And quite frankly, it made him highly suspicious.

He tried testing your limits. And with one attempt he gave up fast.

It was a quiet afternoon one weekend, when you stopped by on a surprise visit to his apartment. Dressed in merely his underwear and a t-shirt, all white, he invited you in with a reluctant attitude. The sounds of the television filled the entire apartment. And it was not regular television.

“Oh! Is that porn?” You asked, as soon as you realized the erotic nature of the video being played. “Yes” Patrick answered. He did not flinch, as he watched you with focus. He watched you so closely as if you were his little science experiment. What were you going to say? How will you react?

Contrary to his expectation, you did not bat an eye. Instead, your eyes just lingered there. You stood there watching it. It was only you who knew how aroused you were getting by the sight of the erotic act that took place. The sight of the gracious naked woman on her knees, willingly savoring, tasting her lover while she went down on him. And how his hand held on to her hair tightly.

“Would you like some-” You effortlessly cut off Patrick’s formality with a kiss that contained intense pressure. You kissed him with heat, with a need, finishing it by playfully biting his lower lip. Catching her eyes in his, he sensed the soul inside you was not the same as he had seen in others. Something primal lingered in you.

“What are you thinking?” He asked.

“Well…I was thinking…” you purred, “…that we can do that better” you added, pointing at the tv without even looking at it. And it came as a surprise to Patrick when your other hand had sneakily rested on his lower abdomen, feeling the softness of his cotton white t-shirt. Lust took over, and his eyes showed off its glint. When he instantly took your hand to feel his clothed erection, you gasped with satisfaction.

The both of you ended up making a sex tape that evening, which seemed more colorful than any porno he had ever watched.

When the recorder stopped recording, when he was laying in bed beside you, Patrick could not help but marvel at your tolerance towards his sexual needs. Not only tolerant, but extremely supportive. He felt warm, he felt an unfamiliarity. And it made him hungry with greed. A greed for you, a need for you. Which was certainly rare.

That was when he knew, you only satisfied one desire and one only. His desire for genuine companionship.

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

(Present)

Having lived in New York long enough, you were absolutely aware when you were being stalked. This time however, you were not alarmed, nor threatened. On the contrary, excitement bubbled within. Though you pretended to not even notice, you knew who it was. And he was to blame.

You were impressed. A few blocks was understandable. But an entire taxi ride? That was commitment for stalking. There you were, on your way back to the American Gardens Building. And you were aware of his presence a few feet away.

As you pressed the button for the elevator, you waited. You sensed him stand behind you a few feet away. The excitement increased by tenfolds.

Ding! The elevator announced its arrival with the doors opening. And you just could not resist.

“You coming, Patrick?”

You inquired coolly, whilst entering the elevator. And as you have guessed, rudely pushing away other residents with gusto, your stalker Patrick Bateman joined you inside soon after. Slamming the close button, tension grew between the two of you as the doors closed. And when finally closed, he grasped the opportunity to ambush you with a hungry kiss.

He was never the biggest fan of kisses before he met you. Sex? Yes. But kisses? Not really. But feeling the enthusiasm and heat you brought in as your contribution, he was compelled to do the same. He was addicted more than simply interested. With another Ding! The elevator finally reached your floor, witnessing the frantic lovers stumble out, lips still glued to one another. Patrick’s place was closer, thus it was already decided. The

mere few seconds his lips left yours to open the door was a punishment itself, but rectified soon after. Pulling you in, he slammed you against the closed door, only to kiss you once again. His lips were simply the definition of starved when he tasted yours, making it quite difficult for you to push his overcoat off his broad shoulders. But he proved to excel in multitasking, opening up your own jacket so fast, all of the buttons just popped out. And once again, your lace bustier revealed itself, heaving alongside your chest. “You’re such a fuckin’ tease!” Patrick breathed against your lips, “Right there in my office...Wearing this!” He added, peeling your jacket off. With a knowing smile, you chuckled.

“Ha! And here I was wondering how long it would take for you to finally give in…mmm-”

How could you really finish when he shut you up with more kisses, which was more than you could ask for.Whatever clothing obstacle that came in the way, you made sure to get rid yourself of them. His own Pin stripped Armani jacket for example. Tossing them at all directions, you were honestly quite surprised he did not pay attention. Being the meticulous man he normally was.

You attempted to walk, grabbing him by his pants during. Pressing himself against your back, his pants were quite noticeable.

“Where do you think you’re going, hmmm?” Patrick asked you, through gritted teeth as his lips grazed over your ear.

“To bed, silly! ” you replied playfully. “Good girl…” His growl, it made your inner walls quiver with impatience. You felt his hand firmly stroke your buttocks, unzipping the pencil skirt only to let it fall off you. Reaching the bed, he watched you spin around and greedily begin to undo his pants with an excited look. That excitement, that greed was akin to a child ending up at a candy store.

You were impatient, you couldn’t stress this enough. Once his pants were loose, you managed to pull out his shirt ready to undo. The sight of his sculpted abs and his tanned skin made your mouth water. Imagining him naked in his glory was a blessing you could never forget. All this, you did under his wild gaze. Pressing his forehead against yours, he groaned.

“You like this, don’t you?” There he was, teasing you once again in the most seductive of voices. Feeling the curves of your buttocks, he sneakily managed to pull down your panties.

“You bet I do, daddy” You purred, looking up at him before accepting his kisses. Open mouth, generous with tongue, you just wanted to melt in his arms. He learnt well. Biting your lower lip playfully, he pushed you to his neatly arranged bed. Giggles left your lips when he joined in. Dressed in only your lace bustier, lace panties bunched around your knees, with stockings and garters to match, you were definitely in your element for the moment. Whilst he had his hair disheveled, shirt half opened, and tie loosened along with his pants. You had Patrick Bateman right where you wanted him.

“What about your lunch plans?” “Not important” You smiled mischievously when he climbed on top on you, “You didn’t have to do that!” “Please” he said, spreading your legs open to get in between you, “It was nothing important anyways“.

Your eyes widened the moment you felt him enter you without a single warning. Happened so fast, which made it so thrilling and arousing.

His speed was evident this time, each of his thrusts translated his frustrations to your tease this morning. And you heard them speak out loud. How fucking dare you? Who gave you the fucking right? Stroking your thighs, he felt the softness of your stockings. He moved, savoring the sight of you writhe and moan with liberation.

Cupping his face, your fingers grazed around his jawline. You knew how privileged you were to touch him this way. The way your arms were placed over your body pushed your cleavage up higher, it teased Patrick even more. He announced his frustration with a harder thrusts. When that didn’t seem sufficient, you watched him pull down one of the straps of your bustier. It came down so fast you were worried of possible tearing. The beckoning was successful when he poured sloppy kisses over your curvaceous breast that popped out. Each kiss lit small fires over your skin, even more so when he trapped the erect nipple between his mouth, suckling it hard until you swore it turned blue. Your vocal responses merely were limited to sounds, for you did not have the capacity to even think as you were occupied being pleasured. Expressing his own satisfaction, he kissed, he sucked, he even left a hickey right below the curve of your breast, one that could make quite a statement. All the while he kept moving inside you. Your moans were gracious, loud and authentic. And hearing him moan in return was a gift in itself. You could reach your peak by just listening to him.

Immersed in deep pleasure, Patrick pulled your hair back, leaving kisses over your protruding neck, as his speed increased leading to him finally meeting his climax with  your own. Both sounds merged together, suddenly grew quiet in unison. Like a giant wave finally crashing into the beach in slow motion. Raising his head, he looked at you.

“The next time you do that, I swear I will fuck you senseless...right in my office” he said, panting. You chuckled. “My!” You said, gleefully, “now that’s something to look forward to” Inciting laughter from him. When the laughter died, you rubbed your nose against his affectionately.

“Good…” you continued, “…then you will have something Paul Allen and Bryce will be jealous about” you teased.

“Oh...I already have…” Patrick said , “I have You”

Warmth came over you. The way he said it, sheer pride was oozing. Pride that was enriched with the fact there was a deeper understanding between you and him. An understanding that could even lead to many, many great things.

A gasp exited you when you felt him sneakily insert one of his fingers inside you, making you moan. And just like that, you were aroused once more. And he was to blame.

“I’m never letting you go, Patrick Bateman” you breathed, pulling him by the tie to kiss him, moaning further into his lips as his fingers began to work on you.

While those fingers moved, he took the pleasure in watching you. But this time, when his eyes caught yours, his heart clenched.

For the first time ever, he was afraid.

Afraid to realize how dangerous you actually were. So much so that you seem to be fully responsible for the surprising changes he had been going through.

A distraction from his every life. A type of distraction he did not want to let go.

A vital one.

——————————————————

@erika92pu​ @christianbalefanatic​

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[127-mile]

Lonely hearts club.

Pairing: Sicheng x gender neutral reader.

Genre: College!au, strangers to lovers | Fluff, humor.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption.

Plot: Johnny decided to throw a Valentine's day party for him and his single friends. Guests must draw a name from a bowl to be paired with for the duration of the party. Sicheng picked your name.

Prompt: “We should do this again.”

Word count: +2.3k.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day, guys. This is part of the “Candy hearts collab”. The collab’s masterlist is in my main masterlist, go read the other writers’ works.

"Welcome to the Lonely hearts club," Johnny begins to say, hands on his hips. "if we are here today, it is because we all are single on this special day. So instead of getting drunk on our own, I decided to make a little game out of this party." from the makeshift bar, he takes a bowl filled with little pieces of paper. "You will all draw a name from this bowl, and will be paired with this person for the duration of the party."

"Is that why you asked me to write everyone's names instead of studying earlier?" you ask, and Johnny nods, lips curling into a smile. You watch as a few guests get up to leave, but Johnny shakes something in front of them. The key of the house. "I am not giving you a choice. The only way for you to leave is through the windows, but it will probably startle the alarms, so except if you want to spend the night in jail, you should come and pick a name."

Johnny thought of everything, and you are not surprised.

"Are you going to draw a name, or are you going to watch and laugh at us?" you ask the host of the party, and he nibbles on his lower lip. "I'm not watching you all fall in love while crying over my sad and pathetic romantic life." he is always so dramatic.

You take a step back when the guests come to pick up a piece of paper, and you grab a cup to fill it with vodka. Maybe if you are drunk enough, the person with whom you'll have to be paired will leave and let you enjoy the rest of the night.

"Are you here to force me into the living room, or to hide from Johnny and his crazy idea?" you hear when you head to the kitchen where you know you will be safe, but you are not alone. Your eyes meet the ones of a young man, blond hair, and soft brown eyes. "I am hiding, do not worry."

"Then you are allowed to stay."

You roll your eyes, and you sit on the kitchen counter. You listen to the names being called, the laughs that follow, and even the sound of the bowl falling and breaking when Johnny's name is being shouted by someone. "We are going to be here for awhile, so might as well make the most of it. I'm Sicheng."

You were not expecting the stranger to talk, but you are not mad about it. He has a nice voice, even muffled by the hubbub coming from the living room. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you Sicheng. Are you friends with Johnny, or Jaehyun?" you ask, and he takes a sip from his bottle of beer.

"I am unfortunately friends with both of them." oh, that must hurts, you think. "I'm truly sorry that you have to put up with both of them." you say in a comforting voice, and it makes Sicheng laugh. Oh, this is a really pretty sound. "I hope you'll find better friends after this party. I'm not offering my help, as I am friends with Johnny."

"Y/n! It's your turn!" oh fuck.

You get down from the counter, and you crouch behind the kitchen island which was a great idea, because Johnny enters the room immediately. "Win, have you seen Y/n?" you turn your head towards the young man, and you put you index finger against your lips, and he just shrugs. "I have no idea who Y/n even is."

Johnny heaves a sigh, but he does not leave the room. "Alright, then it's your turn Sicheng." Sicheng's eyes widen, he really thought he would be safe in this room, but turns out, nowhere is safe when Johnny has an idea. "Do I have to?" Johnny scoffs. "Yes. Don't make me pick a name for you."

Sicheng glares at you, and he leaves the kitchen. The guests are scattered around the living room and the garden, so Johnny and Jaehyun's eyes are the only one he feels on his back as he picks a piece of paper from the floor. The bowl is effectively broken, and no one bothered to clean.

He laughs when he reads the name on the paper, and he turns it towards the two boys. "Y/n! Come out, your party buddy is waiting for you."

A party buddy? What the fuck is a party buddy? You stay hidden, but then another voice is heard, and you have no choice but to straighten up. "Y/n, we can hide in the kitchen some more if you want."

You rest your shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed against your chest. "Did you cheat?" you ask when you see your name written on the piece of paper in between his fingers, and he shakes his head. "I would never! Fate is just funny like that."

"You two already know each other? That's cool! Go now, have fun, get drunk, don't throw up on the couch, and don't fuck in my parents' bed." Johnny says before disappearing in the garden with Jaehyun by his side. "We needs new friends." you mutter, and Sicheng agrees.

Without a word, you go back to the kitchen and you sit back down on the counter. "Do you think we did something terrible in our past lives to have them as friends?" you wonder out loud, and Sicheng just sighs. "Or we did something so great that they decided to slap us with some humility by giving us these friends."

He sure is right.

The first hour goes by quickly, and smoothly.

Sicheng talks about his studies, and his dream of opening a dance studio in town, and you talk about your own projects. The advantage of being in the kitchen is that no one is bothering you. Sometimes Johnny comes in to grab beers from the fridge, but he leaves right away.

"Should we go and visit Johnny's room?" Sicheng suddenly asks, and you smile. "I thought you would never ask."

You were not planning on spending an entire night with the same person, so you take what you can get to be a little bit more entertain. Not that Sicheng is boring, far from that, but the atmosphere is not the one of a Valentine's Day party. It is quite the opposite. The guests are awkward with each other, so they drink cup after cup of alcohol, and even inhebriated, it does not help them get the stick out of their asses.

Tomorrow morning is going to be a mess, you know it. You also know that Johnny is going to regret his decision of having this kind of party.

"Do you know which bedroom it is?" Sicheng asks as you walk through the corridor of the first floor. "I'm pretty sure this is this one." you say, poiting at a door with Johnny's name painted on it. "Oh, he is that kind of loser then."

"It's his childhood's bedroom, don't be so mean." you whisper, but in a way, he is right. Johnny is kind of a loser.

Unlike the other doors, this one is not unlocked. "He is making it too easy." you step inside the bedroom, and as expected, it looks really childish. The wallpaper is blue with cars on it, the bed is way too small for Johnny's long legs and plushies are all around the room, which is not too different from his actual bedroom.

"Look!" you join Sicheng in front of a whill covered with photos of Johnny's growth into adulthood. You take your phone out, and you snap a few pictures of the photos, and when Sicheng looks at you, you just shrug. "I need blackmail material for the next time he tries to pull a stunt like this."

You sit on the edge of the bed, and you look up. "Oh no, that's disgusting." you mutter as you see yourself on the mirror glue to the ceiling. "Does a kid really need a mirror on the ceiling? Ew!"

"I'm pretty sure he got it installed when his parents started traveling. For his conquests, I guess." Sicheng explains, and that makes sense, but that's still disgusting. Fucking someone in his childhood's bedroom, in a child's bed. The thing is, you are not even surprised.

"Do you think Johnny was serious when he talked about the alarms going off if we try to open a window?" you shrug, and you watch as Sicheng gets up to walk to the window. "We should try."

You open your eyes wide. "Do you really want to finish the night in jail? Johnny is stupid enough to tell the cops that we actually tried to break in the house while he was having a party." especially if he is drunk.

"We won't if we run fast enough."

Sicheng has something in his voice, something that prompts you on your feet and behind him. "Except if we die from the gall." you say in a low voice close to his ear and you see the skin of his arm break into goosebumps. "You are right. We should try from downstairs' bathroom."

"I have to get my things back anyway." together, you leave Johnny's bedroom and when you both have your jackets and bags, Sicheng locks the door behind you. "Isn't it a bit too mean to lock the door?" Sicheng looks back and he decides to unlock the door. He wants to piss off Johnny, but he does not want the guests to trash his house with vomit.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and you nod.

When he opens the window, nothing happens at first. And after a couple of seconds, an alarm echoes in the house. "Why can't they just have those silent alarm with a notification on their phone, it'd be way more discreet."

"Sicheng, get out of the bathroom, we don't have time!" he shakes his head with vigor and he slings a leg on the other side of the window and he gets out of the bathroom, face immediately whipped by the cold wind. You do the same, and he helps you to avoid you from tripping.

You hear screams inside the house, and you try not to imagine Johnny's face when he understands that someone actually opened a window to leave. "We are so dead." you say before running.

Sicheng runs and laughs at the same time, and hearing him laugh is enough to make you laugh too. His laugh is addicting, just like his presence, and you are glad Johnny did this. If you had not had to hide in the kitchen, you would not have met Sicheng, and that would have been a shame.

After a few minutes of intense run, Sicheng grabds your wrist and pushes you into a dark alley. "I think we're far enough." he says in a sigh, and you nod. You are breathless, hands on your knees, you break into a fit of giggles despite the burn in your lungs. "We are the worst friends ever." you breath out.

"They are the worst, we did what we had to do." he answers, and he is right. You freeze when you hear your phone rings in the pocket of your jacket. You take it out, and you bite the inside of your cheek when you see Johnny's picture on the screen.

"Johnny, why are you calling me, we are in the same house!" you exclaim in faux surprise, and Sicheng puts a hand on his mouth to muffle a laugh. "My hearing is pretty good, so yes, I definitely heard the alarm. But that does not answer my question, why are you calling me?" you nod, even though Johnny can't see it.

"Sicheng and I are in the house, we are watching you right now, you can't see us?" he is going to hate you both, and you are ready, really. "How many drinks did you have tonight? Because we are waving at you right now! Just turn around!" Johnny starts to mumble about the alcohol he has in his cup, so you take the opportunity to hang up.

"Did he believe you?" Sicheng asks, and you shrug. "I don't know, but what I know is that he thinks he is more drunk than he actually is, which is a good thing." Sicheng threads his fingers through his hair, and he inhales deeply.

"I'm starving, do you want to go eat something?"

And that's how you find yourself sitting in the booth of a fast food, in the middle of the night. "I thought this place would be empty tonight." you say, looking around.

A few couples are here, sharing fries and sodas, some people are alone, either enjoying a night light every other nights, a boy is even crying in the corner. "Poor boy probably got dumped."

"I would dump him with this haircut too." Sicheng grumbles, mouth full of fries, and you roll your eyes. Johnny has been texting you for the past twenty minutes, wondering why he can't find you, and every time the screen lights up, you chuckle. Poor boy.

"Well, all in all, that was a pretty nice party." you state, and the young man nods. "I think so too."

"We should do this again." he adds right away, and you tilt your head to the side. "Bothering Johnny?" Sicheng laughs softly, but he shakes his head. "No. This. Together. You know, like a date?" his cheeks take on a soft pink hue, and you can't help but smile. "I'd love that."

Tonight was your last night as part of the Lonely Hearts Club, and that's thanks to Johnny and his crazy ideas.

[ladyeliot]

No pressure

Request: Anonymous. Hiiii! I had a Chris Evans x reader request. The reader is famous and has to go through a stalker who breaks into her home. She calls 911 and isn't hurt, but Chris wasn't there so he comes to her and visits her and comforts her. It could be fluffy. It's ok if you don't want to do it. I'm sorry if it sucks. 😊

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warning: Stalker and at the end fluff.

Word count: 1636

Notes: Thank you very much for the request, I loved it. In the end I modified the character of the stalker a bit, but everything else is there. / English is not my native language, sorry for the mistakes.

Anyone could have said that having a nice comfortable life in a country house in the middle of the countryside and with a regular job could be very boring, but that was all you needed on days like this. The energy consumption of your life prevented you from enjoying the little things. Day after day you would arrive home after midnight after spending more than 10 hours a day locked up in a recording studio and if you were lucky at least 2 of the 10 hours had been profitable. When you weren't in the studio, you were touring in the remotest places on earth and when that didn't happen you were probably promoting the new album.

Without a doubt it was an unimaginable life, which during your childhood had been a dream for you, and after effort and persistence you had achieved it. However, it wasn't all that beautiful, and the sacrifices you made were endless.

Like any other Saturday you arrived home after 00:30 and because of the low traffic in Los Angeles your arrival was delayed by about 45 minutes. Crestwood Hills was a lovely residential neighbourhood to live in, with nice views of the Santa Monica Mountains and the coast, but quite problematic if you wanted to go from your studio in Venice Beach, yet you knew you wouldn't move from that house for anything.

The automatic garage door opened as soon as you got close to it, when it opened you could see the Christmas lights that you hung around the palm tree at the entrance last week, which gave a homely feeling to your garden, and that made you think of the comfort your bed would provide when you lay down in it.

The door closed behind the car and with great heaviness you picked up the guitar and went to the entrance door, thinking about how much you wanted to fall on the bed. To your surprise you saw a dim light coming out of the living room, accompanied by a pleasant smell of your favourite sauce. Strangely enough, you left your guitar on the floor, right next to the umbrella stand, and headed towards the light. The first thing that crossed your mind was that you had probably forgotten some date with Chris, or maybe some special date. However, there was nothing scheduled in your diary, so you assumed it would be a surprise that I had prepared.

"Mr. Evans?" you said with a half smile.

You entered the living room and right next to the window that led to the garden you came across a mahogany table decorated with purple tulips and two candles on each side, complemented by the plates and cutlery and a small note on your plate. You couldn't help but deny with your face as you smiled.

-This night is all ours. Just make yourself comfortable, enjoy and ask me for whatever you want.-

You arched an eyebrow forgetting how tired you were and how many things you would ask for if he only made himself available to you. A loud noise coming from the kitchen made you think about those juicy thoughts. You put the note back in its place, and leaned in, trying to expand your change of vision.

"Is everything all right out there?" you burst out laughing. "Aren't you going to come and give me my welcome?"

The feeling of happiness that had invaded your body vanished in an instant, unless Chris had shrunk a few inches, worn long hair and taken on a feminine look.

"What? What the hell are you doing here? How did you get into my house?!" Every pore of your body began to give off an intense heat that was present in your cheeks.

In an instant you rushed to her, taking away all the kitchen gadgets that were in her hands. The situation went from the most romantic to the darkest, and even a bit comical if you think about it coldly. The story you had with that person was long and full of chapters, but even so the current situation had gone too far.

"Get out of my house" you stretched out your right arm and pointed to the front door. "I have no idea how you got in, but the only thought that you've been wandering around, touching my things and preparing food in my kitchen is making me very nervous.

"Does that make you nervous now? We have to talk, you know that...", your ex-confident could not finish his words.

"Get out! I know that you haven't stopped following me since I came from Memphis, that you're there every night when I go out waiting for me at the back door of the studio and that more than once I've seen you on the beach when I go for a run. I told you and I'm telling you again, it's all over, there's no more, it's been a year and a half. And now get out of my house if you don't want me to call the police."

“It's all over, there's no more? What a harsh word for you" the honey-coloured eyes of the young woman who was just a few metres away from you, turned, but she hardly moved from her place. "After all this time, after all I've done for you!

"For me?! I can't believe it..." your tone calmed down, you had gone from anger to bitterness in a few seconds.  "Are you listening to yourself?"

She barely showed a clear intention to leave, you knew her well, but the last few months she had become a complete stranger to you.

"It's okay, you asked for it," you took the mobile phone out of your back pocket and typed in 911. "If you don't want to leave my house, and tell me how you got in, explain it to the police.

The fight of looks continued, it seemed that she wasn't going to give her arm to the wall and although you didn't want to put on any show either, as you preferred to do it on stage, you knew that if she didn't see against the sword and the wall she wouldn't leave your house. You hated her for getting you where you were going.

"911, what is the address of your emergency?" you stared for the last time into her eyes waiting for her to make a gesture to leave.

Time stopped and the wait became eternal, both for you and for the female voice coming out of the earpiece.

“911, what is the address of your emergency” repeated the woman.

The girl in front of you smiled uncertainly as she reached into the right pocket of her jeans and pulled out some keys, the keys to your house along with an alarm control.

"You got it," she whispered, heading for the exit door.

“911, what is the address of your emergency?”

"Nothing" you said with a thread of voice contemplating the keys on the kitchen counter and with your heart racing because of the amount of contradictions that had just happened.

Thirty-five minutes passed before Chris' car was planted in front of your house. During that time you got rid of the whole scenario that person had set up, avoiding leaving any trace of it. Chris arrived with an expression of disbelief mixed with irritation, all you needed was someone to calm you down, but in the end you had to spend fifteen minutes trying to get him to relax.

"I'm sorry" said Chris. He put his arms around you and put a little kiss in your hair. "I just... I don't want to take thirty minutes to get here if anything happens.”

"I don't think she'll show up again," you said sure of that fact.

"I don't care. Today this happened, tomorrow anything else can happen," he said kissing your hair again, and realising how serious he was being changed his tone to one of comedy. "If I could I would wrap you in bubble wrap so nothing would happen to you."

"You know that wrapping obsesses me, in less than two hours all the bubbles would be bursting," your comment made Chris laugh, so you could finally breathe easy when you saw him like that again.

"Come here."

The hug broke up and Chris led you to the sofa, sitting in a position where you were facing each other.

"Listen. I've been thinking..."

"Thinking?" you arched an eyebrow after the playful comment, trying to break its seriousness again.

"Yes, honey, sometimes I think," Chris responded to your comment with the same playful tone. "No, listen, I know you're not very friendly about serious conversations, but listen to me. I've been thinking, and I've been thinking about the idea of living together. Don't think it's because of what happened today, or what I said before, I've been thinking about it since last month when we spent Thanksgiving in Boston," you nodded slightly, wrapping yourself in memories of that familiar day. "I'm not asking you to do it immediately, I just want you to think about it, no pressure.”

"No pressure," you repeated arching an eyebrow and looking at Chris' hands that were on your lap.

"No pressure," he imitated.

"Okay," you whispered, taking one of his hands and giving him a slow kiss on the back of his hand as you let yourself be enveloped by his gaze. "I'll think about it."

It took you just two seconds to approach her lips and seal your answer with a kiss.

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