#don’t mind the morning angsting on your dash I just need to put this somewhere

[amive2567]

Shalom! Can I please order a ☕️🧋With Sick Dabi? Thanks!

Ingredients: Sick Dabi x Reader (they/them)

Contains: breakups, minor violence (no one gets really hurt), hurtful words, swearing, arguments, Dabi is sick, ungretfulness,

Summary: Dabi is sick, but what if his ungratefulness takes the most precious thing from him?

Words: 1626

Type of order: Cupcake (Oneshot), coffee (angst), Bubble tea (request)

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much for your order. I hope it's to your liking. The sickness got a bit forgotten towards the end, but I hope you still like it. 💕

The day at work was stressful. Customers were storming in and out, you had barely any break. You simply wanted to come home, eat something from your favorite delivery service, and perhaps cuddle on the couch with Dabi while watching a movie. Of course, if he sneaked into your flat.

You turn your key in the lock to finally enter your home. “Argh, finally.” you groaned as you got rid of your shoes. The house was quiet, just how you liked it. You placed your keys in your gorgeous key bowl, which Dabi created for your first anniversary. You approached the living room with delicate steps, not expecting to see him, yet there he was. His black hair adhered to his sweaty forehead. Every now and then a whine fell from his lips. You were beyond worried, never in your entire relationship was Dabi sick. Not even after you both dashed home in the pouring rain in the dead of winter. You approached your boyfriend with quiet steps. With a gentle movement, you laid your hand on his forehead to feel if he has a fever. Just as you thought, he was boiling.

Dabi grabbed your arm and yanked it from his brow in a split second. “Leave me alone,” he growled, visibly annoyed. “Ok, I will prepare some soup for you,” you whispered. You attempted to kiss him on his hot cheeks, but he just turned around. Well, he was annoyed by his sickness, so you didn't pay any mind to it. He just had a bad time now, it will be better if he rested enough and ate something. The kitchen was still a mess from breakfast this morning, you had to leave in a rush and Dabi headed to somewhere you didn’t know. Before you could prepare the soup you had to clean this mess. Good for Dabi so he could rest even more. With a faint smile on your lips, you cleaned the dishes, the counters and prepared the ingredients.

After some hours the soup was finally finished. You put all your love and heart into it, you hoped that Dabi loved this soup. He always adores your cooking, so why shouldn’t he? Finishing the last decorative elements, in the form of chopped seaweed, you put the bowl of soup and a glass of water on a tray, which was usually used for breakfast in bed. “Dabs, I am finished. Do you want to try a bit? Maybe it will help.” you asked calmly. He growled. You weren’t sure what this meant so you asked again. “Do you want to try my soup?” “Fuck off Y/N. I don’t need your stupid soup. I don’t need your help.” he barked and slapped the tray out of your hold. The bowl fell loudly on the new gray carpet, and the hot soup splashed on your thighs. Burning pain made you gasp, but you ignored it. The shock of his words hurt more than the hot soup per se. “I will get something to clean up,” you mumbled quietly.

You vanished into the bathroom and got some towels from the cupboard. As you wanted to enter the living room your steps came to a hold. Dabi was talking with someone. His voice was not as deep as always, because of his sniff, but he still sounded angry and annoyed. “Shiggy, you won’t believe it. They made me a soup. It probably tastes like piss, like all their cooking. They are so useless. This stupid behavior really pisses me off. It's so annoying. I need to hang up, Y/N is probably almost back to clean their mess, they are useless as I said. See ya.”

Tears were running down your cheeks. You could barely manage to hold your cries. You were already insecure so why did he have to bash on it? Why all of the sudden? Have you done something wrong? Did he only use you? You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down, even though you were boiling with hurt and anger. With a swift movement, you wiped your tears away. You entered the living room.

Dabi just put his phone away, as you entered. “Can I ask you something?” you whispered, attempting not to anger him even more. “You already did.” He snorted and rolled his eyes. “What did I do to you, to make you so angry?” You quickly got up and walked to the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow behind your back. “Are you stupid? You are just an annoyance, you are useless and just utterly stupid. I don’t need someone like you in my life. You’re selfish and only do something for me when you feel like it, not when I need it. This whole relationship is just for my benefit. I used you, you stupid girl.” His smoky voice grew louder with every word. And with his words came new tears. They were now running down your cheeks like little rivers, your voice shivered as you answered. “Get out, I don’t want to see you ever again. How could you just act like you love me and give me such lovely gifts? You faked it all. You asshole. You're dead to me.” You hit Dabi with the towel you used to wipe up the soup. With each punch, your insults to him grew louder. Dabi was used to worse, so he just stood there and waited until you were exhausted. “I am going then,'' he said nonchalantly, like nothing of this argument mattered to him.

As the door closed with a loud thud, you broke down. Tears of rage and despair streamed down your chin and dropped on the slanted floor. The pain inside of your chest was unbearable. All of those years, for nothing. Every “I love you” was fake. Every breakfast in bed was fake. Every date you both went on was fake. He only used you, like some doll. Just like he always had called you. You slammed your fist into the ground until the skin of your knuckles grew bloody. The pain and betrayal you felt couldn't be formed into words. It just felt as if someone had ripped your kind and loving heart out.

At the same time, Dabi tried to get himself down the stairs, but due to his sickness, he had to sit down in front of your door. The apartment building was cold, not like your cozy apartment. He hated himself for his stupid words, nothing of it was true, but his insecurities got the better of him. “Damn it,” he swore loudly. You were just too good for him, too kind, and way too great, but he didn’t want you to be involved in his criminal actions. His head began to spin as he continued to curse himself. Before he passed out he typed Shigaraki a short message. “Don’t need to get me, I'll stay.” After he pressed on ‘sent’ the world grew dark around him.

The next morning you awoke in the middle of the kitchen. The whole crying got you so tired that you passed out on the cold floor. You felt as if you hadn’t slept at all, besides that your back was also hurting. With a deep breath, you started your horrible day. The pain of yesterday was still too present. You got dressed in your sports clothes as you wanted to go jogging, to forget this horrible feeling. But as you opened your front door, the sleeping Dabi fell onto your feet. Even though you wanted to be angry at him and ignore him, your pity for him was bigger. You wanted to kick your ass, for your next move. With a gentle pat on his head, you woke him up. “Dabi, get in my flat and sleep there. It’s more comfortable.” He looked up at you with tired eyes. “Mhm.” he only grumbled, as he got up.

Without a word, he entered your flat. You snort but follow him back inside. As you closed the door, Dabi finally spoke up. “I am deeply sorry about yesterday,” he mumbled. You crossed your arms above your chest and raised an eyebrow. “I won’t accept your apology. What you said yesterday really hurt my feelings and at the moment I am too angry at you to believe you. You said you used me, how could I trust you with your words now.” you said coldly. He nodded sadly. Well, he knew that you wouldn’t believe his apology. “Please let Shigaraki take care of you and leave. We need a break. First I have to build up trust again. I loved you, really, but you hurt me too much to let you stay in my life at the moment. Maybe we will get back together and if not then not.” Your voice shivered, but you didn’t want to cry about it now. Dabi only nodded and went straight to the door, but before he left he said something that made you regret your choice. “To be honest, all of it was a lie. I would never use you. I love you way too much, to ever betray you, but I am not a good person. You shouldn’t be involved in my crimes. I somehow wanted to protect the most precious thing in my life by destroying it completely. I knew that this would be a decision that would destroy my life, but t’s better that you are safe now instead of me being selfish. I will always love you, no matter what. I hope you will have a good time. I hope we will meet again.” He left your flat and took your heart with him. He would always be your first and last love.

[uwuwriting]

Soulmates w/ Dabi, Shirakumo and Keigo

Request: Hello! I just read a few of your writings &I'd just like to say they're amazing! Anyways, may I request some hc's for a soulmate AU w/ Dabi, Shirakumo, & Hawks?(all separate)- anonymous

Soulmate Aus have a shit ton of tropes so I went for a different trope on each boy bc I love them all. My man Dabi has dipped the last few chapters and I’m getting kinda deprived, although I appreciate him not burning my baby Shoto to a crisp so we good. Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: angst with some fluff

 Dabi/Todoroki Touya II Interchangeable eye color

-Dabi’s outlook on love is really negative. 

-Growing up the way he did and in the environment he did, the possibilities in him believing or cherishing love and soulmates was low. 

-When he got his soulmate sign he was around 12. 

-It was the darkest moments of his life and he hated himself to no end. 

-When he woke up on that fateful Sunday morning he thought that he was hallucinating. 

-Then he imagined that this could be an after affect of his trauma, just like his hair. 

-His mind though drifted to his soulmate. 

 -He didn’t have a mark up until now and your eye color changing was one of the many soulmate signs out there. 

-As he stared at his left eye, the e/c orb staring back at him, he began to cry. 

-Sobs wracked his body as he clutched his eye. 

-This was unfair. 

-He shouldn’t have a soulmate, what good could he be to anyone?

-He is a failure and he is gonna bring down his soulmate as well. 

-So he hides it. 

-Puts a patch over his eye to conceal the new color blooming around his iris and when his family starts questioning it he buys contacts. 

-Natsuo helps him even though he doesn’t understand why his brother doesn’t want a soulmate. 

-Years pass until he finally meets the person that has changed his life. 

-Shigaraki was being a brat as usual, whining about needing new members for his little group. 

-Dabi couldn’t care less.

-This  whole charade with these losers would only aid him reach his ultimate goal. 

-He didn’t care about Shigaraki’s shitty ideologies and otherworldly desires, he just wanted his revenge. 

-His eyes scanned the so-called hide out in utter boredom, his gaze landing once again at the bar’s door left slightly ajar in case someone came looking. 

-He didn’t expect for the door to open though. 

-And as the grease old door creaked open a figure stepped into the room, clad in black from head to toe. 

-A mask was covering half of your face leaving only your eyes visible. 

-You scanned the place before your eyes landed swiftly on him, knocking the breath out of him as you locked gazes, e/c orbs baring into his own. 

-The vibrant blue on your left eye had him gasping for air. 

-It was stunning. 

-You moved to talk to Shigaraki, your voice albeit monotone and cold, sent tingles up his spine making his hairs stand at attention. 

-His eyes were glued on you, one of his hands subconsciously going to the left side of his face where his mark should be visible.

-It felt as if his contact burned his eye and he quickly took it off, not minding about possible infections since he didn’t wash his hands before touching his eYE DAMMIT YA NASTY AF. 

-His body was drawn to you, his mind screaming at him to talk to you to go close to you. 

-You knew he was your soulmate. 

-You had known the moment you stepped into the bar; no one had such a beautiful blue hue in their eyes other than your soulmate. 

-Despite your mutual desire to be close to each other you  held off for months. 

-Months of keeping distance, months of giving each other the cold shoulder. 

-It would all reach a tipping point soon and Dabi would finally understand what it’s like to truly love someone. 

-Until then though, suffer in your mutual pining. 

Shirakumo Oboro II Red string of Fate

-The string around his pinky finger always lay motionless for years. 

-It was slack and lifeless, no sign of his soulmate being remotely alive. 

-It really worried him, he thought that he might be one of the few unfortunate individuals who didn’t have a soulmate. 

-He talked to his friends about it and they all reassured him that his soulmate was just too far away from him so even if they tugged at the string he wouldn’t be able to feel it. 

-This reassured him all throughout middle school. 

-He started getting a little discouraged when he saw all his classmates getting their soulmate signs whether it be names tattooed on their wrists, one of their eyes changing color or a strand of their hair, other could hear faint music if they concentrated hard enough while others were unfortunate enough to feel their soulmate’s pain. 

-Shirakumo was left staring at the red string surrounding his finger. 

-He had thought about tugging at it, making the first step instead of waiting for the person on the receiving end.  

-But on this day, the day when both Aizawa and Hizashi got their respective signs he found himself tugging at the string. 

-At first he pulled lightly watching the string grow taught slowly and then go slack again. 

-He waited for what felt like a century before tugging again and again, more force being put in his pulls every time. 

-After an hour of waiting and tugging he was done. 

-Eyes downcast with a frown on his lips, he was ready to let this whole soulmate thing go. 

-At the end of the day he doesn’t need the universe to tell him who he should fall in love with; who he is destined to be with. 

-Then he felt it. 

-The lightest tug at his finger. 

-His eyes followed the red string as it straightened a few times before going limb again. 

-Aizawa walked in on him pulling the string like crazy, excited giggles leaving his lips when his soulmate responded with their own pulls. 

- “Shota I did it. T-they answered!”

-This whole string communication business lasted until the first day of high school. 

-As Oboro walked through the halls of UA he felt the string shift on his finger. 

-It was as if it was wrapping tighter around his finger, almost to the point that it hurt. 

-Maybe he was about to meet his soulmate that’s why the string was thinning. 

-Wait, meet them??

-He wasn’t ready to meet them!!!

-What if they didn’t like him? What if his hair was a bit too cloudy for their likes? Oh god his hair must be a mess because he flew here. Maybe he can dash into one of the bathrooms and fix it real quick. Will he be too loud for them? What-

-Lost in his own thoughts he completely missed the person standing in front of him and soon he was crashing into them, a small grunt leaving his lips as he maneuvered himself to cushion their fall. 

- “Oh God I’m so sorry, I was totally zoned out. Are you alright?” 

- “Why are you apologizing? I ran into you.” 

-He let out a chuckle as you scrambled off of him, dusting off your skirt before offering him a hand. 

-As he took it he felt his pinky being released from the pressure. 

-Right before your eyes you witnessed the red string that connected you both unwrap for your fingers, illuminating for a moment before completely disappearing leaving a sense of familiarity and warmth in its wake. 

-You both stared wide eyed at each other before awkwardly introducing yourselves. 

-It didn’t take long for you two to actually fall in love and if you’re being honest it’s was so easy to fall for him that you believed that even if you weren’t soulmates you would have loved him. 

-Even after years, even after that fateful summer, the sense of his presence and his warmth never left you; it was as if he wasn’t gone and he was still somewhere out there. 

-You were half wrong in that one….I think. 

Takami Keigo/Hawks II Name tattoos

-He got his tattoo when he was 13. 

-It had really awful timing if he was being honest. 

-The hero commission was isolating him completely, even from the few friends he had made around the facility he trained in.

-He couldn’t even begin to imagine what they might do if they find out he had a soulmate. 

-He truly wished he had a different soulmate sign or no soulmate at all. 

-He did everything in his willpower to hide the calligraphy of your name on his left wrist. 

-Bandaging it up, covering it with a watch even scribbling over it like he used to do when he was 9 and bored. 

-But at some point it became harder to hide it, harder to conceal the beautiful name that was printed on his wrist. 

-So he confided in someone. 

-One of the caretakers at the commission had taken him under their wing ever since he was a wittle toddler, he trusted them with his life. 

-When he approached them frantically grasping his wrist in attempts to hide the letters, they were both delighted and saddened. 

-It was nice knowing that this poor child had someone out there that was meant for him and would make him happy, replace every single one of these awful memories with new ones.

-Memories he would like looking back to. 

-But just like Hawks himself they knew that the commission wouldn’t allow this person to get involved with him, at any costs and they knew how far these people could go in order to guarantee Hawks’s undivided concentration. 

-So they helped him; they bought him some make up to cover it up and taught him how to apply it correctly. 

-By the time he was out of the hands of the commission *at least not in close reach* no one apart from them knew of his soulmate’s name. 

- “Now listen here Keigo, I want you to take good care of them when you finally meet them. And never forget that you deserve nice things, don’t let anyone take your happiness away.” 

-He did find his happiness. 

-It didn’t happen right away but it did come sooner than he expected. 

-He had learned about the new transfer student who began attending UA in the middle of the year. 

-He never heard their name but he knew they existed. 

-Turns out they were quirkless but were determined to become a hero despite their shortcomings. 

-After a few months he bumped into them and oh lord his wings have never been puffier. 

-He was  relaxing on the roof, away from prying eyes and loud people, just him and the birds *he found his people at last*.

-When he heard the door open he almost leaped off the building but paused at the sound of a soft voice. 

- “Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t know someone was up here.” 

-Turning around he came face to face with the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes upon. 

-For the first time in his life he stumbled over his words, a swift ‘It’s alright’ escaping his lips and before he knew what he was doing he was inviting you to sit with him. 

- “Wow you can see everything from here.” 

- “The view is better up in the sky if you ask me.”

-After a long pause he added. “I could show you if you want.” 

- “How can I trust you? Hmmm?” you teased. “I don’t even know your name.” 

-He let out a chuckle before continuing. “Could say the same for you but since I’m a gentleman I will grace you with my name. I’m Keigo Takami or Hawks if you wanna go with my hero persona.” 

-He saw your eyes widen as you stared at him, your eyes darting to his covered wrists. 

-Quickly you composed yourself straightening your shirt and extending your hand, the black letters of his name delicately engraved on your smooth skin. 

- “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N L/N.”  

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​ @storage11037​ @ezoyscorner​ @letscheereachotheron​ @wolfkid22​ @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses​ @threeamwriting​ @ysatrap​ @yashinosakura @belladonna-coven @angel6786​

[babymetaldoll]

Don’t be a d!ck (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes! :) Spencer is jealous when he sees a picture of a dick on his girlfriend's phone

Summary: Spencer Reid can't believe it when he finds something shocking in his girlfriend's phone. And, of course, instead of asking her about it, he spends a whole day overthinking everything.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Category: Fluff with mentions of sex and maybe a dash of angst. How would you call that? Flmut? smuff? flangut?

Warnings: Spencer being passive-aggressive. Sex references, cursing as always.

Word count: 2,3K

A/N: I loved this request so much!! hope you like it @meowiemari​

- "Pumpkin! have you seen my phone?"- Spencer asked his girlfriend after looking for it in every corner of their apartment, not finding it.

- "No, Honey! Did you look in your bag?"- she yelled from the bathroom, where she was getting ready to leave for work. The two of them worked together at the BAU, and they were late. There was no time for breakfast, just coffee... and finding Spencer's phone.

- "It's not there! can I use yours to call my phone?"

- "Sure! it's on my nightstand"

Spencer kept trying to remember where he had left his phone, but nothing came to mind because he usually didn't use it. He always kept it in his bag. Maybe someone had stolen it; they might have taken it from his bag. No, he had called his mother the night before, so he was sure it had to be somewhere in the house.

(Y/N)'s cellphone was precisely where she had said it was. He hated that. She always remembered where she had left her things. Spencer did too, but sometimes he was too concentrated reading a book. Or rambling about anything... or kissing (Y/N). Those things made him forget where the unimportant things were, for example, his phone.

He was about to joke about it and tell (Y/N) she was hiding his phone to mess with him, but when he unlocked hers, his heart stopped, and he nearly dropped it. Her phone's wallpaper... it was a picture... of... a... dick.

And it wasn't his.

There was a dick. Cock. Penis. And it wasn't his.

He tried to understand what was going on, but it made no sense: there was a fully hard male sexual organ. And. It. Wasn't. His.

- "Honey? Did you find it?"- (Y/N) asked and walked out of the bathroom. Spencer dialed his number in silence and waited until he heard it ringing in the kitchen.

- "Got it!"- he answered and put it in his pocket- "I'll wait in the car"- and without giving his girlfriend time to reply, he left the apartment.

Why on earth would (Y/N) do that? Wasn't he enough? Was she cheating? Whose cock was it? And how was he going to ask her? If she put that picture there, anyone could see it. Didn't she care?

.

- "Honey, are you listening?"- (Y/N) asked him as Spencer drove to the BAU. He had been quiet, tangled in all the doubts and questions that picture had filled his mind with. And he was unable to talk. Unable to simply ask (Y/N) what was that all about.

- "Yes, I'm fine"- he replied, serious and curt. (Y/N) looked at him and raised an eyebrow, confused.

- "Are you sure? you sound upset"

- "If I tell you I'm fine, it's because I'm fucking fine!"- and with that sentence, Spencer Reid ended any kind of conversation with his girlfriend. (Y/N) knew if he were mad about something, he would take his time to process it. And if she pushed him, he was going to freak out, yell and even say hurtful things. That's how Spencer had always been, and she wasn't going to change that.

.

- "Hey! are you ok?"- Morgan stood next to Spencer in the kitchenette. He had noticed his friend hadn't said a word the whole morning, and Derek knew his friend good enough to know that wasn't right.

- "Yeah"- Reid answered coldly and poured a cup of coffee- "So, you don't have any random facts to share with me? No rambling? no..."

- "No, Morgan, I have nothing to say!"- Spencer just snapped at his friend, and he stared at him, surprised

- "Sorry. I'm just..."- Reid was frustrated and embarrassed. He didn't know how to handle what had happened. Maybe Morgan could help. He trusted his friend, as long as he wouldn't tell Penelope.

- "Sorry"- Reid whispered and took a look around. The coast was clear. No one could hear if he shared his thoughts with Morgan, but... he had no idea how to tell him what had happened.

- "Did you fight with (Y/N)? whatever it is that you did, just say you are sorry"

- "No! we didn't... wait, what makes you think I would be the one doing something wrong?"- Derek shrugged and grabbed a mug. He also needed caffeine.

- "I'm just trying to help"

- "You are not helping!"

- "Then tell me what happened, pretty boy. You can deny it all you want, but you are too easy to read. Something is bothering you"

- "Ok, listen, I'm gonna tell you, but you have to swear you won't tell Garcia"

- "Cross my heart and hope to die"- Derek answered, chuckling. It was apparent he wasn't taking Spencer's words seriously.

- "I mean it. It would help if you didn't tell her or anyone. This is between you and me, ok?"- Spencer looked at Derek straight into the eyes and raised an eyebrow, trying to make his point. His friend nodded and happed on his shoulder.

- "You've got my word."

- "Hey! what are you guys doing here?"- (Y/N) walked in and smiled at her boyfriend- "How's your morning going?"

- "Good. Excuse me"- and just like that, Spencer walked in silence back to his desk.

- "What was that?"- (Y/N) asked Morgan- "Did you guys argue?"

- "No! I thought you argued"

- "No, we haven't. He has been acting pretty odd, though"

- "(Y/N), you know he is pretty o...."

- "He is not odd!"- (Y/N) interrupted her friend before he could even finish talking- "I'm gonna find out what's wrong with that man."

.

But her plans of talking with her boyfriend were quickly discarded when Hotch asked her to help JJ looking for some files. And that task took the two SSA the rest of the morning... and most of the afternoon.

.

- "Are you gonna tell me?"- Morgan sat on Spencer's desk and looked at him. He hadn't gotten any work done that whole time. He had been staring at a blank page, holding a pen, trying to come up with the words to write (Y/N) a letter.

Letters were Spencer's way to rearrange his thoughts. He didn't usually give her the letter he wrote her. He would just use it to collect himself. He knew he was an asshole when he was mad, and he always made his best not to be one with her.

- "Your lady is with JJ"- Derek added when Spencer started looking around. Rossi was in his office talking with Prentiss. Hotch locked in his office with Strauss, and Penelope probably in her Batcave.

- "So, pretty Ricky. Spit it"

- "Ok..."- Spencer closed his eyes for a second and tried to find the right words to tell Morgan what had happened without making (Y/N) look like a perv. That was almost impossible.

- "Ok"- Spencer repeated and opened his mouth. Nothing came from it.

- "So"- he said and held his breath. Nothing.

- "Reid, this has to be serious, 'cos I had never seen you losing your words before"

- "Well... I don't know how to tell you what happened"

- "Go straight to the facts. What happened, man?- Morgan would tell himself he was worried about his friend, but the truth was he was a nosy guy. He was way too intrigued with what had happened between Reid and (Y/N) and couldn't focus on his work.

- "I couldn't find my phone this morning, and I asked (Y/N) if I could use hers to call me"- Spencer made a pause and felt how his cheeks were already red, in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

- "Ok, and?"

- "And that's when I found out I'm dating a pervert"- Reid closed his eyes and rested his head against the desk. Morgan frowned, confused, and waited for his friend to give him more details. But Reid didn't say another word.

- "What are you talking about?"- that was all Morgan could say- "What makes you think (Y/N) is a pervert?"

- "Because she!"- Spencer looked around and whispered/yelled at his friend - "She has someone's dick as her phone background, and it ain't mine!!"

If someone earlier that day would have said to Derek: "Today, you will know the most embarrassing secret of one of your best friends", he would have never guessed that would be it.

- "Are you sure?!"- Morgan asked, whispering/yelling too, making his best not to laugh because Spencer didn't look like he was joking.

- "I am sure! I saw it! It was a dick! where did she take that picture from??! is she cheating?!"

- "No, Reid, come on. Don't panic!"- Morgan didn't know what to say, but he made his best to calm his friend down- "There's probably an explanation for it"

- "And what is it? 'cos the only logical explanation I can find is that my girlfriend is not satisfied with me. Maybe she has been looking for..."- Spencer couldn't even finish his sentence. He bit his tongue and held his breath.

- "Kid, you just have to calm down and ask (Y/N) what it's all about. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for all this. She wouldn't cheat on you. Trust me."

.

Despite his friend's words, Spencer was miserable for the rest of the day. (Y/N) and JJ kept looking for some missing files that Hotch needed to close an investigation. Meanwhile, Spencer just sat alone, didn't work at all, and all he could think of was the picture on (Y/N)'s phone. It was killing him.

When (Y/N) called him to ask if he wanted to have lunch with her, he said he wasn't hungry. When she got him a donut to cheer his day, he didn't even smile. And when she tried to kiss him, he turned around and left.

It was bad.

(Y/N) had no idea what was going on, and Spencer kept trying to avoid her. Until they bumped into each other at the hall, and (Y/N) grabbed his sleeve to stop him when he started walking away from her

- "Ok, we need to talk"

- "What about?"- Spencer looked at her, trying to calm himself down, but he couldn't. No matter how badly he tried.

- "Can you stop being a dick with me?"- and Spencer chuckled

- "That's a very interesting word you just choose, (Y/N)"

- "What are you talking about? what's your problem?"

- "You know very well what my problem is!"- but she didn't. She honestly had no idea what Spencer was talking about. And when she didn't answer, he grabbed her arm and crawled her to the storage room.

- "Spen..."

- "Whose dick is it??!"- Reid nearly shouted. His face was red in anger, and his hands were shaking.

- "What?"

- "Don't try to look all innocent! you know what I'm talking about!"

- "Spencer, I have no idea what you are talking about"- (Y/N) whispered, trying to calm him down. But it didn't work.

x- "The dick on your phone!! whose is it?!"

(Y/N) looked at her boyfriend and didn't move a muscle. She had never seen him so upset before.

- "You saw my phone's wallpaper this morning?"- she asked him calmly, and he grunted immediately.

- "If I saw it? Of course, I did! how couldn't I notice there is a picture of someone's cock on my girlfriend's phone!?"

- "Someone's"- she repeated and crossed her arms on her chest- "You think I'd have some random dick on my phone?!"

- "I don't know! you tell me!"

- "Spencer Walter Reid, you are a genius, but that doesn't stop you from being an asshole sometimes"- (Y/N) took the phone and showed him the picture- "That's you!! I accidentally set the picture as my wallpaper this morning and forgot to change it!! do you want to see the whole photo shoot to make sure that's you? 'cos you were the one who took the pictures, by the way!!"

(Y/N) looked at him, waiting for an apology, and Spencer was so embarrassed he didn't know what to do. She was right. He had taken those pictures. It all came to his mind that second.

- "Pumpkin...."

- "It's your dick, Spencer"

- "I..."- he couldn't answer

- "And you thought I had someone else's dirty pictures on my phone?"- she whispered, watching how her boyfriend's face changed from angry to shock in a second.

- "I just..."

- "What? you thought I was a pervert?"- Spencer really didn't know what to say

- "I'm so sorry"- he whispered and bit his lips- "I was a dick"

- "You were"- (Y/N) nodded and crossed her arms on her chest- "Why didn't you just ask me right away?"

- "I don't know, I was just so... mad and..."- Spencer looked down at his shoes and pouted. (Y/N) knew she should be mad at him for acting like a jerk the whole day, but she couldn't. Why? because she knew underneath it all, he was just a boy scared to be rejected.

- "Come here"- she held his hands and took a step closer to him- "Look at me, honey"- he did, for a second, and then looked away- "Eyes on me, Spencer, I need to make sure you understand what I'm about to say"

- "(Y/N), I am so sorry, I..."

- "I know you are sorry"- she whispered and leaned in, pecking his lips- "And I am not mad at you. But I need you to understand something. I love you. I don't want anybody else. Ok?"- he blushed as she kept looking at him.

- "I'm sorry"- he whispered again and leaned over, resting his forehead on hers - "I thought..."

- "You are everything I need, and everything I want, ok?"- she muttered, and he sighed- "And you should start recognizing your own dick, Spencer. I can't believe you didn't know it was yours"- (Y/N) giggled and kissed Spencer's lips again- "Maybe we should start taking more pictures."- she whispered, and Reid shook his head.

- "I don't deserve you."

- "But you are stuck with me, so deal with your perv,"- she answered and giggled- "Now give me a kiss to make it up for a shitty day"- Spencer wrapped his arms around her and kissed deeply. The kind of kiss that made her feel weak on the knees.

- "What if you teach me how to change my phone's background?"- he whispered, and (Y/N) smiled.

- "As long as I am the one taking the pictures now."

.

[sopxhiea]

Moirai

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Now that the intentions are clear, the niece sees no reason to wait but Alfie just wants to take his sweet time.

Warnings: Age gap.

Genre: Angst and a dash of smut but fluff at the end

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Enjoying the view?”

“I'm gonna end up breaking your little heart in two.”

The pavement was cold, still a little wet from the rain this morning as the light sound of your small feet padding across the surface filled the empty street. It was past midnight, a little too late for anyone sane to be roaming around the streets of Camden, only the drunk and insane was around at this hour.

The car had stopped a few blocks away from his house as you had to be careful with where you were going. The excuse of going around to your friend’s flat because she was having a rough night had gotten you out of the grand mansion with your driver. 

You had changed into a lighter dress, one that was sheer around your upper body and was flowing around your knees. There was no noise or interruption as you looked at the house Alfie loved in. Too small for a man of his power but big enough for anyone around here.

You figured he wasn’t so materialistic, not like the posh ladies you’d been around.

A little shiver was apparent in your arms but it was late for any doubts as your small hand hit the door once, and then once after that. There was a pause, deliberately almost and some shuffling from the other side after the sound of heavy footsteps stopped. You heard an animalistic growl from the other side, unsure of the source but there wasn’t much time to contemplate when the door opened in one swift motion.

And there he was, in all his glory.

His hair was a bit messier than it had been during dinner, sleeves rolled up around his elbows. He was not panting but there was a darker look in his eyes, the same one he had in your study earlier that same day. You shot him a smile he had seen before but it made it harder for him to breathe for a second but he recovered quick enough.

“Enjoying the view?” your voice was breathy and there was a sparkle in his eyes as he looked at your small form standing on his doorstep.

He usually had his maid but he was more than thankful he had given her the rest of the night off. He knew you’d be coming, for all he knew the kiss he gave before leaving was enough to lure you in. You hadn’t slept with the man but you wanted to, so desperate for him to do more but you had a reputation stemming from your uncle and his business.

So all the moves had to be calculated.

“Very much so.” he said, not tearing his eyes from your body as he stared with no shame in the world. Alfie had always thought that beauty should be admire and you were it for him.

“Well, it’s rude to keep a lady waiting...” you spoke and trailed off but he saw the way your lips twitched upward.

He stepped aside, taking your hand in his and closing the door behind you. The space itself would be considered very well off for anyone else but you knew the kind of money Alfie made, he had multiple businesses on the side and your uncle was well aware of his wealth.

Maybe that was why he had been invited to dinner, you thought. It was a sign of trust and signaled at a created of a new bond and you soon realized that very same bond could easily be broken because of you. You didn’t ponder on it, not when Alfie was looking at you the way he was.

Moving further inside the house, you came to the conclusion that Alfie was not a materialistic man after all. Most of the furniture seemed expensive but there wasn’t much of it to begin with. A few shelves here and there with old books with golden covers and a few pictures of what you assumed to be his family. 

When you turned back, you found Alfie with a dark look in his eyes and a few centimeters away from you. His chest touched yours, noses almost brushing but you held him back by his arms and smiled. You wanted things to be done quick and efficiently but it also needed to be proper.

“Nice place you have here.” you spoke and didn’t realize the large mutt next to the fireplace.

A smile broke out on your lips as you approached the dog. He was bigger than any dog you’d seen but there was no fear on your face when you softly petted his head, which made Alfie’s eyebrows lift. People, even some tough men, were afraid of his large mutt yet there you were, something half his size speaking to Cyril in a sweet voice.

“What’s his name?” you said, not tearing your eyes away from the dog and Alfie spoke in a mutter, a bit jealous if he was honest with himself.

“Cyril.” he said and not a second later, you cooed to the dog.

“Oh! What a handsome name for a handsome boy..” you said, speaking to Cyril as if he were a baby and as far as Alfie could tell, the mutt was enjoying the attention you were giving him.

You soon realized the man was getting agitated as he watched you play with his dog so you petted Cyril’s head for the last time and sat down in front of Alfie with crossed legs. He wasn’t jealous, he wouldn’t call it that but he had waited for you to arrive since he’d left your uncle’s mansion and all you were keen on doing was to pet the damn dog.

“You’ve been waiting then, hm?” you spoke, lifting your leg up and down and he was focused on the way your body looked under the light dress for a solid minute before meeting your eyes.

All you got was a grunt of approval.

“Disappointed?” your voice was breathy as you asked him, he seemed a bit more calm than usual which, you had learned, was not a good sign with him.

He liked speaking, any time and all the time. It didn’t matter what it was about. Sometimes he’d tell you about business, how his lads were not behaving and all their little mistakes. Sometimes it came to be about him, how he liked his rum a certain way and the way he liked the silk dresses you wore more than the cotton ones, it’s the way they make you glow, he had said.

But he wasn’t speaking at that very moment, for whatever reason he had.

So you took it on your hands, the whole silent treatment on its own. You got up slowly, his eyes were keen on roaming around your body as you did so and you didn’t hide anything. He had kissed you plenty anyway so he had felt a certain amount of your skin against his.

You slowly sat on his thigh, not straddling him but more like putting all your weight on one thigh. The man was massive, anyway, you doubted that he felt anything as you settled yourself on him. He was still looking, adamant on keeping his eyes on you.

He was a damned man, not afraid of anything other than his mum and she was not on this side of the soul anyway so he had very little to worry about. But he would never hurt an innocent person. Sure, he had killed a man with his fists before but that wasn’t the same as a small girl with a clean heart.

Although you’d speak to differ.

“You’re worried?” you spoke, reading right through the difficult man and it took him a minute to register your words.

“Why the fuck would I, yeah, be worried, pet?” he said, hand at his beard like it usually was as he looked at you with uncertain eyes. 

He didn’t know what was going through your mind and Alfie always knew what someone else was thinking.

“You tell me.” you spoke, eyes scanning his but you weren’t really there anymore. There was a flood of worry evident in your orbs and Alfie hated to see that, hated it more because you had been the one to cause it.

You were not posh by upbringing but Alfie knew the people you hung out with, the small circle you had been put in. The girls were closer to aristocracy as he saw it, dainty dresses and conceited minds. They didn’t care for anything else other than their clothes, jewels or the party they were headed to.

He had seen you once with them.

You didn’t fit in, he could tell that much. That wasn’t to say that you didn’t look like you belonged with them, if anything you looked much more elegant than they’d ever be but there wasn’t the same fake smile they had on their lips. Those groups were a must, something your uncle had requested from you since he was doing business with some of the girls’ fathers and he needed you to make a good impression.

They weren’t your friends.

Alfie knew that but the scene had reminded him that you were a small posh girl, somewhere at the top of the social elites whereas he was a gangster. He didn’t mind the commotion, he had never been the one to care for what people had thought of him but you were young, so young in fact that he was afraid that he’d ruin you forever.

You leaned forward a little, in an attempt to get to kiss him but he was deep in thought.

“Alfie.” you called for him and he came out of his daze. You offered him a slow smile but he spoke with a monotone voice instead. 

This was the gangster side of him.

“I'm gonna end up breaking your little heart in two.” his voice was low but loud enough for you to hear from the close proximity. You blinked a couple of times and got up from his thigh.

The man was so full of himself sometimes.

“And?” you said, he looked up with a confused face and let you continue.

You wanted to fuck him that night but maybe it would have to wait for later.

“I don’t know why you think so highly of yourself. I just wanted a fuck.” you said, truth hitting him right in the face in an unusual manner.

“Why not fuck one of them rich lads, pet, hm?” he said, not getting up but crossing his arms instead. He was getting angry but he’d never hurt you, you both knew that.

You scoffed at his face with a heaving chest. Your face was slightly flushed, anger evident in your eyes as you stared at him. He thought so highly of himself that it made you want to leave but you had told your uncle you’d be staying the whole night and you were, for a faint moment, tired of lying to the poor old man.

And all along, Alfie got caught up in the way that you looked.

Angry and bothered, it did things to him.

“Because I’ve done enough of that.” you said, breaking the small spell you had put him under with your angry orbs. 

He chuckled at first.

He had heard about your tactics, had never been at the receiving end. He had heard about the way you’d change your name, your whole attire and cover story. As far as he knew, you’d been a butcher’s daughter, a foreign student and even a dress maker at some point. All of these covers popped up in one night and disappeared as quickly. As he had come to learn, all these ladies had the same description.

So he connected all the dots and there you were.

“Ya’ wanna fuck a dangerous man now, yeah, that it, luv?” he said, not sounding angry in the slightest but simply very curious.

You took a moment to think.

You had seen plenty of gangsters before, some with blood on their hands and some with scarves around their neck and a blade in their hat. It didn’t matter that Alfie was a gangster, that was just how it had happened and was a mere fact. You wanted him because he had been nothing but kind patient, not because he was a criminal of sorts.

“That’s what you think?” you spoke, eyes fiery and Alfie’s mind kept on focusing on the way your chest rose and fell rather than what was being asked.

He was just a man after all.

“Is it?” you spoke once more, desperate for him to say no but he had been fueled by anger in the first place and most of the time, he didn’t mean what he said.

“Nah.” he spoke, in a heartbeat. He had been a bit too furious with you.

The business was getting to him, and all that you brought to the table. He wasn’t complaining but Alfie was not a patient man, not when it came to talking what was going through his mind and you’d known that much but his sharp words had never been directed at you so it took you a minute to regain composure.

“Then why did-”

“Luv, I’m fuckin’ sorry, yeah, I am..” he said, getting up from where he was sitting and holding your arm gently. Your eyes were no longer lit up but you just looked a bit down and Alfie knew it was because of the way he’d handled everything. “..didn’t mean to speak to ya’ that way.” he said, not using the word ‘fuck’ to ease your nerves, although it took everything for him not to.

He slowly guided you out of the living room and into his study. He was whispering sweet nothings to your ear as an attempt to get you to feel a bit better when he sat you down on his lap. Then he rambled, much like he did all the time. He spoke about how boring your uncle’s dinner was and how glad it he was that it was over and that earned a light smack to the chest from you but he made it up by telling you that it was all worth it since he got to see the pretty lass.

He talked and talked and you didn’t even realize he had gotten his hands under your skirt.

-----

“St-stop.” you whispered against his skin, his face was inches away from you.

You looked flushed underneath him, laying on his large bed while his hand massaged you under your skirt. The other hand was on your waist, venturing every now and then to explore more of the skin.

He did stop, right after you told him to.

You gulped and looked at his eyes, his face merely inches away as he looked down at you. He was making this take longer than you were used to and it wasn’t that you were complaining but you felt desperate to connect your body with his and he had every intention of doing that as well, just a bit later on.

“Jus’ fuckin’ tell me.” he growled in your ear while his hands resumed what they were doing. It earned a low moan from you, the kind that made all the pressure in his body go south. 

It had already been hard to resist you all those times you’d made out but Alfie would never cross the line, the line you had put there. He respected you and your choices and you had waited for a good amount of time before letting him in your pants, it had felt like torture for him to wait but he had. 

Another low moan left your lips, one that made your chest vibrate and it took Alfie a moment to resume what he was doing. You looked so pretty under him, falling apart each time his fingers moved.

You weren’t a virgin, not by a long shot but men usually only cared about their part of the exchange. They would handle their business and make it quick so you weren’t sure of sex could feel good for both parts or it was only designed to satisfy men.

All your questions found answers while Alfie’s lips planted open kisses on your neck and trailed down, inch by inch. You didn’t tell him anything, it was just the initial reaction of slight panic when you felt this good, when he made you feel this good. You let him do his thing, unaware of how responsive your body was being to his touch but he reveled in it.

“Alfie.” your voice was a low whisper, breathy against his skin as he worked against your core. You gulped and he smiled against his skin.

Was it supposed to feel this good?

It felt like freefalling, like you were floating but it also felt close to the edge. He was holding you in his arms the whole time, his touch gentle against your skin. It almost sounded funny, just how gentle this cruel gangster was being with you. He didn’t want you to get hurt, as he knew that was easier than he’d anticipate.

Your legs were quivering as he held you, your breath caught in your throat while you saw stars. His hand didn’t stop, it only multiplied in how dense his movements were as he watched you fall apart. Your hands were digging at his back, too gentle for him to say anything and he drowned in the way you looked.

A thin sheet of sweated coated your body as you recovered from your high, still a bit fazed at what had just happened. You knew what it felt like, just not from a man’s hand and certainly not a gangster. Your eyes soon met his, his blue orbs no longer curious but dark. He looked like he was ready to devour you.

“This is going to get me killed.” you said, your voice still a bit hoarse as you looked into his eyes.

And it would kill you, you both knew it.

Alfie would be fine if the word was ever to get out, he was a grown man who owned an empire he had made for himself. He wasn’t afraid of a lot of things but you were just a young girl who happened to have a dangerous uncle. He would be the one responsible for everything that would happen and he didn’t know if you’d come out of it as the same person you’d been at the beginning.

“Ya’ afraid, luv?” you spoke against his lips before they landed on yours.

He kissed you like a fresh breath of air, it wasn’t the usual kiss. He took his time, as if he was trying to tell you something but you were too lost in the touch of him. You moaned into his mouth and he absorbed every little sound as he kissed you.

You broke the kiss, out of breath as you looked at him, hands on his cheeks as he smiled down at you. You didn’t know if you’d want to stop, even if it were to kill you. You weren’t afraid, you knew you would be able to keep this going for at least two months, you had lied to your uncle before and had no intentions of stopping because you were sleeping with a gangster.

“It’s not that.” you spoke against his lips as he caressed your body, hands all over your soft skin. You were letting him do whatever, the time you had with him felt too precious to pass up any opportunity.

“What..” he kissed you once in between the words. “the fuck ‘s it then, hm?” he spoke against your lips and you realized he’d been staring for a bit too long for it to be ‘just looking’.

You licked your lips first, savoring the taste as he inspected you with his eyes. You’d tell him but he figured you’d need a moment before.

You weren’t afraid, not in the slightest.

“I will get into trouble, which isn’t the problem..” you gulped, a hand over your head as you looked at him. “...I’m not sure what he’ll do to me.” you let out, letting your voice be heard.

Your uncle was known to be generous but not when it came to his perfect little niece. You had gotten away with everything till now and if he found out that you were sleeping with a gangster, let alone Alfie Solomons of all gangsters, he’d get you married to some boring chap and send you to the countryside.

You gulped under his stare and he looked at you once more before speaking. He was no longer hovering above you but sitting in front of you on his bed.

“What could yer old man’ fuckin’ do?” he said, not to mock your uncle but to find out what made you feel so uneasy.

He could do many things.

He could get you out of school, something you desperately didn’t want him to do. He could easily get you married, send you off to some island people hadn’t even heard of. He would yell at you, you knew that. He wouldn’t hit you, that was a line he wouldn’t cross but he would be angry with you and you didn’t know for how long.

The uncertainty made you feel uneasy, not the fear of it all.

“I don’t know....he could easily ruin me, I know that much.” you said, a sigh leaving your lips and you sat up as well, facing Alfie as he looked at you.

“Ruin ya’?” he asked, unsure of what you meant but that was expected. You didn’t share the same culture and so, it could mean many things as far as he was concerned.

“He could get me married to one of those boring old blokes, the ones that keep asking for my hand.” you spoke, as a matter of fact.

There was quite a few of them but you’d never mentioned it before, not seeing the relevance. They wanted to marry you for your uncle’s wealth but you figured it was not of importance. It was obvious to many but Alfie had never paid attention to it before. He couldn’t deny the fact that you were much younger, a lot more innocent and in his eyes, deserving of better than he was.

“Hm.” he said, hand tugging at his beard as he looked at your sitting form on the bed, hair a bit messy while your chest still rose and fell with a faster pace than usual. 

You scooted close to the bear of a man and sat next to him on the bed, leg touching his and his eyes focused on the contact for a second before settling on your features again. You were waiting for him to speak, he could tell from the way you chewed your lip.

His hand lifted, thumb brushing against your lip and you stopped the movement of your teeth. He could see the indecisive tone your eyes held, as if to say that you were still contemplating. You’d taken risks before, big ones at that but sleeping with a gangster had never been on that list. And that gangster was someone your uncle was making business with.

Although you’d already made your decision, you concluded.

He would treat you better than anyone your uncle would find you, or even the lads you would find for yourself. There was no fear of him being crushed by your uncle, since his wrath was something your uncle avoided at all costs. You had no problem sneaking around for a while but if you were to be caught, you needed him to have your back.

“I don’t mind sneaking around, I’ve done it before...” you spoke softly and his eyes remained on you, gentle as he waited for you to finish speaking. “..but if we are to ever get caught, somehow, I need to you to promise me...” you said, not needing to finish the sentence as he knew what you were saying.

You needed him to tell you that he wouldn’t just flee.

Men were scared of power, although some were adamant on fighting it. You knew Alfie was no ordinary man but the fear of being faced with your uncle could still be something he was not adamant on doing, you thought. You watched his eyes contemplate before you saw the decision in his eyes, his face relaxing in the slightest.

“Ya’ think I would fuckin’ leave you?” he asked, not telling you his answer just yet.

He wanted to make you wait.

He liked the innocence sprawled on your features, like a little girl who needed her desires to be met. You were quite spoiled, he knew that but in no way that made him feel uncomfortable, just in the way that made him feel a little amused. He had seen rich girls before, the kind of ladies that would make hell look like a playground if their dress didn’t fit perfectly but you weren’t like them and he decided that was because of how you had been raised.

But you were still a little spoiled, he thought with a smile. 

“I didn’t say that. I was as-” you started speaking, features a little agitated but he stopped you with a smile on his lips. He was just toying with you.

“If we take this further, yeah, you’ll have a lot of fuckin’ trouble gettin’ rid of me, pet.” he said and watched your features relax.

You hadn’t slept with him yet, but you would that night.

“Good. I’d like that.” you said with a childish smile and he felt his chest vibrate.

He looked at your for a bit then, glowing under the moonlight. God you were so young but he didn’t feel the difference most of the time. It made him feel young, if anything. He smiled as his hand cradled your skull gently and he saw the determination in your eyes as your lips neared his.

He tasted all power and manly. There was a taste of vanilla you couldn’t place, and the faint smell of rum on his clothes but there was comfort in everything that he was. You smiled against his lips, straddling his sitting form on the bed and you earned a growl from him the moment your legs landed on top of his.

This was a familiar scene for all you knew but you’d ask for it this time, you felt no shame in it. 

Speaking against his lips, you kept your hands on his hair and chest as your voice met his ears.

“Don’t make me wait.” you spoke between his desperate kisses. His defense was weakened from earlier and he had no intentions of leaving things at kissing that night but he liked the idea of you begging, it made his mind go blank.

He hummed against your lips while you responded to every little action that came from him. Instead of laying you down on the bed and getting things started, he just kept kissing you for a while. You didn’t complain at first, tongues clashing as you sat on top of him with a flushed face but you were growing impatient and you needed him to get to work.

“I’m not gonna beg for it.” you spoke against his lips and grinded against his crotch which only weakened him further.

In a split second, he had you trapped under him on the bed as you laid on your back and stared up at him with darker eyes than before. You wanted this for so long and the man was making you wait which only made you frustrated.

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that, lass.” he said as he planted kisses on your collarbone and your hands found his back while he worked on kissing every inch of you.

It felt like being worshipped, like he was showing you something he couldn’t put into words.

You decided, very quickly, that you wouldn’t mind waiting. It seemed like the man had all the time in the world as he gently kissed your neck and trailed down, inch by inch as you squirmed underneath him. The night was long and he had every intention of showing you how a lady should be treated.

You moaned lowly when he bit the inside of your thigh and he was soon kissing you again. He was the one keeping you on your toes now as it got harder to predict his next move.

You would beg for many things that night but none of them would feel foreign as they rolled off your tongue.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @jjklefttoe @ floatinginwords @opheliasbrokenmind​ @ alliss19

a/n: I’m sorry this came in so late but I truly do hope you enjoyedit and let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! There is more coming but there might be a small delay but it’s in the works <3

[noladyme]

The Wife - Chapter 2

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (7467 words)

He came to her, as she stood in the middle of a meadow of white flowers. As he walked towards her, the flowers he passed wilted. “Why are you here?”, Rosalind asked. “Because I cannot stay away”, James said. She put her hands on his broad, naked chest; and felt his heart beat as if he was really there, and not a dream vision. “Then don’t… I waited. Even after they told me you died; I still waited!”. “Why?”, James asked; putting his forehead to hers. “You know why, my love”. James pulled back from her, and pointed at the wilted flowers behind him. “This is what I bring. This is what will happen to you, if you let me in”. “You won’t hurt me”, Rosalind said, and reached for his hand.

He disappeared in the same moment, and appeared again, a way off from her. The white flowers were now all dead. “Death follows where I go. Do not put yourself in danger… I should not be here. Wake up”.

She woke with a start. The sun was already peaking through the gap in the curtains, and the room was cold. A wilted flower lay on the pillow next to her.

---

Two days later, Rosalind was seated on a plush sofa in countess Musgrove’s day room. She had long since given up on the card game, as the stakes were much too dear for her purse; and she was feeling dizzy and out of sorts. “I tell you, that feather made all the difference. Within minutes, he was meek as a lamb, and pleading with me to end the torture, and just let him finish!”.

The ladies in the room all laughed at the countess’ story. Musgrove herself relished in the attention, before turning to Rosalind. “Miss Beauchamp… or should I say; Mrs. Delaney”. The ladies all cackled. “Tell me; how is it, having your husband back?”. “Much as it was before he returned”, Rosalind said, surprised by her own bluntness. “Are you still being courted by that dashing Mr. Geary, then?”, a well-fed lady, who’s name Rosalind did not remember, asked. “I’ve never found him… dashing. And he smells like herring”. Rosalind could not cover the disdain in the voice.

The countess got up, and walked over to join her on the sofa. Her blue, silk gown covered most of the seat. It reminded her of water; and for a moment Rosalind considered stroking her fingers against it, to see if they would breach the surface of the fabric. The countess poured her another cup of tea, and handed it to her. “Please. I have it made especially”, she smiled. Rosalind took a sip, and tried – unsuccessfully – to hide how bitter the taste was. “It is not in everyone’s taste, of course. But quite expensive, I assure you”. “I’m sure it is”, Rosalind said.

The countess popped a meringue into her mouth. “Now, your husband…”, she said, after finishing chewing. “I hear he’s quite the brute”. “He wasn’t when I met him. Now, I do not know; to be honest”. “He has not moved you in to his house. Why?”. “You guess is as good as mine, my lady”, Rosalind said. “Perhaps he knows I am quite comfortable with Mrs. Owen”. “Bah, that old gossip monger”, the countess scoffed. “My maid tells me, she runs her mouth to every man or woman who will listen, about her tenants”. “I am not surprised. But my lodgings are fitting to my income, as it is”.

Musgrove raised an amused and overly painted eyebrow at her; while Rosalind took another sip of tea. “Are they? I hear your formerly dearly departed, now very much alive husband, is about to make quite a lot of money; from selling a plot of land. I’m sure you’ll be moving up in the world soon… You might not even need to take employment with me, the next time my niece visits”.

This was how Rosalind had met countess Musgrove a little over a year earlier; as she was entertaining her husband’s niece from Germany. The poor girl needed a chaperone for the rambunctious parties the countess hosted; and Rosalind had held the flabbergasted girl’s hand, as they made their way through rooms filled with acrobats and magicians. She had soon returned to Hanover, but Rosalind had been continuously invited to all the parties at the countess’ home; and had each time sent back a polite decline. She had accepted the occasional invitation for tea, and sat through the ridiculous gossip and banter such occasions had provided.

“I was not aware. We have not spoken much, since his return”, Rosalind said. “I have only seen him twice, and he never spoke of land or money”. She cleared her throat, feeling it suddenly dry. She could not stop herself from saying things, she felt she shouldn’t.

“But you must have heard about the land in America. Nootka Sound”, Musgrove said. “Here; have some more tea, for your cough”. She poured another cup for Rosalind; who took a large sip. “Only from Mr. Thoyt, my father-in-law’s lawyer”. A strange expression ghosted the countess’ face. “Mr. Thoyt… He has been in contact with you?”. “Well, I was the sole heiress to the Delaney estate, so yes”, Rosalind said. She took another sip of tea. “All my husband has spoken of; is how he believes someone is out to kill him”.

Rosalind halted herself. She felt as if she could not stop the words going through her head, from coming out of her mouth. Her hands shook, and she set down the cup on the small table next to her. “I’m terribly sorry, but I am feeling unwell. Would you mind having a carriage take me back to town?”. Musgrove took her hand. “Oh my dear! Are you sure you do not want to have a lie down in one of the guest rooms?”. “No, please. I should like to go home”, Rosalind insisted.

Musgrove got up, and walked over to one of the footmen, and said something below her breath. “… when she’s asleep…”, Rosalind thought she heard the countess say. She used her hand to fan herself; feeling not hot, but still like fresh air might do her good, in her faintness. When she looked up again, the other ladies were whispering at the card table, and the countess had disappeared off to somewhere. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, she was alone, but for the countess, who had returned. “Come my dear. The carriage awaits”.

Rosalind managed getting into the carriage without too much help from the coachman. The countess waved her off, as they drove away. For a while, they drove down the roads leading from the Musgrove manor to London; and Rosalind let herself relax against the window. It became dusk while they drove, and the trip took longer than Rosalind expected. The coachman took a few turns she knew were wrong. “Driver, this is not the way back to town”, she called out. She noticed some of the same trees she’d seen earlier. “Why are you taking me back to the manor?”.

There was no answer, but the carriage halted, and she heard the coachman get down. Suddenly, the door opened, and the coachman entered the carriage; startling her. He pulled out a handkerchief, and pressed it against her face; with a firm grip to the back of her head. Rosalind screamed through the fabric, but when she inhaled, a strong acidic smell hit her nose; and she suddenly felt dizzier than before. “Sleep now, miss. You’ll feel better in the morning”, the coachman said. Rosalind let out another scream, and weakly struck at his head; before she had to give in. She had no fight left in her.

Another person entered the carriage; striking hard at the coachman’s head. A knife shaped as a claw slid across his abdomen, and Rosalind saw blood flowing from the wound. “Go back to Musgrove. Tell her the lady will be disinclined to return for tea, until she serves something of a better quality; and less disturbing to the senses”, James voice growled. Rosalind let out a gasp of relief mixed with exhaustion. She found it difficult to keep her eyes open, but managed to meet James’ eyes for a moment, as he pulled her out of the carriage, and tried to set her on her feet. “Can you walk?”, he asked. “No”, Rosalind replied; unable to raise her voice above a whisper. She collapsed against him, her face buried against his shoulder. She held on to his collar, but couldn’t stay on her feet. “Rose”, James breathed. Then everything went black.

---

There were flashes of lucidness. Leaning against a strong shoulder, seated in an open carriage. The smell of gutters, and sounds of laughing people. A street light forcing her to cover her eyes. A voice she knew, speaking a language she didn’t. Being carried up squeaking steps. A warm hand stroking her forehead.

She woke in a bed she knew well, and had slept in it many nights, years before. She was in the bed she was meant to have shared with James after they’d been wed, but had instead ended up sleeping in on her own, after he’d left. The room was darker than it had been when she had lived there; in spite of the fireplace being lit, and the candles set up on the nightstand.

Looking down at herself, she saw that her jacket had been removed, as well as her shoes; but otherwise, she was fully clothed. James was seated on a chair in the far corner; his expression dark and hard. “Did you kill him?”, Rosalind asked. “No. I had a use for him. He needed to send a message to your friends, the countess”, he said. “I did kill the pharmacist that sold her maid the powders she put in your tea, to make you compliant”. Rosalind shuddered at his words. “What happened to you, James?”, she asked. “I was always this. You are just seeing it now”, he replied. She sat herself up, leaning against the headboard.

They sat for a moment in silence, before Rosalind could take it no longer. “Will you not come closer? I can hardly see you in the darkness”. “I should not be close to you right now. I am very angry”, James replied. Rosalind went to get out of bed. “No, stay there”. “Are you angry with me?”, she asked. “Do I have reason to be?”. “I don’t know”, Rosalind admitted. “I know nothing about your dealings, and yet I fear I’ve let too much be known to others”. James nodded. “You did. But no; I am not angry with you”. Rosalind leaned forwards. “Then come closer. You won’t hurt me”. James got on his feet. “Do you believe I would hurt you, if I was angry with you?”. “No”, Rosalind replied.

A log in the fireplace cracked, and the embers lit up James face. His lips were parted, as if he was to speak again; but instead, he slowly walked towards the bed. Once close to her, Rosalind reached for his hand, and he sat down on the edge of the bed; allowing her to merge her fingers with his. “You put yourself in danger, when I asked you not to”.

“I didn’t know having tea could be dangerous”, she said. Swallowing hard, she met his blue eyes. In spite of the crows feet and the scar, they were still the same.

“You visited me in my dreams”, she said timidly. “Hmm”, James muttered. “I’m sure I’ve visited you there many times”. “But you did…”, she insisted “This does not sound like madness to you?”. “Madness that I believe you can do so?”, Rosalind said. James merely grunted as a reply. “You died, and then you came back. I believe you can do many things”. “Hmm…”, James grunted. Rosalind turned his hand in hers, and pulled it up to kiss his palm. “If you want to see me, don’t come to me in dreams”, she said. “I have dreamt of you too often. I want to you there when I am awake”.

James pulled his hand back abruptly, and got off the bed. He looked hard at her. “You are no longer safe on your own. You will move back into this house, where I can protect you”. “Is that the only reason why you want me here?”, Rosalind asked. She reached for his hand again, but he recoiled from her. “Sleep now”, James demanded. “You still have chemicals in you, it is why you are saying such foolish things. There is no such thing as visiting another person’s dreams”.

He left the room without another word.

---

The smell of coffee and bacon woke her. Rosalind gingerly stepped out of the bed; testing to see if her legs would hold. Once she was satisfied that they would, she looked under the bed. There, covered in a thick layer of dust, stood a pair of slippers. She smiled to herself, happy that she’d been correct in thinking she had left them here, when she’d departed the house 9 years before. They still fit.

She made her way down the stairs, into the sitting room. Two places had been set up for breakfast, and Brace was happily putting down a plate of eggs and bacon by the chair closest to the lit fireplace. The dog was laying in front of the fire, and lifted its head for a moment, when she entered. “Good morning, ma’am… or, miss”, he smiled. “I am glad to have you back in the house”. “Just a few days ago, you seemed to rather have me anywhere but here”, Rosalind chuckled, and seated herself in front of the delicious smelling food. “Well, maybe you can straighten him out. Lord knows, I can’t”, Brace replied, and poured her a cup of coffee.

“Bacon, Brace? We don’t eat pork”, James grunted; suddenly appearing in the doorway. He was dressed in trousers, and a blue shirt that was not tucked in. Tattoos were visible on his chest and neck, and the shirt exposed more of his skin than Rosalind had ever seen before. He was tanned, and looked strong. Heat pooled in Rosalind’s lower belly, and she had to look away. “Which is why I made you porridge”, Brace replied. “There’s no reason the lady should suffer, because you won’t eat anything from the market”. Rosalind stifled a smile, and raised a fork to her lips. “You bought this at the market?”, James asked. Brace nodded, and James sprang towards Rosalind; grabbing the fork from her, and throwing her plate into the fireplace. Some of the food landed in her lap. “James!”, Rosalind yelped. James raised an angry finger at Brace. “How many times must I tell you; we only eat what comes from Atticus. He is the only one I trust!”.

Rosalind got on her feet, and wiped the food of her skirt with a napkin. The dog got on its feet, and came over to eat the scraps that landed on the floor. James looked at her, his gaze slightly embarrassed. “I will have your things delivered here today”, he said. “Your clothes, and whatnot”. “I never agreed to stay”, Rosalind replied. Brace looked disappointed. “You don’t have a choice. What happened last night should be proof of that”, James retorted. “And, you are my wife. It is only proper”. “And you are all about propriety, are you?”. She let her eyes travel toward his partly uncovered chest. “I will fetch my own things, thank you". “I don’t want you leaving this house, until I’m sure it’s safe", James said.

Rosalind sighed in irritation. “Brace, I should like to eat in my room. Porridge will be fine”. “Honey?”, Brace asked. “Jam, please. If you have it”, she replied, and exited the room with as much pride in her step as she could muster. She heard another plate being smashed as she went; and hurried up the stairs.

---

She didn’t leave her room the rest of the day. Rosalind knew James was right. Though she had no idea why she was in danger, someone – quite possibly the countess Musgrove – had tried to kidnap her. Angry as she was at him, being in James’ presence – in his house – made her feel safer.

During the day, she heard shuffling upstairs in the attic. Heavy items being moved around, and steps across the floor. The senior Delaney had used the attic as an office, she knew, but she had only been up there a few times; and when she had, her father-in-law had been in a drunken stupor, and she’d had to help Brace get him down to his bed. The thought of James in the same condition, mad and rambling, made her heart sting with pain.

In the evening, she decided to go downstairs for dinner; needing a change of scenery. Her chest and travelling luggage stood in the hallway. On top of the chest, stood the new boots; still unused. She stood for a moment, looking at them, before walking in to the sitting room; where James sat at the dining table, bent over what looked like salted beef and potatoes. Rosalind sat down at the opposite end of the table.

“I’ll have to burn your old boots, if you keep refusing to wear the ones, I got for you”, James said; eyes fixed on his plate. “You don’t want me leaving the house. I don’t need boots”, Rosalind replied. James grunted nonsensically in response. “What was that?”. “Eat your food”. “Are you sure it’s not poisoned?” He looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “You should watch your tongue”, he said. “I am not afraid of you, James”, Rosalind snarled. “You should be. I am a dangerous man”. He returned to his food.

Rosalind poked at the meat on her plate. It looked unappetizing, and she decided to only eat the potatoes. “If you insist on keeping me here, I should like to know why", she said. James gave her a quick look, before downing a glass of brandy. “You don’t want to be here?”, he asked. “You don’t seem to want me here, and I prefer not to overstay my welcome with anyone”. She put a piece of potato in her mouth, and chewed as femininely as possible; considering the undercooked consistency. She suspected these potatoes were of the kind, which would never be possible to cook properly.

James leaned back, and watched her intently. "Did my father ever give you any documents for safe keeping?”, he asked. “Something that might look like a contract, or a deed?”. Rosalind shook her head confusedly. Brace came into the room, with a tray of bread. “No. He wouldn’t let me near anything official looking. I was more or less an ornament, while I stayed here last". James narrowed his eyes at her. “How long did you live here?”. “A little over a year. Up until your letters stopped, and your father became too cruel", Brace said. James tensed up at this statement. “He wasn’t cruel", Rosalind said. “He was just in pain. He missed his son, and I reminded him of that". James studied her face intently. “You always seek out the good in others; almost to a fault, miss", Brace said. Rosalind blushed at Brace's words, though she was quite sure they were not truly a compliment.

She looked at James again. “You did not answer my question. Why am I here? And why did someone try to kidnap me yesterday?”. James looked at Brace, who shook his head almost pleadingly. “The lady wants to know”, James said. “Nootka Sound. Do you know of it?”. The old butler left the room, looking unhappy. “Not much. I’ve heard it is a plot of land in America". “Hmm…”, he grunted. “It is an area on the north-west coast. And it’s mine". Rosalind carved another piece of potato. “I was told you were about to sell it”, she said. “That is what they want. They tried killing me, so they could buy it from you, but they haven’t managed so far", James said.

A chill went through Rosalind’s body. “You’re not selling?”. “No. I intend to use it for myself. It’s located in a strategically beneficial place for trade…”.

James looked at her, as if he anticipated her next question. “And who are they?”, she asked. “The ones who want you to sell?”. He seemed to consider whether she was to be trusted enough to hear what was to come; before finally coming to a conclusion, and continuing. “The crown wants the land, to control the Americans; and the East India Trading Company wants it for naval trade. To add to them, are the Americans, who also want their hands on it. That is why Musgrove was trying to put her claws into you, yesterday”. “The countess is French", Rosalind said. James shook his head. “She is from New Orleans. An American spy”, he said. “All three parties believe they can use you; that if they have you, they can convince me to sell to them”. Rosalind pushed away her plate, and looked hard at James. “My life and yours are in danger, because you won’t sell a plot of land you’ve never even seen?”, she asked. “They probably won’t kill you like they would me, but rape and torture is certainly a possibility”, James said matter-of-factly. He raised a bottle. “Brandy?”. Rosalind shook her head. “I changed my mind. You are mad, James…”, she said; and pushed her glass forwards. “Make it a double”.

James got on his feet, and walked over to her, filling her glass. “I have a plan to keep you safe, and me alive”, he said. Rosalind raised the glass to her lips, and took a sip. “It is why you must stay here with me – and be my wife again”. Rosalind almost choked on her drink. “I… what?”. James handed her a napkin, and she wiped her mouth. “I am making arrangements to travel to America”, he said, and topped off her glass. “I can continue those preparations in secret, if we convince all three parties that I have instead decided to sell”. “How do we do that?”, Rosalind asked. “By you moving in here permanently”, he said. “They will believe that I have reunited with my wife. We are very happy, and I’ve decided that my future lies in England. It gives me free range to continue my preparations”.

Rosalind got on her feet, and reached for James hand; but he stepped back, to put some distance between them. “James…”, she said almost pleadingly. “Each of the potential buyers will want to keep me happy, so they will all be working to keep each other at bay. No one will touch you”, James said. And neither will you, apparently, Rosalind thought to herself. “This way, you are protected, until it is no longer necessary”. “And when will that be?”. “That is still to be determined”. James went back to his seat. “I am yet to purchase a ship, and I’m also still working on safe passage through the American blockade”. “And after you get that?”, Rosalind asked. “After I get that, I will go. You will be free of me”. He more or less ingested a piece of meat, looking like he could care less about the taste – he was only feeding a hunger, not enjoying a meal. “I will make out papers to leave you Chamber House. You can sell it or stay here, that is up to you… I will also leave you money; enough to keep you comfortable”.

Rosalind felt cold all over. James entire explanation had seemed indifferent to her emotions, how she’d longed for him for so long. “And I cannot come with you?”. He seemed surprised at her question, as if he’d never considered the possibility. “Why would you do that?”, he asked. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Because you are my husband. Because I loved you and you loved me, and maybe…”. “I told you. None of that”. He pushed away his plate. “Now, Mrs. Delaney, I have a use for you, and you have a use for me. Do we have an accord?”.

Rosalind looked at the garnet ring on her right hand. She’d kept it there for 7 years, unable to let go of him; but also, unable to wear it on the finger he had put it on himself, 3 years before that. “Why did you marry me?”, she asked. James met her eyes. His expression warmed; and he furrowed his brow, as if to make himself come across harder than he felt inside. “Because I was selfish. You did not see me as I was – as I am. You saw things in me I wanted to believe were there. It made me want you, but you deserved better”. “I still believe those things about you”. “Then you are a fool”. “I think you are the fool. There is no darkness without light. Goodnight, husband”.

She left the room, and went up the stairs; leaving James to his thoughts and plans.

---

In the morning, Rosalind woke up in determination. If James wanted a wife, he would get one. She held no hope that he would change his mind, and decide that he wanted her back; but if he was insistent on travelling to America – if that was what would make him whatever version of happy it was possible for him to be – she would do her part to make that happen. To add to that, she had no wish to be kidnapped, raped or tortured; and the only way to avoid that, seemed to be to go with the arrangement James had proposed.

Once dressed in her best morning dress, and she had made up her hair in a fashionable yet appropriately demure manner, she made her way downstairs to face her husband. He was not in the sitting room, but she found him nursing what looked like a terrible hangover, in the kitchen. Brace was seated by the fireplace, scratching the dog behind its ears. His face lit up when he saw her. “Good morning, miss Beauchamp!”, he said. “Mrs. Delaney from here on, Brace”, she smiled. The butler’s smile widened. “Coffee?”. He poured her a cup, and she sat down on one of the wobbly chairs, across the table from James; and looked over the kitchen. It was even drearier than the rest of the house; clearly vermin infested, and in need of a cleaning.

“I have terms”, she said. James looked up at her from his own cup; clearly wanting nothing but to be left alone. “Terms? You get protection for as long as needed; then this house, and money to live”, he said. “What else could you want?”. Rosalind took a deep breath, and tried to look as calm as possible. “Yes… the house. No lady with any kind of respect for herself, or her reputation, would live in it, in the state it is in now”, she said. “It must be cleaned; the leaking from the roof must be fixed; the furniture needs mending; and I want new curtains… Oh, and fresh flowers in every room”. “Why?”, James grunted. “I shall have to invite ladies for afternoon tea, and I will not have them gossiping about me being a bad housekeeper”. James looked disgusted at the prospect. “Tea…”. Rosalind smiled brightly. “Yes. Feel free to stay away on such occasions, if you are not comfortable with it. We will also need to light the fireplaces in all the rooms in use. It’s too cold here”. “There is not warmth in the Delaney house”, her husband grunted. “There will be now”, she retorted. “Hmm…”, James said. “Anything else?” “Yes”, she replied, and took a sip of her coffee. “The cleaning of the house shall extend to its inhabitants. Including the dog. Does he have a name?”. “Yes”, James growled. “It’s dog”. “Hmm”, Rosalind nodded.

Brace cleared his throat. “If I am to clean this whole house…”, he began. “You will not have to do it alone. We will employ a maid”. The butler’s eyes widened in fear. “Just for propriety’s sake, Brace. Don’t worry. She does not need to live here, and I can tend to my own dressing in the morning”. “You seem quite capable of that”, James muttered, and gave her a once over. “Ah, a compliment! How kind of you, husband”, Rosalind jeered. “You will of course have to extend those on occasion, especially in company, and when we promenade in public”. “I do not promenade”, James said, and took a sip of his coffee. “You do now. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, after church”. James sputtered in disbelief and disgust. “We must keep up appearances, James. Otherwise, this will never work”. James let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a growl. “Agreed”, he said, and got on his feet.

“One last thing”, Rosalind said, halting him. James looked about ready to throw something heavy. “I will do my part to make your travelling to America possible; but as long as you are here, you will treat me with the respect a wife deserves. I do not expect you to be kind, or in any way affectionate and loving – you have made it clear that is not possible for you – but you will speak to me with curtesy, be honest and faithful; and never again imply that I am a whore”. “You dislike whores?”, James asked, a smile ghosting his face. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met one, so cannot say I do. After all, a woman must do what she can to survive in this world”, Rosalind replied. “But personally, I prefer sex without monetary exchange".

She got on her feet, and with a final smile, she left the kitchen; leaving a flabbergasted looking butler, and an angry looking husband in her wake. Rosalind smirked to herself, as she went to her room, to write down her plans for the renovation of Chamber House.

Soon after, she heard the front door slam, and felt the house shake from the sheer force of it.

---

She took in her lunch and dinner alone. In the evening, she was brushing her hair by the vanity, when her bedroom door opened, and James stood there, wet from the rainfall, and a devil in his eyes. Droplets of water fell from the brim of his hat, and onto his already soaking coat.

“Who?”, he said hoarsely. “What?”, Rosalind asked, shaken by his demeanor. “Who did you fuck?”, he growled. “Who did you let in you bed, while you belonged to me?”. She swallowed hard, and tried for a proud expression. “Maybe there was someone before you…”, she said. “No. You were untouched when I left. Now you are not. Who?”. He walked closer to her, and she got on her feet, backing away. “Geary?”. “No! I would never… Never him".

James grabbed her hand, and held it up in front of his, as if examining it. His grip on her wasn’t painful, but there was no way of releasing herself from it. He was strong, and had his mind set in one thing. Answers. They had not stood so close in years. “Then, who did this hand bring pleasure, hmm?”. He tugged her close, and with a firm grip on her wrist, he used his free arm to hold her in place against him; pressing it against her lower back. Rutting his hips forwards, they met hers, and Rosalind found it difficult to breathe, from the friction James' movement created. “And this? Tell me…”.

James broad frame was tense as a bowstring about to snap. His wet coat made the fabric of Rosalind’s nightgown damp, and she shivered, both from cold and from James pressing his groin against her own. “If I tell you, what will you do?”, she whispered. “I will kill him, for touching what is mine", James replied. “You left behind what was yours 10 years ago”, Rosalind retorted. “Since then, it has been mine to do with as I please. And for that, I will not let you commit murder. Do you mean to tell me you never laid with another woman while you were gone?". James growled some words Rosalind didn’t understand. She looked him in the eyes, never blinking or turning her gaze. She would not be intimidated. She was not in the wrong. “You don’t want me anymore. You should not be disturbed by the idea that another man does".

Unable to keep eye contact, James stepped back, letting out a snarling hiss, before turning around, and storming out of the room. “You left me, James. You left!”, Rosalind called after him. He slammed the door shut, and she fell to her knees, finally giving in to tears of heartache and a frustration over a need not fulfilled. She wanted her husband, soul and body; her own was practically screaming for his touch.

After a while, she climbed in to bed, and fell asleep, numb and empty of tears.

---

There were noises from the attic all night. Rosalind woke more than once, believing she’d heard voices, or maybe just one voice, having a conversation with itself.

When she woke in the morning, she spent some time mentally preparing herself for another day of loveless matrimony; and an, in spite of that, jealous husband. Then again, jealousy might be the wrong word. For all she knew, he might just be unhappy that someone touched his property. Brace had prepared breakfast for her in the sitting room. The house seemed, for once, not to be making a sound, and the silence was almost deafening.

“Where is he?”, she asked, once Brace entered the room, to take away James' uneaten breakfast. ”Finding another way to get himself killed, I’m sure", Brace grunted. “He left before sunrise”. “Why is he like this?”, Rosalind sighed. “What broke him?”. Brace looked at her with pained eyes. “James was broken long before he even knew it himself”, he said. “Whatever happened to him after he left England just brought it out, I’m afraid”. “I wish I had known…”. “Would you not have married him then?”. “I would. But maybe if I’d known, I could have…”. She couldn’t finish the sentence. “Saved him?”, Brace said. She looked down. “I believe that was his hope as well. I never saw him more alive, than just after he met and proposed to you”. “Then why did he leave?”, she whispered. “That is not for me to say, ma’am. But if he could have stayed, I believe he would have”. The butler gave her a sad smile disappeared out of the room again; leaving Rosalind to ponder his words, and remember.

---

There had been a ball, with drinks that were far too strong. She’d worn her favorite gown; one of red velvet, that she had made herself. Cadets from the academy had been present, and she’d not wanted for dance-partners. The only uniformed man who would not dance, stood brooding in a corner; gazing towards her once in a while. He looked deep in thought, and whatever that thought was, had put a deep furrow between his brows. Something made her want to see him smile, and when her partner in the next dance stepped on her toes for the third time, she caught the cadet’s gaze, and rolled her eyes. A hint of a smile traced his lips, and she felt her heart flutter at the sight. They’d spent the rest of the night in conversation, and when no one had looked he had broken all rules of propriety, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of her lips. She had told herself that it was intoxication that had held her from slapping him; but truthfully, she knew better.

They had spent every chance they had the next month together, and whenever they had a private moment, their lips would meet; with each kiss growing bolder and more heated. Rosalind lived for his smiles and his gentle fingertips grazing her cheek. She knew it was lust, but she also knew it was love; and when suddenly he had dropped on one knee, she had not hesitated to agree to marry him.

They were wed six weeks after their meeting, with Rosalind never having been surer of anything in her life, than of James’ love for her, and hers for him. Then came the wedding night. With her heart in her chest, she had waited in what would be their bedroom from then on. He’d never entered the room, and she didn’t see him again for another 10 years.

---

The rest of the morning passed quietly. Unable to leave the house, Rosalind resolved to entertain herself by getting acquainted with the dog; who seemed to have no problem eating the salted beef she herself could not stomach. As she sat on the sofa to embroider, it fell asleep with its head on her feet. In the afternoon, she read the first three chapters of a book, before realizing that someone had ripped out pages from it; probably having used them for kindling. Boredom was taking over, but luckily Brace was obliged to play a few rounds of cards with her, before he had to tend to the kitchen. She noticed movement outside, and looking out the window, she saw a pair of rugged looking men tending to the garden, trying to make it look presentable.

James returned to the house just after she’d finished her dinner, with a young, dirty looking woman at his heels. He stepped in to the sitting room with a glum look on his face. “Your maid”, he said. “She will be here only during the day”. “I have employment elsewhere to attend to”, the young woman said; not meeting Rosalind’s eyes. Rosalind got on her feet and approached her husband. “I would have liked to speak to her, before you hired her”, she said. James stepped towards the dining table, away from Rosalind, and poured himself a brandy. “She has experience in the service industry, and you said you did not dislike whores”. The young woman stifled a smile.

Rosalind sighed defeatedly. “Right. What is your name, miss?”, she asked the woman. “Pearl, Mrs. Delaney”, the woman replied. “I’m glad to meet you, Pearl. Are you aware what your duties will be, as a maid?”. “Cleaning things, I suppose”, Pearl said. “I can’t cook, but I can make tea”. Pearl suddenly looked nervous that she might be sent away. “I don’t steal, and I don’t have no diseases!”. Rosalind smiled at her. “I’m sure you will do fine, Pearl. And we have Brace for cooking; don’t worry”. Pearl visibly relaxed. Rosalind noticed James looking at her through the corner of his eye, as he drank from his glass. “We shall have to find you a suitable dress, of course… Oh, and; I will on occasion receive guests here. I would very much appreciate it if you did not mention your other profession when I do”. “Just keep quiet whenever strangers are in the house”, James grunted. Rosalind sent him a chiding look. “When can you start?”, she asked. “Whenever you need me, ma’am”. “Tomorrow at 10 am, then”, Rosalind smiled. Pearl curtsied awkwardly, and took her leave.

Rosalind went back to sit on the sofa, and James took his seat in the chair across from her. He drained his glass, and set it down on the table next to him. Brace had left the mail for him there, and he picked it up, before seemingly remembering something. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out another letter. “This arrived for you at your former lodgings. Your landlady has opened and resealed it”, he said, and leaned forwards to hand it to her. “It’s from Mr. Geary”. “Did you read it as well?”, she muttered, and took the letter. “No, but I recognize his handwriting on the address. It looks like it was written in less anger than the one he sent me yesterday, threatening to kill me if I did not disappear from England again”. His tone was indifferent. “Well, I suppose it’s good you’re on your way to be doing that, then”, Rosalind said. He met her eyes again, and grunted nonsensically, before sitting back and going through his own mail.

Rosalind opened Geary’s letter.

To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Fanny Owen

My dearest Rosalind. I came to call upon you this Friday, but was told you were visiting with the countess Musgrove. It was my wish to extend my apologies for my unfortunate behavior when I saw you last. I realize I might have come across coarse in my manner of showing my affections towards you; but I pray you understand that I was struck by the urgency of the matter. With Delaney’s return, you see how I felt it necessary to make my plans of having you for my wife, known to you. I understand that for propriety’s sake, you had to let him escort you home; but I also know that deep in your heart you must long for me, as I do for you. Delaney will either fake his death, and leave England again, leaving you as heiress to the fortune – and the American piece of land – or actually die. Either way, you will be free of him; and we will be free to marry. We will have a rich and prosperous future together, my darling. With all my heart; Thorne.

Rosalind sighed and shook her head. “Another proposal?”, James asked. “Yes, actually”, she replied, and handed him the letter. James read through it quickly. “Well, he’s right about one thing. Before too long, you will be free to marry… Even him, if you’re daft enough to do so”. “He only wants me, because he thinks he can get your money that way”, Rosalind said. Picking up her needlework, she accidentally pricked her finger. “Fuck!”, she hissed, and put her bleeding finger in her mouth. James looked at her in startled amusement; his lips curling upwards. “I think you underestimate yourself”.

She got on her feet, and went to leave the room, when she made a decision, and turned around to face James again. “His name was William”, she said. James looked at her in confusion, before realization came through in his eyes. “William”, he grunted, and looked into the fire. “He was a soldier, but that is as much as I learnt about him”, Rosalind continued. “I was widowed, lonely and heartbroken; and for a moment, he made me believe I could be happy again”. “It only took him a moment, then?”, James said with a cold smile; but frowned when she began walking towards the door. “Rose…”. She halted, and looked at him again. “Don’t call me that…”, she said quietly. “I cannot bear to hear it now. That is what you called me when you loved me”. “No one else has ever called you that?”, he grunted. Rosalind shook her head, and swallowed hard. “No. That at least, was only ever yours. Good night”.

She retired to her bedroom.

---

She was in a forest, strange sounds and whispers surrounding her. He grabbed her shoulders from behind her, and leaned in to whisper into her ear. “Rose… my Rose”, he said. “Am I?”, she whispered. His arms snaked around her waist, and she leaned into his chest; feeling his lips against her cheek. “Yes. Always”. She turned around, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Not out there. Out there I am nothing to you. It is agony, my love”.

He leaned back, and put a finger under her chin; smiling at her. “Then let us stay here. We don’t have to go back”. The whispering around them intensified, and Rosalind looked around her. “I can’t live in a dream”. James took her right hand, and pulled the garnet ring from her finger; then lifted her left hand, and slid it onto her ring finger. “This is where it belongs, Rose”, he breathed, and leaned in; placing a soft kiss on her lips.

She woke with a gasp. Looking at her right hand, she panicked when she saw that the ring was gone from her finger. She frantically searched the bedsheets and cover to see where it had gone to; when she saw that it was right where it belonged. On her left ring finger.

---

[btsmosphere]

Snowstorm | MYG

~summary:

Strange things happen in the woods when you return home for Christmas. And why does your mum insist you stay away from Min Yoongi?

Yoongi x female reader

~word count: 6k

~magic au, jack frost au, childhood friend au, angst, fluff

Rating: pg

Warnings: overbearing parent, rumours and gossip, swearing, storms and bad weather

~a/n: this is a repost, I put this up this morning but for some reaason it hasn’t shown up in the tags so I am trying again. ~original a/n: got this one out just in time... this is my fic for November keyword ‘magic’ for @thebtswritersclub​!! This started from the bingo square ‘jack frost’, one I wasn’t sure whether to write, but it was perfect for a magic au, so I hope you enjoy it! Keep a lookout for more festive fics from me over December,, I’ve just realised quite how many fics I have to find time to write among my end of term essays yAy

They’re cutting the trees down in the forest.

It’s not as young as it once was, but neither are you. You come back to it every year, these woods. Someone needs to look after it. Not like you do that, but at least taking the time to come back and see it makes you feel a little better.

Maybe you aren’t looking after it, but at least you’re looking.

Being home from college is… fun. Mostly.

You love your family, but you sure as hell love these woods too, for when you’ve had enough. There’s one tree that forks into two, right at the heart, that you cried under countless times throughout your childhood.

Now it’s more for nostalgia. Coming home for the long college holidays, you’ve grown up and your family let you do your thing, so you don’t generally have a need to sob your heart out in the wilderness anymore.

Wow, this is making your childhood sound really bad. It wasn’t.

But whenever it was, the woods were there.

Winter is making itself felt now, air slowly numbing your face and fingers. You trail them across the bark of a tree you pass before digging them reluctantly into your coat pockets.

This tree doesn’t look too healthy. Though it still felt normal, the bark is thinning. You wonder if it will live to see new leaves in the spring.

Overhead, the dappled grey sky bears a heavier shadow. You should probably be getting back soon. Making your way, without hurrying, towards the edge of the trees, you trod over their forgotten leaves as they faded into the ground.

Soon the soft carpet of the forest petered out and you found yourself on the familiar roads that led back to your house.

No one else really seemed to be about apart from you. Except for whoever that was that just came around the corner. Hold on-

Is Min Yoongi back here? Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod-

Sucking in a deep breath, you did your utmost to avoid staring at him, eyes trailing along the ground instead. As you drew closer to each other, your grew heartbeat louder in your ears.

Now that wasn’t fair. You were meant to be over this.

But of course that was never the case.

Min Yoongi had grown up here too, a boisterous child that grew into a reserved teenager. What he was doing with himself now, you had no idea, but what was important is that he was here right now. Because maybe the monster crush you harboured for him had never really gone away.

In school, you two had been friends. Not the closest, but you would hang out together, always too shy to really talk. Now the course of life had taken you two apart; you weren’t sure you had spoken to him since you were sixteen.

Okay, he was only steps away now. You had to stay calm.

Act natural. Pretend you haven’t seen him.

Wait, no. That would be impossible. There’s only the two of you on this road, how could you not notice him?

You didn’t want to come off as rude if you ignored him.

In your panic, you looked up to find his eyes trained on you already. While your brain was busy short-circuiting, you settled for a small smile and a quick wave.

For one mortifying moment, you thought he didn’t recognise you at all. His eyebrows remained slightly creased, but just as you were nearly past him, his eyes widened.

“Y/N!”

The wide smile that had taken over his face retreated into a small, shy one as you stopped.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you smiled back.

“What are you up to?” he asked, glancing briefly to the end of the road you had just come from. Towards the forest.

“Just out for a walk,” you explained, “getting away from my family for a bit.”

“I can understand that,” he laughed quietly, scratching absently behind one ear.

“I didn’t realise you were back here,” you prompted after he trailed off, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, and you,” he nodded, “it’s strange being back sometimes, but it’s good you’re here too.”

Despite the cold, your felt heat in your cheeks. What did he just say?

“I-I mean,” he stuttered, “like, it’s weird, when things are different than you remember them , and so it’s nice when you see someone familiar… yeah.”

“Yeah, yeah, I totally get you,” you swallowed, laughing nervously, “like the forest, it’s not the same anymore-“

“Not the same,” he grimaced, then froze, realising you spoke in unison.

Wide eyed, laughter bubbled from both of you

“Are you going there now?” you asked, “it’s a bit cold isn’t it?”

As the two of you had stood talking, the light had steadily drained from the sky.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he smirked.

Surprised by his sudden confidence, you just smiled.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I should probably be getting home, though.”

“Sure,” he nodded quickly.

“See you.”

Glancing at the inky sky, you turned to leave, hands delving deeper into the warmth of your coat pockets, when Yoongi cleared his throat behind you.

“Um…”

Now a few steps away from him, you looked over your shoulder.

“We should catch up some time. Properly. If-if you’d like.”

“Yeah, sure,” you smiled widely.

“Nice. I’ll, um, see you soon.”

He gave you a wave, smile dancing on his lips. The moment you turned away, you bit your lip, trying to contain your grin. Practically bouncing your way home, your cheeks were burning by the time you reached your front door.

Stiff fingers fiddling with the key, at last you let yourself in.

No doubt hearing you stomping your shoes on the doormat, your mum came around the corner.

“You were gone a while,” she observed.

“Yeah, bumped into Yoongi on the way back,” you begrudgingly explained.

“Min Yoongi?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I remember when you used to have a silly crush on that boy!” she laughed. Kicking your shoes off, you rolled your eyes but followed her through to the kitchen.

“His family’s always been very strange though,” she continued, “they don’t really talk to anyone. Half the time I don’t even know if there’s anyone at home.”

“You’re spying on their house now?” you joked.

“Well, when they’re shut in all summer, you can’t help wondering,” she defended, “very strange, the lot of them… you would do well to stay away from them, Y/N.”

“But-“

“You’re not even friends with him, why should it be an issue?”

“You’re right,” you sighed.

It was easier to let it slide.

They’re cutting the trees down in the forest.

Walking between the ones that still stand, Yoongi’s mind is still full of you. At least someone else still saw this place. Still cared.

And truth be told, he still cared about you. A chance to see the forest and a chance to speak to you were what kept bringing him back. It would be easy to find another forest somewhere, some wide open space, wilder than this.

But there was a soft spot in his heart for his hometown.

Raising a hand above his head, he sent the last few leaves clinging to a branch spiralling down to the floor on a gust of wind. As he lowered his arm, he let his fingers trail across the bark, leaving frost in their wake.

It was hard, having to hide. His mother told him he couldn’t get close to anyone here. Anyone that didn’t know.

Even playing with you as five-year-olds had been crossing the line, apparently.

On the ground, the leaves cleared from his path. The wind blew colder, skeletal branches rattling together as clouds knitted closer together above.

At the heart of the forest, there was a tree whose trunk forked into two. Climbing nimbly up into the gap, he settled himself and planted his palms against the bark.

“Y/N, go and fetch the bin. It’s frosty again.”

Without questioning, you did as your mother said. She was right about the frost. Unlike her, though, you adored it. Just outside your doorstep, you stopped to stare at the thin coating of white that covered the street.

Every house, every garden, every car was painted with the delicate brush strokes of winter.

Once you had tugged the bin up the drive, you found your mother still talking inside.

“Thanks, love,” she smiled, placing a bowl in front of you, “gosh, I can’t wait for summer again. I can’t stand it’s so cold all the time.”

Instead of voicing your disagreement, you hummed noncommittally as you poured yourself some cereal.

Maybe you would go back to the forest later. It was all you daydreamed about as you munched on your breakfast before retreating to your room.

Until someone knocked on the door.

What you hadn’t seen was the fist hovering over wood, raising and lowering countless times before it finally sounded through your house. Frowning, you stood from your bed and peeked around your window frame.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of your house.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of your house.

The distinct sound of the door swinging open downstairs snapped you from your reverie, frozen on the spot. Shutting your gaping mouth, you looked around, panicked. Your mother was speaking.

You crossed your room in no less than two strides, throwing the door open and speeding down the stairs.

“What brings you here?” your mum was saying as you dashed up behind her.

“Hi Yoongi!” you exclaimed, panting slightly, “thanks mum.”

But of course she couldn’t take the hint. As you waited with bated breath for her to leave the two of you alone, she just looked slowly between you instead.

“You’re here to see my daughter?”

Yoongi swallowed hard under her stare.

“Yes, he is, mum,” you spoke, tone strained.

Really, sometimes it was like you never left. You felt like you had been transported straight back to your school years, asking your mum for permission to go out.

“And we’re going out,” you said firmly when greeted with silence.

Grabbing your coat, you slipped past her.

“Strange to see him out,” she muttered.

Praying Yoongi didn’t hear her sly comment, you hastily shut the door.

“Sorry,” you grimaced, “where do you fancy?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Following his lead, you fell into step, heading away from your house.

“I see why you prefer the trees for company.”

Now that startled a laugh out of you. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you stared at Yoongi walking beside you. He didn’t seem fazed, suddenly confident again beside you, hands buried in his hoodie as he kicked his feet walking along.

Lost quickly in conversation, you walked together until you found him leading you towards a small café.

“Drink?” he asked.

“Um, yeah, hot chocolate?” you answered timidly.

Smiling, he disappeared inside and reappeared very soon with two steaming takeaway cups.

“Thanks,” you breathed, taking one warm cup from his fingers and cradling it between your own.

“Didn’t want you to get cold.”

And it certainly did help. Of course you next walked down towards the woods, without a word passing between you about your destination. With the warmth flowing through you, you were perfectly content to keep going through the chilly air as you ditched the cups in a bin.

“Do you remember when Tae got stuck in that tree?” Yoongi commented.

Looking to where he gestured, you laughed.

“It was that one?”

“Yep, it’s still got that branch snapped off,” he pointed.

“Oh, yeah,” you giggled, “that feels so long ago now, doesn’t it?”

Sighing, he took another sip.

“Yeah. It does.”

Silence settled for a short moment, only your muffled steps sounding in the woods.

“Do you know if the others ever come back here?” you wondered aloud.

“Haven’t seen any of them,” he shrugged.

Way back when, there was a huge group at school, which was how you grew connected to Yoongi. There was still a group chat buried somewhere in your phone, but you hadn’t heard from most of them in a long time.

“It’s just us then,” you mused.

“I guess it is,” Yoongi said, a large smile spreading onto his face.

Then he halted, stooping down to the floor. Beside him, you watched him in confusion.

Until he sprung up, a handful of fallen leaves suddenly finding their way into your face.

“Yah!” you shrieked, throwing your hands up too late.

As the last one fell from your spluttering face, you found the shape of Yoongi several trees away, running. Mouth falling open, you instantly gave chase, quickly reaching down for a bundle of your own leaves.

“Min Yoongi!” you yelled, a reply reaching you in the form of his breathless laughter.

Pushing yourself on, your feet pounded towards him. He slowed, going over a slope, giving you opportunity enough to catch up, launching the leaves at his back.

“Argh!” he laughed, arms flapping from beneath the flurry of leaves.

But you couldn’t revel in your revenge for long, as another faceful of leaves was booted towards you. You only caught a glimpse of his gummy smile for a moment before he saw your glare and bolted again.

A gust of wind hindered you pursuit, throwing more soggy leaves at you.

Up ahead, Yoongi was scrambling up a tree. Just as you reached it, he seated himself on a branch, out of your reach. Breathless with laughter, you still tried, flinging leaves up in the air towards him.

They barely reached his feet, swinging above you, instead floating for a pathetic moment before falling right back on top of you.

Shaking them from your head, you heard Yoongi’s loud laughter above you.

Looking up, you were met with an enormous gummy smile as he slipped back down the tree, dropping deftly onto the ground, shoulders still shaking with laughter.

“Sorry,” he panted.

He reached a hand out towards you then. Frozen in surprise, you watched as his thumb met your nose, quickly swiping across it. Cold lingered there as his hand came away, a slight smudge of mud wiped on it.

Self consciously rubbing your nose yourself, you let out a chuckle, a shiver passing through you only a moment later.

“Shit, are you cold?” his smile faltered.

“It’s okay,” you assured, “we’ve just been running about. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he frowned slightly.

Turning away a little, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Going with him, you two headed across the woods to the other edge, where you could look over your town as it fell away into countryside. The sky was striped with clouds, yellowish light dimming behind them.

This felt good.

You’ve always liked this forest, hated sharing it with anyone else. But you didn’t mind with Yoongi. After so long, it was odd how quickly you felt comfortable. How fast your feelings resurfaced.

And you couldn’t help wondering…

“Hey, Yoongi?”

“Hmm?”

“Was this… meant to mean anything?”

“What do you mean?” he turned towards you.

You swallowed. Fuck. You might have just shoved your foot in it.

“Er, well, I mean, like, a date or something?” you spoke nervously.

The moment his eyebrows raised, you were certain you had made a mistake.

“Well, no…”

Oh shit.

“But it can be.”

You blinked.

“Say that again?”

“It can be,” he chuckled, warm smile making another appearance.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure I heard you right,” you said, stunned, turning back to the view. Then you glanced back at him. “So you wouldn’t be opposed to a date?”

“Nope,” he shook his head.

“With me?”

A chuckle responded. “Yes, Y/N. With you.”

In the corner of your eye, a flicker of movement. But then it stopped. Looking around, you saw Yoongi return his hand to his pocket, casting his eyes down.

By the time you were both approaching your driveway again, it was forgotten. You were practically glowing.

Until you saw the figure of your mother in the front window.

The moment she laid eyes on you, she was gone from the window and appeared in the doorway instead.

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered, sharing a glance with Yoongi, “this has been really fun…”

Getting the message, he sent you a smile that squeezed his eyes.

Then he slowed beside you and you carried on, pulling away with a smile of your own.

As you drew closer, your mum stepped out and down the steps.

“Are you alright? Where did you go?” she asked straight away.

She really was worried about this, huh?

“Mum, it’s fine,” you frowned, unable to help the look over your shoulder, “we just went for a walk, what’s the problem?”

If this was her reaction to you spending time with the guy platonically, you thought it safer to leave out the other details for now.

“I told you, something’s not right with him,” she hissed, clearly trying to keep a low voice. Not that she was successful.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” you urged.

Glancing back just before you closed the door, you saw Yoongi turning away. You longed to reach for him, call out to him…

The door clicked shut.

In front of you, your mother stood with folded arms.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“I don’t know about him, Y/N,” she shook her head, “since he was a child, he’s always been… different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, whenever there was an accident on the playground, he always seemed to be around. All of us parents knew, it’s why I told you to be careful with him.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Vaguely, you recalled her saying something like that, but you must have been very small. Either way, perhaps you did stray away from him on the playground.

“No one ever knew for sure, but there were rumours,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead, “maybe he was just troublesome and liked pushing other kids over, but then his family… they never tried to fit in here.”

“And the town gossip has you this worried?” you asked, incredulous.

“I was pleased you were staying away from him in school,” she glared at you, “so where’s this come from? I hoped that silly crush was over.”

“If I was in trouble I would tell you, and you know that,” you stepped forwards, “but I can be with whoever I like! I’m not in school anymore, and Yoongi’s a grown adult too.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards.

“So you’re with him now?”

“…maybe, but what does it matter? It’s what I want to do, mum, I’ll be fine.”

Met with your pleading eyes, she merely glared back, arms tightly folded. She exhaled steadily through her nose.

“Just come and have dinner.”

It started snowing.

You knew your mum wouldn’t want you to go outside in that. But maybe that made it all the more appealing.

She wasn’t over it, and you knew it. Sly comments kept coming your way over dinner, riling you up. Why was she letting schoolground gossip get in the way of you and Yoongi?

By the end of dinner, you were reaching the end of your tether.

If you could just go for a walk, cool off. Literally. Stepping outside, you already hugged your coat a little bit tighter around you.

Just to the forest and back, not far beyond the streetlights, then come back. But as your feet stomped through the newly settling snow, stray flakes catching in your hair, your scowl never lifted.

Your mum had never been too controlling, so why was she so riled up about this one thing? And something that was so important to you? Since school you had had a crush on Yoongi, all those years hanging onto every smile, every laugh, and now something was finally coming true.

Of course that wouldn’t be allowed. Of course, in her book, a bad child grew into a bad adult.

It was true that this town could be very self-contained and you were well used to news circulating. No wonder you hadn’t seen Yoongi back here before. You wanted this to be your chance.

Head turned down against the oncoming snow, you blinked cold flakes from your eyelashes. It was thicker now, blurring in front of you when you looked up.

A gust of wind threaded its fingers through your hair, biting across your slightly damp face. Shoulders hunching, you tried to look around you. Acting of their own accord, your feet had carried you to the forest.

You should head back.

Turning on the spot, you squinted through the darkness for the streetlights at the edge of the trees.

But darkness surrounded you.

Stomach dropping, you rubbed your hands together in front of you. Definitely should have worn gloves.

The white that now coated the forest floor and its branches reflected the precious little moonlight that could reach you here, letting you know you were among the larger trees. Your mind whirled with panic almost as fast as the snow falling around you.

When a shiver shook your frame, you knew you had to move.

If you picked a direction, you would surely find a way back eventually. The forest wasn’t that big, was it?

Maybe they had cut down some trees, but it turned out the woodland was not small. At least, it didn’t feel that way when cold water was seeping through your jeans and clinging to your face and hair. Try as you might to carve out a straight path, the snowstorm was growing, wind forcing you to lower your head.

Still, all you could see was darkness, the ghosts of trees looming from behind the blizzard in the air.

Sniffling, you tried to fight off the panicked tears threatening to spill. This had all been a bad idea. You just wanted to get home.

But unbeknownst to you, someone else was in the woods too.

Not many trees away, perched in his usual spot, Yoongi’s palms met the gnarled bark as he channelled his energy. The storm fell peacefully around him. Breathing deeply, he felt himself letting go.

He knew what this town thought of him. He hadn’t been careful enough, like his parents had told him to. He just never thought that anyone would still remember, not least your mother.

But he couldn’t claim she was wrong. Being Jack Frost came with its dangers, its responsibilities.

And he should have known better. He just wanted you, badly enough that he decided to go for it against his better judgement.

His sadness made itself known in storms like this: not violent or noisy, just cold.

As the white flakes filled the air, he looked out across the darkness of the forest. Wind tugged gently at his white hair but the snow didn’t touch him, evaporating before it hit his shoulders.

He called another gust of wind, threading it through the air, across the land.

When it reached him, it carried something with it.

His eyes opened, looking around through the storm to see where it had come from. It was normal for the branches to rattle, for animals to scurry home, but that wasn’t either sound. It sounded like a person. And not a happy one.

No one else should be out here.

Turning his head left and right, he finally made out a shadowy shape a few trees away.

Quickly and quietly, he slid off his perch, obscuring his body with the trunk of the tree. Around him, the snow calmed a little, drifting calmly once more.

As the person walked closer, he saw them wipe a hand across their cheek. And that sound came again. Were they… crying?

Louder this time, and finally they stepped into a lighter patch…

His eyes widened. What the hell were you doing out here? Assessing you with a flick of his eyes, he knew you must be freezing.

When you stopped suddenly, turning around as your shoulders slumped, he had to force himself to stay behind his tree.

Briefly wetting his lips with his tongue, he looked towards the shortest way out. Why weren’t you going that way? Instead, you were stumbling off in the opposite direction, looking to the ground.

“No,” he muttered urgently, head darting between you and the right path.

Then he made a snap decision.

Pursing his lips, he called up a gust of wind with a quirk of his hand, stopping you in your tracks as it collided with you forcefully. With wide eyes, you whipped around as the wind charged through the forest, carving a winding channel through the trees.

And on the path it tracked, the snow stopped, hovering in stasis along the sides as if lighting the way.

Not daring to breathe, Yoongi studied your face carefully as you stared at the space path he had created. Slowly coming to your senses, you turned your head. He ducked back behind the trunk, breaths falling shallow from his lips.

The snow suspended in the air waited with him until crunching footsteps met his ears.

Peering back out, he watched your form retreating through the woods, perfectly framed between the trees as you trod the right path.

He watched you go, knowing what he had to do.

The snow fell thicker.

Yoongi would come around soon. The day after your little escapade into the storm, he hadn’t shown his face. But that was fine. It would be weird to come back the day after your first… whatever it was. Right?

But today, he would come.

And when he did, you would make sure you got his number. In a town like this, he could easily come knocking, like he had the other day, but you were sick of waiting around like this.

All day you had been restless, failing to keep yourself from the window as you hoped to see him walking down your road. You longed to tell him about what you had seen in the woods that night.

It had taken you a while to decide you hadn’t dreamt it. But the chills running though you and the damp clothes on your radiator said otherwise. Sure, you had always felt a connection with the woods, but you never expected them to do something in return.

That was what happened, though. They had shown you the way home through the storm.

Last night, you had braved the cold to go there again. The snow lay harmlessly on the ground by now, but you had still kept your wits about you and gone before dark.

Nothing.

Maybe it would just be your little secret.

Or yours and Yoongi’s, if he ever turned up.

The urge to look out of the window returned, and you fought valiantly. Staring at the ceiling was a lot less productive than staring outside, so eventually you stood.

And gaped.

He was actually there!

Right on your driveway, biting his lip as he looked up at your house.

Or maybe…

He was looking at your mum. You stilled, having been ready to race downstairs, but now you watched in horror as your mum marched down the drive.

“Sorry, Yoongi,” you heard, “Y/N isn’t in.”

“Oh, sorry Mrs L/N,” he bowed his head, “I just wanted to talk to her-“

“Well you’ll be doing no such thing,” she snapped, “she won’t be getting mixed up with you. I think you should leave now.”

Hands shaking as they gripped the window frame, you were ready to run out to them, when you heard something in response. It was quiet, so you had to strain to hear it, but when you did you could only stare.

“Could you just… could you tell her that I like her? A lot.”

Your mum scoffed, but as she opened her mouth he continued, looking at the floor.

“-and I won’t be seeing her again. You’re right. I’ll stay away.”

Rooted on the spot, you could only gape as the figures of Yoongi and your mother stood still outside. Then your mum broke the silence.

“Very good.”

“Will you tell her?”

“You should leave,” she said firmly.

Shoulders slumping, he turned away, not even looking back. His footsteps carrying him away were what finally made you move.

“Yoongi!” you shouted, tearing down the stairs as the door slammed.

“Y/N,” your mother’s voice warned.

“What is going on!” you asked desperately, trying to move around her only to be blocked.

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“No! That’s not true! I heard him-“

“He won’t be seeing you then. It’s for the best.”

“Why?” you cried, tears pricking at your eyes, “what is so wrong with him?”

But instead of an equal retaliation, she heaved a sigh. Blinking furiously, you watched her raise her eyes to meet yours.

“His family… they’ve lived here as long as ours. They’re all strange. Weird things happen. Some sort of… magic. And they don’t mix with us. Never have, but that’s how it should be. They’re not like us, Y/N,” she finished with emphasis.

Meanwhile, a frown had taken over your face.

“That’s- what- that’s ridiculous!” you spluttered, “he’s not magic! And if he is, I don’t care!”

And with that, you pushed past her, tumbling out onto the drive, eyes desperately scanning the bare street.

But you didn’t stop there. Ignoring the defeated calls of your mother, you started running. Yoongi couldn’t have got far; and anyway, you had an idea where he might have gone. You had to catch up. You couldn’t let go of him this easily.

Feet pounding hard on the ground beneath you, you barely noticed the darkening sky above you. Clouds swirled together, looming over your small town.

The wind picked up, throwing your hair back in your face as it tore back and forth across the path. As you dashed at last between the shadows of trees, the floor was practically crawling as leaves tossed themselves along the ground.

Some launched upwards as powerful gusts rushed through the bare branches above, and soon the pummelling of hail joined the rattling of the trees.

Stumbling to a stop deep in the forest, you whirled around, trying to spot Yoongi. Wind continued to assault you, swirling in all directions in the air, trees groaning among the whooshing air.

“Yoongi!” you called at the top of your lungs. Your voice was lost instantly in the cacophony of the storm, stinging hailstones on your cheeks the only response.

Exhaling swiftly, you took off once more, still calling out.

And then you saw him.

Shoulders hunched, his outstretched arms were braced against a tree. Though his head was lowered, you could see the heaving of his chest.

Picking up the pace, you smiled in relief.

“Yoongi!”

Instantly, he sprung away from the tree, head darting around him as he looked for you. But when he met your eyes, they only grew.

And then he was running too.

Away from you.

“Hey! Yoongi!” you shouted after him.

But a roar from the forest drowned you out.

Running faster, hail chucked itself spitefully into your face, the wind surging against you from the darkening sky. Struggling on, you held your hands in front of your face, only lowering them when you trailed to a stop.

Yoongi was nowhere in sight.

Something was wrong. Why was he running away from you?

A loud creak from somewhere above you made you wince. Moving again, you called out Yoongi’s name into the storm.

The hail let up a little as you pressed on, but the raging air only grew more forceful. Creaks and groans from the battered trees surrounded you. Squinting around you, you let your feet stumble on, needing to find him. Among the storm, you could barely hear your thumping footsteps.

An ear-splitting creak made you flinch, head whipping around.

The dark shape of a tree trunk was growing bigger – growing closer.

A blur then, your eyes squeezing shut by instinct, awaiting the crash of the giant hitting the earth.

Nothing.

Cracking your eyelids open, the wind lulled in the air around you, silence buzzing loud in your ears. In front of you, the tree was tilting dangerously, towering directly over you, but caught in mid-air. And holding it up, a colossal sheet of ice, jagged icicles sticking out to one side as if from impact.

You blinked. Let out a breath.

Following the trail of ice, you turned to the side.

There, hand still outstretched, panting slightly, stood Min Yoongi.

“I’m sorry,” he half-whispered.

As you stared blankly back in shock, his eyes flicked back to the tree above you.

“Come here,” he spoke, beckoning you with his other hand.

Obeying, you trod carefully towards him. Once near enough, he gently placed a hand on your sweater-covered arm, guiding you to his side.

As you watched, he lowered his left hand slowly, the wall of ice retracting with it, melting back into the ground. With barely a bump, the tree was lowered to rest.

Returning your eyes gingerly to the boy beside you, your gaze was not returned.

His eyelids shut, lips pressing together as he bowed his head, bringing his arm back to his side at last. He swallowed.

“Y-yoongi?” you whispered.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he muttered, still not meeting your eyes, “I should never have started anything…”

“But-but I want you!” you protested.

Now he looked at you. He looked at you like you were crazy.

“Did you not see that? What I just did?”

“You saved me.”

A breath.

“But… all the rest? I-I made that tree fall too-”

“The wind made it fall-“

“Y/N,” he stopped you, “your mum is right. I can be dangerous, okay? This storm, that’s me.”

Studying your face carefully, he waited for your reaction.

“Why?”

“It’s always been like this,” he sighed, “I’m… I have storm magic. Winter magic. My family, we’re- I’m… Jack Frost.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“No, but I mean, why the storm? Is something wrong?”

A breathy laugh burst from his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Of course there is! I can’t have you.”

“You don’t have to be scared,” you insisted.

“Don’t you understand? You’re the one who should be scared!” he cried, throwing his arms out.

“No,” you shushed him, stepping forward and slowly reaching out, “you’re scared – of hurting me. You don’t have to be.”

Settling, he watched your hand reach through the air. But as it hovered by his cheek, he pulled away.

“Don’t…”

“Yoongi, I want you.”

“And I want you. But you can’t touch me. I’ll just be cold…”

“Don’t worry,” you smiled.

But as you moved again, his hand came up to grasp your wrist, stopping you.

Then his eye widened, realising what he’d done. But you hadn’t flinched away. Looking at your hands held together, his mouth formed ghosts of words he never spoke, not knowing what to say.

“See?” you encouraged, “it’s not cold.”

Wonder-filled eyes rose, meeting your own. Closing the distance between you, he dropped your wrist and lifted both his hands to cup your face instead, touching you softly as if you were made from porcelain.

A breath escaped his lungs, mouth curving into a gummy smile.

Elated, a smile tugged at your own lips.

Then he surged forwards, lips pressing against yours like a starved man. Moving his mouth hungrily over yours, he held your face firmly between his hands as you eagerly kissed him back. Suddenly his hands were unable to get enough, sliding down to your waist and roaming across your back as he pulled you closer.

Equally enthusiastic, you tugged at his shirt, lips keeping up their mind-blowing rhythm until you were both left panting, foreheads pressed together as your breaths turned to laughter between you.

“Screw what this town thinks,” you grinned, “I’m not letting you go after that.”

“Good,” he growled, smirk adorning his face as he darted in for another lingering kiss.

The trees you stood among had watched you both grow, watched you hurt, and now they finally saw you come together, painted by the setting sun in a clear sky.

Thank you for reading!! Reblog this if you enjoyed, it helps me get exposure unlike likes💜

@aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​

Message me if you want to be tagged in new work!

Check out my masterlist here

[donkey-hyuck]

word count- 2,710

genre- the nightmare before christmas! au (if that makes sense) || fluff || suggestive || mayb angst

characters/pairing- jack skellington! jaehyun x sally! reader || nct

warnings- suggestive scenes || does not really follow the storyline of tnbc tbh || lowercase intended || dialogue heavy!! || lmao i used festival so much || obvs if you’re v religious and don’t celebrate halloween, don’t read it pls and ty although this is purely fictional

a/n- lmao just watched the nightmare before christmas on disney+ and it gave me some inspo ;) also i love tim burton films :)) the divider is by @/firefly-graphics i’m just a pussy lmao

jaehyun was the official representative of halloween. well, halloween in your town, specifically. although he is known throughout the globe, he celebrates the special occasion in his hometown. but during the past few years, jung jaehyun had gotten bored. bored with the ongoing festivities and the same traditions. yet he didn’t want to disappoint his people, whether he knew them or not, the citizens of all ages looked up to the halloween king.

“hurry, hurry! jung jaehyun is on his way! i repeat, the halloween king is on his way!” shouted the mayor, while all the villagers were frantic to make everything perfect for this year's halloween festival.

“hurry, hurry! jung jaehyun is on his way! i repeat, the halloween king is on his way!” shouted the mayor, while all the villagers were frantic to make everything perfect for this year's halloween festival.

and as soon as the gates opened, everyone was rushing and screaming, finally being able to see jung jaehyun himself. the crowd cheered as he waved and greeted the people he oh so loved. but he was getting tired of the same old thing. for every halloween since he’d been born, the man was always left alone. the fellow women and men fawned over him, he was drop dead gorgeous, no doubt. but he wanted something more, something passionate, someone who he could love and trust, not just a one night fling.

so while everyone was cheering, you had been sitting on the farest point of the street. your creator, lee donghyuck, had no intention of seeing the man himself. although donghyuck loved jung jaehyun, he wanted to be back home, well rested and well fed. only you wanted to see jaehyun up close.

whenever jung jaehyun was invited to the lab, or came to stop by, donghyuck would always keep you locked up, and so you were never able to meet him.

“but i want to go see…. mark. he’s up with the crowd,” you begged your creator. he only held your arm back and refused to let you walk up the street without his consent. and after fighting back, you unstitched your arm to let go of the pressure and quickly ran to the closest thing you could hide behind, in hopes of getting away from donghyuck, and in chances of seeing jung jaehyun.

you had a slight feverish crush on the man, but who didn’t? even so, almost the entirety of your town loved jaehyun in one way or another. so you were pretty much hopeless. a hopeless romantic, as some would say.

hearing the shouting of donghyuck approach you, straight away, you headed toward the cemetery. a safe place, somewhere you were able to hide, to get away from your life as a creation.

while running to the farthest point of the cemetery, jaehyun had been cornered by the women of all ages.

“jaehyun, i can give you what you want. what you need,” said a young woman.

“oh don’t mind her. i can set you up with my granddaughter, a very beautiful and successful entrepreneur,” bribed an older woman.

“forget them! jung jaehyun, i will devote my entire life to you. for us to be together forever,” begged another.

he looked astonishing that night he came back. with his hair nicely styled, and his all black outfit bringing out his physique and tattooed self. no wonder why all the women were all up in him. but he was a family man, and the children had also been disturbing him as well.

“jaehyun! look what i did for the festival tomorrow.”

“look at what i can do! i’ll be as strong as the halloween king one day.”

“look at my sister jaehyun! isn’t she pretty?”

he loved the attention, but sometimes he wished they would leave him be. he had a life. a really hectic and busy life.

“we’re doing the first bunch of raffles today! get ready to collect them!” announced the mayor over his speaker, making everyone turn their heads and jaehyun to run the opposite direction, towards the cemetery.

you and he shared the same safe place. it was quiet and there was barely anyone around, so it was a good place to take a breather and relax.

planning to eventually go back to the lab, you picked some gardenias to put in donghyuck’s soup for later. hearing the district voice calling for his dog, you hid behind a tombstone and listened to the halloween king.

“zero! come here,” he patted his upper thigh. the spirit of his dog then arose from the ground and barked as jaehyun smiled and picked up a branch from the ground. he then started to say aloud, “oh, zero… i love this community very much. everyone is so welcoming and friendly, especially during the halloween season. but i just feel so suffocated. it’s the same event every year for the past four years. i want something new. i need someone new.”

you felt connected to him, in a way. the two of you were broken souls, ready to find anew; yet it never came. and it felt like it would never come. you were attentive of his wants because you were on the same boat, sort of.

as much as you loved lee donghyuck, he was very strict and it was too throttling in the lab which made you venture to the cemetery and gather gardenias to help him doze off faster.

peering through the corner of the large tombstone, you saw him standing on the edge of the cliff, playing with zero and talking to himself. while he was paying no attention whatsoever, you quietly exited the cemetery and walked the way to donghyuck’s lab.

you sauntered through the front door and walked directly to the kitchen to crush the gardenias before he was to ask for his soup.

“oh y/n!” he said in a singsongy voice, he entered the kitchen to see you stirring up a boiling pot of frogs breath soup, his favorite, with a gardenia touch.

“i’m almost done, master haechan. it’ll be up in a minute!” you spoke over your shoulder before mixing in the dash of gardenia powder into his bowl. he willingly smiled and walked back up into his research laboratory.

after the finishing touches and a sprinkle more of the gardenia powder, you brought the soup up to his room and let him gobble down the soup with a blink of an eye before going to your room— or what you called prison— to pack a basket of goodies to give to jaehyun, anonymously. but first, you sewed your arm back on.

in the basket, contained a bottle of red wine, a block of cheese, and some baked bread from the bakery down the road. as well as a not that read, ‘i know how you feel, and i’m on the same boat as you. i wish there was a way for us to escape.’

popping your head through the research lab door, you confirmed that donghyuck was knocked out cold, and should be for the next two hours.

silently, you sneakily passed through the townspeople and made it to jaehyun one hell of a house. it was on the other side of town, so by the time you reached his home, it was already evening. lee donghyuck must’ve woken up, for sure.

after you entered the gate, regret instantly filled your body. but you traveled all this way, so there was no point in stopping now. carefully, you placed the wooden basket on the doorstep and rang the door, hiding behind the wall.

jaehyun opened the door, ready to greet whoever was visiting him at that time, only to be met with no one but the basket filled with delicacies and a note. picking up the basket, he read the note, and a small smile appeared on his face before walking back into his house and closing the door.

you had been holding your breath the moment you hid behind the wall. and when the coast was clear, you breathed out the breath you had been holding, only for you to suck it back in when zero was sitting by your feet, looking up at you with his face turned. then, he barked.

“no, no, no! shhh. i don’t want him to know i’m here. please be quiet,” you pleaded while whispering. yet to no avail, as the door is opened once more because he heard his beloved dog.

“zero! zero where are you? i heard you barking, let’s go inside!” he walked around his property and finally checked the place where you were previously hiding.

“there you are. let’s get you some rest.” but zero looked to where you hid next, behind a boulder statue.

“come on, let’s go,” he patted his leg, and this time zero obliged.

“whew,” you huffed out while slowly getting up from your hiding place to walk back to the lab.

but as you were cautiously walking out of his property, jung jaehyun saw you exit his gate through his peripheral vision, he then looked to the basket he placed on his desk. and in that moment, he had to know who you were.

the next day during the halloween festival, you’d been punished for putting gardenias in his soup as well as sneaking out. donghyuck locked you up in your room and the only thing you could do was look out the window to see the villagers enjoy their time.

jaehyun had woken up early that morning, to get ready to find his secret admirer he hoped was going to be at the festival. he dressed as nicely as he could, making sure to gel back his hair and wear a nice suit for the occasion. he then stuck the note you gave him inside the pocket of his blazer. and he knew what he was getting himself into. if he were to ask anyone who knew about the note, they would lie and say they did. but it was worth a shot.

he vividly remembered your pin straight hair, reaching down your back, as well as those tiny black heels that were about two inches high. but that was all he did remember and he was unfortunate enough to not be able to see your face.

so, jaehyun just observed.

when he reached the main part of the festival, crowds of townspeople filled the street, excited for the day to come. and when people started to notice the halloween king was there, they gathered around him and showed him everything there was possible. however, jaehyun knew it was just all the same activities and booths. everything that just tired him out. they needed something new, something fresh.

“jaehyun! you’re here early,” said the mayor, but the man was not paying attention, rather he was maneuvering his head around, trying to spot ‘the one.’ noticing this, taeyong bumped him on his shoulder, now worried.

“... is everything alright?” asked the mr. lee in an anxious voice. to which jaehyun just smiled reassuring the mayor.

“everything is perfectly fine, mr. lee! but to keep this between you and me…” he paused for a moment, looking around and taeyong leaned closer to jaehyun. “.... i’m sorta looking for someone. she gave me this note yesterday and as well as a bag of goodies.” but the mayor was surprised by his statement, and he screamed louder than he should’ve.

“woah, woah! the halloween king has a crush on someone? you have a secret admirer!” he tried to hush him but it was too late, the people had already heard.

questions started to arise and the people started to gather around jaehyun again. asking when, where, and more commonly, who. he refused to answer the uprising interrogations and ran the farthest he could.

he ended up hiding in the bushes of lee donghyuck’s lab. when he was sure there was no one who had been following that far, he stood up from the bush and dusted himself off. it seemed like he got ready for purely nothing.

the man paced back and forth, rereading the note you had given him and throwing small stones to the wall of the lab. hearing all the commotion, you gazed out the window to see jung jaehyun, reciting the note over and over again. you listened for a bit, until you remembered the throwing stones part.

“..... you know… master haechan will be upset if he finds you chucking rocks at his lab,” you spoke up as he chuckled at the sentence. he looked up to where the voice was to be already met with your chin resting on your crossed arms, looking down to him.

“calm down, it’s only stones. besides, the professor loves me,” he bragged. “what are you doing up there anyways? shouldn’t you be at the festival?” he asked with his brows furrowed.

“yeah, but i disobeyed the master yesterday. got stuck locked up.” you didn’t know you had the confidence to have a regular conversation with the man you’ve always admired. jaehyun only smiled and replied, “how about i save you then, princess?” your pulse was racing, and you didn’t know how to feel. after a few moments of silence, you looked back down.

“master haechan is at the festival. probably with the mayor or his great uncle taeil. if you ask, he’ll probably give you the master key.” jaehyun nodded and ran back to the scene of the festival to find the professor to bail you out.

when he came back, he immediately opened the front door and walked up the stairs to try and find you. but when he was gone to look for donghyuck, you’d been pacing around your room, anxious. why did you tell him? you thought to yourself over and over. but every one of your thoughts came to a stop when the jiggling of the key became clear. you were really doing this.

somehow, you were more afraid of getting caught that day than the previous. if donghyuck knew jaehyun came to get you out, you’d be in much bigger trouble.

he was finally able to hear the click and opened the door. a full smile plastered on his face, showcasing the dimples people fawned over. shyly, you smiled back and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear catching me do the debby ryan HAHAHA.

jaehyun held out his hand and instantaneously he knew, you were the one. without any further conversation, he dragged you to the place he loved; the cemetery.

while talking about no specific topic, he brought up the shenanigan you pulled yesterday, although he was grateful you did.

“so, were you the one that stopped by last night? and gave me the basket…” he ceased his walking, “who gave me this note?” he pulled the note from inside his blazer. if you thought your anxiety was bad when he was bailing you out, it did not compare to the amount of anxiety you were feeling in that moment.

“...uh… yes i did... did you not like it?,” you stuttered, getting jittery. he only cooed in adoration as he cupped your cheek. “don’t worry, my love. you’re the first one to ever give me a gift that thoughtful. even gave me my favorite red wine.” his response made you sigh out of relief as he just smiled softly and rubbed his thumb against your cheekbone. it was an intimate moment. but slowly, jaehyun found himself leaning closer and closer to you.

grazing his lips against yours he whispered, “thank you,” and pushed himself closer to your lips, catching the gasp that escaped your lips. you were left shocked, with your eyes wide opened and your figure stood there awkwardly, not kissing back. but the man grabbed you by your waist, gently, and his other hand rested on your jawline as you responded back.

it was a slow, yet needy kiss. desperate to have each other but savoring the moment. his tongue met your bottom lip as he turned his head to kiss you deeper, his nose now tickling your right cheek. he then stopped and removed his lips with a pop.

“i think i found my escape this halloween,” he was breathless.

“i think i did too.”

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Ignorance is Blitzed (Part Three)

Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initially thought.

Warnings: war-typical violence, a (literally) dashing nightmare magpie prince, potty words, angst maybe?, a few ocs but don’t get too attached bbs, a very sad attempt at witty dialogue ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If you weren’t convinced that Dike was moments from getting himself, you,  and the rest of Easy killed, you would’ve sworn that you were going to kill him yourself.

At least if you shot him, it meant that someone who actually knew what they were doing could take his place, and that meant that something like this would never happen again.

There may not be an Easy Company left to save, in a few seconds….

You, Christenson, and a few replacements had found cover behind the shell of a truck, a few yards up the field from the hay bale you knew Dike to be hiding behind. 

“What in the fuck is happening over there?” Christenson shouted, the replacements trying their best to hold cover while the two of you desperately tried to figure out a way to get somewhere more tactical to alleviate the fire currently being hailed upon all of you like some biblical plague.

“Dike’s being a pussy!” one of the replacements replied before a bullet dinged him in the helmet and he cursed pitchily. “Why isn’t anyone doing anything—?”

You could hear shouting from the hay bale, so you knew your friends over there were still alive and trying to do something.

If we stay here, we’ll die before we can even try to do something helpful.

“What’s CP doing?” you shout to the replacement on your left, grabbing his vest and pulling him down out of the line of fire. “Use you binoculars—!”

With (understandably) fumbling  hands, the young man brings the apparatus to his face and scans the tree line, cursing aloud each moment that passes and he can’t see them.

Anxious energy has you so keyed up your body is trembling, but you know that if you rush him it’ll just stress him out and make it worse.

“Good job,” you say, even though both you and he know that he hasn’t really accomplished anything yet. “I’ve got you covered, just let me know whenever—”

“Got em.”

Both you and Chistenson share a look of minute relief. So far, this was the first thing about this godforsaken day that had gone right.

At least the lot of you hadn’t been left to die.

“What do you see, Nelson?” the other replacement, Grante with an ‘E’, called as he reloaded his gun. “Does it look like they’re on the radio—?”

“Winters is coming—no, wait!”

You spot a runner for the Germans from your peripheral, and without hesitation you take aim and subdue them. 

Six months ago I would’ve shot to wound….what would my family say if they saw me now?

They’d have to talk to you first, and you weren’t sure if that would ever happen again.

“Oh, shit…..it’s your boyfriend—”

“What?!”  

You squint stupidly in the direction of the trees, seeing nothing but suddenly terrified at the prospect of having to watch Nix or Bull or Grant (or whoever else these dicks you worked with decided you were sleeping with) get killed in their stupid attempt at bravery.

Unless he means….

You watch someone burst through the smoke of a target-missing mortar blast, charging like some avenging God of War towards the hay bale shrouding Dike, Lip, Luz, and however many more of your friends were trapped behind before disappearing.

Ron Speirs, you goddamned psychopath.

“Fuck.” you bit out, turning to Christenson and getting his attention. “Any sign of I Company?”

The four of you initially had been part of a bigger group, and your aim had been to hook up along the outer fringes with some of I Company and create a perimeter from which the Nazi soldiers would be unable to escape or send for reinforcements. 

Christenson nodded. “They look like they’re waiting on us—”

“Yeah, well tell ‘em to get in line!” Grante barked unhelpfully, his voice cracking and reminding you just how young he was. “We’re waiting on us, too!”

You hear a shout of your last name, and when you look back to the hay bale you see that Ron and Lipton are waving to get your attention.

When you meet Ron’s eyes you see the fire of battle raging inside of him, and you can’t help but feel relief that Dike was no longer in charge of your fate.

Using hand signals that had been drilled into your head ever since Georgia you tell him and Lip that five of your party are down, but you have eyes on I Company and just need the okay to hook up with them.

You watched as the two men spoke to eachother, and when they turned away from you you imagined they were relaying what you’d said to Luz so he could let Sink know your intentions.

After a few moments, Speirs tells you with quick and precise motions that you are good to go— he has cover fire arranged for your group so you can dash the final 200 yards into the building you knew housed I Company.

You shoot him a thumbs up before turning to Christenson and nodding excitedly.

“Ready, kids?” you ask, and when they voice their readiness you make a dash for it, leaving the shell of protection the car provided behind and running as quickly as you could towards the bombed out farmhouse, the sound of heavy breathing letting you know that at least Christenson was right behind you.

You don’t look back, can’t look back- all that mattered right now was forward and careful and shouting “flash FLASH FLASH!”

The call of THUNDER preceded you and Christenson all but throwing yourselves through the doorway and into the arms of the five I Company men you’d arranged to meet.

“Fuck, where’ve you been?!” one of them is shouting in your face, and you glare at them qyuickly before looking to where a blood-speckled Nelson is gasping for breath in the doorway. Grante was nowhere to be seen, and one look from Nelson told you that the younger man hadn’t made it.

“The salon, getting my hair permed.” you deadpan to the rifleman, finding the CO and shaking his hand.

“Where do you want us?”

He nods and waves Christenson and Nelson over. “Just this way, ma’am….”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Ho-ly shit.”

You look up at the I Company CO (Parker, you remember quickly)  parts of a jammed machine gun between your legs as you desperately attempt to fix Nelson’s weapon.

“What?” you ask, fingers moving faster than your mind can keep up with as you quickly dislodge the shrapnel from the chamber of the gun and begin putting the thing back together on reflex.

You had been holding the line for the past hour, and for that hour the same question had been on everyone’s mind. “Tanks? Did we miss a runner—?”

Where the fuck is the rest of Easy? They should’ve been here by now to check in….

When the gun is reassembled, you shove it into the replacement’s hand and move to see what has Parker so excited, hoping beyond hope that you’d see the faces of your friends rushing to meet you.

To your horror, you only saw one face, and it happened to be the face of the man who made a point to be the one who woke you up each morning with a full canteen and the promise of breakfast.

Of course it’s going to be someone important to me, my…..whatever it is he is to me.

 “Where’s everybody?” Christenson shouted, an unfazed Ron breezing past him to quickly grab the ammo and sling it over his shoulder.

Ron goes straight to the CO and starts talking to him in harsh tones under his breath, yet his eyes still search the room until they find yours.

He’s okay, he’s safe and he’s here now. It’s okay.

You give him a nod before moving on to the next jammed weapon that had been shoved into your hands wordlessly by Christenson after he takes one of the German ones from a body next to him.

Fucking Dike. He’d have us fighting with slingshots and pebbles if it meant he got to stay warm at the CP. Half of us didn’t even have weapons until Bill and Babe started repossessing the Army’s shit. If we survive this, I’m going to kill Dike, I swear to God….

You fix the gun, glad it was only a minor fix that was needed this time. When you look back to Ron, he’s tightening his helmet on his head and looking back the way he had just come.

Goddamnit. Of course he’s running back into danger. He’s Ron fucking Speirs.

You shake yourself from your stupor and quickly rush over to him as he picks up the last of his things and prepares to go.

When he looks up at you, you shove the rifle you’d taken off the corpse of a German you’d come across on your last scouting mission into his hands and take his standard issued one away.

“Take this one,” you say breathlessly, as if you were the one who had been running. “It holds more rounds and shoots cleaner.”

He nods, eyes wild with adrenaline as he scans you over for any sign of injury.

“You good?” he asks, and you nod and try to shrug casually.

It’s hard, you are also nearly vibrating with adrenaline and nervous energy.

“I’d ask you the same, but clearly you’ve got a death wish, so—”

Before you can finish chastising him, his rough hands come up to grip your face and he smashes his lips to yours in a rough kiss that’s nearly bruising in its force.

Oh...OH. Oh shit!

You inhale sharply through your nose, head tilting back as he steps into you and puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezed.

You gape at him stupidly when he pulls back and feel the blood rushing to your cheeks in surprise at his boldness.

You hadn’t been kissed since long before Georgia, hadn’t wanted to be kissed or coddled or shown too much affection because in your relatively short life, you’d come to know unreserved compassion as a weakness. 

“Love is nice but it isn’t reliable. Life isn’t a fairytale, sweetheart— everything has a price.

Nothing can hurt you if you don’t let it matter in the first place….”

Well, Mom— I’m doing my best, but I just don’t know if you’re right about this one, not this time….

Ron smirks down at you with such a self-satisfied look you smack him lightly on the chest on reflex rather than due to any actual upset.

“Yell at me later.” he offers when you open your mouth to speak, and with one more quick, breath-stealing kiss he’s gone again, running into enemy fire far too casually for your liking.

When you turn to watch him go you catch Christenson staring at you, a similar expression of shock on his face.

Ok, so I didn’t dream that, that actually happened.

You have to literally shake your head in order to get through the surprise, and when you do a weird pit of anger forms in your stomach.

That fucker better live, because he can’t just do that and run off.

You square your shoulders and grab the newly repaired gun at your feet, going to the hole in the wall and shooting at anything that looks as if it may mean Ron Speirs any harm.

He rolls over a stone fence, and you can’t help but shake your head.

He’s fucking with my plans, that son of a bitch. 

“So, uh….that was—”

“Shut up, Christenson. Just…. shut up.”

You hear the hitch of a chuckle from his direction. 

“Bull will be happy—”

“Shut. The fuck. Up! Keep shooting, you damn fucking child….!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ask him how far away their backup is.”

You nod to Dick, dutifully repeating the question to the bruised and bloodied german soldier who sat before a group of you after his comrade had identified him as his superior officer.

You listen to the mumbled reply and nod. “About three hours by foot, an hour if you cut through fields.”

“Ask him for a number. How many miles? How many villages?”

You press him for specifics, but he just spits bloodily at Dick’s feet before calling him something you couldn’t fully translate (but assumed was insulting).

“I’ll take it that’s a no on getting specifics.” Nix smirked, stepping to the soldier and grabbing him bodily by the arm. “I think battalion’s gonna love you—”

You squeeze your eyes shut as Lewis leads the captured man to a truck where the others are waiting to be transported back to wherever they’d set up HQ, pinching at the pressure point at the top of the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to ease some of the pain of your stress headache.

“Headache?” Winters asks, and you instantly lower your hand and straighten up.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” 

He chuckles at that, giving you a knowing look. “I think you and I both know you could lose a limb and still insist that you’re fit for duty.”

You scoff a laugh. “I suppose it would depend on which limb…. and what duty, Sir.”

He looks at you with all the exhaustion of a first time father, and you laugh in earnest.

“Go see someone if it gets too bad.”

“Sir.” you nod.

You smile as you watch him walk away, catching up with Nixon and falling into step with the man easily.

How I got accused of screwing Nixon and Winters hasn’t, I’ll never understand….

Turning to look back at the war-torn downtown, you catch Grant’s eye and he waves you over.

By the time you get to him, you find that he isn’t alone.

Leaning against the wall beside your friend is Ron Speirs, looking far too at ease for someone who you had spotted running through enemy tanks not an hour before.

“Heard you had an exciting day!”

You freeze, eyes widening as you feel yourself blushing again. 

Shit. SHIT!

“Oh, I….um—”

“I was telling him about the car you hid behind,” Ron supplied mercifully, and you feel relief so instantly that you have to brace a hand against the side of the building in order to catch yourself.

“Oh, yes! That exciting part of my day.”

Chuck looks at you strangely for a moment, bringing a hand to your forehead and holding it there.

You roll your eyes and push his hand away, smacking at it again when he tries to repeat the action. “Charles—”

“Grant, Tab!” 

The three of you turn towards the direction of Malarkey’s voice, the man jerking his thumb back to one of the trucks.

“Got some stuff for you that just got here…”

Giving you one last look, he points his finger in your face like he’s scolding a child.

“This interrogation isn’t over, young lady—”

“Don’t you mean conversation?” Ron asks, smoke from his cigarette floating around his face like fog over a lake.

You nod your head in Ron’s direction in a sign of agreement, and Chuck moves his arm so he’s now pointing at Ron.

“Y/n and I are far past social pleasantries, and I would never insult her by lying...”

You roll your eyes and gesture in the direction Grant had been called from.

“Don’t keep Mother waiting, you know how she gets.”

You watch Grant jog over and away from sight. Ron’s fingers deftly pull your braid out from beneath your collar and smooths it down, following the length of your spine in such a way that no one else would’ve been able to see should they look over suspiciously.

“If you didn’t look like you’d just committed a crime,” he says matter-of-factly. “He probably would’ve just given you a pat on the back and moved on.”

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, the closeness of his face reminding you of how he’d held you when you thought you were dying all those months ago.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, suddenly feeling very shy around him.

He hums, lips quirking up in a quick smile. “Well, my ‘suicidal death wish’ didn’t pan out as well as I’d hoped, so I’ll live—”

Something in your face made him stop, and with gentle hands he takes your shoulders and turns you to face him completely. You let him walk the two of you back behind the building a bit before stepping in to you again.

Like he had before, in the farmhouse after he kissed me….

You flush at the memory, and you may as well have said what was on your mind because he whispers your name in the way he does when he knows you’re overthinking things(or at least starting to).

Meeting his softened gaze, bite the inside of your cheek before speaking.

“I’m mad at you.” you say, hating the lack of conviction in your voice.

He nods, expression one of consideration as his hands come up to hold your face.

“I know.”

“Because what you did was really stupid—”

“I know—”

“And then you pull a move like that, hey” you cut yourself off when he smirks again, a chuckle in his throat when you glare at him. “Don’t you dare look so damn proud of yourself, I’m yelling at you—”

“Which move would you be referring to?” he goads, and you frown in order to hide the grin that threatens to break across your face. You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back against the side of the building.

“Oh my God.” you scoff out. “Are you teasing me right now? Ronald Speirs, you’re unbelievable”

He smiles down at you, and you let yourself smile back at him and nervously bring one of your hands up to cover his as it slides down to cup the side of your neck. 

Your smile slips as your eyes unintentionally flicker down to his lips again, remembering how they felt against your own.

Shooting a quick look to either side, you slowly raise onto your toes and give him a quick, shy peck. You can feel him grin for a split second before he kisses you deeply and far more thoroughly than you’ve ever been kissed before.

You sigh into the kiss, eyes drifting closed as you wrap your arms around his torso and fist the material of his jacket in your hands.

When you break for air you rest your cheek against his shoulder, hugging him tightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” you mumble, and for a moment you think he may not have caught what you said.

“If you think I’m going to let something as stupid as a bullet or a mortar stop me from coming back to you,” His lips are at your temple, and when you pull back to look at him follows you and gives you another smug grin. “you’ve got another thing coming.”

As you open your mouth to reply, the both of you hear Nixon calling your name, loudly asking people if they’ve seen you and which way you’d gone.

You both sigh, and smile at each other at the unintentional synchronization of the action.

“I think your boyfriend is looking for you.” He pulls playfully on your braid when you roll your eyes at him and gently push him away.

“I think I liked you better when you were just quiet and broody and handsome—”

Ron smiles wickedly at that, and you groan when you realized what you’d just said.

“Don’t let it get to your head-”

“Too late.” 

Ducking another quick kiss to your lips, he steps back just in time as Nixon rounds the corner, his words forgone in favor of eyeing the two of you suspiciously.

“What were you—”

“What’s up Lew?” you interrupt, trying your best to not look...what had Ron compared it to? 

Looking like you’d committed a crime….

Giving Ron a scrutinizing once over, Nix looked back to you and raised a brow.

“Dick’s wondering if you can show him how to switch one of the Kraut scopes to a rifle…”

“Sure!” you said, far too brightly. You had a feeling if you looked back at Ron he’d be smirking in unabashed amusement at your awkwardness. “Lead the way…”

With a frown and a suspicious hmph, Nix turned and began to walk in the direction from which he’d come.

You follow dutifully, giving Ron a quick smile over your shoulder as you hurried to catch up with Lewis.

Ron looked beyond pleased with himself, shooting you a quick wink before bringing another cigarette to his lips and lighting it.

“Care to explain that?” Nix asks under his breath once you catch up to him, taking your arm in his like the two of you were at some cotillion.

You smirk to yourself, rolling your lips together to hide the action.

“Nothing to explain, Nixy. Everything’s perfect….”

And for the first time in your life, you truly meant it.

OOF HERE WE ARE AGAIN! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR READING THE RAMBLINGS I THROW IN YOUR DIRECTION AND SORRY IF IT SUCKS

TAGLIST: @itswormtrain, @mrseasycompany​, @softspeirs​

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Lost Part 4

Harry Potter Marauders Era 

Link to Part 3 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- angst 

The song at the beginning: "Red Eyes" by The War on Drugs The song in the middle of the chapter: "By My Side" by The Paper Kites

_____

Come and see Where I witness everything On my knees Beat it down to get to my soul Against my will Anyone can tell it's you coming Baby don't mind Leave it on the line, leave it hanging on the rail Come and ride away It's easier to stick to the old Surrounded by the night Surrounded by the night and you don't give in But you abuse my faith Lose it every time, but I don't know where You're on my side again So ride the heat wherever it goes I'll be the one to care You're all I've got, wait Don't wanna let the dark night cover my soul Well, you can see it through the darkness coming my way Well, we won't get lost inside it all again

Running…

You didn’t know where you were going but you were going somewhere...anywhere. All that you could think about was getting as far away from your lover as possible! You hated the thought but your brain was in flight mode.

As you ran, you ignored the strange looks that fellow students were giving you. Evan Rosier and Snape sat a few feet away. Both look at each other before standing up and heading toward you. You made a quick left-hand turn shouting “nope” over your shoulder and continuing your mad dash down a new hallway. They were the last people that you wanted to talk to. Knowing the luck that you were having today, the boys would take you right back to Regulus. If you ended up dead or kidnapped, you wouldn’t be surprised.

It was Remus that saw you next. He quickly elbowed Sirius in the ribs to get his own lover’s attention. Both looked at each other and shrugged before getting up and going after you. It took them almost chasing you to the forest before catching up.

“Hey! Where are we running to?”

Sirius asked, trying to catch his breath as you stopped right in the clearing of the forest. You turned and looked at them with tear-filled eyes. Both Remus and Sirius frowned at your disheveled appearance. Your normally neat dress shirt was clearly hastily buttoned and untucked from your skirt. Sirius didn’t want to admit it but he could clearly see your breasts through your shit. He quickly looked down blushing. The last thing that he wanted to admit was that he had seen you like this.

“Anywhere! I just need to get somewhere.”

You said in a pleading tone. Remus reached out and gently wrapped his hand through yours.

“Come on. Let's go into the forest.”

You didn’t fight as Remus and Sirius led you through the thick trees to a place that you knew well. It was the place that you came to your friends with when all of you needed to “getaway.”

Remus was the one to break the silence. He was more than worried. You weren’t the person to be running through the halls looking scared out of your mind.

“So are you going to tell us why you are on the verge of a breakdown?

Sirius nodded.

“Where’s your bra?”

Remus turned to Sirius with an annoyed expression.

“That’s what’s worrying you right now?”

You looked down taking in your appearance with a groan.

“Oh no! I left my bra and underwear.”

“Where were you to forget your bra and underwear...oh no...Y/n!”

Remus commented as he put two and two together...Regulus. He ran a hand through his hair wondering if he needed to go track down the younger Black brother and mop the floor with his face. It was super closer to the full moon so Remus wasn’t feeling too shy at the moment. Seeing the horror on your face made him angrier. Just what had Regulus done to you?

“It's not what you think, Remus...well it kind of is.”

Sirius, who was totally confused, held a hand up.

“I would really like to not be a third wheel in this conversation. I’m feeling a little forgotten here.”

Remus’ eyes met yours asking for permission to clue Sirius in before the boy had a full-fledged meltdown of his own.

“Regulus.”

Sirius frowned.

“What does my brother...OH FUCK!”

He shouted the last part before putting his hand over his mouth and jumping up and down.

“Did he hurt you? I’m going to kick his skinny little…”

You quickly started waving your arms trying to shut your friend up. Sirius stopped his freaking out and looked at you with petrified eyes.

“No, Sirius! He didn’t hurt me...at least not yet. I’m in serious shit! He’s in serious shit!”

“What is it?”

Sirius carefully asked. You felt the tears returning to your eyes. The realization that you were about to pull the rug out from under Sirius was devastating you all the more. Your poor friend didn't deserve any of the horrible things that he had gone through in his life and now you were about to add another one. Sirius had told you himself that he prayed Regulus would turn out good. It was so obvious that Sirius loved his younger brother despite Regulus’ abandonment of Sirius.

“Sirius, I am so sorry...Regulus is a death eater.”

The frown on Sirius’ face deepened.

“How do you know for sure?”

You put a hand over your face before sealing the distance between Sirius and yourself. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you buried your face in his chest.

“I saw the dark mark on his arm. He and I were about to have sex...when he took his shirt off.”

You wanted to cry even more hearing Sirius’ heart beginning to pound. He trembled underneath your touch for a moment before wrapping his own arms around you.

“I saw the dark mark and got the hell out of there.”

You added. Sirius sighed. This was definitely not the news that he expected to hear. Something that told Sirius to expect it. Hell, he made comments about Regulus probably being a death eater all of the time but having the confirmation was totally different.

“How long have you been having sex with him?”

Sirius gently asked as he took your face in his hands. He wiped your tear-streaked face with his robe trying to provide some comfort that his brother obviously couldn't.

“A long time...we stopped when he called me a mudblood. It was the same time that we stopped being friends. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. Regulus didn’t want me to tell anyone but Remus caught us once. That is how he found out. Don’t give him a hard time, please Sirius.”

Sirius sighed and gently kissed your forehead.

“I am not going to give anyone a hard time. You had your reasons. I get that but I’m concerned especially with what you just told me about Regulus. Y/n, I can tell you that he hasn’t been the same in a very long time...I feel like that is common sense.”

You pulled away from Sirius and started pacing before angrily punching a tree. Both Remus and Sirius exchanged glances. Y/n Evans never lost her temper like this and assaulted innocent trees.

“I’m so stupid! STUPID STUPID STUPID! I love him and I am scared to death of him at the same time. I am acting like such a Mary Sue and I hate it. It makes no logical sense. I want to be with someone that will probably kill me at some point to appease some crazed dark wizard. He’s gone and taken that dark mark on his pretty arm and I was going to hop into bed with him as I did at 14. Why the hell do I love him so much?”

Remus patted Sirius’ arm signaling that it was his turn.

“Sweetheart, you can’t help who you love.”

Sirius frowned.

“What are you trying to do, Moony?”

Remus gave him a scowl before pulling you into one of his famous hugs that were saved for sad times. You had a feeling that you would wake up the next morning to a shit ton of “sad time presents” from both boys.

“Just because you love him, however, doesn’t mean that he is good for you. There are a lot of nice boys out there.”

You sobbed harder. Of course, Regulus wasn’t good for you! You had enough sense to know that the relationship was toxic as hell and here you were ready to fuck the boy’s brains out (you still wanted him but you wouldn’t admit that).

“Every boy I get close to is scared to death of Regulus and won’t date me. When one does decide to Regulus has his band of merry misfits beat the stuffing out of them. Look at Gavin McDonald.”

“Regulus did that?”

Sirius questioned. He had seen Gavin earlier that day and long story short the Ravenclaw boy didn’t look good at all.

You nodded.

“Yes, I have a feeling that it was Evan and that Dolohov guy. This is crazy but I thought that I wanted to date Gavin. I thought that I would really like him but this afternoon when kissing Regulus...everything was so perfect. Granted, we were in the middle of hate sex and bad-mouthing each other but, Merlin, it was perfect. His kisses...I could break into a million little pieces for him…”

Sirius winced. He didn’t want to think about Regulus bedding you but the thoughts were going through his mind like crazy now. Sirius knew that you were friends with Sirius. The two of you had the kind of friendship that Lily had with Snape before that went to hell. Sirius didn’t mind it at first either. Regulus looked out for you. If someone gave you grief then they had Regulus to deal with and it wasn’t a great outcome.

As much as Sirius didn’t want to admit it, the two of you would make one hell of an adorable couple. Now, he wasn’t for sure how that would go. If Regulus dated you in the open, it would be dangerous...for both of you. Sirius didn’t see Voldermort being okay with one of his death eaters dating a muggle-born. That would be hypocritical of everything the man stood for. There was also Walburga and Orion...Sirius didn’t even want to think about that one.

“So the two of you have been fucking since you were like 13?”

You nodded.

“It started as wanting to see what all of the hype was about and just kept going. We were friends during the day and lovers at night. When he started hanging out with Evan and those other dark boys things changed and here we are now.”

Sirius sat down on a stump to put his head in his hands.

“I am guessing that Lily and James don't know.”

You nodded., trembling.

“Lily would be livid and James...well...you know him.”

Sirius knew exactly how James Potter would handle this. He would march right down to the Slytherin dungeon and fight Regulus. Sirius knew that this would be a fight that Regulus wouldn't walk away from either. His brother had too many negative feelings for James. It would just end bloody for everyone.

“Please don’t tell them.”

You begged. Sirius and Remus both nodded. Sirius stood up and cleared his throat.

“We won’t. Look, Y/n, I am not telling you what to do but maybe you should stay away from Regulus for the time being...at least until we figure out what kind of death eater he actually is.”

“Fair enough.”

You replied, sadly.

(meanwhile)

I've got a love, I've got a love for you I've got a place in this old heart for you And I want to tell you that I want you Any way I can I want to take you in my arms, I do I'll light a flame and let it burn for you And if I ran then I would run to you Every time By my side The only place By my side It's where I want to be By my side Forevermore I want to talk, I want to talk with you I want to tell you anything, I do And when I go, and when I leave, it's you On my mind I want to vanish in the night with you I want to take you 'round the town, I do I'm gonna make some kind of life for you Any way I can By my side It's where I want to be By my side The only place By my side Forevermore

Regulus sat in the room of the requirement that he had destroyed. Feathers from the mattress and pillows were still falling as he no longer fought the angry tears that were streaming down his face. Once again, he had fucked everything up. Regulus had been half tempted to run after you and plead with you to realize that he would never do anything to hurt you. He would never let any death eater lay a hand on you. Regulus would lie about your blood status to keep you safe. He would paw through people’s minds and put that thought in their minds. You wouldn't be questioned and would be safe…

Now here he sat alone. Alone...it seemed like this was going to be the defining word of his life. When he was home, he felt alone. His parents were too lost in their own world unless it was to order Regulus on how he was going to live his life. At school, sure he had friends, but they were on the same page as his parents with everything.

“I’m a bloody idiot.”

Regulus muttered as his gaze fell down to the dark mark on his arm. What the actual fuck was he thinking signing up for this shit? It was no bloody wonder that you were scared to death of him now. He was running around with the people that were causing people like her to be kidnapped and killed.

“She thinks I’m a monster like the rest of them. I would never hurt her...at least I’m trying not to hurt her.”

Regulus whispered and laid his head back against the now destroyed bed. He was so close to having you again. If he could have just made love to you, he could have proved how loyal he still was to you. You were the only girl that he thought of. If the two of you had to run away to be together that would have been just fine with Regulus. The two of you could lay low until some event changed the war. Regulus had a feeling that Voldermort wouldn’t be around forever. Once that the dark lord was gone, the two of you could live as husband and wife happily.

He wouldn’t have to see that look of fear in your eyes anymore. You could be the happy Hufflepuff girl that Regulus had fallen in love with. Regulus wouldn’t have minded one bit if you spent the rest of forever annoying him with your giddy humor, forced hugs, cuddles...anything that you wanted. It would have been nice for Regulus to be able to let his own guard down and be loved.

“I should have told her the truth…”

Regulus could have told you that the only reason that he joined the death eaters was to appease his parents but the question was would you believe him? Regulus had a feeling that the answer to that question was no. He could only hope that you would believe him when he said that he wasn’t as faithful as Voldemort believed.

“I’ve got to fix this.”

Regulus snapped before standing up and fixing his appearance. Stepping out of the room of requirement, he quickly walked down the hall looking for any sign of you. He frowned, looking through the groups of other students until his eyes landed on Margaret and Lucille who were sitting under a tree giggling amongst themselves.

“I must be desperate.”

Regulus muttered before walking over to where the two girls sat. Both looked up the moment that Regulus stopped.

“Do either of you know where Y/n is?”

Both girl’s mouths dropped at the experience of Regulus Black talking to them. Regulus frowned.

“I don’t have all day. I know that one of you can speak actual words.”

Lucille was the first to make a peep.

“No, I’m sorry, Regulus but we haven’t seen her in some time.”

Regulus sighed before turning to walk off. Margaret quickly came in.

“You can join us.”

Regulus snorted.

“I would rather dig my brain out with a spoon.”

He didn’t wait for either shocked girl to respond before walking away. He stalked through the castle for a few more moments before seeing James and Lily.

“I must be crazy.”

Regulus mumbled before walking up to the one boy that he despised more than anyone else and your older sister. James looked totally stunned to see Regulus Black approaching him. Usually, Regulus gave him snarky little sneers from across whatever room the two happened to be in at the moment.

“Have either of you seen Y/n?”

Both Lily and James’ smiles faded. They knew that you hadn’t been friends with Regulus in a long time and how torn up you were over the friendship ending (even if you didn’t talk about it). James felt “older brother” feelings starting to come out.

“What business do you have with her? I thought that she was just filthy...you know what you said.”

Regulus’ scowl intensified as he thought "and James wonders why I hate him so bad."

“I know what I said and I was wrong. Look, I have nothing to say to you. I need to talk to her so can you tell me where she is?”

James shook his head.

“We haven’t seen her since this morning..”

Lily decided to come into the conversation. She knew that you had something going on with Regulus that was “more than friendship.” It didn’t take Lily being your older sister to see how the two of you used to look at each other. There was also the fact that she caught the two of you kissing one night in the restricted section of the library.

“I want you to leave my sister alone. You have caused her enough distress.”

Regulus’ eyes turned in Lily’s direction.

“What Y/n and I do are our business. You should respect your sister’s decisions on who she chooses as her friends.”

Lily’s green eyes instantly looked livid and reminded Regulus exactly of yours.

“I would treat you with respect if you had any for my sister. All that you think about is yourself. Now get out of here before I hex you!”

Regulus looked totally caught off guard by Lily’s out of character threat. He blinked a few times before turning and storming off.

“I am losing my bloody mind”

Regulus muttered and went in search of some new avenue of finding you...

The next morning...

You sat at the Hufflepuff table absentmindedly stirring your oatmeal. The last thing that you really wanted to do was eat. You weren't even hungry. How you had gotten down to breakfast was still a mystery in itself. Remus and Sirius had escorted you back to the Hufflepuff common room the night before and left you in Lucille’s hands.

Both Lucille and Margaret had told you about Regulus’ less than kind comment from the day before when he was looking at you. You shrugged before muttering “consider your source” and withdrew immediately from the conversation.

Looking up, you met Remus and Sirius’ worried gazes. It didn’t help that now Lily and James were also starring. Judging by the expression on Lily’s face, you knew that she was aware something was up and you would be pulled into a “big sister/little sister chat.” You had no idea what you would tell her was the cause of your sudden depression. If you told her the truth the whole castle would probably hear her yelling. You didn’t have the energy to deal with that at the moment.

You diverted your attention to the Slytherin table where Regulus sat with his eyes dead set focused on you. Evan and Snape were even starring. Merlin, did they know too? This was beginning to get out of control! The last thing that you wanted was to deal with Evan Rosier or Severus Snape trying to “fix” your broken relationship with Regulus. There probably wouldn’t be any fixing on Evan’s end. He would just order you to get over yourself and take Regulus back. Snape would just make some awkward speech that would leave both of you uncomfortable. Either way, you were doomed.

You didn’t see Regulus’ face fall when you quickly looked away from him as if he were no one. Looking down in front of you, you frowned seeing an envelope with your name written in Regulus’ neat writing. How it got there, you weren't sure.

“Not today...I just can’t.”

You muttered before standing up and walking to the door. Stopping at the rubbish bin, you shoved the unopened envelope in. You knew that Regulus saw it and you didn’t care. Getting out of the hall was the thing that you needed the most at the moment!

Regulus, meanwhile, felt his heartbreak as you shoved the well thought out letter, that he spent hours on, in the trash. Evan winced.

“The fuck did you do to her this time?”

Regulus groaned and dramatically slammed his head down on the table. Evan raised an eyebrow before shooting all of the other Slytherins who were watching a death glare.

“Reg, I don’t know what you are doing but this is getting out of hand. You need to talk to her.”

Regulus jumped up and screamed,

“I’M TRYING, EVAN!”

Whether it was Regulus breaking his cool calm composure or something else both Evan, Severus, and Barty winced scooting away.

“I’m out of here.”

Regulus said after taking a few deep breaths. He gathered up his stuff and met Sirius, Remus, James, and Lily’s uncomfortable gazes. Tossing his curly hair back, Regulus walked off without another word.

James was the first to break the uncomfortable silence at the Gryffindor table…

“Look at that, breakfast and a show.”

Regulus quickly walked down to the dungeons for Potions. You were going to talk to him one way or another. He was about to go crazy and didn’t want to face the thoughts of going home for Christmas the next day like this. If he didn’t fix things now, he would have to be an emotional wreck all fucking break and he was not going to do that It was time to get back some control in his life!

Slughorn looked up with a smile as Regulus walked in. He gave him a smile.

“There is my other genius.”

Regulus frowned

“I’m sorry, sir?”

Slughorn motioned to the report on his desk.

“Ms. Evans handed in the report. As I suspected, the two of you had the best grade in the class. Since everyone did so well, I decided to cancel class as a small holiday gift.”

Regulus felt, if possible, even worse. You did all of that stupid project without him and saved his ass.

“Thank you, sir. Did Y/n happen to say where she was going? I needed to give her back a book that she let me borrow.”

Regulus totally lied to Slughorn and at the moment he didn’t care. Slughorn shook his head. The older man clearly hadn’t picked up on Regulus’ tense mood. He either didn’t pick up on it or was too lost in his own world to even notice...Regulus didn’t care which.

“No, she didn’t. Have a nice holiday, Regulus.”

Regulus nodded.

“You too, sir. Thank you.”

Regulus politely replied before turning and running out of the classroom to start the damned biggest version of hide and seek ever seen…

________

@fairywriter-oracle

@amelie-black

@realgaytrash

@swinginsoulbailiffrascal

@velveteencurls

@kitkatkl

@truly-insatiable

@nikki-sixx-is-daddy

@bisou-doux

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@hankypranky

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@summer-novak

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@marichromatic

@maggioli-m

@stuckinsaudi1

@knight-of-gleefulness

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@wontlookaway

@emiwrites3reads

@shaylybaby2032

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@sprnaturallover

@shitfaceddaniel

@mycuddlycorner

@sunles

[hk-plus-you]

I suddenly remembered there’s that one dead husk (leaking void) that’s holding the Love Key when dreamnailed might be referring to the Collector and implying a relationship between them. What if void itself is also infectious? Maybe an angst scenario where Reader suddenly understands THK without having to communicate via sign and is happy about it but doesn’t realize she’s infected with the void and THK is despairing and tries to push her away? Ignore if it doesn’t make sense 🤦‍♀️

I uh... suck at endings so I hope it’s okay.

You had been with them for a while now, sharing a house in Dirtmouth and spending most of your time close with them. Relationships were still new to them, and they were still very much getting used to not having to hide their feelings or thoughts. Oftentimes they were still too afraid to talk about how they felt about something. That was okay though, you were patient with them, always reassuring them if you noticed something was off and took things slowly to give them plenty of time to adjust. They were your sweet darling knight and you’d do nearly anything to make sure they were happy and comfortable. You often reminisce about your old family, giving examples of your parents and siblings to try and explain something. You also learned decently quickly that Hollow's own family was a tricky subject. They were never able to get close to their mother and their relationship with their father was a complicated knot of emotions you wouldn't try to force them to untie all at once for you. Then their siblings were… somewhere else, a place they were incredibly hesitant to talk about. Hollow's signs were always shaky, often stopping and starting suddenly, movement smaller and much softer than usual when they were brought up. You just let the topic go their siblings all together, never really asking about them. When they approached you, asking if you could come while they visited the place of their birth to see their siblings again you knew it would be something messy. You would never have been able to imagine a place like The Abyss. Not in a thousand years in your worst nightmares would you have imagined someone having to be born in a place like this. You knew somewhat of the void, not quite by the right name, but you knew of the dark substance that seemed to only take form to hurt and kill things that weren’t also made of it. It was something that was inside Hollow, something they’d never be able to get rid of. Seeing the Abyss, seeing the piles of masks from what must be hundreds of thousands of children that practically made the walls and floor, having the bug you loved pointing at creatures practically made of shadow that attacked you two and them signing ‘sibling’? You did all you could to not gape at them in horror at what they had to endure. You came back out feeling cold and on the verge of tears. It was weird, you were more upset about it than they were. And with that came guilt. They tried to comfort you as you stood outside the entrance trying not to shake. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? The next few days were practically spent recuperating from the visit. You went about your business as usual with them by your side but you just felt… Heavy and tired all the time. They could easily tell something was off, now doting on you at every turn. Making tea and breakfast in the morning to wake you up, helping clean up after dinner, even leaving little notes to try and brighten your day. “I’m really worried about you.” The thought shattered through your head, startling you out from your previous focus on washing a cup. Didn’t come from you, the voice was distant and quiet, spoken like a whisper that echoed in your mind. You looked around for a moment but nothing was amiss. You were just cleaning up after lunch. You would wash the dishes and Hollow would put them away. At your confusion though, they paused, eyes full of concern as they watched you. “What happened?” that same voice whispered. “Is something wrong?” Hollow signed. “I… I’m not sure. I don't know how to explain…” They leaned close, bumping their head against yours. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken you to the abyss. You’ve been acting odd since then. I shouldn’t ha-” “Is that you?” You jumped back slightly, voice louder and higher pitched than you intended. They tilted their head, “Is what me?” “The-the voice! I can hear someone in my head. It… Do you feel guilty for taking me to see where you were born?” Their eyes were wide in an instant, “Can you hear my thoughts?” “I think so? Who or what else would it be?” They shook their head vigorously at that, stepping backward as they did so, “Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad!” They broke out in a run through the house and out the door. “Wait!” You tried to chase them, following them down out the door and through Dirtmouth. You barely saw the tip of their horns disappearing down the well as you passed the stage station. When you made your way down the chain they were just gone. There was no trail to follow, no way to find them again. You searched for them for several days. Was this so awful? Did you really lose them forever? The house felt empty without them there anymore. It had been the largest house in Dirtmouth, you even worked to modify it and raise the ceiling even higher so their horns wouldn’t graze it. The bed was huge to accommodate them. Each room built for larger bugs that just took up more space. Now the rooms felt empty, most of the furniture so big, something you had found almost adorable in how it made you feel small, now was intimidating and cold. You had to go back to your old house, even then it still felt lonely and miserable. Sly’s prying wasn’t helping, and Elderbug’s attempts to comfort you felt anything but helpful. Worst of all, no matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you couldn’t cry. Not a single little tear, no matter how much you needed that release. You ventured down the well again. Part of you still trying to find them, the other part just wanting to get lost. You made it into the city of tears, the rain cold against your shell. The guards were long gone and dead, many of their bodies impaled against the spikes that were on every roof. Others simply fell over, weapons held in vice grip in cold hands. All of its inhabitants were dead, and with them, so was the city. Well… All of them except for one relic seeker. The little shop was surprisingly warm for being in the city. Each shelf stuffed with trinkets and artifacts you had never seen, thick stacks of papers were piled in boxes behind the counter. What really caught your attention was the large window that made the entire far wall. It had a beautiful view of the city’s heart. There was a statue of Hollow in the center, surrounded by three cloaked figures. In front of it stood Hollow, staring at the stone version of themself. You left the shop immediately, making a mad dash for that statue. The words ‘please don’t leave’ repeated through your head like a mantra. They turned to you before you even reached them. They were soaked through, leaning on their old nail for support. Their head hung low as they watch you approach. “Please-I-Why did you-” Your words jumbled together, thoughts coming out in an impossible to understand slurry. “Please…” They stared at you, signing nothing as you looked up at them. “What did I do? Please just talk to me! What happened?” You looked down, tears finally welling in your eyes. “You’re sick. Sick because of me,” their voice rang in your head again. “What?” “The void. It infects everything it touches. It’s in you now. You shouldn’t be able to hear me. You shouldn’t be able to hear this. It could get worse because of me,” They shifted, their mask coming into view as they kneel before you. “So? Isn’t that a good thing? We don't have to worry about things being lost in translation anymore.” They let out a small huff. “But it’ll get worse. It always starts with hearing the void it gets so much worse.” “How do you know it’ll get worse?” “People in the abyss always got sick. No longer able to resist the call they turned the light off. The void would get stronger and consume their mind.” “But we aren’t in the abyss!” You threw your arms out in frustration. Tears falling fast with the rain. “I only got ‘sick’ when we went there. I’ve been living with you for several years and nothing happened. If I just stay away from there it won’t get worse.” “But what if it does?” They looked away from you, back at the ground. “But what if it doesn’t?” “We don’t know if it won’t. I couldn’t do that to you.” You put your head at the side of their mask, lightly pulling their gaze back, “I’ve been miserable with you gone. Please, don’t leave me alone.” You pressed your head against theirs. Eyes closed as you sobbed, “I’ve missed you so much,” Their nail clattered to the ground as they wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to their chest. “I’ve missed you too.”

[seeaddywrite]

not a place, but a feeling

a/n: written for alex manes appreciation week 2020, day 1. i used the theme ‘home can be a person,’ but took a lot of liberties, whoops? thanks as always to @soberqueerinthewild for catching all of my repetition, wacky tenses, & holding my hand through the last 5k words of this fic, haha.

warnings: starts with forlex, but this is very clearly a malex fic & forrest does not end up particularly happy. angst with a happy ending, as per usual. 8k+ wordcount.

                                                                  ________

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Alex mutters to himself, turning the key in his SUV’s ignition for the third time and hoping for a miracle. The engine wheezes, sputters a few times, and finally settles into a high-pitched whine that sets Alex’s teeth on edge. Apparently, the ‘check engine’ light on his dash that morning had been more urgent than he’d expected -- and now, he’s stuck somewhere between Jim Valenti’s old hunting cabin and town. Fantastic. He’d already been running late to meet Forrest thanks to taking way too long to pick an outfit for their first official date, and now he’s over half an hour late.

As if it read his mind, Alex’s phone starts to ring, Forrest’s name flashing across the display. Groaning, Alex accepts the call and tries to crank the engine one more time. The attempt results in a screech and an alarming puff of smoke emerging from beneath the hood. With a bitten-off curse, Alex yanks the key from the ignition and throws the car door open, hastily putting a safe distance between himself and the smoking vehicle. Logic tells him that the smoke isn’t necessarily a precursor to an explosion, or even a fire, but years of military training and instinct are impossible to ignore.

“Hello? Hello? Alex, are you there?”

Alex glances from the still-smoking SUV to the phone in his palm, the source of the tinny-sounding voice calling his name. Frustrated with himself, he smacks a hand against his face and answers, hoping Forrest hasn’t already hung up on him. “Hey, yeah, I’m here. Sorry -- my car doesn’t want to start, and I guess I cranked it one too many times, because the engine just started smoking.”

For a moment, the only thing Alex hears on the other end of the line is blaring music. “I should probably not be relieved that your car blew up, huh?” Forrest asks, a self-deprecating laugh clear even through the pounding bass in the background. “I was starting to think you were standing me up.”

“What? Why would you think that?” Alex asks, putting the call on speaker so he could pull up Guerin’s contact information and start a new text while he listens. There’s no one else he could call at this hour, and he needs to be able to get to base on Monday, one way or the other. Michael would probably be able to fix the SUV, and even if he couldn’t do it overnight, he’d at least get Alex a loaner car for a few days while he did. And, after that, Alex wouldn’t have to worry about something like this happening again anytime soon; he could trust that Michael would actually fix the problem entirely, unlike any other mechanics in Roswell -- or in general, honestly.

My car gave up on me halfway to town. Any chance of some help?

It only occurs to Alex after the message has gone through that he should probably be a little more apprehensive about texting Guerin out of nowhere, but he’s really not. The two of them make a hell of a team, and after spending so much time together unravelling the mysteries of Nora and Tripp, and everything that came after, Alex is more confident than ever that Michael will always be part of his life -- even if it’s not in the way he’d initially hoped it would be. They’re family, whether or not they’re sleeping together, and Alex doesn’t doubt that anymore.

“Well, you weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of going to Planet 7,” Forrest is saying, answering Alex’s question about why he would stand him up, and Alex feels guilty for not giving him his full attention. “And I kind of pressured you into it. I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

It’s a fair assumption, Alex supposes. He hadn’t been thrilled with the suggestion of going to Roswell’s only gay bar, even after finding the courage to push his father’s hateful words and judgements out of his mind for long enough to pull Forrest into a kiss in the middle of the Wild Pony. But he’s not the kind of guy to agree to something he really doesn’t want to do for a date, and he’d assumed Forrest would know that -- like Guerin would have. But Forrest is different from Michael; he has no reason to take Alex at his word, lacks the intimate knowledge of who Alex is that Michael has somehow managed to collect through ten years of hook-ups, break ups, and hurt feelings. And that’s not Forrest’s fault -- so Alex needs to learn to communicate better, somehow, if this has any chance of working out.

“I’m still planning on coming,” he promises, looking out at the darkened horizon, visible only because of the moonlight. “Seriously, I would’ve been there already if it weren’t for the fact that my car decided that tonight was the night it was giving up on me. I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”

There’s an audible smile in Forrest’s voice as he responds, and Alex feels vaguely proud of himself for managing to put it there, despite everything. “Okay, awesome. Want me to come get you? It’s late, so I doubt anyone’s going to be able to tow you before morning. And trust me, you don’t need to rough it in the desert overnight to prove what a badass you are. I already know.”

Alex laughs, and opens his mouth to retort -- but his phone dings, signalling an incoming barrage of messages, and Alex opens them with a swipe of his thumb, once again distracted from the phone conversation.

Let me guess. You decided to ignore your check engine light again.

Or was it an oil change you put off for six months?

You realize routine maintenance isn’t actually a suggestion, right? You either get it done, or you end up stranded in the middle of the desert begging for a ride.

On my way now with the tow now. Can you give me anything more specific than halfway to town, or am I supposed to just drive and hope for the best?

Alex snaps a picture of the nearest mile marker with the flash on, and sends it to Guerin with a quick, I plead the 5th. See you soon.

“Hello? Alex! Alex, are you --”

Alex winces guiltily and puts the phone hurriedly back to his ear. “Sorry, sorry, I’m still here. What were you saying?”

Again, all Alex hears for a long moment is the thudding of the bass from whatever stupid pop song the DJ is playing, and he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. He already basically missed their date, and now he’s only half paying attention while Forrest is kind and understanding about it. Alex doesn’t deserve his patience.

“I was asking you where you are. I’ll come get you, and we can still get in a few hours of shitty music and half-off beer,” Forrest reiterates patiently, though Alex can tell he’s starting to reach the end of his reserves of understanding. And, considering the circumstances, Alex doesn’t blame him.

“No, don’t worry about it! That’s pretty far out of your way. I already have a tow truck coming, so I’ll just have them give me a ride into town, and I’ll meet you like we planned.” Alex pauses, reflecting on his words and wondering when, exactly, he’d decided to avoid using Michael’s name… and why. It’s not like Forrest didn’t already know that the two of them were good friends. It’s not like it meant anything, that Alex called Michael to help -- his car broke down, and Michael is a mechanic. None of that added up to anything that he needed to lie to Forrest about.

And yet.

“You found a garage open at this hour in Roswell?” Forrest asked incredulously. “I can’t even get fast food past eight, so you’re going to have to share some of your black market contacts.”

The expectation of a laugh is pretty obvious, so Alex manages a slightly strained chuckle. “Uh, well, I can probably hook you up with a burger at the Crashdown after hours, but that’s about it,” he retorts, even though Liz is long-gone, and the chances of after-hours snacks at the diner are a lot lower without her. “I just called Guerin, tonight. He pretty much runs Sanders’ garage these days, and lives out back, so it’s no big deal for him to come get me.”

Alex opts to ignore the fact that he knows Michael doesn’t usually drop whatever he’s doing to rescue stranded motorists who aren’t smart enough to get their vehicle to a garage when the ‘check engine’ light comes on when he’s not working. That’s just what friends do for each other, and Alex would do the same, if their positions were reversed.

“Oh.” Alex doesn’t know Forrest well enough to read the emotion in the short syllable, but he’s not naive enough to think he sounds pleased. “You two must be pretty good friends if he’s giving up his Friday night plans to come pick you up, huh?”

It seems like a loaded question, so Alex just says, “We’ve known each other a long time,” in response, and glances up as a set of slowing headlights wash over him. Sanders’ tow truck pulls off to the side of the road in front of Alex’s SUV, and Michael waves from the window, familiar curls bouncing from the motion. Alex waves back with a grin.

“He’s pulling up now, actually, so I’m going to get off of here. I’ll give you a call and let you know when I’m five minutes out, if you still want to try to spend some time together tonight?”

Alex watches as Michael hops out of the truck and starts toward him with the usual swagger in his stride. It’s hard to tell what he was doing before he got Alex’s text, because he’s wearing the same ragged jeans and worn jacket that Alex has seen him in a hundred times, but there’s enough volume in his curls to suggest he put some effort into his hair. A date with Maria, maybe? Or hanging out with Isobel, who loved to make fun of his hair if he didn’t put the effort in?

“Yeah, okay,” Forrest says, recapturing Alex’s attention for a minute. “I’ll stay and have a few drinks, and I’ll see you when you get here. Tell Michael I said ‘hey.’”

“Will do,” Alex says, and ends the call just as Michael reaches him, hand extended for the keys.

“So?” he asks, and despite the darkness, Alex knows exactly what the teasing expression on Michael’s face looks like. It’s always the same -- a furrowed brow, a mischievous glint in his eyes, even as he manages to keep his lips from turning up in a too-obvious smile. It’s a look that never ceases to make Alex’s heartbeat speed up, even now, when they’ve moved past any real chance of romantic reconciliation. “Which one was it? Check engine light or skipped oil change?”

Alex rolls his eyes, but tosses his keys into Michael’s open palm. “Look, it’s not my fault that the check engine light comes on when you need an oil change -- who wouldn’t assume that’s the problem and keep driving?” They’ve had this argument before; Alex always takes his car to Michael when something goes wrong, and Michael always has to point out that Alex sucks at taking care of an engine. At this point, Alex would almost be disappointed if the mocking stopped.

Michael shakes his head in faux disappointment and disappears to pop the hood, leaving Alex to follow behind and watch. Another wave of smoke wafts into the night sky when the hood opens, and Michael sends Alex a disbelieving look over his shoulder. “Seriously? How many times did you try to start it when it made the grinding noise? A hundred? This would’ve taken me two minutes to fix if you hadn’t kept pushing it.” He’s pulled a flashlight from somewhere and is shining the beam down into the guts of the SUV, staring at what, to Alex, looks like a bunch of hoses, wires, and smoke.

“Sorry,” Alex says sheepishly. “Don’t worry about it tonight if it’s going to take a while -- I’m sure you had plans. We can just tow it back to town and worry about it again on Monday, during actual working hours.”

There’s a clank and a thud, and another plume of smoke curls up from the engine. Michael groans, and straightens up to slam the hood closed. “Yeah, okay, I give up. Let’s just get it on the truck and I’ll figure out what you did to it when I can actually see what I’m doing.” They both take a few steps back, and Michael turns, looking down the silent road for a minute before glancing back at Alex. “I’m going to cheat, since there’s no one else around. You can just get in the truck if you want. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Michael doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s staring intensely at the SUV. After a moment, with a slide of gravel and the squeal of tires, the SUV moves up the ramp on its own. There’s a thud as the connections fasten under the guidance of Michael’s metaphysical hands, and a few minutes later, they’re on their way back into Roswell.

For once, the silence between them isn’t loaded with things they should have said. Alex is reclined in the seat, relaxed and comfortable with someone he trusts driving -- but the ease of the atmosphere evaporates quickly when Michael asks, “So where am I dropping you? Do you need a ride back out to your place?”

It shouldn’t be this hard to tell Michael that he’s meeting Forrest. They haven’t been together in a long time, if they ever really even were -- and Michael has Maria. It’s not like he’s going to be upset. But the words feel stuck in Alex’s throat as he opens his mouth to answer, and his stomach squirms unpleasantly. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m actually … meeting someone. At Planet 7.” His eyes are locked on the road straight ahead, but Alex can’t help himself; he glances at Michael through his periphery to check for a reaction.

Michael’s shoulders have lost their comfortable slouch, and his spine is rigid. He obviously still cares about who Alex is spending his time with -- but Alex isn’t going to apologize. They’re both moving on, and they need to remember that.

“Yeah,” Michael says finally. “I kind of guessed. You’re pretty dressed up for a night of snacks in front of the TV.”

Alex glances down at himself, taking in the dark-wash jeans and button-up shirt he’d selected for the occasion. “I guess so,” he agrees, sighing. “Uh, what were you doing with your night, before you were rudely interrupted by my smoking engine?” It’s not the most graceful subject change, but Alex doesn’t really care as long as they’re away from the topic of Forrest.

Michael snorts. “Trust me, I was relieved you called -- it’s my night to babysit Max and make sure he doesn’t take off after Liz. Towing a car is way more exciting than watching him boohoo into his beer.”

“I’m surprised you’re not glued to Maria’s side, since she just got out of the hospital.” Alex had only been trying to keep the conversation moving steadily away from his own date that night; he doesn’t expect Michael to go rigid in response. He blinks, turning in the passenger seat to get a better look at Michael’s expression, but he’s gone blank.

“Maria and I are over.” The answer, when it comes, is terse and definitely over-simplified, but Alex knows better than to ask for details. If Michael wanted to share, he would have already, and while friends might have license to pry into each other’s personal life, Alex doesn’t want Michael doing the same in return, so he stays quiet aside from a soft, “I’m sorry.”

The drive loses the easy sense of camaraderie after that. Alex spends the next twenty minutes into town fighting with a small, cruel voice in the back of his head that keeps whispering celebratory words about Michael’s break-up. They’re friends now. Friends don’t think like that, but even after a decade of separation, it’s hard not to think of Michael as more than a friend. Alex hopes that he just needs some practice; otherwise, none of this is going to end well.

Planet 7 isn’t exactly in the middle of town, but Michael finds it without any direction. Alex slides out of the passenger seat when he sees Forrest coming toward them, smiling, and glances back at Michael. “Thanks for the help, Guerin,” he says earnestly. “I really appreciate it.”

Michael nods, his expression still tense, though Alex thinks that’s less about his break-up and more about Forrest, now. “No problem. If you need a ride home, just let me know.”

Forrest has reached them by this point; one of his arms falls over Alex’s shoulders, and Alex only startles for a moment before relaxing again when he realizes who’s touching him. Michael’s eyes narrow slightly, but not enough to be noticeable to someone who isn’t really looking.

“That won’t be necessary,” Forrest tells Michael pleasantly, though he’s standing closer than he ever has before when they aren’t joined at the mouth. Alex sighs inwardly -- this is what he’d been trying to avoid. He doesn’t want Forrest thinking he needs to compete with Michael. Competition and jealousy in a relationship never ends well, and Alex wants one good thing in his life. Surely that’s not too much to ask? “I’ll make sure he gets home in one piece. Thanks for bringing him though, Alien Dude!”

Michael nods at Forrest, then glances back at Alex, an unreadable expression in his dark gaze. “I’ll call you tomorrow about the SUV,” he promises. “It might take me a couple of hours, but I’ll get it up and running for you by Monday. You need to be on base by six, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Guerin -- I owe you one.” Really, he’s lost track of who’s one-upping who when it comes to favors, but Alex isn’t interested in keeping score, and he doesn’t think Michael cares much, either.

Michael nods at them one more time, his eyes lingering on Alex’s face for long enough to make him start to squirm, and then he’s gone, disappearing in a plume of exhaust and the groan of overworked machinery, leaving Alex and Forrest staring after his his taillights and Alex feeling strangely bereft.

“All right,” Forrest says, his voice twice as cheerful as it had been only a moment ago. “Let’s get the night started, shall we? You missed out on Happy Hour, but I scored you a feather boa anyway.”

Alex laughs, letting the teasing ease him back from thinking about Michael and into focusing on Forrest and their plans. This is the path he’d chosen, the person he’d chosen. He’s never going to give up on being a part of Michael’s life, and he’ll protect the aliens and their secret with everything he has in him to make up for what his family did to theirs. But Michael can be his family without being his lover, and Alex needs to stop confusing the two before he winds up heartbroken and alone all over again.

Sometimes, love just isn’t enough. Cosmic doesn’t mean much without commitment, without trust, and there are too many complicated feelings between Alex and Michael to make a go of it. So he smiles, leans into Forrest’s side, and allows himself to be led into Planet 7 with a warm arm draped over his shoulders.

*******

Despite the anxiety leading up to their first few dates, being with Forrest turns out to be surprisingly easy. He’s smart and funny, quick with a witty comment or self-deprecating joke, and never pushes Alex further than he’s willing to be pushed. He understands Alex’s service background and love of writing, even if music isn’t his preferred medium, and encourages Alex to dress and act in a way that makes him feel true to himself. Alex smiles a lot around him, and laughs, and starting their relationship feels like sliding into an old, worn jacket -- soft and comfortable, without any real friction.

“So, basically, you’re bored,” Maria summarizes, after Alex finishes telling her about how smoothly things are going. They’re in the Wild Pony just after opening, Maria in her usual position behind the bar, Alex sitting on a stool opposite. She’s only been back to work for a few weeks after her stint in the hospital, but there’s no sign of weakness in the way she runs her business -- or the way she’s looking at him now.

“What? No! That’s not what I mean,” Alex argues, shaking his head quickly. “I said things are comfortable between us. That doesn’t mean I’m bored!”

Maria raised an eyebrow, her brightly-painted fingernails tapping against the bar. She’s dressed fairly conservatively tonigh in a flannel shirt and a pair of form-fitting jeans, but her nails are painted in pastels, a minor homage to her usual style. “Sweetie, you’ve been dating for what, two weeks? Relationships that new aren’t supposed to be easy, and definitely not comfortable. Two weeks in is like the honeymoon! You’re supposed to want to spend every waking moment together, to have to fight to keep your hands off of each other -- and instead of telling me about how hot he makes you, you’re comparing him to an old coat.” Skepticism drips from her words, and Alex crosses his arms over his chest and stares back at her in return annoyance.

“We’re taking things slow,” he says, and winces inwardly at the defensive tone.

While it’s true that Alex hasn’t exactly had to fight to keep his hands off of Forrest, he hasn’t been fully honest about them agreeing to take their sexual relationship slowly. Alex isn’t a prude, and it’s not that Forrest isn’t exactly his type. He’s just been unsure about taking that next step. Every time their dates end up at Forrest’s place -- and it’s honestly just a coincidence that Forrest has never stayed at Alex’s. It’s just always worked out that way; Alex isn’t trying to keep him out of his personal space -- and their goodbye turns into a little more than kiss, there’s always something holding Alex back from letting the moment continue. Forrest is great about it, and smiles when Alex pulls away, but after four dates and four attempts at moving onto second base, Alex can tell he’s starting to get frustrated.

Honestly, so is Alex. He doesn’t know why he’s so reticent to sleep with his boyfriend. Forrest has always been embarrassingly up front about finding Alex sexy, and he’s never so much as blinked at the realities of Alex’s amputation or scars -- but even so, Alex can’t do it. He’s just not ready.

But he’ll be damned if he admits any of that to Maria. Alex has no desire to know how she’d read into that information whatsoever.

“Uh-huh, right. Slow.” Maria pours a shot of whiskey into two glasses and slides one across the bartop to him, eyebrows raised in challenge, and Alex makes a face, but clinks his shot glass against Maria’s and knocks it back. “Okay, great. Are you drunk enough to tell me the truth now, or --”

“Whoa, shots before the sun goes down? And here I thought I was the town drunk.”

When Alex turns, he finds himself face-to-face with a smirking Michael Guerin. He’s wearing his usual jeans and open-collared shirt, black cowboy hat tipped forward on his head, and he’s obviously trying to act nonchalant. But Alex knows that he’s been avoiding Maria ever since she broke up with him -- Maria had been complaining about it half an hour ago. With that in mind, he looks at Michael again, and sees the tense lines around his eyes and the sharp edges of his smile.

“I think I’ve got a ways to go before I’m even tipsy,” Alex retorts, shaking his head in bemusement. “But you’re welcome to join us and see how many shots it takes.” In the weeks since their last meeting, it’s gotten easier to be around Michael without worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing. They’ve relaxed back into their usual banter, supported by genuine care for each other, and Alex isn’t spending every second of every interaction analyzing microexpressions anymore. It’s a nice change, and he’s planning on doing whatever he can to make sure it sticks around this time.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could,” Michael groans, and gestures over one shoulder with his thumb. Alex follows the movement and finds Isobel and Max Evans settling into a table at the back of the bar. Isobel’s perfectly-lined eyes are rolling in what can only be exasperation, and Max just looks miserable. There are bags beneath his eyes, and his hair and beard have seen better days, while Isobel is her usual immaculate self in floral dress with a flowing skirt and an updo. “Iz decided she’s had enough of Max’s moping and wants to get him laid.”

The disbelieving noise that escapes from Alex’s throat really isn’t a reflection on Max’s looks -- he has no doubt that, if his heart were in it, the defacto leader of Michael’s little family could find someone to take home with him. But the guy is clearly miserable and heartbroken over Liz’s departure, still. There’s no way Isobel’s going to convince him to pick anyone up tonight, no matter how many beautiful women she parades past the table.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Michael says, shaking his head. “I told her she’s crazy. Max has been pining over Liz for longer than he’s known how to speak in complete sentences. There’s no way he’s moving on that easy -- but you know how Isobel is.” He shrugs, a what can you do? sort of gesture, and Alex is stopped from answering by Maria clearing her throat pointedly from behind the bar.

Michael glances her way, his shoulders tensing for a second, but his smile is only slightly strained. “‘Sup, Deluca?” he asks. “I need three of whatever you’ve got on tap.” The interaction is wholly impersonal, and Alex almost winces for Maria, who definitely didn’t miss the cool tone in Michael’s voice as he spoke to her. Obviously, he’s still upset about the break-up, or at least holding onto some hard feelings. It’s not like Alex can blame him either, as much as he wants to be able to take Maria’s side, or at least understand her perspective. But Alex knows what it’s like to love Michael Guerin, and he knows what it’s like to lose him, and he can’t understand why Maria would put herself through that if she didn’t have to. She hasn’t really explained herself, either, to Michael or to Alex, so it’s almost impossible to empathize.

“You should come hang out,” Michael invites, when Maria turns away to get his drinks. “There’s already a crowd, so she’s going to be too busy to chat soon.” He’s right; the Pony has filled up while Maria grilled him on Forrest, and there’s already a line forming at the bar. For now, the second bartender has it covered, but it won’t be long before Maria will have to devote her full attention to running drinks. “You get company, I have someone to buffer and maybe stop me from killing one of my siblings . . . it’s a win-win situation, really.”

Alex chuckles, and nods his easy agreement. He’s not entirely sure how he feels about Max Evans after what he did to Flint -- it’s not like he hadn’t had a good reason to want the man dead, considering what he’d done, but despite all of his sins, Flint is still Alex’s brother. But it’s hard to look at the guy moping in a bar full of people and see a cold-blooded killer, and Alex wants to like Max. Plus, Isobel is always good for a laugh and at least one ridiculous story, and Alex never needs much of an excuse to spend time with Michael. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “But I’m telling you, if Max starts crying into his cup, I’m out of there.”

“Deal,” Michael agrees with a laugh. He heads back to the table with Isobel and Max, his body language getting looser the further he gets from Maria. Alex wonders if he realizes how much more relaxed he seems as he rejoins Max and Isobel -- before Max’s death, that was the last word he would have used to describe Michael in his presence, but now, it’s like something has clicked between them, and Guerin is clearly most comfortable with his family.

Alex tries not to hope that extends to him.

“He’s still giving you the cold shoulder, huh?” Alex asks, once Michael is out of earshot. He’ll go join them in a minute, after he has a chance to say goodbye to Maria and try, one more time, to figure out why she’d ended a relationship that seemed to make her genuinely happy.

Sighing, Maria nods. “Guess so. I was hoping that it’d get better, once he finally started coming back to the Pony, but --” she waves a hand in Guerin’s vague direction, the golden bangles on her wrist clacking together. “I get a ‘hey, how are you?’ and a ‘I’ll take a beer, please,’ and that’s about it. He doesn’t even try to get out of paying anymore, and I never thought I’d be bummed about that.” Her nose wrinkles, and Maria hunches forward over her elbows on the bar, looking run down. “I miss him, you know?”

Alex knows. Intimately. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have broken up with him?” he suggests leadingly, hoping that he’ll get a reason without having to ask, explicitly, why Maria had ended things. The suggestion sends a brief shock of something through his chest, but Alex doesn’t let himself stop to analyze it.

Maria rolls her eyes, but there’s a lingering sadness in them that Alex could pick up from across town. He knows Maria too well to fall for the act she’s putting on, and they both know it. “I had to,” she says finally, the words slow enough that Alex can tell she’s thinking it through even as she answers. “I didn’t want to, but—“ The sentence hangs in the air between them, but Maria doesn’t finish; instead, she shrugs. “I didn’t doubt that he loved me, you know. That wasn’t it— I know he thinks it was. But when you went missing, he just... didn’t think. Didn’t stop to ask for help, or wonder what he was walking into. He just started off on this crusade to get you back, all on his own.”

Alex opens his mouth, ready to tell her that Michael would have done the same for her, and that kind of recklessness probably isn’t a healthy, positive trait in a stable relationship, but Maria silences him with a look.

“Every time I called, every time I needed him— it wasn’t like that. He was always there, he always showed up for me— I’m not complaining! But Michael never jumped without looking, without thinking first, when it came to me. He was never desperate, or past reason, you know? He always managed to keep his secrets, or protect his family while he was saving me. But he didn’t do that when it came to you. Michael thought you were in real, mortal danger, and his first instinct was to do whatever was necessary to save you, and screw whoever else it might hurt.”

What the hell is he supposed to say to that? He sees where Maria is going with her explanation, now, and he’s not proud of the small, smug feeling hiding beneath the incredulity growing under his breastbone. “Maria, that’s not --”

“And,” Maria interrupts, raising her voice as if determined to be heard, whether Alex wants to listen or not. “As stupid as it sounds, considering the sci-fi horror movie our lives have become, I want someone to be that desperate at the thought of losing me.” Maria laughs, then, a short, self-deprecating sound. “I don’t want to play second-fiddle to the one great love of his life, Alex. As much as I love him, as much as I believe he loves me, dating isn’t fair for either of us.”

Alex stares at her, his lips parted as he flounders for the right words. He’s torn between trying to convince her that she’s wrong, that he and Michael are doing well at being friends and that it’s enough, and telling her that maybe she’s right, that it was never going to work out, and he wants her to be happy.

“That’s not— he’s not—“ Alex can’t argue, really. He knows, deep down, in the same part of his subconscious that knows the sky is blue and the grass is green, that Michael would do anything for him, and Alex would do the same in return. Even when they couldn’t look at each other without wanting to scream or cry, they’d always done their best to protect one another, and Alex doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. He’d promised Michael, once, that he’d keep him safe from his family, from the government, and Alex isn’t going to go back on his word on the off-chance that Michael and Maria might manage to work things out.

“Look, Maria,” he says finally. “Helena asked him to build a weapon of mass destruction.” The words feel the words like they’re being torn from his throat, but Alex perseveres. “And he did it. If she’d wanted him to build a bomb that could kill everyone in town, or more— he really might have done it, no matter who got hurt, just like you said.” Another full shot glass appears in front of him when he pauses, and Alex throws it back without a second thought, hoping the liquor will ease the ache caused by reliving everything that’s gone wrong with Guerin. “And how am I supposed to live with that? Knowing what he might do? What I could do, if our roles got reversed?”

The question is as good as admitting that Alex still has feelings for Michael, and he knows it. Hiding things, especially feelings, from Maria DeLuca has always been all but impossible, and this time, she’d barely had to give him a nudge before he spilled his guts. Damn it. How is he supposed to go over and drink with Michael and his family now?

“See? The fact that you didn’t even try to deny it is pretty telling, Alex,” Maria says, her lips quirked at the corners. “Instead, you immediately jump to how dangerous the lengths you’d go to for each other are. And yeah, maybe it’s a bad idea for you to be together -- I don’t know. That’s for you two to figure out.” Soft hands tighten around his. “But I had to make a choice for myself, too, and now I’m sure I made the right one.”

The noises of the bar and growing crowd around them fill the silence until Alex squeezes Maria’s hands and moves to pull back to say goodbye, before Guerin comes back to ask what’s taking so long -- the last thing either of them need is for Michael to overhear this conversation. But Maria’s grip tightens instead of releasing, and when Alex glances up at her, eyebrow raised in question, she’s staring at him with a strange intensity that tells him he really, really doesn’t want to hear whatever she’s about to say next.

“Don’t you think that Forrest should have a chance to make that choice?” she asks, and Alex yanks his hands free as he slides down from the barstool, more than ready to tell Maria to have a good night and leave. “I know you don’t want to hear it, Alex, but dating him is no different than Michael dating me. And--”

“And what, Maria?” Alex demands sharply. “You want me to tell you that I’m not sure about Forrest? You want me to admit there are times when we’re together that I have to remind myself that he’s not Michael, and I can’t expect him to know stupid things like the fact that I never remember to get a freaking oil change? Yeah, okay! I’ve been in love with Michael since I was seventeen. I can’t just flip a switch and stop feeling that way, even if it’s the right thing to do!”

Flustered at the sudden deluge of feeling and irritated by Maria’s pushing, Alex barely registers when Maria’s gaze jerks to one side and widens. “Alex -”

But he’s been holding back for weeks, months, years of watching Michael with other people and trying to open himself up to dating, too, and Alex isn’t ready to stop talking now that he’s started. So he ploughs forward, ignoring her interruption. “But you can’t compare yourself with Forrest, either -- it’s not the same. We’re dating! It’s fun, but he’s not in love with me. It’s not --”

“Alex!”

“Oh, no, don’t interrupt him on my account.”

Fuck. Like he was free-falling from a plane without the guarantee of a parachute, Alex’s stomach sinks and flips.

Forrest.

Alex spins around to find the guy he’s supposed to be dating standing less than a foot away, back and to Alex’s right, just a little in front of the crowd that now stretches from the entrance to the bar itself. Horror and guilt bloom in his stomach, making him feel nauseous. Alex struggles to make his mouth form words, his mind spinning as he tries to put together an explanation for whatever Forrest had just heard -- and what had he heard? How long has he been standing there? Alex honestly has no fucking clue, and the horrified, apologetic expression on Maria’s face suggests that she doesn’t, either. “I --” Alex shakes his head and forces a smile on his face. He can only hope it doesn’t look too fake. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” he says, biting his lower lip.

Both of Forrest’s eyebrows lift high enough that they disappear into his hairline. “Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty obvious,” he drawls, arms crossed defensively over his chest. Alex’s heartbeat speeds as the uncomfortable moment stretches between them, and for once, he’s grateful when someone drops a quarter in the jukebox and starts blaring an old country song at top volume. It cuts through the awkwardness a little, at least. “I came to meet a couple of friends who wanted to talk about plans to expand Open Mic night -- so, imagine my surprise when I came over here and heard the guy I’m dating talking about still being in love with his ex.”

Alex grips the edge of the bar, hard, and looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he says quietly, the words barely audible over the din of the bar. “Can we maybe go somewhere to talk about this? I know I owe you an explanation, and I didn’t mean to --”

But Forrest shakes his head before he can even finish the sentence, lips thin and eyes hard. “Look,” he says, and the timbre of his voice matches the look in his eyes. “We haven’t been dating long, and you really don’t owe me an explanation. I’ve known you have history with Guerin since we met at the barn, and it’s not like I haven’t had plenty of clues since then that you’re not over him.” He runs fingers through his vibrantly blue hair, looking away from Alex while his jaw clenches and unclenches. When his gaze meets Alex’s again, the anger is still obvious, but this time, resignation is, too. “I mean, come on. You called him to come pick you up for our first date, when I could have come to get you just as easily after the car died. And last week, when you were talking to Liz in the car? You should have seen the way your face lit up when you started telling her about how he’s thinking about going to college or whatever. And that song -- fuck. How did I miss that the song was about him?”

Forrest paces in a small circuit around the barstools in their immediate area, and Alex remains silent, unable to say or do anything to defend himself or correct Forrest -- because everything he’s said is true. Alex may not have realized it, and he’d truly gone into this relationship with the best of intentions, but he’d never really wanted Forrest. He’d liked the way he felt with Forrest, enjoyed being flirted with and pushed out of the comfort zone he’d hidden within for so long, and Alex had mistaken liking Forrest’s company for romantic feelings. And all the while, he’d been trying to push away real romantic feelings for Guerin, like he’d been doing for the last decade of his life.

God, he’s such an asshole.

“So. Here it is. I’m going to go home, get drunk, and hate you for a while. You’re going to leave me alone. And then, in a few months when I can look at you without wanting to either yell or cry, we’re going to be friends. Because there aren’t enough gay guys in Roswell, and I think we could both use a friend who gets it.”

It’s such a Forrest way of breaking up with Alex that he almost laughs. It didn’t seem like anything could ruffle Forrest’s feathers -- it had been one of the things that drew Alex to him from the start. That constant calm, the feeling that no matter how chaotic and out of control Alex got, Forrest would be steady. But a desire for control, or something easy, isn’t a good enough reason to be with someone, not when Alex has always thrived in high-pressure situations, has always sought out the adrenaline rush. Maybe it’s a side effect of his ruined childhood, but Alex has always preferred the chaos of his time with Michael to anything else.

Alex swallows, his smile small and a little sad when he nods at Forrest. “Okay. I can do that. But seriously, I really am sorry. I really thought that I could move on, and I wanted to try with you because you always made me feel so brave.”

Forrest sucks in a breath, shakes his head again, and disappears into the crowd, headed toward the exit.

Alex doesn’t go after him.

******

It takes Michael about twenty minutes to find him after Alex leaves the Wild Pony. He’d considered sticking around and drinking until the shame and guilt melted away into an alcoholic haze, but ultimately, Alex has enough problems without adding alcoholism to the list. So he’d said goodnight to a still-apologetic Maria, avoided the stares and whispers that came from being dumped very publicly in a small, gossip-mongering town, and slipped out into the street.

He walks home, thankful for the house he bought that’s only a mile or so from the Wild Pony and the fact that he’s able to walk for a mile without the pinching and aching his old prosthetic had caused. He’ll be sore tomorrow, probably, but it’s worth the night air and the chance to clear his head. The confrontation with Forrest had been so public that Alex is feeling more embarrassed than guilty, at this point, but he knows that when that dies down, he’ll be angry with himself for hurting someone that way. No, Forrest hadn’t been in love with him, but that didn’t excuse the way Alex had treated him -- and he’s going to have to deal with that, somehow.

“You know, I’m pretty sure normal people don’t walk down abandoned alleys at this hour,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and instead of jumping at the unexpected presence, Alex lets go of the tension he hadn’t known he was carrying. Michael Guerin’s voice has always meant security, to Alex, even when it wasn’t guaranteed.

“Good thing neither of us are normal people,” Alex shoots back, stopping to wait for Michael to catch up. When they’re shoulder to shoulder, he starts forward again, falling into step with Guerin without even thinking about it. “I thought you’d still be at the Pony-- it’s awfully early, if you’re trying to keep that town drunk title.”

Michael huffs a laugh. “What do you mean? They ended the night with a floor show, so I figured the bar was closing.” He should probably be offended by the joke, Alex thinks, or at the very least embarrassed that Michael most likely overheard everything Forrest said, but he’s not. Instead, he’s just glad that Michael cared enough to chase after him, even now.

They walk in silence for a while longer before they arrive at the fence around Alex’s yard. He opens it with his key and gestures Michael inside -- he’s come this far, after all, and he isn’t trying to make an excuse to leave. Alex kills the security system and leads the way into the kitchen, kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his jacket as he goes. “You want coffee?” he asks, heading straight for the coffee pot that’s served him well for the last several years.

Michael shrugs. “Sure, if you’re making it anyway.” He leans against the wall of cabinets a foot or so away from where Alex is measuring out coffee grounds, one foot propped casually behind him, arms hanging loose at his sides, and Alex can feel the weight of his stare as he flips the power switch on the coffee pot. But neither of them say anything, and the anticipation of the moment when someone finally breaks is enough to make Alex’s pulse speed up.

“So, are we going to talk about this, or --?” Unsurprisingly, Guerin is the first one to give in and speak.

Alex turns to face him properly, fidgeting with the bottom of his henley as he does. “Do you want to?”

It’s a fair question. Every time Alex has tried to talk to Guerin about their relationship, about the chance of moving forward, Michael’s been the one to say ‘no,’ or to walk away, and Alex doesn’t know if he’s brave enough to try again without some reassurance that this time will be different. He doesn’t mind fighting for Michael, doesn’t mind protecting him and loving him from a distance, if that’s what he needs, but there’s a limit to the number of times he can put himself on the line and be vulnerable only to have it thrown back in his face.

There’s a beat of silence, but ultimately, Michael nods. “Last time we talked about this, I couldn’t unravel what your father did to my mother from you and me,” he says quietly, his grease-stained fingers drumming idly on his own arms. “And I needed to know if I could find something -- someone -- who didn’t have the same power over me that you always have. Being with you has always made me feel like I’m in free fall, and I couldn’t be sure there wasn’t about to be a fiery crash landing.”

It hurts more than Alex expected, to hear that, but he knows he’s given Michael reason to worry. “Yeah,” he sighs, flipping the coffee pot off when the light comes on, signalling that it’s done brewing. “Is that still how you feel now?” If the answer is ‘yes,’ Alex doesn’t know where this conversation will lead, but he needs to know either way.

“Alex, I’m pretty sure I’m always going to feel out of control when I’m around you,” Michael says bluntly, taking a step forward, his gaze intent on Alex’s face. “You and me, we’ve never been easy, and my bet is that if we try this, we’re going to have to put some effort in to make it work -- but my mom never got the chance to be with Tripp. She had a lot more reasons than I do to be afraid, or to run in the other direction, and she didn’t, because she knew that love was worth it.”

Reading Tripp’s journal had been an emotional experience for all involved, but Alex wonders if he missed Michael having this revelation that day. He’d been caught up in his own thoughts, his own regrets for himself and his father, and the people they might have been if Tripp survived, so he supposes it’s possible.

“I don’t want to spend any more time wondering if we can be happy together,” Michael continues, suddenly close enough that Alex can feel his breath against his face. As usual, his mere proximity makes Alex’s cheeks feel warm and his stomach feel tight. He couldn’t speak now, even if he wanted to interrupt. “I don’t want to wake up every day for the rest of my life with the same hollow feeling in my gut when I realize you’re not in bed beside me. I don’t want to watch you date anymore assholes who make you smile, and I -- fuck, I want to be able to remind you to get your damn car serviced so you don’t end up stranded on the side of the road!”

Alex’s laugh is a little wet, and he’s reaching out to touch Michael’s stubbled cheek before his mind registers the action. He’s utterly overwhelmed with Michael’s admission, blown away by the honesty and the affection and the care, and God, he wants. He aches for Michael in that moment like he’d spent the better part of a decade aching for him in another part of the world, homesick for a person who wasn’t his anymore, and Alex wants to reclaim that home now more than ever.

Michael swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively, and continues, “I still can’t look away, Alex. And it hasn’t been our time, but now -- now I think it could be. If you still want to try this with me.”

This time, Alex’s laugh is incredulous. “I thought you heard what Forrest said at the bar,” he says, his expression impossibly fond as he looks back at Michael. “I’m in love with you. And I’m done running.”

The impulse to do it again will come back, he knows. Alex’s spent his entire adult life running, in some way or another, and that’s not going to vanish overnight because he has Michael. But he wants to stay, now. He wants to make a home with the man in front of him, wants to tie their lives together in every conceivable way and spend the rest of his days protecting Michael and making him happy. And that’s a pretty solid foundation on which to build.

Michael’s smile is wide and earnest in a way Alex has so rarely seen, and he drinks it in, promising himself that he’s going to take every opportunity to make Michael smile that way in the future.

And then, without overthinking, without worrying about what happens next, Alex closes the remaining distance between their bodies and seals their lips together in a hard, affirming kiss. Michael’s arms close around him, and Alex allows himself to melt into the warm, strong chest in front of him, content in the knowledge that Michael won’t let him fall.

For the first time since he went to war at eighteen, Alex Manes is officially home.

[harringtonheartache]

Daybreak | Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part seventeen of this fic. New day, new problems. Angst-inducting, perhaps. Heh. 

Word Count:  3,700 -ish

Warning(s): Cussing

A/N: This chapter went in a direction I wasn’t expecting, but it gives me ideas.

Wednesday morning Steve didn’t wake up to his alarm clock. In fact, he hadn’t set it for a few days, and his school attendance record would show the word MISSING in all capitals next to the first two days of the week, followed by this very Wednesday, accompanied by the same word. The buzzing of his alarm was replaced with the sound of his front door slamming, and where usually he rolled over, slapped at his clock, and stayed in bed for a little bit longer, this new sound made him jump right up. His feet pattered across his bedroom floor and his hands reached for his door handle. He creaked it open, peered into the hallway, then turned around to look to Nine who was sat up in bed, looking right back at him. “Stay here. If you hear anyone come upstairs, hide.” 

Steve trotted down the stairs, twitching his lips in preparation to fake a smile. A hand on the banister, he hopped off the last step and circled around to face the living room. Intending to advance through the room to find the kitchen — where he knew the newly arrived would be — he stepped forward two strides before stopping where he was instead. He glanced over the room, eyeing glassware scattered across surfaces, blankets piled on the couch; things in incriminating doubles, he realized. He swiped a hand down to grab up one of two glasses on the coffee table, then spun on his heels in search of another half he could snatch before someone pondered why it was there looked to be two people living in the home only one was supposed to occupy for the past few days. 

“Steve?” his name was called from elsewhere, then repeated, this time louder as the womanly voice advanced on him.

 “What are you doing here?” it asked, accompanied by quickened footsteps. Against the wooden floor shoes knocked heavily. 

He turned quickly to face his mother, hands still fiddling with the water glass he had picked up in a panic. “Hey, mom,” he said, while ill-prepared, still managing to be artificially easygoing. 

“It’s Wednesday.” She said it like he needed a reminder, pausing while he stretched out his neck as if he didn’t understand why she was mentioning it. “Why aren’t you at school?” 

“Oh, I- ah… overslept.” he said shrugging, that false smile he just couldn’t stop from using tugging at his lips. 

“Did you even go at all while we were gone?” his mom questioned, wanting to sound exasperated but not quite able to overlook the expectation in her gut that echoed of course he didn’t.

“I… have a bad habit of oversleeping,” he told her. 

She sighed, looking away from him in irritance, mind flipping through ideas of what to do next. Eyes drifting across the damage he had done to the living room, she jumped to the next thing she could scold him about. “If you’re going to skip school, you could at least clean up after yourself”. He followed her gaze, silent as he counted what around the room belonged to Nine. 

“Just get out of the house,” she spoke up. He looked to her expectantly, wondering if she had decided my son is just messy enough to do this on his own. “I’ll clean up after you, like I always do,” she snipped. 

Steve inhaled, opening his mouth as he tried to slop together an excuse for staying home. He could leave easily, but sneaking a person from his bedroom to come with him, someone who was known to attract unwanted attention in public, threatened him enough to oppose his mother. All five-foot-six of her (five-foot-eight if you measured her with the heels on), with her stiff posture and stiffer hair. While she didn’t appear much of a threat to begin with, Steve hadn’t given up on trying to appease her.

She turned away from him, then spun back suddenly, like she had just remembered something. “Go to the library,” she threw a hand up to gesture to him. “Study! God knows your grades probably need it.” 

This time when she turned around, she left, shoes resuming their clacking against the hardwood. Left behind, Steve bit at his tongue.  

-

He returned to his room, his bed now a vacant pile of covers. He shut the door behind him then whispered to the air. “It’s me,” he spoke to the unseen. Kneeling on the carpet, his hands found the bed skirt and gave it a tug, knowing just where Nine would have retreated. And there she was, lying with her chin rested on her stacked hands, like a child bored of hide-and-seek. Peering at her, a calm smile, Steve reached a hand towards her and pulled it back to himself when he felt her small grasp.

“My parents are back,” he said, a voice that would convince you this was only a mild inconvenience. He sat on the side of his bed but Nine stayed up, leaning against a set of drawers behind her. He sighed and she watched. A hand ran through his hair, smoothing it back but still unable to tame his bed-head. “So what do we do?” she asked.

“My mom wants us to get out of the house. Me. Not- not us. Well, yeah, us. She doesn’t know you’re- never mind,” he said, gesturing hand fallen to his side. He rubbed his good eye then remembered his bad. He poked at the skin underneath it, the sting resurfacing beneath his curious jabs. If he had looked in a mirror it would look better —not completely— but a faded version of a once brighter bruise. He remembered the look on his mom's face when she had seen him. Wide eyes with a stare that lingered more on shock than worry. An expression that dwindled quickly, then completely vanished, replaced with annoyance for more pressing concerns. Who cared what his face looked like, why wasn’t he out of the house?

He thought about the aged scar on his hand. Opened his fingers to glance down at it, then drew his eyes back up like it were a stupid worry to call to mind. Had she just never noticed, or never cared? 

First Nine contemplated how low she should speak, if his parents a floor down could hear her whispers. “Where are we going to go?” she questioned, quieter than the first time she spoke. She then wondered if mom and dad would be able to differentiate between the sound of one pair of footsteps and the sound of two. 

“I don’t know,” he said. He flipped through options in his head, a picture book of locations: storefronts, the arcade, even the woods had a dedicated page; perhaps only because they met the criteria of being somewhere outside of his home he had gone with her. Just one of the three choices hadn’t ended in a situation debatably disastrous, and even as the last pin standing, the arcade didn’t feel like a suitable place to crash for a few hours. 

 “We don’t have to go anywhere, we can just drive,” he proposed instead. 

-

Quick to agreement, the two stood in the hall just outside Steve’s bedroom door. Nine looked down, over-sized Nike’s still loose around two feet. Multiple layers of socks were snug around her, intended to cancel out the extra room in the sneaker. She bent down to tug on the laces once more, but they still felt loose. 

“I’ll go down first. I don’t hear anyone though, so maybe we can just sneak right out the front like last time,” Steve whispered, the jingle of his car keys in his hand louder than his own voice. 

He crept down the stairs, the presence of a small house cat. Nine was a few quiet strides behind him, and stayed crouched as Steve paused in front of her. They were both squatted, an individual stair for each of them, in a line like dominoes waiting to be knocked over. 

A moment of hesitation, panic completely without sound. Their timing was off, and neither one of his parents had finished their business in the home’s main quarters. First he heard his mother’s voice: an annoyed chatter calling after someone whose back was to her, someone walking away. He didn’t move, a sitting (but very still) duck. Even if the fear hadn’t forbade him from moving, a dash couldn’t have been made back to his room in the time it took for his father to round the corner, placing a hand on the banister as he climbed up one step. A number of steps from the top of the staircase, only three from his son and Nine. His head was thrown down, eyes watching his feet, mouth open as he loudly called back to his wife. 

Nine’s hand reached forwards in a scare, clasping over the back of Steve’s shoulder. A second longer and the sense that someone was there in front of him would start to draw Mr. Harrington’s head up from the floor. But movement stopped with the sensation of a small static shock on Steve’s back, that feeling when a person touches a doorknob and it zaps their fingertips. His father stood now both still and silent, despite having been mid-sentence just a second ago. No choked upon words, no deliberate pause in movement, just pure absence of… time. Like someone had pressed pause on a remote pointed straight at the man in front of them. 

Steve accidentally leaned forward, a fall he caught himself from with his fingertips against the stair before him. He looked up at his father, almost waiting for him to resume like the stillness was only Steve’s own panic. Nine’s grip was still strong on his shoulder, and as he pushed himself back up to steady himself where he had been, he turned his head to give her a wide-eyed look. Nine’s eyes were squeezed shut in a flinch, but blinked open as if a bomb in front of her hadn’t gone off like expected. She followed her line of sight past Steve and looked to his father, just as confused as the boy she grasped onto. The sudden lack of an explosion they had both been waiting for ushered shared looks between the two.

“What the fuck just happened?” Steve said, using only a whisper as if he’d disrupt and resume if he spoke too loudly. 

Nine’s words wavered from her mouth, a hesitated sentence put together as it was spoken. “I think I… stopped time.”

“Why am I not… frozen?” Steve said, looking back to his father, noting the lack of sound from his mother elsewhere in the house. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never done this”. 

They stood at the same time, retreat the clearest idea in both of their heads, and Nine kept her hand right where it was against Steve. They ascended the stairs backwards, one step at a time, careful to keep an eye aimed on his father as if he’d jump into action if they dared to look away. Two pairs of footsteps, distinctive yet soft against the carpeted flooring. Sneaking off like children, they stood back in Steve’s room in the muted ambiance of his house. Still unmoving, still unnaturally so. 

Nine’s hand curved against the fabric of Steve’s shirt as they turned around to face one another, and she dropped it with hesitance. 

“So you can freeze time now?” Steve asked, voice increased from a whisper but still soft-spoken. He dwindled somewhere between panic and excitement, eyes large and searching the girl before him. 

“I guess so, I don’t know how I did it.” If Steve was uncertain, Nine was fully alarmed.

“Well how do you undo it?”

“I don’t know what eith-”

A flash of Steve’s lights cut her off, the sound of a twitching light bulb and the sudden resumption of sound elsewhere. Mr. Harrington finished his sentence to his wife, his voice booming over the creaking of the stairs beneath his (once again moving) feet. Steve’s eyebrows jumped and he swiveled quickly to place a hand against his door, pushing it closed with a click. He carefully leaned his back against it, letting out a small huff of air before holding his breath again to listen to his father on the other side. 

The clattering of objects was heard, his father’s hands digging in the hall closet for something so unimportant you’d think it was ironic. He left just as simply as he had come, undisturbed and unaware of what he almost intruded on. 

“Holy shit,” Steve said, exasperated. 

Nine blinked a few times and blew a shaky breath from her mouth, her lips in an ‘o’ as the air escaped like a deflating balloon. She wiggled her fingertips as if she were anticipating something, as if she’d have to ball up her fists for a fight. And then she did, clenching them for a moment, nails digging at her palm before she released and shook them out. Once, twice, three times in a solid attempt to rid herself of the feeling that she was being squeezed. Her thickly-wrapped arm stung as she jerked it in her movement, but she either didn’t mind or didn’t notice the feeling. She dropped her hands down to her sides and Steve pushed himself from the door he had been with his back against. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, forgetting completely for a moment that they were supposed to be whispering. 

Her hands, never resting, lifted again and found one another in front of her as she began vehemently cracking her fingers. She didn’t register his voice, instead focusing on the pops coming from her joints. Her whole right hand wrung around her opposite thumb and she pulled downwards, but it didn’t crack. 

Steve said her name but she didn’t look up, waiting for that pop from her thumb. 

He stepped forwards. “Hey”. He was more gingerly speaking this time, watching her face even though she refused to look back at him. From his side a hand reached slowly to her two, violently conjoined together, and placed itself steady over-top, stilling their movement. 

“Hey.” He was fully whispering again, perhaps quieter than such. 

Her hands un-clasped from around each other and she looked up to him, wavering eyes, a heavy gaze. 

“It’s okay. You just saved us. Again. It’s not a bad thing,” he started out slow then cracked a smile at the tail end of his words. A sideways grin; expectant, almost, accompanied by a huff of air like he couldn’t comprehend why she wasn’t smiling back at him. Nine dropped her hands back to her sides like she didn’t wish to hold them any longer, and Steve’s touch fell with them. 

“Yes it is,” she told him quietly, her mouth staying slightly agape when she was finished. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, drawing together. Neither one of them able to see why the other didn’t get it. 

“What do you mean?” Steve mirrored her own expression, and it made her more worried. “Discovering a new super power seems like a plus”. His eyes drifted, head rolling to the side as he looked away from her for a moment. That smile left as he spoke but his attitude made up for its loss, still oblivious and dangerously light-hearted. 

“It’s not,” she retaliated, “If I go back there it just gives them more reason to experiment with me”. Her voice was getting weaker, and it wasn’t because she feared others in the house hearing. 

“You’re not going back,” Steve cut in, fool’s confidence but genuine heart. 

“You can’t make that promise!” Nine’s tone was cold but not crudely so. Her words were breaking, as was she, and it was evident. 

Steve was silent this time, no immediate return, no smile left on his lips. He shook his head lightly, desperate to fix. 

“If they come back you can use it against them-”

“I don’t want to use it against anybody!”

“No, but you have the advantage is what I’m saying,” Steve was practically pleading now, hands at his chest as he gestured to her and to nothing as they waved around. He was desperately trying to recover his point, like an attempt to keep a match from going out. “It can be, like, your own secret weapon”. 

Nine stopped her attempts at explanation, shoulders falling forward, lips parting but words absent. There that word was again — the one that floated around her mind most days, most instances she used her powers — weapon. Still sharp as ever, perhaps sharper considering whose mouth it came from. She closed her mouth, tears brimming at her eyes for a few seconds before she even noticed. A harsh swallow suppressed them as best she could, but her face still stayed dismal.

“You don’t fucking get it,” she said. Her features grew more cold, a sorrowful mix of animosity and heartbreak just sour enough to make anyone on the receptive end feel perhaps just as badly. 

Steve’s head drew back, and as if he were speaking to a child, it shocked him when she cursed. It was the first time he had heard her do so, he realized, and he couldn’t help that ping of fear that warned him it meant he had really fucked up. He wished he could place his hands upon hers again, something silent but meaningful, weighted enough to erase the damage he had done. They both stood with arms draped to their sides though, the space between them increased only a small amount from Nine’s retreat but feeling more substantial with the accompaniment of the stares. The stares and the silence, like time was again frozen cold. 

“I- didn’t mean…” his recovery trailed off, unsure of how to finish itself. The room was still before Nine spoke again, a swallow first to re-steady her voice.

“I’ve been a weapon my entire life”. She spoke stronger now but there was still a shadow to her words that revealed their hurt. Her throat was stitched-up, long threads tightly holding her together as best as they could.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything- anything about you like that. You’re not a weapon, I know that.” Steve said softly. His feet twisted in an uncomfortable attempt to steady himself — in every aspect. His shadow swayed as he replanted them a step forward, and he looked at her a moment before continuing. Nine’s chest fell — a decompressing exhale — and he could tell that she was chewing at the inside of her mouth. Her face was still resentful, eyebrows turned down to give him a glare that advised she wasn’t ready to accept his apology as-is. His startled words of regret drifted in the air between them, not yet shooed away by his forthcoming addition to the meager ‘sorry’. 

A few more heartfelt ‘sorries’ and reaffirmation that he hadn’t meant his words in the way they were presented would probably do enough to smooth the waters. Partnered with time she’d forgive him and they’d both move on — perhaps with newfound caution in the way Steve spoke. If this route were to be taken she’d probably nod and her mouth would twist as she gave in, an understanding of apology but not anything more. She’d know what she isn’t but not what she was, and that wasn’t enough to satisfy Steve. 

“You are good. I know that, too. I’ve felt it. You’re kindhearted and altruistic. You’ve been living in my house for a number of days that I could count on my hands and you’ve cemented yourself into my life in a way that feels impossible to undo.”

He paused and tucked his bottom lip under his top row of teeth. His eyes stuck to her face, drawn in at the corners as his sincerity showed sadness.  

“And no, I can’t promise that you won’t get taken back to that place because I’m not capable of that kind of protection, but I say it anyway because if it happened — if you were gone again — I’d loose my fucking mind. I can’t handle the idea of not being able to help you because you’ve done so much for me. And I don’t- just mean with your powers. With saving me on numerous occasions, which I am grateful for, but that’s- that’s not all. You’ve made me feel in ways I didn’t know I was capable. Happiness, alleviation… relief…” He trailed off for a moment then brought his mind back from it’s drift, centering on the verge of a boldness he thought he had in him.  

“Lo-” he cut himself off with a sigh, quick but enough to redirect himself.

“I can’t stand the thought of you gone, or hurt, or alone, or- or fucking exploited, because you’re the only person I’ve met who is truthfully undeserving of pain. You’re special, and not because of your powers, but because of you alone. 

I know you’re not a ‘weapon’, and I know that’s hard for you to believe because it’s what you’ve grown up being told, but take my outside perspective. The only thing about you that scares me is the attachment I feel.”

Steve stepped forward again, and their regained closeness had him looking down at her slightly, an angle she took advantage of as she looked at the floor now. 

“Nine,” he said, a soft-spoken plea for her eye contact. She obliged, cheek still caught between her teeth inside her mouth. He continued, “You are good. You deserve to live a life that lets you feel it, too.”  

She looked back down, a slow break away from his eyes to focus her vision on his loosely hung hands, delicately refrained to his sides where he didn’t dare to reach out from again. Her fingers traced around his wrist before she took his palm. He closed his fingers around her grip, and she looked back up. “I can’t undo you from my life, either,” she whispered.

Steve’s free hand, liberated now, climbed up to her neck. A gentle grasp right above her collar bone slowed her breathing. “Then let’s stick together,” he whispered back.

---

A/N: I told you it was a slowburn. Hehe... anyway... already brainstorming all of the cruel things I can do with this new power I’ve given Nine... I’ll try to play nice. What do you guys think? 

Tag List: @ggclarissa​ @gurl-ly​ @hyp-oh-critical​ @alewifex​ @we-are-band-sexuals​ @cpt-lamby​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @easvtohate​ @used-avocado​ @kwyloz​ @itzpikapie​ @samwise-babeyy @rapsfryingpan​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @mochminnie​ @peterwandaparker​ @ayamecrevan​ @lilyhw1​ @seninjakitey​ @lulurose17​ @write-from-the-heart​ @harringtonlr​ @sledgy14​ @stranger-names​

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

Angst....

The inhuman roar that came out of Natsu the moment the call cut off sent a chill through everyone present in the store. Customers quietly move to a different aisle, and even Ezra, who is as tough as they come, takes a step back from her friend. Always such a lovable goof ball, they’d never seen this level of anger from him before.

“That bitch Touka! I think she just kidnapped Lucy!”

“Wait? What?!” Erza snaps to attention. “How do you know?”

“Lucy just stopped... then I heard the voice— I-I gotta go, I gotta... fuck!” He roars again. “That bitch is gonna pay!”

Erza walks up and puts her hands on his shoulders, staring with a calm yet determined look. “Just go, Natsu. If you think she’s in trouble, go. I’ll finish closing up here. And let us know if you need anything from us.”

“Y-yeah...” he fumbles at his pockets, checking for his keys and belongings. “Thanks, Erza.”

Once Natsu ascertains he has everything, he runs out the door, calling Levy as he hails a passing taxi. The girl answers by the second ring.

“Oh, hey Nat—.”

“Levy, did Lucy make it home?!”

“Whoa, slow down. No, she didn’t. What’s going on? Why are you shouting?”

“It’s Touka! Lucy and I, w-we were talking, and she just cut off, and I heard that bitch’s voice! I think she took her! I think she took Lucy!”

“Oh, my god! Okay— okay, um, lemme call Gajeel. Are you coming here? Do you know where Touka lives?”

Tears are threatening to spill at this point from the frustration and sheer panic he was experiencing. “No! I don’t know where she lives!”

“Okay, okay, d-don’t panic Natsu, we’ll find her. Just get here as soon as you can, and we’ll go from there.”

He has no idea how Levy is staying so calm considering this is her best friend who’s missing, but also relieved that one of them could still think rationally. “O-Okay.”

The entire cab ride over, which took less than 15 minutes, was probably the longest journey ever for the young man. Every outcome and possibility runs through his mind, but when it came to the worst scenarios, he just can’t go there... he didn’t want to believe that Touka would go so far, prays that the woman would somehow realize how wrong she was— yet his heart just knew, and such a sinking devastation threatens to tear him to pieces. Guilt replaces anger that this was all his fault. He could’ve avoided all of it by giving Touka what she wanted even though that meant living a miserable life of his own, but at least Lucy would be safe and not in the clutches of a mad woman.

The poor cab driver tries to take Natsu to the hospital in concern for the young man’s mental state, but he simply grit his teeth and directs the driver to Lucy’s dorm. It took all of his willpower not to scream since it wasn’t the cabbies fault. He wouldn’t understand... kidnappings in Japan aren’t exactly commonplace, and besides, Natsu didn’t want to set off Touka by contacting the authorities outright. Gajeel he trusted because of Levy, but the rest of the force never gave the couple a sense of caring, so why would he trust them?

As he arrives, he finds Levy already downstairs waiting to usher him upstairs to the apartment. The clock is ticking, and time is of the essence.

“Oh, Natsu!” Levy hugs tightly to the man as he practically collapses in her arms. “Don’t panic just yet, you know Lucy is tougher than she looks, and smart. We’ll find her in time.”

But his heart is simply too heavy with burden. “I should have listened,” he sobs into her shoulder. “I should have realized just how dangerous Touka is, but I was selfish and didn’t wanna give Lucy up...”

“Shhh, shhh, Natsu this is not your fault. Lucy knew the danger too and she still chose you.” Levy pushes his head up and smashes his face between her palms. “Natsu look at me. This is not your fault. Touka is sick, you have nothing to do with that. Now get it together! You can fall apart after we get Lucy back safely!”

Natsu’s eyes flare wide at the sudden outburst, but she’s right. “Sorry...” he stands up straight and wipes the tears off his face. “You’re right. I need to be strong for her.”

“Good.” She nods and takes him to the apartment, filling him in along the way. “Gajeel is running the address they have on file for her right now.”

“I forgot about that. The cops must have her in the system from the arrest.”

Inside the apartment, they sit down on the couch and wait for Gajeel to call back. Levy makes Natsu some tea to try and calm his nerves, but nothing is working. How could it? His girlfriend was out there somewhere with a woman who’s shown no evidence of stopping, just an escalation of behaviors. He hangs his and closes his eyes, praying to gods he’s never prayed to before to please, don’t let anything happen to Lucy. Take him instead, but not her. Why couldn’t Touka have come after him instead? His mind is so fuzzy like the static noise from an old television set. The white noise of too much information and emotions mixing, drowning out any logic and rational thought.

The sound of Levy’s phone ringing causes him to flinch. He turns his head as she answers, listening to her side of the conversation.

“Oh, okay. Are you sure? So, it’s wrong? Parent’s address... do you think they’ll talk? What about employer? True, morning... we can’t wait till morning! No... I know...”

By the time Levy said, ‘parent’s address,’ Natsu knew they’ve hit a dead end. His heart sinks, and all the focus he’d redirected towards hope is dashed like a boat against a rocky shore. Tokyo is just too big of a city to search without a starting point and they knew nothing about Touka to give them one. He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through the woman’s Instagram photos, looking for any clues to her whereabouts. There were tons of pictures on her blog, mostly of her in public spaces— that look suspiciously like places he and Lucy frequents. “Ugh!” All this time he should’ve been keeping an eye on her blog! His anger returns with a vengeance the longer he scrolls. To anyone else, these photos look non-descript, but for him it’s plain as day, evidence of the woman stalking them! The bitch was chronicling her movements in plain view! “Stupid!” Natsu growls at himself. Wait a minute, he zeroes into the latest upload. “Fucking bitch!”

“What, what?!” Levy pauses the conversation with her boyfriend to question the outburst.

“Look at this!” He shows her the photo. It was a long distance shot of Lucy walking from behind, and he can see that the surrounding area is the same route she takes to her dorm. “It was posted tonight, right before my call to Lucy was cut off!”

“Oh my god...” Levy breathes out in utter disbelief. “She really is insane.”

And if that isn’t bad enough, the tagline left no doubt as to what Touka is planning. The phone slips from Natsu’s hand as all the blood drains from his face.

‘If I can’t have you, neither will she...’

[tomthesoftie]

I love Mob! Tom too much. and I would like to see Reader and Tom as a couple but Tom doesn't know anything about Reader's past because she has lost her memory. and as they are a couple, Reader is Tom's weak point so his enemies try to capture her but she has reflexes to defend herself from before she loses her memory because she was a contract killer, if that's ok with you

at peace

a/n: this was hella darker than i planned, as well as longer... so i didn’t make this fluffy at all, it’s just straight up angst, heavy angst,,, also i wrote this at like 2-4 am so sorry if it gets kind of confusing, i’ll reread it tomorrow... enjoy xx

warnings: heavy angst, wiped memory, major character death, sacrifice

masterlist                     prompt list

You walked into the dark room, senses heightened. A pulsing ringed in your ears as you looked around.

“Hello?” You said, hand gripping on your gun. The sound of someone running didn’t go by you. You snapped your head in the direction it came from. “Who’s there?” Your gun was out of its holster, pointing into the darkness. “Show yourself.”

A figure tried to grab you but you easily dodged their attempt. You punched your target in the gut, causing them to keel over. In their vulnerability, you grabbed their arm and twisted it behind their back. They groaned in pain as you dug your gun into their temple.

“Who do you work for? What was your plan?” You asked, adding more pressure on the gun with each question.

The man grunted and struggled in your grip. He didn’t reply, only kept yelping and mumbling “bitch” or “motherfucker.”

“Answer me!”

“This is our plan,” a deep voice roared behind you.

Then, everything went black.

You shot up in the bed, breath heaving. Sweat was dripping down your forehead. You looked around, but you were still in Tom’s room, snuggled in the blankets of his bed. The space beside you was empty but a dent lingered on the mattress where Tom slept. He had already gone to his office, like always.

What was that dream you just had? Why was it so familiar? And why did it feel so real?

You shrugged off the dream, knowing it couldn’t’ve been real. You haven’t the skill to fight that you had whilst attacking the stranger. You assumed it came from dating Tom and watching action movies. 

You walked out of the mobster’s mansion, into the garden in the backyard. You walked through the vibrant flowers, feeding them with freshwater you’d gotten from the kitchen. Birds chirped happily around you, singing you a welcoming morning song. They’d practically became your friends. You felt like Cinderella, excluding all the labor and step family, whenever you came to the garden. 

You’ve had nothing to do since Tom restricted you from leaving the property. He’d told you someone was coming for you, saying that you were his biggest weakness. He even told you to cut off all communications with friends and family, keeping them off the radar. You couldn’t refuse, besides, you wouldn’t try to anyways.

You skipped and twirled on the dirt trail, humming a quiet tune. You basked in the sunlight and the butterflies fluttered around you. You were nearing the mansion once more. The butterflies and birds had gone away, leaving you in solitude. 

There was silence. It was a familiar silence. Your senses heightened. You could feel that something was off. A deep voice softly spoke to another from behind you. You knew that voice from somewhere, you’ve heard it before. You gripped your metal watering can. Something about your grip felt routine.

You heard the grass rustle and you moved ahead. You knew that if you were closer to the house, you’d be able to get help faster.

Help. Where did all the mobster’s men go? You were the only one outside. There was definitely something wrong.

You felt the warmth a someone’s hand hovering over your shoulder. You gripped it, kicking them in the gut. You turned to see a tall man. Even bent over, he was still taller than you. A wave of fear washed over you, telling you to run but your body moved on its own. You continued to punch the man on the side of his head, hitting a specific point to knock him out. The sound of his head slamming onto the ground didn’t faze you as you prepared to attack the larger, scruffier looking man.

“A failure. Even with your memory wiped he can’t beat you,” the familiar voice said, appearing from the shadows.

The ringing of a gunshot filled your ears. You didn’t flinch or wince. You were still. Something took over you. Memories started flooding back into your mind, one by one. There were images of life before your memory had been taken. Everything fit together perfectly now. You hadn’t met Tom in a coffee shop. He saved you. He saved you from this man standing ahead of you now.

“What do you want from me?” You growled.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you. More precisely, I want to kill you,” he said, pointing the gun at you.

“Was I hired to kill someone that you knew?”

“No, buttercup. You are precious. At least Mr. Tommy thinks you are,” he grinned at you sickly.

“But you wiped my memory before I even knew him,” you stated.

“I didn’t, but he did.”

“What?” You were confused. How did Tom know you before he saved you?

“He watched you everyday for every hour. He found your work inspiring and motivating. Let’s just say he fancied you from the very beginning.”

Without a word, you dashed towards the man, attacking him at every angle. He was able to predict every move and was left completely unharmed when you pulled away.

“Don’t just stand there! Fight back,” you shouted, furious.

He raised his gun, pointing it straight at you. This wasn’t anything new for you. You were trained for these situations.

Building up speed, you ran towards him, swerving so that he couldn’t shoot you. You jumped, climbing to his neck. Your legs wrapped around his neck and elbow knocked his head. He visibly loosened his grip on the gun, and you pounced at the opportunity. 

You stood ahead of the man, safety off, finger ready to pull the trigger.

“I will do it,” you said, a fire burning in your eyes. “You took my memory, my passion away from me. I’m going to avenge myself,” you seethed. He fidgeted, “Hands where I can see them.” His hands shot right up. “I could kill you right now; take back what everything I’ve missed. This can be practice before I go back to the field.”

“Darling?” Your boyfriend’s voice penetrated your glowing red ears. 

You didn’t reply. You were radiating with anger and hatred. You felt powerful, though. The fate of this man’s life was in your hands.

“Y/N/N,” Tom placed a hand on your shoulder, “I can do this.”

You shrugged off his hand, only seeing red. Your breathes were deeper, heaving your chest up and down. Your teeth grinding, you were itching to pull the trigger.

“You deserve to suffer,” you cackled.

The man’s expression was practically begging for you to let him go or make his death fast and painless. 

“Y/N,” Tom spoke up again.

“No! He’s mine to get rid of,” you snapped.

“We need to interrogate him. He’ll give us the answers we need,” the mobster tried.

“What questions? All of them are answered. Aren’t they, Tom?” Your gaze switched to the brunette. “Or are you hiding something from me? Something important?”

The mobster’s men took the burly man captive, leaving you and Tom to sort out your business.

“What d’you mean hiding something from you? I told you the truth about everything.”

“I don’t remember meeting you at a coffee shop,” you glared at him.

“What? Of course we did. How else would I’ve met you? Your memory can’t be trusted, darling. You were wiped, remember?” A stern look rested on his face.

“Oh, how could I forget? But not to worry, it’s back now,” you sneered, “You stalked me?”

“Stalked isn’t the word I’d use, more so observed and protected,” he stated.

You laughed darkly, “I don’t need protecting. I’m a contracted killer, Tom. Get that in your head. Besides, you did a shit job of protecting me, or maybe this was your plan all along. You wanted to take me as your own, so you wiped my memory and told me we were in love.”

“I would never do that, darling. That’s completely absurd,” his brows furrowed, “now please, let’s go back home. We need to pay even closer attention to any intruders.”

You pointed the gun at him, “No. I don’t need your protection. Not anymore, at least.”

“I’d put that down if I were you,” he finally realized you weren’t the same old you anymore; he’d have to put up a fight no matter what.

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me,” you said innocently. You snorted, “Doubt it.”

“I will do it,” he said darkly, the love in his eyes gone.

“Who goes first?” You asked childishly. Before he could reply, you pipped, “Oh, I’ll do it.”

The loud banging of a gunshot rang louder than normal. Time seemed to slow. The birds chirped in a sad tune while the butterflies lined on the branches of your favorite tree. You smiled at them. They replied by gently flapping their wings. You reveled in the sense of peace. You laughed and laughed, remembering your shot, a feeling of victory coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, love!” Tom rushed to your side, clutching your body before it hit the ground. “You’ve gotta stay with me. Fuck, there’s too much blood.”

You smiled lazily at the boy, dropping the gun to the ground. You felt the blood warming your body. Your vision became hazier and everything around you seemed so serene.

“It’s alright, Tommy, no more weaknesses now,” you managed to whisper.

You were numb with love. Everything good in your life rushed into your mind. You felt lighter. Finally, you were freed from your everlasting torture. No one to kill, to run from, to weaken. The birds chirped their welcoming morning song, leading you into the whiteness. You silently thank them, eyes starting to flutter shut.

“I-I lo-love yo--”

Warm. Cold. Peace. Anger. Content. Sad. Two different worlds, two different emotional states. Maybe sacrifice is for the better. 

[be-the-spark-flyboy]

One Step Forward Two Steps Back

Call It What You Want (7/?)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Med student!Poe x reader

A/N: Poe needs to calm down in this one smh that gif is so fitting

Chapter Summary: Poe tries to talk to you, but you make his life infinitely more difficult since you’re still under the impression that he was still with his girlfriend

Warnings: swearing, dash of angst, everyone being dumb asses

Word count: 2.4k

You don’t remember the walk back to your place, your mind too occupied with the thoughts of what had just happened with Poe fucking Dameron. You kissed him. More like, he kissed you first but you still went with it, way too eagerly, head empty of any rational thoughts. He has a girlfriend. How could you forget that, if even for a moment? How could he forget that? 

You used to be sure Poe wasn’t the type of person who would cheat on someone, but now, not so much. And the worst part? You enjoyed kissing him, so goddamn much. You should’ve pushed him away, should’ve stopped him before he kissed you. How could you be so reckless? 

Before you know it, you’re walking up to your front door, too busy mentally kicking yourself, to notice the cardboard boxes lying around the floor. Your foot catches on one and you almost go tumbling down, but an arm shoots out to steady you before you could fall. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” A woman around your own age exclaims, her hand still firmly clamped on your arm as you wobble in surprise. She chuckles awkwardly, an easy smile settling on her face as she sticks a hand out to you. “I’m Rose Tico. I just moved in next door,” She tells you. Oh, your new neighbor. She seems nice, you think. You shake her hand, introducing yourself.

“You need any help moving in?” You offer, though you don’t really feel like putting yourself in a social situation. Thankfully, Rose declines. After a quick exchange of numbers, you rush into your home, hoping Jessika was already at home. You find her sitting cross-legged on the counter, happily munching on a muffin from your stress baking batch. 

“Poe kissed me,” The words are out of your mouth before you could even think about how you were going to reveal the news, and the bite of muffin Jessika takes almost goes flying out of her mouth.

“WHAT?” She screeches, scampering down from the counter, crossing the room in record time before shaking you by the shoulders. “Woman! What? Is my ship finally sailing?”

“What? No!” You break away from her grip, grimacing. “He has a girlfriend, Jessika!” She makes a gagging sound at your protestations.

“But she is a bitch and everyone hates her,” Jessika states like its the most obvious thing in the world. You still have absolutely no idea what made everyone hate her so much. If anyone knew about it, you’re pretty sure that it would be Jessika. But would asking her about it mean that you care? That you’re admitting your feelings?

“Yeah well, that not the point. Kissing someone else is basically cheating, isn’t it?” You swing back to the problem at hand. What happens in their relationship isn’t any of your business, you decide.

“Well, yeah.” She shrugs. “Maybe you should talk to him about this. He might have an explanation for things, ya know? Poe just doesn’t seem like the type to be so careless about someone’s feelings,”

“Huh, since when are you an expert on Poe?” You ask her. It surprised you how Jessika could be so intuitive and heartfelt at times, so at odds with her usual carefree nature.

“I am an expert on everyone, honey,” she says, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulders.

“Yeah, whatever,” You push past her, still not very convinced. “Oh, did you meet our new neighbor?”

“Rose?” She asks, going back to her muffin. “Yeah, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“Not an expert on Rose?” You laughed.

“Not yet,” she tells you.

---

“Just ask her, man!” Finn exclaims, sitting opposite Poe in a crowded coffee shop as his best friend nervously shuffles his phone from one hand to the other.

“Urgh, how do I even phrase it? Isn’t it weird if I just ask her out of the blue?” Poe asks.

“You’re thinking too much,” Finn crosses his arm, glaring at him. “Since when are you so afraid to talk to a girl?” 

Finn hates seeing Poe like this, a complete mess and totally out of his element. He had been that way since you left in the hurry the previous day. And in the past almost 24 hours Finn has been the one to put up with all his whining. As much as Finn pities Poe, he also wants to strangle him just to get some peace and quiet.

“Since I fucked up and kissed her and now she probably thinks I’m an asshole who cheats on his girlfriend!” Poe whines.

“Dameron you’re such a fucking drama queen. Just text her!” Poe reluctantly punches in a few words before flipping his phone around for Finn to see. 

“Is this okay? Too short? Too formal?”

“No its fine,” Finn reassures him. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

“What if I just- Hey! What the hell, Finn?” Poe shoots Finn a look of betrayal as the other man pressed send on the text before he could snatch back his phone.

“See! It’s done. Nothing to worry about,”

“Easy for you to say,” Poe mutters indignantly.

---

Your phone buzzes in your pocket in the quiet corner of the library. You were looking for reference books for your latest project from hell which was sucking your soul. You pull your phone out of your pocket, welcoming the distraction.

Poe: Hey, it’s Poe. Are you free around 1 later? Do you want to join me for lunch? :)

Or not. Oh shit. You know Jessika told you to just talk to Poe. Communication is the best way to sort things out, but it’s always easier said than done isn’t it?

Does he want to talk about the events of the previous day? Is he going to tell you that he likes you and that was why he kissed you? But what if he apologizes for it and tells you that it was a mistake instead? You can’t decide which one would be worse.

You don’t want to have lunch with him. Just the thought of seeing him again makes your chest constrict in panic. But you can’t just leave him hanging, you have to reply. And you find yourself thinking for the millionth time, if only I hadn’t gotten so close to him.

Your fingers were dancing above the keypad, contemplating what excuse to give as another notification pops up on the top of your screen. And then another.

Ben: Bro, I need your help.

Ben: Pleeeeaaaassseee I’ll buy you lunch

You spend years getting lunch all alone most of the time and suddenly two boys are fighting for your attention on the same goddamn day. Fun.

It really isn’t a difficult decision to make. Your friend needs your help, so you gotta put that above some casual lunch right? Yeah, totally, you decide. It isn’t because you want to avoid Poe, not at all. You just have somewhere else to be.

And so you take the cowards way out.

You: Okay, where do I meet you?

Ben: Wow that was fast did I speak too soon about lunch?

You: NOPE you’re still buying

—-

“She hasn’t replied. Why hasn't she replied Finn?!” Poe’s fidgeting puts Finn on edge as he watches him pick up the phone and check the notifications, place it down, then pick it up to check the notification, again and again. 

“Because you just texted her, Poe. Maybe she’s busy,” Finn takes a sip of his coffee, Poe’s cup already drained. Finn considers buying him another cup of coffee just to give him something else to do. But knowing his friend, he probably already had at least two this morning. He does not need more caffeine. 

His phone buzzes again and Poe sweeps it up. “It’s not her...” he groans, looking at the screen with barely veiled disappointment.

“Okay, gimme that,” Finn snatches the device from his hand as Poe throws himself back into his seat, pouting like a five-year-old with his toys taken away. “You need patience dude, a lot of it,” Finn shakes his head at him.

Usually, Poe had plenty of patience. But not when it came to you apparently. He doesn’t regret kissing you at all, but maybe he moved too fast? He definitely should have talked to you first, or maybe asked you out first instead of just kissing you. Or told you that he broke up with Sarah. Yep that one, that’s the first thing he should’ve done.

The phone pings again and Poe almost flings himself over the table trying to snatch it from his friend’s hand. “Christ Poe, calm down! God!” Poe pays no mind, but his face falls the second he unlocks his phone. 

“She said she can’t make it,” Poe deflates. “She’s meeting up with someone else for lunch. Finn, she’s avoiding me, right? She doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. How am I supposed to explain anything to her like this?” Poe goes on rambling for- Finn has lost count of the number of times he has heard it. 

“You got anything lessons later?” Poe shakes his head, already starting to sulk in his seat again.

“Let’s go to that diner off-campus you like so much,” Finn suggests. That’ll cheer him up.

---

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You curse, catching your cup before it tipped all the way spilling some of its contents on yourself in the process. A few heads turn your way in the diner but you pay no mind to it. 

“That’s the second time I’m watching you spill something on yourself,” Ben clucks handing you tissues yet again.

“Shut up, Solo,” You snap at him, but take the tissues from him anyways, trying to blot the dampness from your sweatshirt.

“No no, I was right. You do need a nanny following you around cleaning up after you,” he sounds so monotonous but you just know he’s laughing at you.

“Oh, look at me I’m Ben Solo, I’m a med student and I need help to write a fucking essay!” You mock him in retaliation.

“Okay smartass, what about you help me instead of destroying more tables,” you flip him off as he pulls his laptop out of his bag and moves both your cups out of your reach.

“You’re mean, you know that?” You admonish him and not a second after the last word leaves your mouth, a heavy fabric hits you in the face.

You almost roll it back up and fling it back at him before he says, “Put it on, you’re going to be cold,” He had a point. Your half drenched sweatshirt wasn’t going to dry anytime soon. And the huge blot of brown didn’t exactly look great on your light grey sweatshirt.

“Thanks. You’re that mean,” you pronounce before draping it over your shoulders. 

---

“Rey could help,” Finn suggests, rubbing his hands together in efforts to gain some warmth in the cold weather.

“She definitely will not help, I ate the last cookie,” Poe answers dejectedly scuffing the heel of his boot on the sidewalk, hands buried deep inside his pocket as he drags his feet beside Finn.

“I’ll ask her for you,” Finn offers. There was only so much whining a man can take, at least this way he will be helping Poe, and himself. Two birds, one stone.

Poe pushes open the door to the diner, the sounds and the smell immediately lifting his rotten mood. The diner is relatively small, but the checkered tiles and the smell of greasy burgers never fail to make him smile. 

The diner is crowded as usual, filled with the sound of loud conversations and cutlery clinking together. Poe hadn’t taken two steps in when his heart plunges straight into his stomach.

He sees you there, looking gorgeous as ever, laughing with your friend. A jacket, clearly not yours, around your shoulders as the two of you sat squeezed into the same side of the booth. You pay no mind to anything else, he’s too far for you to notice him there.

So that’s why you ran away after kissing him. Poe has this sinking feeling that he has been reading the situation all wrong. You never did like him. It was Ben all along. And last night the kiss must have been a heat of the moment thing, not because you actually liked him. That was why you have been avoiding him since. Because you feel guilty. 

It all makes sense now. He never should’ve kissed you.

Finn walks right into Poe, frozen in place. “The hell, man?” He slaps him on the shoulder. The actions seem to startle Poe out of his trance. He turns on his heel and storms off, not bothering to wait for Finn to catch up with him.

---

“She ditched me for Ben Solo,” Poe was positively fuming. “For Ben fucking Solo. Of all people Finn! Ben Solo,” he exclaims. Rey sits cross-legged on the sofa beside Finn, watching her friend slowly lose his mind. Clearly, the problem is Ben Solo related. Again. She has no idea what happened this time, but something tells her, now is not the best time to ask Poe about it. She could just ask Finn later.

“Calm down you’re gonna summon him or something,” Finn says looking for lunch to order, watching Poe pace. Clearly, lunch was the last thing on his mind, but Finn was hungry.

“Calm down? Ben Solo, Finn!” Poe exclaims.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Finn mutters under his breath.

“I need to take a walk. Come on Beebs,” The corgi happily jumps up from its perch on the sofa at the sound of the keys jiggling, following Poe hot on his heels.

“Oh my god, he’s gone crazy,” Finn mutters again, watching Poe walk out, almost slamming the door behind him.

“What was it this time?” Rey asks and Finn sighs heavily before explaining in great detail the events of the day.

“It could be a misunderstanding and maybe they are just friends. But given what happened last time, I don’t really blame Poe for assuming otherwise. Rey, you gotta talk to her. It already a big mess, we need to help,” He concludes, sprawled across the couch, his head resting on Rey’s lap as she thoughtfully munched on an apple.

“Okay, I’ll help him this time,” she nods slowly. “But I still don’t forgive him for eating the last cookie. It was supposed to be mine,” She huffs.

---

The Dameron taglist (open): @writefightandflightclub​ @arkofblake​ @yougottakeeponkeepinon​ @multifandomlife22​ @skymerons​ @smol-peter-parker​ @rae-rae-patcha​ @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ @spider-starry​ @hkmultifandom​ @cloud-leader​ @elmoakepoke​ @staringmoony​ @valhallavalkyrie9​ @the-cry-of-youth​ @liadamerondjarin​ @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​ @takemepedropascal​ @xremember-me-notx​

[imissjoongsmullet]

The Morning After The Fact

Pairing: Xiaojun x reader

Genre: fluff (tiiiiny bit of angst)

Summary: Part 2 of An Evening With The Boys.

After a fun evening with your little brother (Yang Yang) and his friends, you can’t stop thinking about certain things that happened between you and Xiaojun. You plan to ignore them but the next morning proves to make that a very difficult to do. 

Warnings: more chaotic WayV, awkward conversations, cuteness

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: thank you for the request @idontknowapil​  I really like this whole concept, it makes me feel all warm and fluffy inside. I hope it can be the same for people who read it. Much love!!

►

It was 3 am and you had yet to fall asleep. You’d spent the last couple of hours turning around in your sheets, helplessly trying to clear your head but it all seemed in vain under the current circumstances. After you’d turned down your lights, you’d laid in darkness, listening to the muffled voices coming from your brother’s room. It was astounding how him and his friends just did not seem to need sleep. You could hear Lucas’ monstrous cackles, Ten’s screeches and a lot of mysterious thumping noises. There was no sign of Xiaojun at all, which made you wonder whether he was still awake. He might be even more distracted by it all than you were.

With your hand beneath the bed sheet, you tried to relive the feel of his hand on yours from just a few moments ago. You’d barely been able to concentrate on the movie because of it. You’d been shoulder to shoulder with him under a nice, fluffy blanket, which had been reason enough for your cheeks to turn strawberry pink. When he’d reached for your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours, you’d felt chills all over your body. It had been such a gentle touch, so sweet, and in the moment it had overwhelmed you completely. Now, you were wondering what it had meant.

He’d felt so warm against your skin, almost too much so, but now you just felt cold. Would he ever do it again? Or was he already regretting his actions. He was your little brother’s friend, after all.

What would he want with you?

Your alarm woke you up at 7:30, as always. You enjoyed being the first person awake in the house (not a hard thing to do considering Yang usually didn’t leave his self-proclaimed ‘man cave’ ‘till the early afternoon). Not wanting to disturb the boys, you put in your earphones, put on a nice, soft morning playlist, and made your way down the stairs. You figured you could make your favorite breakfast and enjoy the piece and quiet in the house while it lasted.

The remnants from last night were still sprawled all across the living room. Playing cards, half-empty chips bags, stray video game controllers,… You shook your head, figuring you’d boss your idiot brother into cleaning it up later. First, breakfast.

Maybe it was the soft piano playing in your ears but you didn’t see it coming at all. Turning the corner into the morning-lit, white-tiled kitchen, was Xiaojun, putting a bunch of things out onto the counter.

You both jumped at the sight of one another. A very unflattering squeal escaped your lips as you instinctively wrapped your hands around yourself. You were still in your embarrassingly childish pajamas: a Hello Kitty top and shorts combo you’d never wanted to throw away for sentimental reasons. He, on the other hand, was handsome as always, in soft, white and gray striped pajamas that looked like they were brand new. His hair was messy but charmingly so, while yours probably looked more like a rat lived in it. He was staring at you with big, honey-brown eyes, lips parted, as if he was about to say something.

But you weren’t ready to hear his judgment. You yanked out your earphones and dashed to one of the kitchen chairs to wrap yourself in the long, white cardigan that hung over it, covering yourself up.

“Good morning,” he started, a little smile tugging at his lips.

You nodded at him, realizing at once how silly of a reaction that was but also unable to get any words out to save yourself. Looking at him now, all sleepy-faced and gorgeous, your mind flitted to last night, to the way he’d looked at you before parting ways in the hallway. There had been something in his eyes then; he’d wanted to say something, you were sure of it. Was it still there? Or were you simply over-thinking things?

“Sleep well?” he asked, continuing to grab things from the cupboards.

“Yeah,” you managed at last, forcing your focus to the present moment, “um, what are you doing?”

His smile grew wider; the smile of a kid getting caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “I’m making breakfast,” he said, shrugging, “I hope that’s okay. Yang usually lets us grab whatever we want.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” you were quick to answer this time, “you just startled me, is all.”

His eyes twinkled at yours for a moment before they shot down to the ingredients before him.

“Would you like some too?” he asked. He looked back up at you, a glimmer of timidness showing through his expression now, “pancakes are your favorite, right?”

You couldn’t stop a grin from overtaking your entire face. Embarrassed, you opened to fridge door to shield yourself from his gaze.

“How do you even know that?” you asked, pretending to grab a drink.

“It’s not my first sleepover at this house,” you heard him chuckle, “I’ve watched you eat pancakes for breakfast for years.”

Even in the icy cold of the fridge, his words managed to heat you up. You felt strangely exposed by his statement. I mean, it wasn’t as if he’d actually been observing you all these years. You did eat pancakes for breakfast at a ridiculous frequency, especially on your days off, which was often when Yang Yang’s friends would be over. It wasn’t strange for him to notice, you supposed.

You randomly grabbed for the apple juice and poured the both of you a glass, reminding yourself every second that none of this probably meant anything. He hadn’t mentioned anything about last night. He’d probably already forgotten about the whole thing. It was fine.

“Where do you keep the flour?” his voice called so near to your ear that you jumped again. He’d come up right behind you.

You twisted around, only to regret it immediately. He looked so heavenly in the morning light, looking down at you like he had no idea what he was doing to you.

“It’s in the back, hold on,” you said, scurrying off into the pantry.

You were starting to get frustrated with yourself. You weren’t like this. Sure, you’d had certain “feelings” when it came to Xiaojun, but you’d always managed to keep them under control pretty well. You’d been around him for many years. You’d pretty much gotten used to his presence and the idea that things would never lead anywhere with him.

But now, you couldn’t even look at him without flushing like a child; it was ridiculous. Things had happened last night, there was no denying that, but you didn’t want to fool yourself into thinking that had to mean anything. It might have been a spur of the moment thing for him, inspired by the film. Guys did unexplainable things more often... 

But, a timid, little voice in the back of your head came in, what about that look he gave you during poker? Or right before going to bed? There was something-

Those all led to nothing, your reason shot back monotonously, ergo, he didn’t mean for it to lead anywhere.

“Should I use butter or oil? What do you think?” Xiaojun’s voice called from the kitchen, and then, not much later, “also, how do you separate an egg?”

A tiny smile crept up onto your face. You snatched the flour from the shelf before you and went back out, locking your worries somewhere you wouldn’t be able to hear them for the time being.

“Why don’t we make the pancakes together?”

He frowned at the eggs in his hands and nodded.

It was a little surprising how clumsy he was in the kitchen. Xiaojun had always seemed like such a clean, put together kind of guy, so watching him fish eggshells out of a bowl as if his life depended on it (and failing) was very amusing. You showed him all the steps you knew by heart, and he followed gladly, keeping the full of his attention on you.

It didn’t make you as nervous anymore. Little by little, you eased into his presence, temporarily ignoring unhealthy thoughts and letting yourself enjoy the moment.

“You’ve got to be gentle with the stirring,” you said, standing next to him to oversee his actions, “or they won’t be fluffy.”

“I am gentle,” he chuckled, taking a quick look at you, “see.” He folded the wooden spoon through the batter ever-so-slowly. His sleeves rolled up, you found yourself staring at his tensed forearms as he worked. The idea of being wrapped up in them did cross your mind, but you forced yourself not to dwell on it.

“How’s this,” he asked, stepping aside to show you his process.

You took the bowl and ran the spoon through it, feeling the smooth consistency. Then you dipped in your ring finger and tried some.

“What are you doing?” he said, apprehension all over his voice.

“I’m tasting it,” you said simply, turning to him, “how else would you know if they’ll be any good?”

He somehow managed to look both amused and concerned at the same time.

“I heard raw batter is bad for you.”

“You have a point,” you laughed, “but it tastes so good.” You dipped a clean finger into the batter and held it up to him. “Try it,” you said, and just as the words dove off your lips, plummeting the conversation into dangerous territory, did you realize what you’d just suggested. You were about to pull back your finger but Xiaojun had already grabbed hold of your hand.

Eyes like tennis balls, you stared as he started bringing your finger towards his lips. Everything inside you was short-circuiting: the cogs in your body jamming, sparks flying all around, fog filling up your brain.

“No,” you gasped out suddenly, yanking back your hand at the same time he’d decided to let go. Your hand recoiled into your own face, your battered finger hitting you sharp in the eyeball.

“Are you alright?” you heard him sputter, as his two hands grabbed your shoulders. Your eyes were closed shut in shock and pain but you nodded anyways.

“Hold on,” he said and he started leading you towards what you could only imagine was the sink. To add to your shock, he positioned himself flush behind you so as to guide your hands towards the stream of the faucet.

“I’m fine!” you muttered, heart like a ticking time bomb. Once he’d removed himself from your backside, allowing your body to calm down, you wiped your eyes and tentatively opened them.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, turning back around to face him.

He leaned in, examining your face, asking, “You sure?”

You couldn’t stand all this closeness. Somehow his eyes were the worst of it.

“Stop looking at me,” you said in a near whisper, positive your cheeks resembled actual tomatoes by this point.

“Wait,” he answered, reaching out to softly wipe the space under your eye, “you just had a little bit,” he grinned, showing you the batter on his thumb before putting it past his lips and licking it clean.

That was it: the last of your sanity flying out the window. You turned away from him, mortified.

You heard him move before you felt it: his hand on yours. It sent the hairs on your arms up, all the way to your neck.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked in a quiet murmur, squeezing your hand gently.

You looked into his eyes and swore your could see it again; that same thing you’d noticed in his eyes the previous night, the thing that made you wonder whether maybe…

“I-” you started, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to ever finish the sentence. You wished he would just say something instead. But he was still staring at you with those big eyes of his, sunlit brown gazing from beneath long eyelashes, searching you.

“Sorry,” he said at last. The words punctured the silence like a needle to a balloon. They seemed to echo in your head, adding to the confusion already dominating your thoughts. Sorry for what?! You wanted to yell but he was still holding onto your hand and standing so close and there was just nothing you could do about it and you thought you might explode when suddenly-

“Something smells good!” a voice like a trumpet called from the living room.

Xiaojun released you and you both turned around to find Lucas, Ten and Yang Yang sauntering into the kitchen with sleepy faces and messy hair.

“Pancakes!” Ten gasped.

“Sweet!” Lucas nodded.

“Did I hear pancakes?!” Hendery’s voice came in from far away, followed by heavy thumping.

Yang Yang shot you and Xiao a strange, up-and-down glare before shaking his head in amusement. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know,” he exhaled, turning around and walking off.

Things got a bit easier from then on because at least you weren’t alone. Xiaojun was busy trying to create the perfectly shaped pancake, while Ten and Lucas provided enough of a distraction for you not to worry about what had just happened between the two of you. The air soon filled with the sweet aroma of baked goods, feeding your appetite. You offered Xiaojun your help but he seemed to have gotten really into it, declining and promising you nothing short of perfection once he was finished.

So you allowed yourself to watch him. It was a lot less scary now that he had his back turned to you. The sunlight was pouring heavily into the room, making him look like some sort of breakfast-making God.

“Like what you’re seeing?” a sly voice whispered in your ear.

You slapped Ten on the shoulder, hissing a desperate shut up.

Ten smirked in response, “What,” he said, poking you in the side, “you know I’m right.”

It was another five-or-so minutes before the pancakes were done and you could all move around the breakfast table together. They were delightfully tasty and surprisingly soft. Everyone had several helpings and, aside from things nearly escalating into a food fight when Lucas started playing with the chocolate sauce, it was truly one of the nicest breakfasts you’d had in a while.

“Well, I guess we’ll finally get out of your hair then,” Hendery yawned as he stretched his arms wide above his head, “Lovely pancakes, by the way, man.” He clapped Xiaojun on the shoulder and got up.  

The others followed suit, picking up their plates and disappearing into the kitchen. You supposed they had some manners after all. You watched as Xiaojun returned to clear off the rest of the table.

“Oh that’s okay,” you said, getting up as well, “I’ll clean up. You can go grab your things with the others.”  

You thought that’d be for the best. Maybe, if you were fast enough, you could finish cleaning and sneak into your room before the boys left. That way you could at least avoid any more awkward moments. You shoved the dirty dishes and bowls into the sink, hurriedly returned ingredients to their rightful place and haphazardly wiped the table and counters. Passable, you judged your work, before sprinting up the stairs and into the narrow hallway, only to run headfirst into someone’s chest.

“Woah!” he exclaimed and you knew you’d fucked up once again.

“Sorry,” you muttered, not even looking up. You swerved past him and the other boys, making your way to your room. You were too caught up in your own thoughts to hear Xiaojun tell the others to go on ahead of him cause he’d forgotten something. Only when he jogged over to you with a breathy “wait,” did you realize. Your turned to him, keeping your hand on your doorknob.

“I, um,” he started, and for the first time, you noticed a slight unsteadiness in his voice. He was looking down at the ground, thinking. “I think I haven’t been handling this so well,” he sighed out at last, “I’m not that good at this.”

This was it, you groaned inwardly, the moment he’d tell you yesterday was a mistake and to please leave him alone. You were about ready to tell him to save the speech because you got it. The whole thing was stupid and you acting like a baby about it was making things awkward for everyone.

Electricity jolted up your arm when his hand brushed yours, tentatively for a few seconds, but then wrapping it around yours firmly, squeezing. Looking from your entangled hands, up into his kind eyes, you realized you’d forgotten, in all your anxiousness, that Xiaojun was naturally quite a shy person as well, and that him holding your hand could not be as easy for him as you’d thought it may have been.

But he didn’t stop there. His free hand came up and brushed the hair from your face, locking lightly behind your ear. Then he smiled and you felt your heart start to race. He was so close and looking at you with a face that bore such sincerity, you couldn’t understand why you’d doubted him before. He leaned in and you were far from ready.

When his lips touched yours your mind went blank for the first time in forever. He kissed you softly, cupping your face and caressing your hand with his thumb. It was gentle and soothing and more than you’d ever dared to hope for. You felt so light. You found the urge to move closer; to fall into his warm chest where you belonged but something still held you back.

Xiaojun broke the kiss but kept his face close, resting his forehead on yours and smiling. Now you weren’t the only one blushing.

“I’m not good with words,” he murmured.

You smiled up at him. “You’ve said plenty just now.”

He returned the smile and squeezed your hand again; a gesture you were growing very fond of very quickly.

“Sneaky, I like it,” a voice said in a tone that could only come from one person.

“Ten,” you gasped, looking behind Xiaojun to find him at the top of the stairs, a single eyebrow cocked in triumph.

He snickered, “listen, I’m very happy you two finally decided to cut the crap and make out already but Yang Yang is this close to coming up here to ask what’s keeping you so long and I’m sure you both don’t wanna find out what will happen when he finds out so you better get your ass down the stairs right now lover boy.”

You both stared at the smug boy for a moment, before Xiaojun finally broke the daze. “Right,” he said, nodding. He looked to you, then to his friend and back to you.

“Fine!” Ten sighed with the dramatic wave of a hand, “Have your moment. Just make sure you’re down in five seconds or I might not be able to keep my mouth shut.” And with that, he descended the stairs.

Xiaojun turned to you again, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Maybe we should get coffee sometime?”

You nodded pressing your lips together tight in an attempt to control your glee.

He nodded to and came in once more, pecking you sweetly on the nose.

“Okay,” he said, and finally, he walked off towards the stairs, but keeping his eyes on you. Only upon reaching the stairs, did he turn around.

“There you are, you lazy piece of shit,” Lucas’ voice bellowed from below, “I’m gonna miss my train because of you!”

And so you stood there, in front of your bedroom door, listening to the sounds of your brother and his friends once again: Yang Yang ordering people around despite being the youngest, Hendery and Lucas’ signature laughter, Ten’s unnecessary comments on it all and Xiaojun’s silence. He was probably just thinking and, for the first time, you had a pretty good idea what he was thinking of. You put your hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool them.

After hearing the door click shut, you entered you own room, realizing you wouldn’t get anymore work done for the rest of the day and, for the first time, not even caring one bit.