#despite the fact that we don’t get along and she’s been sheltered her entire life which is cool but not when trying to act superior to me

[egopathic]

nothing more irritating to me than slightly older friends who have lived pretty normal lives talking to me like i’m 7 and/or giving me life advice on things i’ve been dealing with forever and certainly never asked about.

[mvshortcut]

If this is a weird question, feel free to delete, but in the midst of trying to follow all the Maren/Milk Divorce/Marriage drama lore, I have to ask: why is your nemesis a turkey and how is he (or she or it, does the turkey even have a name? idk...) involved in this? Do you and this particular turkey have a deep complicated backstory of betrayal and hate that has been building to this fight or did you and the turkey just see each other one day and declare yourselves enemies?

I attempted to tell the abridged version of this tale. I really did.

The long and short of it is, despite going to college in a relatively urban environment, I have been haunted and stalked and vexed day and night by a gang of turkeys. Yes, a gang of wild turkeys that live in the city. No, I don't understand it either. They're like oversized pigeons at this point.

The turkeys have been a background presence in my college experience for some time. But, towards the end of last semester, I became aware that the turkeys appeared to be honing in on me specifically.

It started with one turkey, whom I have dubbed Victorian Maiden Turkey because the turkey looks very ill for some reason? very grey and scrawny and rumpled feathers and constantly seems confused about where she is and what is going on. She looks like a fainting waif of a Victorian maiden that needs to be sent to the seaside for her health, where she will magically be cured by the sun and fresh air. (No relation to the fact that she's been moved out of her city home, which is at least composed of 35% asbestos.)

ANYWAYS. so. Victorian Maiden Turkey seemed to like. follow me when I went to class? or at least wait for me? I had a long walk to class, and it was kind of through a residential area, and she'd just be like. hiding out in someone's driveway, staring at me as I walked past? On the way home from class I walked an entirely different route through a different part of town, and she was there too? (I know it's the same turkey because, again, none of the others resemble sickly waifs.) She was literally hiding in the bushes waiting for me to go past. I only noticed her, in fact, because I nearly tripped over her.

This continued for the next couple weeks. I kept running into this turkey, along with a few others, in different parts of town, going to class or the store or on my walks. I spoke to friends and my roommate and none of them reported being tailed by turkeys all over town. Only me. My roommate and my mom both agreed with me that there was only one possible explanation: someone had put out a hit from the turkey mafia on me, and this turkey was sent to scope out the scene and learn my routines, waiting for the best opportunity to strike.

Now, I’m getting nervous because the end of the semester is fast approaching. If these turkeys are gonna make a move, they’re gonna have to do it soon, right? Mentally I’m counting down the days until I can get the hell outta dodge. My days are numbered. And, on top of fearing for my life, I still have to study for finals, since I don’t believe any of my professors will accept “I’m being stalked by the turkey mafia” as an excuse.

Sunday. Last day before finals week begins. Trying to entice myself to push through the home stretch, I grab my picnic blanket, pick up some Chipotle, and bring my work to the park. First big mistake on my part - big open area. No shelter. No witnesses.

Second big mistake: I wear sneakers with laces. I remove my shoes and socks and spread out on my blanket under a tree to better enjoy the warm day. Chekhov is cocking his gun as we speak.

So. As an unsuspecting naive college student, I get straight to work enjoying my Chipotle and ignoring my studying. Then, just as the “ah shit, finals start tomorrow” reality begins to settle in and I finally buckle down on my work, I hear a rustling from over yonder.

Emerging from someone’s driveway and entering the park is—a turkey. Not Victorian Maiden Turkey—he looks entirely too well-fed. In fact he’s a rather hefty-looking fellow. The turkey slowly wends his way over to me; and, as I’ve seen turkeys several times around the city before, I assume we’re cool and proceed to ignore him.

Except—the turkey keeps approaching. We’re gonna call him Turkey Number One. (In the moment, I did not call him “Turkey Number One” for the same reasons that people in the early 1900’s didn’t call The Great War “World War I,” but we’ll get to that later.)

Turkey Number One continues to approach. As he approaches, he gradually becomes larger by puffing himself up. At some moments he simply seems interested in investigating me and my Chipotle and my water bottle. But at other times he begins to make a variety of unhappy turkey noises, but refrains from outright gobbling at me thus far. At this point he’s within 6-10 feet of me. Mildly annoyed—why is this turkey going to act all huffy at me if he’s the one choosing to invade my space? When he has a whole park’s worth of space in which to ignore me?—I stand up, grab my laptop, and make to step away from my blanket for a moment to let the turkey cool off for a moment.

Now, here's where Chekhov begins to chuckle ominously at me from the audience. Remember how I took my shoes off earlier? Well, as I now discover, the tree above me produces some rather sharp variety of seeds, which will easily stab the bottom of my feet if I attempt to step on them without shoes. The whole ground is covered in these seeds.

Not a problem, right? 

Think again, Milk. The turkey is impatient and unhappy with me bending down to tie my shoes. As soon as I stoop down, he begins to approach my blanket, gobbling furiously at full volume and fluffing up his feathers. He backs off when I stand up, but every time I attempt to bend to put my shoes on, he resumes his approach.

Okay. This is fine. It’s gonna be just fine. I mean, I’m actively texting good-byes to my friends and mother and roommate, but it’s gonna work out just fine.

And to be honest? It does. Turkey #1 and I go back and forth for a few minutes. He begins to calm down, seems unsure of whether to perform a mating dance at my water bottle or not. Eventually he decides against it and takes his leave and I, with a sigh of relief, resume studying, thinking that the ordeal is over.

The ordeal is not over.

About an hour later, Turkey Number 1 returns from a different angle of the park. And—he’s brought his girlfriend this time, Turkey Number 2! (She is also well-fed and bears no relation to Victorian Maiden Turkey.) I’m still unclear as to whether Turkey Number 1 wanted me to meet his girlfriend, or if he thought I was encroaching on his territory/relationship and was like, “See? I have a girlfriend, man! Back off!” yada yada.

All in all, the second wave goes rather smoothly. Turkey Number 1 is all puff and no bite. Turkey Number 2 is visibly embarrassed by the antics of her boyfriend’s posturing (I’m not a bird behavioral expert but I recognize The Expression. It is universal). She occupies herself with eating seeds for a few minutes, I have some more Chipotle, Turkey Number 1 gradually cools off—it’s nice. After a moment Turkeys Number 1 and 2 exit the park and I, once again, return to my studying.

Lulled into a false sense of security by the last turkey visit, I don’t bat an eye when Turkeys Number 1 and 2 return to the park an hour later. They were fine last time, right? No big deal.

Then, over the horizon, a challenger approaches.

At long last, my friends, allow me to introduce you to my nemesis. Turkey Number 3 is the largest turkey I’ve seen in my life, though I believe he’s at least 80% ruffled feathers and air. And he is mad.

To be perfectly honest I’m still not sure what he was mad at. I believe it was a combination of 1.) mad at Turkey 1 for having a girlfriend he wanted, 2.) mad at me for invading what I now realize is clearly His Park, or 3.) mad at me for being a potential challenger for Turkey 2, which. Isn’t actually his girlfriend. She’s Turkey 1’s girlfriend. But it’s whatever, yknow? 

(My mom has offered a potential fourth explanation, which is that Turkey 3 viewed ME as a potential turkey girlfriend, despite the fact that I am neither a girl nor a girlfriend nor a turkey nor a turkey girlfriend, or any combination of these. My mother believes he was attempting to woo me through impressive displays of force. I have henceforth refused to entertain my mother’s suggestion for my own sanity.)

So. Despite attempting to rationally and calmly explain to Turkey 3, my soon-to-be nemesis, that I am not interested in stealing anyone’s turkey girlfriend, he refuses to be placated. He puffs up larger than I thought possible for a turkey and charges directly at my blanket. Not only does he make deafening enraged gobbling noises that can certainly be heard halfway across the city, he also emits a variety of enraged puffing and huffing and squawking noises. Did you guys know that turkeys can extend all of their feathers at once, creating a “blast-off” sound effect that simultaneously propels them forwards? Neat, right? I didn’t know that either! 

Now I do.

Having failed on Potential Reason Turkey Is Mad Number 3, I move to Potential Reason Turkey is Mad Number Two. I attempt to explain, again calmly and rationally, that if the turkey will just allow me a moment to put on my shoes so I don’t stab my feet on the seeds and roll up my blanket, I will gladly vacate his park. 

Despite clearly wanting me to leave, Turkey 3 resists my each and every attempt to do so. He maintains a respectful 6-foot social distancing if I remain standing. The second I bend down and reach for my shoes, however, he puffs and gobbles and charges at me. And so I straighten up, my nemesis backs off, and the cycle repeats. 

Friends. My absolute bastard of a newfound nemesis holds me hostage there for thirty minutes like this. And he’s good at it, too. Sometimes he’ll give me false hope too, wander off to fight Turkey Number 1 for his girlfriend’s hand/wing (said girlfriend is still munching seeds off the ground, clearly disgusted with them both.) I’ll take advantage of his distraction, bend down and reach for my shoes—and my nemesis will come charging out from behind a tree or materialize out of thin air, squawking and gobbling and puffing with the force of a thousand suns. (I still have no idea how he knew when I was reaching for my shoes. He must’ve had some ingrained sort of nemesis-sense.)

Now, you might be asking, Milk, how on earth did you escape? Did you pull off some clever and daring maneuver? No. It was because someone else happened to be stupider than I was. 

We’ll call him Baseball Cap Guy. Baseball Cap Guy enters the park, sees the turkeys, and decides it’s a really smart idea to attempt to PET Turkey Number Two on the head.

That went about as well as you would expect. 

Turkey Numbers 1 and 3 immediately put aside their differences to tag team Baseball Cap Guy. Inspirational, really. Turkey Number 2 resumes eating berries and seeds, supremely unbothered and supremely disgusted.

And I, Milk, take advantage of the commotion to jam my shoes onto my feet, snatch up my blanket, and hightail it out of the park. I use the remaining 5% of my battery to inform my mother and friends and roommate that I have not, in fact, been murdered by the turkey mafia. Then I made straight for home, hoping against hope that Victorian Maiden Turkey wasn’t tailing me or hiding behind a bush waiting to trip me and suchlike.

Now, it would be easy to think that the Baseball Cap Guy was an absolute idiot for trying to pet a wild turkey. I’m not saying that’s an incorrect conclusion. However, there was a point during the first wave where Turkey Number One was approached by an older lady on her afternoon power walk. I was hoping against hope I wasn’t about to watch a sweet old lady get mauled by a turkey. She, delighted, whips open her phone and begins to coo—actually coo— at the bird like she’s his auntie, like ohh, what a handsome little man you are! Your feathers are so soft—and how puffy you are, mister! and all that.

And—Turkey Number 1 absolutely eats that up. He struts back and forth, posing for her and clucking at her and letting her take her fill of photos for a solid 5 minutes.

So. My current hypothesis is that there is a Continuum of Turkey Vibes, ranging from Old Lady (preen for photoshoot) to Milk (???) to Baseball Cap Guy (attack on sight).

And uh. That’s the story, folks. I survived finals, returned home unscathed, and have spent the summer anticipating a rematch. I’ve also spent some time reflecting—it’s strange, having a nemesis. I’ve always wanted a nemesis. I didn’t quite picture them as a turkey, per say, but for some reason it just feels right, yknow? I think we’re compatible. I both dread and oddly look forward to our next meeting.

You’ll be pleased to know that the first thing I did upon returning to school this fall was go back to the park, ya know, like a fool. The first trip was pretty quiet. I introduced Turkey Number Two and some of her besties to my mom. I went back once to study at the park. That time, I met no less than 12 turkeys, many of which were little turklings. I think I introduced them to my mom, so I get to meet the family now? Unsure. Anyways. 

I also witnessed a man, with a golden retriever and a turkey sitting side-by-side in front of him. The man tossed dog treats one after another to the golden retriever and to the turkey. (Spoiler alert: this one ended with a pack of five turkeys chasing the man and his dog down the street once he ran out of treats.)

Fun fact! Did you know turkeys can fly? No, really—not just “hold themselves aloft for short distances” but like “fly up into extremely tall trees, making a colossal ruckus as they beat their wings rapidly and gobble and yell?”

Anyways, once it was growing quite dark and impossible to make out anything other than the silhouettes of no less than five gigantic birds looming high in the branches above me, ready to launch themselves directly on top of my head at a moment’s notice, I decided it was time to exit the park for the evening.

I still haven’t run into my nemesis yet. That’s okay—I think I’m beginning to infiltrate the turkey ranks a bit. And I know he hasn’t forgotten about me. He’s just out there, biding his time.

Please admire these photographs of my nemesis as well as his magnificent ass. Thank you for your time.

[deepdarkdelights]

Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 13.3k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Victorian Era, Time Travel, Misogyny, Jack The Ripper Murders, Forced Relationships, Forced Stripping and Dressing, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of dead bodies, Depictions of a corpse, Depictions of Wounds, Use of Drugs, Illicit Behaviors 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview:  You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was. 

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you. 

A/N: Yay! It’s my first fic up after my two week break! So, this is pertaining to the Jack The Ripper Murders. For storytelling purposes, the timeline of events has been altered as well as details of the crimes. This story may not be for everyone so please read the warnings and take them into consideration before reading. Your mental health and wellbeing should always be your number one priority. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜

You could see your blurry reflection in the glass of the watch face you held in your hands. 

You wiped away your tears with the heel of your palm violently as you sniffled tiredly. It had been a long day. 

You were coming to terms with the fact that you were the last living member of your family, everyone else had died and moved on. Your mother had been young when she had you, but she was also young when she left you. Mere moments after you had been given life and were brought into the world, she had departed shortly after. 

All you had ever known was the warm, comforting embrace of your grandfather. He had been more like your father your entire life and now he had left too. And all you had to remember him by was his old, Victorian house, some grainy photographs, and his pocket watch. 

Today had been the day you learned of his last will and testament, and he had left you everything he had ever owned, especially that pocket watch. He had carried it everywhere with him for as long as you could remember, the long, silver chain neatly clipped to his vest at all times. He would often remove the watch from his pocket, swiping his thumb over the sealed lid fondly before flicking it open and tracking the time. He had never once been late to anything, something he bragged about often. 

If you closed your eyes, you could visualize a scene that was not unfamiliar to you. You would be seated on the floor in a pile of pillows by the fireplace, the flames crackling and emanating a comforting warmth. The scent of black cherry tobacco wafting under your nose as your grandfather settled a thick book on his knees, pausing his reading aloud to puff at his tobacco pipe. You would giggle happily, wrapping your quilt tighter around your body as you watched him attempt to blow smoke rings. He would then slip his hand into his pocket and remove the watch, the chain clinking about as he flipped the watch open. 

“It’s almost half past nine, don’t you have school tomorrow?” He would ask you, raising one eyebrow in questioning. 

You, at ten years old, were familiar with what this meant, and you absolutely refused to head up those creaky stairs to bed when the two of you were in the middle of embarking on an adventure. 

“Please, just one more chapter!” You would beg, eyes wide and watery with a pout settled on your lips. 

“Alright,” He would concede after a long pause of faux thinking, “We do have time, don’t we?”

But that's where your grandfather was wrong. You didn’t have nearly enough time. You were twenty two when time came and took a hold of your grandfather and left you in the dust. That was the thing about time, it moved quickly and was unforgiving. Twenty two years was not enough, you were far too young when you said your last goodbyes. 

Fuck, and now you were crying again. 

You laughed humorlessly to yourself, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and wiping your tears away again. Crying would do you no good, he would want you to be happy. Death did not mean the end of a life, it meant the celebration of one, was something he had once told you. 

It was time to start celebrating then. 

You uncorked a bottle of wine, throwing the cork into the sink and having a staring match with a wine glass before you sighed and grabbed the bottle by its neck and left the room. You lit the fireplace before sitting down in your grandfather’s chair, throwing a leg up on his ottoman and taking a swig from the bottle. That made you feel a little better. 

You tilted your head back before turning your face into the fabric, the scent of black cherry tobacco still clung to the chair. Your eyes burned again with unshed tears as you nestled your head closer to it, breathing the scent in deeply before taking a longer swig of wine from the bottle. You were sure you looked pathetic. 

You groaned in irritation, the last thing you had wanted to do was throw yourself a pity party yet here you were, drowning your problems in wine like a young mom who is questioning why she didn’t use protection. 

You sat up, grabbing the neck of the bottle and setting it on the side table before standing up on weak knees. It was too weird being in that room without him. You weren’t ready to move on so quickly. So, you killed the fire and shuffled up the creaky stairs and headed to your bedroom down the hall. 

Once the door clicked shut behind you, you flung your clothes off into the corner of the room and grabbed an old, large, band shirt you tended to use as pajamas. After you slipped the raggedy fabric over your head you slid beneath your sheets, fisting the comforter in your hand and pulling it up to your nose. 

You could see the silver of the watch glinting under the moonlight on your night stand. Without much thought you reached across your bed and grabbed it, pulling it under the blanket with you. You  twirled the delicate chain around your fingers as you pressed the latched watch to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep tugged at your mind. But, despite that, your head was still filled with the memories of him that you tried to shake away.

You missed him, and you wanted to go back and see him again. 

~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm food wafting throughout the house. In your delirium you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow, you were sure it was just your grandfather whipping something up. 

And then you were jolting awake. There were two things you knew: one, your grandfather was a terrible cook who considered spam as breakfast, and two: he was dead. 

You shot up in bed, your sheets pooling around your waist as you cocked your head towards the door, listening in silence. You could faintly hear the sound of pots and pans clinking and the clacking of heels along the wood floor of the hallway. 

Someone was in the house. 

You snatched your phone from your bedside table and slipped free from the warmth of your bed. The pocket watch swung into your thigh, the chain still wrapped around your fingers from the night before. You kept your phone on the ready, prepared to dial the emergency line in seconds. 

When you opened the door you stuck your head out into the hallway, swinging it from right to left. You couldn’t see anybody, but the scent of food had gotten stronger. 

You allowed your door to swing shut behind you, the knob clicking with an air of finality. The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you made your way down the stairs, dodging each squeaky board from years of practice. You knew this house like the back of your hand. 

Once you had descended the stairs you found yourself in the first floor hallway, the kitchen door to your right. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took in a deep breath before tensing your body with determination and flinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall. 

A cry of shock echoed through the kitchen, the clash of pot and pans forcing a scream from your throat in response. Standing in front of you was what appeared to be a maid, her wispy brown hair tied into a bun at the base of her neck beneath a hat matching the long black dress and crisp white apron she donned. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the nineteenth century. 

The two of you stared at each other in shock for a moment after your scream had died down and fizzled out. Her hand laid limply on her chest over her heart as her shoulders heaved with surprised breaths. 

Her gaze flickered up and down your form, her cheeks quickly reddening at your state of undress. 

“I cannot believe this!” She suddenly cried, throwing down the spatula she held in her other hand. “I’ve told the young master numerous times to stop consorting with heathens like yourself!”

“Heathen?” You echoed in confusion. “Hold on, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

“In your home? The audacity! You lay with the young master once and you believe yourself to be the lady of the estate? I will not have a harlot like you traipsing around!” She yelled back. 

“Lady, what the fuck are you on? You’re the one who broke into my house! Get out!” You screamed. 

“Emmett, Emmett come quickly! The young master let in another stray!” She called.

In a matter of seconds a man entered the room dressed in a three piece suit and gloves, he looked much like a butler. 

“Again? This is the third one this month, Mary.” He sighed in disgust, eyeing your form. “The indecency of this one, running around naked.”

You were speechless, all you could do was dumbly look down at your bare legs. The shirt you wore was fairly big, it covered everything important. Still, you grabbed at the hem and harshly pulled it down further, your mouth agape at his words. 

“Come now...miss. It’ll do you little good to linger here, we wouldn’t want to get the authorities mixed up in this, they aren’t fond of your kind as you know I’m sure.” 

You couldn’t think of anything to say until he approached you, gripping your arm roughly and tugging you out of the kitchen. 

“Get your fucking hands of off me, fucker!” You yelled, struggling to free yourself from his grasp. 

He tutted to himself as he ripped the front door open, “Such colorful language and such poor manners. Well, I suppose that is to be expected from women of your status.”

“Stop!” You cried, digging your heels into the floor. “You can’t throw me out of my own house! If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops, I swear!”

The butler merely shook his head, tired and annoyed with your antics. “Have a pleasant day, and for your own sake, find yourself a husband and stay off of the streets.”

And with that, he threw you out onto the front porch and slammed the heavy, mahogany door shut, the lock clicking into place. You spent the following moments banging your fists against the door and demanding to be let back in, once you realized how futile that was you unlocked your phone and dialed the emergency line. 

But you weren’t met with anything, no ringing, no voicemail, nothing. Your face scrunched up in confusion, your phone didn’t have a signal...how was that even possible?

And that was when you realized, for certain, that something was very wrong. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were surrounded by trees. 

You stumbled backwards in surprise, knocking into the front door behind you. All of the houses that once lined your street were gone. For miles around you all you could see was a dense forest and dirt and gravel roads. Your sweet, elderly neighbors house was gone, the ice cream shop that you could once see from your house was gone, the sidewalks and the fire hydrants were missing. It was as if they had never been there in the first place. 

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your stomach turning and your heartbeat thundering violently in your chest.

Everything was gone, how was that possible? Where did everyone go? Where did all of the buildings go? There was no way that they could all have been decimated and replaced with trees that towered higher than your house in one night. What in the absolute fuck was happening?

You crouched down to your knees, weaving your fingers through your messy hair as panicked sobs wracked your body. You had no explanation for what was happening, you had no idea what the hell was going on. Your phone wasn’t working, you were kicked out of your own home, and everyone was missing. 

You sat there for a moment, crying to yourself in a complete and utter panic before you realized that you needed to at least try and find someone who could help you. You allowed yourself a few more moments to squeeze out some more tears, heave your last sobs, and dry your wet face. You had done a lot of crying the past few days, enough tears to last you a lifetime. It was time to get to work now and figure out what was going on. 

So, you stepped foot onto the manicured lawn before you and made your way to the dilapidated road ahead of you. The dirt and gravel dug into the bare skin of your feet causing you to wince and jump in pain. It was better and easier to walk alongside the road rather than on it. 

The more you walked, and the further you walked, it became apparent that it was not only your street that had suffered changes overnight, but your entire town. What had once been a shopping district you frequented often in your teens was now a sea of never-ending trees. You hadn’t seen this much greenery since you went hiking years ago. 

The home that you remembered was much different from the sights you were seeing now. Your house had been the only Victorian on the street, the others newer builds that had popped up over the decades. It looked like any other street you had ever seen, an amalgamation of history in a couple blocks. But now, it appeared to be a clean slate, devoid of noise, devoid of life, and devoid of structure. 

In an eerie way, you felt like you were at the beginning of time, back before humanity had cultivated the earth and turned vibrant greenery into concrete jungles. It was as beautiful and it was lonely, if you hadn’t had that run in with the maid and the butler earlier, you could have assumed you were the only person on earth. How startling and stifling that would have been, to be just a house plopped in the middle of nowhere, with not a person in sight. 

It was not unlike how you felt now, alone walking alongside an empty road surrounded by trees. You could feel the miles passing as dirt clung to the soles of your feet, the skin burning in protest as you continued walking aimlessly in search of any signs of another person or house in the area. 

The thick layer of dark clouds hanging in the sky was not doing anything for your mood. You were certain you would be doomed to spend the day or possibly even the night in the trees trying to take cover from the onslaught of rain that was sure to come. 

And, just as you had predicted, all it took was one roll of thunder through the sky before the clouds let loose a torrent of rain. Your only saving grace was that the rainfall was not ice cold, but lukewarm. Your other concern was that where there was thunder, there would be lightning. At least you weren’t the tallest thing in the area though, a tree was more likely to be struck than you were. But that would be the cherry on top of your shitty day wouldn’t it, to be struck by lighting as well? 

But, just as your hopes were about as low and hell, you spotted something in the distance. The structure was familiar, you were certain you had seen those peaked roofs and stone walls many times before. Yesterday you had been driving on the highway when you passed the country club, and now you were certain that’s where you were. Where you stood now and once been home to a highway, and mere miles away was the country club you had passed everyday on your way to work. 

If you were lucky, the staff would take pity on you and maybe you could shower and get some food in you before you called the authorities to deal with those intruders of yours. 

By the time you finally made it up to the country club, you were completely soaked to the bone. The only pieces of clothing you had on, being your underwear and your oversized t-shirt, were drenched with water. You looked like a drowned rat if you were being honest with yourself. 

But, even in your panicked and miserable state, you took notice of a few things. The signs that once held directions and the name of the club were gone, nothing there that even hinted at their prior existence. The parking lot was long gone as well, not to mention the caged in tennis courts and the golf grounds. It was all missing. The only thing that stood as familiar to you was the large, Victorian manor itself, and the grand water fountain in the center of the roundabout. This roundabout was made of gravel though, instead of the cement you remembered it being. And, to your disdain, the tiny pieces of gravel had returned to puncture the delicate skin of our feet once more. 

You were tired, you were cranky, and you were wet. All you wanted to do at this point was run inside and collapse on the polished floor.  

You sped over the gravel as fast as you could before running up the stone steps, sliding under the cover of the roof that was fixed over the front door. You raised your hand up and curled your numb fingers around the door knocker. And, with difficulty, you swung the door knocker against the rich wood of the front door frantically. If there was a doorbell you would have been annoyingly ringing it nonstop, so you had to settle for banging the door knocker violently instead. 

While you were mid swing the door was ripped open violently, your soaked form almost being tugged inside as you were still attached to the knocker. A man stood in front of you, he too was dressed in a three piece suit, gloves adorning his hands and polished oxfords sitting under the hem of his pant legs. His suit was much finer than the butler’s from before, but the expression on his face was just as, if not even more, stern than the butler that came before him. 

“Please,” You huffed out, using your best pleading gaze. “I need help.”

“I think you are mistaken, miss. I do not believe you have any business with the master of this estate.” He responded coolly, a harsh edge to his tone. 

“Wait please!” You cried as he backed away and attempted to shut the door. You gripped the door frame, wedging your arm in place to keep it from closing. “I just need to use your phone.”

“I’m sorry miss, but -”

“Claude? Who’s at the door?” Another voice echoed from inside. 

“Please, can I come in for just a second?!” You called inside as you heard the click of footsteps approaching the door. 

“Master, I think it would be best if you let me take care of this.” 

“It’s alright, Claude, step aside.” The voice responded. The butler, Claude, edged away from the door in uncertainty before disappearing inside the depths of the club. 

Seconds later, a new man replaced him, opening the door much wider than the butler had. Your heart dropped into your stomach in astonishment and embarrassment. He was probably the most attractive man you had ever had the privilege of seeing and for a moment you were convinced you had fallen into an alternate universe because all of the men you had seen on a daily basis were nothing in comparison to him. 

He was rather tall with tan skin, dark hair, and a set of dangerous dimples. It took everything in you to restrain yourself from delicately poking one of those smooth craters in his cheeks that was calling out to you. 

With a sudden jolt you realized he had been staring at you just as intently as you had been staring at him. His lips had parted and his eyes had darkened. You could feel his gaze traveling over the dips of your collarbones and the exposed flesh of your legs and arms before settling on the thin fabric that stretched over your chest. 

Heat instantly flooded beneath the skin of your face, your arms crossing over your chest. In your moment of hysteria you had forgotten your lack of bra and the rain. You were sure this man had seen more than you had wanted to show him. 

His tongue swiped over his lower lip at your action, his dark, half lidded eyes flicking up to meet your own in a rather sensual stare. 

“Are you a lady of the night?” He asked, his voice deeper than before. 

Ah, that was a term that you had become rather accustomed to today. Well it’s synonyms at least: heathen, harlot, and now lady of the night. 

“No!” You cried in frustration, you had no issues with sex workers, what you did have an issue with was that because of your state of dress everyone had come to assume you were looking for some!

“Please, I just need help.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping from the stress you had endured all day. 

The look in his eyes had all but disappeared after your omission of the truth. You were not a lady of the night, you were just scared, confused, and in need of help. 

“Come inside.” He said, opening the door wider. 

You looked up at him in surprise, shocked to see a gentle smile gracing his lips. Before he could regret offering you shelter, you hastily entered the front room, your arms still wrapped securely around you as you felt the warmth of the building rush through you. 

Yet again, though, you noticed things were different. The front desk was gone, the signs pointing to the bathrooms and the changing rooms were missing, and there weren’t any people other than yourself and the man that stood before you.

“Where is everyone?” You asked him, turning to face the man as he closed the door behind the two of you. 

“What do you mean?” He asked you, equally as confused as you were. 

“This is a country club...where are all of the guests?” 

“Country club?” He laughed, his dimples becoming more prominent as his eyes filled with mirth. “This is my home, there isn’t a country club for miles.”

“What?” You whispered to yourself, the water from your shirt sliding off of you and tapping against the wood of the floor rhythmically. 

“They’re still fairly new after all, not many around here I’m afraid. You must be lost then?” He mused. 

“What do you mean they’re new? They’ve been around for years, this is one. I’ve been here numerous times!” You explained, exasperated. 

“Are you feeling well, miss?” He asked, stepping closer to you without letting his gaze wander as it had before. 

No, you weren’t feeling well at all, you were incredibly fucking confused. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, none at all. Country clubs weren’t new, they had been around for over a century now. 

And that was when it all began to make sense. All of the pieces suddenly had fallen into place. All the houses on your street were gone, the shopping center, the highway, the signs and the parking lot were missing from the country club. Your phone was unable to get a signal in the hours that had passed. You had encountered four strangers that spoke in a manner you had not heard often and dressed like they were from a different era. 

“What - what year is it?” You asked, your body trembling now from anxiety and from your wet shirt. 

“1891, of course.” He responded, his face appearing even more confused than it had before. He was looking at you in concern as well, he wasn’t sure why you would be asking him such an obvious and ridiculous question. 

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you began to stumble backwards, your legs going weak underneath you as you slumped to the ground. Your vision was focusing and un-focusing, your head feeling light as you could faintly hear his panicked voice in front of you. It was beginning to sound further and further away though as your bare thighs met the cold, wood floor beneath you. 

You were having a stressful day.

~~~~~~~

When you woke it was to a cold compress against your forehead and the feeling of a plush mattress beneath you. For a moment you thought that you were at home again, that the past few hours had all been some fever dream and your grandfather was taking care of you in your state. 

But the feeling of the thin, silver chain still wrapped around your fingers assured you otherwise. That had not been a dream in the slightest. 

You jerked forward, the cold cloth flying onto your lap as your hands scrambled across the top of the duvet reflexively searching for your phone. 

“It’s alright, relax, you’ll only worsen your condition!” A voice seethed as hands settled on your shoulders and coaxed you back against the pillows behind you. 

It was him again, the man with the dimples. 

“You have a fever, it won’t do you any good to move around too much.” He lectured you, his hand waving around as he scolded you. 

You quickly caught sight of something wrapped up in his ringed fingers, it was your phone. 

“Give that back!” You yelled, snatching your phone back from his hands and holding it tight against your chest. You were glad that your phone was password protected, not that he would ever know what to do with it even if he managed to unlock it by accident. 

“What is it exactly?” He asked you as he relented, taking a seat in a chair that had been moved to your bedside. 

“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is.” You replied, shooting him a look that he reciprocated with shock and astoundment. He probably had never been spoken to like that before, a man with what you could only assume held power, status, and wealth. There was a part of you while still shocked at your predicament enjoyed the idea of fucking with some rich people. 

“As a guest in my home I think I have every right to know.” He shot back with a quirk of his brow, jerking his chin up. 

The audacity. So, as petty as it was, you refused to dignify his statement with a response. 

“Fine, if you won’t tell me then I’ll have to assume you don’t know what it is either and you stole it just like you did that watch. It’s to be expected of someone of your...nature.” He insinuated, his gaze flicking over your form from head to toe.

“My nature?” You replied, your skin going hot with untapped irritation. 

“Well, a prostitute of course.” He answered with such certainty it made you want to scream. 

“For fuck’s sake how many times do I have to say I’m not!” You yelled, throwing your head back against the pillows. 

“Well of course you are, with that way you looked coming up here you were practically naked, how could you not be a pros-”

“First of all,” you interrupted, “The proper term is sex worker and you have no right judging women who have no other choice and even if they did choose it you still have no right to demean them for taking up a profession that employs a service and receives payment for it like any other job!” 

“Secondly, the manner in which I am dressed does not mean you get to make baseless assumptions about me or my job without knowing why I look this way in the first place.”

He sat there for a moment, stunned. A long pause of silence passed between the two of you before a smile split across his face, those dimples returning in full force. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Did I ask?” You retorted, annoyed, and overall confused from his sudden change in demeanor. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that maybe he had a thing for women putting him in his place but you quickly shoved that down in embarrassment. 

“Well it’s only proper, you’re already in my bed anyways I figured you should know my name.” He replied with a boyish smirk.

You choked in confusion and shock before softly muttering your name in response. You did owe him that much, he had taken you in and taken care of you. That was the only thing you would give him though, his prior attitude still stung. 

“I’d like to inform you that despite your progressive thoughts not everyone will see eye to eye with you, miss. You’re lucky you found your way here, there’s a murderer stalking these streets.”

“A murderer?” You echoed, your blood chilling in your veins. 

“You don’t know of Jack the Ripper? That’s what the public titled him at least.” He explained. 

Holy shit, the timing was perfect. Namjoon had told you the year was 1891, whatever had caused your slip through time sent you right back into the tailend of the Jack the Ripper murders. You had been lucky that he hadn’t stumbled across you, because despite your beliefs that your attire didn’t mean anything, everyone you had met had mistaken you for a sex worker. It would be expected that the infamous ripper himself would have thought the same and your name would have joined the list of victims. 

That was too close of a call for you. 

“Has he killed recently?” You asked out of morbid curiosity, you were hoping, selfishly, that you had arrived after his last victim. 

“He’s been rather active, I should know, I’m the one investigating him.” He said, a look of irritation falling over his features as he crossed his leg over the other, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

“You’re an officer, then?” You asked. 

He responded with an annoyed snort, rolling his eyes. “Thankfully no, I’m more of a private investigator. I’ve been employed by some officials high in the government to do the work the police have been ruining as of late. How embarrassing, three years and they still haven’t managed to pin the murderer.”

Ah, so you had struck a nerve. He didn’t like the police, noted. 

“Tell me more.” You probed, your genuine curiosity winning over your unease. 

Namjoon appeared to gather himself, his gaze that had once been far off returning to you. “Detail such grizzly deaths to a lady? I’m afraid not.”

“Where I come from we don’t take sexism lightly, Namjoon. And, not to mention, I’m a journalist. Trust me, I can handle it.” What you said was true, as a journalist you were receiving a once in a lifetime opportunity, you were given the chance to witness the investigation of the world’s most well known cold case.  

“You’re a strange woman, unlike any other I’ve ever met before.” He said softly, an amused light in his eyes.

“You’d be surprised just how much we are capable of.” You shot back. 

“Fair enough,” He smiled, enthralled with the back and forth the two of you had engaged in. “I’ll tell you more in my study, I’ll send for a maid to help you dress.” He said before standing up and heading towards the bedroom door. 

“I’m interested to hear your thoughts.” He called over his shoulder before the door clicked shut. 

As soon as he left, you felt like you could breathe freely, a deep exhale of air passing between your lips.

So, you had slipped through time. Your thumb rested between your lips as you nervously chewed at your nail. You were coming to terms with the fact that somehow, some way, you had retreated into the year 1891. The next issue that you needed to resolve was how you were going to get back to your own timeline. You didn't belong here, that was for sure. Just from your previous conversation with Namjoon you knew that you were drastically different from anyone of this era. At this point, you were sure that was bound to get you in some sort of trouble. It was probably best to lay low around people other than Namjoon who had already been exposed to your modern ideals.

As you sat, stewing in your thoughts, a series of gentle knocks echoed from the door to the bedroom. You peeled the sheets away from your body and stilled for a moment. Somebody had changed your clothes. Where you had once worn your faded tour shirt you were now dressed in a long, flowing, silk nightgown that just brushed the tops of your toes. It was rather pretty and ridiculously comfortable but that didn't lessen your anxiety from having a new state of dress from what you had passed out in.

Another set of knocks, less gentle ones this time, spurred you to move faster. As soon as your bare feet met the plush carpet beneath you, you rushed to the door. Upon opening it, a maid stood there. She held a few items in her arms, her face obscured by the dense pile of fabric she cradled. Without saying a word you moved aside and held the door open for her. You could faintly hear her mumble out a weak thank you, muffled by what she held.

She shuffled over to the bed and dropped everything on top of the mattress with a heave that swung her small body with it.

"Alright, Miss. Are you ready?" She asked, turning to face you with a pleasant smile.

"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.

"Well, to dress you of course."

Your face flushed in embarrassment, that was something you had conveniently forgotten, people of higher status like your host did not dress themselves in this period.

"Oh, that's alright, I can manage on my own."

"Are you certain?" She asked, an apprehensive look crossing her features as she stopped laying out the clothing items, her hands halting over a corset.

Fuck.

"On second thought I would love the help." Yeah, there was no fucking way you were learning to lace that thing on your own.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would have been to dress yourself had you not appreciated the help the maid had given you. In Victorian fashion, layers were undeniable and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of how hot these women had to get in the warmer months. 

You had also assumed the corset would have been troublesome, given how you always heard about its bad rep via movies and literature. In reality, it was quite comfortable. It wasn’t overbearingly tight and you could breathe perfectly fine without a single hint of dizziness. You couldn’t help but ask the maid about this in astonishment. 

She giggled as she smoothed your dress, “Tightlacing you mean? Why, is there someone you’re trying to impress?”

Your face burned with heat at her insinuation, “No, no, I was just curious.”

“It is quite fashionable, but not very practical, no?” She said with a hint of a smile as she stepped back from you. “Well, if that’s all you’ll be needing of me the master is waiting for you in his study, would you like me to escort you? It’s not very far.”

“Oh no, I’m sure I’ve distracted you enough, if you could just point the way that’d be very much appreciated.” 

“Of course!” She chirped, guiding you into the hallway of the manor. “Just head straight down that way, it’s the door at the very end of the hall!”

“Thank you for all of your help.” You smiled gratefully before your turn and began your walk through the hallway. 

The manor was gorgeous with pane glass windows that stretched from the length of the floor to just below the ceiling that were framed with thick, velvet curtains. The floor beneath your shoes was parquet and a deep mahogany that shone proudly in the daylight that filtered into the hallway. You had not seen all of the manor but you knew, just from this glimpse, that the rest of it radiated wealth and power just like its master. 

The clicking of your shoes against the polished hardwood echoed down the length of the corridor as you approached the doors to the study. You had never been to this floor of the manor in your timeline, it had been long since roped off and only elite members were allowed access. Now, it appeared you could roam freely to your heart's content. 

Your knuckles brushed against the door, three knocks in quick succession sounding out into the quiet hallways and study. 

“Come in.” Namjoon called, his voice steady yet distracted. 

You pulled the heavy doors open and slipped into the study. Upon entering you noticed a number of things, for one the study resembled that of a library. The space was vast with bookshelves towering over you as well as everything else in the room. 

Namjoon was seated behind a desk, his fingers resting at his temples while he flipped through a set of papers placed on the surface of the table. While the rest of the manor had appeared clean, almost sterile really, this space had gone untouched by the staff. Various books laid open or bookmarked on the floors, couches, and his desk. 

Upon further inspection you noticed textbooks and medical journals strewn about, anatomy pages glaring back at you. 

“Are you a doctor, Namjoon?” You asked, lifting one of the textbooks up to get a closer look at what he had been reading. 

“A doctor?” He laughed, “I consider myself to be more of a scholar, really-”

Whatever else he had meant to say ceased, the words failing to part his lips. He was looking at you again, not unlike the way he had looked at you when you had appeared on his doorstep scantily clad and drowning in a torrent of rain. 

He made you uncomfortable. 

“Look at you, looking like a lady. You could have fooled me if I did not know any better.” He said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a sarcastic grin. 

“Such a gentleman.” You huffed with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “If you’re not a doctor then what is the point in reading things like this?”

“To catch a killer, you must think like a killer.” He hummed, tapping the tip of his forefinger against the side of his head. 

“You’ll never catch him.” You said, the words escaping you before you could even think about the repercussions they would have. 

“And why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes narrowing with a challenging look to them, the irises were dark and sent a cold chill down the length of your spine. 

“Call it intuition.” You replied, thinking quickly on your feet. “If countless others who are far more qualified and knowledgeable have failed to find him, it’s improbable one individual will bring him down.” 

You had unknowingly just challenged his intellect, if this were a dance you would have quite literally just stepped on your partner's toes. 

Namjoon stood quickly, his chair shooting back as he rounded the desk and approached you. You stumbled backwards in surprise but did not manage to dodge him as he matched your pace. His hands had settled on your waist, spinning you around to pull you back into his chest. 

His voice was soft and mellow beside your ear as he spoke, “Each victim was a prostitute, all found in the east end of town. Already there is a location and a motive, no?” 

“Now, here is what I find interesting.” He hummed, swiftly gripping your chin and pushing your head back onto his shoulder. His fingers ever so lightly brushed down the column of your throat before drawing a line across it from left to right. 

“Immediately he slits their throat, and right after? Disembowelment.” He said, his other hand that was settled on your waist migrated to your lower abdomen, his fingers caressing another line over the clothed flesh. 

“Most people, those ‘investigators’ for example, would say he hates women. But on the contrary, I think he is quite fascinated. With every murder he takes something that is uniquely theirs, would you happen to know what that is?” 

“Their womb.” You managed to say. You were trembling and you were certain that he could feel it. He was scaring you, the reality of your situation was suddenly becoming rather apparent. 

That could have been you. 

“Exactly, and to do something like that you would need some medical background, especially considering the speed and technique with which he does it.” He confirmed, his hands resting on your waist once more, this time turning you to face him. 

“So, if I were a ripper who was fascinated by women, where would I be?”

“Well...everywhere?” You replied, stepping out of his hold.

“Yes and no. We have a pattern and a motive, someone who is targeting prostitutes in the East End. My money would be on a hub for illicit activities, and with my sources I have a clue as to where he will strike next.”

That piqued your interest. “And where would that be?”

“If I know anything, it’s that the rich don’t like to follow rules and love a good party. Every now and then viscounts, dukes, and aristocrats alike will gather and dabble in illicit activities together. These parties change location every now and again, but most commonly we see them in the East End. Chances are, we can find a doctor with devious intentions at the hub of them. So, do I seem qualified to you?”

“This was your way of proving your capability to me?” You huffed, shaking your head. 

“Yes, and it appeared to work.” He smiled, leaning back against his desk with his arms spread behind him on  its surface. 

“Well, luckily for you, I’m interested.” You responded, jutting your chin out as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Interested?” He echoed.

“If you want to catch a killer, what better way is there to do so than draw him out?”

“You’re offering yourself as bait? Are you neurotic?!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side as he popped off of his desk. “Do you really think I would allow that in good conscience?” 

“I don’t need your permission to do anything, Namjoon. What I am offering is an agreement of mutual satisfaction. You get a way to bait the killer and I get the story of a lifetime.”

You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was. 

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you. 

“So, do we have a deal? You asked, extending your hand out to him. 

The silence that hung between the two of you was unsettling. His dark eyes lingered on your hand for a moment before flicking up to your face and back down. His lips were pursed in thought and you could tell he was debating with himself heavily. There was a soft ringing in your ears as the quiet stretched on. 

A sudden smile spread over his face, one that you thought almost appeared devious. He laughed to himself and then shook his head before breaching the space between you and gripping your much smaller hand in his own. He gave your hand a firm shake before tugging you forwards and pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand with a grin. 

“We have a deal.” He confirmed. 

“What a fucking flirt.” You grumbled to yourself beneath your breath, anxiously sliding your hand over the fabric of your skirt. “So, when will this party take place?”

“One week from now.” He said, raising his hand to hold up one finger. 

That was much longer than you had wanted to spend in the Victorian era. Far much longer. 

“And what will we do in the meantime?” 

“Well investigate, of course.”

~~~~~~~

Days had passed in Namjoon’s company, and for all of the investigating the three of you (Namjoon, Claude, and yourself) had done, no results were accomplished. But, on the other hand no murders had been committed in the East End. 

You were halfway through the week until the party, and despite your efforts there was absolutely nothing. You were becoming as frustrated as the inhabitants of the East End as well as your fellow investigators. Among all of your “resources,” you were caught at a dead end just as the police were. 

You had heard of Jack the Ripper in your youth, you were once an avid true crime fan. But, for the life of you, you could not remember who the next victim was and where their corpses would be found. And for all you knew, protecting that individual would only cause someone else to lose their life. Time was tricky and fickle, and if it was set in stone, it did not matter who would die so long as someone was drafted into the void. 

You assumed. 

Your host had been...strange, to put it simply. You had thought to yourself that that was just in his nature, he was easily distracted, unfocused, yet insanely intelligent. But his mannerisms were unusual. He seemed completely unfazed by the case he had been assigned to, the only moments in which he showed a visceral response were when he dealt with you, or the police force. He hated them intensely, you could only assume because of how ineptly they were handling the case itself. 

And, most frequently, you found yourself going head to head with him. And boy, did he enjoy the challenge. And, if you were bold enough to admit it, you would say he derived pleasure from the arguments the two of you would get into. He would constantly fix you with that confident smirk, the one that told you he believed he was always one step ahead of you. And fuck, did it piss you off. And he was very much aware of that. He loved a good challenge and you were far different from any of the women he knew of. 

He often wondered how far he could push you before you snapped. 

And if his cocky behavior wasn’t enough to piss you off, it was how much of a blatant flirt he was. There was nothing more frustrating than someone arguing with you while flirting with you at the same time. And your constant refusal and rebuttal to his advances only seemed to fuel the fire. 

The cover of night time became your one refuge, that was when you had an excuse to stay away from him. You could have the whole night to yourself and be free of him until the morning. 

Usually. 

Normally, you slept through the night. But for some reason your body woke you. It was either late at night or extremely early in the morning. No sunlight entered the room, it was still incredibly dark. 

At first, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. That was of course until you noticed a figure seated in the chair by your window mere feet away. You immediately jumped and began to scramble backwards out of the bed, the sheets twisting around your legs and slowing you down. 

It was the call of your name that made you freeze. 

Namjoon was sitting in your room at an ungodly hour...watching you. 

“Namjoon?” You hissed, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He answered, pressing his palms onto the armrests and pushing himself up to stand. 

“I really wish you would have.” You grunted, pulling the blanket around you even tighter. “Do you know how creepy you -”

“Two more women are dead.”

Silence. 

“What happened?” You whispered, your fingers going limp. 

“One woman was murdered late last night and the other an hour ago. It was a double event.” His tone was flat, completely absent of affect. 

The three of you could only hold him off for so long, and it looks like he lashed out as soon as he was given the chance. Two women within the span of a few hours were killed, and you couldn’t help but feel like that was your fault. 

No matter what you do, someone will die. 

“What do we do now?” You asked, sullenly looking to him from your point on the bed. 

“We have to go meet with the authorities.” He answered, distaste evident in his voice when he uttered the word ‘authorities.’ 

“Come, we don’t have much time.” He urged you, snapping the sheets back to the foot of the bed while pulling you up to your feet. 

You stumbled as he tugged you forward, your head spinning from the sudden motion. You were struggling to see, your eyes still heavy with sleep despite the dreadful news you had heard. The feeling of his hands at the back of your nightdress certainly shocked you awake. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snapped, smacking his hands away from you. 

He appeared frustrated, his eyes dark and his face set in irritation at your refusal. “I just told you, we don’t have much time. All of the maids are still asleep, it’s far too early to call one of them for help and you certainly don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“I can manage on my own, I don’t need your ‘help’.” You argued, stepping away from him in an attempt to create some distance between the two of you. “You don’t know the first thing about women’s clothes anyways.”

His jaw tensed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before releasing an annoyed sigh. “Trust me I have undone a few corsets in my time, it’s not as difficult as you make it out to be.” 

“And just as I said, I can dress myself I am not a fucking child.” 

Before you could move his arm shot forward and his hand wrapped around your forearm tightly. Despite your struggling he yanked you towards him, his other hand gripping your elbow. 

“As stupid and insufferable as you like to think I am, I know you are not from here.” He said, his voice low and dangerously quiet. “You don’t speak, act, or even walk like you are from here. The more you hide from me the harder this is going to be. You need help, now you can either be a brat and I have to force you to do as I say, or you can play along and we can get this done and get to work. It’s up to you.”

He had just told you he knew you were a time traveler without explicitly saying it. At least that was the way you took it. But the way in which he spoke to you did not seem to insinuate that he meant that you were a foreigner. Many of your interactions with him would have led him to believe you were from a different time and, not to mention, you had done a terrible job of hiding your phone from him the first day you arrived. You had done a poor job of concealing that from someone as smart as him. 

“And what if I don’t want you to see me?” You tried one last time. 

“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already seen.”

So, he was the one who had changed you the first day you had arrived in 1891. There were many red flags waving in the back of your head, and like an idiotic bull you had failed to recognize a single one of them. Some journalist you were, you had missed all of the finite details. 

“Turn around.” He finally said, his voice firm. 

And, with no other choice, you did. It was incredibly awkward on your end. Despite the attractiveness of your host, you had no desire for him to strip and dress you. Unfortunately for you, he did not care. You understood the urgency to leave and your little spat had already delayed your departure. But you were a person who valued your dignity and autonomy, you weren’t built to live in a society such as this one. 

You tried your best not to focus on the feeling of his touch, but it was incredibly hard to ignore. Instead of touching you as little as possible, it felt like he took every chance to caress, graze, and linger on every inch of bared skin. 

For a moment, all movement stilled. You were only halfway dressed, your corset exposing everything upwards of your chest leaving your collarbones, arms, shoulders, and neck on display. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of fingers smoothing over the column of your throat, not unlike the incident in Namjoon’s study. 

He was absolutely quiet as he pressed his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, softly breathing in and out as his fingers continued to stroke the skin of your throat from left to right in a gentle, slow, sawing motion. Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest in what could only be described as fear. Your back was ramrod straight, a harsh line in comparison to the relaxed form behind you. 

Why were you so afraid of him? It was like every nerve and muscle in your form was begging you to leap away and run for your life. But he wasn’t dangerous, right?

You jolted at the feeling of lips just brushing against your shoulder as he pulled away from you and finished helping you dress, far quicker than he had been before. His demeanor was suddenly resigned, professional, and cold. It was like he had suddenly mustered a sense of self control in mere seconds. 

Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?

Said man was retreating in the direction of your bedroom door, his hand grasping the doorknob as he called over his shoulder, “Meet me out front, and please be quick about it.”

That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind. 

“Namjoon? How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”

He stiffened for a moment, his hand tightening around the doorknob causing the muscle to strain and his knuckles to whiten. He said nothing, his head jerked to the side for a moment like he was gesturing in disbelief. 

He raised his head and stared at you, and then without saying anything, he left. 

~~~~~~~

You stared at the face of your pocket watch, the delicate chain wrapped around your gloved fingers. The hands of the watch were still, the familiar ticking of the watch was silent. It was like time had completely stopped. And in a way, maybe it had. 

The carriage halted to a stop spurring you to snap the watch cover closed and pin it back into place. 

Your companion quickly exited and stood outside, reaching his hand out to you to help guide you from the compartment. Despite the sudden animosity between the two of you, you placed your hand in his own and allowed him to help you down. The layered skirts of your dress swirled around your ankles, they were heavy and made it hard to climb in and out of transportation. Begrudgingly, you managed to say your thanks between gritted teeth. 

“Try to behave.” He whispered beside your ear offering his arm to you. 

You hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead the way. If you had it your way you would be fifteen feet in front of him carving your own path through the East End. But, your lack of knowledge of Victorian etiquette had already managed to get you in trouble and the last thing that you needed was more trouble. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, quickening your pace to match his long strides. 

“The previous crime scene has already been cleaned up by the task force, but the one from this morning is still intact. I have been instructed to go over their findings as well as conduct my own investigation.” He explained. 

“Alright, what can I do?” 

“What you can do is stay right here.” He instructed, bringing the two of you to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. It was already blocked off, warning the public to steer clear of the area. 

“You have to be kidding? You really expect me to wait here for you while you go and investigate? I don’t take kindly to being told to just sit and look pretty, Namjoon.” You glared. 

Namjoon titled his head back and let out a sound of annoyance, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with an exasperated sigh. “For once, will you please listen to me? This is an active investigation and I am asking you, a civilian, to stay put. I swear, I will tell you everything you need to know for your story, alright?” 

Another bitter silence passed between the two of you. He knew you were incredibly dissatisfied with what he had said. But he was just as stubborn as you were, that being the reason the two of you butted heads so often. 

He shook his head, jaw tensed with anger as he stepped away from you heading in the direction of the alley way. 

“Stay put!” He called over his shoulder, waving his hand at you as he disappeared, his form melting into the darkness of the alley that had yet to see the glow of the early morning sunrise. 

Now that, that pissed you off. You were not some dog that would obey his every command, the more he told you not to do something the more it made you want to do it. 

You waited for a few moments, for his sake and for the very fact that it would piss him off that you refused to listen. You were an impatient woman, and you would be damned if you listened to a single thing he said. 

The air was crisp and cool with the lack of sunlight, your breath fogging the space in front of you as you slunk down the dark alleyway. You could hear Namjoon’s voice echoing down the brick tunnel, he sounded enraged. There were several other voices attempting to speak over him, but they were evidently failing. 

And then there was the smell, it was horrid. The cramped space was packed full of the scent, it was indescribable. The only prominent smell that was familiar was the tangy, coppery odor of blood thick in the morning air. 

But what you hadn’t been expecting was that the body was still there, slumped against the ground haphazardly like it was nothing more than trash. An officer was still there, knelt down next to her body. He was prodding her flesh with a grimace, holding a handkerchief over his nose to block out the scent. 

“Christ, she’s still warm!” He called out, jumping up to head back to the investigators while giving you a full view of the carnage laid out before you. “He could still be close by!”

Multiple sensations bombarded you at once. A scream was caught in your throat as your stomach began to churn from the sight before you. You raised a gloved hand to cover your nose and mouth as you leaned against the wall, your knees feeling weak. 

It was bad, worse than you could have possibly imagined. 

There was blood, more blood than you had ever seen in your entire life. And whatever it was that was laying before you just barely looked human. But the parts that did look familiar was what made it so unsettling, so wrong, so horrifying. 

Namjoon was calling your name. 

You were still in shock when he grabbed you, his hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing your face into his chest blocking the grotesque view you once had. His other arm wrapped around your shoulders, cradling you closer to him. 

“Her...her face.” You stuttered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Are you that inept at your jobs that you couldn’t keep a civilian from entering a fucking crime scene?!” He yelled over your head, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. 

“I told you to stay put.” He mumbled, his lips pressed to the crown of your head while his thumb stroked the side of your face as you shook in his hold. This was the gentlest he had ever been with you. 

You had never seen anything like that before. Whatever words he had spoken were falling on deaf ears, a sharp ring was echoing throughout your head, numb tears streaking your face and ruining his jacket. 

You could feel his hands slide to the curve of your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and only him. 

“From now on, you listen to me, okay?” He said, his eyes darting over your face to make sure you were retaining what he was saying. 

You weren’t sure what was more concerning to you. The fact that he was suddenly so gentle with you, or the fact that he paid no mind to the corpse mere feet away from the two of you. 

There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon. 

~~~~~~~

Whatever investigation Namjoon had managed to conduct during your moments of shellshock provided nothing new. The choice of murder was the same, albeit the brutality was by far the worst of all the victims before. 

Her body had been warm indicating the perpetrator could still have been close by, but despite that knowledge the search parties could not find the culprit that had been described. There was no man covered in blood hiding in the shadows of the East End, he had disappeared like he had never been there in the first place. 

A few days after the murder had taken place, Namjoon had informed you the killer had made contact. His face was grim as he described what had transpired. A letter and a parcel had arrived addressed to the taskforce, inside was what appeared to be a human kidney and a letter signed with a flourish, “Jack The Ripper.”

He was playing with them. 

Your dreams were plagued with the memories of the sights you had seen that day in the early morning light of the alleyway. And instead of forcing you into submission, it made you angry. The initial sight had rendered you imobile, weak, and defenseless. You had never seen a human look like that. But with each dream you dreamt as the week melted away, you festered in guilt and rage. 

Your fellow Victorian journalists had called him a monster, but you knew better. He was not a monster, he was a coward preying on women in the veil of darkness. Cowards harmed the weak and the defenseless, he was a caricature of a monster. 

And you wanted nothing more than to rip the Halloween mask off of that faux monster. 

This thought is what lent you strength as you and Namjoon reentered the East End, prepared to once and for all unmask the killer that had escaped the two of you. 

You were dressed expensively, and rather salaciously, to blend in with the aristocrats around you. Namjoon and Claude appeared comfortable in the environment and it made you wonder if this had not been their first time attending an illicit party. Namjoon had explained to you before that he was often hired by government officials to do the jobs the police often failed to do, so it would not be unexpected if he had been there more than once. 

You were bombarded by various sights that had you sticking close to your companions. When Namjoon said “illicit” parties, he meant it. The amount of illegal activities taking place was astounding. No matter where you looked, something was going on. Various partygoers were drinking unmarked liquids, inhaling unidentified substances, or swapping large amounts of money for some unknown service (although you had an inkling as to what they may be). 

At one point in the night you had tried to locate a bathroom only for Namjoon to pull you away from the door you had attempted to open. 

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He said with an all knowing, tight lipped grin. 

“Really, and why not?” You asked, your hand resting on your cinched waist. 

“I didn’t picture you as one for...group activities.” 

“Group activities...there’s an orgy in there?!” You whisper yelled, frantically wiping your hand on your skirts with wide eyes. 

Namjoon wheezed out a laugh, guiding you away from the room and back towards the center of the pseudo ballroom. “What can I say, this is a sinner’s paradise.” 

“Sinner’s paradise, more like Chlamydia’s Palace.” You huffed, your cheeks hot. 

Namjoon laughed again only to be stopped by the presence of his butler, Claude. His hand concealed his mouth as he whispered something to Namjoon. Whatever it was he said seemed to please Namjoon while also provoking an indescribable look to wash over his handsome features.

As soon as Claude stepped back, Namjoon spoke. “I need you to stay right here, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just keep to yourself until I return.” 

Your eyebrows pinched together in irritation and confusion, “But, Namjoon -”

“Remember what happened the last time you refused to listen to me?” He snapped, raising his eyebrows in emphasis. 

You pressed your lips together, turning your head to the side. Yes, you did remember what had happened the last time you ignored his instructions. 

Namjoon sighed, propping his finger under your chin and turning your head to look at him. “Please, trust me on this one thing.”

You thought to yourself for a moment, the last time you didn’t listen it hadn’t exactly gone well for you. This was just one thing he was asking of you after all of the things he had done for you, he was asking for just one moment of cooperation. 

You lowered his hand from your chin and took a breath. “Okay, I trust you.” 

A look of pure elation erupted on his face. He gave you a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks. 

“I’ll be back.” He said before retreating into the crowd with Claude following close behind. 

And then you were alone, but not alone for nearly long enough. 

Your hands fiddled with the pocket watch your grandfather had gifted you as you walked, your head down and your gaze focused on the glass face of the watch. It was almost like everything had gone wrong after he had died and left it in your possession. 

Far too distracted from your internal thoughts and the presence of the watch, you missed the incoming form barreling towards you. Within seconds you were knocked to the floor, the layers of your skirts luckily breaking your fall. 

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry, my bad! In a rush, I’m quite late I’m afraid.” The voice rushed out, a slight wheeze accompanying it as he appeared breathless. 

You felt two hands grasp your own and carefully help you into an upright position. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You said, irritation clear in your tone. 

“No really! Forgive me, it’s my mistake.” He said.

You adjusted your dress, making sure all of the important bits were in place before finally looking up to see who exactly this man was. 

You were not expecting it to be him. Not at all. 

“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback. 

It was him, he looked years younger than when you had last seen him, but it was him. You had gone through countless scrapbooks as a child and the face that was staring back at you was the younger version of the man that had raised you. 

“What?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling as his shoulders shook. 

Your gaze zeroed in on the chain of the watch clipped to his pocket. And, without saying a word, you pulled your own watch free and showed it to him. 

All mirth completely left his body, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. His lips parted in shock and distress as his eyes traced over his own initials carved into your watch. His hand patted his own chest frantically as he pulled the watch free and held it beside your own. 

They were identical, down to every nick and scratch in the silver finish. 

“How did you get here?” He asked, his voice low and serious in a way you had never heard before. “Did they send you?” 

“Did who send me? Nobody sent me. I just woke up here, other people were living in my house and everything was gone.” You explained as he pulled you to a corner of the ballroom. 

“This isn’t right,” He mumbled, flipping open his own watch. “You’re a time anomaly, there can’t be two of us here at the same time.”

“Two of us?” You echoed. 

“Time travelers, dear, it runs in the family I’m afraid. What was I thinking about giving that to you without explaining?” He said, his words flying so quickly to the point that you were struggling to keep up. 

“Then let’s leave, show me how to get out of here! There has to be a way!”

“You can’t just leave, you’re here for a purpose, you didn’t just come here by accident.” He said as a blue glow began to steadily thrum and pulse from his watch. “Oh no.”

“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”

“I have to go, I’m being called back. Whatever you do, you cannot change anything, do you understand? Who are you staying with, what have you done?” 

“I haven’t changed anything that I know of. I’ve been staying with Kim Namjoon.”

His eyes widened as the watch began to pulse even stronger than before. “Kim Namjoon! Listen to me, you need to go, you need to get as far away as possible he -”

But before he could finish what he was saying he disappeared. It was like he had blipped out of existence, like he had never been there at all. 

You spun around in a circle, trying to see if he was truly gone. All of the party goers did not appear to be phased, it was like they hadn’t seen a single thing that occurred. How was that possible? Fuck that, how was any of this possible?

All you knew was that you were going to follow his advice and get the fuck out of there and out of the East End. 

You forced yourself through the thick crowds of people, pushing, checking, and elbowing away anyone that got in your way. You winced as one particular shove sent a whole glass of wine pouring down the cleavage and dress of one inebriated woman. It didn’t really matter though, you were sure she could afford another one with the way she had been slamming back drinks all night. 

You threw open various doors in an attempt to find a way out, each time you were met with an increasingly more disgusting or disturbing sight. You didn’t even know some of those positions were possible for fuck’s sake. 

Finally, when you threw open a door you were met with the smell of crisp, fresh air. A way out. 

It was a slim alleyway of the East End, just barely illuminated by the crescent moon that hung in the pitch black darkness of the sky. A sudden sense of paranoia washed over you, the last time you were in an alleyway it had ended poorly. But you knew you didn’t have time to think about that. 

Oh, if only you did. 

The minute your heeled feet met the ground you were greeted with that all too familiar scent. There was blood nearby and lots of it. You could hear shuffling a few yards away, and you knew that you fucked up. 

Your throat felt tight as you attempted to swallow, you were certain you could taste the blood on your tongue from how strong the smell was. And, when you finally turned to face whatever was in that alley, you were horrified. 

A few yards away you spotted three figures, two on the ground and one leaning against the wall. And beneath the three of them, a crimson river steadily flowed through the cobblestone. 

You took a step back, your heels scuffing the stone spurring only two of the figures to look up at you. A scream bubbled in your chest at what you saw. Claude was hunched over the figure of a woman, blood splattered over his face and down the leather apron he wore over his clothes. You could see bloodied tools in his grip as he settled back on his hunches, pausing his motions mid incision.

And then there was Namjoon, the once blank look he wore on his face suddenly lighting up with intrigue at the sight of you. 

“Claude? Why don’t you take the lady home.” He spoke, gesturing to the corpse. 

Claude looked between you and Namjoon for a moment, appearing conflicted. But he did not hesitate any longer as he scooped up the woman’s corpse and retreated down in the dark depths of the alley. 

Namjoon was quick as he approached you, you barely made it a few feet away before he grabbed you by your forearms and pinned you up against the wall, hushing you as panicked cries parted your painted lips. 

“I’m sorry, darling. But, I did tell you to stay put didn’t I?”

“Why?” You managed to say as you trembled in his hold, ugly sobs wracking your entire form. 

“Women only want me for one thing I’m afraid. My money. I thought that maybe I could help those women who had nothing, that they could give me love in return if they didn’t know who I was. But they were just the same, motivated by money. I would give them my love and beg them to stop selling themselves but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Every single one of them failed my little test. They were greedy, and selfish. They didn’t deserve to be women. So, I hurt them just like they hurt me.” 

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, you could only focus on the rising feeling of panic in your chest. 

“I knew someone would eventually catch on to what was happening. But how ironic was it that they assigned me to the case out of all people? Those fucking investigators are so inept they never saw it coming. And Claude, well his loyalty was extremely helpful. If you don’t want to be caught, don’t commit the crime yourself.” He whispered. 

“All I wanted was to give them my love, but each and every single one of them broke my heart. All of them except for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek that made you violently flinch. 

“You were such a little spitfire, and when you showed up to my door I thought I was going to have to kill you on sight. But you proved me wrong, you’re the only one deserving of my love.”

A blue light suddenly lit up the space between you, the glow of the watch casting sinister shadows over the ripper's face. 

Immediately he reached for the watch at the same time as you, and without much effort he wrenched the watch free from your hands and shoved you down to the ground. Your head met the stone first and on impact black spots blurred your vision.

The watch pulsed vibrantly in his hands, humming like a heartbeat. A wicked laugh shook his shoulders as he flipped the face open. 

“So this is how you did it?” He asked, swinging the watch by it’s chain recklessly. 

“Namjoon, don't’!” You cried, struggling to stand. 

But it was too late. A feral scream ripped its way out of your throat as you watched him slam the watch into the ground and violently dig the heel of his shoe into it. The glass shattered, the metal bent, and the blue glow stuttered, weakly thrumming before fizzling out and plunging the alley into darkness. 

The ripper stalked down the alley and stood over you, a viscous smile pulling at his cheeks as he slowly tilted his head to the side. 

“Don’t look so surprised my love, there is only one way I’d ever let you leave me.” 

[struggling-with-time]

Mother’s aren’t always the best [Corpse x reader]

Paring: Corpse husband x female!reader (platonic)

Summary: You’re the youngest in the group and recently moved out. When your mother decides to pay you a visit while you’re streaming.

Warnings: Angst, fighting, yelling. Big bro Corpse, kinda abusive mom

Words: 1.5k

A/N: My job just cut my hours in half, so yay. If anyone want to, I have a Ko-fi in my bio, if you buy a fic through there you get to skip the queue. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s only if you want to of course! <3 Also I’ve wanted to write this for quite a bit

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You have recently finally moved out from your home and is now able to stream on a schedule and far more often. While living at home your mother had been very against the mere thought of her daughter putting herself out there on the internet. Which meant you have had to tiptoe around when you wanted to stream. Only being able to do so when she left you home alone. The only good thing about having a single mom, was that she worked a lot. So that meant a lot of alone time.

You’ve never really gotten along with her. The two of you having very different views on life, she wanted you to grow up and be a pretty girl, you were supposed to study social science, and get a project of your own, and while doing so you were supposed to meet the guy you would eventually marry, and give her grandkids with.

However, that’s not really what you want to do with your life. Despite only being able to stream when you’re all alone and having to chuck your entire set up into the shirt drawer, knowing your mother wouldn’t go through your drawer as one of the only things. You had managed to build up a small following.

“Hey guys! Sorry for the delay, I wasn’t able to find my microphone.” You tell on stream, and to the group in the discord call.

“Are you settling in nicely Y/N?” Corpse asks, the two of you have been talking behind your mothers back for quite a while, he has become like the big brother you’ve never had.

“Yeah, I still have couple of boxes lying around…” You look around your small one-bedroom apartment. You only have your dining table, two chairs, and your bed set up. And your dining table have been converted into a streaming set up. So, there’s that too. You are lucky enough to have a small hallway, that leads to a bathroom at the end, and the kitchen on your right, and the bedroom/living room on the left.

“I take that you haven’t done any packing out yet.” Corpse chuckles.

“Hehe… Yeah… I haven’t gotten everything out, so I have ordered some takeout, that will sadly arrive here during steam, in about…” You look at the clock, “in about half an hour.”

“Then let’s get started!” Rae says, as the countdown starts.

You get through the first round of among us alive, and wining as crewmates, you’re about halfway through the second game of the day when your doorbells goes off in the middle of discussing.

“Sorry guys, I’ll just go grab my food.” You apologise, and gets up from your chair, leaving your microphone behind, thinking it’s muted.

You open your door, with your wallet in hand, and takes a step back when you realise who’s on the other side. It’s your mom. The one who you moved halfway across the country to get away from. The one who you didn’t give your address to.

She looks angry, and more than pissed off. You know she is going to start a screaming match right here. In the hallway of your new apartment complex, only 4 days into your lease.

“WHAT THE #@!$ IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” She starts off, a normal way to greet your daughter of course. “I GIVE YOU SHELTER AND FOOD ON THE TABLE FOR 18 YEARS AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!”

You take another step into your apartment, knowing if it comes to it that you must push the door in her face. She will win that fight.

“HAVEN’T I BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH?! YOU UP AND LEAVE ME, ALL ALONE! YOU DON’T GO TO THE COLLEGE I CHOSE FOR YOU! YOU GO AGAINST ALL MY RULES!”  She’s screaming right at you, you can feel yourself starting to shake. “And I know your little secret, you think you could keep it from me, huh? You think I am stupid don’t you. I know you’ve been selling your self on the internet for money.” You can feel tears are starting to come, this is what she thought you were doing.

She throws down a binder of some sorts on the ground, making you jump a little. “You’re not my daughter anymore. I refuse to have someone as disgusting as you even share my last name. Here’s everything you need from me to change it.”  

You watch as she passes your delivery guy, who looks at you awkwardly with tears streaming down your cheeks and a shocked look on your face. He puts down your order, and slowly walks away again.

You get yourself together after a few minutes, enough to close the door, and pick up the binder and food. You dump the food on your table, along with the binder. You run your hands over your face, before you pick up your headset, and try to act as chipper as ever, not having noticed you never muted your mic.

“Sorry for the long break, had to fix a smaller cable issue, but I’m all good now!” You don’t look at chat, instead you focus everything you can on keeping your energy up, and not for anyone to notice you’re not doing the best.

“Y/N are you alright?” Corpse asks, extremely worried over the fact that he just heard you get disowned by your own mother.

“Yes, of course, I’m always doing good!” Your voice shoving no hints to what everyone and their own mothers head. You watch as your phone gets a call from Corpse. “I think the next game have to wait a bit longer if everyone is cool with that?”

Everyone agrees they’re cool, nobody knows what to say after hearing what just happened. You mute your microphone properly this time. Before picking up your phone.

“Hey there.”

“We just talked Corpse, get to the point, we shouldn’t let the others wait for us for too long.” You tease him.

“We all heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Y/N I’m so sorry.” You can hear his voice crack a bit, and you can feel yourself edging a breakdown.

“It’s okay, we all knew it was coming at one point or the other.” You dryly laugh, trying to get out of the topic.

“We both know she’ll be back by next week, it’s not safe there.” He worries, you can hear him already stressing at the thought.

“I can’t exactly move. I blew everything I had by getting this place.” Your voice is slowly starting to crack and you know if you keep talking. You won’t be able to get back on stream.

“Then stay at me, I have a cough. It’s not safe there. She only yelled this time. But who knows what else she might try to pull?” You listen to Corpse, and subconsciously wrap an arm around yourself, still able to feel the bruises from when she hit you, because she found a stack of cash you had been saving up for yourself to get out. You break down sobbing.

“Y/N are you still with me?”

“Y-yes.” Your voice reaches through the phones, nearly covered by sobs.

“Can you get up for me? I need you to turn off your stream, okay? You’re not going back on there for tonight.”

You shake as you push the right button abruptly stopping the stream and leaving the discord call.

“Good.” It comes from the phone. “Let’s get you to bed.” He talks you through the tasks you have to do. Helping to distract you from the bad thing. He stays on the phone worried for you all night, until you’ve tired yourself out enough to fall asleep on the call. He wishes he could help more as he hangs up the phone. Knowing he’s the last of your support system. As the call end, it leaves you alone in the world. Now mother and fatherless.

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Chapter Three

Previous

AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is tired. She’s tired of emotional terrorists and liars and classes with a teacher who cares more about keeping the peace than teaching. She’s also just plain tired. Taking a long swig of coffee, Marinette jumps slightly as someone flounces down next to her. Wearily glancing over, she frowns at the look on her best friend’s face. Her mind runs a million miles a minute as she searches for the reason for the look on his face. The conversation on the roof with Jason flashes in her mind and she frowns, realizing why he looks so sad.

“Adrien-” She starts, but he shakes his head.

“I know, Mari. I know he’s our best suspect but...it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He says, slouching so that he can lay his head on her shoulder. Marinette sighs in response

“You’re gonna get in trouble sitting back here, kitty.” She mumbles, trying not to laugh at the absolutely adorable pout on his face that forms once she’s done talking.

“It’s worth it. I hate sitting by Lila.” He grumbles, the sad look on his face breaking Marinette’s heart.

“I-Well, maybe Mme. Bustier won’t notice.” She offers with a small smile. The smile falls almost immediately as a loud gasp rings throughout the room.

“Mme. Bustier, isn’t Adrien’s seat in the front row? Has the seating chart changed again?” Lila asks, her voice wobbly with tears. “Do I- do I have to sit by myself?” She adds. Marinette groans and drops her head onto the desk.

“Adrien? Why don’t you come back to your seat. We’re going to start class soon.” Mme. Bustier calls out.

“Sorry, guess I spoke too soon.” Marinette mumbles from her spot against the table. Adrien groans, but drags his bag down to the front row, furrowing his eyebrows as Lila immediately attaches herself to his arm. Marinette rolls her eyes, trying her hardest to pay attention to the lecture when all she wants to do is sleep. Between Ladybug duties, commissions, and homework, Marinette was lucky to get more than a couple hours of sleep each night. Add in the fact that once she could go to sleep her brain wouldn’t shut off, and Marinette was ready to petition her parents for an IV drip for her coffee. Having been completely zoned out for the entire class, Marinette jumps when the telltale sound of an akuma alarm suddenly blares throughout the room. Pulling out her phone, Marinette curses under her breath. Another element based akuma. Quickly grabbing her bag, Marinette follows the rest of the class towards the akuma shelter, silently slipping away and into the bathroom. She wastes no time in transforming, instead swinging herself out the window and to the fight.

----

Glancing down at his computer, Jason frowns. Gabriel Agreste has a kid. A kid Damian’s age, who lives in Paris. If Gabriel Agreste really was Hawkmoth, he was doing it knowing that his kid could get caught in the crossfire. Damn shitty parents. Letting out a shaky breath, Jason tries to think about things that calm him. Breathe. Can’t get pissed off here. Can’t make it harder on those kids than it already is. Deciding enough is enough when it comes to research (especially since he didn’t give Replacement specifics, just told him to look into anything sketchy with Agreste), Jason walks over and glances out the hotel window. A sudden alarm blaring through the hotel makes him sigh in frustration. It was the same alarm from last time, when he watched Paris flood and hundreds of bodies float in the streets. Climbing out onto the fire escape, Jason hurries up to the roof, scanning the horizon in hopes of seeing the akuma.

“Shit.” He says, eyes widening at the sight of flames twenty feet high. Regretting letting Bruce convince him to leave the helmet in Gotham, Jason has no choice but to watch the akuma fight from afar. Even if the two heroes hadn’t recognized him, Jason was in Paris on “official” W.E. business. Being recognized as Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son while fighting a supervillain? Probably not the best idea. He’d do more damage than help, and at least by staying away from the fight, he could help the kids later. And maybe track down the son of a bitch who decided focusing the majority of his attacks on a school was a good idea.

----

Jason grit his teeth as the lights flashed and ladybugs flew around, fixing up the city. This battle took almost three hours, and the smell of burning flesh was lingering, despite all of the corpses being reanimated. Huffing, Jason climbs back off the roof, only thinking one thing. There was no way in hell he was leaving Paris until Hawkmoth was out of commission.

----

Landing softly on the rooftop, Marinette glances over at the strange man. Jason. The man who, for some reason, was willing to train them late at night on top of a roof, just so they could fight out of the suits. Not that he understood everything that the suits could do, but that was for the best. Even though his intentions seemed genuine, Marinette had learned not to trust easily anymore. Ever since Lila came, Marinette was wearier, and more likely to ask questions before accepting someone.

“Here’s your mask, if you wanna go ahead and change and start doing some basic stretches.” Jason instructs, getting right down to business as he passes the black domino mask to her. Marinette nods and flits behind the chimney.

“Spots off.” She says quietly, grinning at Tikki.

“Is this really a good idea?” Tikki asks, her face scrunched up with worry. Marinette sighs at her friend.

“He’s gonna help us find Hawkmoth. And he has a point. What happens if I can’t transform but someone still needs my help? I don’t want to be helpless, Tikki.” Marinette says.

“Just be careful, you don’t have the suit to stop you from being too injured.” Tikki warns before flying to the top of the chimney. Marinette hesitates a second before sliding the domino mask on, blinking to get used to the eye cover. It was...weird, having a mask on that wasn’t magic. With the mask that came with her suit, Marinette couldn’t feel it. It was just there, part of her. The domino mask, though, was solid. She could feel it resting on her face. Taking a breath to steady herself, Marinette walked out from behind the chimney.

“Chat Noir’s changing over there.” Jason says when he notices her, nodding towards an air duct on the opposite side of the roof.

“Thank you, for offering to help us.” Marinette says, Jason nods, a tense smile on his face.

“No problem.” He says.

“Did you happen to look into Gabriel Agreste today?” She asks.

“Yeah, what kind of asshole decides to be an emotional terrorist in a city where his kid lives?” Jason asks, a dark look crossing his face. Marinette flinches, looking at Jason nervously. If he had the means to train them, she really didn’t want to deal with him as an akuma.

“Gabriel Agreste, apparently.” Adrien says, finally joining the two, his arms crossed. Marinette frowns at him. It was much harder to read his face with his eyes hidden.

“So did you guys want me to look more into Agreste?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks between the two. Marinette glances at Adrien, letting out a small breath when she sees his small nod.

“Yeah. Even if it’s not Gabriel, we need to know for sure.” She says. Jason nods.

“Alright. That gives me something to do tomorrow. Now, stretch and warm up. I don’t wanna have to drag your asses off this roof ‘cause you pulled something trying to jump right into things.” Jason says, a teasing grin on his face. Marinette grins back, finally feeling lighter. Maybe training would be a good thing.

----

Training was hell. Okay, maybe not hell, but it was not easy. Gasping for air, Marinette dramatically collapses on the roof.

“Aw come on Pixie, you can do better than that.” Jason teases, still standing in a sparring stance.

“Jay, I swear. We’ve been training for over a week. I’m exhausted. And you’ve already kicked my ass twice. I’m giving up.” She says, throwing her arm over her face to block out the lights from the surrounding street lamps.

“Come on Bug, don’t give up!” Adrien cheers from the side, a smirk on his face. Marinette sits up and narrows her eyes at him, despite knowing the mask wouldn’t let him see her eyes. And the level of done that was visible there.

“Why don’t you try again?” She asks in a taunting tone. Adrien snorts.

“You and I both know that I can’t beat Jason.” He says, shaking his head in amusement.

“Not with that attitude. Come on kid, let’s go.” Jason says, turning to face Adrien instead of Marinette. An idea flashes into Marinette’s head and she smirks, lunging forward and yanking Jason down as his attention is completely on Adrien. Grabbing his wrists as he falls, Marinette manages to twist him around so that his face is against the rooftop and his arms are bent behind him.

“Okay, okay, I tap out.” Jason chuckles, accepting Marinette’s hand when she jumps up and reaches out to help him up.

“I won.” She says with a wide grin.

“You totally cheated.” Jason replies with a snort.

“Nah, Kitty and I just worked together to outsmart you.” Mari says.

“Don’t drag me into this, I had no idea what was happening ‘til Jay was on the ground.” Adrien says, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Traitor.” Marinette huffs, sticking her tongue out at her best friend.

“Hey, you guys are gonna have to go home soon.” Jason says, glancing down at his watch. Marinette frowns.

“What about the Plan?” She asks. “I thought we were gonna work on that tonight so that we have an actual plan to stop Hawkmoth instead of just letting him run around and terrorize people nonstop.”

“Pixie, it’s late. I promise we’ll start with planning tomorrow. But you guys need to go get some sleep. Chat told me you’re already living off of coffee alone. That’s not healthy.” Jason says. Marinette rolls her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout.

“Coffee is my life fuel and I will not apologize.” She says, making both Chat and Jason groan.

“You’re worse than my brother.” Jason says and Mari grins.

“I’m sure we’d get along swimmingly.” She says, and Chat shakes his head.

“Nope. I draw the line at your coffee addicted butt meeting another coffee addict. I’m not about to watch that train wreck.” He says, grabbing Mari’s hand and tugging her behind the chimney so they can transform. Saying their phrases quickly, the two dart back over to Jason.

“Same time?” Marinette asks with a bright smile. Jason nods. Marinette waves, running over to the edge of the building and swinging away, waving at Adrien as he vaults towards his house. As she lands on her balcony, Marinette can't help the wide smile that stretches across her face. Maybe they could finally end this.

Next

[teamddixon]

A New Normal

Summary: Set in the future of the TWD timeline, this story follows Daryl, Y/N and her brother through their journey in the world of the undead. It wasn’t like Daryl to let people in to his heart easily, but it was Y/N’s smiles that had captured him completely, and before he knew it, there wasn’t a scenario Daryl could think of about his future that didn’t have Y/N in it.

A/N: Hi guys, this is my first time writing a fic of our TWD badass, Daryl Dixon. It’s gonna be a long one, and a work in progress. I write because it makes me happy, and I hope it’ll make you happy too. The intro for this fic would be pretty long, and Daryl wouldn’t appear until slightly later, but I thought it would be important to touch on Y/N and her brother’s background since we already know Daryl’s background pretty well. I’m not a zombie apocalypse expert, and neither dare I call myself a TWD expert (I’m not, please pardon me if I get some facts wrong!), so some parts of the story may not be realistic. It is most certainly strayed from the current universe since this is meant to be set in the projected timeline after the eventual season 11, which of course we don’t know yet how Daryl’s narrative would be changed or if it would at all, (or do we?), so this story may or may not make sense after season 11 ends (maybe think of this as a spin off?). I do hope you like it, and don’t mind the fact that it is set way in the future of the universe. As mentioned, it’s still a work in progress and I don’t know how many parts it’ll be. But writing this is extremely cathartic for me so I’ll continue writing for as long as my brain (and my full time job) allows.  Comments and feedback are welcomed and appreciated! Please sit back and enjoy this journey with Daryl. :)

Photo is not mine. All mistakes in this are mine, please pardon them. 

There aren’t many moments in Y/N’s life where she’d just sit on a spot, completely and utterly at a loss. The camp where she’d called home for the last month was gone – just like that. Along with it, the people she considered her family. When an unexpected rogue herd of walkers stumbled across the cabin, she was out on a supply run with her older brother, Andrew. By the time they had came back, the cabin was in shambles and the smell of the dead overpowered their senses. Y/N stood rooted to the ground in shock behind the bushes, throwing a look of fear at Andrew. Biting back a scream, knowing it’ll give her position away, Y/N looked around, hoping to see a familiar face. A familiar face that was alive. There was none. It was too late for them to do anything to salvage their family, their home. There were too many walkers to take on and honestly, nothing much left for salvation.

Y/N had no idea how long she was behind the bushes watching the dead feeding on mangled bodies of people she once knew. She knew she had to move, but her feet wouldn’t allow. It was as if they were locked in position, trapped in the nightmare of a scene before her. The only comfort she could gather was seeing quite a number of fallen walkers with slash marks on their heads – meaning they had put up a strong fight against them.

“Come on, we got to go.” Andrew’s voice called out, his hand grabbing hers nudging her to move. There was a catch in his voice, although he tried to hide it. Still in shock and tears, Y/N willed her legs to move. Just one foot in front of another, just one foot in front of another. She had to keep her mind focused on what was in front, and to keep her legs moving forward. Y/N followed him, almost in complete auto-pilot. 

Without actually knowing how long or how she even managed to keep in tandem with her brother’s pace with her state of mind, he had led Y/N to a spot in the woods where the two of them finally crashed on the hard grounds. Y/N was shaking violently as she buried her heads between her knees. She had no idea if she was shaking because of the nip in the air, or because of shock. A low growl shook her awake from her reverie. She looked up to see a lone walker approaching from the right. Reaching for her hunting knife from her belt holster with her shaky hands proved to be a tremendous task. Y/N finally managed to unsheathe the knife and plunged it hard into the walker’s temple right before its jaw got onto her. She had no idea she still had that strength somewhere in her.

“Are you okay?” Andrew had walked over to her just in time to plunge his machete into the head of another walker that had approached Y/N from her blind spot. “Thanks. I didn’t see it coming.” Y/N mustered her strength and stood up before kicking the walker in its head with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“I don’t, I cant –“ Y/N finally allowed herself to sob into Andrew’s shirt. While there were only a few people in the group to begin with, she have had time to know them through this shitstorm and had grown to like them like her own family. They were the people she had been moving with for years. They had lost some people in their journey, but they’d never lost all of them entirely before. To lose them all at once was devasting. But all in all, she was glad her brother was there. Andrew was fiercely protective of her, especially in this new world. She wouldn’t be alive and standing today if not for him. All her survival skills, her knife works, hunting and tracking skills, had all came from him. Y/N was not prepared for this world at all. Without Andrew, she would have become one of the walkers a long time ago. But she was a fast learner, and had more than proven her survival skills. Despite all that, she never lost her sense of hope and cheerfulness, that was until that day.

She was thankful for Andrew for giving her the time to grief while he single-handedly took down more than a dozen walkers while she was still in a daze. She felt horrible, leaving her brother to keep her alive knowing he needed his time to process everything too. Andrew didn’t say anything, he just kept her alive.

Nightfall brings another set of danger – the temperature had dipped drastically. Y/N worked with her brother to build a makeshift shelter with leaves and twigs. Andrew had also got a small fire going to provide a bit of warmth. If the walkers doesn’t get to them, the elements most certainly would. Satisfied with the perimeters, lined with makeshift cans and marbles to alert them when any walkers enter the camp, Andrew gestured for Y/N to sleep while he kept watch.

Y/N tucked herself in next to the small fire and tried to sleep. But of course sleep eluded her. Every time she had her eyes closed, all she could see was the grotesque bodies of her friends back in the cabin. She kept your eyes close despite that, hoping to catch at least a little sleep. Y/N knew she would be in no state to fight for survival without rest. Andrew sat next to the fire and finally allowed himself to process the events of the day. Most of the people in the group had been his friends since he was a child. He had grown up with them, went through triumphs and heartbreaks together. Losing them was painful. Losing them and not being able to do anything for them was painful. He looked at Y/N who had now finally fallen asleep and willed himself to stay strong. He couldn’t – he wouldn’t let the same thing happen to his sister. Y/N was his only family left.

Three hours into Y/N’s fitful sleep, she woke up in a pool of sweat despite the night cold. Before this all happened, Y/N always slept like a log. An earthquake could literally be breaking her room down and she would have no idea. But in this new normal, her body had adjusted itself to wake up within a few hours and it had learned to survive on a couple hours of sleep each night.

She saw Andrew throwing logs into the fire to keep it going. Approaching him silently, she gestured for him to sleep while she took over the watch. Nodding his head, he vacated his space before taking over hers. Y/N was on high alert, determined to keep her brother safe while he catch his much needed rest. Andrew had been there for Y/N all her life. She was only a couple of years younger so they were very close since young. This trip was supposed to be a break from work, but instead, they were thrown with an even bigger shitstorm than they could imagine. Y/N almost laughed when she thought about the irony. She would choose to go back to her office job any day over this. Before long, the cackle of the fire begin to diminish as the day broke. Y/N looked up at the skies, trying hard to fathom how this was the very same sky before the world had turned into hell. The sun still came up in the East and the morning birds still sang, but nothing else about the world right now was the same.

Gathering up all of their belongings, Y/N and Andrew set off for another day. They had to find a more permanent shelter, a sturdier shelter than twigs and leaves at least. Stopping by the creek to gather some water, Y/N took the chance to splash herself with the cold water. As the water hit her face, she perked up. Having not had a shower for days, Y/N’s skin was starting to itch and peel. Her feet was swollen with blisters and her arms were filled with dried scabs from all the cuts she sustained while running away from walkers. Y/N looked at Andrew with a longing in her eyes. She needed that shower. Convinced that the area was free of walkers, Andrew gave in and gave her privacy while Y/N washed yourself. He told her he would try to track something for their food today and set off with his bag, gesturing for Y/N to follow when she was done. A smile almost crept up Y/N’s face as she washed away days of sweat, dirt, and walker blood off her body. She hadn’t dared to take her time though. Once she was done, she quickly put on a fresher set of clothes that she had and set out to look for Andrew.

Feeling more refreshed, Y/N tried to put on a new perspective of how life was going to be moving forward. She was determined to continue living, living for the friends who couldn’t. She was going to continue living for Andrew. She didn’t want all of Andrew’s effort teaching her survival to go to waste. Y/N followed the tracks on the floor, hoping to find Andrew soon. No more than 10 minutes into following the tracks, she heard a slight ruffle of leaves to her left. It was so slight it was almost unnoticeable. It can’t have been a walker – a walker would have made a louder noise than that. It was most certainly a person. She smiled and moved towards the direction where she heard the sound from, anticipating to see Andre.

“Hey, did you managed to –“ Y/N’s whispers faltered into complete silence when a tall, crossbow donning man with striking blue eyes, greeted her. The man had his crossbow trained on Y/N’s head. She stopped in her tracks, knife in hand ready to strike.

“Who are you?” The man demanded. Not only was his crossbow trained on Y/N, his eyes were trained on her too.

“Y/N.” She spoke calmly, hand still steady on the knife. While she knew she’d be dead with his arrow before she could attack him with the knife, she weren’t about to go down without a fight if she had to. Y/N looked at the man, trying to download as much details about him as she could. He wore a long sleeves black shirt with two top buttons missing, a pair of cargo pants that were slightly ripped on some parts and his boots carried the obvious evidence of blood and someone who had been out in the open. Y/N tried not to wince as she stared directly into the man’s eyes. Although his hair covered the side of his face, she could make out his stern expression – an expression of someone who had been surviving on his own. But behind all that, she just had a sense, a strange and unspoken sense that he wasn’t a dangerous man.

“Look, I’m just looking for my brother, all right? I don’t mean to walk into your zone.” Y/N explained. “If you promise not to shoot me, I’ll just turn around and be on my way.”

Adrenaline from meeting a lone stranger in the woods had had blood rushing to her ears, muffling her surrounding sounds. As she prepared to turn and leave, the man spoke again. “Behind ya!” That was when she heard it – the unmistakable sound of a walker behind her. As a reflex, Y/N bent her body forward and side stepped, but in her haste to evade the walker, she had missed her footing. Y/N cursed under her breath but quickly regained her posture. She raised her arm, ready to strike, but before she could, the walker’s dead weight had pushed her, causing her to fall backwards on the hard ground, losing her knife in the process. Y/N quickly worked to fight the walker off but all she heard was the hustling sound of an arrow and the silenced growl from the walker. Feeling the full weight of the walker now, she pushed it off and saw that it had an arrow right smack between it’s eyes. Y/N turned to look at the man as he approached the walker. With one foot on the walker’s head, he pulled out the arrow with one swift motion with his free hand. He then turned sideways to look at Y/N.

“That was really cool.” Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Seeing that the man had made no move to point his crossbow at her again, Y/N relaxed. She spotted and dug out her knife that had been partially buried during the fall and tussle with the walker.

“That was really cool.” Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Seeing that the man had made no move to point his crossbow at her again, Y/N relaxed. She spotted and dug out her knife that had been partially buried during the fall and tussle with the walker.

“Thanks. I owe you.” Y/N gestured to the walker on the ground as she dusted herself off. “What’s your name?” She smiled.

Daryl was immediately captivated by Y/N’s smile and the sound of her chuckles. Earlier when he had heard someone approaching, he was ready to strike, ready to take them down if he had to. But as he heard Y/N’s voice for the first time, he knew immediately that she was no threat. He hadn’t seen or heard another person’s voice for days. But even if he had, there was something about Y/N’s voice and her smiles that enchanted him. Despite the situation the world was in, Daryl was comforted to see a smile that seemed to make him forget everything else.

“Daryl.”

“I’m sorry again, you know, for walking into you.”

“Sorry for ta’ crossbow on ya head.” Daryl nodded his head slightly at Y/N as apology.

“We’re even then.” Y/N smiled again. It was nice meeting someone else in this crazy world of the dead. Something about Daryl had made her feel a sense of comfort and calm, despite just meeting him a few minutes ago. Daryl looked away, feeling his face flushed from seeing her smiles. There had never been anyone who had that effect on him before. Her smiles were a huge contrast to everything he had come to know in the last ten years. He wanted nothing but to remember them.

[scarlet-star-witch]

I loveee the flashbackssss. Would you write about din and lella first time? ♾

I got you babe xx

I wrote this after a bottle of wine while listening to Lana Del Rey so I hope this is coherent. Enjoy this pure, shameless smut! xx

Pairing: Din x Iella (Female OC)

Word Count: 2513

Fade Into You Masterlist

~~

Din watched as Iella got ready for bed for the night. Each movement, though trivial, seemed to set his nerves on fire, just because it was her. 

His thoughts about her soon turned anxious as the hurdle they had yet to cross loomed over him greatly. They’d done everything else there was to do, expect for… that. 

It wasn’t a big deal to most people, but to him, with his creed and his touch-starved past, it was a big deal. He wasn’t embarrassed about his lack of experience, Iella had never once judged him or thought less of him because of it. 

But his greatest fear, the thought of not giving her the pleasure she deserved, was a prevalent thought, one that had kept him from taking the next step. But tonight… tonight he was ready for the next step. 

He wanted to be close to her, he wanted to love her and he wanted to show her just how much he cared for her. 

He’s been sheltered all his life, but with her he could be free.

He began to strip his armour off slowly, his eyes flitting over towards her frame every few seconds. 

“Are you feeling ok after today?” He asked her, wanting to make sure she was physically ok after the excruciatingly long hunt they’d just finished.

“Yeah, walked away with only a few bumps and bruises. We’ve definitely seen worse. I think Xi’an got the worst end of the deal than anyone.” 

Din rolled his eyes under his helmet at the reminder of the annoying Twi’lek. She was the last person he wanted to think of now. 

Iella walked back into the room, brushing her long hair out, the movement of her violet waves capturing his attention so captivatingly. 

“Din?”

“Huh?” He snapped out of his daze, suddenly realizing she was looking at him questioningly.

“I asked you if you were ok. You’ve been quiet all night.”

Din cleared his throat, reaching into his bag for something they had used before, but never for this. 

“I.. uh… wanted to ask you something.” He started nervously. 

Iella looked over at him, realization washing over her as she saw the blindfold in his hands. A soft smile grew as she felt heat flooding her cheeks at his insinuation. At the beginning of their relationship, he’d been so nervous, so scared to initiate anything.

She was relieved to see him finally take the leap. 

“Oh… well, you know I would never say no to a little bit of fun.” She drawled, biting her lip playfully as she sat on the bed next to him, slowly crawling towards him. 

She hoped she looked seductive and not like an idiot, like she worried.

“Well…” He cleared his throat nervously, her sultry gaze making his throat dry, making him almost unable to get any words out. “I wondered… if… maybe we could-”

“Din, are you ok?” Iella asked, interrupting his rambling.

“I want you. All of you.” He finally said straightforwardly. 

Iella’s face smoothed in realization, a shy smile growing. “You have me. You always have.” 

Din let out a loud breath, relieved by her answer, as if he worried she would refuse. Iella closed her eyes, motioning for him to place the blindfold over her eyes. 

“Are you sure it’s ok like this? I can keep my helmet on if that would make you more comfortable?”

“No, no, it’s ok.” She assured him as darkness overtook her. “I want to feel your lips on me.” 

He let out a shuddering breath at her words, squeezing his eyes shut to try and ground himself. He couldn’t lose control before it already began.

With shaking hands, he removed his helmet, his eyes taking in every inch of her before him, relieved to see her without the filter he usually saw her through. 

Sensing his nervousness, Iella reached out blindly, letting out a slight laugh when she met nothing but air. 

“Where are you?” 

Din smiled adoringly and grabbed her hands, guiding her to his bare face. Her hands rested on his cheeks, making him close his eyes at the unbelievably incredible feeling. He let out a loud exhale, trying his best to ground himself from her dizzying touch.

“There you are.” She whispered, her hands tracing his features that remained a mystery to her. 

She could practically feel his nervousness and hesitation. 

“Din, it’s ok. I want you. I want this.” She assured him.

Without wasting anymore time, he crashed his lips to hers reverently, the moan she let out causing goosebumps to erupt over his entire body. Like always, he felt a wave of calm wash over him as he kissed her. He felt like the planets were realigning, like everything was suddenly right in the galaxy.

She always had that effect on him and he hoped it would never dissipate. 

Iella gripped onto his hands, tearing the gloves off him, desperate to feel his touch, his real touch on her skin. 

One hand cradled her cheek as his eagerly made its way down the length of her body. Without any question, she helped him lift her shirt up and he quickly pulled it over her head, allowing his eyes to hungrily roam over every inch of her exposed skin. 

Her breathing increased, her heart beginning to race at his desperate touch. Their kiss became more heated, his tongue dominating hers so effortlessly as he gripped her hips tightly. Din pulled away, just for a second, to rid himself of his clothes as quickly as he could. 

His lips were back on hers in an instant, dominating and vigorous, his desperation suddenly reaching a peak. He let out a gruff moan as he kissed her so bruisingly, his hands beginning to frantically tug at the remaining clothes at her waist.

Iella could feel his body trembling against hers, she could sense his anxiety, the cause of his frantic movements, and she pulled away, placing a hand on his heaving chest.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m right here, you don’t have to rush.�� She whispered to him. 

She cursed herself slightly as he pulled away abruptly. He stared down at her, his wide eyes closing, his face twisting in anger at himself.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, shame washing over him. Iella reached out, her hands sloppily finding his with her covered vision. 

“It’s ok. Don’t be sorry.” She told him reverently. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have to-”

“No, no. I want to.” He assured her without hesitation. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted. I want to be close to you.”

Iella knew he meant more than just physically close. Being emotionally close to others was something Din struggled with and over their time together he’d become much more comfortable. She wanted to cross that final barrier with him.

She smiled softly, winding her arms over his shoulders, bringing him down to press against her body. “We’re ok. Just take it slow.” 

He nodded, despite the fact that she couldn’t see him. Taking in a few long, deep breaths. He reached out again, his hands softly grazing her thighs, slowly making their way upwards to the sleeping shorts she was wearing, the ones that left little to the imagination, the ones that drove him absolutely crazy.

“Are you sure?” He asked her again. She nodded eagerly, her hips squirming, a silent plea to remove what separated them. 

Din swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and slowly pulled off the rest of her remaining clothes. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he hovered over her, placing a soft kiss to her hip bone and slowly making his way up the length of her body. “So perfect.”

She let out soft moans with every kiss he planted on her skin, her want reaching new heights. “Din, please. I need you.” She begged breathlessly. 

Din groaned softly, the sound of her voice, pleading for him was becoming too much to handle. He reached down, beginning to thumb at her clit, her wetness, her blatant need for him swelling a pride within him he never knew existed before he met her. 

The loud moan that escaped her at his touch had his own soft groan leaving his parted lips as he watched her body writhe beneath him.

“Do you need me to-”

“No, no, I need you.” She panted, her hands trailing down the length of his chest before gently grasping his aching length. 

Din tensed, his shoulders raising, his head dropping as his face creased with the effort it took to hold back. He quickly grabbed her wrist, stopping her movements on his cock. His heart was racing in his chest, but he found no anxious thoughts, no self deprecating worries.

He only thought of her. 

“I love you.” He breathed out, placing frantic kisses along the curve of her neck before he reached her lips. She eagerly kissed him back, her arms holding tightly to his shoulders, her fingers finding their way into his hair. 

“I love you.” 

With shaking hands, he gripped his length and slowly guided himself inside her. He immediately stilled, his mouth falling open with a silent moan. He gripped the sheets below her, curling them in his fists. 

“Din?” She called out, worried as to why he stopped so suddenly. 

“I’m… I just… I need a second.” He panted, forcing his eyes that had screwed shut to open slowly. “Are you ok?” He asked, his voice tense and low.

Iella bit her lip at the sound, bliss already overtaking her body and she nodded eagerly. “I’m perfect.” 

Din’s chest heaved and he began to move his hips slowly, thrusting in and out of her carefully, fearing that he would hurt her if he went any faster. 

Iella moaned softly, her nails digging into his shoulders as he moved. He felt incredible, but she needed more. Her hips gyrated, looking for the friction she desired. 

A choked groan escaped him, her name leaving his lips in a breathless pant as he inched even deeper inside her at her movements. 

“Fuck! Stop, stop, please.” He begged, his hands anchoring themselves to her hips, forcing her to still before he lost all sense of control, which he was hanging on to by a thread. 

“You ok?”

He nodded frantically, his gaze locked onto her fervently. He gently moved a strand of hair that was hanging in front of her face. He wished he could take that blindfold off, that he could see her eyes in the throes of passion. 

He wished he didn’t need to hide himself from her. 

Din kissed her fiercely, moving past his reservations, and began to thrust into her slowly again. A loud groan sounded from him, forcing his lips off hers as she moved her legs to wrap around his waist and he found himself unable but to move even faster, his hips meeting hers at a rapid, more frantic pace.

Iella’s head fell back, her lips parting with a cry of his name. She held onto him tighter as white lights swirled in her vision as he moved with vigour. 

Breathless, desperate moans fell off his lips without any regard, her name choked out amongst what she could barely understand. 

“Please, please.” He panted.

He didn’t know what he was begging for, all he knew was he felt weightless, a soaring feeling bubbling within him he had never felt before. It overwhelmed him, it soon became too much. He gripped onto her hair tightly, his forehead leaned against hers in the most erotic keldabe kiss they’d ever shared. 

He needed something, anything, to anchor him to reality, but it was quickly becoming a failing effort.

He could no longer control the coil inside him that grew tighter and tighter, only seconds from snapping altogether.

He looked down at her, watching with hunger in his eyes as her back arched beneath him, her hands coasting down the length of his back, her nails casting a pleasurable ache that made his jaw clench as he tried his hardest to stifle the noises he seemed to have no control over.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…. oh, it’s… too much.” He panted breathlessly, slightly disbelieving what he was feeling. 

Iella could feel tingles erupt over every inch of her body, down from her head to her toes that curled in ecstasy. Din’s movements were frantic and slightly sloppy from inexperience, but it was enough to make her head spin. 

The grunts that escaped him sent shivers down her spine. The way the muscles in his back fluttered and tensed under her hands as he moved had her repressing a shiver. She wished she could see his face, she wished she could see what he looked like in pleasure. 

The slack jaw, the wide eyes, the pure bliss the covered his expression would’ve been her undoing if she could have seen. 

“Din… uh, yes, yes, please!” She breathed out blissfully. 

His eyes closed, his face turned into a grimace as he felt himself beginning to slip over the edge. He quickly moved his hand, his fingers finding her clit as he began to rub in circles, desperate to get her over the edge with him.

The build up was slow, a feeling stirring in his stomach, before he was hurdled over the cliff so quickly, it left him unable to utter any words except a shout of pure relief as he reached ecstacy. 

His body trembled, a shuddering gasp of her name escaping him as he made sure to keep the movements of hips in a desperate attempt to make sure she wasn’t left wanting.

Hearing his pleasure sent her over the edge. 

Iella clung onto him tightly, her body arching, her forehead rested on his shoulder as she became rigid in her final moments. 

Her mouth dropped open, a cry of his name echoing in the room as she reached her climax. 

The fluttering of her walls around his twitching and spent length made him whine and he wrapped his arms around her, only holding her tighter when he felt her body shaking against his. 

The only thing heard in the room was the echoing pants of the lovers wrapped in each other’s arms, refusing to let go of each other. 

After a few minutes, as they both came down from their highs, Din raised his head, looking down at her blindfolded gaze. His hand twitched, his brain telling him to rip the thing from her eyes and look into the spacy gaze of her pleasure he was so desperate to see with his own eyes, not just from behind his visor.

He cradled her cheeks and leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to her lips which didn’t last as long as they would’ve hoped due to them both being out of breath still. 

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” He whispered. 

The breathless Mando’a she whispered back sent shivers down his spine and he tightened his grip on her, suddenly feeling entirely overwhelmed by the love he felt for her. 

~~

*Hides face* Enjoy xx

[agustdakasuga]

You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 18

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

Words make you feel like you’re not enough but you know, you need to push through it all. To give you some encouragement, the mothers decide to bring you to a place that has remained hidden for years. 

Chapter warning(s): Just some mean stuff being said about the reader (gossip). Please read at your own discretion.

“Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?” Jin’s mother asked the boys. They all looked at you, who blinked in confusion. 

“What do you say?” Taehyung asked you. Were they seriously asking you for what you wanted in front of their parents? You tilted your head in confusion while the pairs of parents laughed at how whipped their sons were for their human mate. 

“We should.” You nodded. 

“Let’s have dinner at 8pm then.” Namjoon smiled and the mother all squealed in excitement as they left all of you. 

“Where are the going?” You asked. 

“Back to their homes, silly. This is actually our place. They just came to greet us when we arrived.” Jin ruffled your head and your jaw dropped slightly. This grand mansion was only inhabited by your 7 mates, who are hardly around? Along with the maids and butlers that already live here. You seriously underestimated their wealth.

“You can have your own room, if you’d like.” Namjoon patted your head with an adoring smile. 

“WHY’D YOU TELL HER THAT?!” Jungkook’s eyes widened. 

“NICE GOING, HYUNG!” Taehyung scowled. 

“I don’t usually side with the maknaes... but what the hell, Namjoon?” Yoongi glared at the leader. 

“Umm, guys?” You waved a hand in front of their faces as they all sent Namjoon dirty looks. They broke away from their internal conversation and smiled at you, praying that you don’t choose to room alone for the rest of your stay here. 

“Sorry, babes.” Jungkook smiled. 

“I was just saying that I can room alone if I’m too much of a bother to you guys. I know how having your own space and privacy is important.” You chuckled and the boys were almost screaming at you. 

“YOU’RE NO BOTHER AT ALL!” Jimin yelled. 

“U-Uh, o-okay.” You stuttered, a little surprised by their sudden outburst and volume. They smiled in triumph and Yoongi was the first to grab your hand, dragging you to his room. Without the boys knowing, he had already instructed for your bags to be placed in his room. Despite protests from the others, Yoongi slammed his door close. 

“Unfair, hyung!” You heard Hoseok shout. 

“Wow, this is very much like your other room.” You giggled when you noticed how everything was dark and monochrome like his bedroom back home. 

“We need a nap.” Yoongi placed his hands on your hips. 

“But we haven’t unpacked.” You pointed at both your luggages that sat in the corner neatly. Yoongi waved them off with a lazy yawn and pulled you onto his bed gently. 

“Sleep.” Yoongi hugged you. 

“At least let me shower. The car ride made me sweaty.” You giggled. 

“Ugh, fine. You and your needs.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. You slapped his arm as you picked up a towel and some clothes to go shower. Just to be nice, you took a quick shower, knowing Yoongi wanted to cuddle with you. You showered and blow dried your hair. 

“Are you done?” Yoongi drowned out, knocking on the door. 

“I’m done, Yoongs.” You opened the door. Once again, he grabbed you by the waist and almost threw you onto the bed, making you squeal in surprise at his sudden strength. 

“Nap. Now.” He demanded, sliding his arm under your head and pulling you close. You chuckled as you felt him nuzzle his face in your hair. With his warmth and scent, you were able to fall asleep again. Yoongi opened his eyes and watched you sleep for a few minutes. A small smile appeared on his lips as he  fawned over how innocent you looked. 

“I love you.” He whispered, giving you a gentle peck on the cheek. 

When you woke up, you were alone in Yoongi’s room. You sat up and noticed a note placed on the nightstand. 

‘Sorry you had to wake up alone, love. There were some stuff that needed to be settled. The boys and I prepared a little something for you in my closet. You can’t miss it. - Yoongs’

Standing up, you headed over to the walk in and saw a brown clothing protector hanging right in the middle. He was right, you couldn’t miss it. 

“What is this?” You thought out loud as you unzipped it. It was a beautiful, flowy baby pink dress. Your fingers ran against the satin skirt as your heart warmed at the fact that your boys picked this dress out for you. You closed the closet door and changed. 

“(y/n).” Yoongi was back in the room as you stepped out. He turned around to see you in your dress. 

“Is it okay?” You asked nervously. 

“Forgive me, jagi. You just look so beautiful, I’m speechless.” He stepped closer to you, putting his arms around your waist. You giggled, cheeks turning red with embarrassment from his compliments. 

“Don’t be shy. You’re absolutely stunning.” Yoongi kissed your nose. 

“Stop.” You whined, making him chuckle. Yoongi stepped into his closet to change as you did your make up. 

“Hyung! Did you see my- woah.” Jungkook froze in his tracks when he saw you. You smiled at his appearance and stood up from the chair you were sitting on to do your make up. 

“You’re so pretty!” Jungkook shot his signature bunny smile. 

“You look good too, Koo.” You complimented with a light smile. He wasn’t dressed in a full suit but smart casual with dress pants and a button up shirt. His usual messy, long hair was combed back and styled nicely. Jungkook hugged your waist, spinning your around. You shrieked in laughter, making a panicked Yoongi come out. 

“You scared me! Be careful not the ruin her dress.” Yoongi scolded the maknae. 

“I was looking for cufflinks but ran into a goddess.” Jungkook sent you a teasing smile. Your cheeks flared up once again as you slapped his arm while he snickered. 

“Stop it. I can’t handle all this cheesiness.” You put your hands over your burning cheeks in a lame attempt to hide them. 

“You’re just beautiful, babes.” Jungkook kissed your temple. 

“Here.” Yoongi gave Jungkook some cufflinks and the maknae gave you another peck before leaving. Yoongi rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He held your hand and led you out. Judging by how you were dressed and how the boys were dressed, maybe this was more than a casual family dinner. 

“How fancy is the dinner?” You whispered. 

“Don’t worry. It’s just an image thing. You know, it’s been a while since we’ve been back so naturally, people may want to meet us.” Yoongi explained. 

“I see. What do I have to do?” 

“Relax, jagi. Just be yourself. You’re the princes’ mate and your personality already shines so bright. People will naturally fall in love with you.” Yoongi reassured, making your heart flutter. 

“Wow, Kookie was not kidding.” You greeted the other boys. 

“Told ya!” Jungkook smiled. 

“We did a good job picking the dress out.” Jin commented and Hoseok nodded in agreement. It seemed like a funny mental image of 7 boys shopping and picking out a woman’s dress. Someone wrapped an arm around you and you looked up to meet eyes with Namjoon. He smiled softly at you, his dimple popping through. 

“My mate is so beautiful.” He squeezed your waist lightly. 

“Thank you. You all look good as well.” You smiled at them. Namjoon held his arm out and you grasped it. Taehyung came to take your other arm as they led you to the big dining room. 

“(y/n)! Oh my, you’re gorgeous!” The mothers stole you away, showering you in hugs and compliments while the sons scowled. 

“Thank you. The boys picked this dress out.” You gestured to the boys. 

“Is that so? I guess that proves that they do have taste. And that reassures us that they do know how to care for their mate.” Yoongi’s mother giggled, stroking your head softly. 

“The boys do take very good care of me.” You smiled. 

“They better!” Jimin’s mother said. The boys, knowing that their mothers wouldn’t let you go so soon, went to greet their fathers, as well as some guests that their parents invited. It was more like an intimate get together rather than the family reunion dinner that you imagined. 

“We heard about what happened back at your home. We’re sorry to hear that.” Jin’s mother rubbed your hands. 

“It’s okay. Things happen for a reason, I guess.” You forced a smile. 

“She’s so strong and optimistic.” The mother softened. They led you away to sit down so they could chat with you more and learn more about you without their pesky sons. 

“Mothers, can we have our mate back please?” Yoongi stepped in to rescue you. Hoseok held his hand out to you to pull you up. 

“Oh, party poopers.” The mothers shook their heads. You giggled and gave them a quick wave before you were whisked away by your 7 mates, who have been wanting your attention for the entire night. Jin held a plate for you as you strolled along the buffet table. Well, it ended up with him mostly piling foods he wanted you to try. 

“That’s too much, Jinnie!” You laughed. 

“We’ll share.” He chuckled. You sat down with them to eat. Even as you ate, people came to greet you. You made sure to carry yourself well and not make yourself look lower despite being a human. 

“I love this fierce side of you.” Taehyung whispered. 

“It’s not fierce.” You replied. 

“Whatever it is, I like it.” Taehyung leaned forward to give you a quick peck on the lips. 

“I’m going to the washroom.” You stood up and excused yourself. You entered the stall and did your business. But as you were leaving, you heard some voices outside, by the sinks. 

“Did you see the princes’ supposed mate? That human?” A voice said.

“Absolutely shameful. They are the princes. They are supposed to be leading the werewolves against the humans, who want to hunt us. And yet, their mate is a human? That’s absolutely ridiculous. Humans shouldn’t even be allowed to enter here.” Another replied. 

“She’s probably some pity case. There’s no way she is the princes’ mate. They must have been blinded by something.” The first voice continued.

“Whatever it is. Even if she is really their mate, there is no way some small, defenceless human from nowhere is getting my respect. She is not welcomed here, in our pack.” The second voice scoffed.

“The princes obviously deserve someone better. Their mate is supposed to make them stronger. Not weaker. ” The two girls left. 

Your hand fell from the stall handle as you sat back on the closed lid. Whatever they said, was right. How could you, a measly human, be a mate to the 7 princes of one of the strongest werewolf packs ever? You must be delusional to think that you could ever match up to them. Mates were supposed to strengthen one another. 

“Where is she?” Jimin asked when he noticed that you weren’t back from the washroom yet. 

“We should go check on her.” Hoseok stood up but some girls blocked his way. They were the daughters of the wealthier, more influential families of the pack that just so happen to be friends with their parents. 

“Care to dance?” They asked the boys. 

“Something is wrong.” Yoongi murmured, a weird feeling in his chest. Before they could move away, their phones simultaneously buzzed. 

‘Wasn’t feeling well so I’m heading back upstairs. Don’t worry about me. Enjoy your dinner. - (y/n)’

The boys all looked at each other, something was obviously wrong. Not even paying attention to those girls, the boys went to find their parents to excuse themselves from the party to look for you. Of course, the boys’ mothers were concerned of your sudden illness as well. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll check on her and call a physician if we need to.” Namjoon assured and they left. 

In fact, you hadn’t even gone upstairs. Shoes in your hand, you walked along the big garden in the backyard of the mansion. The smell of fresh cut grass and all the flowers filled your senses. 

“It’s so beautiful.” You held one of the flowers in your hands. The night air was cool with an occasional breeze but it was very quiet. 

“Their mate is supposed to make them stronger. Not weaker.”

You sighed as you found a random stone bench and sat down. Usually, you didn’t get affected by people’s words. Having been bullied, you were always one to ignore them and push on but with everything going on recently, you were just feeling more vulnerable than usual. Sighing, you looked up at all the stars in the sky and the bright moon. 

“(y/n)!” Someone called you and you turned your head to see your 7 mates rushing to you. They all had worried looks on their face. Once again, you were reminded of just how weak you made them. 

“We looked for you upstairs but you weren’t there.” Jin panted. You remained silent, standing up from your seat. 

“Sorry.” 

“We were so worried.” Jungkook reached out to hug you but your arms just stayed by your side. Feeling you just stay stiff as a board, he pulled away with hurt in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Your eyes shifted. The boys were always the first to call you out on a lie but they knew that something was seriously bothering you and didn’t want to push you further. You didn’t even need to say anything, they could feel all the emotions you were feeling. 

“I’m just tired. Sorry to worry you.” You forced your best smile. 

“Let’s get you to bed then.” Jimin said softly, holding his hand out to you. You stared at it for two seconds and they all sensed your hesitation but you slipped your hand into his, letting him lead you away. 

“I’ll go wash up.” With a set of clothes in your hands, you disappeared into Jimin’s bathroom. The wolves felt that if anyone could comfort you best, it would be him. 

“Done.” You came out. Jimin went in after you to take a shower. You stood in the small balcony attached to his room. 

“What did they say?” 

“They told me that I’ll never be good enough. That I will never have friends. I don’t want to be alone, grandpa.” You sniffled and your grandfather wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. Even with your smaller arms, you tried to hug his larger frame. You buried your face into his chest as he stroked the back of your head. 

“They don’t know you. Why are you letting them tell you that you aren’t good enough? Maybe they don’t want to be your friends now but you never know what’s going to happen in the future.” He comforted. 

“Do you think I’m enough?” You looked up at him. 

“If I didn’t think you were good enough, would you be sitting here in my lap? You’re all I need, darling.” He cooed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Really?” 

“Trust me, princess. You’ll never have to walk alone.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Soft hands cupping your cheeks pulled you out of your flashback. Your eyes met with Jimin’s ones, filled with warmth and concern. Jimin didn’t say a word, just gently wiping the one tear that fell from your eyes. He pulled your head to hold you against his chest. 

“What’s wrong, my angel?” He whispered.

“Grandpa.” You repeated over and over again. 

-

You woke up early the next morning, slipping out of Jimin’s grasp. You brushed your teeth and stared at your exhausted expression. Sighing, you changed out of your sleepwear and padded downstairs. 

“(y/n)! You’re up early. Are you feeling better?” Hoseok’s mother greeted you. 

“Yes. I’m sorry for leaving the party like that. It was very unprofessional of me.” You gave a deep bow. 

“Oh, sweetie. Don’t worry, it’s just a dinner. We actually came early to have breakfast with all of you and check on you as well. We know that it can be intimidating and overwhelming with everything.” Jungkook’s mother gave you a tight hug. You melted in her embrace, your shaky hands wrapping themselves around her. 

“You’re so cute.” Yoongi’s mother cooed. 

“Sorry, I have never felt what a mother’s hug felt like before.” You blushed, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Stop apologising! And we’ll give you all the hugs you want. You don’t even have to ask.” Taehyung’s mother patted your shoulder. You sat down with them as the butlers and maid served breakfast. 

“We actually have somewhere to bring you later.” Jimin’s mother winked at you, making you blink. 

“Right, we do! But let’s eat breakfast first.” Jin’s mother giggled and you gave a small smile, picking up your fork to dig into your breakfast. The boys all remained asleep, not knowing that you were spending some time with their mothers, who easily provided comfort. 

“Let’s go. Tell the boys we brought their mate out.” Namjoon’s mother told the butler, who bowed respectfully. You wore your shoes and left with them. It only took a short car journey.

“We’re here.” The chauffeur opened the door for you to step out. 

“Where are we?” You asked them. 

“You’ll see.” Taehyung’s mother placed her hands on your shoulders and led you towards the house. It was a small house with two floors but it seems like there were no inhabitants. Why did they bring you here? 

“I have the keys.” Namjoon’s mother opened the door for you. You stepped inside and looked around. 

“What...?” Your eyes found a particular photo that hung on the wall. Your eyes widened as you stepped closer and inspected the photo. Reaching up, you took the framed photo off the wall. It was the exact same photo that once sat on your nightstand back at home. Looking at the photo, you looked back at the 7 mothers. 

“W-Why is my photo here?” 

“This is your grandfather’s home.” Yoongi’s mother spoke softly. 

“He kept his home, even after leaving with you for so many years. He was planning to bring you here, one day. Or in case he ever needed a second place to go to.” Hoseok’s mother explained. 

“The boys do not know of this. Your grandfather wanted to keep it a secret so he only told us.” Jin’s mother said. 

“Go on. Look around.” Jungkook’s mother encouraged. You headed upstairs to see just two bedrooms. Heading into one, you knew that your grandfather prepared this room for you. Some items were exact replicas of what you had in your previous room. 

“He would always let me wear his jacket. I thought it was missing.” You stood in what you assumed would have been his room, holding the dark green jacket that hung by his closet. 

“When you said trust in your plans, this is what you meant, huh?” You fell back onto his bed. 

“I’m ready to go.” You came back down. 

“Here, take this. So you can come back whenever you’d like.” Namjoon’s mother handed you the keys to the house. You held it tightly in your palm. 

“Thank you.” You hugged her.

“(y/n), I may not be your grandfather but we know that he would be so proud of you. What you have accomplished, where you are now. You’re so strong and optimistic, you have made our boys so happy. Just seeing how genuine their smiles are when they are around you tells us that you really are meant to be. Your grandfather would be so happy.” Yoongi’s mother stroked your head. 

“Really?” 

“Of course. The moon goddess chose you for a reason, she wouldn’t choose you if she didn’t think you couldn’t do it.” Jimin’s mother giggled. 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re human or werewolf, you complete them and nobody, nothing, will take that away from you.” Taehyung’s mother tapped your nose lightly. 

~~

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[lavendersb]

Our Ultimatum

Chapter 1: Charity 

Boba Fett x Reader

Summary: Finding yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place, you take a gamble and seek the mercy of the new ruler of Tatooine.

Warnings: Spoilers for S2 Ep8 (It’s set some time after the end credit scene), implied age gap, Boba flirting the entire time, mentions of slavery, gratuitous use of the phrase ‘little one’

This is just an excuse for me to be h*rny over king boba i’m so sorry, the smut will probably be in the next chapter! 

Things couldn’t get much worse.

Life had never been easy on Tatooine. With the harsh weather, the hellish wildlife, and the abundance of seedy criminals there wasn’t too much to celebrate on the planet that you had grown up on. You’d always been conscious of the risk of poverty, on this desert world it seemed almost everyone was working off their last credits and thankfully you’d always managed to make yours stretch.

That was until a few cycles, ago when things had taken a turn for the worst.

You see, though the rebellion had brought with it many prosperous outcomes, like the end of the Empire and a half-decent attempt at eradicating slavery, it had also caused a few problems. Tatooine, being the hub of criminal activity that it was had faced a rather thorough clean-up, and the New Republic had pretty much scared away the local bounty hunters guild, taking with it most of the planets custom. Since then raiders seemed to pillage every town on a near weekly basis, leaving you and many others penniless and desperate.

You’d just managed to scrape by, but since losing your job and being evicted from your sorry excuse for a home you’d been faced with a tough decision. One that had lead you on this perilous trek through the desert.

With just the clothes on your back and a small satchel of your few personal belongings, you were headed to Jabba’s Palace, or at least the palace that had once belonged to Jabba the Hutt. Since the death of the Huttese criminal overlord, the Palace had changed hands many times, most recently into the possession of a notorious bounty hunter with a growing monopoly on the criminal underworld. You didn’t know much about this new leader, other than the fact he ran a tight ship, but sadly he might be your only hope.

You’d heard stories of destitute citizens like yourself travelling the Dune Sea to offer their services to the Hutts, a life of slavery in exchange for a roof overhead and a meal every-day. Much more than what most could expect living free. You could only hope that this new leader would be open to the same sort of offers. You’d never thought you’d end up in this situation, but the universe works in mysterious ways.

The palace was a great, monstrous thing towering high above the rocks and dunes surrounding it. You’d once heard it had as many floors underground as it did above, even containing its own exotic animal menagerie. Perhaps you’d soon find out for yourself if that were true.

“What business do you have here?” an armoured guard called out as you approached the doorway to the palace’s main tower.

Adjusting your grip on your satchel, you try to regulate your breathing.

“I’ve come to see Boba Fett,” you announce in what you hope is a determined tone.

The guard seems unconvinced, turning to his partner and laughing beneath his leather helmet. Suddenly you feel very small, and painfully aware of how pitiful you must look right now.

“He’s a busy man,” The guard says, turning back to you “He doesn’t have time to talk to kids like you”

“If I had any other choice, I wouldn’t be here. I’ve come here to offer my services” You snap back, angered by his patronising tone.

The guard bristles, incensed by your little outburst. He shifts his weight and raises his blaster slightly, just enough for you to feel the threat there, but before he can respond his partner interjects.

“Look, sweetheart, this isn’t the place for you. Go back to town and don’t worry yourself with what goes on in here. It’s grizzly business.”

He’s right. You can feel how out of place you are, but right now that just isn’t an option for you. The only thing waiting for you back in Mos Eisley is an empty stomach, your only shot at a future is behind those big metal doors.

Slowly you reach for your pocket, bringing out your last fistful of credits and holding them out in front of you. It’s laughable really, barely enough to buy a bottle of Spotchka and yet it’s all you’ve got to bribe your way in.

“This is all I have left. You can have it if you let me inside”

The guards stare at the pile of credits for a moment, before the first one reaches forward and takes the whole lot.

“Fine. If you’re so sure it’s what you want” he snaps, motioning for his other (and arguably nicer) partner to let you in.  

The guard opens a small door behind him, ushering you through ahead of him. You try to ignore the look of pity he gives you as you step past him.

You emerge into a large, cavernous hall dimly lit with warm lights that hang suspended from wires of various lengths from the ceiling. Distantly you can hear the sound of many people talking and laughing, perhaps some music too. In the centre of the room, a wide descending staircase leads to the lower levels, curving off to the left and into the darkness. It sounds like that’s where all the noise is coming from.

The guard nudges your shoulder softly, gesturing towards the stairs.

You descend into what might be the busiest, loudest room you’ve ever been in. Filled with all sorts of species conversing loudly in groups all over the room, underscored by music that emanates from somewhere you can’t see. It’s dimly lit with a low ceiling that makes it feel like the room is about to collapse in on you, and the gravity of your situation slowly starts to dawn on you.

The guards were right, this Boba Fett really is busy, and you know you don’t belong here.

“He’s up there. Say what you need to say and try not to get me into trouble” the guard says, before stepping back against the wall and out of sight.

You look to where he had pointed, and instantly your blood runs cold. At the back of the room, sat on a raised dais and surrounded by the fiercest looking soldiers you’ve ever seen is the man you’ve come here for. He sits sprawled across a large stone chair- no, throne in his green Mandalorian armour that seems almost black in the low light. He has his face turned towards a woman beside him, her dark hair plaited tightly on her head as she nods along to what he says.

As though she has felt your stare she looks up. Saying something you can’t quite make out, she refocuses the armoured mans attention to you, and now, even from the other side of the room you burn something fierce under their combined gaze.

Boba Fett readjusts himself on the throne, spreading his legs just a fraction wider in a way that is both devastatingly inviting and frighteningly dangerous. He tilts his head, and you take this as your cue to step forward, weaving through the crowd until you reach the space before the dais.

“Are you lost, little one?”

Oh dear.

His voice rings out clear despite the noise around you. His pitch is low and measured, and pierces right into you. For a moment he’s rendered you useless, until you remember he asked you a question.

“No,” you respond in a voice you hope is as clear as his.

He huffs out an amused laugh and tilts his helmet. A few of the soldiers that surround him have turned their attention to your conversation as well.

“Forgive me. It’s not very often I get to see pretty things like you down here. As you can see I move in very specific circles” He gestures with his fingers, and you follow where he points.

Not that you needed to. You’ve been well aware from the minute you set foot down here that you don’t blend in with the numerous bounty hunters and criminals that fill the palace.

“But it seems you’ve come here with a purpose. What can I help you with?” Boba says, leaning forward slightly.

Right, you’ve practiced this. You had plenty of time whilst walking the desert to plan what you were going to say, and now as you face Boba Fett in all his imposing majesty, you’re infinitely glad you did. You probably couldn’t voice an original thought right now even if you tried, not with the nerves coursing through you under Boba’s unwavering gaze. You take a slight breath, ready to begin your well-rehearsed spiel.

“I have nothing. No money, no food. I’ve heard the stories about the people who came here looking to work in exchange for shelter- “

“You mean the slaves?” The dark-haired woman interrupts, throwing you off your rhythm and forcing the words to die on your tongue.

“Well… yes” you say, barely above a whisper.

“How dare you?” Hisses a zabrak bounty hunter that’s been lurking beside the throne “comparing our actions to that of the Hutts?”

The zabrak jumps down from the raised stone plinth, stalking towards you and causing you to shrink away. You’ve barely opened your mouth and already you’ve managed to ruin things. Honestly, you wish the ground would swallow you up.

“That’s enough, I’ve taken no offence” Boba warns, and the zabrak eases off slightly “but you should know we don’t do that here. Strangely enough there is some semblance of morality among us”

“I’m sorry” you offer lamely, hoping to repair some of the damage done in this conversation.

Boba studies you from beneath his visor for a moment, before offering out his hand to you.

“Come here” he asks, and not wanting to cause any more offence, you comply

Tentatively you step forward, eyeing the leering zabrak cautiously before taking Boba’s hand. Your hand fits neatly into the leather of his gloved palm, and he easily helps you up onto the dais to stand directly before him. Boba inspects your face again.

“You look tired, little one. Did you walk across the Dune Sea?” You faintly notice he hasn’t released your hand yet, still clasping it gently in his. You nod, not trusting your words just yet. Boba makes a quiet sound of sympathy that makes your heart flutter, much to your horror.

“And where did you walk from? Where’s home to you?”

His voice has dropped so it’s barely a whisper, a conversation just for the two of you alone.

“I don’t have a home.”

Boba doesn’t respond right away, instead reaching up to thumb the threadbare and sandy material of your tunic. He does so for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts before snapping his head up to face you.

“You must be tired. Follow my friend here, she’ll take you somewhere you can rest,” Boba points to the dark-haired woman beside him “Her name is Fennec.”

Shocked by his response, you can only babble out a strangled little “thank you” before Fennec promptly takes you by the arm and starts leading you away. As she ushers you into the crowd again, you turn one last time to meet Boba’s visor. He gives you a nod before you disappear into a hallway.

“I’ll admit you’ve got courage coming all the way here” Fennec says as she leads you along “most people choose come by speeder, the Dune Sea is a dangerous place”

“Well, I didn’t have many other options” you say, taking in the hallways you pass through, trying to commit them to memory.

“So it seems,” she responds, before turning to face you.

“You know if you really want to work for us we could probably sort something out. We can try and find you a job that’s safe and out of the way”

You’ve stopped outside a door, and the woman quickly presses a few buttons on the keypad to open it. Inside you catch a glimpse of a room, its fairly plain but still much nicer than anything you’ve ever had before. The bed looks divine, and you can’t wait to burrow under the covers and rest.

“I’d like that” you respond with a grateful smile; glad your little insult earlier hadn’t ruined all your chances here.

“I’ll see what I can do. There’s a refresher in there. You should wash, and I’ll find you something clean to wear. Rest as long as you need.”

Thanking Fennec you head inside, dropping your bag at the foot of the bed and reaching out to feel the sheets. They’re soft to the touch, but the sand that coats your body in a fine layer falls onto it, ruining the silky texture. Stepping back you begin to strip from your clothes, unwinding the binding that seals the cuffs of your sleeves and trousers. They’re supposed to keep the sand from getting under your clothes and irritating your skin, but in their threadbare condition the bindings haven’t done their job. When you shake out your trousers, half of the Dune Sea seems to fall out of them.

The shower amazes you. It’s a decent size with strong water pressure and it takes you a few moments to figure out how to change the temperature. You take your time under the water, enjoying how relaxing it is compared to the sonic showers you had used your whole life. When you’re sure you’ve washed away all the sand on your body, you wrap yourself in one of the soft towels and pad back to the main bedroom.

Someone had left a set of new clothes for you on the bed, a simple grey tunic and loose-fitting trousers, socks, underwear, and over by the door a soft looking pair of shoes. As you change you vaguely register your growing hunger but thinking of the soft sheets and just how tired you are, you decide that’s something you’ll fix after your nap.

As you lie under the covers in silence, you can just about make out the distant sound of chatter from the throne room. If you concentrate hard enough, you think you can hear Boba, his voice cutting through the noise as he calls out words you can’t make out.

It’s plaguing your thoughts. The kindness he showed you and the feel of his hand holding yours. The way his gaze pierced you even from behind his dark visor. This bounty hunter king was not at all what you expected him to be, but funnily enough you weren’t too mad about that.

  You wake to a series of short knocks to the door.

“Hello?” you call out blearily, trying to regain your senses as you switch on the bedside lamp.

The door slides open to reveal Fennec. She steps inside, leaving the guard she brought with her in the hall and smiles at your groggy state.

“Seems you slept well” she quips.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, reaching up self-consciously to fix your hair.

“Boba wants to talk. Get yourself ready and follow the guard, he’ll take you to him” Fennec says.

The prospect of speaking to Boba again sent your mind into a frenzy. Your brief conversation earlier had left you dumbstruck, his measured tone and focused interest in you effecting your brain in an almost embarrassing way. How were you supposed to pull yourself through an entire discussion with him?

Fennec leaves you to get ready. You do your best to calm your hair, splash some water on your face, and slip on your new shoes, and as the guard leads you through the palace hallways, you work on trying to steady your nerves.

The room you’re led to is empty. It has the same stone walls and floors as the rest of the palace, and windows in the ceiling illuminate the sizeable stone table that sits at its centre. The table is set for one, with a decent amount of food and a large bottle of spotchka. You’re quickly reminded of your hunger but don’t dare take even the smallest piece of food without permission.

“You gonna eat that food or just stare at it little one?”

Boba’s voice makes you jump. Spinning around you see him standing in the doorway, hands resting on his belt as he watches you. You can’t quite manage to make your mouth work, and in the absence of a response Boba steps forward, walking past you to take a seat at the table.

“Come on then.” He points to the chair in front of the plate of food.

He doesn’t need to offer again. Even if Boba has rendered your brain useless, your stomach is still fully aware of its need for food, and you waste no time getting stuck into the meal offered to you. Boba chuckles softly at the speed at which you eat.

“Spotchka?” He lifts the bottle of glowing blue liquid.

With your mouth full, you shake your head. Boba nods and pours himself a glass instead.

You’re so preoccupied with your food that you nearly miss when the bounty hunter lowers his head and removes his helmet to drink. Suddenly your food is a lot less interesting, now your undivided attention belongs to the face of the man opposite you.

He’s older than you, that was no surprise, and handsome too in a hardened, grizzly way. The scars, however, that wrap around his handsome face have certainly piqued your interest. Of course it makes sense for a bounty hunter to have a few scars, but scars of that severity must have a particular story behind them.

“I’m not the nicest to look at, am I?” Boba quips without looking up at you. His tone is light, thankfully not offended by your staring.

“No!” You say, before you can stop yourself “Wait no…I mean… I think you’re very nice to look at”

Wow, how eloquent.

Boba seems to find your flustered state very amusing, laughing lowly as he looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“Well thank you, and I’ll be sure to thank the sarlacc for not maiming all of my face”

A sarlacc? Well that certainly explains the scarring, but how could anyone survive a sarlacc pit? It seems that the more you learn about this bounty hunter king, the more questions you’re faced with. Your face must give away your thoughts, as just when you open your mouth to question him he pipes up again.

“You’re an open book little one, I’ll tell you about it some other time. Now though, I want to talk about you” He says, placing down his spotchka.

You tell him nearly all of your life story, from your name to your rather precarious financial situation and Boba listens diligently despite your babbling. By the time you’ve finished explaining to him the decision you had made to come to the palace, Boba has sat back in his chair, studying you.

“I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality so far, its far more than I deserve after the way I spoke to you earlier,” You conclude, but Boba wave his hand in dismissal.

“It’s hardly an issue, your courage and honesty endeared me to you” he says, “but I want to do one thing more for you,”

“Yes?” you prompt softly.

“I’m going to take you up on your offer. I’ll give you work, and you can stay here at the palace, but I will be paying you a salary.” He lets the offer hang in the air. You’re too shocked to respond, this is much more than you thought you’d be given.

“You’d be free to leave our employment at any time, and you can stay in the palace for as little or as long as you want. I want you to understand you won’t be a slave here, you’ll always have your own autonomy,” He elaborates.

This is certainly not what you expected from such a hardened figure. It seemed almost comical for the leader of the criminal underworld to be offering you, a nobody, this level of charity. It baffled you.

“I- thank you,” you respond, mouth numb with shock and unable to fully articulate yourself.

Boba downs the last of his spotchka before fixing his helmet and rising.

“You’re very welcome. Finish your food, little one. We’ll find you some work in the morning.” Boba turns to exit, leaving you alone at the table with your mind running a mile a minute to process your new situation. Jumping up from your chair, you go to stop him before he leaves.

“Wait,” you say, reaching out to grab his arm. He turns back to face you quickly, and for a moment you worry that you’ve overstepped a boundary by laying hands on him. When the scolding you’re anticipating doesn’t come, you continue.

“I don’t understand, why help me like this?”

Boba cocks his head.

“Why would I not?” He says simply.

“You could have just accepted my original proposition or sent me away.”

“Do you want me to send you away?” Boba quips. Leaning towards you, you can almost hear his teasing grin behind his visor.

“No,” you respond.

“Must a man always have a reason for his ways?” He reaches out to smooth the collar of your tunic, letting his fingers skim across your collar bone.

For some reason you’re not entirely convinced by his answer, but the feeling of his touch does a remarkable job at diverting your attention. His fingers follow the tunic’s neckline, stopping when he reaches the lowest point of the shallow v neck. He lingers there for a second before raising his hand to tap your chin with the back of his curled forefinger and let out an amused little huff at your dumbstruck expression.

“I’ll see you soon, little one.”

[wiypt-writes]

Leave No One Behind

Ch 13- We Don’t Get Along

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: The team undertake another mission, only this one doesn’t go according to plan putting the entire team in danger and Ari is left facing the fact that he might have pushed both Hannah and Sammy too far this time…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

A/N: Man it feels so GOOD to get back to this fic! We’re ramping up to the climax of the film now guys, so buckle up!

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 12 Part 2

A love like ours is love that's hard to find. How could we let it slip away? We've come too far to leave it all behind. How could we end it all this way? When tomorrow comes and we'll both regret, the things we said today.

  “Ari?”

Ari turned from where he had been helping someone across the sand to see a Navy Seal heading up the shore towards him.

“Yeah?”

“Here, this is for you.” The man handed him an envelope and Ari frowned. It wasn’t unusual for the Navy to sometimes bring messages and the like from home, especially as recently the stricter rules had meant that mail into Sudan from certain countries (Israel included) was being closely monitored, but still, he’d had a letter from Maya little over a week or so ago and wasn’t expecting another so soon.

“It's from your wife.” The seal continued, noting Ari’s hesitation and Ari reached out for the item in the man’s hand, glancing down at it.

“Thanks.” He folded the envelope and stuck it into his inside jacket pocket before he glanced up to see Hannah watching him, a confused expression on her face having clearly overheard the man refer to Sarah as his wife, which in fairness she still was as they weren’t divorced yet. But as he locked eyes with her, he saw the confusion slide into, well, hurt would be the most appropriate thing to describe it as and Ari, despite everything that was going on, let out a little groan. He hadn’t bothered to correct the man about Sarah and him being estranged because it wasn’t important all things considered.

Thankfully, Hannah shook herself out of her little moment and turned back to the task in hand which Ari was grateful for. This wasn’t the time or the place and he knew that Hannah would understand that. There were far more pressing things to deal with.

And those things got even more pressing when Max’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Guys, we have company.”

Ari froze, the radio in his hand as he hastily glanced around. “Say again?”

“We have company.”

Ari wheeled round and frantically began gesturing at the group of people on the shore line. “Go, go, go!” he urged, walking along the wet sand, his hand running through his hair as he looked up and over the beach. “What kind of company?” He asked, his voice urgent.

But the only response that came was Max cursing. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Military jeeps approaching from the North!” Max’s voice was clear but Ari could tell he was panicked “I see three, four jeeps.”

“Fuck!” Ari yelled, turning and gesturing to another Navy seal “Go, go, go, get on the Waverly!”

“Ari, what-” Hannah looked at him but before she could finish her sentence the sound of gunfire exploded across the night, sand scattering into the air as the bullets hit the beach all around them. Hannah gave a scream and ducked as Ari instinctively pulled her in front of him, placing himself between the oncoming fire and her.

“Sammy!” She yelled, looking around and Ari raised his head to check if everyone was alright. Jake was hurriedly shepherding a group onto one of the boats, helping push it out into the ocean, Sammy dodging around everyone trying to stop the panicking refugees from running away up the beach.

And then, one of the Navy seals gave a shout and dropped not far from where they were. Sammy paused and looked at the injured man, Hannah doing the same and they both ran towards him, keeping low.

Hannah was the first to reach him, and dropping to her knees she instinctively started to remove the man’s outer layer of clothing. “What's your name, soldier?” She asked, and when the man’s response was nothing more than a pained and panicked scream, she repeated her question a little more forcefully, trying to get him to stay conscious. “What's your name?”

“David.” He stuttered out, swallowing as he glanced up at her, his eyes wide with fright.

“David.” She nodded, her gaze not moving from his face as Sammy dropped to her side and immediately got to work, tearing off a sleeve from the man’s jacket and pressing it to the wound in his chest attempting to stem the blood. “Stay with us, okay?”

“You're gonna be all right.” Sammy nodded, before he looked up at Ari. “Get my bag, it's in the truck.”

“There’s no time!” Ari urged, ducking as another wave of bullets came flying their way. “We gotta get him to the Waverly.”

Sammy and Hannah exchanged a glance and Hannah took a deep breath.

“We’re sitting ducks out here, Sammy. His best chance is with the Navy medics.”

Sammy nodded and Ari grabbed one of the seals who had come running to help “Grab a leg!”

Ari and the Soldier lifted the wounded man, Sammy keeping his hand pressed over the wound in his chest as they made their way to the last waiting boat where they lay him down carefully with another seal.

“Hey, don't let go of this wound.” Sammy looked at the soldier who took over from him.

“Keep the pressure on even if your hand turns numb.” Hannah shouted over the noise, issuing instructions to the man in the boat. “You let go, he's dead!”

Hannah began to back away as Ari and Sammy gave the boat a shove, sending it over the beach before the three of them began to sprint up the beach, the bullets continued to fire into the air and sand around them. Ari shoved Hannah in front of him, yelling at her to keep low and not to stop, his heart pounding in out and out panic that she was going to get hit as they half ran, half stumbled to a cluster of rocks set a bit further up the beach, a little back from the shore line. Ari had no idea where Max or Jake had gone, he only hoped they’d found cover, but they were sensible guys, they knew the drill.

The three of them dropped into the shelter of the rocks, gunfire splintering shards off the boulders as they ducked, Hannah shrieking again as Ari once more twisted himself around her, one hand pushing her head down, the other curling around his own in a brace position.

“Dozen or so targets have been identified.” A Navy operative cracked on his radio. “Permission to engage.”

“No, do not engage!” Ari yelled back into his radio, desperate to try and keep control of the situation. “If you engage, it's all over. I'll handle it.”

“How?” Hannah screamed at him. “How the fuck are you going to handle this, Ari?”

Her eyes were wide with fright as he looked at her, swallowing slightly before he moved and took a quick look around at the approaching Sudanese Military.

“Do you trust me?” His chest heaved as he snapped his head back to look her in the eyes and she frowned.

“What? Yes, of course I do but-”

Before she could say anything else he grabbed her face, his large hands practically crushing her cheeks before he gave her a quick, furious peck on the lips and moved, tossing his radio onto the beach and covering it with sand.

“What are you doing?”

“Stay quiet and hidden.” He looked at her. “Once we’re gone, you find Max and Jake, and get back to the resort.”

“Ari, don’t you dare! I swear to fucking God if you leave-“

“Hannah for once in your life just shut up and do what I say!” He hissed at her, his face stern. At that he turned to Sammy “Follow my lead. “

“No, Ari-” Hannah began to protest but at that Ari stood up.

“Don't shoot, don't shoot!” He urged as he stepped out of the cover of the rocks.

“Sammy, please!” Hannah sobbed quietly as her brother dropped a soft kiss to her head.

“Do as he says, Han.” He urged before he too stood up and walked towards Ari, his hands held either side of his head.

“My name is Guy Thomas!” Hannah could hear Ari shouting. “From the Red Sea Diving Resort. We have tourists on night dive. What are you doing? Where's your commander?”

There was more shouting, and angry yelling and Hannah clamped her hand over her mouth, her body shaking uncontrollably as the tears poured down her face. She fought to keep the sobs from escaping her mouth, as she flattened herself back into the rocks as the shouting grew quieter and quieter. Eventually she heard the slamming of truck doors and the sound of engines as the vehicles tore away from the beach, and then there was nothing but the noise of the waves crashing against the shore.

Her chest felt tight and she was struggling to breathe, like her airway had been cut off. Scrunching her eyes closed, she hugged her knees closer to her body, waiting for the panic to subside as the world around her began to spin. She counted, reached down to the sand, feeling it between her fingers, cool against the heated skin on her clammy palms. Eventually, her chest released and she took in a painful gasp of air and opened her eyes, focussing on a spot of seaweed which lay to the left of the rock she was leaning against.

Hannah had no idea how long she was sat there, but eventually she gathered enough about her to take a cautious peek out from the rocks. She could see nothing, so she emerged at a crawl, staying low to the ground before she tentatively rose to her knees, then her feet, and began to scramble as best she could up the sand. A movement in her peripheral made her still but as her eyes focussed in the dim moonlight she recognised Jake’s loping gait. Then, another movement to the right had her focussing in that direction and she saw Max making his way towards Jake.

With a relieved sob she began to run towards them, stumbling a little as she sprinted as fast as she could towards the two men, just as Jake tackled Max to the floor. She continued running as Jake let go of Max having realised who he was and helped him to his feet, giving him a quick and urgent embrace. The two of them then spun in her direction and as she stumbled again, this time she couldn’t stop herself, and she felt her body pitching forward.

“Hey, I got you.” Max caught her under her armpits and pulled her to him as she pressed her face into his chest, her breathing ragged as she began to sob.

“Ari, Sammy, they took…they took…” She was hyperventilating again, the tears coursing down her face and Max pulled back a little, both his hands cupping her cheeks.

“We know.” He nodded. “They’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that!” She practically screamed and Jake hastily hushed her. “This, it’s like Andy again, Max! I can’t lose him! I can’t lose him, or Sammy, I can’t!”

“Cracker, I know this is hard, but you gotta be quiet.” Max’s hands curled around her upper arms as he stooped down a little so his face was level with hers. “We need to get out of here.”

Hannah took in a deep gulp of air, trying to control herself as she knew he was right.

“Let’s get home and find out what’s going on.” Jake added, his voice a little shaky.

“Yeah, okay.” She nodded, her voice wobbling. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for.” Max gently placed his hand on her neck in a sign of affection. “Come on.”

He offered her his hand and she took it, lacing her fingers into his and he gave a little encouraging squeeze. Taking a tentative step, she was pleased to find her legs cooperating, and with Jake walking on her other side, the three of them made their way quickly to the trucks.

“Dumb bastards left the keys.” Jake’s voice was shaky but relieved as he checked the ignition in one truck, Max inspecting the other before he gave a nod.

“Same here.” Max spoke. “Okay, we’ll take the off road route home. It’ll take us a little longer but we’ll avoid anyone who may or may not be waiting for us.”

Jake nodded, before he paused, and gave Max a quick embrace before he stooped to give Hannah a hug, noticing that she was shivering violently from a combination of fright and cold.

“Here.” he said gently, taking his jacket off and dropping it over her shoulder.

“Thanks Jake.” She mumbled, clutching it round her tightly, her fingers curling over the material, clinging to it as if her life depended on it.

“Any time, Red.” He smiled and she gave a little nod before she turned and made her way to the truck Max had checked.

As Jake made to walk away, Max grabbed his arm.

“You stop for nothing or no-one. If anything happens to one of us, the other keeps going.” He instructed, his voice low as he shot a glance over his shoulder to double check Hannah wasn’t in ear shot. “Fuck this leave no one behind bullshit.”

Jake nodded. “Keep going, yeah, got it.” He looked around before he sighed.” Ari and Sammy, man. They’re-”

“I know.” Max replied, his voice sombre as he cut Jake off. It didn’t need saying, he knew that they were in deep shit. “But if we don’t get back, then this situation is gonna be a whole lot worse.”

“Stay safe.” Jake nodded, and with a final quick embrace the two men headed to their respective trucks. Max hauled himself in to his and stole a quick glance at Hannah as she sat on the passenger seat, huddled in on herself, looking out of the window over the ocean. He took a deep breath, turned the key in the ignition and then set off, pulling away from the beach quickly, the wheels spinning slightly on the loose shale ground beneath the tyres.

****

"We're gonna get outta here. It's gonna be okay." Ari stated with fake conviction as he paced up and down the filthy jail cell he and Sammy had been thrown into. 

Sammy didn't respond, he had fallen into an introspective state the moment the Sudanese soldiers had made them get in the jeep and was now sat on a rusted bench inspecting the blood on his hands. Ari was worried about him and he had given Sammy a side glance before assuring him everything would turn out right, hoping to get the man out of the dangerous headspace he seemed to be caught in, but Sammy didn't even spare him a look. 

Then a guard walked past, the sound of a bunch of keys jingling and the clanking in another cell lock alerting Ari who turned hastily. "Hey, hey, excuse me." He called. "Excuse me. I need to talk to your commander. Hey!" Ari insisted but the guard totally ignored him, causing his despair as he resumed his pacing along the cell. "Fucking asshole."  

 "You're the asshole, Ari." Sammy spoke, his voice calm as his eyes remained fixed on the floor. 

"What?" Ari stopped and turned to look at him. 

 "I told you to cancel tonight's operation, I told you. I told you." Sammy insisted, his tone still calm as he fiddled with his fingers.

"You don't get to make that call." Ari responded somewhat irritated as he approached the cell door again.

 "No, I don't get to make that call, only you get to make that call."

"Is there something you wanna say?" Ari harshly asked.

"Why did you bring me down here?" Sammy lifted his head to look at Ari for the first time since they had arrived in the jail. "You act like we're best friends, but you never listen to a word I say. And I'm clearly not the best field doctor around anymore." He added as he raised his injured hand to punctuate his words. "Is it pity? Or was it just so you could get close to Hannah again?”

Ari snapped at Sammy's insinuations of him having a hidden agenda. "Yeah, it was pity. You happy? Now shut up." He ordered as he ran his hands through his hair. "We'll get out of here if we stay calm." 

 "They're gonna find out who we are." Sammy groaned. "They're gonna go to the hotel if they're not there already and they're gonna kill every single one of them, Max, Jake, Rachel..."

"Hey, stop using names." Ari cut him off as he walked towards him. He wanted, or better yet, he needed Sammy to keep the cover, and he also didn't need to hear him say the name of his sister. He didn't want to think about it, nor did he want to think about the fact he had left her behind albeit for a good reason, and the thought of her not being able to get to the resort safe and sound made him feel physically sick. "You don't know who's listening."

Sammy sat still but continued with his tirade against Ari's methods. "You think this kind of work is romantic? It's not romantic, it's practical. There's a protocol. You can't just make shit up as you go along and hope for the best."

"I know that." Ari snapped. "What we do is dangerous. People get hurt sometimes." He said in an attempt to justify his reckless ways, but that was the last straw. At the mention of someone being hurt Sammy cut him off loudly.

"Oh, I know." He shouted as he help up his hand angrily

"Is that what this is about? Your hand? Tangiers?"

"You know, I was a surgeon before I met you, and you dare come into my clinic, and make a joke about me not saving lives." Sammy replied, his tone harsh but calm at the same time.

"What joke, when did I make a joke? What joke?" Ari asked, annoyed and stunned at Sammy's accusation.

"It's not about my hand! It's about you." Sammy yelled as he stood up to face Ari. "It's about you and me. And Hannah. You had to drag her back into this fucking shit, and now she loves you." He spat the words at his friend's face, causing Ari to wince. "And they’re gonna torture us and we're gonna die in here and she’s gonna lose the both of us, lose someone she loves, again, and... and it's because your ego won't accept any help from anybody else.  And no matter what you do, I still fucking follow you around like that fucking dog of yours."

Ari swallowed. He was frozen and lost for words and the least he could do, or so he thought,  was to allow his friend the right to pour his heart out whether he liked his words or not. Sammy stood there looking at him for a few seconds before he laughed softly.

"I'm so stupid. I'm so stupid, I'm so stupid..." He repeated as he retreated to the cell door crying until he eventually shut up and started sobbing as he held onto the bars of the door.

"Hey." Ari tried to calm him, but then Sammy let out a scream of a yell, causing Ari to run towards him in an attempt to make him shut up.

"Hey, hey, hey, stop, stop, you're gonna get us killed. Don't-" he started to say as he tried to keep his voice even but Sammy cut him off with a punch which took Ari by surprise. Sammy took advantage of his staggering friend and blew him a couple more blows before Ari finally reacted, dodging the next one and was able to retaliate with a punch of his own, more in the hopes of making Sammy stop in order to avoid attracting the guards attention, than in a real desire to hurt him.

Eventually, the fight finally broke when Ari was able to overpower Sammy slamming him against a wall.

 "Sammy, stop." He hissed.

Sammy didn't fight back but pushed him away. "I tell you something now, Ari. If by some miracle we get out of here, if anything has happened to my sister, or Rachel because of you, I’ll fucking kill you myself."

Ari stared at Sammy as his words sank in. He was devastated, overridden by guilt and worried that his friend’s words might be actually a reality when or if they got out of that prison. That something might have happened to Hannah, to his firefly, because of him and his ego getting in the way. He had put his need to try and maintain cover so that they could continue their work before the safety of his team by forbidding the Navy Seals to get involved. They could have ended this there and then on the beach, and now they’d be on a ship heading for the safety of home. Instead here he was, banged up in a cell, again, with Sammy, having no idea if Hannah and the rest of the guys had made it home.

And if something happened to them, to his Firefly, he didn't know what he was gonna do. 

He felt the tears stinging at the back of his eyes as he slumped on the bench, his head in his hands, before he starting to silently sob.

****

The cell was silent, both men slumped on the floor on opposite walls. The only noises made since the fight had been Sammy's panting and Ari's hushed sobbing, which had died after a while. Ari was now watching his diver's watch, the time going painfully slow. It had been almost eight hours since they had been there. Eight fucking hours and every guard had ignored him. He sighed and threw his head back, grimacing as his face hurt from the blows Sammy had given him. He felt miserable. It was hot and sticky and he was in pain both physically and emotionally as Sammy hadn't spoken a word to him since their fight.

Eventually, Ari gathered all the strength he had left and pulled himself from the floor to sit on the bench and there he was, led on that bench, trying to clear his mind, when he heard footsteps. He sat up when a guard opened the door and nodded to them. He shared a glance with Sammy, who was also sitting up from his spot on the floor, and together they followed the guard out, down the corridor and into the main building where he saw Rachel and Madibo. Ari quickly put two and two together, Rachel must have gone to find Madibo to talk him into letting them out of the prison, and Sammy must have been thinking the same thing as Ari heard him give a little sigh. 

Ari was looking at Rachel, trying to read any sign Hannah was safe, but she was just staring at Sammy, taking in his horrible appearance as she struggled to keep a straight face. Ari knew that much, so his eyes fell on Madibo who was looking at him also taking in his injuries and then the Colonel's eyes flicked to Sammy's blood stained top. 

"Who did this to you?" Madibo asked them both, before he angrily turned to a guard speaking to him in Amharic.

"No, no, no, that's...It's not, they didn't..." Ari explained before he gestured between him and Sammy. "We did this. To each other."

Madibo frowned at Ari. "What do you mean?"

"We don't get along." Sammy deadpanned.

Madibo looked at Rachel before looking back at them and started chuckling heartily "Crazy Hawajas."  He said before laughing again. "You're free to go."

Ari paused, not daring to believe it, to believe his luck once more. He glanced at Sammy and then at Rachel and, looking for confirmation, he turned to Madibo who nodded. “You may go."

The three undercover agents thanked him and silently they made their turn to go, being escorted out by a guard. No sooner had they put a foot out of the building that Ari gently grabbed Rachel's arm, making her stop. 

"Did…"

"All three of them made it back, safe." Rachel cut him off before he could mention any names, her face expression not giving anything more away.

Ari let out a sigh of relief, as did Sammy, and the three of them stayed silent until they reached the jeep a few steps ahead when Rachel stopped and turned to Sammy, wrapping her arms around him.

"Hey." Sammy whispered, as he held her tight against him.

Ari dropped his head and stood still, hands on his jacket's pockets. He felt like he was intruding, but at the same time he was also desperate to get back and he knew it was like a five hour drive at least, till he could also wrap his arms around his firefly. Eventually Sammy pulled away and Rachel turned to Ari and examined at his face. "You did that?"

 "He’s an asshole." Sammy just shrugged.

Ari sighed and rubbed his head for a moment before holding his hands out for the keys. "I’ll drive."

****

The car drive back to the resort was distressing to say the least. You could cut the tension inside the car with a knife. Sammy had been sulking on the back seat all the time, refusing to say a single word to either of them. Rachel, on her part, had remained silent as well once she had filled them in properly in all the details of the last twelve hours or so at the resort and how she had gone to ask for Madibo's help after speaking to Ethan, who had told her he was flying to Port Sudan that very same day, but she turned back to check up on Sammy or watch Ari every now and then.

All in all, Ari was anxious and couldn't wait to get out of that suffocating space and hold Hannah in his arms again and check with his own eyes she was well. And he did after a few hours, as the car approached the resort he could see her figure standing behind Ethan, holding onto Jake's arm, squinting as if to check it was really him who was driving the incoming car.  Uneasy though he was about Ethan's presence at the resort, Ari tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile when he stopped the car and Hannah ran past Ethan towards him, jumping onto his arms once he had got out of the jeep, hugging him for dear life.

Ari held her tightly, chuckling before whispering sweet nothings into her hair to assure his girl he was really there and in one piece.  But no sooner had he chuckled again and kissed Hannah's cheek and put her down, she slapped him fiercely across his face, causing his head to whip sharply to the right as she started yelling at him.

"It isn't funny, you asshole!" 

Ari tried to calm her as he struggled to dodge her blows as she hammered her fists at his chest, his face, anything she could aim at, but it was proving a really difficult task. Hannah had gone into overdrive and was desperately trying to whack him as tears run down her face. 

"Hannah!" Sammy called her, in an attempt to stop his raging sister, more as a desire to calm her than preventing her from hitting Ari. And then, as Hannah's brain registered the sound of her brother's voice, she stopped dead and threw herself into his arms, sobbing disconsolately. 

Eventually Hannah pulled away and Sammy kissed the top of her head before Rachel took her out of Ari's reach. Ari was confused, he knew deep down that Hannah had all the right to be mad at him but was hoping to make her understand why he had acted like he had before having to deal with Ethan and thus, he made a move to follow her and Rachel but Ethan cleared his throat demanding his attention and compelling him to stay put with only one look.

"You're overdressed." Ari commented, trying to lighten the tension a bit. But Ethan wasn't in any mood whatsoever to entertain his dark humour.

"Let's talk, inside." he ordered, un-phased.

 Ari dropped his head and had just started following Ethan who had turned to go inside when Sammy called the older man.

"Ethan!" He paused, giving time for Ethan to turn to look at him. "The soldier that was shot?"

Hannah dropped her head, she already knew the man’s fate as it had been one of the first things she had asked Ethan when he arrived in the resort, and Ethan looked at Sammy sympathetically before answering. 

"He lost too much blood." 

Sammy's head fell in understanding and Ethan turned again to follow Ari to his and Hannah’s hut. 

Ari paused to take off his jacket, before he felt something in the inside left pocket and suddenly remembered the letter he had received on the beach. He pulled it out, taking a look for the first time at the writing on the front and whilst it was addressed in Sarah’s tidy writing, he spotted a small smiley face in the bottom corner drawn in crayon. Taking a deep breath to steady his once more brewing emotions, he tossed the letter onto his nightstand before throwing his jacket over the chair in the corner as Ethan closed the door to the hut behind him.

"How did this happen?" Ethan asked, his voice calm.

"They mistook us for smugglers." Ari explained, his voice lower than usual, as he took off his watch as well and placed it on the bedside table, before picking up a towel that was on his bed.

"This whole thing's a bloody mistake." Ethan stated, visibly angry now, before sighing "It doesn't... It doesn't really matter anymore."

 Ari then stilled, realising what he meant. "You shutting us down?" He asked, and Ethan nodded, making him drop the towel he was cleaning himself with and sit on his bed. “You can't, Ethan." he said then, keeping his voice as calmed as possible. This mission's a success, we've got thousands of people out, we have thousands more coming this way." 

"That's exactly why we have to stop now.  While it's still a success." Ethan offered.

 Ari then stood up again. "God, you're thinking about the politics. Nothing's changed." He said, almost pleaded, as he approached Ethan. "The Sudanese don't know the missing..."

"You could have died last night." Ethan cut him off. "We were this close," he said, gesturing with his index finger and thumb, "to having an all-out war between our Navy Seals and the Sudanese military.  You were arrested. Again. They have a file on you."

With a groan Ari sat back down on the edge of his and Hannah’s bed.

"My job here isn't finished." He stated stubbornly, his voice soft again, making Ethan sigh and take a seat on a chair in front of where Ari was sat.

“Open your eyes. Look what's happening in Khartoum. They're arresting and executing dissidents. They're beating uncovered women in the street. They're expelling foreigners. Textbook revolution. It's time to get out." 

"Please, Ethan, please." Ari pleaded, but Ethan cut his pleads off loudly.

 "I want you chaps home." And then he shrugged.  "I don't need more bodies on my conscience. Take a few days to organize. And get the hell out of this God forsaken place."

Ari didn't say a word, but then again there wasn't much else he could say, and Ethan sighed as he stood up.

"Now I suggest you go deal with your domestic problems."

Ari shook his head, fully understanding what Ethan was referring to, and as much as he knew that was exactly what he had to do, he wasn't looking forward to Hannah's reaction to him again.

"I've been here for a few hours already and she’s hardly spoken a word. Every so often she would simply get up and walk the dog but that was it." Ethan explained and Ari sighed frustratedly. "Textbook PTSD if you ask me." He added, watching Ari intently.

"PTSD?" Ari frowned, lifting his head to look at Ethan who rolled his eyes and audibly sighed at his team leader's stupidity.

"Shall I remind you she already lost a husband in very similar circumstances?"

"Shit." Ari groaned, suddenly everything clicking in. A night mission, an ambush, them hiding behind rocks trying to find cover from stray shots...

"Penny dropped, Ari?" Ethan asked, before opening the hut's door.

Ari looked at him and swallowed hard as he nodded, his head falling down before whispering. "Yeah, yeah."

"Good. Now go deal with it." Ethan suggested before stepping outside the hut. Once outside he paused, and turned to Ari, a slight twinkle in his eyes. “I have to ask, where did you find the dog?”

“Erm…” Ari frowned at the man’s change of subject before he took a deep breath. “Han found him, in a cave at the end of the cove.”

“Hmmm.” Ethan said, his eyes flashing with a sudden humour. “I like him. He reminds me of someone, can’t think who” And with a final look at Ari he turned and left.

As the door shut behind Ethan, Ari let out a groan and ran his hands down his tender face. His fingers steeped in front of his mouth as he contemplated the fact that Ethan had basically just ended the mission. Ari wasn’t an idiot, he had known for a while this day would come, sooner rather than later, but still he wasn’t ready, not yet.

But then, would he ever be?

His eyes wandered around the hut that he had, for the last two years, called his home and all thoughts of disappointment flew from his mind as he spotted the envelope he’d tossed down five or so minutes ago. He stood up and made his way over, snatching it up before he opened it and pulled out the contents. There was no long letter, simply two folded up pieces of paper. The first one was blank, but inside that one was another that held a crayon drawing and he instantly felt his nose begin to sting and his eyes watered as he glanced down at the sketch of Maya, Sarah and him, complete with his rucksack hanging from his hand and beard on his face. He took a shuddering breath as he saw the words ‘My family’ written over the top of the photo and he wiped his eyes hastily, before he spotted that Maya had written the letters PTO in the bottom corner. He did just that and felt his mouth drop open at the second drawing on the back. It was him, this time depicted on a beach, with a woman next to him with long, dark hair, and at his feet sat a small grey dog. This time, the words ‘My Dad At Work’ were written alongside it and Ari sighed, taking a deep breath as he chuckled a little.

“Oh Munchkin.” He whispered, tracing the lines of the drawing a little before he folded it and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans to show Hannah.

That was if he could find her because, as it stood, she was proving to be quite elusive. She was nowhere to be found in the main building, Max and Jake who were in there both told him they hadn’t seen her in a while. He checked everywhere he could think of, the reception, kitchen, spare rooms, lounge area before be headed out to her little cave and there was no sign of her there either. With a sigh he stood on the beach, hands on his hips as he glanced along the shore line trying to figure out where she could possibly have gone when he heard a little bark in the distance. Turning his head towards it, Ari felt a smile cross his face as his eyes landed in the little boat shed where all the diving equipment was kept.

Bingo.

He hurried towards it and found her, not in the hut, but sat in one of the boats tied to the jetty, looking out over the ocean. Simon gave a little whine as he saw Ari coming and started to wag his tail in greeting.

“Hey.” Ari spoke as he walked down the small wooden jetty towards the diving boat. “I’ve been looking for you all over.”

“Take a hint then.” Hannah sniffed, not bothering to turn to look at him. “When someone hides it usually means they don’t wanna be found.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Ari asked as he gently stepped onto the boat causing it to sway gently, ripples spreading out on the surface of the ocean which was as still as a millpond. Simon jumped up at him and he gently pushed the dog down, giving him a quick pat.

“Leave me alone, Ari.” Her response, although not a direct yes, was affirmative. “I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“Come on Firefly, please.” Ari sighed, sitting on the bench opposite her. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what exactly?” Her head snapped up to look at him and Ari took a deep breath as he saw the anger blazing once more in her eyes. “For almost getting us killed? For being a reckless asshole? For fucking leaving me behind?”

By the time she had finished her voice was loud, laced with hurt as much as anger, and Ari swallowed, shaking his head.

“I needed you to stay hidden, Hannah.” He pressed, trying to explain his actions. “If they’d have seen you and taken you do you know what they’d have done to you?”

“You left me, Ari!” Hannah sniffed. “You left me and I was terrified.”

“Because I couldn’t let them find you, Baby!” Ari felt his gut twisting at the expression on Hannah’s face as she glanced away from him, tears in her eyes. “Do you think I wanted to leave you?”

“I doesn’t matter what you wanted!” Hannah screamed at him, making him recoil a little. “You did it! And I didn’t know what had happened to you, or what they were gonna do to you, or if I was ever gonna see you or Sammy ever again. I was going mad there, in the dark, hiding by those rocks and having to listen to everyone yelling and wondering if they were gonna find me, and if they had I’d have been there, alone, no gun, nothing!”

“I had no choice, Han!” Ari replied, his own voice gathering volume and momentum as he tried to make her understand. “If they’d have found you, you know what this place is like for women, shit, I don’t even wanna think about what those bastards would have done to you.” He swallowed, as the mere thought about what she could have gone through was enough to make him feel sick.

Hannah glanced at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as tears coursed down her face. All Ari wanted to do was hold her in his arms, but as he moved towards her she held her hands out and shook her head.

“Firefly…” 

“I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.” She spoke softly, and Ari frowned at her sudden change of mind and demeanour. “We all got back safe. You and Sammy are here and okay, well, sort of.” She nodded to the bruises on the left side of his face and Ari took a deep breath as she continued. “But I can’t lose you, Ari. I won’t go through that again, I can’t go through that again, I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying?” Ari whispered, his stomach turned to lead as he contemplated what her words meant. And when she answered, and confirmed his fears, he felt like his entire world was crumbling around him.

“I can’t do this.” She waved her hand between them. “Not anymore.”

“Hannah, no, please.” He gulped, reaching for her hand. ”Don’t do this.”

“What choice do I have?” She sniffed through her tears. “I love you, Ari. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, Mi Lobo, but I can’t lose you, and I can’t lose what I don’t have.”

“Hannah…” Ari felt his own lip beginning to wobble as he trailed off, the lump in his throat felt like a golf ball as the tears pricked his eyes.

“I couldn’t stand you leaving me again or dying…” Hannah’s voice dropped to a whisper and Ari shook his head.

“I’m never gonna leave you, Firefly.” He took a shuddering breath. “Not that way, you know this. I love you so fucking much.”

She turned her blue eyes to his, and he reached up, his hands cupping her face. “Ethan is pulling us out now anyway, so we’re going home.” His thumbs gently brushed over her cheekbones as he held her face steady so he could look at her. “And I’ll find something else to do. A desk job...”

“Will you?” Her tone was disbelieving.

“Yes!” He implored. “I told you almost two years ago that this was going to be my last field mission.”

“And how long until you get bored, or miserable?” Hannah shook her head, pulling her face out of his gently grasp.

“Nothing could make me as miserable as losing you.”

She turned to look out of the boat over at the sun which was sinking below the horizon before she shrugged. “Well, suppose you’d know how that feels, I mean, you walked away from me once after all.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Ari heard her groan a little and he looked down at his hands, as he felt her turn to face him.

“I’m sorry, that was mean.”

“Maybe.” He looked at her with a sad smile. “But the truth hurts doesn’t it?” He took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes. “I can’t explain how sorry I am for leaving you last night. I can’t apologise enough for being an asshole and I can’t even begin to show you how much I love you, Hannah.” He sniffed a little and looked at her.

“I know.” She shook her head, fresh tears falling from her face.

“Then don’t finish this, please.” Ari’s chest hitched as Hannah looked at him once more, before she let out a huge sob, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Ari, I don’t want to, I don’t wanna be without you.” She cried. “I was lashing out, you know I lost Andy and yesterday I really thought I’d lost you again, and Sammy, and as per the last time I never got to say goodbye….”

At that she completely broke down, more apologies spilling from her mouth, and Ari hastily moved to sit by her, pulling her to him as she sobbed, her hands fisting in the back of his T-shirt as her arms hugged him. Ari pressed his face into her hair, his own chest hitching with silent sobs as he held her tightly, never wanting to let her go again. He’d been an asshole, he knew that. He also, deep down, knew that Ethan was right. They did need to get out of here. Not simply because of the Authorities, but the team were tied, they were done. And it was certainly better to quit whilst it had been successful than to go out under a dark cloud should anything go wrong.

Plus, he couldn’t lose the woman in his arms. Not again. He wanted a future with her. He saw them building a home, living together in a normal place, doing on normal dates, marriage and maybe even a family of their own.

With a shuddering breath he pulled back and looked down at her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t wannabe without you, either.” He shook his head. “I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Firefly. And I know me and Sarah aren’t legally divorced yet, but as soon as we’re home I’m gonna sort that out and…” he trailed off. “Then it’s a clean slate, for me and you.”

At that Simon jumped up in between them and Ari’s large hand lazily scratched behind his ear, as he took the opportunity to steady his emotions as the relief that she didn’t want to end things between them flooded Ari’s system. As the dog let out a little sigh of satisfaction, Ari was suddenly reminded of the picture in his pocket. He shifted slightly, and reached behind him, pulling it free.

“What’s that?” Hannah asked, wiping her face.

“It’s the letter the Navy Seal gave to me.” He said, holding it out to her. “Maya sent it. Have a look.”

Hannah eyed him for a moment before she took the piece of paper and Ari watched as she studied it, her eyes growing wide. She took a deep breath, tears once more trickled down her cheeks as she gave a little laugh, before she looked back up at him.

“If you wanna know where exactly you sit in my life, then there you have it.” He swallowed. “Maya knows all about you, because I tell her so much, and, fuck, Hannah…I…”

At that he was cut off as she surged forward, pressing her lips to his, her arms round his neck, pulling him down to her. Ari’s hand slipped a little on the bench, causing Simon to grumble in protest as he wriggled free from where he had been unceremoniously squashed as Ari’s strong arms pinned Hannah to his chest. The kiss was frantic, moans and groans slipping from both their mouths as their tongues fought for dominance. Hannah’s hands moved to tangle in the back of Ari’s hair, fisting slightly around the ends of the long strands round his neck and then the pain in Ari’s face suddenly registered and he gave an involuntary hiss and pulled back, his hand reaching up to his face, fingers gently pressing along his jawline.

Hannah studied him in the dim light that was now flooding the boat thanks to the lamps coming on around the resort. She gently reached up and titled his head around so she could see his injuries and for the first time noticed that it wasn’t just around his left eye. That side of his jaw as also peppered with bruises. She swallowed.

“Did they…”

“No.” Ari assured her. “It was Sammy. We err, we had a fight.”

“What?” She frowned, her hands dropping to his shoulders. “Why?”

“Coz I’m an asshole.”  He shrugged and Hannah arched her eyebrow.

“Well, yes, that’s a given, you are but…” She sighed. “Next time he beats up your pretty face I’m gonna smash his head against the floor.”

“You think my face is pretty, huh?” Are teased, gently placing his hands on her hips and Hannah smiled.

“You’re the most handsome man in the whole world to me, Lobo.”

“Good to know.” Ari smirked.

Hannah studied him for a moment before she sighed. “I love you, I’m so sorry for before.”

“Hey, don’t.” He shook his head. “I understand, I was an asshole. You and Sammy, you’re both right but…” He took a deep breath. “That’s why I get what Ethan’s saying now. We’re done. It’s time we all go home.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Well I need to find Kabede, make sure he’s okay, and break the news to him.” Ari licked his lips. “Then we need to pack up what stuff we need to here and then we go.”

“Cut and run?”

“Most probably.” He nodded.

“Hmmm.” Hannah looked at him. “There is one thing you gotta do before all that.”

“What?”

“Shower. You stink.” She wrinkled her nose and Ari let out sigh.

“Yeah well, it wasn’t exactly the Ritz in there.” He shrugged before he ran one of his hands through his slightly greasy hair, the other flexing on her hip. “Wanna come scrub my back?”

Hannah looked at him for a moment, before she licked her lips and gave a grin. “Only if you repay the favour.”

“Why kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” Ari grinned and with a little groan he rose to his feet, offering Hannah his hand. She took it and together they made their way down the quiet, moonlit beach heading for their hut, Simon trotting behind them.

**** Chapter 14

[ladyherenya]

This was more-books-than-sometimes month, because rather than take the time to write about the books I'd finished, I just read more books! Also, I read a lot over the Easter break, including some shorter books and a very binge-able series.

Also read: Two-Step and Someone Like Me by Stephanie Fournet, Hooked by Cathy Yardley, “Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears” and “All the Different Shades of Blue” by W.R. Gingell, and “Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory” by Martha Wells.

Reread: A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer.

Total: nineteen novels (including two audiobooks and one reread), one novella collection, two novellas, two novelettes and one short story.

Cover thoughts: Bellewether’s blue cover is (unsurprisingly) my favourite. I also really like The Ghosts of Sherwood. 

Still reading: A Portrait of Loyalty by Roseanna M. White and Playing Hearts by W.R. Gingell.

Next up: Torch by R.J. Anderson.

My full reviews are on Dreamwidth and LibraryThing.

*

The Rose Code by Kate Quinn (narrated by Saskia Maarleveld): Historical mystery about three young women who worked at Bletchley Park during WWII.

My favourite out of the books I’ve read so far this year. Most of the narrative is set during the war, but interspersed with sections set in 1947 -- when Beth, in a sanitarium after a breakdown, has sent her two estranged friends a coded message begging for help. I loved this, but at times found it stressful and heartbreaking! The writing is so lively and effective and emotional. 4½ ★

 *

Castle Charming by Tansy Raynor Roberts: Fairytale retellings, collection of novellas.

A very entertaining and a somewhat different take on fairytales, focusing on the reporters, Royal Hounds and royalty at Castle Charming. Some of the character dynamics felt similar to those in Roberts’ Unreal Alchemy although I didn’t feel quite as attached to these characters. I’ll read the sequel. 3 ★ 

*

Bellewether by Susanna Kearsley: Historical and contemporary fiction, set in Long Island during the so-called Seven Years War in 1759 and the present day.

Alternates between a curator overseeing turning a house in a museum and some of the house’s previous occupants, including a French-Canadian Lieutenant awaiting hostage exchange. Despite the various tensions the characters face, there’s something slow and ultimately gentle about this story. Which is lovely --  I enjoyed the picturesque sense of place and astute observations of people -- but it is less dramatic than I was expecting. 3½ ★

*

Happy Trail by Daisy Prescott: Contemporary romance, set on the Appalachian Trail.

A park ranger and a hiker shelter together during a storm. I was fascinated by the insight into hiking the Appalachian Trail and enjoyed some of the characters’ interactions, although I thought the way the romance unfolded was somewhat anticlimactic. Not always what I wanted, but I don't regret reading it.

*

Legacy by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary enemies-to-roommates-to-lovers.

Wes offers to move in with his late-best friend’s girlfriend to help her out financially. This sort of hurt/comfort appeals to me. I liked how seriously this story takes Corinne’s messy, consuming grief. I don’t really want to spend any more time with the characters, but I was very invested in seeing them reach a better place in their lives.

Two-Step by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary romance between an actress and a dance instructor. I enjoyed reading this. I particularly enjoyed how Beau helps Iris with her anxiety about dancing and with her controlling mother/manager. He’s very supportive and understanding! But I finished this with a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction -- Iris needed more opportunity to support Beau in turn.

Someone Like Me by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary romance between a yoga instructor and her new neighbour, who has just got out of prison.

This one didn’t particularly appeal to me. Although interesting to see the experiences of someone recently released from prison, the romance developed too quickly.

(No, I didn’t read all three of these back-to-back!)

*

Hooked by Cathy Yardley: Contemporary fandom-y romance novella, set near Seattle. Takes place during Level Up and is about two of Tessa’s colleagues.

I enjoyed the characters' interactions and would have liked this more if it hadn't felt rushed. 

*

The Ghosts of Sherwood by Carrie Vaughn: Historical Robin Hood retelling, novella.

Exactly what I wanted! It alternates between Robin and Marian’s eldest daughter, Mary, and Marian herself. I liked seeing Robin and Marian as a long-married couple, who still love each other and still have disagreements. And the dynamic between their children gave me a zing of recognition, reminding me of my siblings. 3½ ★

*

The City Between by W.R. Gingell: Australian YA urban fantasy (murder) mysteries. Set in Hobart.

I ended up enjoying this series so much more than I’d expected to!

Between Jobs: After a neighbour is murdered, our seventeen-year-old orphaned narrator acquires some unexpected housemates -- two fae, one vampire. Once I got past the opening, with its tales of murder, the worldbuilding intrigued me. I still wasn’t sure what I thought about her housemates or the fact that they call her “Pet”, but was willing to reserve judgement until I’d read more. 3 ★

Between Shifts: About supermarket shifts and shapeshifters. Pet and JinYeong go undercover at the local grocery store. This is a reasonable murder mystery. I was initially disappointed with how something played out (but in retrospect can see how that was actually a positive development for Pet). It ended on a cliffhanger, so I was extra motivated to start the next book. 2½ ★

Between Floors: This is where the series took off, because things suddenly get personal! One of her fae housemates has been captured and the closest any of them get to finding Athelas is Pet contacting him in her dreams.This raises a lot of interesting questions, not just about Pet’s abilities, but about her relationship with her housemates. How much does she trust them and how much do they value Pet’s personhood? 3½ ★

Between Frames: Pet’s housemates are hired to investigate a series of fae deaths around Hobart, which involves scrutinising some baffling security footage.  Another solid murder mystery.  The final pages felt like one step forward, two steps back, but yet again, in retrospect, this was a positive development. I’m glad I could dive immediately into the next book. 3 ★

Between Homes: Pet has moved in with some friends. Hurray for Pet having friends! I think this was the point where I started to feel comfortable with Pet calling herself Pet -- when it's the name used by people she likes and trusts and who don’t view her as a pet at all. 3½ ★

“Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears” (novelette): An awesome title and an entertaining opportunity to see Pet from someone else’s perspective -- moreover, someone who doesn’t know her or what she’s capable of. 3 ★

Between Walls: Pet’s friend Morgana is worried about an online friends and asks Pet and co to investigate his disappearance. Along the way, they discover that there are human groups who actually know a lot about Behindkind. I am also becoming increasingly entertained by the Korean vampire. 3 ★

“All the Different Shades of Blue” (novelette): A great cover and it explains who that guy at the cafe is, but otherwise didn’t really do anything Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears hadn’t already done -- ie., show us Pet from someone else’s perspective. Most of the time, I have enjoyed this series all the more for binging it, but I suspect this particular story would have worked better if I had read it after a period of absence. 2½ ★

Between Cases:  My favourite of these have been the ones where things get personal, and this involves a lot of revelations about who Pet is -- from a fae perspective -- and why her parents were murdered. I enjoyed this one a lot. 3½ ★

*

The Duke of Olympia Meets His Match by Juliana Gray: Historical espionage romance novella, set in 1893 onboard an ocean liner travelling to England. Apparently not the Duke’s first appearance in Gray’s fiction.

I liked the idea here much better than the execution. I liked Penelope, a fifty-year-old widow dependent upon her position as a governess, and I enjoyed her interactions with the older Duke of Olympia. But parts of the spy plot were rushed or confusing, and the resolution was almost-but-not-entirely satisfying. 2½ ★

*

A Vow So Bold and Deadly by Brigid Kemmerer: Fantasy. Follows on from the fairytale-retelling A Curse So Dark and Lonely and its sequel, A Heart So Fierce and Broken.

If this is meant as a conclusion to a trilogy, then the ending was a bit too anticlimactic, with a few too many loose ends, to be really satisfying. But I reached the end feeling positive about the story, because I really enjoyed the characters’ interactions. All of the protagonists have to deal with conflict in relationships. I loved the times when they each navigate these conflicts by acting fairly and communicating honestly, when doing so is often difficult and complicated. That’s realistic and satisfying. 3½ ★

*

“Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory” by Martha Wells:  Science-fiction short story. Part of The Murderbot Diaries series, set after Exit Strategy.

Very, very short but I really liked seeing things from Dr Ayda Mensah’s (third person) perspective. 3½ ★

*

Emily of Deep Valley by Maud Hart Lovelace: Historical coming-of-age fiction, set in Minnesota in 1912-3.

I am very glad to finally have read this! It’s delightful, a fascinating insight into community life in a Minnesotan town, and it effectively captures the emotional experience of navigating a period of transition. After high school, Emily’s friends  leave for college, but Emily has to find her own path to purposefully fill her time, build connections and further her education. 4 ★

*

On Wings of Devotion by Roseanna M. White (narrated by Susan Lyons): Romantic historical mystery, set in London during 1918. Christian fiction. Features characters from The Number of Love.

Arabelle Denler is a nurse working in a London hospital; Phillip Camden is an airman now working for British Intelligence. I enjoyed their interactions, especially once they start to get to know each other. I didn’t like the antagonist’s contribution to this narrative -- between the dangers of wartime and the protagonists’ respective issues, there’s enough tension without her. But what I enjoyed about this story outweighed what I didn’t. 3½ ★

*

Our Darkest Night by Jennifer Robson: Historical fiction set during the Nazi occupation of Italy in WWII.

Nina, a young Jewish woman from Venice, goes into hiding by pretending she’s married to Nico, a Catholic farmer. Robson’s strength lies in pairing details of daily life with likeable characters, realistic dialogue and a sweet romance. I read this quickly and eagerly. But if the characters had been more nuanced, more complex, or if their emotions had been conveyed more vividly, I likely would have found reading this a more emotional experience. 3½ ★

[wordsablaze]

13/13 - goat string of fate

A Dozen Denials Soulmate-identifiers exist to make things easier unless you’re Jaskier, who’s equally as deep in love as he is in denial. But there’s only so many excuses you can make to avoid the truth… (aka jaskier’s soulmate is definitely a witcher, just not the one he first assumes)

A/N: what we've all been waiting for... undeniable red string of fate, but with goats for eskel's sake ;) @alllthequeenshorses @eskel-loves-lilbleater

previous chapter

-

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

Jaskier’s heart breaks.

He knows that Geralt isn’t lying because the words don’t show up on his skin and he knows that Geralt isn’t just saying that for the sake of it because his pulse is as steady as ever under his wrist and he knows that Geralt isn’t thinking with a clouded mind because he can’t feel any intense emotions at the back of his mind.

The only logical conclusion to make is that Geralt really means it.

“See you round,” he says, even though he’s not sure he will.

It’s nowhere near the first time he’s had his heart broken but somehow this time hurts so much more than every other time, probably something to do with the fact that he’s leaving his very soulmate behind as he walks away with blurred vision and wobbly steps.

He doesn’t walk very far, though; he just can’t bring himself to.

-

There is a building on fire.

And there is a witcher trying to help.

Nobody asked him to help and yet he runs into the building because he can hear the panicked heartbeats of four humans inside.

He hands over a frightened child to their mother and runs back in.

He hands over a man to his grateful sister and runs back in.

He hands over a crying girl to her father and runs back in.

There’s one more racing heartbeat inside the building but he can’t find it, it doesn’t belong to anyone he can see, and even though he tries his best because he can’t let anyone die - he just can’t - he has no choice but to leave when the roof caves in and smoke fills the air.

It’s only once he can breathe again that he realises the heartbeat has followed him out.

The last person wasn’t in the fire after all; they’re under his skin.

-

Jaskier doesn’t get the rest of the story from the others in the end.

He wants to - he’s a bard so of course he wants to - but he knows that his own story having just found such a bitter end means that he won’t do the dragon hunt any justice so he leaves its tale to the dwarves.

He’s tired and he kind of wants to cry and he doesn’t know which way he’s meant to go so he doesn’t even try to subtly follow the others back down the mountain. Instead, he walks and walks and walks and hopes he doesn’t fall to his death.

And he doesn’t. But he does stumble over nothing in particular and end up rolling over himself until he hits a tree, gasping for breath and curling around his lute because he doesn’t have any other source of comfort.

The last thought he manages before he drifts off - read: passes out - is that he’s incredibly glad his lute hasn't broken the same way his heart has.

-

There is a funeral.

And there is a witcher trying to mourn.

But there is something giddy in the back of his throat and something bright behind his eyes and something exciting at his fingertips and he cannot focus his emotions.

There is a fight.

And there is a witcher trying to concentrate.

But there is a puzzle in his lungs and a question on the tip of his tongue and a mystery in his every bone and he cannot tell if he knows what move to make next.

There is a festival.

And there is a witcher watching quietly.

But there is a heavy grief in his stomach and a heavy doubt inside his mind and a heavy pain within his blood and he has no idea why his body is telling him to be upset.

-

Jaskier wakes to the taste of oranges.

For some reason, it just makes him want to cry.

“We are not dying on some godsforsaken mountain,” Jaskier mutters to his lute but also to himself because if he is to die, it will not be at the hands of heartbreak.

A lot easier said than done, though, because he ends up lost. Horribly lost. So lost that he wonders if someone had moved him while he was sleeping because there’s no way he could end up so clueless when he’d been pretty close to their original path the day before.

And he’s not unfit but he must have bruised himself more than he can tell while tumbling because he doesn’t get further than the duration of half a dozen ballads before both his muscles and his lungs force him to stop and rest in danger of retiring altogether.

Still, he keeps going. He can’t find anything edible but he hangs onto the taste of oranges from his stolen dream as he pushes forwards, begrudgingly thanking Destiny for giving him at least that from his soulmate.

-

There is a town with a contract.

And there is a witcher who almost regrets accepting it.

The monster is easy enough to defeat, nothing that takes more than a day. No, the monster isn’t the reason he chooses to disappear for almost a month afterwards - that would be the mirror.

Or more specifically, what he sees in the mirror: one of his eyes is the wrong colour.

He thinks he’s delirious at first but one potion and two hours’ worth of meditating later, his eyes are still inexplicably mismatched.

His left eye is the colour of the sky. The colour of the ocean. The colour of a privilege that he was never allowed to have. And he’s read just about enough poetry to know how that means he has a soulmate out there somewhere.

All that does is drown him in a blue hue of guilt.

-

Jaskier has just started playing his third song on the lute when something crashes into his legs.

He yelps, springing to his feet and almost tripping over whatever it is that’d crashed into him, which turns out to be a goat. A goat, of all things.

“Right, well, if you could not do that whole attacking thing again, that’d be great. You have rather pointy horns,” Jaskier huffs, settling on the rock once again.

To its credit, the goat seems to listen, munching on grass instead of stepping on his toes as Jaskier starts playing again. Confused but not entirely against the company, he continues singing about whatever comes to mind until the sky begins to darken and the air turns cold.

He sighs, putting the lute away and gently reaching out to stroke the goat, smiling when it doesn’t just headbutt him and bleats happily before settling in his lap. “At least you seem to want to stick around,” he mumbles.

Too tired to find anywhere more sheltered, Jaskier pulls his doublet tighter around himself and hugs his new best friend as tightly as he dares. For a moment, the goat lifts its head and stares at him and he fears he’s about to have his eye poked out, but then it just burps and settles again.

This time, he falls asleep laughing.

-

There is a hearth.

And there is a witcher sat beside three other witchers.

And despite the warmth of the fire and the warmth of his family, he is cold.

He is colder than he ever is, colder than when he is submerged underwater during a fight or when he is caught unawares in a storm or when he is kicked out of a tavern because he brings down the mood.

There is no explanation for why he is cold because he is home and he is safe and he should be warm but for some reason, he is not.

He is rarely warm.

And if he is warm, he doesn’t understand why.

There is no explanation for why he is warm when passing ruins he’s never seen before or when camping in the middle of nowhere just to be away from people or when being told the last copy of the book he’d been looking for was just sold to someone else.

Eventually, he gets used to the confusion, pulls on a cloak, and moves on.

-

Jaskier is probably losing a few of his marbles.

With nothing better to do, he follows the goat as it travels along a seemingly random path to find nothing in particular, stopping every so often to munch on something or the other.

“I can’t believe I’m following a goat,” he mutters to himself as he brushes grass off his arms, “and it’s not even a cute little baby- what’s a baby goat called? Hmm, I should really know that… Or should I? It’s not like I’ve met any farmers lately. Or anyone, for who am I meant to meet atop a mountain? Well, a goat, apparently.”

Said goat bleats at him as if asking him to hurry up.

“Yes yes, I’m hurrying. Some of us don’t eat grass, you know? Oh, but how would you know when all you can think about is the next patch of moss you’re going to eat? Is that what life is to be, travelling from patch to patch and-? Hey, that could be a wonderful name. I dub thee Patchy, my dearest goat friend,” Jaskier declares, grinning.

Patchy bleats again and headbutts his shin but it’s okay because it doesn’t hurt in the slightest and he only wobbles a little bit.  

“I’m taking that as your approval!”

-

There is a woman.

And there is a witcher lying in bed next to her.

They are both tired and not quite awake and she is gently running her nails along his arms because she has never seen anyone with so many scars.

He is waiting for her to fall asleep but she sits up and frowns, pointing out the words that have appeared on his skin: but I didn’t take any honey.

She must be able to tell he’s just as confused as she is because she gives him a funny look but doesn’t pry, though he leaves in the dead of night while she’s still asleep to avoid any chances of her asking questions.

But the words keep appearing and he ends up with plenty of his own questions anyway.

When he’s mending his armour: it doesn’t even hurt anymore; when he’s hunting: I love you more than I love getting drunk; when he’s brushing his horse: I assure you I have a perfectly good explanation; when he’s buying new gloves: I’m afraid I don’t know you; when he’s stitching up a wound: of course I was given permission to be here.

And on and on and on.

He wonders if this person is even human at times because they seem to lie more in a week than he even talks in a month.

-

Jaskier is exhausted.

“Hey, Patchy, it’s been lovely to know you but I think the time has come to part ways because I simply cannot take another step,” he mutters, leaning against the closest tree and sliding to the floor.

Patchy leaps into his lap with an oddly angry bleat.

Jaskier shrugs, ripping up a bit of grass and letting her eat it off his hand before sighing. “I fear it is indeed my fate to perish here. Perhaps life does grant blessings after all, hmm?”

His stomach rumbles and Patchy seems to take offence, startling and jerking sideways, the goat’s horns catching on his sleeve and causing a panic that leads to a large tear in his doublet and a mercifully smaller tear in his skin.

Still, he winces, pressing a hand onto the cut and half-heartedly glaring at Patchy. “Really? You’re lucky the material is red anyway, you menace.”

He regrets his words when the goat stands, spins on the spot, and makes a strange noise before sprinting away. Somehow, that abrupt departure stings far more than his actual injury.

-

There is an ocean.

And there is a witcher who has never been to the coast for a good reason, and still hasn’t.

He doesn’t belong in this scene, he’s borrowing it from someone else without even knowing how, but he can’t look away from the waves as they brush over the sand and over his toes before retreating once more.

There is a cane.

And there is a witcher who has never suffered this kind of punishment, and still hasn’t.

Although the injuries are not his and the crime - if it even exists - has nothing to do with him, he can’t escape the burning pain and the sharp throbbing as someone makes sure the wood meets its mark, again and again.

There is a cat.

And there is a witcher who has never been able to see one up close, and still hasn’t.

He’s not the one touching the tiny ball of fluff that curls up in his palms, he seems to be experiencing someone else’s amazement, but the feeling of soft fur and quiet purring stays with him for no less than a week.

-

Jaskier is ready to give up.

He truly has no idea where he is or how he’s meant to get back to flat land. The berries he’d found in the morning have done very little to provide him with energy and he’s about to declare himself as food for the wolves or something when he hears bleating.

“Patchy!”

And it is.

The goat barrels into him hard enough to knock him over but he’s too busy trying to hug his horned friend to care. He’s also too busy hugging his horned friend to notice that he’s being watched. That is, until someone clears their throat.

He freezes, looking up.

There’s a very long moment in which his heart drops about a mile into his stomach as he catches sight of a wolf medallion but then he sees the amber eyes and the spiked armour and the hesitant smile and his lungs remember how to work once again.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Jaskier says, grinning.

The witcher frowns at that, glancing over him in clear concern. Before he can reply, Jaskier looks away to tug his sleeve out of Patchy’s mouth and winces as he pulls on the not quite scab that had developed over the goat-inflicted wound.

“Oh, is he yours?” the witcher asks after a minute, and gods is his voice deep enough to sink into forever.

Jaskier blinks, pulling himself back to the matter at hand before he spirals into a daydream and shaking his head. “I didn’t even know he was a he, to be honest. Thank you for that, by the way, at least I can sing him a more accurate song of gratitude now.”

The witcher chuckles and steps to the side, revealing another, smaller goat that immediately bounds over and settles on his leg; Jaskier has never been so innocently afraid to accidentally move in his life.

“She’s called Lil Bleater,” the witcher says, promptly cursing when said goat starts nibbling on the sleeve Jaskier had just saved from being eaten by Patchy.

“It’s not like I was planning on wearing this doublet again anyway,” Jaskier says, but he still feels incredibly guilty for letting such fine tailoring end up as food for a pair of goats.

-

Eskel has never been so confused.

He feels like he recognises this stranger from somewhere but he can’t place it, the knowledge is almost like smoke slipping between his fingers before he can grasp it properly.

“It looks like it’s seen better days anyway,” he says, immediately regretting it when the other man blinks at him.

But then he laughs - perhaps the nicest laugh Eskel has ever had the pleasure of hearing - and holds out a hand, amusement sparkling in his eyes. Eskel leans forwards to shake his hand but Lil Bleater chooses that moment to get up and charge at him so he steps back and picks her up instead, offering the man an apologetic look.

“Not to worry, my hand will live a little longer without the honour of yours in it. I’m Jaskier, and you have my eternal gratitude for appearing out of nowhere when I was about a day away from forgetting what other people’s voices sound like,” the man says sincerely.

“Jaskier?” Eskel echoes.

He knows Geralt has mentioned this bard in the past and he’d have to be living under a rock not to know of him at all, what with the songs that are sung his way whenever he ventures into more populated towns, but he can’t fathom why someone so famous would be spending his time with a mountain goat.

Jaskier grins up at him. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me! I wish I could say the same but I don’t believe we’ve met before?”

Eskel shakes his head. “I, uh, I don’t do… crowds.”

“You and every other witcher, it seems,” Jaskier says, but he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to insult anyone. If anything, he seems almost sad.

“The crowds seem more like your style, bardling. What are you doing up here?”

The bard opens his mouth to say something before closing it again, then sighs. “I got lost and ended up following a goat until I got even more lost?”

Eskel chuckles, then puts Lil Bleater back on the ground before leaning down and offering Jaskier his hand because it feels odd to continue the conversation while he’s still sitting down. This time, the goats don’t get in the way and he manages to pull them both upright.

-

Jaskier gets about five seconds of being upright before he keels over.

Everything hurts.

The world blurs around him.

His knees hit the floor with a dull thud.

Everything really hurts.

There’s something under his skin.

His body is on fire.

Everything hurts so very much and he has no idea what’s happening and the sky has disappeared altogether and there’s water rushing past his ears and he’s in so much pain and he’s going to die without even having learnt this gorgeous witcher’s name and he can’t feel his hands at all and it’s way too dark and-

“Breathe, Jaskier!”

He already is.

Or maybe he’s not.

He unclenches his jaw and gasps desperately.

“That’s it, just breathe, you’re okay.”

But he’s not.

Or maybe he will be.

He groans and reluctantly peels open his eyes.

“I’ve got you,” the witcher murmurs, and he has; his arms are practically cradled around Jaskier and the two of them are kneeling in a tangle of limbs on the ground.

Jaskier exhales.

“You’re not going to die, I promise. And my name’s Eskel,” the witcher whispers, at which point Jaskier mortifyingly realises he must have been panicking out loud.

Slowly, Jaskier uncurls his limbs.

He stretches his fingers out from where they’d been squeezed into fists and waits for a moment before accepting that whatever the blinding pain had been is over before looking up, intending to thank Eskel.

But Eskel gasps before he can say anything.

And Jaskier immediately panics again, wondering what could possibly be wrong. He doesn’t need to ask though, because Eskel lifts a hand to ever so lightly tracing his finger down the right side of Jaskier’s face and it doesn’t take a genius to work out what he can see.

“No no no no no,” Jaskier breathes frantically, “this cannot be happening.”

He pulls himself out of Eskel’s arms and shakes his head but his gaze lands on his hands as he uses them to balance and his breath hitches. Without wasting a second, he shrugs off his doublet and rolls his sleeves up, eyes widening at the sight of silvery scars he’s never earned, silvery scars he’d once had and once lost.

“No, I- I already know my- Geralt was- is- no, no, no no no no, wait. Wait. This can’t be right, it can’t- it- you can’t- I mean, we can’t be- nope, no no...” Jaskier’s words can’t seem to form themselves properly as he struggles to breathe.

-

Eskel has no idea what’s happening.

Except he does.

There’s only really one explanation for why the marks that had suddenly revealed themselves on Jaskier’s skin are an exact copy of his own scars, there’s only really one explanation for why the colour of Jaskier’s eyes had seemed so familiar, and there’s only really explanation for why he feels like someone has cast igni inside his heart.

Unfortunately, Jaskier doesn’t seem to like that one explanation.

He waits, though. He waits until Jaskier remembers how to inhale and exhale properly before offering the bard a small smile. “I’m sorry.”

Surprisingly, Jaskier looks confused at that. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I don’t blame you for preferring, uh, Geralt. Or anyone else, for that matter. I wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

Even more surprisingly, Jaskier shuffles closer and punches his arm with a surprising amount of strength, his confusion having been entirely replaced by anger. “I don’t know what in Melitele’s name you think you mean by that but I demand that you stop… thinking it. I’m not- I- I just thought- I’ve spent years, so many years, thinking that I knew and I- I don’t know… I can’t-”

He cuts himself off, his chin wobbling, and Eskel has the inexplicable urge to hug him.

So he does.

Jaskier stiffens for half a second before he seems to forget that he has bones and all but melts into the embrace, burying his head into the crook of Eskel’s neck and throwing his arms around him as if his life depends on it.

Eskel has never felt so pleasantly warm in his life.

He wraps his arms around Jaskier in return and pulls him close, pretending that he can’t hear the sobs the bard is trying so hard to stifle and marvelling at the fact that he gets to hold his soulmate in his arms at all.

His soulmate.

He’d never thought he’d actually get to meet them.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier mumbles eventually.

Eskel pulls back only enough to frown, brushing the tears away from under Jaskier’s eyes before tilting his head to the left. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

-

Jaskier feels like a fool.

He leans into Eskel’s soft touch for a moment before cupping the witcher’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry I never looked for you. I’m sorry I didn’t realise I was wrong. I’m sorry I almost just insulted you. I’m sorry for wasting so much time. I’m just so, so sorry.”

Eskel shrugs. “You didn’t know and I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault. I… I knew and I didn’t try so perhaps I ought to be the one apologising to you.”

But Jaskier did know.

To some extent, at least.

He’s known for long enough that not everything was adding up and he’d ignored it, he’d done nothing about it because he’d been terrified of losing Geralt, of losing his soulmate, of losing a life he’s loved, and it turns out he’s been losing everything he didn’t even know he could have had instead.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier mumbles again, letting his forehead fall against Eskel’s as he closes his eyes.

“How does getting to the nearest inn sound?” Eskel offers.

Jaskier laughs and meets Eskel’s eyes, nodding. “Sounds like a plan I can’t argue with.”

“We’ll start with getting you to a proper bed and then go from there.”

He tries to resist that, he really does, but Jaskier simply cannot stop himself from smirking and raising an eyebrow. “Straight to bed, darling? Aren’t you even going to buy me a drink first?”

The endearingly sheepish look on Eskel’s face is almost worth all the pain.

“Though you really should buy me a drink first, for one reason or the other; I am a little dizzy still,” Jaskier mutters, having forgotten all about that because of the unprecedented pain.

Eskel curses.

Before Jaskier can even process the emotional whiplash, Eskel has lifted him to his feet and turned around, dropping to one knee. “Let’s go.”

Jaskier blinks. “Are you asking me to… climb on your back?”

Eskel turns to look at him with half a smile. “I really don’t think you’re capable of walking more than a mile more without collapsing, Jaskier.”

Well, that’s probably true. He grabs his lute and swings that onto his own back before looping his arms around Eskel’s neck, his legs locking around the witcher’s waist as he stands up effortlessly.

-

Eskel smiles as Jaskier settles on his back as if he were born to do so.

Which, quite possibly, he sort of was.

He smells like the comfort Eskel gets from when the dreams he borrows are good ones and it feels impossible that he gets to experience it in person. But it’s very much not impossible because Jaskier is a steady weight around his waist and on his shoulder and against his neck.

It’s a little overwhelming.

“So you’re the one who was dreaming of a succubus then?” Jaskier asks out of the blue.

Eskel stops walking for a second, narrowly avoids accidentally kicking Lil Bleater, and clears his throat. “Dreaming? No. No, that’s not quite how we spent the night.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jaskier laughs brightly. Eskel can feel the way his shoulders shake with the force of his amusement and it’s almost a miracle that neither of them overbalance.

“You’ll have to elaborate on that at some point, it’s going to make a great song!”

“You want to write songs about the succubi I’ve met?” Eskel asks, confused. Surely the bard could have asked Geralt about them over the years, it’s not like witchers can afford to designate who takes care of which creatures or anything.

But Jaskier snorts, pokes Eskel’s cheek, and shakes his head. “No, I- I want to write songs about… about my soulmate.”

That feels like a confession and Eskel is honoured to have received it. He hums in acknowledgement and gently squeezes one of Jaskier’s legs. “Not to worry, we have all the time in the world.”

“We do?” Jaskier asks.

Shuffling the bard’s weight a little bit, Eskel lifts his right hand so Jaskier can see his wrist and more specifically, the ouroboros etched into it. He hears Jaskier gasp before there are gentle fingers around his arm that almost make him shiver, a warm finger tracing the symbol over and over until Eskel hears quiet sniffling.

It takes a while for Jaskier to exhale softly and give Eskel’s hand back to him, after which he goes back to supporting his weight more evenly. He has plenty of his own questions but he figures it’s best to leave them for later, when they’ve both recovered from the shock.

The town comes into view sooner than expected, or perhaps Eskel had just been unknowingly pushing himself to walk faster because he can feel the way Jaskier’s grip has slowly relaxed to the point where he’s practically just draped over him like a very strange sort of cloak.

As much as he doesn’t want to let go of Jaskier, he has to when they get to the stables. Both goats are more than happy to be secured near Scorpion, who huffs at Jaskier just hard enough to send him stumbling into Eskel’s side with a small yelp.

“I’ve got you,” Eskel chuckles.

-

Jaskier grins.

“That you have,” he agrees, “but have you got a room?”

Nodding, Eskel leads them both back to the inn. But instead of going up the stairs, he guides Jaskier to the table in the corner. “Stay here, I’m going to get some food.”

Jaskier blinks, used to this scenario playing out the other way around. Eskel is gone before he can even think of replying so he just yawns and waits, shuffling over when the witcher returns because if he doesn’t lean against someone, he’s probably going to fall into his meal.

Eskel pauses for a second before sliding into the seat beside him, placing two bowls of stew in front of them. “I know you’re tired but you really should eat.”

“How ever will I repay such kindness?” Jaskier mumbles before following Eskel’s instructions.

Jaskier is immensely grateful that Eskel doesn’t mind being leaned on because almost counterintuitively, eating only makes him want to fall asleep even more. By the time they’re both finished, he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Almost there,” Eskel says, at which point he realises they’re now halfway up the stairs.

Yawning again, Jaskier keeps a tight hold of Eskel’s arm as they get to his room, thrown off when they stop by the door instead of somewhere more suitable for sleeping. “What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning.

Eskel places the lute Jaskier apparently hadn’t been strong enough to carry himself down before gesturing around vaguely. “I didn’t know anyone would be staying with me so…”

Jaskier laughs, throwing his head back. He has no idea what compels him to do so but he cups Eskel’s confused face in his hands and places a soft kiss on his nose. “Eskel, darling, you are literally my soulmate. I think we’ll be alright sharing a bed.”

He can actually feel the way Eskel smiles under his hands and can’t help grinning back, but then his knees decide to buckle for no apparent reason - aside from the general exhaustion and probably clumsy bruises, of course - and Eskel is once again the only thing keeping him upright.

He’s not entirely sure what the sequence of events is after that but he doesn’t care to puzzle over it because he ends up with his head on an actual pillow and Eskel’s arms around him and he’s never felt so comfortable and safe and content in his life.

“Don’t leave without me,” Jaskier mumbles even as he can feel himself drifting off, only slightly embarrassed at being so obvious about it.

Eskel hums quietly and brushes the pad of his thumb over Jaskier’s cheek before moving his hair away from his forehead, smiling softly as their eyes meet. “I would never even think of it,” he promises.

And somehow, despite everything else in his life that’s somehow gone wrong and fallen apart and proven that perhaps he shouldn’t be so blindly trusting of what he thinks may be the truth even if he has plenty of reasons to believe otherwise, Jaskier can't bring himself to doubt the witcher’s words even in the slightest.

If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that Eskel has always been his destiny.

-

i apologise if this finale was a little messy because i was indecisive and couldn't choose just one pov but i am so hyped to have finished !!! i hope this ending was worth all the chaos <3

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

[harrowharkboygf]

i want to see you, dressed all in white

a short catradora oneshot, set at the time of adora's future vision. requested by @nozomijoestar. read on ao3.

Catra could not believe she was wearing shoes for this. It was such a strange experience, hearing the click clack of heels coming from her feet as she walked, but alas! Such was the life of an ambassador of Brightmoon.

And, she thought privately, the life of the wife of She-Ra. Hopefully. If everything went well tonight. She subtly traced the outline of the ring in her pants pocket. The box itself would have been too big and clunky to fix in her pocket, so Glimmer had helped her out and given her a tiny leather pouch to hold it in.

“If she finds the pouch, just say it contains important ambassador information like…IDs!” Glimmer had suggested.

Catra had raised an eyebrow. “We need IDs for Princess Prom?”

“Well no, but…” It was Glimmer’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “You and Adora did miss half the planning meeting, so how would either of you know?”

Catra had smirked. “We were…busy.”

She gave her a decidedly unqueenly shove. “Of course you were, Horde Scum.” Then Glimmer pulled her into a hug. “I’m so happy for you both. Adora’s gonna say yes immediately.” Catra wasn’t worried about her saying no; she knew that Adora loved her more than anything, and they’d been talking about marriage for a while now. No, she was worried that somehow something would go wrong and it wouldn’t be perfect. Adora was as amazing as the moons and the stars—she deserved perfect.

“Catra? Catra!”

She snapped back to the present. Adora was waving her hand in front of her face, grinning. Even at age twenty-seven, she still hadn’t lost the adorable, dorky look on her face.

“Sorry, zoned out for a sec,” she said, taking Adora’s hand and jumping gracefully down from the skiff. She took a minute to admire how beautiful her girlfriend looked tonight—she looked like a queen in her own right, the tiara sparkling off her golden hair and the white dress making it all too easy for Catra to imagine her walking down a wedding aisle. Her stomach fluttered.

“Are you nervous for your second Princess Prom?” asked Adora; her tone was joking but her eyes softened in a way that made Catra feel instantly safe.

“Not with you by my side,” said Catra, pushing down her nerves and leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Are you nervous?”

“Not with you by my side,” Adora mimicked, smiling against her lips.

If anyone was definitely nervous, it was Bow and Glimmer. This was the first formal event where they would be introduced as a married couple, and they had spent the whole skiff ride fiddling nervously with their clothes and asking to go over the schedule so often that Catra had asked Bow if he’d switched bodies with Adora.

“You two look amazing,” Adora told them for the seventh time this hour.

“Are you sure the capes don’t look stupid?” asked Glimmer. “I don’t wanna look childish.”

“What if I trip and fall on it?” Bow worried, toying with the edge of his cape.

“If you do, I will laugh and then kick all the asses of anyone else who laughed,” Catra assured him.

“And I’ll help!” said Adora gleefully, holding up her hand to be high-fived. Catra obliged her.

Glimmer and Bow both took a deep breath in sync. “Thanks, guys,” she said, a real smile spreading across her face.

Bow stuck out his hand. “Best Friend Squad!”

Everyone put their hands in the middle. “Best Friend Squad!” they cheered.

——

The former-Fright-Zone-now-renamed-the-Light-Zone looked absolutely stunning. Scorpia had really outdone herself. Unlike at Frosta’s prom, which had been decorated with gleaming ice sculptures, the ballroom was decorated with smooth, sleek black crystals reminiscent of the Black Garnet, giving the whole room a very sophisticated aura.

“Presenting Queen Glimmer and King Bow of Brightmoon!”

Bow and Glimmer did not, to their credit, trip over their capes or do anything else notably embarrassing. In fact, they were the textbook example of dignified, waving proudly to the crowd as they walked up to the dais, and then bowing low to Scorpia, who immediately jumped down from her throne to greet them.

And then it was their turn.

“Presenting Adora, Princess of Power, and Catra of Brightmoon!”

Catra offered her girlfriend her arm. It was partially an affectionate gesture and partially an effort to make sure she herself didn’t trip—she still wasn’t used to these shoes.

“Your Highness,” Catra said to Scorpia as she bowed.

“Oh, none of that ‘Highness’ crap!” Scorpia chortled, practically bouncing off her throne to envelop the two of them in a tight hug.

“All this stuff is so formal,” she whispered. “I’m so out of my depth.”

“You’re doing amazing,” Adora promised her.

The next hour or so was filled with so many boring conversations and introductions. It seemed like every diplomat and ambassador in Etheria wanted to talk to her and Adora. It was really cute when little kids came up asking for She-Ra autographs, but if Catra had to hear about the rising fish prices in Salineas one more time, she was going to be homicidal.

Despite coming as each other’s dates, Catra and Adora had to split up in order to divide and conquer all of their social obligations, a strategy that Bow and Glimmer had also adopted. That didn’t stop Catra from throwing as many longing looks at Adora from across the ballroom as physically possible.

She tried to seek shelter with Double Trouble, who would definitely not force her to ruminate on the state of “today’s youth”—a conversation that withered old advisers seemed to love—but their need to be the center of attention kept also drawing attention to Catra. This made it particularly hard to accomplish her goal of “only talking to people she wanted to talk to”. Glimmer, surrounded by a group of Mystacor sorcerers, gave her an arm squeeze in solidarity as she passed by.

Eventually she managed to escape yet another drab discussion of the pros and cons of a trade alliance between the Crimson Waste and the Kingdom of Snows under the premise of greeting Frosta. She was able to enjoy the beginning of a nice banter/advice session concerning Frosta’s love life before the princess was preoccupied with an adviser asking her opinion on intra-kingdom matters.

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken those off yet,” Adora said behind her, making her jump. She gestured down at the cursed shoes.

“I wish,” Catra grimaced, taking the cup of punch her girlfriend offered. “I was afraid someone would throw a fit.”

Adora wrapped an arm around her shoulders, which Catra leaned into gratefully. “Is it that advisor over there?” she whispered in her ear, subtly turning Catra’s head so she can see who she meant. “The one with an angry look on his face? Are you afraid of him?”

She snickered. “What, did you have to hear his monologue about decorum too?”

“He even made a comment about ‘last time’,” Adora told her, laughing under her breath. “A very pointed remark about breaking tradition.”

“Ooh, insulting She-Ra, is he? I’ll kick his ass.”

“My hero.”

Catra turned to face her fully, placing one hand on Adora’s hip. “You know it,” she murmured, leaning forward to press their lips together.

“Adora!”

Catra pulled back, groaning under her breath, as they both turned to see Perfuma waving at them. The flower princess held up her own cup and gestured at a group of stern-looking Plumerians. Adora pecked her cheek before hurrying off again.

At this point, Catra was beginning to get worried that she wouldn’t ever get the chance to be alone with Adora. She once again traced the outline of the ring pouch in her pocket, biting her lip.

Then, to her immense relief, music started playing. She grinned. It was time for the real party to start.

Adora easily found her on the dance floor. Catra leaned eagerly into her warm touch, let herself be rooted in her relaxed blue eyes. “Will you be my dance partner?” asked Adora teasingly.

Catra pretended to think it over. “Hmm, I don’t know. Are you any good at it?”

Adora winked. “Nope.”

Catra blew her a kiss, and then the dance started, everyone moving in sync. Adora kept her eyes fixed on her girlfriend, her steps steady and confident despite her previously stated lack of talent. “I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” she murmured back. “Always have, always will.”

The movements of the dance pulled them closer, the tempo slowing down. Adora used this opportunity to cup her face and kiss her firmly—finally—before the pace of the music picked back up again and everyone switched partners.

The carefully-choreographed switch in the dance pushed her and Glimmer together, a move that made the both of them grin easily. Things really had changed since the last Princess Prom, Catra thought to herself.

“Do you have a specific plan?” asked Glimmer, nodding almost imperceptibly at her pocket.

Catra nodded. “I just need a way to get a moment alone with Adora.”

Glimmer winked at her. “I can do that.”

Then she was passed off to Mermista, who she hadn’t seen yet that evening. “Heard you knocked up,” said Catra in lieu of a greeting.

Mermista twirled her, a lazy smirk sliding across her face. “Yeah, just a little baby barnacle growing, nothing to see here.”

“Congrats,” Catra told her genuinely. Mermista would never be her best friend—that was reserved for Adora, and Glimmer and Bow—but she had the deepest respect for her, and they got along wonderfully.

A slight blush drifted over her cheeks. The queen had never been good at accepting compliments—one of the many things they had in common. “Bow told me,” she said, “so like, congrats to you too.”

Catra rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “What, does the entire Princess Alliance know?”

“Probably,” drawled Mermista, and then Catra spun her one last time before they parted ways.

“Catra!” Scorpia greeted her with just as much enthusiasm as before. “I heard the news! How can I help?”

As they began the waltz, Catra mulled it over. “Actually,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “I do have a request.”

——

“Greetings, Princess Prom guests!” Perfuma said in a trill, speaking into the microphone. “I hope you all enjoyed your first dance of the night! Now we will have a live performance by our beloved host, Princess Scorpia!”

The crowd cheered wildly. Scorpia stepped onto the stage, looking radiant and sure of herself under the spotlights. She tapped the microphone once to test it, before she began to hum the opening notes of a ballad.

Scorpia’s song wafted through the ballroom, filling the air. Perfuma sat behind her, strumming a huge string instrument made of wood and occasionally providing backup vocals.

Catra and Adora swayed together on the dance floor, saying nothing, just enjoying each other’s presence. Catra spun her around slowly as Scorpia crooned, occasionally pressing a light kiss to her skin as she drew her closer. Adora, in turn, just watched her, a soft look on her face.

After Scorpia finished her first song of the night, everyone cheered, clapping their hands and whistling in approval. The princess flushed a deep crimson, exchanging a delighted look with Perfuma over her shoulder. A shout of “Encore! Encore!” started up.

Catra took Adora’s hand. “Let’s sneak out for a bit,” she whispered. “Everyone’s entranced by Scorpia’s singing, so we won’t be missed.”

The gleam in Adora’s eyes was ever so familiar, a look that she hadn’t lost even as she grew older. “Lead the way,” she whispered back.

They snuck out through one of the many hallways branching out from the ballroom. The hallways were well lit and decorated similarly to the ballroom; it looked so different from the hallways they’d once scampered through as kids.

But they raced just the same, hand in hand, giggling as they chased each other. Catra mussed up Adora’s hair, cackling as her girlfriend playfully pulled her into a headlock. Their outfits were thoroughly disheveled by the time they reached the ladder, but Catra didn’t care.

“Do you recognize where we are?” she asked.

Adora touched the rail of the ladder. “Of course,” she said, returning Catra’s grin. “I’d recognize this place in my sleep, no matter how many times the walls are repainted.”

Catra kicked off her shoes, sighing with relief when the pads of her feet touched ground again. “Follow me, then.” She hoisted herself up onto the first rung of the ladder, and began to climb.

“Not fair!” shouted Adora below her. “I’m wearing a dress and you’re not!” But she heard her feet touch the ladder rungs anyway.

Catra offered Adora her hand on the top rung, which she took gratefully. The two of them stood together on the platform, in the exact spot where they’d spent so many hours as children. Catra inhaled, breathing in Adora’s sweet, familiar scent.

Adora stared out over the former Fright Zone, still wrapped around Catra. “The Light Zone is a good name,” she said finally.

Catra purred softly as she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s so much nicer now,” she marveled. “Scorpia did so well.”

Adora turned to look at her. “So did we,” she said, cupping her cheek. “We’ve rebuilt so much since the war ended seven years ago.”

Catra picked up on the double meaning of her words. “We have,” she said, pressing their foreheads together and smiling against her lips. Her heart pounded in her throat. This was the perfect moment.

Catra pulled back, just far enough to give her space to kneel. Quickly, she rehearsed her speech in her mind, She reached into her pocket and pulled the ring free from the leather pouch.

She began, “Hey, Adora—”

“Will you marry me?” blurted out Adora.

Catra’s jaw dropped. For a minute, she said nothing.

“I mean, you—you can say no,” Adora said hurriedly, clearly taking her silence as a bad sign. “I didn’t plan out an elaborate proposal or anything, I don’t even have a ring, but—”

“I have a ring!” said Catra, still shocked.

It was Adora’s turn to gape at her. “You—What?”

A grin split Catra ear to ear. “Yes, you idiot!” she exclaimed. “I was going to propose to you tonight—right now, actually! Glimmer and I have been planning this for months!”

Adora almost fell over laughing, clutching her stomach. “Wow,” she said, breathless, “we make quite a pair.”

“We do,” said Catra, throwing her arms around her neck and kissing her passionately.

“I love you,” Adora told her, her words slightly muffled against her lips.

Catra got down on one knee and held out the ring in her palm for real. “Adora,” she said, ignoring the happy tears that pricked the corner of her eyes, “will you marry me?”

Adora knelt down so they were level. “Yes,” she breathed out. “A million times, yes.”

[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Fool For You (2/4)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader 

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Part 2 of a request for @mynameisliterallycash!

When Lester said he was getting dog food, you figured he meant one or two small bags. Instead, you watched as he hefted two huge bulk bags of food over his shoulder. They each had to weigh around fifty pounds and he carried them like they were nothing. Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped, awestruck by the casual display of muscle.

Dazed still, you trailed after him to the checkout. While he made idle chatter with the clerk, he was completely unaware you were wrapped up in an entirely different check out of your own. Heat rose to your cheeks, allured by Lester’s physical strength as daydreams of him literally sweeping you off your feet flooded your thoughts. He turned around, snapping you back to reality as you tried to wipe the dopey expression off your face.

“Alright then, ya ready to –” Lester stopped short, sending you a puzzled look, “Hey are ya okay?”

“What? Of course, I am. Why are you asking?” you responded rapidly, embarrassed you’d been caught staring a third time.

“Ya sure? Ya look a little red. Ya ain’t gettin’ sick or nothin’, are ya?” Lester said concerned. He reached out his free hand and pressed its back against your forehead, “Don’t feel like ya got a fever.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stuttered, his hand against your head sending static through your brain as you tried to come up with an excuse, “It’s just from the cold air today, I think.”  

“Okay, if ya say so.” Lester shrugged as he gestured for you to follow him out the door. You cleared your throat, thankful for the gust of wind that cooled the fire trapped in your face.  

“You sure you don’t need help with those?” you asked.  

“These? Nah, they ain’t so bad,” Lester responded, “You oughta see some of the bucks I gotta haul ‘round. Damn things weigh a ton! Nearly threw out my back once tryin’ to throw one on the truck.”

“Never knew you were a regular strongman. I guess it never occurred to me the deer can’t carry their own dead weight.” You said with growing admiration.

“That’s what I’m there for!” Lester said gleefully as he tossed the bags in the back. He closed the bed and rested against the truck as he crossed his arms.

“Well, thanks for taking me along for the ride, anyway.” You said, leaning next to him.

“Sure thing! I love bringin’ ya ‘long like this,” Lester told you, affectionately nudging you with his elbow, “I’ll tell ya, havin’ someone to talk to wouldn’t hurt during my day job neither. Might go a long way makin’ some of the time go by. Gets a little too quiet drivin’ ‘round all day all by myself.”

“Well, would you mind if I tagged along once in a while?” you proposed, looking up at him.

“Ya’d do that? I mean, ya’d really want to?” Lester asked excitedly, “It can get kinda gnarly.”

“Sure. Why not? Can’t be any gnarlier than Bo on a bad day. It’s got to be better than sitting around getting old in Ambrose.” You said, smiling back at him.

“Ya really don’t have to, if ya don’t want.” He said, giving you the option changing your mind.

“I know I don’t, but I would really like to go with you. That is, if you don’t mind.” You could practically see him vibrating with joy.

“Mind? Course I don’t mind! We’re gonna have so much fun together, I promise! Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!” he exclaimed, elated. He jumped up from the truck and wrapped you up in a tight hug, swinging you back and forth. You couldn’t contain you laughter, even if you couldn’t breathe with the way he was squeezing you.

Lester set you back down, leaving you with only a ghost of the feeling of his warm embrace. You lingered in place trying to memorize the sensation while he went ahead to open the passenger door for you without a second thought. Once you were seated, he closed the door and got back in beside you. He threw you a carefree smile as you took off once again.

The two of you made lighthearted conversation on the way back to Lester’s cabin. You started going back and forth about the art of catching various animals that try to make a home in your garbage. Well, it was mostly Lester walking you through the process, breaking it down by species. You listened to how he had basically mastered the art of pest wrangling without killing them. Your heart swelled hearing how insistent he was that killing them wasn’t necessary. He never wanted to hurt anyone or anything if he could help it.

You were just about to ask him a question, when he abruptly hit the brakes. You both lurched forward before falling back into your seats. You glanced around, collecting yourself from the sudden stop.

“Is everything okay? Why’d you stop?” He didn’t answer, as he began to carefully scan your surroundings, “What are you looking for? Lester?”  

“There she is!” Lester shouted, pressing his face up against his window, totally distracted from your questions. He smiled back at you over his shoulder, “Follow me!” He threw his door open without another word and jumped out, anxiously waiting for you to join him.

“Follow you where? Wait for me!” you called after him. You swiftly slid out of the car and onto the ground, clueless as to why you stopped here of all places. Lester darted ahead, chasing something you couldn’t see. You did your best to follow close, but he ducked down into the grass. You jogged to where he disappeared to find him on his knees, reveling in an assault of kisses from a delighted stray dog. Surprise took over your features, thrilled to be meeting a new friend.

“I missed ya too, girl!” Lester gasped through his uncontrollable laughter, echoing through the woods, “Ya been good a doggy? I bet ya have! Hope ya ain’t been too lonely out here!”

“Who’s this, Lester?” you asked in gentle voice, immediately enamored with the dog before you. She was about Jonesy’s size, with a blonde shaggy coat. She looked young with energy and enthusiasm that gave Lester a run for his money.

“Oh, Y/N! I’d like ya to meet Buttercup!” Lester said as he separated himself from the dog’s abundance of affection, “Buttercup, this is my friend Y/N!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Buttercup.” You said as you got down to offer your hand for a sniff. Buttercup took a few whiffs before deciding you were in fact a friend. Her tail wagged back and forth as she allowed you to pet her as well, “She’s so cute, Lester!”

“I know! Ain’t she the sweetest?” Lester concurred, “I found her snoozin’ in a patch of buttercups, so that’s what I started callin’ her!”

“How long has she been here?” you asked, scratching Buttercup behind the ears as she jumped up to rest her front paws on Lester’s shoulders, licking his face once more.

“A while now, I see a few strays runnin’ ‘round while I’m workin’. So, I try and visit with ‘em, if I can. But I left some bowls to fill when I’m on my route, case they get hungry.” Lester managed to gesture to an empty bowl a few feet away from you despite being smothered by more kisses. That explained the industrial sized bags of food. “Speaking of which – you hungry, Buttercup?” she barked in response.

Lester grabbed the bowl and jogged back to the truck to fill it with Buttercup in tow. Your eyes followed after him, the dopey look returning to your face. He conversed with Buttercup like an old friend as he scooped out her food. He was so attentive and kind, listening to her response and matching her excitement. They made their way back to you, thick as thieves. Lester set the bowl down when he made it back next to you, petting Buttercup while she dug into her meal, “Now, don’t eat so fast ya get sick, there’s plenty where that came from. Ole Lester’s got ya covered.”

You let out a deep sigh, endeared by the scene before you. Lester treated every person and creature with such consideration and care; and he never asked for anything in return. He had so much love in his heart and he was willing to share it with anyone who wanted it. With as much as he gives to everyone else, you wondered if anyone had ever told him how much they care about him or appreciate his presence in their life. He deserved to have someone who could give him back all the love he put into the world.

You wanted to be the one. You would finally treat him right. He all but stole your heart and he deserved to hear it from you, even if he might not feel the same. The consequences suddenly didn’t seem to matter so much in this moment. You wanted him to know how important he really was to you, because everyone deserves to know they are loved. You needed to tell him now while you were brave enough.

“Lester, there’s something I need to tell you.” You started, heartbeat racing in your ears, drowning out all the doubt and second thoughts. He perked up, listening close.

“Ya can tell me anythin’, Y/N. Ya know that.” Lester said softly, that warm smile pulling at your heartstrings again.

“Lester…I lo–” a deafening crack of thunder cut you off. With that, Buttercup hightailed it back into hiding. You gasped as you stood, starting after her, worried she may get lost or hurt in the impending storm. You moved to run after her, “Oh no, Buttercup, wait!”

“Hold up, Y/N! Ya can’t catch her, believe me, I tried.” Lester called to stop you, “I tried gettin’ her in the truck a few times to go to a shelter, but she don’t like it. If she ain’t ready to go, we can’t make her. She’ll come ‘round when she’s ready.”

“But we can’t just leave her out here.” You said, searching the area for any sign of her.

“Don’t worry ‘bout her too much, she’s a survivor.” Lester said, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “’Sides she’s got a little hideout not far from here. I found her there a couple times and left a few blankets after makin’ sure it wouldn’t cave in on her. It’ll keep her nice and dry ‘til this blows over. Alright? She’ll be safe, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, almost tearing up at the thought of her shivering somewhere all by herself.

“Sure as my name is Lester Sinclair. We can even come check on her tomorrow, if ya like.” Lester offered, “But we really oughta get outta here ‘fore the rain starts.”

“Okay,” you said hesitantly, “Promise we can check on her?”

“Yes ma’am, I swear. Cross my heart.” Lester assured you, drawing an X over his chest.

You both started toward the truck once more. You silently cursed the weather for interrupting your confession. The moment had passed and the doubts had returned to their work. Despite this, the affection swelling in your chest still pulled you to act on some part of it.

Without thinking too hard for once, you took Lester’s hand in yours. He glanced down to your linked hands and then back at you.

“Are ya scared of thunder storms?” He asked curiously.

“No. Why?” You responded, confused where he got that idea.

“Ya just look a little nervous is all. Thought ya might not like thunder or somethin’.” Lester explained, “I know storms used to scare the hell outta me when I was a kid. Never used to like ‘em one bit, ‘specially if I was by myself.”

“No, I kind of like storms.” You told him.

“Oh, then are your hands cold or somethin’?” Lester asked, gesturing with your connected hands, trying to understand the reason for the spontaneous handholding.

“Uh, well, not exac–”

“Cause ya look a little rosy again. Just makin’ sure ya ain’t gettin’ frostbite or nothin’.” He interjected.

“No, I’m okay.” You told him with your hundredth sigh of the day.

“Well, just in case. Take this.” He said as he released your hand and took off his hat to pull it over your eyes with a chuckle. He readjusted it on your head, revealing the way he was beaming at you. You rarely got to see him without his trusty hat. Even with his hair being a little sweaty and sticking every which way, it was still ridiculously tempting to run your fingers through. The energy radiating from him was so wholesome and pure. Looking at him, you could swear the clouds lifted and the sun was shining all of a sudden. He squeezed your cheeks in his hands, with a laugh, “There, now ain’t that better! Nice and toasty.”

“T-thanks, Les.” You stuttered, reaching up to feel the soft fabric of his hat, the heat in your cheeks only growing more intense under his hold on your face.

 “My pleasure! I gotta say ya look mighty cute right now. Helluva lot better than I ever looked.” He told you, releasing your face and patting you on the back, “Now, let’s make like Buttercup and get to shelter!”

You made it back to the truck right before the heavy rain started pouring down. Lester took off down the road again, toward his cabin. You watched through the window as the storm raged on outside, matching the storm in your mind. The time had felt so right to tell Lester everything, but now you weren’t sure. What you were sure of, however, is that you needed to tell him soon. You thought you might actually burst if you didn’t. You couldn’t keep living like this.      

[ofstoriesandstardust]

Champagne Problems-Diego Hargreeves

a/n: WHO’S READY FOR THE ANGST?! here we go lol. i’ve never written a song-inspired fic but here we are. this part 1 of of my 2 valentine’s day fics. the other is a cute luther fic and hopefully I’ll be able to write more umbrella academy so... NO I HAVE NOT FINISHED SEASON 2 DON’T COME FOR ME. i’m also totally willing to write a second part to this, especially after i hurt myself so bad so if it’s something you’re interested in, please let me know. listening to champagne problems during this is probably a good idea. this also exists minorly in my law and order: special victims unit x the umbrella academy universe but it’s really only slight mentions of ADA work, so no real connection. 

masterlist | prompt list

warnings: ANGST, Hazel, Agnes, and Eudora live and Ben comes back to life because I said so, post-Texas apocalypse but my own storyline because I haven’t finished season 2 yet, my own thoughts and feeling in the form of the main character, Ben’s secretly a history nerd, Tumblr fucked with my spacing and I’m salty

word count: 3,064 (including song lyrics)

You booked the night train for a reason

So you could sit there in this hurt

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers

You're not sure which is worse

-

You always opted to take the cases that kept you up the latest at night, working the hardest to get victims justice. You refused to sleep at night until you knew you’d be able to put a killer or rapist away the next day. Which, in turn, meant that there’d often be nights a detective would call in need of a warrant, already knowing you’d still be awake. However, there would be nights, weeks, even, where it was a small case or no cases at all. Those were the days you’d busy yourself in the office until you had no other reason to be there, finding the later you took the subway home, the fewer people there would be. Usually, the quiet of the night calmed you and gave you time to reflect. Sometimes though, your mind would wander to him.

-

Because I dropped your hand while dancing

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing

Champagne problems

-

Diego had taken you on a drive, bringing you to the city of Manhattan. You always spoke of your love of the city, missing your time spent there while in law school. The two of you had gone for a walk and picnic through Central Park and as the sun was beginning to set, leaving the New York sky a dusty pink, he grabbed your hand as you talked about your favorite memory at the Chinese place just down the road. You paused, looking up at him, seeing the love for swimming within his features. After that night, you had grown to hate the sight of Central Park and avoided it by all means necessary. Your team had never been able to figure out why.

-

Your mom's ring in your pocket

My picture in your wallet

-

Although never actually married to Reginald, and despite the fact that she was an AI, Grace had a wedding band she kept tucked away. When Diego had introduced you to Grace, he knew that you would be the one he’d marry. You were so kind to the AI, not batting an eyelash at her charging port or her sometimes distant nature. She was Diego’s mom by all accounts, and he’d be damned if he was going to live the rest of his life with a girl who didn’t respect his mother. Despite Diego’s fear, you and the AI got on splendidly and at the end of the night, when you were talking to Pogo, Grace brought the boy upstairs and slipped him the small band. She smiled at him and Diego had to restrain himself from crushing the sweet women in a hug. “Just in case.” she had said.

-

Your heart was glass, I dropped it

Champagne problems

-

Diego had tried from the very beginning to be honest with you that he came with a lot of issues. Building trust had been difficult and a fragile process. You had been patient and kind and understanding and everything he was certain he didn’t deserve. Diego slowly learned to let his walls and heart open to you and by the end of it, Diego believed that you had melted his heart of ice and worked your way into his life and family. Until you turned away, dropping the ice heart, shattering it.

-

You told your family for a reason

You couldn't keep it in

-

When you and Diego had first met, it had been purely by accident. You were just moving into the apartment across the hall from Vanya’s and he had come barreling down the stairs after Five. After knocking you and one too many boxes to the ground, Diego profusely apologized, concerned eyes flitting across you to make sure that you indeed weren’t hurt. He had offered to help you finish moving your belongings, wanting a few more minutes with the pretty girl on the stairs. You agreed and asked if he would be interested in grabbing dinner with you that night since you didn’t know anywhere in town. He agreed and the two of you had always considered that your unofficial first date. As the two of you grew closer and Diego’s family became interested in the mysterious ADA with whom he spent all his time, the more determined Diego became to shelter you from them. His family came with a lot of baggage, a lot of trouble, and you had enough just trying to put the bad guys away. But as he became more certain he wanted you in his life for a long time, the more he knew he wanted to tell his siblings. After the apocalypse, he and his siblings had tried to repair the broken bridges and had been successful for the most part. So, one night, at family dinner, he looked around at his siblings, laughing at some witty comment Five had made, and he blurted it out before he could stop himself. The siblings went quiet, looking over at him. You had just met Grace a few days ago, and he was sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. “I think I’m going to marry her.”

-

Your sister splashed out on the bottle

Now no one's celebrating

-

Allison had been the most excited, wanting to plan an elaborate engagement scheme, wanted to help him pick out the ring. He let her too, unsure of really what to do, and was happy to see her so excited about something. She had convinced Diego to introduce you to her and Vanya, wanting to get to know you, to accurately help Diego (and of course to get to know her future sister-in-law, with whom she was determined to be best friends). As the date that they had settled on drew nearer, she bought an expensive bottle of champagne, stating that only the finest would do for her brother’s engagement. Diego rolled his eyes, but deep down he appreciated that she cared about him this much to help him. When Diego returned to the Academy that night, unannounced and much later than originally intended, Allison immediately knew something was wrong. The siblings looked around at each other, in shock and disbelief. No one had really thought you’d say no.

-

Dom Pérignon, you brought it

No crowd of friends applauded

-

You weren’t sure why Diego brought the bottle of champagne with him, and he wasn’t sure either, both knowing you didn’t drink. As you stared at him, and he stared at you, hurt flickering across the other’s face, all Diego could focus on was the fact that he brought that stupid bottle of champagne. Why had he listened to Allison, or Vanya, or any of the Hargreeves for that matter? Diego was not meant to get a happy ending, he was sure of it. And he had gone and tempted fate and had gotten the heart-breaking answer he knew all along.

-

Your hometown skeptics called it

Champagne problems

-

The Hargreeves had taken Diego out to Griddy’s that night, not sure what else to do with him. Hazel and Agnes looked at him, pity in their eyes. The police chief of the town was there, the one who had despised Diego entirely and was entirely infuriated when he had found out his favorite ADA was “messing around” with the disgraced ex-police officer-turned-vigilante. He looked at the pity party that seemed to be happening in honor of Diego and laughed. “She always was too good for you. Glad she finally realized it.”

-

You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn't give a reason

-

Diego had a speech, he had. He’d prepared it with Grace and Allison and had practiced it a million times over, to make sure he wouldn’t stutter. Klaus and Ben had listened patiently, giving him pointers and Vanya had even helped him rewrite it when he thought it wasn’t conveying what he wanted to say. And yet, as he looked at you, he couldn’t think of a single word of it. He was nervous, sure, but he was so consumed by the love he felt for you, that he just blurted out, “Wanna get married?”. He offered wondered if he had given you a speech, told you how much he loved you, why he loved you, if you’d still be with him.  

-

Champagne problems

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

-

Diego had been so nervous bringing you to the Academy to meet his siblings. He wasn’t sure how’d you react to the dysfunction of his family and he was terrified in anticipation of what the siblings might say or do that would scare you off. Luckily, you and Klaus had immediately become attached at the hip and you were already familiar with Vanya. Luthor and Five had been cold at first, waiting to see if they were up to their standards and if you had ulterior motives with Diego. You, of course, passed with flying colors and by the end of the night, you had them laughing and sharing embarrassing stories of Diego. Allison was enthused and happy to welcome you to the family. Ben had engaged you in a deep conversation about the legacy of ancient civilizations long after anyone else cared to listen or contribute. Still, Diego had been nervous it was all a front as to not have the dinner be awkward and uncomfortable. As he drove back to your (unofficially shared) apartment, he had joked that his house was a madhouse. You had seen right through him, knowing he was trying to apologize for the chaos that is his family and that is, well, Klaus. You had laughed and told him that if you could survive in your madhouse of a family, you could survive in his too.

-

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

-

As Diego looked back on your relationship, he looked for signs that you were unhappy, or wanting to leave. He was unable to come up with any, with the exception of one. You and Diego never fought. It couldn’t have been healthy but there was… never anything to fight about. You were both okay with the other’s line of work, and while not perfect, Diego was learning to be open and honest with you about what he needed from the relationship and you had always been so receptive to that. Ben had once joked that he hadn’t seen plants so evergreen as your relationship. You had laughed and Diego smiled, happy he had someone that was so easy to be with after all the hardship he’d experienced in his life. Now all Diego could do was look back on that memory with the bitter taste of regret.

-

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

-

Christmas had been your favorite holiday ever since you were a child. As you had gotten older, the excitement faded, but the cheer and happiness that came from watching old Christmas films and dancing to songs in your kitchen as you baked cookies found its way into your heart without fail every year. So, when the first Christmas with Diego came around, you had cautiously asked him if he’d like to celebrate it with you. Diego tried not to speak too much on Reginald, and from what you knew about the man, Christmas didn’t seem like something that was being celebrated at the Umbrella Academy. Diego had shrugged, saying he didn’t really know what Christmas was about to know if he’d enjoy celebrating it or not. Thus, you had taken Diego to look at lights and watched all your favorite Christmas movies as a child and listened to songs while baking family recipes and he had even helped you decorate the apartment. By the time Christmas rolled around, Diego had started to understand why you cherished the holiday so much. But waking up the morning of Christmas to gifts you had picked out for him, one making up for every year he lost out on what Christmas was supposed to be like, he felt his heart growing three sizes more, like the Grinch from the night before. Diego had never felt a love as pure when he looked at you.

The next year had been no different, just on a larger scale as the whole Hargreeves clan joined in this time. That year, Christmas morning found the Hargreeves boys whisper-yelling at Diego about how he had found the perfect woman as they woke to an abundant amount of gifts under the tree. You dragged Vanya and Allison down the stairs, insisting the family had to open presents together. Klaus had insisted he act as Santa, stating the real Santa should get to sit with her boyfriend. You hadn’t protested, seeing how much a kick he got out of the hat and curled up into Diego as he sat with his back against the arm of the couch. Diego ran his fingers through your hair, and you laid your head against his chest. Luther, wide-eyed, asked you how you were able to pay for all of it. You had shrugged and stated that being an ADA paid you a much larger salary than you knew what to do with and moving out of Manhattan meant a lot less on rent. When Vanya asked why you’d bother spending all that money on them, your response had ensured to Diego that he’d found the right one. “Well, you guys are like family to me. And you never got the Christmases I grew up with and it’s all about making other people happy. I wanted to give you back the Christmas you never had.”

As he looked around at the decorated Academy this year, Klaus and Ben insisting on continuing the tradition you left behind, Diego just felt an overwhelming sense of hatred of the colors and lights. All just painful reminders of what he lost. Of the girl who left.

-

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready, so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

-

Luther was the only one who could never quite believe you were with Diego totally and completely. Maybe the misgivings came from his strained relationship with the second Hargreeves boy but he always believed you were in it for one of two reasons. Either the money that came with Hargreeves fortune or the fame that came with the Hargreeves name. Of course, Luther wasn’t you, and would never understand the real reason you had said…

“No.” Diego looked at you, hand on his pocket, ready to give you Grace’s ring, unsure if his fear was playing tricks with his head. You shook your head, “No, Diego. I’m sorry.” When those words had left Diego’s mouth, your heart had stopped. You loved Diego, more than anything you had ever known, but the untold horrors of your life before Diego came rushing to the surface and began to choke you. How could you marry Diego when you couldn’t disclose the worst moments of your life to him for fear of being a burden on the already broken boy? You realized at that moment, you could be everything Diego needed, but you would never allow Diego to be everything you needed, setting your relationship hurtling for sure-fire failure. You gasped, the tears threatening to render you breathless. “Diego, I-” And in a moment of pure, blind panic, you grabbed your things and ran, leaving the boy devastated behind you.

-

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's fucked in her head, " they said

-

A few weeks after that night, Diego found himself alone at the Academy with Five. The two of them were sitting at the bar, not saying much. Finally, Five put his drink down on the table and looked at Diego. “I am really sorry about her, Diego.” Diego looked up at Five. “It’s a shame she’s got too many issues up here,” he said, tapping his head, “to give you what you wanted. She was one-of-a-kind.”

“What are you talking about Five?” Diego questioned, mildly annoyed Five brought you up.

“Did she give you a reason why, Diego?” Number 2 shook his head. “She always seemed to have her own issues, her own baggage, she was never willing to discuss. Maybe her issues with marriage was one of them.”

“That’s ridiculous Five, she would’ve told me.” Diego said, taking a sip of his drink. But as he thought about it, the more he wondered if Five was right. You had told him about your less-than-ideal relationship with your family and disclosed the fact that you didn’t drink due to a genetic predisposition of being an alcoholic, but he had always sensed there was something more you wouldn’t share.

-

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

And hold your hand while dancing

-

One night, he ran into Eudora at Griddy’s making a midnight waffle run for the family. She told him she had heard about the failed proposal and that if he ever wanted or needed to talk, she’d be there. He called her a few days later, and the two of them met up at a bar for a few drinks. He told her about you and that night, and as Diego talked about it, he realized that pain subsided. The outings to the bar became weekly occurrences and he found himself enjoying the company and comfort Eudora offered. And as Eudora found her way back into his life, as time went on, Diego realized he thought of you less and less.

-

Never leave you standing

Crestfallen on the landing

With champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket

Her picture in your wallet

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

[monaownsmyass]

A Rant about Chapter 11 (From a Zoey Stan)

Disclaimer: I talk about the racism in this chapter which might be triggering for some. I’m also not black and don’t intend on talking over black people so if anything I say comes across that way, I apologise in advance and pls feel free to correct me.

PB

Ever since day one, Zoey was treated like crap. We barely had any other interactions with her besides talking about Kingsley and her give us clothes. Zoey, despite being a confirmed LI, didn’t even have her own diamond scene until chapter 10, much later than when even Poppy, who’s not an LI, got a diamond scene.

But this is the breaking point. How tf are you gonna sideline a confirmed LI and then insert her into the bigger picture only to embarrass her, destroy her reputation, make her a laughing stock and make her publicly humiliated and not call it mistreatment??? To top it off, she’s also a black wlw. How anyone can victim blame Zoey here is beyond me.

For the benefit of the doubt, at first I thought PB was just clueless about what they did and didn’t realise it (it comes across that way in multiple books) but then, then they go ahead and put this in...

So you’re telling me, you’re fucking telling me that they knew how racist this sounded and still fucking went along with it??? If they were gonna make a subplot about how she got racially profiled, fine, good job, you know what the sad reality is like for black people. But to get publicly humiliated and embarrassed for it? That’s fucking RACIST! Idk how you’re gonna justify this when it’s clearly unjustifiable. I bet PB added that dialogue to show how woke they are but congrats, somehow you managed to do the complete opposite.

Poppy

Now let’s talk about Poppy. PB honestly never ceases to amaze me. They took a very complex character with depth and a lot of potential and just chucked all of that out of the window. It’s beyond salvageable at this point. And to make matters worse? The way PB wrote Poppy in that animal shelter scene (where we see a more vulnerable side to her) seems to be hinting at a redemption arc for her. I would’ve been all for it if this hadn’t happen. After this, there’s no way to save her character, I’m sorry but I can’t see it.

Going into detail now, I just wanna say, what. the. actual. fuck. I don’t even know where to start. Actually, I do, let’s take a look at how sad and pathetic this sounds:

Regardless of race, this shit is beyond messed up. But the fact that PB actually acknowledges it was about her race (as shown earlier), makes it baffling. I genuinely don’t understand how they didn’t see this as a problem. The way Poppy went after Zoey for absolutely no reason whatsoever makes it obvious that this is no longer a self-defence mechanism she uses for coping, this is cruelty.

And then we have the whole calling Zoey a ‘human sacrifice’. They do not only mention this once but MULTIPLE times. Poppy even labelled her folder as it. This made me the most upset. Getting a little historically literal here, actual human sacrifices were normally slaves, outcasts and criminals. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory why this was very wrong.

Zetas and Alphas

What a bunch of self-entitled, self-absorbed, low-life pricks that put others down to make themselves feel better.

So public humiliation wasn’t enough for poor Zoey apparently. She now has to endure tomatoes and wine thrown at her. Y’know how this entire scene reads and comes across as? A criminal getting stoned for their crimes. She was a young girl who was pressured into shoplifting by her peers and she was the only one that got caught cuz of her race. Need I say more? I will, that’s fucking RACIST!

Mc

MC is a little complicated for me. In my playthrough, I chose the good girl route and so my MC wasn’t as harsh as I’d assume the bad girl MC would be. I’m not excusing what she did because it was still wrong of her. She should’ve immediately gone to save Zoey. I’m just upset in a book called Choices, we couldn’t even choose between exposing Poppy’s credit cards and saving Zoey.

We’re always given the least important choices and we’re always asking for PB to give us choices that actually matter. This would’ve been the perfect opportunity. I’m playing as black!MC and even though I chose the good girl route, it still felt really... off. I can’t imagine how much worse it would be if players were playing the bad girl route with a PoC character especially if they’re playing as black!MC.

Zoey

Zoey. Poor Zoey deserves so much better. Fuck Poppy and the Zetas and even MC. The image of Zoey covered in tomatoes was so heart-breaking. MC’s convo with her... ugh.

If PB did anything right, it was making Zoey mad. She was right to be angry at MC (regardless if we took the good or bad girl route) and leave the posse. MC doesn’t deserve her. And to people saying Zoey should have known, it doesn’t matter! People are literally throwing things and publicly humiliating her so no it doesn’t matter if she should’ve known better. They shouldn’t have done that!!

I’m so fed up with PB sidelining and mistreating her and most female LIs and it’s even more disappointing that this is still happening after PB released their statement saying they’ll improve.

Idk how they messed up this badly after everything that’s happened, after all of our complaints and suggestions on how to improve. I just want to see Zoey thrive after this, with or without MC. It’s the least PB could do for her.