#i’ve already spoken about most of this but there were some new hidden lines i had to discuss lol

[thranduel]

van scene analysis (+ hidden lines that got cut)

mike smiles a bit, looking back at that drawing, feeling better now.

will byers made mike wheeler feel better. his painting and his words made him happy and gave him strength. he was struggling before that and no one else could help him. only will.

don’t you think it’s crazy that mike has been in a relationship for several years, and the entire time, he never felt truly needed or confident about himself? how is that healthy or fair for a teenager with so much unresolved trauma? and how do you think el felt too? he couldn’t even say “i love you” to his own girlfriend or write it on paper. there is no communication or trust or honesty with their relationship, because if there was, their issues would’ve been resolved a long time ago WITHOUT the help of someone else. mike has been insecure during this entire relationship which has mentally affected him AND el.

several years of being in a relationship. kissing, hugging, holding hands and probably hundreds of letters sent as well. and yet, mike still didn’t feel needed. he didn’t feel confident. he didn’t feel loved enough. but all it took was one beautiful heart-to-heart conversation with will that changed everything. just ONE scene where will confessed his own feelings and told mike how much he loves him and that he’ll always need him, and mike suddenly felt strong and loved. he believed every word because it all came from will, and will was talking about his OWN feelings for mike. isn’t that crazy? one painting and one conversation with will byers and mike wheeler felt loved, truly loved, for the first time in his life. he felt more loved and needed in that single moment than he has felt during his entire relationship that he’s been in for years. mike doesn’t trust anyone the way he trusts will and he can’t be his true self with anyone else either. THAT is what shows us that mike and will are the ones that need each other more than anything. they make each other feel loved and needed because they have a connection that no one else has and they understand each other better than anyone else.

and the thing about mike and will is that their relationship is NOT based upon emotional attachment because they saved each other’s lives or feel like they owe each other something. no, they found each other when they were both lonely and mike made the choice to walk up to will. he didn’t have to choose him, but he did. out of all the other kids in the playground, he chose will. he didn’t even know anything about him. he just saw himself in him, another lonely kid, and thought that he might need someone too. then they became close because they’re so similar to each other and share the same interests. it has nothing to do with idolising each other or being amazed by what the other can do. they’re just two regular boys that love each other for who they are. they found each other when they needed each other most, they stayed by each other’s side through all their struggles (being bullied and outcasted) and they played games together as an escape and distraction from the real world. they have known each other for most of their lives, understand each other better than anyone else and have a connection that no one else can replace. after all, mike did say that asking will to be his friend was the best thing he’s ever done.

anyways, moving on. the fact that mike and el are unable to make each other feel better about themselves without the help of will says a LOT… el’s letters and her constant affection wasn’t enough to convince mike she “needs” him. he was still insecure and couldn’t even tell her he loved her when she was sobbing. mike also couldn’t comfort el or make her feel better during the entire roller rink incident. he just triggered traumatic memories and made her feel like a monster, which she literally told him.

but then will, kind and selfless will, gave mike his beautiful painting that he worked so hard on and pretended it was commissioned by el. already, that’s gonna make mike think “wow, she cares about me so much and she was thinking of me so she went out of her way to ask will to paint this. she knows how important d&d is to me and she sees me as the leader and the heart of the group” or something like that, but the thing is, she didn’t say any of that. and mike should’ve realised it wasn’t from her because she literally mentioned in her letter that will was painting something for someone he likes but he won’t show her. also, i’ve never even seen el talk about d&d. does she even know how much it means to the boys? mike and el don’t have anything in common and haven’t even had a proper heart-to-heart conversation where they’re actually honest with each other. they barely even know each other.

anyways, will then gave his speech about the heart. this was a very big thing that gave mike strength and confidence. will literally told mike that he inspires all of them and that he’s the leader, and the heart can also be seen as a romantic symbol. mike still thinks this is coming from el and that she made all that up herself when she didn’t.

then will continues. and here’s where it gets confusing. it’s extremely weird that mike doesn’t pick up on the fact he’s not talking about el, because the words he says literally cannot be applied to el. it doesn’t make any sense.

“but… you make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all — like she’s better for being different.”

we already know this is false. and mike should too, considering his last conversation with her was their fight where she said “you think i’m a monster too.” not to mention all the times he’s been scared of her, yelled at her and triggered traumatic memories from the lab which parallel brenner (i still find it weird that mike has the most parallels with brenner in regards to the way he talks to el sometimes and how he only praises her for her powers and for being a “superhero” instead of who she actually is as a person. obviously mike and brenner are very different people, but it’s just weird how the show intentionally includes flashbacks of brenner whenever mike triggers el to show that’s who she’s thinking of).

even when mike was talking about her to will, he started with “she’s… special. she was born special”. that entire scene was only him talking about her powers, how she’s like superman, how it wasn’t fate or destiny but dumb luck that he stumbled on her in the woods (because he doesn’t believe in love at first sight and this has been clear since the beginning), and how he wants to be needed. he didn’t even mention the word “love”. he’s just worried about not being needed because he’s insecure about himself. the entire thing feels weird. their whole relationship just screams “two kids that saved each other’s lives during a traumatic time and are emotionally attached to each other and feel like they’re stuck in a romantic relationship because that’s all they’ve known since they rushed into it and kissed when they were 12 years old after 6 days of knowing each other”, and it’s really sad.

even though they didn’t start technically dating until season 3, romance was already pushed onto them the moment mike kissed her in season 1. it’s like he already decided what their relationship was going to be even though el couldn’t communicate at the same level as him and didn’t know what romance was. they had no time to develop a friendship first. they barely even knew each other. even now, they still don’t. they don’t have anything in common, they don’t feel like equals (both of them admitted this), they don’t understand each other, they don’t make each other feel better about themselves, they don’t have heart-to-heart conversations, there’s no trust and honesty, they always lie to each other, they pretend to be people they’re not and they can’t even be themselves with each other.

it’s also very interesting that this line from mike was cut from the final scene.

“she’s already beginning to understand she doesn’t need me. i saw it — i saw it in her eyes, that last time we talked.”

like, wow. even mike knows that el doesn’t actually need him. that’s why he’s so insecure. and that’s why it makes will’s monologue even more frustrating and heartbreaking because he tried fixing their relationship when he didn’t have to. they were probably ready to break up (which would’ve been better for both of them) if it weren’t for will pushing them back together. and isn’t it crazy that he pushed them back together by lying? something that all the characters don’t like? the iconic phrase “friends don’t lie” has been a part of the show since the beginning.

that’s why they have to come back and address this scene. they can’t just let mike and el stay together because of will’s lies that “fixed” their relationship (it didn’t actually fix anything because mike and el didn’t even communicate at all. i don’t think they’ve ever actually resolved their issues properly) and they can’t let mike not find out that the painting and monologue was from will because it was such an important scene. there are too many lies going on here and they can’t just leave it like that. but anyways, it hurts so much seeing will try to fix their relationship by sacrificing his own feelings and disguising them as el’s. will was clearly heartbroken too, but he just wanted to do what he could to make the people he loves happy. he didn’t want them to be sad. he’s the most kind and selfless person in this entire show.

anyways, back to will’s monologue.

“and that gives her the courage to fight on.”

again, that can’t be applied to el. the last time mike was alone with her, they were fighting and she was having a breakdown in front of him. he wasn’t giving her courage, he was hurting her. obviously he wasn’t trying to do that, but he was. and i’m not saying he’s never given her courage, because of course he has, but i’m specifically talking about the last moment they had together before she left to go with owens. the way he spoke to her and stared at her at the roller rink, the way he triggered a traumatic memory from brenner when he said “what did you do?”, the way he didn’t comfort her or talk to her after it, the way he made a sarcastic comment and made her leave the dinner table, the way he gaslighted her and called her ridiculous for confronting him about their issues (see, no honest communication), the way he couldn’t even tell her he loved her when she was practically begging.

like he said above, “she’s already beginning to understand she doesn’t need me. i saw it — i saw it in her eyes, that last time we talked”. he’s literally aware of how she felt in that scene and he admitted it. so how does he believe will when he said he gives her the courage to fight on? mike knows el made the decision to leave with owens as well even though she might not ever see him again. she even sent him a letter saying “from, el” because she felt defeated and lonely and he wasn’t giving her the love she wanted. she also knew that saving her friends in danger was more important than her relationship issues with mike, and she thought getting her powers back might make her feel worth something at least since mike was no help. she was already insecure about not having her powers since that’s all mike talked about anyways.

“and if she was mean to you or — or she seemed like she was pushing you away — it’s probably just because she was scared of losing you, just like you’re scared of losing her.”

another line that can’t be applied to el because she wasn’t “mean” to mike and never pushed him away. she constantly sent him letters. they were communicating the entire time. mike even saw the shrine she made for him in his room, so obviously he knows how much effort she’s been putting into their relationship.

the only person that was “mean” to mike and pushed him away was will. we know this because they lost contact. they literally argued about it. “maybe you should’ve reached out more, i don’t know”, was what mike said to will. and obviously will remembered that and he saw how hurt mike looked. so will was trying to apologise for that and let him know the truth about why he pushed him away (but obviously he disguised it as el… ugh mike how are you not putting it together??).

then the line “it’s probably just because she’s scared of losing you, just like you’re scared of losing her” is literally a parallel to mike and will’s conversation in 4x04. will is responding to what mike told him about being scared of losing him. mike said “it’s hawkins. it’s not the same without you” and “maybe i felt like i lost you or something”. these lines can only be applied to mike and will.

“because losing you — it just hurts — it hurts too much.”

this line is absolutely heartbreaking because it tells us how much will is hurting. the thought of losing his safe place, his best friend and the boy he’s in love with is so incredibly painful for him. why would they put him through all of this pain and make him be in love with mike from the beginning if they were just going to make it unrequited? like they said, it hurts too much. not just a little bit, but TOO MUCH. and after everything will has been through and how he’s been abused, bullied, kidnapped, possessed, traumatised, excluded and lonely his entire life, how can they make him suffer even more? that’s so cruel and unnecessary and they’ll get so much backlash for using will’s feelings as a plot device just to force another ship back together while leaving him heartbroken. also, how can this line be applied to el anyways? she chose to go with owens even though she was warned she might not ever see mike again. she even sent him a letter saying “from, el” which symbolised her being done with him. the “love” was no longer there (literally and metaphorically, in regards to the romantic aspect of their relationship). she already lost mike. she made her decision.

“so yeah — el needs you, mike. and she always will.”

mike takes this all in. emotional now too.

mike wants to be needed the way that will needs him. will’s painting and the words he said made mike emotional because no one else has ever made him feel that way. no one else has ever given him that much strength and confidence about himself.

“you really think so?”

“i know so.”

once again, mike is asking will for reassurance, because will is the only person he feels completely safe with. he’s the only person he fully trusts, the only person he can confide in, the only person he can be vulnerable with. mike and will have the closest relationship and understand each other better than anyone else. that’s why mike can only believe things when it comes from will.

the fact that will is the person that made mike happy and is the only reason why mike ended up saying his monologue to el is exactly why season 5 needs to come back to this scene and address everything. they cannot just use will’s painting and feelings for mike as a plot device for another ship. he cannot be the couple’s therapist that fixes their problems when they can’t even do that themselves. that’s just insulting to his character and it’s wrong for so many reasons. mike has to find out the painting was from will. he has to find out that will was confessing his own feelings the entire time too. all of this came from will. he put so much effort into that painting for mike and he meant every word he said. will needs mike. he’ll always need mike. and mike needs will too even if he doesn’t realise it yet. mike wants to be needed the way will needs him. he wants to be loved the way will loves him. he wants to be seen as the leader and the heart the way will sees him as the leader and the heart.

mike and will need each other more than anything and they have to finally realise that in season 5.

[keepingsecretstokeepyoutk]

High Infidelity - full lyrical analysis ✨

I’ve been thinking about Taylor’s recent steps towards coming out on the eras tour all day, especially her reading of Seven (it’s really been sinking in today on a new level). And in light of her making a clear declaration to her fans about hoping they can accept her, about how they might meet a new version of her that doesn’t match their romanticized idea of her…I want to share my full lyrical analysis of “High Infidelity”.

At a glance: I essentially see this song as a metaphor for her fans finding out who she really is and reacting like a spouse who has been cheated on. She equates her closeting to “infidelity” and imagines the aftermath of revealing her truth, grappling with both the part of her that harbors guilt about the “lying” and half-truths she’s engaged with to stay hidden, and with the part of her that is hurt and frustrated with those who have effectively already rejected her by way of refusing to see what’s right in front of them.

This song has a lot going on, so I’m just going to walk you through my thought process:

My understanding of this song hinges on this lyric in the chorus: “your picket fence is sharp as knives/ I was dancing around, dancing around it”

This line, with it’s suggestion of a suburban setting, gives me some context for the two verses, which to me read as two different situations, both in a domestic setting.

The first verse reads to me as being from the perspective of a younger narrator, (not necessarily Taylor, but an allegorical young woman), maybe a memory of being a teen, at her parents’ house. The second verse reads like the same narrator, as an adult, living in her husband’s house/marital home.

The fact that Taylor has made it very very clear that these songs are autobiographical, and this is her most vulnerable album in years, makes the following lyrics that much more intriguing.

Verse 1:

“Lock broken/ slur spoken/wound open/ game token/I didn’t know you were keeping count/ Rain soaking/blind hoping/you said I was freeloading/ I didn’t know you were keeping count”

“Lock broken/slur spoken” = someone barges into a room with a closed door, and swears. I picture a homophobic parent walking in on their daughter making out with/being intimate with her secret girlfriend, and the ensuing fight.

“Game token” sounds like her sexuality was then something that then got played against her, to make her compliant in other parts of her life. “You’ve disappointed us enough haven’t you? You better x” x could be making perfect grades, being a high achiever in some other way, doing this family thing that makes you uncomfortable, but most of all, x equals staying closeted, hiding the family shame.

“You said I was free loading/I didn’t know you were keeping count” Her family continues to treat her differently after this revelation, just tolerating her presence, treating her like a stranger in her own home, a tenant instead of a daughter. Maybe at some point she thinks things might change or might be starting to get better but has a blow out fight with one of her parents and they say something to the effect of “how dare you when I allow you to keep living under my roof” making her realize that they aren’t going to change and that it’s not healthy to stick around, so she resolves to leave.

Verse 2:

“Storm coming/good husband/Bad omen/Dragged my feet right down the aisle/at the house lonely/good money/I’d pay if you just know me/Seemed like the right thing at the time”

“storm coming” means the consequences of getting found out/ outed. The same allegorical woman from the first verse married a man that she didn’t love because she was afraid of living her truth and the potential consequences (= the storm). But doing so has left her lonely, isolated, and empty, and she regrets her decision.

I think Taylor is using this narrative arc outlined in the verses to tell her own story.

The first verse represents getting found out by the public, likely referencing kissgate. “Lock broken” then is a metaphor for her secret life being revealed. “Slur spoken,” representing the disapproving party, likely references her homophobic fans. In addition, given the lines about game tokens and keeping count, she may also be referencing her manager/team/record company and their reaction to her “jeopardizing” everything she’s worked for and hundreds of people’s jobs by being so “reckless”, when really they were just interested in continuing to make millions off of her, and found a way to use this guilt to control her.

The second verse would then represent she and Karlie deciding to get into serious bearding contracts in 2015 to avoid the “storm coming”.

“Good husband/Bad omen” acknowledges that the choice to “take a husband” in the form of their beards, set them up for trouble in the future. A bad omen fortells what’s coming, and Taylor and Karlie likely both knew that while their lavender “marriages” would serve them well for the time being, they would also bring with them unknowable complications and inevitable strife, especially if they one day decided to come out. Their bearding up to this point had been shortlived pr stunts, but Karlie marrying someone and Taylor carrying on a beard narrative for 6+ years is a more complicated web to untangle.

Thus, “dragged my feet right down the aisle”.

“At the house lonely/Good money/ I’d pay if you just know me” the well-placed line break allows this lyric to represent both the financial security they get by staying closeted, but also how Taylor would pay good money to be truly known and accepted by her fans.

All of this brings us to the chorus, which steps outside of the allegory established in the verses which provide a backstory for the emotions expressed in the choruses.

The chorus has three parts: two parts that are mostly repeated with each chorus, but with two lines that change with each repeat of the chorus, and a third part that is made up of two longer lines, which sonically contrast well with the short lines in the verses and the first two parts of the chorus, meaning these two longer lines punctuate the song and underscore the content of the two lines.

Chorus Parts 1 & 2:

“High infidelity/put on your records and regret me/ I bent the truth too far tonight/ and I was dancing around/ dancing around it/high infidelity/ put on your headphones and burn my city/ your picket fence is sharp as knives/I was dancing around/dancing around it.”

Chorus Part 3:

“Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?/ Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?”

(In the second chorus, the second line of the third part goes: “Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?”)

“High infidelity/put on your records and regret me/I bent the truth too far tonight/I was dancing around/dancing around it”

The chorus is Taylor imagining fully coming out, and some of her fans reactions.“High infidelity” would be referring to Taylor “lying” to her fans, who have a close parasocial relationship to the person they believe her to be, and who might feel “betrayed” if they found out Taylor was hiding a big part of who she is. “Put on your records and regret me” imagines then either listening to her old albums, hanging on to their idea of her, her use of male pronouns, etc, or maybe hate listening to her music, seething about how “fake” she was the whole time they “supported her”. Or maybe they’ll listen to other music, trying to drown out her songs (which they’ll never be able to do because they’re burned into their memory).

“I was dancing around it” refers to everything we have occupied ourselves with in this corner of the internet for a number of years: all of her signaling, her Easter eggs, her bait and switches, her clever word choices, disgusting her truth in plain sight. She has included bits and pieces of her truth in her lyrics, but not been direct.

I see the coupling of “I bent the truth too far” with “I was dancing around it” as both acknowledging the lies that went too far (Grammy gate, betty gate) but also her saying, “I’ve been trying to tell you” (I gave so many signs)

Part two of the chorus: “High infidelity/put on your headphones and burn my city/your picket fence is sharp as knives/I was dancing around, dancing around it”.

“Burn my city” - Cities typically burn in literature or in real life when the masses riot/are enraged. I think this shows Taylor’s real fear that if she were to plainly come out, her fans would burn her memory/empire, and disown her and their journey together. However, fire also symbolizes cleansing, a new beginning, or a change of power, so while this visual could demonstrate her fear of losing everything and no longer being “on top”, it could also echo the optimistic fire symbols we’ve seen recently (lover house burning, her staring at the lighter with vengeance and excitement in her eyes, and her smiling while her castle burns in bejeweled). This layer offers the song an irreverent tone, one that echoes her spoken performance of Seven, which to me sounded like she has made peace with the fact that she may lose some of her fans when she fully comes out.

“Your picket fence is sharp as knives” sounds like Taylor expressing the pain that others expectations of her have caused her. To me it sounds like her saying “I may have lied, but you were keeping me prisoner in that fantasy of me being the perfect all-American woman”. We have already heard her express this in this album cycle, her exasperation with the marriage rumors, the 1950’s shit.

This dynamic between closeted pop star and fans parallels a narrative of infidelity in a traditionally gendered heterosexual relationship. The wife that has cheated out of a desperation to be seen and appreciated, imprisoned by her picket fence which represents the sexist expectations put on her to perform as a perfect wife. Taylor has lied for the same reasons. Because of the gendered expectations put on her as a woman, that forced her to tell her audience what they wanted to hear, lest she suffer “the storm.”

But what then does the third part of the chorus refer to?

“Do you really wanna know where I was April 29th/ Do I really need to chart the constellations in his eyes?”

Taylor is continuing with the metaphor of infidelity to allegorize a “discussion” with her fans post coming out. With this lyric, a confrontation with the cheated-on spouse, She says, essentially, “do you really need me to spell it out for you? Do you really want me to detail something you clearly want to be in the dark about?”

Taylor is pointing out that this lie has been a two-way street. Anyone closely following her and willfully believing her bearding narrative at this point is consenting to denial and social artifice, both of which we happen to also associate with picket fences and American suburbia.

This allegory of Taylor as the cheating trophy wife, and her fans as the absent or unappreciative husband, goes deep. In both cases, the relationship was doomed from the start, to the fault of both parties, and larger social structures. The wife likely married a man with red flags, and played the part she thought she needed to play to find love and stability. The husband didn’t bother to dig under her performance, by spending time with her and truly getting to know her; he was comfortable with her being the “perfect woman” poised and done up, a good homemaker. Society at large enforced both of these choices.

Taylor played the part she thought she needed to in order to be successful, perhaps past the age she was powerless to do otherwise, and her fans didn’t want to see the real her once she started to reveal it; they were happy with their idea of who she was, partially because it had been fed to them, and partially because once that idea started to loose merit they refused to take notice. Society at large dictated the part Taylor should play, and enforced the heteronormativity that allowed her fans to continue believing her public narrative when it became flimsy at best.

The choice to employ the cheating allegory also seems to suggest that Taylor is underscoring the moral gray area of her situation - not the fact of being closeted, but the extent to which she has gone in some cases to protect her career and her loved ones. (Again, this brings to mind undeserved awards given to certain people, and the collateral damage of her queer fans being targeted by straight fans, etc.) There is no absolute right or wrong, no wholey innocent party. The wife had her reasons to cheat, Taylor had her reasons to lie, but still some regrettable moves were made, which left Taylor feeling regretful - or at least yearning for a life without the hiding and deceit.

This point places this song squarely within the larger themes of this album - namely, Taylor reflecting on the choices she’s made along the way in her closeting journey, and the uncertainty she has over whether she’s made the correct ones. As with other songs like Dear Reader and Anti Hero, her writing here maintains an ambiguity that belies her inner turmoil about her choice to prioritize her career over her personal life. She states again and again that she is, at least in part, the architect of her own misfortune, even if she built it for survival.

This song is an outstanding example of what I love most in Taylor’s writing. When you can’t tell a story outright, you have to tell it in allegory, when you can’t name a feeling, you have to describe it, either viscerally or in elaborate symbolism, which, when executed by someone with her talent, makes for unmatched storytelling.

[ghettoeloquence]

Black Femininity.

Let’s talk Black femininity: a hidden gem that seems to be within blurred lines.

Disclaimer: For me to “investigate” black femininity properly, I have chosen several beautiful black women who sport natural hairstyles/protective styles, natural bodied, and has a creative essence that envelopes them. These women are glamourous, soulful, eclectic, and beautifully flawed. This makes them no different than you and I. Finding the unique in our natural beauty, and those that sets us apart. Quite frankly, this, to me, seems as if it’s the root and/or epitome of the beauty around the world. The golden standard amongst most.

Hello to you my glamourous ladies!

This discussion will be about something I’ve recently found interesting. So apparently, in today’s society (or to specify, the male-i-sphere), there is a discussion about the level of femininity that black women have in contrast to other races/ ethnicities of women. Now, I’ve spoken about submission (a biblical concept) in a worldly discussion and like always, it’s taken out of context. Or in other words perverted, like the devil does everything God creates. The world has been speaking down on black women for seems like forever but my issue is with black women. 

I find it really disheartening to see you accept this notion, let it sink into your mind, and become subservient to it. This is not us! We are the epitome of femininity and the origin of humans. Show some dignity, ladies (ouch, but needed to be said)! Believe me, I become furious when I hear what everyone says about us too, but we CANNOT, for the life of us, ingrain everything someone says about us. 

HOWEVER…

Lets get something CRYSTAL clear…

FEMININITY IS NOT INHERETLY EUROCENTRIC. 

FEMININITY IS NOT STARIGHT OR CURLY WIGS.

FEMININITY IS NOT DRESSING A CERTAIN WAY.

FEMININITY IS NOT SPEAKING SOFTLY OR A HIGH PITCHED VOICE.

FEMININITY IS NOT WEARING PINK AT ALL TIMES.

FEMININITY IS NOT APPEARING WEAK.

FEMININITY IS NOT APPEALING TO THE MALE GAZE.

FEMININITY IS NOT IN COMPETITION WITH OTHER WOMEN WHO ACT/LOOK DIFFERENT THAN YOU.

FEMININITY IS NOT ACTING ALL GIDDY AND BUBBLY AROUND MEN.

FEMININITY IS NOT BEING AN AIRHEAD SO THAT MEN CAN DO THINGS FOR YOU.

FEMININITY IS INNATE IN WOMEN ONLY!

If you as a women thing all these things are false, I got some bad news for you…

Black Women this is a wakeup call to realize that there is femininity in our own culture. There is femininity in our own hair. There is femininity in our own traditions. There is femininity in our own history. I hate to see black women who change or “tweak” themselves to appear more feminine (which they assume is the appearance of European women). Why do you think that femininity is inherently European? Why do you think that you have to wear your hair a certain way or talk a certain way to be feminine? Are you not enough already, as a Women? 

To me, this just sound like racist talking points regurgitated, twisted, tweaked, flipped, reversed, and spinned again. Why are you so comfortable portraying yourself this way for the sake of acceptable “femininity”? Why are you so comfortable telling the black female youth this madness? Who told you that femininity was a look? Don’t worry Ill wait…

This may hurt but darlings we must be honest with ourselves. If we like this “aesthetic” then cool but who lied to you and said that femininity is based off Eurocentric standards?

Here’s the truth: FEMININITY LOOKS DIFFERENT FOR EVERY ETHNIC GROUP.

How does Latinx femininity look? Polynesian? Asian? Middle Eastern? Continental African?

So why on earth are you so adamant on accepting your own femininity and embracing its uniqueness? I don’t blame you though because I’ve been there. I thought the same as you. I felt how you’ve felt. This has been ingrained in our minds since childhood. But were furthering it at this point. 

Let’s look at some of my favorite examples of what Black femininity looks like.

Thoughts?

[sundaysundaes]

Revival

Jung Jaehyun X Reader feat. Haechan | Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmate AU | NC-17 | 15k

Summary: When fate brought Jung Jaehyun to you, it didn’t feel like your first time meeting him. And with him, smiling at you like his heart shattering to pieces, eyes painted with longing, you knew you were connected to him somehow. You just have to find the answers before it’s too late.

Warnings: sex scenes (both with Jaehyun and Haechan), mentions of death and suicide 

For my lovely cinnamon bun Esme @rainydayswithnct​ I couldn’t think of anything else to give you but this. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, I hope this will make you happy ❤️

His eyes… They remind you of the ocean after the storm. 

It’s not the color as his are dark brown, like the freshly turned earth after rain. It’s the feeling, the way they glimmer under the soft evening light, calm and steady, but in a way, emits sadness, yearning for something. As if he had been crushed, trapped inside a hurricane for so long, he was about to fade into the void. And as he peered into your eyes, full of depths and secrets you long to unveil, something tugs upon your heartstring. 

It’s not love at a first sight. You’ve experienced that before with Lee Donghyuck, the lover whom you share frantic kisses and desperate touches with. But it’s something more intense, something you can’t even begin to fathom, something you wish you understand.

The second your eyes are locked to each other, it’s like you’re electrocuted, starting from the tip of your hair down to your toes.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, your voice sounds like you haven’t spoken in years. A tiny red spot begins to form on his chin from where it made contact with your head earlier. “I was looking for a book so I wasn’t—I didn’t see you there.”

The man, young enough to be around your age with a gaze wiser than most, has an expression of a heartbroken man. There’s pain that fleets through his eyes, a feeling that he quickly hides with a smile too bright to be genuinely coming from the heart. When he speaks, his voice is both rich and soft, deep and tender. “No, it was my fault.” He shakes his head. “Please don’t apologize.”

You want to reach out to him, want to know why he looks like he’s seconds away from breaking apart, want to ask him whether you’ve said too much or too less. But he’s nothing but a stranger and you don’t want to step out of the line. “Were you looking for a book?”

“Yes, umm…” He points his finger towards a book hidden in the shelf behind you. “That one.”

You follow his direction, smiling when you read the title written on its spine. “No wonder we bumped heads. I was aiming for the same book.”

“Oh, then it’s fine,” he says, pushing the book back to you after you handed it to him. “You can take it.”

“No, please, go ahead. I’ve read this too many times already.”

“Me too. So—”

“I insist.” You press the book to his chest, looking up at him. He looms before you, standing 180 centimeters tall that you have to tilt your head up to match his line of vision. You catch a sniff of his scent, the smell of soap and aftershave, thinly layered by cologne. His eyelashes are long, face framed by strong jawlines, brunette locks falling over his forehead. When his lips curve up, pretty dimples start to form in his cheeks. He looks like a painting, a thought runs through your mind, one that you hastily dismiss. “Take it as a form of my apology for bruising your chin,” you add.

His eyes widen, just for a split second before a soft chuckle reverberates from his chest. When he speaks again, it’s almost like a whisper—like a secret never meant to be told, “I can never win against you.”

You barely catch his words. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. “I’m… I was about to borrow this and grab some coffee. Would you care to join me? I’d love to talk more.” His body language indicates that he’s nervous which you find rather endearing. “I mean, It’s hard to find someone who has a similar taste like mine.”

Your heart convulses. You know how grabbing some coffee together tends to lead to something more. Your boyfriend’s name pops in your head but your lips betray you before your brain can form a warning. “Well, I do have a peculiar taste when it comes to books,” you answer with a smile. “Sure, as long as you tell me your name.”

“Right, sorry.” You love the sound he makes when he chuckles, and you love it more when it echoes louder in your ears. He offers his hand, stretching out his lean fingers. “I’m Jaehyun.”

You expect it to be soft just like the way he’s gazing at you, but his palm feels calloused against your own. When you reply to him with your name, he seems stunned but doesn’t stay still for long. Your name flows out of his mouth so naturally, as if he has been calling you for years, like a soulmate to another. It feels like electricity is running through your veins once more, something that you’ve never experienced before.

It takes around ten minutes to walk from the library to the nearest coffee shop and by then, you’ve caught on the little gestures he makes: the way he forces himself to laugh a little when he notices he’s being too straightforward; the way he clears his throat when he feels like his words have more hidden meanings than they let on. You’ve become aware of his passion and the love he has for books, so strong that it can only be matched by your own. You’ve learned about his dream, a novelist in the making, taking his first baby steps to turn it into reality.

“Have you thought about what kind of story you’re planning to write?” You question as you slide your cup closer with hot, black coffee shimmering inside. Before you take a sip, Jaehyun drags a sugar bowl toward your direction. “What?”

“It’s too bitter for you.”

“You think I can’t handle my coffee?”

“It’s not that.” He clears his throat and you wonder what is it that he’s trying to hide. “The coffees here are always too bitter.”

“Yeah?” You taunt him, smirking. “Well, watch me.” You take a sip, about to wince when the bitter taste hits your tongue but you act unfazed. Smacking your lips, you say, “See? I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No. Give me the damn sugar.” 

It doesn’t take long before Jaehyun’s little laughter becomes one of your most favorite sounds in the world. 

“I’m planning to write a romance novel,” he responds to your earlier question.

“Romance, huh? To be honest, I see you more as someone who writes detective stories. Never would’ve pegged you as a romantic.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be more than just a romance story. It has a supernatural element to it. Borderline fantasy.”

“Like what?”

He takes a few seconds before he responds quietly with a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll just have to read to find out.”

“Cheapskate.” You purse your lips. “Is it going to have a happy ending?”

“Well, they’ll be separated by death in the end.”

“No,” you drawl out. “What happens to them? You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me about it.”

“Of course, I can.” There’s a tiny smirk creeping up his lips. “I’m the author.”

“And a jerk too, apparently.” You’re worried you might go too far with your joke but Jaehyun still peers at you with that warm, longing eyes that make you curl your toes.

“Fine, then,” he succumbs. “Since you insist, I’ll give you a hint later. But you’ll have to imagine the rest.”

“Then tell you about it? What if you steal my idea?” You raise an eyebrow, teasing him. “I happen to have a very creative imagination.”

“I promise you I won’t. I’ve finished writing my version of it. I’ll let you see it after you tell me yours.”

“Huh, interesting.” You pretend like you’re rethinking your decision, just to get him a little bit hopeful and nervous by it. “Deal, why not.” Your coffee has grown slightly cold but the sugary taste of it serves as an addiction. “So, does that mean we’ll see each other again?”

“Well, I do have to go back to the library to return the book. So, hopefully, yes.” You both exchange stares, sharing sheepish smiles with you breaking away first, bringing your focus back to your coffee. “I’ve never seen you in the library before,” Jaehyun questions, “Is today your first time visiting?”

“No. I’ve been visiting it almost every day for the last… two weeks, I think? It’s near my workplace so I usually drop by after work to read for an hour or two. My apartment is pretty small so it feels a bit cramped. That’s why I enjoy spending more time outside.” You swirl your spoon, watching the little whirlpool you create inside your cup. “Besides, I can’t read at home.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s…” You awkwardly laugh, waving one hand in the air. “I have a boyfriend who is younger than me and he’s a pretty lively person. It’s hard to focus on your book when someone keeps pulling you into conversations.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop tapping against the surface of the coffee table but it’s too fast for you to notice before he starts again. “Isn’t it better to have someone like that rather than to be alone, though?” He counters, the smile on his lips never falter but the one in his eyes does.

“I…” It’s not apparent but you can sense it, the painful look on his face. It feels like you just said something that hurt him so badly that you want to apologize about it. “Yeah… I guess so…”

Maybe he notices you noticing, which is why he tries to mask his feelings better with a wider smile that does reach his eyes this time. “Why do you choose this library?” He diverts the topic. “There are a lot of new ones in town, bigger ones too. This place is pretty old and dusty.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You nod, sighing. “Okay, don’t laugh, but honestly? It just feels somewhat nostalgic to me. The first time I stepped inside, it felt like I’d been spending all my life there—just sitting on that old couch, reading books, enjoying the silence. It just feels familiar, even more comforting than being in my room. It’s weird but I can only feel at ease when I read there.” Jaehyun stays quiet that you have to lift your head to understand what goes through his head. His face is pensive, undecipherable. “What about you? What’s your reason, Jaehyun?”

He stops breathing at the sound of his name escaping your mouth, his shoulders tense, and only after what feels like hours, he finally has the strength to drag his eyes away from yours, bringing them down to see his interlaced fingers lying on the table. 

“It’s just closer to my place.”

***

“Hey, babe.” Donghyuck chirps with a lollipop stuck in his mouth, his fingers running through the keyboards, eyes locked to his computer screen. He can tell that it’s you who just slipped through the front door by the sound of your footsteps. “You’re late. Did you get the puddings I asked you?”

“They’re in the fridge.” You take off your coat and unwrap your scarf from your neck before you stroll toward the living room. You can’t remember what or who initiated it but it has been almost six months since he started living in your apartment. You remember how he used to spend just one night at your place on the weekend, then two when he felt a bit needy for your touch. Before you knew it, his personal belongings were scattered all over the place—his hoodie on the couch, his towel on the bed, his toothbrush on your sink—and he could be spending the entire week at your place, only moving once to his apartment when he ran out of comic books to read. It just came so naturally that you didn’t notice at first but by the time you did, it was too late to even bring the topic to the table.

Being with Donghyuck was easy, casual, and he gave you more reasons to laugh over little things more than anyone else. During the first two months, you acted like newlyweds with him peppering kisses on your face whenever you arrived home from work. Unlike you, Donghyuck is a freelancer and he does most of his work at home. He used to be considerate enough to do some chores for you—cooking, cleaning the bathroom, sometimes even doing your laundry when he felt he’d been neglecting you. Whenever you arrived late, he would’ve always had something prepared for you, beaming at you with a contagious grin while chiming, “Finally, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you and I’m starving. Today’s dish is your favorite so let’s eat!”

But things are bound to change and happiness doesn’t last forever. It started slow, almost unnoticeable, with him forgetting to kiss you good night before bed and you treating the fact that he no longer paid attention to what you were wearing as normal. Nowadays, he doesn’t have enough affection to greet you with his smile—one that used to shine brighter than the sun. Comforting hugs and welcome kisses are long forgotten.

It’s lonely, but it’s fine. He’s still here. Donghyuck is still yours as much as you are his.

It’s fine.

“I met someone today,” you say, reaching out to stroke his dark hair. It’s so soft and fluffy like a dog’s fur and you find it calming just to card your fingers through them. The feelings are the same, only his reaction isn’t. He used to lean into your touch as a kitten would. Now, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. 

“A man?”

“Yep.”

“Is he hot?”

“Well, he’s not ugly.”

“Then don’t get too close to him.”

Donghyuck is the jealous type, he’s always been—sometimes even a bit possessive but it makes you happy to know there’s someone out there who cares about you so much he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else. But not today. Today, his words feel empty. You can tell that he doesn’t mean any of them. He just says them as a joke, maybe out of habit, but certainly not a warning.

“What will we be having for dinner?” You ask him when he’s busy shouting foul words to his screen as his character just got shot dead.

“Jesus—left, you moron!” He groans loudly in to the air before he turns around, finally recognizing your presence. “What? Oh.” He pops the lollipop out of his mouth. “I just had some take-outs.”

“You didn’t wait for me?”

“I was dead hungry, but I ordered some for you too. It’s probably cold now but you can heat it up.”

“Can you do that for me, please? I love it when you add more seasonings to it.”

“I’d love to do that but,” he smiles apologetically, his fingers meeting the keyboards once more. “I’m busy, babe. There’s an event going on and Jeno literally won’t let me take a break. Look, I’ll cook for you tomorrow, I promise.”

You have stopped believing in his promises, or at least, don’t allow yourself to believe. You’ve learned that the best way to avoid disappointment is to not expect anything.

You smile back, push his hair away so you can land a kiss on his temple. And no matter how much your bottled-up feelings are about to burst, you don’t say a word.

Because you know silence is what keeps your relationship alive.

***

That night, Jaehyun appeared in your dream.

He had a different hairstyle, a little bit shorter, color’s a shade darker. He was dressed in an old-fashioned way—a white buttoned-up shirt under a brown blazer that was a couple of sizes bigger than it was supposed to. Nevertheless, he looked just as strikingly handsome as he was in real life.

He took off his fedora hat, bowing when his eyes met yours as he entered the library—the one that you always visit. “You look beautiful today,” he said, smiling like he always has from the first time you saw him but it felt different in the dream. His smile was timid and shy, eyes never stayed long enough to be locked with yours, but they were honest. The way they shimmered in adoration at the sight of you, painted with both desire and affection.

Your body went autopilot, words flowing from your mouth before you could even process the situation. It was like you were residing in someone else’s body, just a bystander. “Are you saying I didn’t look beautiful yesterday?”

“No, that’s not—” At the sight of you covering your smile behind your hand, he sighed, pressing his hat to his chest. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m sorry. Which book would you like to read today?”

“Will you choose one for me?”

“Unfortunately, I have a peculiar taste when it comes to books—”

“I trust you.” He smiled a tad wider, perfect teeth peeking behind soft red lips, and you could feel your lips curving to mirror his. 

“Well then,” you said, reaching toward a bookshelf. “Why don’t we start with this?”

It ended without you knowing what book it was nor the line between your dream and reality. They stand out so vividly—the scenery, his expressions, the lines you’d exchanged with him—that it takes you a few good minutes to realize that it was just a dream and not a memory.

You couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

***

The library is indeed old, with walls standing in dire need to be repainted. But the faint smell of sandalwood combined with the orange tint of sunlight sneaking through the windows is comforting. Crowds don’t gather much around here—maybe four or five people at most—and you’re consoled by the tranquility. There’s only a soft thrum of acoustic guitar playing through the speakers that keep you company.

And Jaehyun.

You meet him every day when the sun is an hour away from setting. You don’t chat for long, spending most of your hour reading your chosen book for the day while stealing glances at him scribbling stuff down on his notebook.

“Why don’t you use a laptop?”

“Not fond of it. I feel more like a writer this way,” Jaehyun responds, re-reading the words he just wrote on paper. When he notices you’re giggling, he frowns. “What?”

“You’re like my dad.”

“Then I’m sure your dad is a very smart, tech-savvy man.”

“I’m saying you have an old soul, the way you prefer to do stuff more traditionally.” You sink further into your chair, opening a new page, eyes scanning the lines but not reading them. “Well, I guess that makes the two of us since I already have the e-book version of this on my iPad and I’m still here reading it in a library. How’s your story going?”

“Pretty well. I just came up with a really annoying character.” His smile is a bit different this time, somewhat mischievous. “Inspired by someone.”

“You’re not talking about me, are you?”

Jaehyun drags his pen over his note. “Character A begins to question her—”

“Shut up!”

The more time you spend with him, the more you feel like he’s becoming a mystery you can’t solve. You’re closer to him, closer than any of your friends, but you know there are secrets he tries to bury underneath those tender smiles. To you, Jaehyun, with his eyes that always seem like they’re telling a different story—one that nearly drives him to the brink of tears, still seems like an incomplete puzzle. And if time allows you, you’d gladly collect every piece of him to be able to perceive him better.

***

Jaehyun visited you in another dream.

This time, you were walking next to him beside a beautiful pond in a backyard that seemed familiar enough to be your own. Both of you were dressed in traditional clothing and you wondered whether a ceremony just occurred.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, holding your hand.

“I don’t know, maybe,” you heard yourself mumble, body moving beyond your control. “I just feel like we’re moving too fast. We just turned twenty.”

“Are you having doubts?” He intertwined your fingers better and you noticed how his were shaking slightly. “About me?”

“Of course not.” You turned around, reaching up to caress his cheek, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “Jaehyun, this is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I want to be with you, there’s no doubt about it. I’m just thinking about our future, that’s all. What will we do with our jobs? Our money? What will we do when we have kids—”

“It’s just like you to overthink about stuff,” he tittered, “We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.”

That earned him a pout. “I’m not overthinking about stuff. I’m planning them.”

“Of course, my bad.” He kissed your inner palm once before he let you frame his face again, his hand pressing against the back of your smaller one. “Thank you.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For everything. For caring, for worrying.” Jaehyun smiled so gently, it was almost heartbreaking. “For being with me. Perhaps it’s immature for me to say this, but whatever future that lies ahead of us, I’m sure it’s filled with nothing but joy as long as we’re together.”

“That is such an embarrassing line to say.” You giggled and the blush that bloomed on his face was instant and striking but before he could say a word, you pulled him into your embrace, resting your cheek against his chest. “As long as we’re together, huh?” You repeated quietly. “Then will you promise you’ll stay with me forever?”

“I promise.” Jaehyun’s smile was pressing against your hairline. “Not even death can separate us.”

You wake up with a cold sweat, your heart thrumming so loudly, it makes you feel nauseous. Donghyuck shifts around in bed at the sound of you gasping for air, sleepily asking what’s wrong as he rubs his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you tremulously utter, a hand on your chest as if it could do something to steady your racing heart. “Go back to sleep.”

Donghyuck sends you another look with eyes barely opened. “Come here.” He tugs you closer to his chest, his nose grazing the crook of your neck. “It’s just a nightmare,” he murmurs drowsily against your skin, and in a matter of seconds, he drifts back to sleep.

“Yeah…” You swallow your breath, Jaehyun’s name resting on the tip of your tongue. “Just a nightmare…”

One that feels too real.

***

Weeks turn into months, and what started as curiosity becomes affection. 

Reading books has turned into nothing but an excuse for both of you to spend time together. What started as stealing secret glances at each other has morphed into an exchange of secret whispers in a secluded corner. The questions have become more personal too, and you find yourself talking about childhood memories and nonsensical ideas that show up in your thoughts, even the ones you have never shared with anyone else, not even to Donghyuck who lends his arm for you at night.

It’s only the dreams that you keep quiet about, as they always revolve around him since the first day you met Jaehyun. You’re not sure why, maybe it’s a way of your subconscious trying to tell you that you have feelings for him—feelings that aren’t meant to be shared with friends—as the dreams tend to play romantically. And you can’t deny that you do feel something about him.

It’s hard not to feel anything when Jaehyun has given you everything you’ve ever asked from a person. From a friend. From a lover.

But it’s not love. Definitely not love. At least not in the way you know of. In your mind, love is in the form of hugs you share with Donghyuck, not in the way Jaehyun lands his eyes on yours. Love is—

Your head swirls. What is love?

The concept of love is so complex that even if you know about it, you’re not sure if you understand it enough to experience it. You have never talked about love, not with your boyfriend, not with yourself. Is it something that you’ve already felt once? Are you in love with Donghyuck—the man you’ve spent the last two years together?

What does he think of me? You start to lose focus, sinking into your thoughts and the soft music playing in the background feels like a lullaby. Does Hyuck love me?

Before long, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. You fall asleep with your arms folded on the table, cheek pressing against them.

You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming of a hand, so warm and tender as it brushes stray hairs from your temple. You’re dreaming of a voice, so familiar to your ears, so quiet and heartbroken as it resonates in whispers. You’re dreaming of a pair of lips, so soft and light as they press against your strands.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember me. It’s okay, so please…” Slender fingers curl around your wrist, bringing it to frame a face with skin as soft as porcelain. “Just come back to me…”

You wake up. 

Jaehyun is sitting on the other side of the table, pen tapping against his lips as he reads back his work, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He notices the little shift in your movement, immediately beaming at you with his signature smile. “Hey there, Sleepyhead.”

You rub your eyes before sitting straight on your seat, your hair’s astray. “What—How did I—” A coat is slipping through your shoulders and you catch it before it meets the ground. It’s Jaehyun’s. “Umm—t-thanks,” you mumble, handing it back to him.

“Sure,” he responds. “You were shivering so…”

“Oh… Right.” You certainly don’t feel cold now especially when your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “W-what time is it?”

“Around eight. The place’s about to close.” Jaehyun takes a sip of his drink, grinning at your behavior. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve. My boyfriend's gonna interrogate me for this.” You sigh, trying to gather back every bit of your strength and dignity. “Why are you still here?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, acting offended. “You don’t actually think that I’m the type of guy who leaves pretty girls sleeping defenselessly in public, do you?”

The word ‘pretty’ comes so effortlessly from his mouth that you’re sure he doesn’t mean it to mean something more. “There’s literally no one else around here but the staff besides us.”

“Which should be the more reason why I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You scoff, shaking your head in amusement. “Yes, yes, how chivalrous of you. Thank you, oh my mighty prince. How can I return the favor?”

“By coming here again tomorrow?”

The way his eyes shine with excitement at the thought of seeing you again makes your heart flutter. “I don’t think you need to ask,” you grin.

***

Jaehyun knows you. He knows you too well. But it’s not the things that can be seen, it’s the things that you can only know by spending time together. Jaehyun knows the type of music you listen to, knows that whenever it gets too cold, you’ll start craving a cup of hot chocolate. 

It’s strange, the fact that Jaehyun, a stranger you just befriended, pays attention with all his heart, even at the words that accidentally slipped off your tongue as if you’re the only person who matters in the world, while Donghyuck, your boyfriend, barely bats an eyelash when you share an important aspect of your life. It feels strange at first, but now, it sickens you.

“What’s this?” You ask, examining a CD case he just hands over. “Are you giving me a mix-tape?” It doesn’t have a cover, just a note painted with the words: When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other. You have your eyebrow raised. “A quote by Rob Sheffield?”

“It’s a hint for my story. As promised.” He takes a seat in front of you. “Have you worked on it?”

“When you’re only giving me this quote as a hint and nothing more, it’s kinda hard to come up with something tragic for the ending.”

“I thought you had a very creative imagination.”

You throw a playful glare and he titters a little bit in response. “Is there any other reason why you’re giving me this?”

“Just something to keep you company.” He smiles. He always smiles, but more with his eyes than his lips. Then he slides down another thing—a book this time—wrapped with a red ribbon. “As you read this.”

It’s an old book written by your favorite author, one that you haven’t been able to read because it’s so rare to find. “How do you—” You’re lost for words. You have never told him about this. You’ve mentioned your favorite books but none from this author as it is something personal that you prefer to keep to yourself, not wanting others to judge you for your distinctive taste.

“It’s written by my favorite author,” he elaborates, “I just thought you’d like it too since we have similar taste.”

There’s something he’s not telling you, you can sense that. But if he’s not ready to provide the words, you won’t take them away by force.

“Thank you.” You hug the book to your chest. Somehow, the air feels like spring, like cherry blossoms blooming for the first time after being frozen for so long. “I’ll cherish this.”

“It’s just a book, don’t be dramatic,” he chuckles but happiness is written all over his face, mirroring yours. Jaehyun’s eyes soften and he appears so fragile, like a porcelain doll. So beautiful and vulnerable.

The songs he has compiled for you seem like they’re taken straight out of your playlist. Even for the songs you’ve never listened to before, they click right in. You’re so caught by the moment, drowned deep in the lyrics and the music that resonates from your speakers, that you don’t hear the sounds of your boyfriend stepping into the room.

“I thought I heard noises. What are you listening to?” Donghyuck asks, leaning over your shoulder to peek at the empty CD case you’ve been holding on your lap.

“A friend gave me,” you answer. You notice the way his eyes dart to the handwritten note and it makes you nervous as if you’re doing something wrong behind his back, something forbidden.

“What a thoughtful friend,” he comments nonchalantly, albeit a little bit cold. You mask your anxiety with a chuckle. “Maybe you can tell your friend that there’s this thing called Spotify nowadays. Literally no one listens to CDs anymore.”

Your tongue lays heavy in your mouth, and maybe it’s better to leave things the way it is but you can’t stop yourself from bitterly saying, “I happen to like listening to CDs. It makes me feel nostalgic.”

“You and your nostalgia.” Donghyuck snorts, completely missed the annoyed tone in your voice. He places a peck on the top of your head. “Well, I’m hungry. What do you want to have for dinner? I’ll cook."

“There’s a new Chinese restaurant opening just a block away,” Jaehyun said on a Sunday evening when you two were about to part ways. “They got amazing reviews. Do you have some time to spare? I know how much you love Chinese food.”

“I never told you I loved Chinese food.”

“Everybody loves Chinese food, it’s not that hard to guess.”

“Fine. But if you can guess what I’m about to order, I’ll start filing a restraining order against you, assuming you’re a stalker.”

“Well, I gotta be careful not to get caught then.”

“Baby?” Donghyuck snaps you out of your reverie. “I’m asking what you wanna have for dinner.”

“Umm…” You push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, somewhat jittery. “Chinese food?”

He frowns upon your words. “I didn’t know you liked Chinese food.”

“I-it’s just something I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Well, I’m going to cook you something better.” He grins, boyish and ignorant. “How about your favorite Spaghetti Aglio e Olio by Chef Lee Donghyuck?”

You smile, weak but hopefully not empty. “That would be nice.”

***

“You’re okay?” Jaehyun asks the second you take a seat in front of him. He seems so concerned that it surprises you. You haven’t realized you look that troubled.

“I’m fine,” you assure him with a smile. “Just… You know, boyfriend stuff.”

You can tell how Jaehyun is holding back his words from how tightly he keeps his lips pressed together. He’s always considerate like that, always detecting every little thing that you try to hide but never pressures you to speak, especially when it comes to your relationship. Jaehyun respects you, respects the fact that you are already involved with someone that he never tries to get you to look in his direction. Though his eyes often betray him, Jaehyun tries his best to maintain his distance. He never flirts, never praises you with romantic words, never steps out of line.

And you’re thankful for that because deep down you know, once he does, it will be hard to untangle yourself from his grasp.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Then...” Jaehyun closes his book, leaning closer. His dimples are so prominent when he grins, eyes turning into a beautiful pair of crescents. “How about we go try out some dumplings?”

It’s so sudden and random but once the idea sinks in, there’s only one thing you want to say. “Take me away, Jaehyun.”

It’s not about the food. It’s not about ignoring your problems, or the loneliness that’s drowning you a little bit more every day. It’s about enjoying the little things with someone who understands you, someone who doesn’t need to hold your hand to keep you warm. 

Someone who can finally let you breathe.

***

“I can’t believe it’s closed early,” you whine after you read the sign that’s strapped to the library’s front door. “And I was so excited to read the next chapter too.”

“What’s the book?” Jaehyun asks, adjusting the strap of his bag that hangs low on his shoulder.

“No Longer Human.”

“By Osamu Dazai?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve got a copy of that.”

“What, really?” The spark of glee that glimmer in your eyes catches him by surprise but he hides it behind a soft smile. “Can I borrow it? It’s such an old book, I can’t even find the e-book version of it.”

“Sure. Would you like to come over to my place?” The line makes your breath hitched in your throat and Jaehyun recognizes the faint blush that spreads on your cheeks. Mirroring your reaction, he hastily clears his throat, rubbing his nape as his face turns scarlet. “Or, uhh, I can just hand it over to you tomorrow.”

“No, it’s—” As you tuck your hair behind your ear, you notice your fingers are shaking. “I have—I’ve got time to spare. You have coffee at your place, right?”

His shoulders begin to relax and with a soft gaze, he reciprocates with an even tender smile. “If you’re alright with instant coffees.”

“Then lead the way.”

Jaehyun has this mature persona around him, like a caring big brother that calms you down but the second you arrive in his hallway, he fumbles with his words, his key slipping out of his fingers during his first try, and his nervousness starts to rub off on you.

It makes you wonder whether he’s feeling like he’s crossing the line, just as much as you are with Donghyuck’s name sitting on the front of your mind.

“Come in,” he invites, opening the door but keeping his eyes anywhere else but yours. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

His apartment smells just like him and it makes it hard for you to focus on anything else. But the second you’re able to sort that thought away, you realize something. He keeps his place minimalist and neat, just like the way he dresses and writes. Everything is organized properly with two paintings decorating his walls—ones that remind you of your grandmother’s house. “You really do have an old soul,” you playfully comment and he scrunches his nose at you in return.

It feels more familiar to step into Jaehyun’s apartment than your own because he has everything that you wanted and more. All the books sitting on his shelf, his collection of CDs, even the potpourri he has on his coffee table has the same scent with the one you’re planning to buy. 

“I know you said we have similar taste, but this…” You scan his bookshelf in awe, noticing how it almost covers his entire wall from how huge it is. He owns hundreds of books and everything is arranged alphabetically. “This is just taking it to another level. Are you sure you’re not my stalker?”

He simpers. “If I was, I wouldn’t have invited you here. Too much evidence.”

“Or maybe you’re just planning to keep me here with you forever.” When he doesn’t reply, you realize how wrong that line just sounded. “I’m sorry, was that a weird thing to say?”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Jaehyun waves you off, walking to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

The tension gradually starts to ease by the time you have a book in your lap, your eyes running from one passage to another. Sitting next to you, Jaehyun has his pen glued to his notepad again, his brown hair nearly looks golden as the sunset illuminates his face with such a warm, beautiful glow.

He really does look like a painting, you admire as you steal glances at him from behind your book. The perfect shape of his nose, his smooth skin, the way he’s so focused on his story, drowned inside his imagination… Maybe you’re being carried away, taken by his beauty, that your mouth begins to produce the words without thinking.

“Why do you look so sad?�� 

Jaehyun’s pen nearly slips from his fingertips. “What?”

“Sometimes you just look... so lonely and hurt,” you clarify although you’re growing more conscious of the way you’re crossing the line. “It feels like you’re forcing yourself to smile when you look at me...”

Jaehyun loses the ability to speak, even just blinking his eyes already seems like a stretch. But he sees something, the genuine curiosity and concern written in your eyes, that makes him avert his gaze away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he remarks, forcing himself to chuckle and you know that’s he’s showing you that smile again, even when you can barely make out his features.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe you’re just tired of him keeping secrets to himself when you’re sure they concern you. Maybe you’re just sick of seeing him like he’s on the verge of breaking apart without knowing the cause. Or perhaps it’s just your selfish way of saying, “I want you to smile, truly smile, because of me and no one else.”

But you find yourself reaching out a hand, your fingertips meeting the warm skin of his cheek, wanting him to turn his face around so you can see his expression. Jaehyun jolts, your name tumbles down his lips abruptly, his hand clamping against your wrist. “What are you doing?” His eyes are shaking as they bore deep into yours but yours are steady. Your eyes, your voice, your fingertips. They’ve never been this steady.

This is the first time you’ve been this close to him, to know how long his eyelashes really are, the way they flutter against his cheeks, the curve of his mouth, and the beauty mark on his pale skin. He’s possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever witnessed in person.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suddenly touch you like that.” You try to retract your hand, but he keeps his fingers around your wrist, hand hanging mid-air as he swallows his breath. Seeing him nervous makes you nervous. “Jaehyun, I won’t force you to say anything you don’t want to say, but…” You haven’t realized that you’ve been speaking in whispers, but Jaehyun has and his eyes soften just as much as yours do. “Please don’t pretend, not when you’re with me.”

Whether it’s from your words or the tenderness in your voice, you’re not sure, but Jaehyun releases your hand only so he can cup your cheek. He murmurs your name, so soft as if he’s telling a secret that he’s been dying to say. He leans forward, his breath is now fanning your cheek, and he’s so close, so close, and your eyes begin to shut when his lips faintly graze against yours—

The ringing sound of your phone blares through the room. 

Your entire movement stops but your heart runs a thousand miles per hour. It takes a good few seconds to come back to reality, and when you do, you’re not graceful at it. “Umm—” You glance away, breaking free from his touch. Your fingers are trembling hard when they retrieve your phone from the table. It has stopped ringing and a notification appears on your screen. The sight of your boyfriend’s name makes you feel like the floor is crumbling underneath you. “Sorry, it’s Donghyuck—I have to—It’s getting late, he must be looking for me.” Too embarrassed to see his face, you quickly gather your belongings into your arms, not even spending a few seconds to wear your coat back. “Thank you for inviting me. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” And you don’t wait for an answer, only forcing yourself to laugh which comes out as strained and pitchy, before you head toward the front door.

“Wait.” Jaehyun has his right hand pressing against the back of the door, shutting it close before you have the chance to let yourself out. You’re trapped between the door and his chest, making it harder for you to breathe. “Can you look at me?” He firmly orders but promptly adds a soft, “Please,” when you’re not brave enough to respond to him. 

You turn around, hugging your purse and your coat to your chest, facing him but not meeting his eyes. You can feel him analyzing your expression, feel how heavy his gaze is on your face. He bends down slightly, hand reaching out to frame your face like before but you flinch, eyes shutting tightly before he can make any contact.

You can’t see the look on his face as you are too frightened to do so, but you can tell how much you hurt him by the sound of his voice. “You forgot your book,” he states, handing a copy of Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human.

“O-oh, right.” You sound so nervous, so afraid, and you don’t know why. “It’s okay. I won’t be able to read at home anyway—”

“I want you to have it.” It’s the first time he loses the warmth in his voice when he speaks and if you’re not too clouded by your thoughts, if you weren’t so selfish, you would’ve tried your best to fix the situation. But not right now. Right now, you just want to disappear. You want to run back home, run into Donghyuck’s arms like how you’re supposed to be. 

Because this is wrong. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not when you have another man waiting for your return.

You take the book from his hand, noticing how your fingers brush his and how they stay that way for a little too long, but Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes and you’re still not sure why you’re on the verge of crying.

“Don’t be. It was my fault.” He notices your emotions, he always does, and it breaks you apart to know how much you’re breaking him right now. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nothing happened,” you convince him, shaking your head and will your tears to go away before they fall down your cheeks. “We didn’t do anything.”

Jaehyun’s fingers curls, nails sinking into his palms as he tries his best to mask what he’s feeling. “You’re right,” he quietly repeats, “Nothing happened.”

***

“Where have you been?”

Your keys slip through your fingers at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice and you’re petrified, millions of thoughts running through your head as you try to come up with an excuse.

But why? Why do you have to come up with an excuse? “Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything.” Isn’t that what you said?

“Babe?”

You jump back a couple of steps when Donghyuck walks into your personal space with a frown breaking on his temple. He furrows his eyebrows deeper at your reaction. “You okay? You look kinda pale.”

“Yeah, umm—” You adjust the collar of your turtleneck shirt, suddenly feeling like you’re being choked. “It’s fine—I’m fine. I just had a long day at work.”

“Why didn’t you text me? I could’ve swung by to pick you up.”

You force yourself to smile at his offer. “Thank you. It’s okay, really. Were you waiting for me?”

“Well yeah, I wanted to eat dinner together. It’s been a while since we did that and I wanted to make it up to you.” He cutely pouts and you’re reminded of the reason why you’re so trapped under his spell. “Text me next time when you’re about to come home late so I don’t have to wait for you.”

There it is. It strikes again. The feeling of loneliness. Curling your fingers at the hem of your shirt, you weakly reply with, “I’m sorry.”

Because out of the millions of thoughts that run through your head, that’s the only thing you have the bravery to say out loud.

***

“Hyuck?” You call out, carding your fingers through his soft locks. Donghyuck has his head on your lap with his legs sprawled out, taking most of the couch. His eyes are glued to the screen of his Nintendo Switch, thumb moving frantically to land a new high score. “I think we need to talk.”

Donghyuck doesn't respond right away. After a few relentless movements of his thumbs, he shouts, “Fuck, not again! Goddamn, I gotta restart all over again.” You can see him renewing the game, picking a different character. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I just…” You’re nervous, feeling more so than the pain that swells in your chest from not being taken seriously. “It feels like we haven’t been spending time with each other. Properly, I mean.”

“We’re spending time together now, aren’t we?” He hisses when his character takes another damage from his opponent. “What, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

I want us to talk. I want us to laugh. I want us to listen to each other like we used to. “I’m not in the mood for movies right now.”

After taking another shot, Donghyuck groans. “Fuck this stupid game,” he grumbles, throwing his device to the coffee table. “You know what’s annoying? The fact that I could land a perfect high score when I was drunk as fuck but now, I can’t even get into top three!”

Your patience is growing thin, but even then, you can’t find the strength to confront him properly. “Hyuck…”

“Right, sorry.” He heaves a sigh, rubbing his head as he sits straight up, facing you properly. “What is it? Is there something wrong?”

You meet his gaze and you realize how rarely you stand in this position, with him looking directly at your face with concern in his eyes. Now that he’s paying you full attention, your vocabulary turns into a blank slate. Your lips are parted but your voice is nowhere to be found, as it is hidden by the fear of speaking beyond control once you let your emotions run loose. 

“I…” You begin, clearing your throat to sound less anxious. “Are you happy with me?”

He knits his eyebrows together. “Of course, I’m happy. What are you talking about? Have I done something to upset you?”

“No, it’s…” Your hands lay rigid on your lap, fingers tightening around each other. You weakly smile. “Nothing. I guess I just had some weird thoughts popping in my head.”

“Look, I promise you I’ll do the laundry this weekend,” he confidently convinces you, as if that was the problem you’re currently facing. He pokes you on the nose, grinning boyishly. “Stop acting so weird, you’re creeping me out. What else are you thinking about? If it’s sex you want, you just gotta ask. You know I’m down with it anytime you want.”

“Yeah, of course…” You can force yourself to laugh but every sound you make feels like a knife piercing against your heart. “Sorry, I was just being stupid. You can ignore me.”

“I won’t ignore you, how can I do that? Not when you’re this cute.” He giggles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. But his affection does not make the butterflies in your stomach come alive. It makes hot tears threatening to appear in your eyes. “I like your sweater,” Donghyuck coos, “Is it new?”

No, this is my third time wearing it in front of you. “Yes. I’m glad you noticed.”

“I always notice everything about you.” He ruffles your hair as he stands up, stretching out his arms above his head. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about? ‘Cause I’m dead tired.”

“No. Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime, babe.” He bends his head down to kiss you fully on the mouth, tongue running along your lower lip just to tease like usual. When he pulls away, he has his juvenile grin intact. “Well, I’m going to bed. If I wake up late tomorrow, you can re-heat the food. I’ve stored everything in the fridge.”

Donghyuck disappears behind the door before you can finish saying good night.

***

The sun’s about to set… He must have been there already.

It has been two days since you last saw Jaehyun. You know you’re not being fair avoiding him like this, but you don’t know what else to do. You’re not brave enough to face him after that. Have you been giving him signs? Was it your fault, was it the expression you made, was it the words you spoke, that made him lean towards you, asking for a kiss that you were more than eager to give?

“Hey, babe,” Lee Donghyuck chirps against your ear, arms finding their way to circle your waist, pulling you to his lap. “What are you doing?”

You’re successful at hiding your surprise but knowing it’s Donghyuck, anything will probably pass by without him realizing. Even when you have spent the last fifteen minutes reading the same paragraph in your book over and over again as your thoughts drift somewhere else. 

You have a boyfriend and it’s not Jaehyun. Donghyuck is everything to you now, isn’t he? Yet, if you hadn’t been interrupted by that phone call, you were sure you would’ve yielded to Jaehyun’s touch.

“Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything.”

You’re disgusted with yourself.

You throw a glance to the side, your nose nearly brushing his as Donghyuck settles his chin on your shoulder. Unlike Jaehyun who has a fresh, masculine scent, Donghyuck smells like summer and lilacs under the sun. It’s comforting and sweet, yet even after two years, it stills feels somewhat unfamiliar to you.

“Reading a book.” You shiver when he pushes your hair away, placing a lazy wet kiss on your nape, lips parted and tongue pressing against the skin. “Hyuck…”

“It’s okay, keep reading.” Whenever his mouth makes contact with your skin, he adds a hum or a moan to make sure you know that despite his words, he’s not giving you the chance to continue. “You want us to spend more time together, don’t you?”

You deeply exhale, staring lifelessly at the ceiling, sensitive skin being caressed but none of his touches pumps desire through your veins. Since when did I stop wanting him this way? You wonder, feeling guilty when Jaehyun’s face appears in the corner of your mind once more.

“Baby,” Donghyuck murmurs seductively against the skin, thin fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your navel. “Hasn’t it been a while since we last did it?”

“It’s only been a week.”

“And that’s a week too long. I want you.” He strokes your cheek, guiding you to meet his eyes. “Can I touch you?”

It’s a rhetorical question since you both know you can’t say no when he demands something from you. “Of course.”

Donghyuck’s lips still taste the same, feel the same as they suck bruises on your delicate skin but the sparks are no longer there. He used to make you squirm with excitement, body begging under temptation. Sex used to be an adventure, a way for him to make you lose your mind, to have you gasping his name between moans, nails clawing against his back, thighs trembling under his fingertips.

Right now, sex is just… another glue to keep your relationship in place.

Clothes are discarded on the floor, and Donghyuck is sitting with you on his lap, his spine pressed against the couch, nails digging into your hips as he brings you down to take him inch-by-inch. He hisses when he feels you engulfing him with your warmth, head thrown back with lips parted in a blissful moan.

“No matter how much we’ve done it,” he chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “I can never get enough of the way you’re taking me so well, baby.” Donghyuck is a very passionate lover and his lips love to praise, both by words and kisses. The way he calls your name, the way he whispers, “You feel so good around me,” often makes you wonder whether there would be any other man who will desire you this much. But is it love? Does he love you? 

Do you love him? 

You’re not sure. You don’t know yet. But you know he plays a huge part in your life. Donghyuck once added a spectrum of colors into your previously dull, monochromatic life. You care about him, think about him more than you should, even putting his needs and priorities above yours.

If that’s not love, then what is it?

“Donghyuck…” You flinch when he rocks his hips up, a bit too rough and forceful as he’s getting impatient with the pace you’re going. “I—I think I love you.”

It surprises you that these words can leave your lips but you don’t regret it. It’s the right thing to do, saying these words to him. It’s only natural after the amount of time you’ve spent with him. It’s a way to bridge the gap between you and him, to reignite the flame, to bring laughter back into your life. 

To fix the mistake you just made two days ago.

But maybe his thoughts are too clouded with lust, maybe your words are too quiet for him to hear, or maybe you haven’t said the words at all and everything is just playing inside your imagination but no matter what the reason is, Donghyuck doesn’t answer. The words that escape his lips are obscene, a sign that he’s about to finish and you let him pull you closer to his chest, let him sink his face in the crook of your neck, let him groan and release everything inside because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Did you get to come?” He asks, breathless and flushed when he’s finished. His bangs are glued to his temple, sun-kissed skin glistening with sweat and when he strokes your cheekbone with his fingers, they tremble from the pleasure that washed through his body.

“Yes.” You didn’t. You haven’t in a while. It’s not because you didn’t enjoy it. Donghyuck still moved in the way you wanted him to—in the way that used to untie the knots in your stomach, almost making you cry from how good it was. But you’ve begun to realize that there was a part of you missing and Donghyuck isn’t the right piece to complete the puzzle. 

Jaehyun.

The dread of having another man’s name running through your head is so much, it almost makes you vomit your insides. 

“Hyuck.”

“Yes, baby?”

“I said I love you.”

There’s no going around it this time. You’ve said the words, you’ve pronounced them loud and clear but when Donghyuck still doesn’t say anything, you wish the earth could swallow you whole. “Can you… say something, please…?”

“Baby,” he sighs, fingers framing your face so gently, it hurts you. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s not that I don’t love you but—”

You’re stunned, shocked to your core at the incoming rejection but… that’s it.

You don’t feel anything. How can you not feel anything? You don’t feel hurt, you’re not disappointed, you’re just…

Relieved.

“Baby, are you listening?” Donghyuck calls again, grabbing you by your chin so he can peer into your eyes. “I like you. I really do like you. I like you so much but love is such a big word and for me to be committed that way is just… I don’t know, I haven’t figured out my feelings yet. I don’t even understand what love is. I just—I need more time.”

You’re lost for words. How can you tell him? How can you say that you’re so relieved he doesn’t love you back? How can you tell him that his action does not break you apart, but only makes you realize that you’ve just been forcing yourself to stay with him because it feels like it’s the right thing to do?

What if you’re just staying with him because you’re so afraid of being alone, not knowing that loneliness is the only thing he can offer you in return?

“I understand,” you quietly reply, climbing off his lap. Your knees wobble slightly under your weight as your mind travels somewhere else. You gather your clothes into your arms, placing them back on your body.

Donghyuck frowns at your reaction, calling your name as he stands up and pulls his jeans back to place. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you by saying it when I still don’t truly mean it the way you do.”

You can’t look at him, can’t meet his eyes when you can’t even understand how you feel. “I get it, Hyuck, it’s fine.”

But maybe Donghyuck is taking it the wrong way because his voice is laced with both exhaustion and desperation to make this feel any less terrible. “Babe, can we just talk—”

“I said, I’m fine!” You turn around to face him, head dizzy and heart palpitating. It scares you. It scares you that after all this time thinking Donghyuck was the one for you—all the things you’ve done, all the memories you’ve shared—you still don’t understand your feelings for him. You loved him once, you’re sure you loved him once. But is it love if the feeling isn’t eternal? Can you call it love when it fleets by so fast, disappearing without a trace as if it’s never existed in the first place?

To think that these two years you have spent with him would amount to nothing...

You take a deep breath, wishing your body and voice to stop shaking. When you look him in the eyes, there’s nothing but certainty written in your eyes. “You’re right, we need to talk.”

Donghyuck walks to your spot, hand resting against your waist, another one framing your cheek. “Please don’t be mad,” he whispers, and for the first time in the last few months, he does look sorry. “I’m happy to hear you say those words, I really do, but—”

“I want to break up.”

He freezes, jaw dropping low. “What?” 

“I want to break up with you, Donghyuck.”

“What—why—” His eyebrows are sewn together, and you take his hand away from your face, breaking free from his hold. “You’re breaking up with me because I can’t say I love you too?”

“No.” You exhale. “I’m breaking up with you because I feel fine with you not saying it back.”

He stands in silence, then his forced chuckles fill the air. “Babe, what are you talking about—”

“Are you happy with me?” The tremble in your voice has receded. “Be honest. Are you truly happy with me? Or are you just going along with everything because you’re so comfortable—so used to the situation of being with me—that you start to think as long as I’m not hurt, it’s fine. As long as I’m not alone, I can keep going with this relationship, even when I’m with someone who doesn’t truly understand me. Or accept the real me.”

Donghyuck releases the breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. His voice is a pitch lower when he speaks, bitter and hurt. “Is that how you feel? All this time when we’re together?”

“No.” Your heart still breaks at the sight of his face. “I think I really did love you once, Hyuck. And if you had rejected me a few months earlier, I would’ve probably broken down crying. But now…” You grow stiff, noticing the infuriated look that’s plastered on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck stays mute and the silence only adds more tension to the atmosphere. His teeth are grinding against each other when he replies. “Why did you even say you loved me if you weren’t fucking sure about how you felt?”

You twist your finger in the hemline of your shirt, in dire need of something to keep your emotions collected. “I thought it would make us grow closer again. To fix what’s lost between us,” you weakly admit, heart throbbing and breaking at the sight of him. “But then I realized that we shouldn’t say we love someone just because we have to. We should say it because we want to. Because we truly feel that way. But I didn’t feel anything when you didn’t say it back. I only felt… relieved.” 

The enraged look on his face forces you to drag your eyes to your feet and you stay still, breathing as quietly as possible. It’s only when Donghyuck starts to reach for his jacket, muttering, “I’m not having any of these bullshits,” as he walks passes you that you dare to look in his direction.

“How easy for you to put this all on me,” he declares with his fingers lingering on the doorknob, so spitefully it shocks you. “You probably think I’m dumb and insensitive, but I know. I’ve noticed the way you changed ever since you met him.”

“What?” His words feel like a slap to the face. “I don’t—”

“You know,” he cynically laughs into the air, throwing his head back. “Just because you found someone who makes you happy ‘cause he can quote your favorite lines, read your favorite books or listen to the same shit you like, doesn’t mean you can throw me away like I’m some fucking garbage.”

You’re petrified by his words. Somewhere in your head, you keep saying that the reason why you’re breaking up with him is that you’re so different from each other—that there would be little to no chance for the two of you to understand one another even if you’re given all the time in the world. But you can’t deny that there’s a part of you that completely rejects Donghyuck simply because you’ve stopped wanting him as much as you want Jaehyun. 

It sickens you.

“I’m…” It’s suffocating. The tension in the air, his eyes, the way your heartbeat is ramming against your ribcages. “I’m sorry...”

Your apology only aggravates him more and with gritted teeth, Donghyuck slams the door behind him, leaving you alone in the silence of your room.

Your apartment has never felt this big before.

***

It’s funny how you just ended your two years relationship with your boyfriend but Donghyuck isn’t the one you’ve been avoiding for months. It’s Jaehyun.

Something is gnawing at you from the inside, the feeling of guilt as if you just sinned. You didn’t cheat on your boyfriend. Physically, you didn’t. You’re attracted to Jaehyun, everybody would be to someone who owns such a handsome face and delicate features. But it’s more than just physical attraction because when you lay at night in your bed, alone and empty, it’s not his face that comes to mind. It’s the little thing he does, the way he listens to your words so attentively, the way he smiles—happy and sad at the same time, the way he greets you, the way he nibbles at his lower lip as he tries to think of a word to write on his note. 

And the dreams.

The dreams never stop, they only grow stronger. You can remember each and every one of them crystal clear when you wake up. They’re usually different every night but for the last few days, the atmosphere and the surroundings were the same. 

In the dream, you were lying down in a hospital bed, wearing nothing but your white gown, too weak to even lift a finger. Jaehyun was sitting on a wooden chair with a book in his hand—the one that he presented you as a gift in real life—while his other hand was holding yours, thumb tenderly gliding against your knuckles. He seemed much thinner, cheekbones growing prominent with dark eye-bags tainting his pale skin. But his smile was the same, just as warm, just as tender.

He was reading you a story, one that you had memorized by heart from how many times you’ve read it. But it’s different when he read the words out loud, voice melodious and soothing, like a mother’s lullaby. When it was over, he beamed at you, asking, “What’s your favorite part of the story?” And you opened your mouth but no words could come out. You were losing your voice, could only make croaking sounds and even that already put a strain on your body. You could see how much it broke him to hear you struggle but he waited patiently, hand squeezing yours tighter. 

“Me too,” he responded after he heard your answer, kissing your knuckles. “I like that one too.”

In another dream, you saw him sitting at the edge of your bed, his mouth still formed that beautiful, delicate smile, but his eyes were as heavy as the storm. You asked him, why, what’s wrong, trying your best to let your voice break free from your mouth. He brushed his fingers against your cheek, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I won’t let anything separates us,” he said and it felt more like a promise than how it sounded. “Not time, not death, nothing. I will always be with you.” He let his lips linger on your temple as he whispered the next words. “So it’s okay if you want to sleep. I won’t be going anywhere.”

Then… I’ll see you again when I wake up.

“Yes.” He leaned closer, letting his lips meet your chapped ones in a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

But by the time you opened your eyes, heart thrumming loudly inside your chest, with the sound of the alarm in your phone muffled by your pillow, you knew that in the dream, once you go to sleep, you’d never be able to wake up.

I have to see him.

***

Three months have passed since you last saw him. It’s funny that despite how close you are to each other, know each other like the back of your hand, you just only realize now that you haven’t given him a way to contact you. No home address. No phone numbers. No social media. You’re not even sure what his last name was. You never needed to know his contact details before. Every day, an hour before the sun is replaced by the moon, you will meet each other here in this library—that was the unspoken promise between you and neither of you ever broke it. Not until now. The second you stop coming to the library, you disappear from his life as well, as easy as snapping your fingers.

The quickest way to see him is by visiting the library. Today you will see him. You just have to.

It’s raining hard, hard enough to drench you to your socks, painting shivers to each of your fingertips. It’s a Sunday evening, the sun is an hour away from setting behind the horizon. But with how heavy the rain is going, the day will turn into the night before the sun can shine its light through the clouds again.

Hesitation arises within you as you take shelter on the porch, your shivering fingers circling the doorknob to the library. He might not even be here in this kind of weather, you miserably think to yourself. It wasn’t raining when you took your leave half an hour earlier but you should’ve noticed how thick and dark the clouds were. Your thoughts were too jumbled that you didn’t even think about carrying an umbrella with you.

But you’re already here and if he still keeps his promise…

You take a step inside.

Your clothes are drenched but thankfully they’re not dripping water to the carpeted floor. It’s warmer inside, so warm that you feel like you’re home, sitting close to a fireplace, basking in the scent of sandalwood. Your eyes naturally scan the room, taking a longer glance at the table where you usually sit in front of him, a book in your hands, a smile strapped to your face. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be seen.

He’s not here. Is it because of the rain? Or… Maybe he has stopped coming here to see me. 

You can only realize how important someone is to you when they’re gone and it hurts so much that you have to nip at your lower lip, fingers curling around the end of your sweater. 

I want to see him again…

“You’re here…”

You turn your head to the source of his voice, heart about to burst when you see Jaehyun stopping on his tracks, one hand holding the entrance door open, another one carrying a folded umbrella that drips water to the floor. He’s so stunned at the sight of you, he doesn’t even appear to be breathing. In a whisper, your name breaks free from his lips.

And you run towards him with all your might.

He nearly stumbles from how hard you’re crushing your body against his, his umbrella falling from his grip but he doesn’t push you away. Jaehyun is warm, warmer than everything you’ve ever held and you wonder whether you’re just freezing from the cold or he’s always been this comforting. It feels so natural to stay in his embrace, to be wrapped with his strong arms, to have him whisper your name against the shell of your ear. 

I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.

Jaehyun...

The first tear that slips down your cheek is an accident, as you don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t even know why you’re crying but you can’t stop. You sob against his chest, fingers curling against the fabric of his knitted sweater, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from crying harder but failing every time. 

Jaehyun never breaks away from your embrace. He does not care if people stare, does not listen to the murmurs being exchanged at the back of the room. He pulls you closer, one hand holding you around the waist and the other one stroking your damp hair. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he says, overwhelming you with his scent, his warmth, his voice, his everything and you still want more. His lips nearly brush against the tip of your ear when he whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

Your hands are now fisting the back of his sweater, pressing your cheek to his chest as you muffle your cry, focusing more on the sound of his heartbeat. It feels like a dream, one that you never want to wake up.

It’s only when you have the strength to pull away from him that he releases you. He swipes his thumb under your eye, erasing the stains of your tears. He looks at you in a way that is so different than the way Donghyuck used to. His gaze is softer, a mix between the feeling of relief for having you in his arms and a yearning to have more as if you’re still far away from his reach.

I want him to stare at me like this forever.

“You’re freezing,” he says, noticing the coldness of your cheek against his palm. “Would you like to come over to my place? I can make you something warm.”

You let out a tiny laugh. “That would be nice.”

***

Jaehyun’s sweater is too big that the hem falls to the middle of your thighs. Your clothes are in the dryer, making rumbling noise that’s loud enough to fill the awkward silence between you. Drying your hair with a towel he gave you, you take a seat next to him, careful enough not to invade his personal space too much.

“How are you feeling?” Jaehyun asks, handing you a cup of hot chocolate.

“Warmer now, thanks.” You wrap your fingers around the mug, seeing a cloud of steam erupting from your drink. 

“It’s been a while since we last saw each other. I’m glad you look fine.” 

“I am. I feel fine. More so than I’ve ever been.” And it’s not a lie. Being here with him, despite everything that happened, makes you feel at ease. He makes you feel as if you had been embarking on a trip for so long and now you’re finally home. “Were you, umm…” Were you planning to wait for me at the library? Have you been waiting for me all this time? Or was it just a mere coincidence that we bumped into each other again?

“Were I what?”

“Never mind.” You don’t have the bravery to do it. Flushed, you quickly take a sip of your drink.

“I was about to wait for you,” he suddenly confesses, nearly making you choke. “I was… worried about you. I kept wondering whether something bad happened.” His voice gradually turns into murmurs as he continues. “And I thought... After what happened... You hated me.”

The ticking sound of the clock echoes like thunder when silence hangs in the room. “I would never hate you, Jaehyun…” You’re unconsciously rubbing the edge of your mug with your thumb, eyes fixated on the glass instead of him. “There’s no way I could hate you.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see him turning his head to face you. “Well, you stopped visiting for three months without leaving a word. It was hard for me to stay positive,” he says, a bit teasingly, “And I had no idea how to contact you either. I didn’t know what else to do but wait in the library every day until I could see you again. So that’s what I did.”

Blood is rushing to your face. He did wait for me. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He chuckles and you just realized how much you missed hearing it. “You don’t need to. I’m glad we can meet again.”

“Me too.” You mirror his smile. “You know, you could’ve just looked me up online.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” He asks and your heart stops. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You have to tell him the truth, you owe him that much. “I couldn’t. The way Donghyuck looked at me when I broke up with him made me feel so guilty and I knew I would hate myself even more if I ran back to you right after.”

“Why?” Jaehyun questions in a whisper. “What did you feel guilty for?”

Your heartbeat roars so thunderously loud, you can hear it in your ears. “Because he said the reason why I broke up with him was that… I had feelings for you.”

Jaehyun stays in silence for a few seconds and it drives you insane. Eventually, he leans forward to lay his cup down on the coffee table. “So…” He hesitantly speaks. “Did you tell him he was wrong about that?”

You tighten your hold around your cup. “I…” Taking a deep breath, you confess. “I didn’t.”

And there are so many things to be said, but none of you dares to speak. The silence is deafening, its invisible arms strangling you little by little and you’re trapped, not knowing whether to ask him to respond or just run away before your heart explodes to pieces.

Jaehyun does that look again where he stares at you like you own his heart, giving you the permission to hold it or crush it however you like. “Your hair is still dripping water,” he says, reaching out to place his hands around the towel and gently dab your strands, squeezing out the excess water and he’s so close, you can truly see the color of his eyes. In the soft, yellowish light of his room, they’re a little bit darker, a stark contrast to his pale skin. You’re distracted with the way his eyes shimmer under the light, the way he breathes so softly, warm breath hitting your lips.

And you don’t know who initiate it, but for the next breath you take, you’re gasping for it against his mouth. Jaehyun’s lips move slow against yours, tentative and patient, waiting for you to react. But he doesn’t have to wait, not when you’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Not when both of you have been wishing for it to happen.

If your mind wasn’t too deluded with the thoughts of him, how he feels against your body, how he tastes on your tongue, how the low grunt and moan that escape from the back of his throat successfully send shivers down your spine, you would’ve probably thought about how different he was compared to Donghyuck. Jaehyun was so tender, cradling your figure so gently as if you were about to break into pieces if he moves too fast. His kisses aren’t as rushed and bruising as Donghyuck’s, but they’re deep and just as passionate, if not more. The effects that his lips have on your skin burn stronger than anything you’ve ever felt. And if you thought Donghyuck reminded you of the sun, Jaehyun was the blazing sun himself.

But you couldn’t think of Donghyuck. You can’t think of anything else but Jaehyun. Right now, he’s the only one that matters.

“Push me away anytime you want,” he says, eyes dark and hazy, as he circles a hand around your waist to press your body flat against his chest.

With one hand fisting his collar, you let your lips taste him once more. “I never want you to.”

Your soft gasp is muffled by the skin of his neck when Jaehyun lifts your body off the couch, and you tangle your legs around his waist for support as he carries you toward his bedroom. Despite the growing, overwhelming passion between you, he lies you down so gently on the bed, hovering above you as he paints your name at the skin below your ear. You let out a sigh, pulling him closer and closer until you can sink completely into his warmth. 

No words are being exchanged because they don’t need to. Jaehyun speaks with his eyes, expresses his feelings with his lips, and carves your body with nothing but affection and adoration with his gentle hands. It amazes you how different sex can feel when there are feelings involved. It’s a connection, not just between your body and his but your mind, your soul, and every bit of your heart.

You’re more sensitive to his touch that even the slightest slide of his finger can make you arch your back. Jaehyun swallows every gasp, every moan of his name that tumbles down your lips and you do just the same with his.

He only stops to give you the chance to catch your breath when he’s fully sheathed inside you. His fingers tremble as they caress your face. “Are you okay?” He asks, sounding breathless and hoarse. He looks even more beautiful like this, skin glistening with sweat, lips bruised and swollen by kisses, pale cheeks reddening at the feeling of you peering into his eyes.

You smile, gaze softening. “I’m fine.”

Jaehyun has never looked so content before, so relieved, so happy and it makes you feel something in your stomach—something that you haven’t felt for months—to know that you’re the reason behind his most genuine, beautiful smile. When he whispers, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me,” into your ear, you know that he’s not talking about the time you were absent from the library. His words have more weight to them as if he’s been waiting for you for years as if you once belonged to him before something separated the strings between you.

“I’m going to move, okay?” Jaehyun murmurs against your lips, and you let out a shaky breath, nodding a little.

He takes it slow, waiting for you to adjust to his rhythm as he keeps his eyes on your expression to make sure he’s not hurting you in any way. His eyes are half-lidded, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a small moan, barely audible. He splays one hand on the inner part of your thigh, fingers pressing hard against the supple skin as he pins it down to the bed, spreading your legs wider so he can press himself deeper inside you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against your jawline. “So beautiful…”

You nibble at your lip, circling your arms around his shoulders, raking your nails down his back as he picks up the pace. He’s perfect, he’s so perfect at everything he does—the sway of his hips, the angle, the way he changes from giving shallow to deep thrusts in accordance to your expression, knowing exactly what you need. 

He kisses you every time you give him the chance and it makes everything a lot more intimate, makes you feel more vulnerable, makes you feel more exposed. “I’m in love with you,” he says, forehead pressing against your own. “I’ve always been… All this time…”

There’s a surge of joy washing through your entire body and it’s so intense, you find yourself hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your vision blurred with tears. How can you feel so complete when this is your first time with him?

“Jae—” You gasp, your thighs trembling as you wrap your legs around his hips, arms hugging his shoulders tighter. “Jaehyun, I’m—I’m close—”

At your words, Jaehyun untangles your arms from his body and sits on his heels. He takes a hold of your waist and slams his hips harder to yours, driving you to the edge until you’re left sobbing against the sheets. He pulls away on the last second to finish himself off, tainting your stomach as a low grunt breaks free from the back of his throat. His bangs are falling over his eyes, a bead of sweat rolling down from his chest to his lean stomach and he still looks like a painting, one that you can’t seem to stop admiring.

“Wait, don’t move,” he says as if you had the strength to do so. “I’ll clean you up.”

When he comes back from the bathroom, fully clothed in a white tee and black sweat pants, he takes care of you so attentively, dabbing warm towel along your skin, swatting the bangs out of your eyes. A gentle smile never leaves his face but he blushes whenever your eyes make eye contact, though not as apparent as the shakes on his fingertips. 

“You’re so good at this,” you tease him, propping your elbows on the bed. “Must have a lot of experience with women, I’m sure.”

“I’ve only ever been with you,” he answers and it doesn’t sound like a lie.

“What?”

His movement stops, acknowledging the appalled look on your face. “There’s… something you need to know.” He slips under the comforter, lying down on his side, and makes sure it covers your body to your shoulders to keep you warm. “That day, when we first met… It wasn’t our first time meeting each other.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows are adjoined in the middle. “When did we first meet then?”

Jaehyun falls quiet, eyes searching yours. “In the same library,” he says, “Seventy-four years ago.”

***

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips as you scan your surroundings. Jaehyun has taken you somewhere you haven’t been before, a rural area in the foothills of Jiri Mountain. After spending more than three hours drive from Seoul, seeing nothing but never-ending roads and traffic signs, it feels refreshing to see a charming little village, blanketed in a snow of white and soft pink, with the sound of water streams soothing your ears and cold wind of April caressing your cheeks.

“Hwagae,” he claims, his hand never leaving yours as he walks next to you, taking shorter strides to match your step. “People usually think that Jinhae is the best place to see cherry blossoms, but for me, it’s here.” He glances at the way your fingers are intertwined with his, smiling timidly to himself. “But maybe due to personal reasons.”

“Well, you’re not lying…” You murmur in awe, eyes widening at the sight of cherry blossoms trees that line the road, following both sides of a turquoise-blue stream, pebbles whisked about in the under wash like pieces of glitter. “It’s beautiful.”

You can hardly pay attention to anything else so when Jaehyun presses a kiss against your hairline, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. “It is, isn’t it?” He says, pushing some loose strands behind your ear. “Beautiful.”

With his eyes locked with yours, it seems like he’s praising something else and you look away, cheeks heating up at his words. “How long does this road goes?”

“Around four kilometers.” Jaehyun follows your steps. “There are more than a thousand cherry blossom trees around. Locals call this lane the Marriage Road as it is said that lovers who walk hand-in-hand under the trees will get married and live happily ever after.”

He tightens his grips around your hand, and you can swear your palm is getting sweaty from how nervous you are. “You just can’t stop making me blush, can you?”

“I’m just stating out facts.” He chuckles and it’s even more beautiful than the whole scenery. He’s more beautiful than anything you’ve seen. But when he speaks, all trace of humor has dissipated. “You may not remember but... This was the place where I asked you to marry me.”

You have seen it coming but it still shocks you, nonetheless. It’s easier to treat him as a liar who’s telling superstitious stories and pointing things about you because he’s a stalker that knows more about you than he should. But the more he tells his stories, the more they feel like the truth and it’s not just a hunch. His stories are his versions of the dreams you’ve been having. The dreams that you’ve gotten ever since you first met him, and you never told anyone about that.

As you take a seat on the nearest bench, Jaehyun hands you his journal—the one he’s been using to write his novel. “I think it’s time for you to read the story.” But as you reach out to open it, he lays his hand on top of yours. “Before that,” he says, “Remember what I asked you? I want you to guess the ending for me.”

You’ve never thought about it, never imagined how the ending of his story would unravel. He has told you that it was about a pair of lovers meeting each other by fate and separated tragically by death, you knew that much. But anything could’ve separated them, whether it was because of sickness, accident, or simply because of old age, you could’ve guessed wrong. Yet, when your lips moved without thinking, providing answers that make your heart jolt, Jaehyun smiles and says, “Correct.” He then opens the book and gives you the chance to run your eyes through every passage. It’s written in a first-person narrative, allowing you to see through Jaehyun’s eyes as he unveils his story. 

The female lead has your name.

Every line. Every word. Every description. They feel like deja vu and the tiny hairs at your nape begin to raise. Your fingertips tremble as they move to open new pages. These are memories. They truly happened in the past. As you read, you can feel your own coming back, little by little, and by the time you’re halfway through the story, you can guess the next part that’s about to happen or correct little details that may have slipped from his mind.

“They were lilies,” you say, fingers tracing his perfect handwriting. “Not white roses.”

“What?”

“The flowers you gave me on our first anniversary.”

Jaehyun takes a shaky breath, and when he chuckles it sounds like a peal of tiny laughter and a choked sob at the same time. “Is that so?” He weakly asks, fixing his gaze to his lap. “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten.”

But he remembers everything else, everything that matters, even the way he felt back then. You could tell the love he once experienced with you through his eyes, the longing he has suffered as he waits for you to remember him once more, and the agony of being separated from you.

It’s easier to cry than to breathe when the memories of your past life start to dawn on you but you provide your best effort to stay reserved. There are more you need to learn.

The reason why he visited the library was not because he lived nearby. He moved there so he could visit the library, as it was the first time he met you in the previous life. “I was hoping she would remember the place as it was something we both grew fond of,” Jaehyun wrote in his journal, “She always thought I had a passion for books. She was wrong. She was the one who taught me that stories could mean something more. That they could make you feel alive, make you feel something you’ve never experienced just by words. I’d like to believe that these stories were the ones who brought us together, so we could create our own and maybe then, we could inspire other people—to make them feel alive with our stories.

I waited for her every day, from one season to another. The memories I have of her have always been there with me ever since I could remember, but that did not guarantee hers would resurface. Maybe she was looking for me. Maybe she was not. Either way, I couldn’t give up. I would not give up. 

And finally, one day, I saw her again. In the same library, with the same little smile she always had whenever she had her eyes fixated on her book. She appeared exactly the same as the first time I met her 74 years ago. I could not breathe, trapped between reaching out to her or just standing still in the distance, because when our eyes met for a brief second, she looked away. 

She did not remember me.

I was crushed. Devastated. I was nothing but a stranger. Twenty-five years I had been searching for her and now that she stood before me, I lost the ability to speak. It took me another week until I could find the bravery within me. I tried my best to appear as nonchalant as possible, even when my heart was breaking, even when my hands were shaking. I sank my nails into my palms so I wouldn’t take her hand and pull her into my embrace. When she told me her name, I was shocked. Her last name was different but her first name was the same, and I wanted to laugh. Fate could be so cruel, letting her keep her name but not her memories. 

But memories could be re-created, and I learned that none of her habits had changed. I might be a stranger, but to me, she was not. She was my wife and I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her I love her and hear her say the words back to me. I was ready to start over, to make her fall in love with me once more but before I could even begin, I learned that she had belonged to someone else.

And what killed me was that… She did not look happy with him.”

Your breathing stalls. Everything makes sense now. He’s been holding everything to himself. This was the secret he kept from you. And that time when he almost kissed you… What did you say to him?

“Please don’t pretend, not when you’re with me.”

That’s what he did. He stopped pretending. 

And you pushed him away, treating both of your feelings and his like a mere high school crush when they were something deeper than anything you’ve ever had. 

You place your lower lip between your teeth, nibbling at it until it grows white. He must have been so hurt, you realize, I’m the worst.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asks, reaching out to take your hand. “You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I—” You shake your head, hoping the tears won’t fall. You give him a reassuring smile. “I want to. I need to remember.” Your smile doesn’t deceive him but he gives you the space you need, believing the honesty in your words.

Your marriage with him only lasted for four years before you passed away in your sleep, your weak lungs could no longer support your system, and through his story, you learned that Jaehyun followed you to the place he shouldn’t have. Because just a few minutes later after you took your final breath, he slit both of his wrists with a knife and hugged your body close to his chest, his blood drenching the white sheets underneath. His lips lingered against your hairline as he spoke, “I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

His neat handwriting starts to turn into dark splotches of ink as it is tainted by your tears. You’ve remembered. You’ve remembered everything. Everything that makes you happy and everything that hurts, you’re reliving each and every one of them. 

“Why?” You sob, shoulders quivering as you try to keep your emotions contained. “Why did you do that? You could’ve lived for many more years. Could’ve found someone else.” You bury your face in your palms, voice muffled by your skin. “You could’ve been happy without me.”

You can’t see how he looks at you, can’t feel his touch as he’s nowhere near, but you hear him take his breath. “My mother used to say,” he says, “that two people who are meant to be would always find their way to each other, even in the afterlife.” Jaehyun moves and kneels on the ground in front of you, his hands prying yours away from your face and his smile has never looked this blissful. “That’s why,” he continues, voice so soft it’s almost as light as the wind. “If there’s a chance, no matter how little it is, for me to see you again I would gladly trade my eternity for it.”

There are emotions you can’t explain, ones that you can’t understand. Emotions that make you cry as if the world was ending but also ones that make you feel so blessed to be born into this world, to be able to see him again, to witness his beautiful smile, his beautiful soul, and the beautiful love he has for you.

“Why are you crying?” Jaehyun chuckles softly but the quiver in his voice betrays him. He strokes your cheek, drying your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

Leaning into his touch, you sob against his palm, “I love you,” you confess, “I love you, Jaehyun. Even if my memories never came back, I’d still fall in love with you. Over and over again. I’m sorry you had to wait—”

Jaehyun abruptly stands on his knees, pulling you into his embrace. As your eyes widen in surprise, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, whispering, “If I had to wait a thousand years to be able to have this one moment with you, I’d gladly do it in a heartbeat.” His shoulders begin to shake and you wrap your arms around them, drenching the fabric of his shirt with your tears. “I love you too.”

There’s a voice inside your head that says, ah... so this is how it feels. 

Love... is not so complex after all. It doesn’t have to be. It’s not something to be understood. It’s not something to be thought endlessly. It’s not a choice to be made.

It’s a feeling, and feelings are meant to be felt. And you realize that happiness does not only emerge when your love is answered with the same passion. Happiness is already there in your heart just by loving him. You love him. You just love him. Entirely. Infinitely. 

So you kiss him with the biggest smile you can make, you pull him close with every strength that you have and you let him stay. In this life or another, you will let him stay.

And you will see him again when you wake up.

***

[reidamancy]

too late || spencer reid

summary: Spencer and you never got closure after you broke up. But hidden feelings and confessions reveal themselves when you’ve been abducted. Now Spencer is forced to analyze a voicemail you left for him to try and save you before it’s too late. (spencer reid x fem!reader)

category: angst

warnings: s2 spoilers, kidnapping, knife and gun usage, slight mentions of blood and drugs, plot holes, probably incorrect medical info

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this is my very first cm fic, and I’m completely new to the fandom so I hope there are still people out there who read cm fics lol

MASTERLIST

(part one | part two)

Spencer’s POV

“Spencer?” Her voice breathed shakily through the voicemail.

Y/N. I recognized her voice immediately. For a split second I was filled with bliss just from the sound of her voice, but my heart dropped when I recognized the terror laced in her words.

She paused for a bit before continuing. “Hi, it’s me. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now,” She choked on a sob, but little did she know that was furthest from the truth. “But I didn’t know who else to call.” Another pause. 

I leaned forward in my seat, resting my arms on my desk while listening intently to the message. 

“I... I’m in trouble Spencer. I don’t know who he is. He took me from my car and brought me here. He made me call you because he knows,” She took a deep breath before letting out a sob. “He knows you will never save me in time.” By now, her voice came out as a squeak. My breath caught in my throat as my worst nightmare came true.

“No, Spencer, wait, please listen to me.” I shut my eyes and exhaled. I pinched the bridge of my nose; she must have had to pretended I answered the phone, and I wasn’t there when she needed me most.

She sniffled on the phone and continued.

“I don’t know how much time I have left... So I guess this is goodbye Spencer...” I felt my heart shatter as tears pricked my eyes. 

“When we met, I knew exactly where I was in life. But you, you changed that. You taught me so much, Spencer. I remember all the games we'd play when you were home.” Y/N paused as she left out a sigh. A sad smile crept on my face as I recalled our shared competitive nature and the countless games that sprung from it. I could only imagine her expression mirroring my own as she spoke. “You'd always win but I guess that's what happens when you play against Dr. Reid. I still think you forgot two dozen names just to let me win.” She let out a dry laugh. 

“The last time I saw you was on our anniversary, June 6. 9:30 on the dot. And then you abandoned me Spencer, you left me alone in the big, cold world.” She took a breath and I let out a small gasp when I heard the sound of a gun cocking in the background.

“I told myself I'd never forgive you, but the truth is I already have. I can't leave without you knowing that. Please save me, Spencer.” She whispered the last line before the phone was yanked out of her hands, evident by the small yelp and shuffling I heard, and the voicemail ended with a low growl saying, “You’ll never get here in time.”

The voicemail ended and the fear I felt from before melted into rage. I knew exactly what I had to do. Phone in hand, I marched straight into Hotch’s office.

Reader’s POV

The man snatched the phone out of my hands and quickly hung up on the call before redirecting his gun at me. He had it pointed at me the entire call and cocked it once he was getting impatient.

The worst part was he didn’t bother to hide his face. He had bound my arms and legs together, but never blinded me. I knew exactly where I was and who he was, which only meant one thing: I wasn’t getting out of here alive. 

My abductor shot at the ground and I let out a scream. “That was a bit long now, wasn’t it?” He sneered.

“You’re gonna kill me! I had to say goodbye properly!” I sobbed. 

It was partly true. What he didn’t know, however, was the fact that I had an FBI agent for an ex-boyfriend, and a genius one at that. I haven’t spoken to him in months, but I prayed that he would understand the hidden clues I left in the voicemail. I hated how this was our first interaction since our breakup, but I needed him now more than ever. 

I’ve wanted to call him countless times; it’s almost ironic that it took a literal kidnapping for me to finally do so. In the wake of our breakup, I found myself completely miserable. I missed everything about him, and I caught myself staring at his phone number on my screen numerous times, contemplating if I should actually call him or not. I wanted to, I really wanted to. I wanted to tell him how much I missed his voice, his touch, his love. But every happy memory we had would then be overshadowed by stronger memories of him snapping at me, being repulsed by my touch, and his mood swings. So I never got the courage to push the dial button. 

It was a never ending cycle. I’d want to call him; perhaps I wanted to try to fix things one more time. I knew something was wrong, maybe I could have done more to help him. But then I would realize I couldn’t help him unless he let me. So I’d always end up deleting the digits on my screen and hope he was doing okay. But days later I’d find myself punching in those exact digits once again, only to delete them minutes later. In time, I had memorized his number by heart, which is why it was almost instinctive to dial him today.

The fact that he was an FBI agent was the last thing on my mind when I pushed call. I just needed him, I needed Spencer. It felt wrong, after months without speaking I thought we had both moved on. But he was the first person I thought of when given an instrument to cry for help. And as soon as I heard his voicemail, as soon as I heard his voice, I realized I needed more than Dr. Reid. I needed Special Agent Reid.

I tried to remember everything I could from the few times Spencer would talk to me about his cases. If I could understand this unsub like he and his team could, maybe I could survive. But the more I remembered, the quicker I realized my chances of survival were slim. He’s way too confident for me to have been his first victim. He gave me the freedom to call whoever I wanted and say whatever I wanted, and he wouldn’t have done that if he knew he wouldn’t get caught. So the phone call must be part of his signature, but why? Why give that much freedom to his victims at all? Maybe he just likes to hear the pain in our voices when we say goodbye.

No, it has to be more than that. Right before I dialed Spencer, the man told me, “Make sure they answer.” And that’s when it hit me. He must take pleasure in knowing his victim’s loved ones are aware of what’s happening but can’t save them. He’s stripping them of their power to help, to save, their loved ones. I hope that isn’t the case for me. I didn’t want to call Spencer (okay, maybe deep down in my heart, I did), because he made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with me. But if anyone could save me, it was Spencer Reid.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when my abductor leaned in front of me, his putrid breath fanning over my face. I noticed his gun was now in his holster and one of his hands was behind his back. He slowly pulled it out to reveal a knife and he placed the blade against my arm. I winced as he put pressure against my skin, but not enough to draw blood.

“Now that... what was his name? Spencer?” He let out a low chuckle. “Now that Spencer knows you’re here, he’ll try to save you.” The unsub slowly dragged the knife up my arm, still not breaking the skin, and I let out a whimper. 

“He’ll tell the police, but they’ll be too late.” He taunted. “They always are.”

The man now used his knife to push hair out of my face. “While we wait... Let’s have some fun.” He sunk the knife into my shoulder and I let out a scream.

Spencer’s POV

As the case was presented to the team, I was paralyzed in my seat with the voicemail replaying over and over again in my head.

It’s me. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now.

I’ve been wanting to hear her voice for months, and when I finally do it’s because she was abducted. Even worse, she’s apologetic that she even has to call me. As if she’d ever have to apologize for speaking to me... 

“Reid?” Hotch’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I looked up at him and he repeated himself. “Will you analyze the voicemail for clues on Y/N’s location?”

I silently nodded. He turned to JJ and whispered to her to stay with me. Everyone then dispersed to do everything they could to bring Y/N back.

“Kid, who is this?” Morgan stayed behind and questioned me.

“Hm?” I questioned innocently. 

“Look, she could have called anyone in the world, but she called you. And you obviously care for her or else you wouldn’t be so quiet right now. So who is she?” Derek displayed concern in his eyes.

I let out a sigh. JJ took a seat in front of me and Morgan leaned against the table. My eyes were fixated on my hands, which were in my lap. “Her name’s Y/N. She was the one who got away.” I heard my voice crack, but I didn’t care. JJ and Morgan looked at me with sorrow as they listened to me open up about the love of my life. 

“I met her at the library. She saw I was checking out a book about physics and she gushed about how it was her favorite subject. We went on for 20 minutes talking about the subject, and then she asked me out for coffee.” I bit my lip.

“We started dating for a few months and everything was perfect. She didn’t mind my work schedule, and she listened to all my rambles. Sometimes she even had some facts of her own to add.” I recalled all the times Y/N would add to my fact spews instead of shutting me down, and I couldn’t stop the smile resulted from the memories. “She was perfect. In every way.”

I took a deep breath as my love story took a sour turn. “But then I... I started to push her away. After Tobias Hankel I pushed everyone away, but Y/N got it the worst. I was a horrible boyfriend, but she never gave up on me. She never knew why I was acting that way, but eventually I pushed her too far. We broke up because she thought I hated her. But I don’t. I never did.” I trailed off, remembering fragments of the last fight we had. I cringed as I remembered how broken her voice was, and how I continued to tear her down. I wasn’t in my right mind. If I could go back, I’d never let her leave that door. But in hindsight, I don’t blame her for leaving.

I quickly wiped the tears off my cheeks as Morgan rubbed my shoulder. JJ got up and hugged me. She lowered her face towards me and said, “We’re gonna save her, Spence. And when we do, you’re gonna tell her all of this.” She flashed me a kind smile.

“After I got off dilaudid, I realized I lost her, so I tried to get her back. I wanted to surprise her, so I went to the cafe we went to the day we met, and I saw her there. She was there with another guy... She had already moved on and I was too late. I never got to apologize to her.”

I didn't want to meddle in Y/N's new relationship. She had every right to move on. So I tried to as well. But it didn't hurt any less, especially since I never got to explain myself to her. I had accepted the fact that Y/N had moved on from me, but her voicemail gave me an ounce of hope. In the direst of circumstances I was the one she called. Perhaps it was because of my job, but I let myself hope that maybe I misread the situation. That man could have been a friend. And I could still have a chance.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

“Reid, I know this is hard. We all want to get Y/N back safe, but you’re the only one who can understand what she’s trying to tell us here. Think you can focus?” Morgan wanted to make sure my head was clear enough to analyze Y/N’s message. The truth was, I wasn’t sure.

But I nodded and played the voicemail again.

“June 6?” I repeated once the voicemail ended.

“Is that when the two of you met?” Morgan asked.

“No, that date doesn’t have any significance to us at all. June 6, 9:30? Why would she say that?” I wondered out loud as I wrote 6/6, 9:30 on the board. 

“Can you play it again?” I asked JJ.

When we met, I knew exactly where I was in life. 

“There right there, pause.” I knew that was a lie. “When we met, she was a graduate student but she didn’t know what to study. I helped her with that.”

“Okay, so she knows you can catch onto her lies. What is she trying to tell us?” JJ wondered out loud.

It was then that I realized what Y/N was doing. “This entire call is full of lies. She knew I’d catch onto them, but I don’t know what she’s saying.” 

Morgan jumped in, “Okay, so if you catch all of her lies, we’ll decode the message.” I nodded as JJ pressed play and I wrote down all the lies in the voicemail.

By the end of the call, my board looked like this:

6/6, 9:30

“knew where I was in life”

winning game - 2 dozen names?

“Okay, so what does this all mean, Reid?” Morgan asked. 

I stared at the board, trying to make a connection. “I don’t know...” I mumbled. I knew Y/N was trying to tell me something, and if I could figure it out I could save her. The thought gave me enough confidence to analyze her diction. “But did you hear the end of the call? She said I left her alone in the ‘big, cold world.’ It’s odd that she would describe it like that.”

“So she’s somewhere big and cold?” JJ chimed in.

“Probably...” I answered as I added to the board. 

“What about abandoned? Is that describing where she is or is this actually about your relationship?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t think she would use 'abandoned' to describe our relationship...” I bit my lip. I wouldn’t say I abandoned her, but I couldn’t help but wonder if that was how she actually felt. I cleared my throat. “That’s probably where she is. Big, cold, and abandoned.” 

“So what are we thinking, warehouse?” JJ inputted. 

Morgan nodded. “Okay, we’re getting somewhere. So does that mean when she said she knew exactly where she was in life, she meant she actually knew exactly where she was taken?”

“What about the game she talked about? What does that mean?” JJ asked.

“I never let her win any games, she insisted we both play fair and square.” I tried to think back to all the games we played. “She mentioned names... There was only one where we used names,” I held back a smile. “We were trying to see who would be the first to name all the U.S. presidents.”

Morgan and JJ looked at each other. “Why am I not surprised.” Morgan let out a small chuckle.

“But you forgot two dozen names?” JJ questioned.

“Two dozen is specific... and Reid doesn’t forget.” Morgan thought out loud.

I tried to remember more about the game. “I won that game. I was the first to put down my pencil and she teased me for it. But she wanted to finish her list so I’d give her clues to who she forgot... But there was one name she just couldn’t remember.”

“Two dozen... Did it happen to be the 24th president?” JJ wondered.

I let out a small smile. Clever girl. “Yeah, it was Grover Cleveland. The 24th president.”

I now looked at my new board, filled with new information.

6/6, 9:30

“knew where I was in life” am

winning game - 2 dozen names? ➝ Cleveland!

big, cold

abandoned

warehouse?

My head was swirling, trying to make sense of what Y/N gave me. My eyes darted up and down the board, trying to see her message. She knew where she was. She gave me a name, numbers...

“I got it!” I yelled. “It’s an address. She knew exactly where she was and she was trying to tell us! June 6, 9:30? 66930. Where’s Garcia? I bet there’s an abandoned building at 66930 Cleveland Street.”

Morgan raced out of the room to grab Garcia. Moments later she rushed into the room with her laptop and I hurriedly asked her, “Garcia, what is at 66930 Cleveland Street?”

Her fingers blazed across the keyboard then she shook her head. “No, I can’t find that address.”

JJ leaned towards the monitor. “Try Cleveland Road?”

Garcia shook her head once again, “Sorry my sweets, there’s no 66930 Cleveland Road either.”

She continued to clack at her keyboard, and moments later she lit up and said, “Wait, I see an abandoned warehouse at 6693 Cleveland Road!”

“It was probably easier for Y/N to use time to disguise the numbers, even if it added another digit...” I thought out loud.

Morgan rushed over to her computer as I felt my body fill up with hope. “What can you tell us about it, baby girl?” He asked.

“It was previously owned by a man named Hubert Roffkins, but then the trail ends 2 months ago. It looks like it was abandoned then, and oh dear.”

“What is it?” Morgan pushed.

“Hotch asked me to look into similar abductions with phone calls ending with murder.”

I swallowed harshly. “And?” I asked.

“The dates coincide with the first kidnapping.”

“Let’s go.” Morgan commanded.

Third Person POV

Hubert Roffkins had stabbed Y/N for the seventh time by the time the FBI got to the scene. He was cornered and surrounded by agents, he knew there was no way out of this. As he reached for his gun, Agent Hotchner fired a single shot to the head and Roffkins was dead before he hit the ground. 

Y/N was still conscious when the agents came. She was surrounded by her own blood and dizzy with pain, but she knew once she saw those FBI vests, she’d be okay. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she heard a gunshot and saw a pair of converse running towards her. Her vision was blurring, but she didn’t need it to identify the figure who picked her up off the ground and held her face. He kept telling her to stay with him, but she couldn’t hear him. Her vision focused on his face for one second and she smiled at the familiar face. “Spencer,” she whispered, so faint he could barely hear her.

“I’m here, Y/N, I’m here.” He cried, holding her closer to him.

Her vision blurred once more and she let the darkness succumb her.

Spencer rode in the ambulance with her, and he would not let go of her hand the entire way to the hospital. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, wondering what could have been if he’d arrived just a few moments earlier. 

Once in the hospital, it took an army of nurses to separate Spencer from Y/N. He couldn’t let her out of his sight, too scared of losing her again. So he settled on sitting outside her room while the doctors operated on her. 

The rest of the BAU team met him at the hospital. They exchanged glances and sighs, unable to help their youngest teammate. No matter how they tried to comfort him, his mind was fixated on the well-being of his lost love.

The doctor emerged from Y/N’s room and Spencer immediately sat up.

“Her vitals are stable and he missed the major organs. She will be incredibly sore, but she’s gonna make it.” The doctor announced.

Spencer smiled. “Can I see her?” He asked.

The doctor nodded, warning him that she was still sleeping and she will be very tired.

Spencer walked into the room and sighed. He hated seeing her like this. She was pale, and she looked so fragile. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and hold her forever. 

He took a seat next to her bed and grabbed her hand. His thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand while he studied her face. Finally, after months of being apart, he was finally here with her. He was both relieved and terrified, knowing that once she woke up, she would have his entire heart in her hands. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, his voice coming out broken. He cleared his throat and continued. 

“I uh, I got your voicemail.” His voice cracked and he let out a sad smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But you did so good. I understood, Y/N. I remembered everything.” His voice cracked and tears were welling up in his eyes, but he continued. “You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.” His voice was now barely above a whisper. 

Spencer stopped for a moment to compose himself. It was the moment he had been waiting for. Y/N was right in front of him and all of his emotions were overwhelming. He had to tell her right now. Even if she couldn’t hear him; he needed the practice. Because the words have been bottled up for so long, and now that she was right in front of him, he felt like he was going to burst. But he just didn’t know where to start. 

“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I really need to tell you something, and I can’t wait any longer.” Spencer let out a sigh and stared at her hand in his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for months, and I-I need to let the words out before I lose my confidence.” Spencer swallowed thickly. “Or I don’t know, maybe you can hear me. Studies have shown that...” He trailed off. He was rambling.

Spencer let out a deep sigh and brought his eyes back to Y/N’s face. “Y/N... You were the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I can’t believe I let you go.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You were right, you know. Something did happen to me on a case. But I didn’t want to bring you into the evil that corrupts my world, so I kept you in the dark. But then it got out of hand... It became less about shielding you and more about protecting myself.” Spencer licked his lips and lowered his eyes again. He felt ashamed. Had it not been for his own pride, perhaps Y/N would still be in his life. Maybe he could have even prevented this. But he let out a shaky breath and continued.

“I was abducted and tortured by a man named Tobias Hankel. He had multiple personalities. So when he wasn’t torturing me, he was giving me painkillers. It was dilaudid.” Spencer shook his head as the memories of his abduction came back to him. 

“I... I became addicted, Y/N. I knew I needed help. But I wanted to prove I was strong. I wanted to prove that I could bounce back and show that I could handle it. But I couldn’t.” By now, the young doctor was crying. He continued through his sobs. “I guess I... I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it on my own, so I pushed everyone away, Y/N. Not just you. And I know that doesn’t make it better, but you were never the problem, Y/N. It was me.”

Spencer looked at Y/N’s face and rubbed circles on her hand. “I know there’s no way you could have known that, but I don’t want you blaming yourself for what happened between us. And I know what you would say if you were awake right now. I know what I did was wrong. I realized that you would never see me as weak for this, but in that moment I've never felt so weak. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Hot tears streamed down the Spencer’s face as he continued. “I’ve been sober for half a year now. I’ve been sober ever since we broke up. And I know drugs don’t excuse how I acted towards you, but I just needed you to know,” Spencer held onto Y/N’s hand tighter. “I never stopped loving you.”

As the young doctor spilled his heart out to his love, the words he spoke never reached their recipient. Y/N laid in deep slumber, unaware of Spencer’s confession as he sat next to her. She would stay in her comatose-like condition until the next day, never to hear the truth behind the end of her and Spencer’s relationship.

Because when Y/N awoke, Spencer had gone to get his morning cup of coffee from the hospital’s cafeteria. He had spent the entire night sleeping by her side, desperate to be the first person she saw when she woke up. By the time he returned, fits of giggles were emerging from Y/N’s room.

Spencer’s heart fluttered as he heard her laughter echo in his ears. She was finally awake, and he could finally get his confession off his conscience. All he had to do was repeat the words he had said the night before, this time to active ears.

But the words were caught in his throat once more, because when Spencer entered Y/N’s room, he was met with two sets of eyes instead of one. Y/N had lit up and exclaimed, “There’s the man who saved my life!” Her excitement and smile still brought butterflies to Spencer’s stomach. But they quickly disappeared when she spoke her next sentence, confirming Spencer’s fears. 

“Spencer, I want you to meet Connor. My boyfriend.” She gestured to the man sitting next to her. Spencer had recognized him immediately, he was the man he saw Y/N with at the cafe.

Spencer’s stomach dropped and his heart broke once again. 

He was too late.

---

read part two here!

[loveofafangirl]

A Promise

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x F!Reader/You  (no race or body type described)

Synopsis: You accompany Zemo to the Sokovia Memorial. *Hurt/Comfort*

Background: After protecting a child in Latvia, Zemo offers you his services to assist with tending to your wounds. You invite him to stay the night at your home.  This is a follow up to The Right Thing. It can probably be read as a standalone, but it is the same reader/character from that story and picks up the next morning. 

Word Count: ~2,000

TW: mentions of previous character death/death of a child; grief centric; angst with uncertain ending. 

A/N: I know my fluffy Zemo stories are more popular but in my HC, you don’t get Soft!Zemo without putting in the work and helping him through his deep-rooted grief. So it’s important to me to explore this side of him too, as there is no redemption possible without it. My HC is that you can read this reader throughout almost all of the stories. 

The floorboards in your old apartment creak in the quiet of the morning, you strain your ears, listening to your guest's movements. You continue preparing breakfast, hopeful that he might join you, but the footsteps lead away instead of nearer. 

You follow the sound, noting how the area where he had slept had since been tidied. 

"You don't have to leave," you offer with a subtle shrug as you approach the entrance. "Stay...at least for breakfast."

His lips pull at the corners as he nods in contemplation, but you can tell by the strained expression he had already decided to go. "Thank you for the hospitality, but I must depart." 

His hand taps almost subconsciously over one of the inner pockets of his long dark grey coat. Your mind drifts back to the previous night when he had offered the garment to you. You had noticed a small bear tucked inside. You had been curious but hadn't wished to pry. 

"There is something I must do," he stated solemnly.

You nod your understanding. You knew he wouldn't stay; why would he? Nevertheless, something inside of you begged you not to let him go. You watch as he continues toward the door. At the last moment, you take a quick step forward.

"Wait!" You blurt out with more volume than you had intended. "Do you want company?"

"Where I'm going, I don't anticipate having much time left." He turns back toward you. "I have a promise to keep and then—" he pauses, knowing what he has to do, knowing his freedom was only ever a short-term gift, one he would exchange when his work was complete. He continues, "—I have an agreement to honor." 

You look away, trying to school the disappointment on your face until you realize he hadn't entirely said no. You feel a slight rise of hope as you study his features. You sense the heaviness in his heart in his sunken gaze, despite the mischievous smirk toying on his lips. "I could use some air, even if it isn't that long." 

He inhales, considering your offer. Neither of you fully understand the curious feeling growing inside; yet, both of you are reluctant to ignore it and part so soon. He nods thoughtfully. "I've called for the car. It will take us where I need to go."

Your eyes grow inquisitively at his words. You had assumed the place was nearby. But more so, the ease in which he mentions such a luxury takes you by surprise. Not many from your neighborhood could afford such a thing. 

You grab your coat and follow him out into the streets. You pause as you near the black car, questioning for the first time if this is a wise decision. Your thoughts are pulled back as he opens the side door, motioning you inside. 

Your face warms at the gesture. It wasn't often you encountered manners such as his. He was different, and that intrigued you.

He closes the door carefully behind you before walking around and joining you on the other side.

"The memorial, if you please." These are the only words spoken for the duration of the trip. 

You watch your city fade away to the countryside that eventually gave way into a bareness. Despite the years since the battle, the land had yet to recover fully. Some new growth highlighted the landscape, but much was still bleak and lifeless. 

Every now and then, you stole a glance at the man beside you, deep in contemplation. Occasionally, he would record his thoughts in a small notebook that he kept guarded.

As the car arrives at the memorial, you wait, watching for him to take the lead, not really knowing what to expect. 

His hand pauses as he reaches for the door handle. You watch his deliberate movements, almost forcing himself forward. 

The grief drawn on his face pulls your own features down in reply. You wonder for the first time whom he had lost.

He nods to himself as if willing his body to continue and leave the car.

You linger with the intent of giving him a moment. However, to your surprise, he opens your door for you and gestures you out. 

You take in the expansive memorial to the fallen country. A lake to the right had formed as the land resettled. A monument at the center with a serene trickling fountain welcomed you quietly.

But what caught your attention most was the wall of names. The Avengers had saved a lot of people that day, but the list of the dead was longer than you expected. Your stomach drops at the realization as your gaze scans the seemingly endless wall. The news covered the victory and the destruction, but it did little to prepare you for this truth. The cost of human lives should have outweighed any other press, but it didn't. 

You whisper a silent prayer to honor the dead, knowing so many of them may no longer have anyone to remember them. 

He stands beside you, his gaze distant.

"It's beautiful." The words slip from your lips in reverence. The memorial was simple yet powerful. You couldn't help but feel the weight of the loss standing before the massive wall in the distance, but the fountain and the lake helped ground you. "I wonder who designed it."

"I did," he replies, his voice marred with pain. "I may be a man without a country now; but, it is still my duty to care for the ashes of my beloved land and all those who were lost... and those I failed to protect." 

The more he talked, the less you realized you knew about him. He spoke of Sokovia with deep admiration as though he were once a significant member of its ruling body. You wonder how a man who seemingly had so much ended up hiding in the shadows of your city. The sorrow in his expression answered your question. Loss. Loss cuts more deeply than any physical wound ever could.

"It's beautiful," you repeat quietly. You know that no matter what you offer, it will never be enough to satiate his loss.

He doesn't acknowledge your reply; instead, he continues forward, heading toward the end of the list of names.  

You stay near the fountain, giving him space and privacy to mourn. You try to turn away, but you can't help but continue glancing in his direction. You want more than anything to understand him. 

You watch his body grow rigid, the color draining from his face. He leans against the wall for support, his fingers tracing a line of names. He reaches in his pocket and retrieves the small bear. His hands shake as he looks between the toy and the wall. 

You press your fingers to your lips, wondering what memories the token holds for him. You could practically see this man's heart breaking in front of you. 

His knees buckle under the weight of his grief until he crumbles to the ground, clutching the bear tightly in his hands. Despite being hidden by his jacket, you see his body rock as he weeps silently, his suffering too great to bear.

This man who confidently came to your rescue, who despite his mysterious nature had offered an air of self-assuredness in all that he did, was now broken in a way you realize only the loss of a young child could cause.

You move silently behind him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The two of you might be strangers still but, you knew he needed to know he wasn't alone. 

"I'm sorry," he cries quietly, though you know the words are not meant for you. "I failed you. I should have been there. It should have been me."

He had spent years grieving in silence, throwing himself in his mission to avenge their deaths and later in prison, reading philosophies to justify the actions he had taken. He had never given into the sorrow, not in a meaningful way. It was easier to stay angry and to hate those responsible than to let the weight of his grief suffocate him as it did now. But, he had made them a promise that they would never be forgotten—that no one loss that day would be forgotten. He promised to remember them and then to visit once the memorial was complete. And now, he could keep that promise, even if it meant little compared to the one promise in his life that he had failed to keep—to protect them above all else.

You remain silently at his side, letting him grieve. He didn't recoil under your touch, so you kept your hand on his shoulder, knowing it would do little to quell the sadness of the loss of a child—the ultimate tragedy. 

As his grief quiets and his body relaxes, you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze and retreat, offering him time alone with the family he had lost.

He kisses the crown of the bear's head and rests it against the wall. He remains a while longer in silent vigil. You keep watch from the fountain, admiring how the sun sparkled on the lake, offering a promise of hope for the future amongst the wreckage. 

When he returns to you, his mouth opens in gratitude, but his words fail. He nods simply, and you understand all of the unspoken meaning it held.

"What will you do now?" You question softly. 

"Wait," he replies, sitting stoically beside you.

"How long?" You had already been away almost a day and were curious where this was leading.

"As long as it takes?"

"For what?"

"I made an agreement. As easy as it would be to go on my way and accept this freedom, I must honor the vow I made. What would a man be without his word?"

You don't understand what he means, but you sensed his peace in his decision. "Okay."

His gaze meets yours. "The car will take you anywhere you wish to go."

"What about you?"

"I trust other means of transportation will have been arranged."

You take this as your cue to leave, so you stand, despite your reservations. "Thank you... for your help last night."

"It was my privilege to do the right thing."

"Will I see you again?" The question slips from your lips before you can stop it.

The corner of his mouth twitches up momentarily. He reaches in his pocket, retrieving the black notebook he was writing in earlier. "That is entirely up to you."

You shake your head in confusion as he hands the book to you.

"This is who I was and who I am." His head tilts to the side, reflecting on the time you'd spent together. "It also holds what events I trust will transpire in the coming days and where to find me should you wish to after you've learned the truth."

"I don't understand."

"I know. You will if you read this." He offers a halfhearted smile. "If we don't meet again, I understand, but if we do,  I'll know—" he goes quiet, choosing his words carefully. "I'll know there is more work to be done. That you have seen what I could be, and I'd like that chance."

You stare blankly, wanting to understand but sensing you can't.

"Thank you," he paused, his voice rising, searching for something more.

"Y/N," you whisper. You had both decided the previous night it was best to keep your identities concealed.

"Y/N," he repeats, reaching for your hand. He brushes a kiss on your knuckles. "It's been a pleasure."

Your eyes mist over, even though you're not sure why. You wait, hoping he might return the sentiment with his name, but his lips press together, and his only reply is to gesture toward the book he handed you. 

"Go," he encourages.

You feel yourself walking away even though that's the last thing you want to do. You hold the book—his book—a little closer, not daring to look back. Despite the slight promise in his words that this wasn't the end, you couldn't help but feel like this was an unspoken goodbye. 

A/N2: I started writing after episode 4 when Zemo first mentions the memorial. The original ending wasn’t angsty/uncertain, but I wanted to make it work with canon so I wanted him to decide to stay alone so he could return to prison, keeping the agreement he made to Sam and Bucky in the beginning. There may be a third part in their story... just saying 😉 

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite​​​​; @fandomxreaders ;  @moonstuffsteve​​

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​​​​ ; @killsandthrills​​​ ; @noavengers​​​​ ; ​@nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney​​ ; @willowtheewisp​ ; @marchingicenotes7 

[mandoalorian]

Din djarin is a insecure man so what do you think about din being insecure and following reader when she is in the streets and she already knows it and try to play with his jealous and Fluff at the end. I love you and thanks 🥰

Are You An Angel? [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

Rating: 13+

Word count: 1.7k

Masterlist

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluff @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

Din Djarin taglist: @alecdamndario0

When Din was younger, he'd lay in the lap of his mother and at night, and she'd sing sweet songs to lull him to sleep. His father always made an effort to spend time with Din during the later hours of the evening, sitting on the edge of Din's small bed and holding his son's hand. He couldn't sing like his wife could, and Din didn't really have the privilege of owning any books— but there was one bedtime story that only Din's father could tell, and Din had in fact become particularly fond of it.

"When I met your mother, I believed she was an angel from the moon of Iego. The angels were reputed for their beauty, and she was certainly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen." Din's father would tell, smiling as he reminisced.

Din became enamoured with the story and the concept of angels. But after the death of his parents the idea of love and beauty and peace became so foreign. When he was sworn to the Creed, his priority became to fight and defend, but the story his father told all those years ago still lived deep within Din's heart. It was something he always held onto.

Finding a long term lover was just never in the cards for Din, no matter how much he dreamed of it. It just wasn't plausible, considering his creed and career, and that gave him some kind of insecurity. He'd never had a serious relationship. He understood and came to accept that no one would really want a man who was part of a culture that forbade the removal of his helmet, or even a bounty hunter who was always constantly travelling and couldn't settle down.

But things had been changing. Din had a child now, and he hadn't claimed a bounty from the Guild in months. Din had never stayed in one place for too long— he couldn't without running the risk of getting into trouble with thugs or crime syndicates. But when he returned to Nevarro one sunny afternoon, he walked through the market and saw you.

You were hidden by a cloak, intriguing the attention from Din almost immediately. You picked up an apple and handed it to one of the children with a generous smile. The child snatched it from you promptly and ran off. You were unlike anyone or anything Din had seen before… you beamed and glowed and your beauty was incomparable. When he first saw you, he was reminded of his father's story about the angels on Iego.

Once upon a time, Din would've said that 'love at first sight' was nonsense. Ridiculous. But he hadn't met you. He learned that you attended the farmers market on Nevarro everyday at approximately the same time— and every day, without fail, you'd purchase an item of fruit; be it sourberries or sweetplums, and you'd give it to a child in need. Din would watch you from the hull of the Razor Crest, staring intently, baffled by your continued selfless acts of kindness and generosity.

He wanted to approach you. He wanted to say hello, maybe ask you for a drink— although that would be absurd considering he couldn't remove the beskar that contained his face. He just wished he'd have enough confidence to say something; anything to you. But whenever he got close to saying something, his mouth would get dry and his throat would close up.

He couldn't believe it, he'd never experienced anything like this before. Din was always able to talk himself out of tricky situations but this… was something else. It was your aura that stunned him. It was everything his father had described to him when he was younger, but now Din could finally understand what exactly he meant.

He was going to say something. Just a simple 'hello'. He had to. He spent some time in the fresher before, he planned out how exactly he was going to approach you. He'd talk it through with Grogu. "Listen kid," he told the green bean. "She seems to like to give kids fruit from the market stall so… maybe ask for some sourberries or something, yeah? And then I'll come up to you and uh…" Din trailed off, trying to make his elaborate plan clear to his son who almost definitely had no idea what Din was talking about.

Din was sure you hadn't seen him, but he was wrong. Only once in a blue moon would the Nevarro locals see a Mandalorian dressed head to toe in silver Beskar. Din was pretty memorable. You noticed him the first day he saw you. You were aware you were being watched, and quite frankly, you didn't care.

If it was any other man… any other dirty scoundrel watching you from his ship quarters, you'd feel violated and disgusted. But Din Djarin wasn't just any man. Having a Mandalorian warrior watch over you, knowing that he had an armoury full of weapons and the impeccable skillset of a true fighter made you feel protected. You hadn't spoken a word to him— what were you to say to a Mandalorian? But you wanted to. His presence initiated a primal urge within you. You needed him.

When the time came, he couldn't do it. He froze up, seeing a man caress your arm and lean into you. The man was strange. Din had been watching you for weeks now and he had never seen this man at all. Could it be a friend from another planet? A boyfriend? No… not a boyfriend. The pit of Din's stomach filled with envy. Had he waited too long to make his move? He cursed himself under his breath for letting himself get so attached to a woman he had never even met before.

Din watched closer, his eyes narrowing when he saw the strange man press his chest into yours, pushing you into the fruit & veg stall you stood beside everyday. You looked uncomfortable but your good heart stopped you from pushing him away. Din's fingers graced the blaster in his holster as he watched the man press a finger into your chest, drunkenly slurring his speech. Your fingers curled around the market stall table, defensively creating fists that were so tight your knuckles turned white.

Noticing the man had a dagger in his pocket, Din decided he had to act fast. It wasn't the way he intended meeting you, but no one else was watching over you. He couldn't bear to see you get hurt.

Din whipped out his vibroblade and held it to the man's neck, your eyes widening in horror as he approached the stranger from behind. "Step away from the lady," Din hissed, his voice laced with venom and the knife only inches away from the man's throat. "Make one wrong move and you're dead, you understand?" Din asked.

The man removed his hands from you, placing them above his head and surrendering. He slowly took a few steps away before quickly running off without saying a word. With a flick of a switch, Din shut down his vibroblade and slid it back into his holster.

"Th-thank you," you bit your lip nervously, looking up at the Mandalorian. "You're my hero."

"It's uh, it's nothing," Din replied, feeling the awkwardness consume him. "Are you new around here?"

"Fairly," you answered quickly with a nod.

"Because there's a lot of men like him, here on Nevarro. Bad men. So uh, you should really be careful." Din explained and you didn't reply, instead shyly looking down at the ground. Din felt like he had royally messed up. Grogu padded over towards the both of you, blinking his big black eyes innocently. You couldn't help but grin when you saw him.

"Is this your child?" you quizzed, eventually breaking the silence.

"Something like that." Din muttered as his gaze flicked between you and Grogu.

"Oh, I've never seen a child like him before. He's wonderful." you beamed merrily, pulling out a bunch of sourberries and handing them to Grogu.

"He's certainly special," Din grumbled through a genuine smile. "So, what brings you to Nevarro?"

"It's… complicated," you huffed out a sigh. "Actually, I may not be able to stay here much longer."

"On the run?" Din asked with a chuckle, but it was only a half joke. His heart shattered when he saw you nod sadly.

"Yeah. Like I said, complicated." You shrugged, folding your arms over your chest.

"I know how it feels," Din revealed and you looked up at him with curiousity. "My uh… my ship. It has room for you, if you wanted to come with me." He suggested, pointing aimlessly to the Razor Crest which was stationed a few yards back. Grogu gargled quizzically.

"Where are you going?" you asked the Mandalorian.

"I- anywhere? Nowhere? Everywhere? There's really no place off limits." Din responded.

"You'd really let me accompany you?" you asked again. For some reason, you weren't completely opposed to the idea. In fact, you trusted this man who you didn't even know the name of.

"Yeah," Din shrugged casually. "But I do have one question," you nodded, urging him to continue. "Are you an angel?" he asked, immediately hating the way the words left his lips.

"A what?" you scrunched up your nose in bewilderment, unsure if you had heard him right.

"An angel," he repeated. "From the moons of Iego."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his sentiment. "I could be asking you the same thing," you giggled, pursing your lips together into a thin line. "You've been watching me for weeks. Like my guardian angel." Din felt embarrassed that you had noticed him, but his feeling immediately softened when you placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I would like to come with you." you said quietly, subconsciously fluttering your eyelashes.

"Where would you like to go?" Din questioned, his voice low through the modulator.

"Take me to the moons of Iego," you smiled, before interlocking your fingers with his and letting him direct you back to the ship. "I want to see these angels."

[ladyeliot]

Stay with me

Prequel to  It will always be you.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: Because of the consequences of your actions, 117 nations come together to create the Sokovia Accords. Now a decision hangs over you, whether to sign them or not, whatever you do will have repercussions.

Warnings: Angst.

Word count: 3702

A/N: Civil War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

The evidence was clear, the position you were currently in had come about because of some very poor performance on your part, the news had echoed the catastrophes you had caused, especially the attack on Lagos, the governments had lined up to stop it and come to a common agreement to keep you under their command. Deep down you all knew that day would come, though you were confident it would be further away. It had been almost four years since Tony Stark had rescued you from your past, from being a contraption held in a laboratory for research. You had been offered a future where you no longer had to run or hide, you had been offered freedom, a purpose in life, but that bundle of paperwork in front of your eyes was meant to make you a prisoner of the government once again.

The discussion had been getting louder and louder, the different opinions countering each other were causing the nerves to come to the fore, alternating the atmosphere. Although the resolution was clear, there was nothing to be done, you were either with them or against them, becoming a fugitive wanted by the whole world. The Sokovia Accords were established by the United Nations and ratified by 117 nations, and what they proposed was to regulate the activities of the altered individuals, namely that the Avengers would cease to be a private organisation, and from now on would operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, and only when and if that panel deemed it necessary.

There was no turning back, the consequences had been placed before you for the acts you had committed, it was a one way street, not a return. Secretary Ross had been in charge of presenting you with the whole set of papers that would have to be signed by you, but convincing you all to agree was not going to be so easy. 

“So let's say we agree to this thing,” Sam said, unresponsive to the situation. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“A 117 countries want to sign this,” Rhodes reminded him.  “117, Sam, and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

Unlike them, you chose to keep a few metres away from the meeting table, remain silent and meditate with yourself on the proposal, not that you didn't know the pros and cons or the consequences of not signing the agreements, but that you wanted to analyse the situation from different points of view without the others questioning your opinions.

"Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal," Natasha said, turning her gaze to Tony.

“It's because he's already made up his mind,” Steve's tone seemed harsher than usual.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony countered sarcastically, then turned his gaze and gestured in your direction.  "She does seem to have made up her mind what her decision is."

You felt the gaze of everyone present focus on you, who unlike him preferred to be absorbed in the shadows, hiding from the attention of your companions. But in the end, perhaps his words were true and you had made a decision, a decision that you were not going to allow anyone to choose for you.

"I guess it's not as simple as you're trying to make us believe Tony," your tone was calm and affable, knowing that you were about to receive a sarcastic and ironic counterattack from him.

"Simple?" he gets up from the sofa raising his hands, walking towards the kitchen area, where you were sitting on a stool. "You think it's simple for me?" he pulls a mobile device out of his pocket and sets it down right in front of you on the top, the device projecting an image of a smiling young man. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia."

You look down, you understand perfectly what he means, you remember what happened in Sokovia, you remember because you were there, you saw with your own eyes what happened and also the consequences of your actions. But you knew that any decision had consequences and they could have been much worse if you had not acted, although there were also causes for your own fault.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose," Tony continued, looking directly at you, his tone rising and stiffening. "I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass."

After his last word, silence filled the room, everyone in the room was reliving the ghosts of the past. Tony definitely realising that you weren't going to look up to return his gaze decided to head back into the room with the others.

"There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes..."

You felt his voice trailing off, then Steve seemed to come in to debate various points, but you could barely focus on what each of them was saying. An internal struggle was going on inside you, and you couldn't wait to see who was going to win.

"I have to go."

You looked up after hearing those words spoken by Steve, his body rose energetically, dropping the agreements from his hand. That was the beginning of all the consequences that were to come after we had made the decision not to sign.

Your steps were decisive, you walked through those long corridors that had become your home for the last few years, knowing that you would most likely never see them again, or at least not for an indefinite period of time. You truly believed you had made a decision, a decision that could become the decision of a lifetime, a before and after in the life process you had created for yourself. You believed that you knew the consequences, that you would be willing to face them as they came. You knew there were going to be setbacks, obstacles, but you didn't expect one as big as him to stand in your way.

"So you've made your decision?" the figure of Tony stood in the doorway of your room, a serious look on his face seeming to immobilise you. "Are you going to leave with Steve?

"I think it's for the best," your words were blunt, as you packed your most essential belongings into a rucksack.

His body entered your room just before the door closed behind him. You knew Tony well enough to know that his next words to you were likely to make an impression on you, but your mind was made up.

"Did you hear anything I just said in the living room?" he pursed his lips and ran his fingers nervously over them.

"Don't make this difficult for me," those words left your lips almost as a plea.

You barely looked at him, your back was turned to him and your eyes were focused on the inside of that backpack that seemed to have no end.

"I suppose you know that your decision is a single ticket," his words were firm. "That you're basically signing your own fucking sentence."

"No," you dropped the backpack and turned to him to find yourself face to face. "That's exactly what I'm running from," you sighed. "I think you of all people know that I know what it's like to be someone's property, that I've been for far too long and that's what really scares me," your pupils dilated as you remembered every single moment you'd lived hidden from the world, being an experiment. "I don't need guys in ties fighting for their own interests telling me what to do or where to go, because my freedom ends when they command me," the seriousness on Tony's face had relaxed, he kept his gaze on his feet and nodded. "I want you to know that I'm going with Steve because you had already made your decision."

The tension spread slightly around you, so much was hidden in those words, much more than what was shown. The complexity of the situation went far beyond signing or not signing the agreements, it was the break-up of a group, of friends, of family, something that could never be put back together again.

"I... I don't know if I'm going to be able to protect you," Tony clenched his jaw as he denied to himself, resting his brown eyes on yours again.

"I never asked you to."

You knew perfectly well how much your words must have hurt him, and what he meant when he said he couldn't protect you. There were so many hidden things in the air, but this was not the right time to start that conversation, maybe it was too late, nothing was going to change things so you asked yourself to please not make things more complicated. You turned around and nimbly zipped up your backpack, everything you had of great sentimental value was inside.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, hanging the backpack over your right shoulder and looking up at him.

"You're not sorry," his tone became serious, but at the same time indifferent, he was hurt. His gaze turned away from yours.

"This isn't what I wanted to happen," you whispered hoping that wasn't the last image you would see of him before you left.

"So, all you have to do was stay," those were the words that almost caused something inside you to stir, but you only gave a small, wistful smile as you looked at his face.

"You know I can't," you whispered hoping he wouldn't extract his share of indifference towards you again. "Please don't make it more complicated for me, because I can't deal with you right now.”

It was impossible to explain to you at that moment the dilemma that was building up inside you. On the one hand your ethics and your values were what prevented you from signing those damn papers that limited and curtailed your freedoms, it was something you assumed. On the other hand, how could it be so hard to leave Tony, why, what was going on right now that you couldn't face?

"Maybe you should just leave now," Tony slipped his hands into his Tom Ford trouser pockets and focused his gaze on the door to your room.

You nodded slowly, your brow furrowed and your lips parted as you didn't expect those words at all, you were ready to start an internal struggle, but he had already sentenced the conversation.

"Alright," you muttered, taking a step backwards, away from him. "Bye Tony."

As you got closer to that door a lump settled tighter in your throat, like a dramatic movie you expected him to say something to stop you at any moment, but he didn't. The door opened and allowed you to leave. The corridors seemed miles long, perhaps because time was slowing down. A black car could be seen from the wide glass windows, there were Steve and Sam waiting for you. A guilty smile appeared on your face as you walked back through the hall, bidding farewell to those present.

As you stepped outside, the air seemed to open up your lungs again, which had been stuck after the last goodbye you had said to Tony. Sam was inside the car, and Steve took care of getting your rucksack into the boot, along with his shield and Sam's wings.

"Are you all right?" muttered Steve, to which your response was a gentle nod.

As you rested your hand on the handle to open the car door, you couldn't help but direct your gaze towards the top of the building, right where you had left Tony a few minutes ago. But there was definitely no sign coming from that spot to stop you from continuing on your way.

The next few days the situation became more complex than anyone here would have expected. Agent Carter's funeral passed without incident, Natasha appeared to inform you that she was leaving for Vienna to sign the agreements, that there was still a chance for you to change your minds, but none of you did. Perhaps it was for the best, because during the signing an attack happened on the spot, an attack that changed the course of things. All eyes were on the Winter Soldier, Bucky, that directed Steve, Sam and you to Bucharest in a supposed attempt to get to Bucky before the authorities did.

"They're on the roof," Sam reported over the intercom.

"Steve get out of there right now," you said hiding on the roof of the building next door. "I can sense you but I can't surround your body with psychic energy unless you come out into the open."

That day was one of the worst failures you had ever managed to pull off, perhaps it was obvious that things didn't go quite right when feelings ran high, and it showed in Steve, especially when law enforcement trapped you in that tunnel.

"Stand down, now," War machine appeared before you to end the fatal chase and set you on your way to Berlin.

You knew what would follow, there was only one way out or the consequences would be far more extreme, either sign the agreements or become prisoners of the law. Things were different for you, Captain could have his shield removed, Sam could have his wings removed and T'Challa, who had appeared in pursuit out of nowhere could have his suit removed too, but you and Bucky were far more dangerous, especially as your powers and dangers were in the mind.

When you arrived at the facility in that armoured truck Bucky was put in an extreme protection capsule, that marked memory making you remember the past time.

"What's going to happen to him?" asked Steve walking beside you in the direction of Everett Ross, Deputy Commander of the Joint Forces.

"The same as you. Psychological evaluation and extradition," he focused his gaze on you.  "Miss Y/L/N, let's hope you'll be cooperative."

You understood his words, you knew the fear you could cause, force could be controlled, the mind was much more complicated.

"Of course," you affirmed with all your good intentions.

You didn't know where, but you assumed that in a few minutes you were going to meet him again in some remote part of that building, you could feel it. First it was Natasha who approached you, and then when you stepped inside the control room there was Tony, talking on the phone.

"[...] consequences?" he turned his body towards you, his gaze fixed on you, which made you cross your arms and look around, avoiding her. "Of course there will be consequences."

"Consequences?" asked Steve with a serious look on his face.

"Secretary Ross wants to prosecute the three of you. I had to give something."

You walked away from them, realising that you had two armed men following your every step around that room. You watched the monitors, every corner of the planet seemed to be controlled by them, there was nothing they could miss, you could even see yourself reflected in one of them.

"Is it worth it?" you turned your face to find yourself face to face with the one who had made you doubt your decision a few days ago.

He took his right hand out of one of his trouser pockets and made a slight gesture for the two security officers who had been assigned to you to move a little away from you, offering you some privacy.

"What do you mean?" you cocked your head to one side. Your voice was stiff, you were tense enough about the situation to offer him a friendly tone.

"I don't know, was it worth risking everything to find yourself back here with possible legal charges?" you didn't deny it, Tony's words hurt.

"Are you rejoicing?" you squinted, uncrossing your arms and turning your whole body towards him.

"How do you think this will all end?" he ran his index finger down the side of his mouth, his nervousness showing. Those words made you shudder. "Now you have a chance, don't let it slip away."

"Please, don't make this worse than it already is," your pleas were in vain. The last thing you wanted right now was a lecture from Tony.

"This wouldn't even abe problem, if you wouldn't make one out of it!" his voice was authoritative.

Your refusals and hesitations had gotten on his nerves, it was evident in the way he was addressing you. That was the last thing you wanted to do, to cause trouble, but it was clear that you were on the defensive against any verbal attack Tony might offer you. Sparks could almost fly between your gazes, which were still on after the conversation was over. You had no idea what was going to happen next, so you were grateful that Natasha caught Tony's attention at that moment, breaking into a battle that wasn't going anywhere.

The hours passed really slowly, so you found a space in a glassed-in conference room to settle in, under, of course, the watchful eye of the guards in charge of you, until you were called in for your psychological analysis.

"Do you need anything?" the door closed behind him.

"Are you playing good cop?" you asked watching as he dropped his blazer on a chair and sat down right next to you. "You're not giving up, are you?"

"I'll take every last cartridge," he leaned his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into the palm of his hand. "You know, I was just remembering earlier when we all went to that Italian restaurant in Soho on your birthday, and then we were at the concert by.... Oh, what was the name of the band? "

"What are you trying Tony?" you cocked your head to the side with a small smile on your face.

"I'm trying to... how do you say?" he rested his index finger on your lips. "Signing a peace agreement? Trying to get to your sensitive spot, because you have one, right?"

"I don't know, I guess if you have one I might as well, huh?" you arched an eyebrow, intertwining your fingers on the table, causing him to make a gesture of placing his hands on yours, but he never got to touch them by restraining himself, so you ignored the gesture.  "Do you want to sign a peace agreement with me, or do you want me to sign the Sokovia Accords?"

He took a breath and let it out slowly through his nostrils. He was completely frustrated, you knew it, you could feel it, he had rarely been involved in those situations that were out of his control.

"Listen," he paused slightly, bringing his fingers to his chin. "I think it's time that I..." he tore his gaze away from yours, let it wander, searching for his words as he gestured with his right hand. "I've tried many times, to do this but.... God, this really is the worst time to do it." He looked around nervously and then crossed his arms, but quickly pulled them apart. "Whatever. We're... well, I... it's likely that I, maybe, can feel..."

You would remember that moment all your life, especially since you wouldn't know until many years later what he meant to say to you. At that moment the lights went out, the monitors stopped working and everything was dark around you, only red flickering lights would have made their way into your darkness. Your head swivelled around you in search of whatever it was that was going on, Tony got up from his seat and placed his glasses over his eyes.

"Friday, give me the source of the blackout," he said to himself.

Finally your eyes focused on Steve and Sam, who were standing next to Sharon in the next room. You listened as Sharon informed them of Bucky's location, and a last glance towards you informed you that they were going to head that way, but just as you were about to leave that meeting room a hand came down hard around your arm.

"Stay with me," the trembling words that came from his lips seemed to shake your insides.

"I can't," you mumbled through your teeth almost with all the pain in your heart.

His fingers loosened, allowing you to leave the room as quickly as possible, but you took one last second to contemplate his face and how many feelings were hidden in it. You knew you only had one chance, everyone present was distracted enough to find the reason for the blackout, you had only a few seconds to get out of the room without being seen, and a couple of minutes before they noticed, so you didn't take long to do it.

A new decision piled up on your list, always facing the consequences you had acquired, and fighting against the feelings your heart presented to you. It wasn't easy, you hadn't given it much thought either, but what you did know was that you didn't regret having done it, at least so far.

Taglist Open (DM)

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[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

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On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear. 

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there. 

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself. 

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games. 

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...” 

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”  

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work." 

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

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church. 

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family. 

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee. 

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road. 

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat. 

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it. 

She was also deadly serious. 

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

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

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations. 

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep. 

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes. 

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair. 

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking. 

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either." 

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

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

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs. 

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides. 

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill. 

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?" 

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?" 

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk. 

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?" 

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone;  the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!". 

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that. 

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away," 

He regretted it as soon as it came out. 

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip. 

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything? 

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

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

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way. 

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too. 

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion. 

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from. 

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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

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[ooops-i-arted]

I know that considering (TCW-2008) refs/characters in this episode that it won’t be your fav but can you please share your child development thoughts for S02E05 please??

They may have been stuff I wasn’t fond of but there were so many cute Baby & Dad moments to make up for it!!

First of all, the puppeteers deserves ALL THE AWARDS for bringing Baby Yoda to life!  Not just making Baby “come alive” in general, but also that sort-of-awkward way children move when they don’t have complete confidence in their limbs yet.  The are doing a phenomenal job this season and I hope they are all safe and healthy and have all the chocolate they want.  Not only is it fantastic from a special effects perspective, it really highlights how far Baby has come now that he’s not stuck in a pod all day and implies that Din is trying to keep him active and physically healthy, and giving him opportunities to develop his muscles and muscle control.  (Just imagine them playing a makeshift game of chase through the Razor Crest!)

I absolutely loved Din saying “Hey, what did I tell you” because I have said those exact words in that exact tone SO MANY TIMES and also his Dad Voice is getting so much better!  Baby actually listens to him and understands that Din expects him to listen!  Of course he still wants the ball (and apparently takes it enough that Din has been practicing his Dad voice on that too, “What did I say about that” is another phrase I also use at work).

Though there may have been another reason he wants the ball this time - as a comfort item, like a child bringing their favorite stuffie to the first day of school.  Baby was there when the Armorer told Din to find Jedi to bring the Baby to.  He has been listening a lot when Din talks about finding Jedi to train him and give him to.  I think Baby is very, very aware of the fact that the end goal is to leave him with the Jedi and is very afraid of leaving his beloved father.  He would’ve had stable caretaker(s) at the Jedi Temple but in the last twenty years who knows what’s happened to him.  His subdued, don’t-draw-attention-to-myself behavior in Season 1 definitely makes me think he’s been neglected, bare minimum, and possibly abused.  Din not only treats him kindly but actually takes care of his needs, is kind to him, and is the most stable presence in his life.  Of course he’d be terrified to leave him!

I think that’s also why he doesn’t play ball with Ahsoka, so to speak.  We all know he can lift a mudhorn, a rock is no problem for him.  He could do it in a heartbeat.  But I think he understood that if he showed off for her, Ahsoka might take him away.  So he refused for that, and because it’s very common at that age to refuse to do something to regain control of a situation.  (That’s why you get kids enjoying telling you “No!” and the whole terrible twos thing.)  If he refuses, he stays in control of what’s happening.  But of course Din knows exactly how to tempt him with his favorite ball, and kids do want to please adults they like.  Anything to hear that sweet, sweet positive reinforcement.  So it wasn’t just the shiny ball that convinced Baby - it was the fact that Din was the one playing with him, and that Din so enthusiastically tells him good job.  (And Din is noticeably more into it when using the orb.  Maybe he and Baby have played with it before?  So it’s more natural to both of them.  And he was truly so proud of his boy!!  It was adorable.)

It’s the same with hearing his real name, which he presumably hasn’t heard in twenty years.  He responds when Ahsoka says it, but when Din says it?  He’s instantly turned around, ears perked all the way up in “happy” mode.  It’s special when Din says it, because Din is special to him.

Which then ties into the whole attachment thing.  Baby is very healthily attached to Din.  There’s a reason we stick kids with the same teacher for a year plus at a time, it’s because kids are comfortable with a regular person they can get to know, just like adults are.  To Baby, Ahsoka is just some orange stranger and Din is his dad.  Of course he is more attached to Din and has fears over losing him, especially if he’s been deprived of that for the last 20-odd years!  It’d be different if Din was sticking around to transition Baby somewhere new, or just dropping him off for lessons.  But leaving a parent permanently and abruptly after likely previous trauma?  That would be horrible for Baby.

And re: The Jedi + attachments Ahsoka (and Filoni) are wrong on that.  The Jedi do not forbid attachments, only letting your attachments rule you.  Ki-Adi-Mundi is married and so were others, and there are plenty of Padawan-Master relationships to see - for example, Obi-Wan was attached to Qui-Gon and clearly loved him and was devastated by his loss, but it’s only when he conquers his emotions and calms himself is he able to defeat Maul, and afterward is implied/shown to mourn Qui-Gon and handle his grief in a healthy way.  Anakin doesn’t fall because he’s attached to his loved ones.  He falls because he’s willing to commit murder and genocide over his attachments.  So “I can’t teach Grogu because he’s attached to you” is bullshit.  “I can’t teach Grogu because he is attached to you and needs to be safely transitioned into Jedi life in an environment that is comfortable and safe for him, with your help as his adoptive father, and I have no way to do that here and/or don’t feel comfortable doing that” is much more accurate.  (This is probably what would’ve happened if the Order was still around, anyway, and/or how he was actually taken in - the 3D TCW episode with the Jedi children shows the bounty hunters tricking the parents to kidnap the kids, implying that a real Jedi would work with the family to transition the children in a safe and healthy manner.  The Rodian even says the Jedi have already spoken to her iirc.)

Of course even if Grogu is unhealthily attached to Din (which he isn’t, imo, he behaves like a child at a normal level of attachment to a regular caretaker he loves) then ignoring it and not doing anything about it is equally bad.... as we’ve already seen when he got upset with Cara last season.  Baby must learn to control his powers so he doesn’t hurt himself or others, especially since he’s so young he doesn’t always have full control over his own emotions.  “Big” emotions can be a lot for a kid; a screaming meltdown is bad enough when the kid can’t yeet you with their mind.  I’ve been hit, kicked, bitten, scratched, had toys thrown at me, even been hit with heavy wooden blocks.  A Grogu out of control with his emotions and using the Force?  Terrifying.  Yes, his attachment to Din makes him more vulnerable to his fears and anger - we’ve seen him choke Cara and while he only held back the mudhorn, in theory he could’ve done more.  But that is just all the more reason to teach him control.  Ignore harmful behavior and it will only get worse, and Din isn’t really equipped to help him navigate that since Din doesn’t understand the Force and can’t understand what Grogu says.

(Also lol at “He doesn’t understand” “He does.”  You can 100% tell when kids understand you perfectly and are refusing to do it, even when a parent is making excuses for their darling. xD  Especially since kids will frequently act/react differently to their parents versus other caretakers.)

“He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years” I call partial bullshit on that.  No, I don’t think Baby has done any long-term planning or had thoughts along the lines of “I’m being hunted and need to protect myself by pretending not to be a Force-user.”  But I think he has probably figured out people react a certain way when he does Force things and perhaps decided “I shouldn’t make things float because then people will grab me/I will get taken away/other consequence I don’t like will happen.”  That’s more in line with a toddler’s level of thinking/comprehension.  And it adds greater weight to him saving Din from the mudhorn - he didn’t know how Din would react to him using the Force, if Din would try and hurt him or lock him in the pod or whatever, but he still wanted to save Din.  Overall though I think Baby’s Force-use is in line with a toddler’s thoughts.  “I want X to happen, I can make that happen with the Force, so I will make X happen unless I’m more scared of [consequence] happening.”

So overall a pretty revealing episode for Baby/Grogu.  (I’m not used to the new name yet tbh.)  Although I’m worried about how many times it will take Din hearing it to realize that yes, you are this baby’s father, get that through your beskar-plated skull.

[ricinbach]

for the record. | chapter 2 - bravo

it was time you tied the name to the person behind it.

[Day 0, 2011 - 06:50:12, Credenhill, UK]

Modern warfare was a man’s world.

Everyone knew it, everyone acknowledged it. It was as if there was this unvisible barrier surrounding certain aspects of the life, unwritten rules memorized by many soldiers.

No one would speak about it, nor would anyone bother to, but everytime the guns were locked and loaded, fuels of engines were replenished and explosives were strapped - it was one of the many things running rampant in your mind.

Though you had been young compared to the others, having some considerable amount of years of service under your belt had shown you that some truths were indeed hard to swallow. Yet they had to be accepted nonetheless - it was just the way things worked in your line of duty. After all, it had been just one of the many facts of the matter that you were forced to suppres deep down into your subconscious, along with many emotions associated with them.

They taught you how to suck in your much-preserved pride as you crawled in deep gravel and dirt, your skin a mess made out of mud. As you collapsed out of dehydration during the trek in the jungles, only to be pulled back to your feet to face yet another barked order. As you roared in pain when a bullet lodged itself into your flesh, twice as loud as it was pulled out.

They never taught you how not to miss the fallen, the friend and the comrade, or how to forget about those nightmares creeping into your being at night.

It had taken a lot of pondering and controlling your mental before stepping onto that plane and getting flown out to Credenhill. Being placed on the reserve regiment for some time had gotten to you - it felt like an eternity since you had been out in the field, deployed on an assignment. Weeks that had been filled with gathering intelligence and running strategy behind operations would slowly transform themselves into lots of pushups and reloading, that you had absolutely no doubt about.

However, spoken in the silent mumble of your lips, you prayed your body did not betray you - operating behind screens and files was lightwork compared to the drills that you suspected Captain Price would put you through. At some point the muscle memory would kick in, that was for sure, yet what concerned you was how long it would take till that eventually came true.

One step at a time, Sergeant.

It indeed was a beautiful day out. The rays of sunshine out in the vast concrete of the base courtyard emanated within the short sleeves, providing some much-needed warmth and comfort. Not much time had been given as you arrived on base - “get yourself to the range right away, soldier,” were the instructions that had followed the moment your feet touched the earth in the forsaken hours of the early morning.

Task Force 141. Now, that was a nice mouthful for classic selection training, considering the fact that you had been shipped out to the common 22nd Regiment training compound, the choice baffling you. Operating behind enemy lines within a covert squad certainly could not work when you were right where the enemy expected you to be - one of the main training bases of the entire Special Air Service. He must have been planning something substantial yet hidden behind plain sight - it had been impossible to get a word out of the renown Captain ever since he had approached you in London - in broad daylight, much to your added surprise in hindsight.

That meant you would just have to wait and see.

As your light steps took you towards the armory, clad in your gear of tactical shirt and pants with all the holsters strapped in place, there was a certain mix of emotions harbored in your heart and resonated within your being. Some confusion due to the lack of direction in your assignment.

And then, even though faint, came in a deeply-lodged sense of peace. How everything seemed to fit just a bit tighter, a little bit better - the perfect little adjustment to the crooked painting on the wall. The atmosphere of the green hangars and tents, the smell of tank engine fuel with the sound of shell casings dropping, one after the other, in soft clinks. The constant rush and the ever-lasting adrenaline.

There was a certain habituality to it, an accustomed year’s ease and some beauty in the routine of it all - and your soul had apparently longed for it for too long.

Welcome to your new home.

“Glad you made it, Sergeant,” a familiar face would greet you as bright lights hit you upon entering the hangar, his hand gesturing towards the guns laid out on the table. Nodding your head with a small smile, you would oblige.

“I trust you know the drill. Report back to me after you’re comfortable with the rifle - Captain Price wants to see you.”

That made your jaw clench in anticipation, or was it more of a bottled worry? Whatever it had been, it certainly did help as your bullets rained down on target after target, getting used to the weight of the rifle within your hands - while some shots had been a bit lacking, it did not take too many attempts for you to get back into the groove. The metallic sounds of fake targets lowering and the explosions helping you remember.

Footsteps behind you as yet another target went down in a screeching rusty sound. It seemed like he had chosen to watch, after all. “Not bad. Might even be a bit better than the FNG,” Gaz would comment on your shooting - which you believed was his attempt at being as nice as possible - as you turned your body to face him, your grip on the weapon in front of you relaxed. That earned him a little cocking of your eyebrow, tilting your head in a newfound curiosity.

“FNG?”

And there came the words, along with a nod.

“Fresh out of Selection. His name is Soap.”

There it was again. That name. Now, you had heard your fair share of silly little nicknames thrown around to soldiers - the kinds that stuck with them forever. This had to make the list of the best you had heard.

What the hell kind of a name is Soap, anyway?

It was like he read your mind, noticing that silent pause coupled with the upwards curl in your lips - returning the smile lightheartedly as he gestured you to follow him outside. “Weird name, eh? Captain was not willing to take it easy on him,” he commented as he walked alongside you to the far hangar, the fresh air hitting you along with the grumbles and low roars of the armor passing by.

“I bet,” you returned, a slight chuckle on your lips. Your tone growing just a tad bit lower, softer and meaningful just before the comfortable silence of your walk was cut off at the entrance of your destination.

“It’s good to see you, Kyle.”

“Likewise,” he acknowledged, giving you the type of understanding nod shared between old comrades alike - gesturing you to enter through the vast metal doors as you took a deep breath in your slightly nervous state due to the unknowns behind that hangar wall.

Orders were barked, audible even right from the entrance as you heard commotion. A replica of an obstacle course was occupying most of the space, the Union Jack and the SAS emblem proudly hanging next to each other on the far end. Shots were being fired, and you could hear the heavy footsteps sprint down the wooden flooring.

On the left side, which quickly became your next focal point, stood your new team - a few soldiers huddled up and clad in blackout tactical gear, watching the monitors to perhaps gauge how well the soldier running the course was doing. And of course there he was - the signature beard was recognizable from miles away as he leaned into the microphone installed, practically yelling to the intercom even though the poor soldier was most likely double-hearing him with the echoes of his tone.

His voice followed after a couple more final gunshots dropped in the distance - "Sprint to the finish!"

As you advanced towards observation with Gaz announcing your presence, you could not help but note the uniforms. Completely blacked out gear, light waxed material. Fit for a night time operation - in and out, close quarter combat. Relatively not too heavy material that would last in water and land. It made you wonder what your next mission would look like already.

“Welcome back into the fight, Sergeant,” the familiar commanding voice spoke, the blue eyes softening ever so slightly upon the sight of you yet never losing professionalism.

“It’s good to be back, Sir,” came your response, standing still and awaiting orders as you took a look around your surroundings once more - the static of the screens helping just a tad to numb your mind as you felt all pairs of eyes in that room were focused in on you.

Nothing you had not handled before, so you stood up even straighter - and put a brave face, jaw clenched.

“We’ll debrief for the mission ahead once the FNG carries himself over,” he instructed all the others, his tone sounding almost tired of dealing with the new guy, as the other soldiers that you could not really recognize behind the dark fabric chuckled. With the grip on your weapon relaxed, you continued to hold it against your chest like you were trained to do, losing yourself in the gentle upheaval of the base behind you. The smell of cordite coming in closer, it was followed by residual panting and boots against concrete.

“Pretty good, Soap. But I’ve seen better.”

As you searched for the body to finally associate the name to, it did not take long for you to spot yet another pair of blues, these ones a bit stormy and icy in the little specks - piercing nonetheless. Tall, you would note, as his built legs took him towards the monitors you stood near. His chest heaved in a mild rhythm, the weapon clad iron tight in his gloved hands - in the split second that you had gazed at him, you would also spot his mohawk, which he surprisingly sported well.

Oh.

What intrigued your curiosity more was that he was staring right at you too - the clenching of his jaw indicated that he was trying not to, for too long. In an attempt to break the uncomfortable nature of the interaction, he would nod in an almost respectful way, though there had been some sort of light reflecting in his irises.

It was Captain Price’s authoritative voice and the clearing of his throat that brought you back to reality, from that interlude which felt like it lasted almost forever. After a soft nod of acknowledgement thrown at the man, your focus was again redirected back to your officer in command, awaiting your next assignment.

“Listen up - the cargo ship mission is a go. Get yourselves sorted out. Wheels up at 0200. Dismissed.”

A plethora of strong echoes of yes, sir rang throughout the space, the tone intensified at the hinted urgency of the mission. Perhaps you should not have been so surprised when Captain Price called out your name, beckoning you to come hither.

“Sergeant, it’s your turn to run the CQB test. See if you can get the squadron record broken, eh?”

Maybe it was your eyes lying to you in the early hours of the morning but you could have sworn you saw Gaz’s smile from the edge of your vision as he headed out from the hangar, with the FNG trailing right beside him, sunlight seeking to outline his broad back to you, adorned by the weapon strapped down. With no other evident choice presented to you other than following orders, you did so - this time, with much more purpose.

Was it the fact that you trusted Price with your life? Or was it how you fought side by side in the trenches with Gaz, as dirt and bullets rained down over you both? Was it the way the squadron welcomed you in without question nor judgement, without having their eyes trail down all over you laced in other intentions?

Was it the brief eye contact you had with yet another new soldier into the squadron that told you, somewhere deep within your subconscious, that everything would be just fine?

This de novo sense of excitement and vigor within you, originating from an unknown source led you towards the ladder with considerable ease - you would not notice the way Soap’s eyes lingered on you just for the briefest of moments, turning back before stepping out of the sliding doors - before Gaz eventually and practically dragged him out by his arm.

And that night, during the only time he got to write in his journal before the looming mission, Sergeant MacTavish would start, while his memory was still fresh, the hard lines and edges of the very, very rough sketch which would end up as his most prized artwork - a drawing of you.

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[stagbells]

Summerdew and Sweet Kisses

From: @daikoski

To: @strawberryaeris

Written work under readmore!

notes: hello!! i had lots of fun writing this, it was such a joy to work on! it’s my first time writing lacenet, so i hope you enjoy!! summertime love :D

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It’s date night, and Lace has full reign on what they’re doing today.

It’s less of a spoken thing and more a silent agreement that one of them can take the lead and decide what sort of day the two will share together. Whether it be cozying it up at home, or working on individual projects with the other close by, going hunting, or seeking out a new activity to share, most of everything is free game when it comes to them. 

To which, she’s deliberately chosen something new.

Hornet had mentioned one time, in idle conversation, that she’d never really swam for the sake of it. If anything, it was a shortcut, if she couldn’t easily cross the body of water with her needle and silk. That she hadn’t really considered it as a fun passing of time, a recreational activity of sorts.

Well. Neither had Lace, but the thought of it now sounds far more appealing now that they’ve both claimed better lives for each other, for Hornet’s family, doesn’t it? It’s safer now, and they’re easing into a life beyond just fine, but something good instead. 

And... there are plenty of beautiful, isolated spots within the land that Lace has seen, and what better to enjoy it than with her darling? 

And what a pretty little area it is too; a pond, hidden within the depths of a lush grove. hidden, but with evidence of prior life, if the cute wooden dock is any indicator. The surface of the pond is scattered with aquatic plants in little vibrant clusters, pearls of colour that sway with the breeze. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to enter the water, dear?” 

From her spot, with Hornet sitting perched on the dock, dangling her peets into the water and swishing them around in such a way that makes Lace laugh, before settling her always so composed regard on her, she looks nothing less than perfect. And also very wary of getting wet beyond that.

Cute. 

“I’m considering it,” is just enough of a not-response that Lace hums, a touch understanding, a touch mischievous. Ah yes. She’s considering it. 

Hornet has been sitting on the edge of the dock for almost an hour now, the two making idle conversation as they enjoy the balmy air that’s heavy-sweet with ripening fruits and bright flowers, hot to the point of being almost unbearable, but alas, she is still considering it. 

Such a shame.

Lace splashes the unsuspecting spider. 

Not a full-on wave, of course, she isn’t that mean, but as of now, a little urging on her part wouldn’t hurt, and Hornet immediately shields herself from the water. The top-half of her cloak is soaked.

“Lace—!” 

“Yes?” Her voice as innocent as she is not, she merely swishes her hands within the water, propelling herself back a bit from the dock before holding her hands out in gesture, as if to catch Hornet if she were to dive in. “My, dearest, do you need any help with that? You’re already halfway there!”

“My silk is going to melt, and my things could rust...” 

“A little water won’t hurt, but if you need a place to keep them, there’s a little nook over there that’ll keep them safe.” Shrouded by bits of sweet grass and soft soil, it’s a perfect spot to keep anything important safe. Besides, they’re both well aware that both of their belongings are far sturdier than that...

“If you had wanted me in the water so bad, you could have asked.” 

Kind of haphazardly, more deliberate than not, Hornet unburdens herself of all the little tools and trinkets she keeps within her cloak, before finally sliding into the water. (It’s a mess, but a mess that she understands and who is Lace to question that.) 

“There. I’ve removed everything from my pockets, and I’m here now.” Her tone is just a touch grumpy, though that’s easily dismissed with the way Lace can feel the faint stutter-rumble of her purr as she rests a hand on Hornet’s chest.

“Cute, but I think the little questions I’ve scattered into our conversation were not given much heed.”

“Maybe if you asked again...” Ah, now that is most certainly petulance. “You’re enjoying making a fool of me today, aren’t you?”

Hornet’s claws are carefully gripping her own, smaller hand, and Lace brushes the pad of her thumb over her now damp fur. The distant, light waves that carry them ever so slightly kind of pushes her to Hornet, and she can only smile wider at the way her lover’s claws go to brace her gently.

“Ahh, my apologies, I'm not trying to be mean!” 

“Really.”

“Mm. At least, just a little bit.”

“So you do admit it.”

“And you must believe me, dearheart, when I say I have no ill intent~!” 

Intentionally, Lace lets her mandibles curl in a teasing, honey-sweet manner that always has Hornet unable to look away for just a little bit, and she relishes in the attention just as much as the way her darling swats a wave of water her way in reciprocation.

Because even if she says it in a teasing way, going so far to jab her elbow lightly into Hornet’s side with a laugh, she hopes that the cute spider knows she means every word of it. 

Because she’s something wonderful, isn’t she? Direct in a way that’s refreshing, because how often is it that Lace gets to experience something like that? Sharp and honest (and even if she does sometimes struggle with expressing her feelings, she’s still honest) and it’s in such a way that makes Lace want to be the same towards her, be something more open, more real.

...Weird concept, and Lace finds herself laughing to herself, just a little trill of delight. 

Yes, but nothing could ever make her stop wanting to tease the spider. Her reactions are so cute after all! 

But, her sappiness can be saved for later. Not when there’s currently the cute culprit of these thoughts right in front of her. It’s fun to splash around and goad her dearest on into something of a playfight, one that results in the both being absolutely drenched, but it’s just as nice to relish the coolness of the water against her shell, and in turn be able to admire the many facets such a new experience has brought upon Hornet’s visage. 

Cute.

Such as the vague flit of surprise that had so graced the spider’s face when Lace had dunked herself beneath the water; not so many bugs feel comfortable doing such a thing, after all. Or the fond, subdued smile that quirks her fangs just so with each sharp banter that slips so naturally out. It’s nice. 

And when the sunlight becomes something a bit too bright and Lace can see the films of Hornet’s eyes try to flick up as she winces from it, she can’t help but bump shoulders with her, before drawing her hand over the smoothness of Hornet’s mask in an unsubtle way of blocking the light, for even just a moment. 

“You’re getting water in my eyes,” Hornet half-protests, fangs scrunching but looking so much more relaxed now, and Lace can only think of it as a job well done. 

She had purposefully made it so that they would go out later in the day anyways; noonlight was something so sharp sometimes, but alas, even in the evenings can the sunlight bother her dearest like so. They continue like that for a good while longer, idly floating about and conversing, one instigating another splash war on occasion.

It’s all fun and games until they have to get out of the water.

Hornet, the poor little thing, looks just a bit miserable as she works on flicking the water from the tufts of fur that lines her body, chelicerae working ever so slightly concentration. Well, it’s good she’s come prepared.

“Here you are, lover!” Easily tossing a towel around Hornet’s shoulders, Lace gives it a light tug to pull her spider down to press a little kiss and a nuzzle against the side of her mask.

“You planned for this.” Hornet is nothing short of accusatory, and she laughs, just letting a playful hum be her response as she helps tumble dry her.

“What, to trick you into the water so I can give you a kiss?” 

Could it really be considered such a devious plan when she was planning on kissing her either way? Endearing thought, especially since Hornet herself is the one to go through some length to muster up something as direct as asking for a kiss. Usually all she’d need to do is start purring up a storm to leave Lace as the one giving the kisses!

At some point, Hornet had cuddled up to her, both drying beneath the steady heat of the sun, but indulging in the warmth of one another for as long as they were allowed. Laying back onto the wood of the deck, peaceful and soft and warm, where the only sounds were that of trickling water and slowing breathing.

Despite appearances, Hornet can be quite the cuddler, curling herself as close as possible to Lace, little tail and everything looping around her as she dozes. Well, this is her fate now. 

She doesn’t have the heart to move and disrupt Hornet from a well-deserved nap, even if the way they cuddle always traps her beneath her weight. Not until the sun begins to fall, and the faint glimmers of the starlight begin to settle in, does Lace think of stirring the spider. 

This is the sight she wanted to share with her, after all. To deliberately take a moment and enjoy the sight the massive void above has to offer, with all its strange mysteries and stories to tell. Stories she only really heard as a grub, but ones she’s more than willing to try and scrounge up to share with her lover if she so asked...

“Hello there, darling,” Lace carefully nudges her girlfriend awake, and Hornet untucks her face from the crook of her neck. “The sky is clear tonight, take a look.” 

(There’s no teasing note to her voice—there’s no need to bring it forth, rather. Not when everything is so quiet, so subdued, and Hornet is still shaking off the last lingering bits of sleep from her eyes, looking so peaceful and comfortable that the sight brings an ache forth in her chest.)

(That this is something they both get to have.)

“It’s night time already?” Hornet murmurs, twisting herself to lay on her back, “Would you not get cold?” The sleepy note to her normally composed and cold voice is something so cute, and Lace leans in to give her a little nuzzle. 

“No, and even if I do, I have you, as well as the shawl you had weaved for me so kindly.” And alongside that, the soft, genuine fondness in her own voice is still something so faintly unfamiliar, yet so nice. She could get used to it. 

Hornet flushes a bit, perhaps at the prospect that Lace had decided to take the gift she had made for her along in case the night air became chilly, before letting a little ‘mrr’ of disappointment out. 

“I am not sure if we should stay out so late...” she begins, before gesturing a bit vaguely, “that, and I had mistakenly assumed we were to return home by nightfall, so...”

Ohh, are her siblings expecting her?

Lace sits up, and unable to help it, stares for a moment. It clicks. Right. They usually go hunting during their dates, two belflies with one stone so to say. 

“Did you leave your siblings at home with nothing to eat?” is her automatic question, more concerned for Hornet than anything else. Hornet sits up as well, adjusting her cloak.

“Not nothing.” Hornet frowns, but there’s a small smile hidden, tucked away beneath her mask and Lace knows she’s not truly upset at her question, “they’re most likely eating as we speak. And if they so happen to finish all of our food at home, neither are the type to allow the other to go hungry anyways...” so they could very well be hunting, too.

“Ah, but I can tell you still dislike the notion of leaving them without a fresh meal.” Lace points out, and Hornet leans into her side a bit. 

“...Yes.”

“Cute! If it so soothes you, my worrier, then we can take a little detour. I wouldn’t mind if this date takes a turn for our usual.” Carefully extracting herself from Hornet’s hold, Lace hops up with ease to swipe up her belongings—including her pin.

Hornet visibly hesitates—and by visibly, there’s the slightest press of her claws against Lace’s arm, just a light pressure as if to gently tug her back to her side—before she too stands. Not one to leave things undone, not one to linger, but oh, so it seems for the both of them, lingering is just so much easier nowadays...

“Apologies...” she mumbles, and whether it be due to cutting their plans short, or the hesitation, Lace hums affectionately to comfort her. “We could stay a little longer?”

“We can always go stargazing another day, my dear. And hunting with you is always a treat, there's nothing to apologize for.” and with a little nuzzle, the two are on their way.

(A part of her delights so wonderfully at the fact she’s come to pick up so many of Hornet’s cues; not when so few bugs can say the same, and it makes her preen with a silly sweet sort of pride. Hers, just as much as she is Hornet’s.)

It isn’t until they’re both following an easy scent trail that Hornet speaks up again, breaking that routine silence and looking beautifully dangerous in the moonlight, needle and silk carrying her onwards.

“...Did you call me your ‘warrior’ or ‘worrier’?”

Pfft!

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

...

“I suppose I’ll just earn back my title as your warrior with this hunt.”

[anjanettexcordonia]

Secrets

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir A/U

Rating/Triggers: Mature (18+); domestic violence

Pairings: Drake x MC, Liam x MC (kinda) 

Word count: 1254 (+/-)

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors. 

A/N: I have been on a hiatus due to personal circumstances (Dumpster Fire 2021 comin at ya) but this is hopefully my comeback! Thanks for sticking with me! 

Disclaimer: Some characters & some scenes belong to Pixelberry. I have been working on this on and off since November 2020. Hope ya enjoy. 

Tags: If you would like to be added or removed please let me know. 

HUGE SHOUT OUT TO @txemrn (without her I would have never finished) & @jessiembruno for pre-reading (even if you don’t remember) 

Chapter 1

Liam sat alone at a small circular table with high backed cushioned stools in a pizzeria in New York City. He couldn’t ever visit New York without having an authentic slice of New York style pizza. He sat staring out the large picture window at the snow falling steadily. A large greasy slice of in front of him. He was consumed in his own feelings of loneliness and isolation when the silhouette of a figure caught his attention standing on the sidewalk. He squinted his eyes to try to get a better view through the falling snow. Liam watched as a petite raven haired woman with a white pea coat wrapped tightly around her attempted to hail a cab in front of the shop. A cab flew by her and spewed snow at her causing her to slip on the icy sidewalk beneath her. Liam jumped from his table and ran out the front door of the restaurant to help her. 

“Miss, are you okay?” Liam asked as he held out his hand to the beautiful dark haired woman. 

“Oh... uh... I’m fine. Thank you, uh, thank you for your help sir.” 

The woman replied brushing her long blue black tendrils from her face. She attempted to pull herself from the ground unsuccessfully without taking his hand. Liam hoisted her up by her elbow anyway. 

“I’m Liam.” His bright blue eyes shown through the moonlight drawing Alexa into them.

Alexa took a step back avoiding eye contact. “Liam, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Liam nodded his head with a warm smile. A megawatt smile that would make any girl's heart skip a beat. Alexa’s breath hitched at the crooked smile he gave her. 

“Goodbye then.” Alexa turned and walked away in the opposite direction. 

Liam was intrigued by the woman. He felt a strange tingle down his spine when his eyes met hers. Those eyes. He had never seen anything like them. One eye a golden honey, the other ice blue with flecks of grey. He hoped to see her again; but, in this bustling city with the population of almost half of his small Mediterranean country, what were the chances of that? 

 Liam stood in silence, staring up at the Statue of Liberty. She was a beacon of freedom he could never fully grasp. At home, he was Heir Apparent to the throne of an absolute monarchy; his citizens kissed his feet in belief his bloodline was touched by God, like most kings of the past.  Unlike in his country, the United States of America, where every citizen was free to choose. Free to elect their leaders. Free to not feel the pressures of leading a country from birth. He hoped to be a good king one day. He hoped to establish a balance of power within his country without undermining its traditions. He hoped to lead his country to a constitutional monarchy, not absolute. He envied this country that was built on freedom. Who would he have been born here? Who would he be without the crown? He thought back to his childhood friend, the only American he really knew. He had met American diplomats, sure, but never knew much about them. Those mismatched eyes flash in his mind. The shiny dark curls that framed those beautiful eyes hidden deep in his mind. 

“Sir?” 

A voice startled Liam breaking his thoughts and snapping him back to reality. 

“Bastien?” 

Liam’s head of security had slinked from the shadows. 

“We found him, sir. I’ve contacted his secretary. Dinner is scheduled for tomorrow night.” The guard spoke in a stern yet soft voice. 

“Thank you, Bastien.” Liam’s thoughts returned to his former friend. 

Drake Walker was his best friend. They grew up together until Drake went off to college in America. Drake's mother was an American and his father was Cordonian. His father was a top military general in the King’s Guard. Jackson Walker, Drake’s father, was killed in the line of duty and his mother and sister went back to America after his tragic loss. They had promised to stay in touch after Drake left. Time ticked by and communication had dwindled. It had been five years since they had last spoken. Last Liam knew, Drake was still in New York. He had become a big shot real estate developer living on the Upper East Side. Bastien had tried to contact Drake after an assassination attempt on Liam’s life, but Drake never returned the call. 

Across town, Alexa was feeling anxious after her encounter with the kind stranger, Liam. If she had been seen conversing with a handsome man or any man for that matter her husband would not be happy, especially as handsome as he was. His smile and bright eyes flashed through her mind. She was rushing to get home before her husband. He wouldn’t be happy if she were late. Punctuality was very important to him, but only when it came to her. 

Alexa made it home just in the nick of time. She let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t home yet. She was hoping he would be late. Alexa winced, peeling her coat from her limbs. She hung her coat on the coat rack. She threw her snow covered boots in the hall closet. She felt a stinging pain in her back when she bent down. She lifted her shirt in the hallway mirror and saw a bright purple bruise from her fall forming. Fuck, he will have questions if he sees this.. 

“Alexa, where are you?” 

She heard the front door open and keys being tossed furiously on the entry table. 

“Hello, dear,” Alexa rounded the hallway to the living room. “Um, how--how was your day?” she stutters. 

“It was fine,” he answered coldly, his gaze glued to his phone. “I received a strange phone call on my way home.” 

“Oh?” Alexa felt her heart begin to race. Surely no one saw me. “From who?”

He scoffs. “An old friend from childhood would like to have dinner tomorrow night. 6pm sharp. Nobu.” He kicks off his shoes as he feverishly texts on his cell. “You will meet me there. Do not dress too provocatively. And try  not to embarrass me this time.” She could sense the aggravation in her husband’s voice. “I’m going to change and go out. Don’t wait up.” 

Alexa stared at her feet as she nodded her head complacently.

The next evening, Alexa stared at herself in the mirror in a black chiffon dress with plunging neckline and strappy Christian Louboutins. Her long dark hair flowed in loose curls down her back. She was already dreading this dinner. She knew her husband would find something she did to humiliate him;she would regret it later. She arrived promptly at the upscale restaurant. Her husband was waiting with the maitre’d for her. He forced a smile. 

“Alexa,” he placed his hand on her lower back. Her skin crawled at the feel of his hand “Do not embarrass me,” he whispered as he guided her to the private table. 

“Drake,” the man at the table said warmly. 

“Rhys, so good to see you,” Drake said in a tone Alexa didn’t recognize. His tone was calm and smooth. 

“And who’s this?” The warm baritone voice of her husband’s childhood friend asked. 

“This is my wife Alexa Walker. Lex, this is Liam.” 

Alexa’s head immediately snapped up at the name. Liam immediately recognized her unique eyes, an instant connection flowed through the room, almost tangible.

Domestic Abuse Hotline: 1.800.799.SAFE

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, part seventeen

You weren’t sure how to feel. You were confused and upset and angry. And at the end of the day, Harry storming out of the house only felt like it confirmed your fears: he would leave. 

He did, right?

He left, even if he came back and shut himself in his office. He left, even if he popped out only when Jane cried, before you could wave him off and say you could handle whatever it was and didn’t need his help.

But the bottom line was that your emotions came out and that scared him away. You tried to hold it back and you tried to avoid the conversation because no matter how hard you tried, you didn’t see a world where the ending of that scene would look any different.

A few days later and things had settled down, he cooled off and you gave each other enough space when you passed in the hallway or sat on the couch at night and watched the news. Things felt tense inside the house and outside, too. 

Which is why, four days later, you were sat uncomfortably in a chair next to Glenne in some restaurant in Hollywood. 

“This is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever done.”

“Oh stop,” she waved you off, a full 180 from the Glenne you once knew. 

She didn’t seem to completely understand what you were saying. Your eyes trailed down the table, Lexi was busy chatting with a girl you’d met a few times. The band was there, Jeff, other faces and names that offered hugs and hellos as if you’d been around the whole time. 

But that wasn’t what made you uncomfortable.

“Oh,” Glenne’s mouth set in a firm line when she saw what you saw. She leaned in and let her voice drop lower. “She worked on the album, I think, helped write a song or two.”

“I don’t care,” you lied, picked up the drink in front of you and took a sip through the black straw. Another gulp, maybe you could ease the knots in your stomach with more alcohol. 

He’d been nice leading up to this, said he liked your dress when you sat awkwardly in the car on the drive here. He got Jane bathed and dressed when you got ready, passed her off to your mom for the night after she made the drive down from Santa Paula. 

But his arm was slung around the back of her chair now, he nodded and smiled when she said something funny, leaned in to hear her over the noise of the restaurant as if they were old friends.

Glenne sipped her own drink, kept her eyes focused on the two of them, just like you. “She’s nice, she’s not someone you need to worry about.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, hopefully more convincing this time. “We’re not together--he can do what he wants.”

She turned to look at you, her eyebrows arched when she held her straw between her fingers and took a pull. “Right,” she laughed. 

“I mean it, Glenne.”

“What do you mean?” Jeff materialized behind you both, pulled out his chair on the other side of his girlfriend and rejoined the table.

“Y/N’s just going on about how her and Harry aren’t together,” Glenne looked up at Jeff, offered him a sweet smile when he bent down to kiss her on the head. 

Jeff laughed at this, smiled over at you and placed his napkin on his lap. “But like, you’re not not together, right?”

“We’re just not together. One ‘not.’ It’s not a thing.”

They both looked at you, straight-faced and expectant, like suddenly you’d let out a laugh and admit this was all a silly joke. “What?” You asked.

“Nothing,” Jeff shrugged. “Just, I thought things were going well.”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes at his words, thankful to feel more comfortable having an honest conversation with both of them. “Things can be going well and that still doesn’t mean we’re together.”

“Yeah, but, things were, like, all sweet and cute after she was born and--”

You cut Jeff off, held up a hand to avoid having the same conversation with Glenne from the other night. “Our focus is Jane.”

He nodded, shrugged as if to imply that yes, of course it was. 

Somehow, miraculously, Lexi decided it was time to hop into the conversation, too. She turned around beside you, smiled when she saw that you’d all been congregating right beside her. With a grin on her face; “hi, what’s up?”

“Y/N and Harry are being weird again,” Jeff laughed a little before you offered him a narrowed glare. 

“What? Why?” Lexi pulled her head back as if this was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.

“Since when do all of you like to team up against me? Didn’t all of you used to think that this was a bad idea?”

“Not me,” Lexi held her hands up to show innocence. 

“Okay, fine,” you corrected. “You two did, though.”

Jeff and Glenne looked at each other and smiled a bit. Maybe the alcohol had gotten to them. Maybe everyone was just relaxed and enjoying the birthday celebrations. 

“Opinions change,” was all Jeff offered.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, well, mine hasn’t. It’s not happening.”

“Because you’re afraid?” Lexi’s words caught you off guard. You turned to eye her, gave some sort of we’re not doing this here look.

“Stop,” was all you said.

“What?” She laughed. “You know I’m right.”

“Let’s just not.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. I love you, but you’re getting in your own way.”

You picked up your drink and took a sip, hoping that it’d be enough of an excuse to relieve you of having to answer. 

Jeff offered a hesitant smile, like it pained him to admit it: “she’s right.”

“This is not a good place for us to have this conversation,” you said, their suddenly strong opinions crashed over you like a tidal wave. What happened to not letting things get messy? What happened to following the rules like they’d wanted and staying out of trouble?

Lexi mowed over your statement. “You’re afraid, which is fine, but don’t make us pretend that we don’t see through it.”

“Alright, I’m not doing this.” You pushed your seat back from the table to leave. 

“Doing what?” Lexi asked, more frustrated with you.

“Lexi,” Glenne reached out a hand to settle her. “Let it go.”

“Oh so I’m the only one who can be honest with her?”

“Being honest isn’t license to be a dick,” you said.

She rolled her eyes at that and let her hands drop to her lap. “Fine, whatever.”

You reached for your purse and offered Glenne and Jeff a smile. “I’ll see you guys later.”

They didn’t chase after you, they let you slip out to the parking lot, call an uber, and stand there by yourself atop the asphalt and hurt feelings. 

As if Lexi hadn’t been enough, Harry stepped out to the hidden back alley after a few minutes. 

“Hi,” he said, looking you up and down. “Y’heading out?”

“Yeah,” you offered a smile. “I’m just tired, but, I’m fine.”

Quiet for a second when he hesitated, unsure if he should let you go and unsure if he had the right to stop you. “I saw your mom’s text.”

“Yeah, she’s been asleep for a while, no issues.”

“S’good.”

“Yeah.”

A pause in the night air, he shifted his weight on his feet and for a second, you thought he’d ask you to stay. 

“You don’t have to wait here with me,” you told him, clicked your phone to life to see the driver’s ETA. “I called an uber, should be here in three minutes.”

He nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, yeah, I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yep,” you nodded, smiled when he turned on his heel and let the door to the swanky restaurant close behind him. He was already gone, but you whispered it anyway. “Happy birthday.”

**

He said he loved the goofy apron you bought him, simple and blue, the word DAD was etched on the front. You signed the card from both of you, left it on the counter that night when you got home. He found it sometime when he keyed in late and brought it up the next day. 

But it wasn’t as awkward as walking into the tiny room somewhere in Burbank a almost two weeks later. Jane was in the carseat on the floor and a woman with short brown hair smiled after you handed her back the paperwork you signed. 

“So--you said on the phone that you’ve been struggling with anxiety?”

You gave her an unsure nod, shouldn’t she be telling you whether or not that was the case?

“And who’s this?”

“Jane--she should sleep the whole time, I think.”

She smiled. Cassie, a therapist who’s profile came up when Glenne lovingly sent you the link to a website search for therapists. She was young enough, smiled down at Jane and sat back in her chair once she set the clipboard on her desk behind her. 

“How old is she?”

“Six weeks.”

She held a hand to her heart and smiled. “How’s that been going?”

You told her about the start of it all, that night at Harry’s and the anxiety that settled in your bones in the Facebook bathroom when you saw the first tiny plus sign. She managed to keep a straight face when you name dropped Jane’s father, a good sign. Or maybe she thought you were crazy and making it up. Either way, you spent the first session just catching her up on the last nine months.

Before that, your life had been quiet. Sure, maybe some unresolved feelings around your parents or tough times in high school like the rest of the world. But whatever lurked beneath the surface had never been shaken up so much until now, like a snowglobe knocked from its shelf, typically settled pieces now swirling in the air around you with no hope of slowing down.

The second session the next week was similar, but that’s when she pushed a little harder. 

“But things are totally fine with Harry?”

You nodded. “Yeah--I mean, like I told you last week things were kind of messy for a bit, but they’re fine now.”

“You mentioned that you fought with him recently?”

This time Jane wasn’t there to be a distraction. You lied this morning and told Harry you were meeting Lexi for a coffee, but the truth was that you hadn’t spoken to her since his birthday. He promised he’d take her for a walk and put on a new onesie if she threw up on herself. Leaving her was easier now, he seemed more confident in his ability to handle the things that might go wrong. 

But now you wished she was buckled in beside you, an excuse to change the topic or leave the room to change her diaper.

“I guess we fought--he was upset, I was upset.”

“What did you fight about?

“He uh--I guess he thinks we could be good together.”

“And you don’t?”

You shrugged, took a breath and looked around the room. How were you supposed to explain your thoughts to a woman you’d met twice? “I don’t know.”

She eyed you for a minute, the small smile on her face let you know she wanted more.

“I do have feelings for him, I guess.”

“You do?”

Another hesitant nod. “I think just cause of Jane, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, at first I swore it was just the hormones and you know--feeling like we had some weird bond.”

She smiled a little, understanding and encouraging. “You do have a bond.”

“I know, but--I just mean at first it felt like there was something there.”

“But it doesn’t now?”

You dropped her gaze at that. No--it wasn’t not there. “I guess my thought process is that it’s just too risky now.”

“What is?”

“Being with him, like, as a couple.”

“How so?”

You sighed--the questions were fair but you already felt exhausted. 

“None of this was planned--for a while it felt like he was only being nice to me cause he got me knocked up. He kind of had to be nice to me.”

“Do you really think that’s true? Do you think he would do that?”

“He’s a nice person,” you shrugged.

“But do you think he would ask you to move in and spend so much time with you and your family if he didn’t actually want to do those things?”

“I mean--no, I guess I only thought that for the first few weeks.”

She nodded thoughtfully, waited to see if you’d add any more. When you didn’t, she parted her lips to speak. “When did you realize he wasn’t just being nice to be nice?”

You thought back on the months you’d spent with him. The time you went to the beach and had a picnic, the nights at his house when he’d make dinner and when the panic that lurked in your tummy about the future felt like it had vanished. 

“I guess when we started spending more time together and I actually got to know him.”

Another nod. “So you were nervous at first, which makes sense to me. Do you still fear that that’s true?”

You already had the answer, it sat on your tongue and felt like it’d spill out any second. You glanced around the room, out the window to the sunny streets and wondered what would change if you admitted it.

“I know he won’t leave. I know he won’t just up and never speak to me--to us--again.” 

She waited for you to say more. 

“But why would he want to be with me? Why--out of all the people he could be with--would he pick the girl who got pregnant with his kid?”

She challenged this, a slight smirk on her face. “He might actually have feelings for you, you know.”

You made a face, shifted in your seat as if to send the message that it was impossible.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Her words were quiet, a sudden shift in the air in the room as if in any second, rain would pour from the ceiling or a wind would sweep her papers off the desk in the corner. Like everything in the world was hinging on the secret about to fall from your lips.

“People don’t stay in my life.”

She frowned at that, aware that she’d actually gotten something out of you now.

“Like who?”

“My last boyfriend, my dad--” the tears that welled in your eyes cut you off, you swallowed the emotion and wiped quickly, embarrassed to be crying in front of someone you’d only met twice.

“You said your parents got divorced when you were little?”

You nodded. “I don’t want Jane to grow up like I did.”

“Who says she will?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “But if him and I are together--if I let that happen--then he can leave, but he can’t leave me and hurt me or us if we’re not together.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Yes he can.”

“What?”

“Whether you’re actually in a relationship with him or not won’t change the emotions you have for him. It’ll still hurt if he leaves or backs out, even if you’re not romantically involved.”

You stared at her for a second, confused by her bluntness. Weren’t therapists supposed to make you feel better?

“I guess.”

She could read the look on your face and offered a small smile. “I’m not trying to freak you out--it just seems like you already love him, so it sounds like it would hurt either way.”

You didn’t reply. You took in a shaky breath of air when you tried to wipe at your cheeks and gain composure.

“It makes a lot of sense that you don’t want the same thing to happen to Jane, but you’ve been telling yourself that it will when you don’t know that. Sometimes when we try to avoid the past really hard we just recreate it.”

**

You took a few days to let it all sink in. You folded laundry and changed diapers and you took Jane on a walk near the beach with sunglasses and a hat. You never imagined that you’d need a disguise, too.

You’d settled back into a routine of climbing the stairs separately, his footsteps down the hall felt more weighted now with the insight you’d discovered in Cassie’s office. 

You tried to take space, not get too overwhelmed by the growing knowledge that you loved him, hopelessly and helplessly. You tried to tuck it away in a drawer beneath your sweaters, like somehow if you kept it out of sight it wasn’t true. 

But the world didn’t want to make it so easy. 

Your mom called and reminded that your upcoming birthday was the perfect excuse to have another party--one that more of your family could come to, a bigger and more public event than the quiet shower you’d kept under wraps. 

They were dying to meet Jane and she was dying to show off her granddaughter to the rest of the family and her friends back home. When you floated the idea to Harry of bringing Jane home with you for a long weekend, his brows furrowed.

“Without me?”

Jane was strapped to his chest at the kitchen counter, he was obsessed with the new wrap you’d gotten online and now he barely took it off. She kicked her legs against his abdomen.

“I mean--I figured we’d just get out of your hair for a while, some space--” you trailed off.

He let out a huff of air and dropped your gaze. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, I just--”

“But you’re doing it anyway?”

“Do you really not want me to go see my own family for my birthday?”

“Why can’t I come?”

“I didn’t know you’d want to,” you eyed him skeptically, smiled at Jane when she made eye contact with you and then started to whine. 

“I mean, yeah,” he said it quietly. “I’d like to.”

He offered to drive and a week later you were leaning into the backseat to adjust the toy rattle that hung from Jane’s car seat when he changed lanes on the 101. You’d already briefed him on the players: Aunt Lisa and uncle Melvin. Aunt Melissa and Uncle Mike. Your cousins Cassie, Eric and his boyfriend Tim, Shayna. Cousin Ryan and his wife Sam, their daughter Paige. Your mom’s best friend Tammy and her husband Bill. Their son, Luke.

“I’ll never remember all these people.”

“I don’t expect you to,” you laughed a little. “All you need to know is that Ryan and Sam are super sweet, everyone else is fine. Uncle Mel is a little too Republican for my taste, but, that’s just me. Oh, and Luke was my high school boyfriend. So some people might make comments about that, but it’s fine.”

He looked over to you from behind his sunglasses. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “We dated--we were like, sixteen.”

“How long did you date for?”

“I don’t know, like almost three years?”

“Almost three years?!”

“It was forever ago,” you tried to downplay it. You didn’t expect the reaction he gave. 

“Well, yeah, but--did you--”

“Yes,” you cut him off, waved a hand in his direction to get out in front of it. “I lost my virginity to him.”

He lifted his eyebrows at that, shifted in the driver’s seat and kept his eyes on the road. 

“Why does that matter?”

“It doesn’t,” he said, a shrug of his shoulders and a quick glance in the rearview mirror to see Jane. “Was just curious.”

You stared at the white lines on the road, watched as they blurred together when he accelerated on the gas. It was only an hour drive, you were there before noon and right in time for Jane to have another bottle. 

He was happy to greet everyone who was already there--just a few aunts and cousins who decided they’d help set up platters of food and bowls of juice before the rest of the crew arrived. They fussed over Jane, passed her around and tickled her cheeks, but Harry kept a close eye on whoever had her.

When more people showed up you were whisked away again, hugging cousins you hadn’t seen in ages and trying desperately to not sound like a fool for getting knocked up by a celebrity. Your cousin Carrie didn’t seem to think it was all that bad. 

“Not the worst thing in the world, though, right?”

You gave her a knowing look, fought the smile on your face when she elbowed you in the ribs. Carrie was closest to your age, only a year older and always so much cooler than you were growing up. 

“Come on, Y/N, he looks pretty good with a baby on his chest.”

“He’s been great with her so far,” you admitted. “I’m just trying to stay sane and deal with turning twenty-six.”

“Must be so hard,” your aunt Lisa pulled you in for a hug when she appeared behind you. “Dealing with a handsome man and a beautiful baby.”

You rolled your eyes at her teasing, hugged your uncle and let out a sigh. “I’m managing, but, you know, it’s been a wild year.”

“And you’ve handled it beautifully,” your mom chimed in, dropping off a cake on the table in the backyard. She kissed you on the cheek, “help me inside for a minute!”

You followed behind her, promised to come tell Carrie more of the_ dirty details_, as she put it. But the kitchen inside was quiet, your mom pulled out more serving dishes from the fridge and handed them to you when she spoke.

“Have you talked to him at all?”

You’d been watching him out the window, he tugged at Jane’s toes while she sat, happily, in your uncle Melvin’s arms. When you pulled your eyes over to hers, she eyed you suspiciously.

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, honey,” she rolled her eyes and let out a short laugh, shutting the fridge and taking inventory of the dishes she’d made. “I know you’re not sleeping all that much, but, I’m not that stupid.”

You sighed, held the bowl of pasta salad in your arms. “Not yet. Not now.”

“Sweetie,” she placed a hand on your shoulder and offered a look of sympathy. “You know what they say. He who hesitates is lost.”

“What?”

“Don’t waste your time,” she shrugged, her gaze immediately going back to food she still wanted to bring outside. Her attention was pulled away by commotion outside, another arrival of family who’d yet to meet your daughter.

And maybe she had a point, but you weren’t wasting time. Your time was spent standing over his shoulder as he learned how to change diapers. Sitting on the edge of the bed in the middle of the night when she wouldn’t stop crying. Thumbing through pages of parenting books or calling your mom instead of ripping out your hair. 

Pediatrician appointments and dodging the cameras that seemed to point your way when you stepped out of the fortress on the hill. 

And most importantly, protecting your daughter from the same heartbreak you felt your whole life: the one that comes along with a father who’s nowhere to be found.

**

You hadn’t expected the party to last so long, but the sun started to set and people still loitered around the backyard. 

Things quieted down though after dinner, your mom opened another bottle of wine with her sisters and Harry sat at the table with a beer in his hand as he listened to Eric and Tim recount their amazing vacation in Aruba. Jane was on his lap, getting fussier by the second after her evening feed.

You’d avoided it so far, a quick hello and minimal interaction, if only to save yourself an awkward conversation later that night. But when Luke sat down at the empty seat beside you--and directly across from Harry--you knew the night was about to get more interesting. 

“So Luke, Y/N told me you two have known each other for a long time,” Harry shifted his attention over to you, a small smile on his face when you locked eyes. 

Luke nodded, sipped at his own beer. “Yeah, God, we met when we were in seventh grade?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, a quick nod. “Do you want me to take Jane inside?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. She looked up at him with big blue eyes and then over at you when he smiled down at her. “She’s fine. And you two dated, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke laughed, smiling in your direction. “We spent a lot of time together in high school.”

“I heard,” Harry offered a quick chuckle, you tried to send a message with the narrowing of your eyes. 

“What a throwback,” you said sarcastically. 

“What is?” your mom was suddenly interested from the other end of the table, a tipsy smile on her face as she pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt she’d tossed on at the end of the night. 

You and Luke spoke at the same time, but your mumbled nothing didn’t sound as convincing as his answer: me and Y/N dating in high school.

Your mom smiled and held a hand to her chest, which made Tammy suddenly tune into the conversation from a few feet away as she chatted with Carrie. 

This made Harry more annoyed, but he hid it well. No one else could tell, probably, but you knew the way his lip twitched and he itched his neck when he didn’t like the way things were going. 

“I’m gonna take Jane inside,” you stood from the table and walked over to him with extended arms. Harry stood and set his beer on the table, I’ll come with you. 

Once you were alone inside, he started explaining before you could even give him a hard time. 

“I’m not trying to be a dick--just getting to know everyone.”

“By interrogating my high school boyfriend about our teenage relationship?”

He shut the door to the guest room and picked up Jane’s diaper bag from the floor. “What else am I supposed to talk to him about?”

“I don’t know--sports, music, anything.”

He rolled his eyes and took out the portable diaper mat. You undid her onesie after you tugged her shorts down. 

You held your hand out for a wipe. “You’re a jealous person, aren’t you?”

His brow furrowed, but he handed one over. “Never been told that before,” he tried to keep a straight face, but a giggle escaped his lips. 

“There’s nothing between me and Luke,” you promised, tossing the dirty wipe and diaper aside for him to dispose.

He handed you a clean one, picked up the travel-sized baby powder. “Yeah--I mean, you can do what you want, but--”

“I don’t want anything with Luke.”

You fastened the diaper around her hips despite the way she squirmed. He handed you the set of pjs you brought for her, found the swaddle in the bag and then sat on the edge of the bed. 

“But you don’t want anything with me, either.”

You let a breath escape your lungs, long and deflated. You’d had enough anxiety about bringing Harry here. But now there was a lurking feeling of nervousness in you about whether or not you’d ruin Jane’s sleep habits by interrupting her routine.

You wrapped Jane in her swaddle and picked her up, thankful for the heaviness of her eyelids when you started to rock her back and forth. “I don’t know what I want.”

You almost told him, laid it all out down the hall from your childhood room. But instead, he nodded, stood from the bed and opened his arms, a look of disappointment in his eyes. “I’ll take her,” he whispered. “Go spend time with your family.”

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author’s note: woooooowwwwww we are close to the end, pals! the next chapter will be the last one!!!!! 

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[officialleehadan]

Old Liar

Hello darlings! I hope you’re having a good day so far! Today’s story was brought to you by Kyle! Darling, thank you so much! I love seeing your comments!

Prompt: Forest Fell

+++

Yurik was the most frightening kind of spy. The kind who had lived long enough to get old.

His house was comfortable, with a small staff to make sure he never wanted for anything. Small knickknacks lined the book-field shelves of the library, where Yurik took them to talk. A word to one of his servants brought a tray of tea and snacks. Felmarin was cautious enough to check his cup and Elarria’s with a tiny curl of magic, it was clean of any poison he could find, and he drank with only a little hesitation.

If Yurik decided to kill him, there probably wasn’t much he could do about it. The old spy was certainly canny enough to work around Felmarin’s own protections, and there wasn’t much Felmarin could do if Yurik decided to simply shoot him in the chest with the crossbow that was half-hidden beside Yurik’s desk.

“So, you two, you come all this way, you need some help,” Yurik said when they were all settled into the library, and the servants were gone. “Takes some courage to step through a portal without knowing what’s on the other side. So, what brings you here?”

“We have a traitor in our midst,” Elarria said without preamble. Yurik decided to leave most of the talking to her unless Yurik asked him something directly. “Someone murdered the Magician Queen and blamed it on us. This whole war is based on a string of lies whispered in all the right ears. We need someone who can pick out the truth.”

“So you come to an old liar to fight this new one,” Yurik said thoughtfully. He sipped his tea, the picture of a deadly snake coiled up, waiting to see if the time was right to strike. He had run Avorhain’s spy network for longer than Felmarin had been alive, and he knew the world of spies better than anyone else still alive. “I’m retired, Princess. Your need is great, but I’m too old, and too tired for this.”

“There’s no one else we can trust,” Elarria told him softly. For a moment, Felmarin could see her fear written across her face before she hid it away again. “We don’t know who is an enemy, and who is not. Felmarin has sworn to protect me, and Yalla is safe, but there’s no telling what could happen. There have already been assassins.”

“I gave years of my life to my work,” Yurik said, kind, but unmoving. After a minute, he bent and hitched up his loose pant-leg. To Felmarin’s surprise, the leg beneath was enchanted metal. Yurik knocked on it once, and let his pant-leg fall again to cover the false leg. “I gave my leg, and no small amount of blood. You need someone younger.”

“We can’t trust anyone younger.”

“You shouldn’t trust me, Princess. You have no idea who I’ve been having over for tea.”

The way he said it was meant as a warning, but somehow it reassured Felmarin. Yurik didn’t want to come with them, or he was a better liar than anyone Felmarin had ever met to make it past an elvish ear for lies.

Either he was a clever traitor himself, or he truly didn’t want to leave his comfortable retirement for the dangerous intrigue of the courts.

“If we couldn’t trust you, you would have killed one of us the moment we came through the portal,” Felmarin said quietly. It was the first time he had spoken since they arrived, and Yurik fixed him with a sharp gaze. “Nobody knew where we were coming, only that we would be gone for a few hours. You could have killed her, and blamed me, or killed me, and ended the war. You could have poised this tea and killed us both. If you said there was an assassin, Avorhain would believe you.”

“You shouldn’t give me ideas,” Yurik told him, voice like gravel and just as dry. “You should be glad, elf, that I’m not fond of killing off my enemies face to face. If I got the chance to put a knife in your back, I might take it.”

“He’s sworn to protect me,” Elarria told him pointedly. She set her cup of tea down. Felmarin didn’t see her do it, but he thought she might be readying one of her hidden blades, just in case. Felmarin approved of her priorities, and readied his own magic. Healers were generally not considered a threat, mostly because most of them preferred not to cause harm. Felmarin led a harder life, and his magic responded. Between that and his blades, he could hold his own. “Yurik, if not for my sake, if not for peace, come back for my father. We need you. Only you.”

Yurik sighed and sat back in his chair to regard them with wise, keen eyes. His attention felt like a knife, sliding along Felmarin’s throat. He saw everything there was to see, and filed it away in his mind for whenever he needed it. That memory was probably why he made such a fine spy, Felmarin thought. A spy who could remember an entire sheet of paper at a glance, or could memorize a face in moments, was a valuable thing indeed.

“No,” he said, crushing their hopes with a word. “No, I’m too old, and too broken. I might have age and treachery on my side, but you need youth and enthusiasm.”

“We need treachery too, or we don’t stand a chance,” Elarria said, although Felmarin could tell that she was losing hope. Yurik was determined, and there was only so much they could do to talk him around. “Our enemy has treachery enough to drown us all. We need your help.”

“You don’t need my help,” Yurik said. He pushed himself to his feet and Felmarin hurried to stand with him, out of respect, if nothing else. “But I’ll tell you this. You do need help. The two of you have guts, but you don’t have much else, including good sense. Give me an hour. It might be that I know someone who can fill your need better than me.”

+++ Forest Fell:

Felmarin never expected to be ambushed in his bath, and never expected for his attacker to be the princess of the kingdom he had just conquered.

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More Stories!

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[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag Royalty Au

A few months passed by comfortably and Kagome felt settled into her new role. She felt so much happier than she’d been in a long time, enough to rarely think about what brought her there in first place. Being a Lady in Waiting came with responsibilities, but Rin never felt like work. If anything, Kagome treated her like her own daughter or thought of her as the little sister she never had. Maybe even a bit too comfortable... If she wasn’t with Rin, she was with Inuyasha. They talked a lot and a crush had developed. She could tell he liked her too, but they both knew it wouldn’t work because he believed she was just a servant, and he was already spoken for. So, Kagome did her best to push away those sadder feelings and focus on the positives. She was in a safe environment, happy, and living freer than ever. It wasn’t worth stressing over.

“Where’s Rin?” Inuyasha asked Kagome when he found her sitting in the garden alone at mid-morning.

“Oh, hello Inuyasha.” Kagome looked up from her book. “This morning Rin decided to go with her mother to the neighboring city for shopping. They told me I didn’t need to accompany them, kind of like a mother, daughter fun day, I assume.”

“So that means you’re free right now?”

“I guess you could say that,” she chuckled. “They’ll probably be back around dinner time.”

“In that case, would you like to join me for a horseback ride? You haven’t had a lot of chances to see the surrounding areas, right?”

“No, I haven’t. But I guess Buyo wouldn’t mind getting out of the stable either. He hasn’t been worked much lately since I’d arrived.”

“Then it’s settled.” Inuyasha held out a hand to help her to her feet. “We can grab some lunch from the market before heading out.”

Within the hour, the pair were on horseback trotting along the road that led away from the castle city. There were a few areas close by that Inuyasha thought Kagome would enjoy seeing. For him it was days like this when he could forget that he was a Prince and just enjoy life. The woman had truly brought out a new side of him and it wasn’t going unnoticed, but so far, the palaces gossip mill didn’t dare to make it publicly known. It had steadily grown harder and harder to remember life before Kagome’s arrival and Inuyasha didn’t want to think about the day he’d have to leave her behind for some Princess he didn’t even know. Ugh! Before Kagome, he’d accepted his fate subserviently to his fathers will, but now, the frustration grew like a weed in his heart. He’d rather die alone at home, in the castle with Kagome around then be married in an unfamiliar kingdom on a loveless throne.

“Where’s Miroku?” Kagome asked after some time. “Isn’t he supposed to be with you when you leave the castle?”

“Yeah…” Inuyasha smirked with a glint in his eye. “But I ditched him. He’s probably still looking for me,” he laughed. “Wouldn’t want a third wheel when I’m with you.”

The comment brought a blush to Kagome’s cheeks as the man’s tone hinted more than an innocent rambling. “Oh…” she ducked her head in embarrassment. “It is nicer without anyone else around. So, um, where are we going?”

“There’s a pond,” Inuyasha pointed in a general direction. “It’s not much farther, with a small waterfall where we can relax and eat our lunch.”

“That does sound really nice! I’ve never seen a waterfall before,” she sheepishly admitted.

“Wow… you really haven’t seen much, have you?”

“Let’s just say I was… sheltered for most of my life.”

“Because you’re a girl?”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t let me go anywhere by myself.”

“I see. So, after they passed away you decided to do the opposite?”

“I know it’s odd for a woman to travel alone, but I didn’t have anyone to turn to and I just… needed to get away.”

Inuyasha leaned back a little in his saddle using his legs to steady himself. “I can completely understand that. Everyone wondered why I used to be so irritable before Rin came along. She gave me a reason to stick around, but I really don’t enjoy being a prince.”

“You don’t?” Kagome spoke slowly to hide the tremble in her tone. It was nice to hear someone else unhappy with that kind of life.

He shook his head. “So many rules and traditions to follow. Everyone thinks our life is easy but the pressures… and being told what to do, being watched constantly— I hate it and then the whole arrangement—… never mind.” His ears folded back as he glanced skyward. “What I wouldn’t give to be free from all of it.” He turned to look at her. “Like you— oi, did I say something wrong?” Inuyasha questioned when he saw the moisture filling Kagome eyes.

“No, no,” she shook her head and smiled. “I get it. Freedom to choose how we’ll live our lives is just, such a wonderful thing.”

Ever have a sense of connection while time stood still? Just for moment as the pair trotted side by side, their eyes holding a gaze like the world could fall away at any moment, but it wouldn’t be noticed. Inuyasha didn’t know how, and despite coming from such different worlds this woman… he knew she spoke the truth. She was feeling the same longing emotions as he was, the same which had driven her to leave home. What a strength to possess in standing up to traditions! Inuyasha let out a held breath. Kagome truly was one of those once in a lifetime meeting, he’ll never find again. If only…

Inuyasha snapped out of the daydream when he realized they’d reached their destination. “F-follow me, it’s right through this tree line.”

He led them through a thicket of trees with the sounds of moving water guiding him towards the source. This hidden gem was easy to miss from the road, but it made for a perfect hideaway. Inuyasha would sometimes slip away from the castle and go there whenever he was upset. Not even Miroku knew about it and the prince wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. They tethered the horses near the water on a patch of grass, before finding a flat rock outcropping to sit down. Inuyasha then laid out a blanket he’d brought, and Kagome unpacked a travel basket of food.

“This really is a beautiful place,” Kagome commented. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just glad you like it.”

Kagome stretched out her legs and held herself up with her arms behind her relaxing and listening to the sounds around her. The pond was maybe four or five horse lengths from one side to the other, with a short waterfall that fed the pond, but it had no visible outlet. Perhaps it was connected to an underground stream that came out elsewhere. Not that she cared about such details. What mattered was the serenity of the area, so calming, soothing, the gentle rumbles of the waterfall, the birds in the trees, even the frogs croaking, or water bugs buzzing around in a strangely harmonious cacophony. As they ate their lunch amidst this entertainment, she couldn’t help but think about coming back here again.

“I bet Rin would love this place,” Kagome sighed in contentment.

“She probably would, if I was willing to share it with anyone else.”

She turned her head and was about to respond when she realized what Inuyasha was insinuating. “Oh… so no one else knows about this place?”

Inuyasha shook his head no. “Just me and you. Only special people allowed,” he smiled.

As she adjusted her body to sit up, Kagome’s voice quieted with hopeful undertones. “You think… I’m special?”

“Kagome, look at the effect you’ve had on my entire family. Rin loves you. My parents think you’re great, even Kagura likes you and that says a lot. It’s pretty clear that you’re a very special person.”

“Ah, I see,” Kagome breathed out a sigh mixed with relief as well as disappointment. “Everyone has been very nice to me, and I’m blessed to have been so accepted.”

Inuyasha didn’t respond immediately and when Kagome glanced up to look at him, she noticed he was staring at the water with a serious, almost pained expression. His brows were slightly furrowed, and jaw tightened. Should she say something? Maybe he was thinking and wouldn’t want to be interrupted. Minutes ticked by, but the prince kept his eyes trained on the water. So, Kagome pulled her knees up and rested her arms on them to wait, letting the scenery pull her back into a daydream.

It frustrated Inuyasha that he kept having to reign in his emotions like this. He wanted to just tell her the truth, not cover it up with truthful lies. His family did love her, just not in the way he was beginning to. She was special to him, but it would be wrong to lead her on when there was no hope of developing anything more. He’d do anything to make her happy and feel special every single day for the rest of her life. Finally, after several awkward minutes, he spoke up. “Someone like you deserves the world Kagome, and if I could give it to you, I would.”

The comment made Kagome’s heart melt, for she knew those words were coming from his own. Now she understood the turmoil lying just below the surface but appreciated Inuyasha trying to keep things platonic for both their sakes. She smiled softly as she fidgeted with her fingers. “I know you would, Inuyasha, and I’d do the same for you if I could. These past few months have made me happier than any other time in my life, but even if this is all I get, I’ll still cherish the memories.”

Inuyasha let out a drawn-out exhale, his head hung, and ears drooped. “And I still wish things could be different. Fate sucks sometimes.”

Kagome surprised him by reaching over and placing her hand over his. “Let’s focus on the good stuff while we can.” She genuinely smiled although behind it there was a hint of sadness to it. “At least we got to meet each other, and we get to enjoy moments like this one. That’s something no one can ever take away from us.”

He flipped his hand over and took hold of hers, giving it a small squeeze. “I don’t know how you do it,” Inuyasha chuckled quietly. “But I know you’re right. For you, I’ll hold out hope that things will work out the way they’re supposed to.” And he meant it. Anything to keep a smile on Kagome’s face.

Once Inuyasha noticed the sun had moved halfway towards the horizon, they decided it was time to head back to the palace. The pair trotted out of the tree line but pushed the horses into a light gallop after making it back to the main road. It was fun, albeit disruptive to Kagome’s hair as it came undone and flowed behind her. Inuyasha had to hold back his admiration because she simply looked breathtaking like that. They slowed down as they neared the castle gate and he instantly saw a very annoyed Miroku standing next to his horse waiting for them.

“Where the hell have you been!” Miroku flailed his hands at the prince. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?!”

Refusing to acknowledge the man’s tirade, Inuyasha just rolled his eyes. “What’s the big deal. Did my dad come looking for me or something?”

“No—”

Inuyasha cut him off. “Then where’s the fire? What’s got you so damn riled up?”

“Because it was only a matter of time. And what are you doing with Ms. Tanaka?” Miroku questioned with an accusatory tone.

“Look, she hasn’t seen much more than the castle, so I took her out riding. Nothing wrong with that, so don’t be projecting your sick perverted mind on me,” Inuyasha growled back. “Now are you done grilling me cause we’d like to be on our way.”

“One more thing.” Miroku moved closer so he could keep his voice low. “A visiting King from a small kingdom will be here by dinner time, so your father may call on you to greet the guest.”

“What king?”

“Naraku, from the Komorigumo kingdom.”

“The creepy one?”

“Yeah, that one. He’s supposedly just passing through for the night on his way to the coastal port city and stopped out of respect.”

“I never did trust that guy.”

“Neither does your father, so that’s why he’ll probably ask you to greet him and keep an eye on him.”

“Alright… thanks,” Inuyasha mumbled. “Now if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Miroku then winked at Kagome. “Ma’am.”

“Mr. Hoshii,” she nodded her head.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Inuyasha grumped and drove his horse forward. “We should get inside.”

“Okay,” Kagome responded and followed along.

After putting away their horses, the pair parted ways. Kagome went straight to her room to freshen up before Rin arrived home and Inuyasha went looking for his father. He wanted to find out if there was more to this visit than Miroku had known about, because King Naraku had a sullen and untrustworthy reputation. It was customary for visiting guests to stay in the palace, but Inuyasha wondered if they should increase the guards or put them on alert for mischief. He found the Inutaisho in his war room, but after several questions, Naraku’s visit appeared to be for a benign reason, just like Miroku stated. But he still didn’t trust the man.

“Fine,” Inutaisho acquiesced. “I’m not increasing the guards but have them instructed to watch for anything suspicious or unusual and to notify you immediately if they come across something.”

“Thanks, I’ll make sure it’s done. Oh, will Naraku be at dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure he’s on the opposite side of the table from Ms. Tanaka. Wouldn’t want him making her uncomfortable.”

“Inuyasha, I still think you’re being paranoid.”

“Better paranoid and be wrong, then miss something and bad things happen.”

Inutaisho laughed. “I guess I can’t fault that logic too much. See you at dinner son.”

With Miroku’s help, the palace guards and staff were put on notice under the guise of simply being on the alert with such a high-profile guest at the palace. When King Naraku arrived shortly before dinner, Inuyasha merely watched from the dining room doorway as his father and brother greeted the fellow king. His concern was intercepting Rin and Kagome as they arrived for dinner to make sure they avoided contact.

“Uncle Inu!” Rin bounced up and hugged him.

He picked her up, holding her with one arm. “Did you have fun shopping?”

“Yeah! I got some pretty new dresses!”

“That’s awesome,” Inuyasha smiled. “And good evening Ms. Tanaka.”

“Good evening, your highness.”

“Due to a guest, the normal seating has been slightly rearranged,” he gestured for her to follow him. “I’ll show you both to your seats.”

“That’s kind of you,” Kagome smiled and did as she was told.

As the trio walked through the dining room. Inuyasha kept his side gaze trained on Naraku to see how he would react to an unfamiliar face. The man was already seated next to his father and brother chatting, but clearly aware of their entrance. For just a brief second Inuyasha swore Naraku was staring hard at Kagome but caught himself quickly once he saw Inuyasha looking in his direction and pretended not to notice Kagome at all. ‘Weird,’ Inuyasha thought to himself. With human curiosity it’s normal to react to a new face, but not to ignore, especially a pretty one like Naraku had just done. He knew he couldn’t say anything out loud about it, so he just stayed observant.

The rest of dinner went without incident until the Inutaisho invited Naraku to join he and Sesshomaru in another room for more official business. Inuyasha watched carefully as the three men left the room, but just outside of the door and his hearing, he saw Naraku stop his personal guard and whisper something in the man’s ear. The guard then glanced back at the dining table where the rest of them were still seated, and yet again he could have sworn the men were looking at Kagome!

Inuyasha leaned over and whispered to Kagome. “Once you put Rin to bed, stay in your room and keep the door locked.”

“Is something wrong?” She whispered back. “Is it because of who you and Miroku was talking about earlier?”

“Yeah. I’m probably just being paranoid, but he just gives me really bad vibes.”

“O-Okay. Sure, I’ll just stay in my room reading.”

“Good.”

The following morning, Inuyasha woke up early to watch Naraku and his entourage leave. According to Miroku, no incidents were noticed, so he could breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps he had been a little paranoid… that is until his father mentioned something. Naraku had asked the Inutaisho about Kagome before leaving. Inuyasha’s father assured his son that it was just an innocent question since Rin had a different attendant the last time the foreign king had visited. Innocent or not, why would Naraku care about a servant? Inuyasha chalked it up to the fact Kagome was a beautiful woman, so it must have just gained that kings attention. But since nothing more came from it, he filed it away in the back of his mind for future reference.