#listen....this is v long and i am aware i probably should have put it on ao3

[eddiesdiaz]

body swap au for @stacksonweek day 4: magical mishap (a little bit late as always) // co-written by the beautiful amazing @florenceandthemachine whom i love and adore

“I’m tired, Jackson.”

“Shut up and scrub, Stilinski.”

Stiles might have laughed if he had the energy.

As it was, he did not—he and Jackson were standing waist-deep in a river that cut Beacon Hills Preserve nearly in half, scrubbing blood and rot and…various other things out of their clothes, skin, and (worst of all, in Stiles’ opinion) hair. 

He still wasn’t entirely sure how a golem wound up in Beacon Hills—it was green, and huge, and smelled like a dead thing that had been dragged through a fucking sewer. The green swamp thing (golem, Stiles mentally corrected) wasn’t even their enemy, which made it all the more frustrating—it was targeting a group of witches, a coven that Derek had given permission to travel through Hale territory.

The golem had other ideas, apparently. 

A few dead hikers later and Derek, in his infinite alpha wisdom and self-loathing, had immediately decided that because he let the witches onto Beacon Hills land, they must have been the ones killing people—ignoring everything that Stiles was trying to say, about how the deaths they had come across didn’t make sense, Derek, and there was absolutely zero magical residue at all, Derek, and I swear to god if you slash my tires to keep me from staking out again, Derek...

...And naturally, Derek was wrong, and wasted so much time and energy going after a powerful group of beings that would have been much better served as an ally, not an enemy. So Stiles had worked even harder. He did research, he looked up proof, he found a defense, and after almost three days awake—which, even then, was barely enough time—he had a solution.

A solution that relied a little too heavily on Danny pulling some text messages off of Derek’s phone, sure, but it was a solution nonetheless. He had managed to track down where the pack had split up in their futile (and literal) witch hunt, and with the research he had done, it was easy to know which oath to follow. Stiles only wished that path didn’t wind up with his hand almost elbow deep in the chest of a nasty ass monster made of mud and moss, wrapping his hand around a tiny piece of parchment, and pulling it free with a tug. And then pretending that he wasn’t on the brink of vomiting as the thing blew up, a moment before it was about to crush half of the pack in one of its giant, muddy fists. 

Which led to the here and now, standing in a river, trying not to barf. Great way to spend a Tuesday night. 

“I am tired, Jackson.”

Something in his voice gives Jackson pause, and Stiles can’t even muster up the energy to feel thankful at the lack of snarky report. 

“I haven’t slept in days. Days. Just so I could make sure that I had this information right. I saved several pack members from…injury, at least, if not worse, I fucking stopped Derek from starting something with a coven of witches that he probably wouldn’t have walked way from. I did all of that and I did it alone, and I just...and after that…and then fucking Derek!”

Fucking Derek indeed, because after all that, did Stiles get a thank you? Did he get any appreciation? No. He got Derek yelling in his face about getting in the way, and then a barked order for he and Jackson to scrub up, get home, and stay out of the way. And now they’re standing waist-deep in a river, and Stiles is so furious with the entire situation he doesn’t even think to ogle Jackson like his life depends on it when the former Kanima decides that the best way to wash out his shirt is by stripping it off.

He starts scrubbing at a spot on his shirt with renewed vigor, fuming to himself, only pausing when the splash of Jackson’s steps signal movement behind him.

“Stilinski, I get it, but I think—“

“Ha! You get it? You get nothing, Whittemore.” Stiles snaps, whirling on his heel, almost slipping and falling beneath the water before steadying himself. “You absolutely do not get it. I work so hard to keep everyone safe. I’ve had to do everything, everything on my own, while you… I mean, you wanted the bite, and Derek gave it to you. You wanted Lydia, and you got her. You want a new car, a new lacrosse team, a better wardrobe, you got that too. People just hand these things to you—“ his scrubbing was reaching a furious level now— “and meanwhile, I do everything in my power to keep you and the rest of those fucks safe, and all I get is snapped at, and it’s just—not—fair!”

The fabric beneath his fingers tears suddenly and he just…freezes, staring through the new hole in his shirt with shocked eyes, and blurry vision. Is he crying? Probably, but he’s not sure—it’s a small consolation to know that even if he is, the stench of rot and mud is so thick, Jackson probably can’t smell it on him anyway.

Because more than being tired, Stiles was afraid. Is afraid. Has been and likely always will be afraid. Afraid that no matter what he did, his dad would get hurt, or he would fail, or his friends would still wind up dead—that Jackson would wind up dead, not that he would ever admit to it—and tonight was too close a call. The fight drains out of him as he looks down at his fingers through the hole, shoulders slumping, voice flat as he starts to make his way out of the river. All he wants right now is to go home, hug his dad, and pass out for at least a day.

“I appreciate the empathy or whatever, but you have no idea what it feels like to be in my position, Jackson. Fucking none. So just… take your Porsche back to your mansion, kiss your still living parents, and I’ll see you at school.”

Stiles could almost swear he sees something soft in Jackson’s eyes, something almost resembling sympathy, but he can’t find it in him to investigate further. The exhaustion is pulling at him relentlessly, and for once, he stops fighting it. Pulling into the driveway on full autopilot, he barely manages to throw his wet, smelly clothes off of his body before collapsing into bed, asleep as soon as his head meets the pillow. 

///

As is his usual, he’s slow to rise the next morning, dreading what he’s sure will be a battered and bruised body, but when he grits his teeth and stretches…nothing. There’s no pain, no stiffness, not even a popping joint. His body feels…good. His bed feels good. Has his bed always been so comfortable? He’s reaching for his phone when his arm smacks a wall instead, and that’s the first indication that something is off. 

He’s never been to Jackson’s house, but he knows immediately that’s where he is as soon as he opens his eyes — because no other teenager would have a fucking king size bed with silk sheets, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a walk-in closet the size of Stiles’ entire bedroom. 

His first thought is that he’s remembering last night wrong. That he had actually ended up being too tired to drive, so Jackson brought him here to crash. Which was really cool of him, especially after Stiles unleashed his raging inner monologue on him, and he should definitely apologize for that. 

Once he drags himself out of Jackson’s absurdly comfortable bed, though, and seeks out the nearest mirror to assess whether he looks as bad as he thinks he should feel, he finds Jackson’s face staring back at him. 

It’s probably a testament to their completely fucking ridiculous lives that Stiles doesn’t even flinch. Because after all the shit that’s happened to them, why not this too? In fact, having some sort of Freaky Friday situation with Jackson is pretty damn low on his list of things to be concerned about. Barely even on the radar, really. It’s more of a slight inconvenience than anything. 

Assuming, of course, that they had actually switched places and Stiles’ body wasn’t like…dead in a ditch somewhere. That would be a huge bummer for everyone involved.

To be honest, all Stiles wants to do is lock himself up in this absolute paradise of a bedroom and catch up on his sleep. He feels more well-rested than he has in weeks after a night in Jackson’s bed (or is it because he’s in Jackson’s body, who probably sleeps this well every night [or, because supernatural healing and rejuvenation capabilities]?), but he could still use another solid day of rest and relaxation. 

As it is, though, he checks Jackson’s phone and sees that he’s late for school. Stiles would ditch in a heartbeat if he was himself, but golden boy Jackson Whittemore has had perfect attendance since kindergarten. So he throws on some clothes and hauls ass out the door, all the while wondering why he knows that, and more importantly, why he cares. 

///

Despite his best efforts (speeding like a mad man in the Porsche, for fun just as much as necessity), he’s too late to catch Jackson before class. He spends the entirety of the morning trying to get used to the fact that he can hear everyone’s heartbeats and smell the way they’re feeling. Stiles knows damn near everything there is to know about being a werewolf, but actually being one is different. It’s sensory overload, and it’s overwhelming as hell. 

He holds it together well enough, though, because this isn’t his first rodeo. He’s been through this enough times to know how to control it. So he does, and he makes it to lunch without wolfing out, which he’s pretty proud of. Being a werewolf isn’t something Stiles has ever wanted, but he has to say, he’s kind of crushing it. 

As soon as he sees Jackson (himself?) in the cafeteria, he rushes to Stiles and pulls him into the hallway so they can talk alone. 

“What the fuck, Stilinski?”

Stiles has to laugh. 

“I have no idea, dude,” he answers with a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“You look like shit,” Jackson observes, smirking in a way that usually makes Stiles want to punch him when he’s not looking at himself. “That’s not easy to do with my face.”

Stiles, for his part, just rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Have you told anyone what happened yet?” 

“Yeah, I told McCall, and he told Derek. We’re all meeting at the loft after school to figure out what’s going on.”

“Great,” Stiles deadpans, barely holding back a dramatic sigh. Just thinking about dealing with the pack right now is exhausting, but as much as he would have loved to entertain the idea of fooling all of their friends, it was probably for the best to keep them in the loop. 

Jackson laughs and makes a noise of agreement. “Hey, you’re good, right? You have the wolf under control?” 

Stiles nods. “I think so, yeah. So far, so good.”

“Yeah, I figured you would, but I had to check.”

Jackson says it as easy as anything, like it’s no big deal, but Stiles is taken aback by it. Because while he has to fight everyone else tooth and nail just to prove his worth, here Jackson is trusting Stiles to handle himself, simple as that. Stiles is grateful that, for once, Jackson can’t hear his heart stutter in his chest.

“So I’ll see you after school?” Jackson asks, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah, see you then,” he agrees. 

///

The pack meeting turns out to be an hour-long session of bashing Stiles, treating him like a child and insisting they all take turns “looking after him” in case he fucks something up and they have to step in and fix it. 

None of that surprises Stiles, if he’s being honest. What does surprise him, however, is the way Jackson stands up for him. 

“For God’s sake, he doesn’t need a fucking babysitter,” he scoffs, looking pointedly at Derek. “He single-handedly raised Scott’s wolf when his alpha was nowhere to be found, and he helped every single one of us with our control when you couldn’t be bothered. If you think he can’t handle this on his own, you’re full of shit.”

That earns a stunned silence from everyone in the room, and Stiles chooses to ignore the flush high on his cheeks. Jackson typically wasn’t big on talking during these meetings—in fact, it was pretty likely that was the most he had ever said in a pack meeting, and all those words were just to defend Stiles? 

That’s weirder than the body swap.

“Hey, uh, thanks for that,” Stiles tells him once the meeting is adjourned and they’re headed back out to their cars. 

“It was true,” Jackson says with a shrug. “So are you gonna tell your dad about all of this?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t wanna worry him for nothing. Just don’t let him eat garbage and be sarcastic, but not mean, and he’ll believe you’re me.”

“Got it.”

“What about me? You have any tips for your parents?” Stiles prompts. 

Jackson laughs at that, though Stiles isn’t really sure why. “Trust me, you don’t need any tips,” he says. 

Stiles can’t help but be a little annoyed at the cryptic advice, because what the hell is that supposed to mean?

He’s chewing the thought over as he pushes the button on the visor of Jackson’s Porsche (which he has named Persephone), and his brow furrows when he looks into an empty garage. He thought that maybe Jackson’s parents had been up and out before his school day started, but they weren’t home now, either? 

A business trip, maybe? Jackson hadn’t seemed worried about it, so he probably didn’t have a reason to be either…but he had to admit, he isn’t sure how to feel about being alone from the moment he unlocked the front door to the moment he woke up—to a very amusing set of text messages, he might add.

11:37 PM: dude how do you get your human brain to shut off

11:44 PM: seriously what the fuck i am tired why cant i go to sleep?

12:17 AM: fuck it im going to count your moles to bore myself into a coma

12:43 AM: didnt work. you have fourteen beauty marks on your left ass cheek. just fyi

Stiles did not want to know that; in fact, any schadenfreude he may have been feeling at apparently ditching his overworked human brain was immediately muted by the thought that Jackson had technically (apparently) looked at his naked ass.

...Which leads to Stiles realizing as he shampoos his hair that technically, he’s seen all of Jackson naked too. Technically, hell, he’s currently feeling Jackson up as he scrubs. It’s a lot of technicalities that Stiles absolutely does not want to face. 

He rinses quicker than he washed and almost jumps into some clothes, weirdly nervous about the potential to see something that he feels he really shouldn’t spend too much time getting up close and personal with—even if Jackson was apparently using a hand mirror to count beauty marks on his temporary ass cheek.

///

He opens the garage door and starts Persephone up, but before he can fully back out of the driveway, a sleek sports car is pulling in the drive beside him, and sure enough, Derek in all his brooding glory is soon rapping on the passenger side window. 

“Open up. I’m going to make sure you get to school.”

Stiles sighs to himself before unlocking the door. He should have figured that Derek would take part in his “keep stupid Stiles from causing trouble” campaign, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy having Derek anywhere near him—or the feelings that came with it.

Because the truth is, feeling Derek this close to him makes him fucking uncomfortable. He isn’t sure if it’s a wolf thing, or a Derek thing, but every breath he takes while they’re in the enclosed vehicle makes him more and more nervous. If he were in his own body, he’d be fidgeting like crazy—but now, he can just feel his brain going into overdrive, trying to access that little part of Jackson’s hindbrain that feels his instincts going crazy.

Everything gets catalogued as he drives—while he had always thought Derek would give off commanding, calming vibes, it’s more of the opposite. He can actually smell Derek’s annoyance (which is not surprising) but there’s something else there, something that’s bitter, acidic, deep rooted and laced in everything Derek does or says. 

He’s halfway out of the car, engine off, keys in hand, when it clicks in his head. Derek is talking to him, low and monotone, and if you weren’t listening with supersonic hearing, you might have assumed he was bored. He’s in the middle of explaining something that sounds suspiciously like a curfew (just because Stiles can hear does not mean he was listening) when Stiles interrupts. 

“Jesus, Derek. I hope you hid your emotions better around Jackson before we went all Freaky Friday. I can’t tell which you hate more right now, this body in general or the fact that I’m in it.”

Admittedly, Stiles isn’t sure what he’s hoping for after he speaks—an argument, maybe, or a denial, but when Derek just stares at him, eyes wide in surprise even as his brow furrows, it tells him all that he needs to know, and he can feel his heart sink. Being annoyed with the situation is one thing, and it would have been stupid to assume Derek was thrilled about the situation when he and Jackson were still sorting it out, but damn. It was a punch in the gut to know that Derek really did hate him.

Or maybe he hates Jackson—which, when that thought crosses his mind, makes Stiles heart fucking break. Because sure, Stiles was annoying on the best of days, but Jackson? He was a genuinely good person. A genuine asshole, sure, but a good person underneath it all. And with all the research he had done on pack bonds and family units, he couldn’t imagine how it would feel for Jackson, Derek’s first beta, to feel that loathing all the time.

Derek still wasn’t denying anything, and Stiles feels a burn at the back of his tongue, building up just to tear into Derek at a moment’s notice.

He’s about to open his mouth again when a familiar roar catches his ears—and in the three seconds it took for him to turn and identify where Jackson was piloting his much-missed blue behemoth of a car into the lot, Derek was gone. 

Good, Stiles thought. Hateful fucker.

Stiles and Jackson may have still been shaky on the “friends” area, but a furious Stiles isn’t the most rational Stiles, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with an inexplicable urge to protect Jackson. To shield him from everyone and everything trying to hurt him, because apparently that list includes his own alpha. 

It’s illogical. The rational part of his brain realizes this, and yet the feeling is so primal and all-encompassing that he can’t resist it. He can feel himself popping fangs (which is a weird fucking sensation that he will have to address later) as Jackson walks up to him and Stiles immediately wraps him up in a hug. He holds him tight, buries his face in the crook of Jackson’s neck and just breathes. 

Jackson seems surprised, but he doesn’t say anything. He hugs Stiles back with no complaints or snarky comments, apparently content to stand there with Stiles for as long as he needs. If Stiles had to guess, he’d say Jackson’s probably familiar with the feeling of needing to be close, which breaks his heart a little bit, considering he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Jackson seek out comfort from any of the pack. 

Well, fuck that. That ends now, as far as he’s concerned.

“You good?” Jackson asks when Stiles finally lets go of him, an embarrassing amount of time later. 

“Yeah,” he says, and it’s actually not a lie. He feels much more grounded and at ease, though Jackson is giving him a strange look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, your eyes are just...they’re not blue.”

It takes Stiles a minute to figure out what Jackson’s talking about. Once he does, though, he recognizes the bitterness of guilt and sadness that’s seeped into Jackson’s scent. That breaks his heart even more. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and blinks a few times, willing his eyes to go back to normal. He has no idea what to say to that, if he’s being honest. 

“Come on, walk me to class,” he decides on, because anything else would be way too heavy for the school parking lot at 8:00 AM.

“So I’m gonna do some research tonight, since the rest of the pack isn’t doing shit to help us,” he continues. He lets his shoulder brush against Jackson’s as they walk. “Don’t worry, I got ahead on your homework last night. I’m keeping your perfect GPA intact.”

“Thanks,” Jackson says, chuckling. “I can help, if you want. Or keep you company, at least, since I know you’re a control freak and you like to do everything yourself.”

“Takes one to know one,” Stiles retorts, biting back a smile. “Yeah. Uh, I’ll call you?”

“Cool,” Jackson agrees, and that’s that. 

///

He spends almost three hours on the phone with Jackson that night. True to his word, he lets Stiles do his thing, but he talks to him, and he listens while Stiles reads from the pages he finds online. It’s not that different from his usual research routine, but it’s a hell of a lot less lonely to have someone by his side, supporting him. 

As far as Stiles can figure, what happened to them was brought on by a witch’s spell, which he can’t say is surprising, considering how royally Derek had pissed them off. The only way to undo it is to let it play out, until they reach whatever outcome the spell intended in order to switch them back. It’s not the best news, considering neither he nor Jackson have any idea what that outcome is. 

He still hasn’t seen even a glimpse of Jackson’s parents, after almost three days of being here. He’d briefly considered texting, but when he opened Jackson’s message threads with them, he saw that he hadn’t texted either one of them in over six months. Stiles wants to ask Jackson about it, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know the answer. 

“This is so weird,” he says instead, because they really haven’t given the appropriate amount of acknowledgement to that fact. 

“What is? Being rich and popular and perfect?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes so hard he’s sure Jackson can feel it through the phone. “Among other things. Namely the fact that you’re technically the first person I’ve ever seen naked.”

It comes out of his mouth before he realizes what he’s saying, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him right about now. Jackson doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, though. 

“Have you jerked off yet?” he asks, sounding more curious than anything. At Stiles’ spluttering silence, he adds, “What? I have.”

Stiles lets out a scandalized gasp and then proceeds to choke on air, much to Jackson’s amusement. He’s definitely laughing at Stiles, the bastard. 

“I mean, I didn’t really have much of a choice,” Jackson continues easily. “You were wound up so tight I thought you were going to explode. I had to take the edge off.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles mutters, flushing bright red. He doesn’t know how Jackson’s being so nonchalant about this, but his virgin ass is mortified. 

“I’m just saying, it might make you feel better.”

“I’m not...I...don’t you think it’s, like, beyond weird?” Stiles manages to ask, though it takes a lot of effort to string together a full sentence. 

“Kind of, but when have our lives ever not been weird?” Jackson asks, and Stiles has to admit, he has a point. “I’m hot, you’re hot, so what’s the difference, really?”

Jackson keeps talking, Stiles is pretty sure, but he doesn’t hear anything after you’re hot. His brain short-circuits. 

“I’m hanging up now,” Stiles chokes out, because he can’t handle this conversation anymore. 

“If it helps, I give you my blessing to feel me up to your heart’s content,” Jackson offers. 

“Goodnight, Jackson.”

Jackson laughs, sounding almost fond. “Night, Stilinski.”

Stiles tosses the phone at the table, ignoring how his face was bright red, and his eyes were probably bright again, and his fangs weren’t the only thing that had… popped in that last ten minutes. 

More than anything, though, he was acutely aware of the warmth in his chest. 

Jackson thinks he’s hot.

10:51 PM: found another one. fifteen beauty marks.

10:52 PM: JACKSON I SWEAR TO GOD

He is so, so fucked.

///

11:29 AM: i want some shrimp scampi tonight.

11:31 AM: ehh, it’s healthy enough i guess, dad will like it. everything you need should be in the pantry.

11:32 AM: … stilinski are you fucking serious right now? i didn’t say your dad wanted shrimp scampi, i said i wanted shrimp scampi

Stiles almost snorts in the middle of his History class—which was better than falling asleep, but only barely—and can’t help but feel the smug sense of pride that bloomed in his chest.

11:35 AM: why jackson, are you asking me to dinner?

11:40 AM: no, dumbass, i’m telling you that i’m coming over to my own house and you’re making me shrimp scampi.

Stiles rolls his eyes and sends an affirmative-looking emoji, a smile on his face as the bell rings and he shoves everything into his bag. He taps at his phone as it buzzes again in his hand.

11:45 AM: trust me, when i ask you to dinner you’ll realize it.

Stiles hates his life a little bit. 

But only a little bit.

///

“Come on, Jackson. I didn’t even make the pasta myself, it is not that hard to boil some water.”

“The fuck do you mean, you didn’t make the pasta this time? How the fuck do you know how to make pasta?!”

Stiles laughs as he pushes some shrimp around in a pan, watching as Jackson goes to sit on the counter. The kitchen is huge — probably bigger than Stiles’ own house — but he definitely isn’t going to complain about Jackson’s general proximity. “What did you tell my dad, anyway? I can’t imagine he was so keen to have you spend some time over here after you tried to sue us,” he says, draining the pasta, looking up after Jackson’s silence carries on a little too long.

Jackson is personifying the deer in the headlights look, a piece of dried pasta broken off in his mouth. 

“Is…is he going to care if I’m not home?” Jackson asks, his voice shockingly small, and Stiles can literally smell the panic rising in Jackson’s voice, which he only needs one whiff of to determine he never wants to smell it on Jackson again. 

Stiles can hear Jackson’s heart start to race, and he doesn’t even think before he goes into full damage control mode. He immediately starts talking (a distraction) and grabs his own cell phone from the table (taking the attention off of Jackson), narrating what he was texting to his dad (letting Jackson know what the right thing to do was, without bringing up what he had done wrong). 

He leans up against the counter as he speaks, his shoulder pressed firmly along Jackson’s, giving him a point of contact to focus on. It was almost “panic attack 101” at this point — Scott had done the same thing to give him some time to calm down when he had an attack in public, back when Scott wasn’t a fuckhead, and even though they were alone in Jackson’s giant-ass house, he figures it would be a better way to help Jackson down than confronting him head on. 

Do werewolves get panic attacks? Stiles really doesn’t want the answer to that question. 

A small scoff from Jackson is the only cue Stiles needs to stop his regular rambling, and he’s momentarily thankful for the grumpy look on Jackson’s face as he chews his dry pasta. It’s the same look that he got whenever Scott suggested a better lacrosse play—the “okay you’re right, shut up about it”, but Stiles takes it as the signal that it is, that Jackson’s okay.

Which is great, because no sooner than that crisis is averted does the next one come up. What started with the slam of a car door outside (down the street or down the block, Stiles still wasn’t sure how to gauge distance by sound yet) turns into muffled voices, talks of luggage and “the car blocking the drive.”

He has no doubt that his expression is probably hilarious when he turns to Jackson, but he’s on the brink of panic himself as a key turns in the lock — because dealing with the pack was one thing, but lying to “his parents” in an attempt to pass off as “their child”? 

Jackson had a near panic attack just thinking about Stiles’ dad, and now here he was about to come face(s) to face(s) with his own parents, and Stiles… is officially out of ideas. Or creative lies. Both wells have about run dry.

Stiles freezes on sight when Jackson’s parents walk into the kitchen. He can’t help it — they’re intimidating as shit, okay? For one horrible, painfully awkward moment, they all just stare at each other in silence. 

“Uh—”

“Jackson,” his mom finally greets him, and although she’s smiling, her tone sounds like she’s addressing a business partner instead of her son. “You’re here. With company. Making a mess of the kitchen.”

She says it with an astonishing amount of contempt, acting way more appalled than the situation calls for — like they’re doing lines of coke off her kitchen counter, not just making dinner — and Stiles is fucking thrown. 

“Yeah, uh, sorry, I—” he tries, but it dies in his throat. He couldn’t finish the sentence if his life depended on it. 

“I didn’t think you knew how to work the stove,” his dad chimes in, with that same “there is company here” type of smile on his face, so fucking condescending it makes Stiles’ skin crawl. 

He can smell their disdain, can feel the irritation radiating off of them in waves — like this entire conversation is nothing but an inconvenience. It’s the first time they’ve seen Jackson in three days (that Stiles is aware of, but he’d guess it’s probably been longer) and yet it’s blatantly apparent they’d rather be anywhere else. 

Stiles is nauseous. He has that feeling again, the same fierce protectiveness of Jackson he’d been hit with after he talked to Derek. He wants to yell, to unleash absolute hell on them for being such unbelievable fuckwads to their only goddamn son, but he doesn’t know enough about this fucked up relationship dynamic to feel comfortable doing it. The last thing he wants is to make things harder for Jackson, and he’s pretty sure telling them off would definitely push things into the territory of worse. 

The problem is, though, Stiles is having trouble mustering up any other, less dangerous reaction. Because as far as he’s concerned, the only appropriate response here is pure, unbridled rage. He takes a deep breath, then another, trying to buy some time, and then Jackson comes in with the save. 

“Actually, I just came to pick Jackson up. We have a project we’re working on for school, so he’s gonna stay at my house for the night.”

His parents just shrug like they literally couldn’t care less and walk away without another word. 

Jackson’s silent as they wash the dishes, and for the entire car ride. Stiles can feel his eyes glowing gold again, but thankfully that’s the only external sign of his anger, so he doesn’t bring it up — he doesn’t know how to. In fact, neither of them speak again until they’re laying side by side in Stiles’ bed, staring up at the ceiling in unison. 

“Jackson,” Stiles breathes, afraid he’ll scare him off if he speaks too loud or makes any sudden movements. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson answers, sounding resigned. “I should have warned you. I just...I’ve never told anyone.”

“Explain it to me,” Stiles says softly. 

He feels Jackson shrug next to him. “We’re more like roommates than anything. I stay out of their way, and they stay out of mine. They drag me to work events sometimes to make themselves look good, but other than that, they’re happiest when I’m not around.” 

Suddenly, so many things he knows about Jackson make more sense. His compulsive need to be the best at everything, his arrogance and his superiority complex — he doesn’t believe any of it. He’s just trying to protect himself. 

“It’s more than that, though. Roommates are nice enough. They were cruel, Jackson. And with your senses…” Stiles trails off, because he can’t bear to say it out loud. No kid should have to literally physically feel their parents’ resentment. 

“I don’t know,” Jackson says, sighing. His heartbeat stays steady, so it’s not a lie; he genuinely doesn’t understand why. “They don’t hit me or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. They just...don’t like me.”

Stiles is relieved at that, but only marginally. 

“You know that doesn’t mean they’re not abusive, right?” he asks, because he needs Jackson to know that. “They don’t get a pass just because they don’t put their hands on you. The way they treat you is bullshit, Jacks.”

He glances over at Jackson out of the corner of his eye, and he has his eyes squeezed shut, like he’s trying not to cry. He smells relieved, though, at the validation. Stiles reaches for his hand and firmly laces their fingers together. 

“Why haven’t you come to the pack with this?” Stiles asks, stroking Jackson’s fingers gently with his thumb. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our pack kind of sucks.”

Stiles can’t help but snort at that. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that. There’s always me, though.”

Jackson lets out a short bark of a laugh, his face tight with some unreadable emotion as he finally looks over at Stiles. “Don’t say things like that, Stilinski. We can’t afford to make any promises right now. What if we never switch back? What if we can’t? What if that witch had decided to blast one of us into another dimension, instead of just this?”

“Jackson—”

“We could all wind up dead tomorrow with some new terrible monster because that’s apparently our lives now, so you can’t just…say things like that so fucking easily.”

His voice is getting more and more heated, but their hands are still linked together, and that’s all the confirmation Stiles needs. He pulls with a tug and ignores the gasp of surprise as he wraps his arms around Jackson like a squid, his voice heavy and slightly lisped through fangs when he speaks again.

“Jackson, I will always have your back. No questions. No negotiations. Fucking always. Understand?”

Jackson doesn’t respond beyond a small nod of his head. Stiles doesn’t push the issue, no matter how badly he wants to, so he lets it go for the time being.

He half expects Jackson to pull away. He doesn’t. 

///

Stiles wakes up as the sun rises, feeling Jackson’s nose against his neck. He’s splayed out over Stiles in a way that makes him fucking preen, even as his heart races a mile a minute, but not before pulling Jackson a little closer, going back to sleep.

///

“You know, as much as it pains you all to admit it, I know that you know I’m right.”

“Stiles, enough.”

Stiles had tossed himself onto a couch once he and Jackson had made their way to Derek’s loft, only lifting his feet for a half second so Jackson could sit, firmly planting them in Jackson’s lap a moment after. The only person who even spared them a glance was Lydia, and even then, it was just the quirk of a perfect brow and what might have been the ghost of a smile if you squinted.

“Derek, we should just ask the witches. Apologize for mistaking them for the bad guys, ask if there was any latent magic hanging around, yadda yadda. They’re still on Pack land, right?”

“Stiles, I said enough.”

Stiles is not above using cliches when they’re warranted, which is good, because up until that moment he had literally been having the perfect day. He woke up with Jackson in his arms, he got to see his dad for breakfast (who, thankfully, didn’t comment on their likely sleeping arrangements). His dad went to work, they watched movies, they ate shitty food, they played video games, and Stiles only broke one controller in a fit of Halo induced rage.

“They’re still on Pack land, right? Who knows for how long. If we have a window of opportunity, it is closing fast.”

“I fucking swear, one more word—“ 

As much as he hates to admit it, it was like his best bud time with Scott, but on a whole new level — because while Scott was ditching him for whatever the cute girl of the day was (which, actually, was Isaac, he was pretty sure), Jackson was attentive, and funny, and laughed at Stiles’ dark jokes...and they hadn’t gone more than ten minutes without some form of physical contact.

But now here they are in Derek’s shitty, depressing loft, and...well, all good things have to come to an end. 

“I’m just saying—”

“Stilinski. If you don’t shut up about all this, I’m going to rip your throat out with my teeth. The only reason you’re involved in all of this is because of the body you’re in right now, but just because you’re a wolf does not mean you understand what it is to be pack.”

The last few words are low, almost growled out, laced with that familiar Alpha tone that Derek loves to use to get the little underlings to train harder, or move faster, or whatever he thought the benefit of the moment was. His eyes are burning red where they stare into Stiles’, and when Stiles turns his head, he can see Erica and Boyd shrinking in on themselves, heads down and eyes lowered. Even Scott has his mouth clamped shut. 

Which…huh. The display was interesting and all, but was that really all it took? A growled order to shut the fuck up?

“No.”

His mind is running a mile a minute, thinking ahead of himself, even as Derek’s expression crosses into a downright murderous category. 

“What?!”

“No, I mean—well, I mean no. Because you’re right, I’m not part of the pack. You’ve made that very fucking clear that no matter how much I try to do, I’m not part of it. But if I’m not part of the pack, that means that you are not my fucking Alpha. Which means… I am so fucking out of here.”

He stands, slowly, as though wanting to be sure he can prove it to himself that Derek’s influence means nothing to him. He can practically feel the wolf radiating with excitement as he does, which is all the confirmation he needs. 

Huh. Instincts. Weird. 

He has to put a damper on his excitement when he turns away from Derek (who is beginning to switch from rage to hurt and confusion and honestly Stiles does not have the time right now) and faces Jackson instead. While he’s finally — finally — to blow this joint, he knows it’s probably going to be a little more difficult for Jackson to just up and leave a group that he had been craving approval from for so long. And if Jackson wants to stay, Stiles will too, in a heartbeat — but he owes it to himself to at least try. 

“Jackson, I’m tired of bullshitting around. I’m going to go get some answers.”

He puts out his hand, a smile on his face, even as he feels confusion bounce around the room, like they had only just noticed that Jackson and Stiles were basically sharing a love seat before Derek tried to bite his head off. 

Poor Scott even smells a little hurt. Stiles will try to make it up to him and explain, maybe, possibly, but it will be much later. Right now, he has one priority and one priority only, and it’s staring at him, wearing a shocked expression he’s seen in the mirror all too often.

“Come with me?”

He’s expecting Jackson to hesitate for at least a moment or two, but as soon as the words leave Stiles’ mouth, he’s taking his hand and following him out of the loft. He only pauses to flip Derek off with his free hand, leaning into Stiles’ side as they laugh together. 

///

“You’re kind of a badass, you know that?”

They’re back at Stiles’ house (Jackson had asked him, open and vulnerable, to “please, just stay here with me, Stilinski, my parents won’t give a shit,” and Stiles was powerless to deny him) after agreeing to go find the witches first thing in the morning, since it was a little too late to go bothering them tonight. They’re on the couch, sitting so close together Jackson’s practically in his lap, as they watch reruns of Brooklyn 99. 

In response to Jackson’s question, Stiles scoffs. “Me? How?”

“I’ve been wanting to say shit like that to Derek for months,” Jackson admits, nudging Stiles with his elbow. “You’ve been in my body for less than a week and you’re already more ballsy than I’ve ever been.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t just talking out of my ass. He’s not my alpha. He literally has no sway over me.” Stiles wants to ask him about this thing between him and Derek, exactly how long yet another of Jackson’s parental figures has been treating him like shit, but things are good right now. They’re bonding, and for once, Jackson’s scent is emanating nothing but complete contentment, so Stiles keeps his mouth shut and rolls his eyes instead. 

“I’m serious,” Jackson continues easily. “Is it weird that I’m super attracted to you right now?” 

Stiles’ entire line of thought comes crashing to a halt and his mouth goes dry. 

“Probably,” he answers weakly, trying to will his heart to stop hammering in his chest. “But you’re also super full of yourself, so I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Jackson chuckles at that, eyes bright. “Come on, you’ve never thought about what it’d be like to kiss yourself?” 

Stiles is suddenly hyper aware of everywhere they’re touching, his skin warming under Jackson’s touch. 

“I can honestly say that I haven’t, no. But then again, you wouldn’t either if you looked like I did all the time,” he answers. He pauses for a beat, then adds, “I have thought about what it’d be like to kiss you, though.”

He’s impressed with himself for having the guts to say it so easily. Don’t get him wrong — Stiles is fucking terrified — but he’s also comfortable here with Jackson. He feels safer than he has...probably since the whole werewolf hellscape started. So he figures he owes it to both of them to be genuine. 

Jackson’s answering grin is blinding, even if he cuffs Stiles in the side of the head first. “First of all, shut the fuck up. I’ve been in your body for a week and trust me, I am now intimately familiar with how hot it is. Second of all…you’ve thought about kissing me, huh? Since when?” he asks. 

Stiles knows what kind of answer Jackson’s expecting. Stories about how hot he is, about the dirty fantasies he’s had about him. And Stiles has plenty of those, but the thing is...he’s been hit on by a lot of strangers in the past few days, and honestly? It’s not at all as amazing as Stiles always imagined it would be. 

It turns out, a lot of aspects of Jackson’s life that Stiles always thought would be amazing are actually anything but.

It’s more annoying than anything, people acting like they have the right to objectify and touch Jackson just because he’s pretty — and he’s had to sprint away from more than one hushed conversation about what someone would do to him, or even worse, what someone already thought he did (for a grade, for a spot on a team, for whatever). It’s gross in ways that Stiles doesn’t even want to identify. And Stiles needs Jackson to know that this isn’t that. 

So instead, he does the complete opposite. 

“Last year, when Isaac was afraid to go to therapy after his dad died, so you went with him and refused to leave his side,” Stiles says, his voice slow and easy as he feels Jackson’s heart skip around in his chest, the confusion playing on his face.

“A few months ago, when you rented out an entire restaurant for a night so Allison and Lydia could have the perfect anniversary dinner.” Jackson is bright red now, ducking his head away — Stiles isn’t having any of that, though, and he gently redirects Jackson’s gaze to him, hand slipping from chin to cheek far too easily.

“Earlier this week, when I realized that you believe in me, even when the rest of the pack doesn’t. Last night, when you were honest with me even though I know you didn’t want to be. And every single time you smile at me, for real, not that annoying fucking smirk you love to throw around.”

Jackson isn’t even smiling any more. His face is just raw, open, eyes wide and so, so on the brink of disaster, like Stiles is the only thing holding him together, and Stiles feels a thrill at the power — real power — more than any wolf trick he’d experienced so far. “You are so good, Jackson.”

He tilts Jackson’s chin up and tilts his own head, making his intent obvious, but he stops before moving any closer, making it very clear that Jackson has the power here, in whatever they do or don’t do. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Jackson can’t speak, he can only nod his head, but it’s enough for Stiles to close the distance between them.

Their first kiss is…a kiss. It’s not a clash of teeth and tongue, it’s slower, softer, it’s sipping champagne instead of tossing back a shot. There’s no fireworks in the background — at least, not in Stiles’ head — but instead a cool, low thrum that lights up every nerve from his scalp to his toes. It would be too easy, he thinks, to slip into something filthy — but that isn’t what Jackson needs right now, isn’t what he needs right now either, so he allows himself exactly three seconds to drag his tongue along Jackson’s lip (and god, it was really, really weird to think that he was technically tasting himself), before pulling back from the kiss.

Jackson’s pupils are blown wide, and Stiles knows his are glowing bright gold. He lets a low noise pull through his throat (the kind of cross between a growl and a purr that he would absolutely make fun of Jackson for making if the tables were turned) as he pulls Jackson closer, nose buried in the crook of his neck. 

Jackson finally finds his voice around the same time he buries his fingers in Stiles’ hair, kissing his temple as Stiles takes in deep breaths of his scent. “Let’s go to bed, okay? Just to bed,” he clarifies, when Stiles stiffens in shock, another growl leaving his lips when Jackson starts to laugh at him. “Just to bed, you moron. We have a long day ahead of us, but I’m definitely ready to get my own body back so I can kiss you properly.”

Desperate to save face (even as his own face heated up), Stiles immediately stands up, hooking his hands under Jackson’s knees and effortlessly carrying him up the stairs as Jackson clings to his neck. He’s laughing, though — they both are — and by the time they make it upstairs, they’re both out of breath, looking pleased as punch, even as Stiles playfully chucks the shirt he was wearing at Jackson’s head.

Any awkwardness they may have felt had disappeared, and it’s amazing what one kiss can do, even as they both strip down to their boxers (“I will say, I am going to miss your fancy, rich boy, silk briefs.” “Stilinski, if you don’t shut up and cuddle me right the fuck now—”). They slot together easily, comfortably, and it’s almost impossible for Stiles to even think about a time when they weren’t like this with one another. 

The emotional toll of the day is catching up with Stiles quickly, but he’s more than content to nuzzle into Jackson’s hair, taking in deep breaths of his scent as things start to settle between them.

He still can’t believe he gets to see Jackson like this. Jackson, who always has his walls up, who hides behind a carefully crafted “cool and confident” version of himself. He’s been mistreated for way too long, by way too many people who are supposed to love and support him, and he still came out of it sweet and caring and considerate despite having no good example set for him. He’s been surrounded by people and still felt lonely, because the attention he gets is hollow and meaningless and none of them actually care. 

And he’s done all of this while everyone around him makes idiotic assumptions that his life is perfect and he couldn’t possibly have any real problems. Including Stiles. 

Fuck, he really needs to apologize for that. 

“I can feel you thinking too hard,” Jackson mumbles, pulling himself out of a half sleep. He turns his head just enough to press a kiss to the base of Stiles’ neck, and Stiles melts at how unbelievably soft it all is. 

“I’m sorry for what I said that night at the river,” Stiles blurts, because he can’t go another second without saying it. 

Jackson blinks a few times and then pulls back enough so he can look Stiles in the eye. He keeps his arm firmly wrapped around Stiles’ waist, though.  

“You don’t have to apologize, Stilinski. We’ve both said a lot worse to each other.”

“I know, but just...shut up and let me say this, okay?” he asks, waiting for Jackson’s nod before he continues. “I acted like a dick because I assumed you couldn’t understand what I was going through, and that wasn’t fair. You probably understand better than anyone, and I’m sorry I didn’t see that.”

Jackson’s quiet for a moment, but then he smiles and leans in to give Stiles a gentle peck on the lips. 

“You didn’t see it because I didn’t want you to see it. I didn’t want anyone to see it,” Jackson says, reaching up to run his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “And I was okay with nobody seeing it, because you’re right. Poor little rich boy, you know? No one got it, so it was easier to pretend, but…I don’t want to pretend anymore. Not with you.”

Stiles grins so hard it hurts and bumps their noses together, smile growing impossibly wider when he hears Jackson’s heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says. 

Jackson resumes his semi-sentient-ragdoll pose on top of Stiles and lets out what can only be called an “affectionate grumble,” doing whatever it is he has to do to make Stiles a more comfortable living pillow. Not that Stiles is going to complain or suggest otherwise. He just waits it out, kissing the top of Jackson’s head when the other male is finally resettled. 

“Night, Stiles.”

“Night, Jacks.” “I still hate that nickname.” “No you don’t. Not when it comes from me.”

“...fuck.”

///

Stiles blinks awake entirely too early in the morning, when the sun has barely started to rise, and reaches blindly to pull the blinds over his window, groaning in disappointment when he fails to do so. He hasn’t felt this groggy in ages, but for the moment, he’s content to blame any sleepy haze on the warmth spread around him; not even a full night's sleep could make him forget — even for a moment — where he is and who’s here with him. 

He sighs and lets his head flop down against Jackson’s chest as his eyes start to blearily open, his hand resting in front of his face, thumb rubbing a smooth circle across Jackson’s chest. He gets a low hum in return — of course Jackson’s already waking up, the idiot is infuriatingly perfect in every way and apparently his internal clock is no exception, even on the weekend.

He takes the opportunity to smile and look up, sleepily taking in Jackson’s form — his strong jaw and smooth skin, and he takes a moment to raise his hand from Jackson’s chest to cup his face. Jackson, eyes still closed, preens at the attention, and turns to kiss Stiles’ wrist. It’s a mental picture he wants to save forever — Jackson’s breath steady against his pulse point, his tanned lips pressed against Stiles’ pale skin —

His skin is pale. 

His skin is pale again. 

Stiles bolts upright, his legs straddling Jackson (who makes his feelings about the sudden movement known with a very loud groan). He has both hands cupping Jackson’s face as Jackson opens his eyes, looking cross in a way that used to convey anger and even fear — now it just looks like a child pouting. It’s adorable.

“Jackson, wake the fuck up.”

To his credit, Jackson is much quicker on the uptake than Stiles was. 

“Oh, thank god,” Jackson says, reaching to stroke Stiles’ cheek fondly. “I was really starting to miss this pretty face.”

Stiles blushes from his cheeks all the way down his chest, and it only intensifies when he realizes Jackson’s staring at his flushed skin intently. “Shut the fuck up,” he answers, with absolutely no heat behind it.

“You gonna make me?”

“Maybe,” Stiles says with a shrug, sliding down until he’s fully straddling Jackson’s still lying body to capture his lips in a kiss. 

It takes less than three minutes for Stiles to forget his own name. He gives impatient little whines, but Jackson pulls away each time they risk going into warmer territory. He would protest more, really, but when Jackson pulls away with a dopey grin on his face and tells Stiles how excited he is to finally do a relationship right, with someone he cares about, dating and wooing, Stiles actually melts. He melts into a puddle because Jackson is a secret sap, even if Jackson is less than amused when Stiles verbalizes his feelings. 

“Whatever, Stilinski. I’ve been in your body for a week. We both know about the stash of romance novels you keep hidden behind your comics.”

Stiles squawks and throws a pillow at Jackson’s face, indignant for all of three minutes. 

“Whatever. This just means my expectations are high, you better bring out all your big guns if you plan on wooing me or whatever.”

“I do, Stiles. I really do.”

“Oh my god Jackson shut up.”

(They string the pack along for another few days. They would have gone longer, but on Wednesday, Derek is waiting outside Jackson’s garage again, except this time Jackson is Jackson and not Stiles. 

But it’s probably for the best — Jackson has a better poker face, and if Stiles had to listen to a heartfelt [or as close to heartfelt as Derek got, which was ‘not very’] apology, he would probably have burst out laughing somewhere between “I’m sorry I haven’t been treating you as part of the pack my mother would be so ashamed of me for forgetting the humans role in a pack” and “of course I don’t hate Jackson, does he really think I hate him, I’m just worried about him all the time, god what do I do.”

Jackson does a much better job of taking it all in stride, it’s much easier when Derek has a kicked puppy look about him. He reaches up, claps a hand on Derek’s shoulder, flashes his blue eyes, and simply tells Derek “don’t be sorry, be better.”

And then, of course, any sincerity in the moment is immediately erased when Stiles comes out of the house, idly tapping away at his phone, half a poptart dangling from his lips, asking Jackson “hey babe, do you know why Scott left me three voicemails last night? It sounded like he was crying in the last one, did you hear…oh. Hey Derek. What’s up?”

Watching Derek’s face go from kicked puppy to confused puppy to bright red (when ‘babe’ finally processed in his brain) before finally settling on something Jackson would refer to as ‘gassy’ is probably the best thing that’s happened to him in a month, Jackson decides. 

...Well, second best, he amends as Derek drives away, feeling Stiles kiss his cheek.)

[kingdaddydaichi]

NSFW Alphabet || Katsuki Bakugou

I had so much fun with this! Vodka may or may not have been involved in the making of this little ditty. 🍸 I hope you shameless hussies enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. 😩

*Exhibit A:

(Source)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he gets clingy asf, but plays it off like it's something he's doing for your sake. He'll probably never admit that he feels so vulnerable after sex, but he does. If it was a rough session - which it usually is with him - he'll ask if you're okay, if you're hurt anywhere, kiss any marks he left on you - he's such a protective hero boi.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: he's not gonna lie, he's fully aware of how well-endowed he is. He really is proud of his cock, the way it makes you sing when he works it - and he knows how to work it okay? Favorite non-sexual body part - his arms. He works hard to keep them cut (as in lifting, not cutting). 😬

Yours: listen, Katsuki is an ass man through and through. Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong, I'm 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 listening 👏🏼. He loves to watch the subtle ripples he sends through your ass cheeks when he's driving into you from behind. Also, our big scary boomboom man appreciates a nice, thicc pair of thighs. Bonus points if they're muscular/toned - he loves the way it feels when your thighs have such a strong grip around him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let's just say our boy's orgasms are explosive. He cums hard and loud, shooting long ropes of his hot seed. Consistency is about average, not too thick, not to thin, but there's a lot of it. He doesn't taste too bad - salty, but not too bitter. You're more likely to gag from the sheer volume and force of his cum hitting the back of your throat than the flavor.

His precum gets honorable mention here. It's fucking delicious. That is all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It took him no less than 2 years into your relationship to tell you this, and if you ever tell anyone he might actually kill you, or at the very least make your ass bleed. He hasn't gotten to the point that he's ready to try it yet, but he's not entirely opposed to the idea of you pegging him. Someday. It kinda does make his balls tingle a little just thinking about it tbh. He hasn't yet, but he thinks he might be ready to try working up to it and is really close to asking you to stick a finger in his ass and stroke his prostate. He's heard how good it feels and he's super curious to find out for himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, actually. He's only had 1 or 2 lovers before you, BUT he's determined to be #1 at everything. Couple that with how perceptive he is and you've got yourself a winner of a loverboy. He's going to make damn sure that, even if things don't work out between you two, he will always ALWAYS be the best you've ever had. No other man will outdo him, E-V-E-R.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle all the way, baby. As stated before, he loves watching your booty jiggle every time he slams his hips against it. He gets off on spreading your ass cheeks to watch his slick-coated cock slide in and out of you. God he just loves hitting it from behind, makes his dick so fucking hard.

Bonus 2nd Favorite Position (couldn't help myself): you on your back with your ankles on his shoulders, your ass lifted off the bed, him on his knees and hugging those thick thighs of yours, keeping them closed as he reams into you. (Slight variation of this one: he leans over you, nearly folding you in half, putting you back on your shoulders with his hands pressing into the mattress beside you, angling you such that his prominent corona rubs over your g-spot as he drills down into you. 10/10 you're gonna scream his name when (not if) your liquid gushes all over him.)

Tell me the truth, am I a disgusting human being? Here are all the fucks I give:

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bakugou is serious asf about his sex game. This is not the time to joke around or poke fun at him, understand me? If you do he will get pissed and either fuck the silly out of you, or if he's feeling particularly ruthless he'll just stop altogether and let you ache for him as punishment until you beg him for release.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his body, paying a lot of attention to his hygiene, which includes manscaping to keep his pubic hair trimmed and kempt. The carpet's just a shade darker than the drapes, like a honey blond. If he lets it grow out, it sticks straight out just like his head hair. It's actually kind of funny and he hates it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

*sigh* Let's be honest. Katsuki is not the super romantic type, at least not outwardly. However, if he realizes something he's doing is hurting you - physically or emotionally - he's going to stop dead in his tracks and hold you close, push his fingers through your hair, and tell you how much he loves you and how safe you are. He can be rough and he can be an asshole, but if he thinks he's genuinely hurt you at all, he's all over you, doing everything he can to make you understand that he will never let anyone hurt you, especially not himself. Got that?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off very often. You two share a very active sex life so he doesn't see the need to. If you have to be apart for more than a day or two, he'll rub one out. Or if the need hits him particularly hard and you're not available or in the mood, he's not above closing his eyes and reaching into his pants to wrap his thick fingers around his cock and start tugging.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Baby Jesus, where do I even begin? Kinky, kinky Katsuki. This man should come with warning signs and disclaimers.

First of all, he dom asf okay? Even if he lets you play with his ass someday, he's gonna be bratty about it. He's going to top from the bottom, hashtag facts. And trust that he WILL own you afterwards to securely reestablish his dominance.

Giving and Receiving: Hair pulling. DIRTY TALK - you think he's got a potty mouth in the streets? His mouth is downright filthy between the sheets. Loves it when you dirty talk right back to him. "You love taking my fat cock, don't you princess?" "Mm yessss, fuck me, Katsuki! Your cock feels so fucking good babyyy!" He eats that shit up.

Giving Only: Degradation. Praise. Spanking. Cockwarming. Dom/sub/power play. Shibari/ropework (he tried it bc you wanted to and he fucking loved it). Creampies. Begging. Discipline. Ravishment.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Literally anywhere inside your home/homes - bed, bathroom/kitchen countertops, kitchen/dining table, office desk/chair, any piece furniture is fair game really, up against a wall, washer/dryer, the fucking floor, ugh just all the places to fuck. Not one square foot is sacred tbh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Wear something that showcases the curve of your butt. Doesn't have to be revealing per se, matter of fact he'll get possessive as fuck if you're showing too much skin in public. At home/privately though? He can't help himself. Dat ass tho...he is going to smack it hard enough that it stings and that's final, understand?

Tease him. You can't be obvious about it though. If he senses that you're doing it on purpose, it'll just backfire. But if you just so happen to brush against his crotch when you squeeze past him, it'll drive him crazy. Go commando in short shorts/skirt and cross your legs just so, his dick will twitch. Even better if you do shit like this in public where you know he won't act on it. But when you get home you best believe he's going to dick you down so hard, won't even bother to take said shorts or skirt off.

His ears and neck are his most sensitive erogenous zones. Whisper in his ear or kiss his neck and he's going to grit his teeth in an effort to fight back the shudder that threatens to rattle his bones.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Let's get one thing straight. Katsuki Bakugou does not share. This is non-negotiable. He will not agree to anything involving additional people - cuckolding, threesomes, orgies, exhibitionism, voyeurism (unless it's him watching you pleasure yourself - that he will gladly do, and probably start palming himself in the process).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving and receiving. Giving puts him in full control of your pleasure, receiving makes him feel like you're worshipping his cock, which you probably are. Have you seen this man's cock? Of course you have. Gatdamn.

Y'all, Katsuki's so good at eating pussy. Like how does one get that good at eating pussy? I don't even know, but god the way he flicks his hot tongue over your precious, tiny bud before wearing it down like a fucking feed bag? It's unnatural. Like it could be his backup quirk if blowing shit up doesn't work out. You've seen the way he licks his lips when he gets excited, everyone has.* He doesn't even bother swallowing while he's feeding on you so you just be dripping in slick and saliva and he's just slurping away. It's lewd.

*See Exhibit A above.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You already know this, but I'll say it anyway. His go-to fucking style is fast and rough, dominant and relentless, hard and dirty. But every once in a while he'll want to take you slow and deep and passionate. He'll hold you so tight in his arms and chest, you'll have to tap his shoulder sometimes to let you breathe. And he'll just roll his hips so fucking thoroughly both of you will feel every last inch, his pubic bone rubbing your clit so hard. You've told him so many times how much you love it when he makes love to you like this, but he maybe makes it a rare treat on purpose. 😈 Little shit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are difficult for our boy. It's not that he's against them, it's just that he savors every drop of sensuality, he has a tendency to draw the pleasure out as long as possible. He can’t help it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The idea of having public sex turns him on, but he's only done it with you a couple of times when he was 10000% sure you wouldn't be caught. He can't risk doing anything that would tarnish his reputation and goal of becoming the #1 Hero. He might be freaky as hell, but he needs a sex scandal like an Alaskan needs a refrigerator.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He loves you long time. He's a Taurus for fuck's sake (well, Aries/Taurus cuspie, but that just sweetens the deal). Great stamina. Grinds you down like a whetstone. Can last as long as he needs to to ensure you cum for him as many times as it takes for you to beg him to stop. If he feels himself getting too close while you're blowing him, he'll stop you and go down on you instead. If he's inside of you, he'll pull out and start kissing all over your body, sucking, nipping, licking until his urge to cum passes, then he pushes it right back in and keeps going.

If on the off-chance he does cum before you, he'll be ready to go again in about 20-30 mins. Just give him some motivation, he deserves it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn't own any toys when you first got together, but you did. He hated the idea of you using them though, especially when he's right there with you. You've since assured him that you don't want to use them to replace him, but to enhance the pleasure. So now you do use them from time to time.

The first time you managed to coax him into using a toy together, it was a small wireless bullet with a remote. When you brought it out and showed it to him, there was a wild glint in his eye. He carefully inserted the vibrator into you, his cock slowly following suit. He loved the fact that he had complete control over this thing, but later complained because the sensation of it against the head of his cock made him cum too fast. He still wants to use it sometimes though. 😏

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he can be so unfair. He loves teasing you until you're begging him to put his cock inside you. He's not so much into orgasm denial per se; he just loves to hear you beg him for shit - to let you cum, to suck his dick, to stop fucking you when you're overstimmed, etc.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lol he's fucking LOUD! And he's going to make you cum so hard that you're screaming his fucking name. There was a time when one or both of you lived in an apartment and the neighbors would bang on the wall behind your headboard.

Shit, what sounds does he NOT make? He growls, moans, grunts, groans, yells, swears, fucks you so hard you can hear the wet sound of slapping skin, hell even the bed protests. Another reason he doesn't fuck in public - he can't stay quiet enough to be discreet about it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Okay, as much of a wild sex beast as he is behind closed doors, he gets embarrassed so easily when your sex life is so much as hinted at around others. It's legit funny how flustered he gets about it.

If he goes into work real tired and Kirishima says, "Hey Bakubro, you look like shit this morning. You and (y/n) stay up too late?" while doing the finger in the hole gesture, Katsuki will just "Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair, or I'll blast your ass right through that fucking wall!"

Or if you two go out together with friends and the girls are talking about sex-related stuff, Katsuki will just roll his eyes and try to ignore it. But if one of them is all "So, (y/n), does Bakugou ever like accidentally let off explosions while you're doing it?" and you wink and say, "Only when he's especially *cough* frustrated *cough*". Katsuki will go red from his neck up to his hairline and start stuttering, sparks flying from his palms. "H-hey, d-don't tell them sh-shit like that! I-it's none of their god-goddamn b-business, (y/n), what th-the f-fuck?!" Meanwhile, you and the girls are in stitches while he stomps away, just mortified, bless his heart. When you catch your breath from laughing you'll follow it up with, "Looks like tonight's gonna be one of those nights", and you all lose it again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As has been mentioned, Bakugou's well-endowed. I figure he's packing about 7.5-8" in length x just under 2" wide. He takes some getting used to, that's for damn sure. Oh, and he's more of a shower than a grower. Like around 6" long x 1.5" wide when flaccid. Katsuki + sweatpants/basketball shorts = swinging dick print, alright sis? Take notes, this motherfucker visibly jumps when he does, class dismissed.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Eh, he's surprisingly not ridiculously horny. Maybe a little above average sex drive? A lot of times hero work just takes it out of him and he comes home utterly exhausted and just needs a soft place to land, and you provide him with all the love and nurturing in your heart. ❤

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends, really, on the time of day and what type of day it's been. If it's late (like past 9pm lol) and he fought more villains than usual that day, he's probs gonna pass out pretty soon after. If it's earlier in the day - especially first thing in the morning - it gets him pumped and almost comically genki.

[deluluass]

What bliss, domesticity.

for: @tink2kagome. i’m sorry it took me so long to work on ur pretty setter squad request T^T i’ll probably do like another one in the future! 

  & @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @belpomme @chaichai-the-weeb for being such lovely mutuals <3 <3 

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; yakuza/organized crime; gun mention; a lot of (non-sexual) food references in this one

  Jun’ichi Saikawa was obviously the kind of man who liked to laugh. Not unlike most people in their world. The kind who use their entire body when they do, announcing to the entire world with a bellowing “Ha Ha Ha!” how pleased they are with whatever’s going on in front of them.

  Which, in all honesty, was pretty admirable, that the old man could still do it considering how bored to tears Wataru was. 

  That it’s a humid afternoon didn’t help either. He could feel the sweat on his back even when the doors were already slid open, exhibiting a verdant garden filled with blossoms and shrub peonies. From his place he could see the school of koi swirling in the shallow pond, their scales iridescent under the warm rays of the sun. 

  “Didn’t know you were the funny sort, 'Kaashi!” Saikawa blurted out, the sake in his hand spilling to his fingers.

  This wasn’t Wataru’s first day on the job, but this is the first that he gets to do something this important. And with someone he highly respects, too. 

  So he gave his collar a light tug, steeling himself to endure as he tucked his legs further beneath him, and resorted to thinking about the many things he would absolutely surrender just to lie down on the warm mat. 

  His car, maybe.

  The brand new noise-cancelling headphones he bought, if pushed. 

  Wataru saw Akaashi nod.

  “I appreciate a joke every now and then,” he said.

  The larger man laughed again.

  “Here, here!” Saikawa thundered, snatching a tiny, yellow box from the maid who appeared as swiftly as she’d left. 

  “I heard you like sweets. Here,” he said, grinning as he handed it to Akaashi. “My youngest son just opened a cake shop. I know what you’re thinking, but who am I to say no, eh?”

  Akaashi passed the box to Wataru. 

  “Mind it for me, please,” he whispered.

  How unexpected. Akaashi-san has a sweet tooth.

  Huh. 

  That’s pretty neat. Wataru himself wasn’t partial to cakes, but he does love pudding. 

  “You are a good father, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi told him. 

  This time, Wataru didn’t bother suppressing a yawn as Saikawa fumbled for his phone, hiding it behind his hand as he stared at the birds chirping and hopping about outside.

  “Wanna see him? He’s much like you! Good head on his shoulders, that one.” 

  “I am honored, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi echoed back, peering down at the photos Saikawa showed him. 

  “He sends me a lot of these- uh,” Saikawa snorted, his nose reddened by the alcohol. “What do young people call it, the- pictures-”

  “Selfies?” Akaashi politely supplied. 

  “That’s the one! Look. Precious, ain’t he?”

  His earpiece crackled to life. 

  Konoha’s voice emerged from the static. 

  “We’re ready when you are,” his senior murmured. “Man, this is taking too long. Let’s get some burgers when we’re done.”

  “Akaashi-san,” Wataru croaked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he continued, “K-Komi-san and the others are waiting for you.”

  Saikawa perked up. “Ah, of course! Of course!” 

  He stumbled when he attempted to stand up. Akaashi was quick on his feet to assist him.

  “I knew I could count on you, son,” he muttered, patting Akaashi’s back. “Now, you tell Bokuto that what happened between us- it’s all in the past! All in the past! And if those bastards mess with him again, you tell him to run to old Jun’ichi!”

  Akaashi clasped Saikawa’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Akaashi said. “I’ll be sure to relay your sentiments to Bokuto-san.”

  “You do that, my boy.” Saikawa’s belly shook as he laughed. “Your generation’s a smart one, indeed. The in-fighting and wars, bah! All that trouble for nothing; that’s not your style. Your lot’s the future now!”

  Then, Akaashi stepped a few meters back and bowed. 

  Wataru followed behind him. 

  “We will be taking our leave,” Akaashi said. “It has been an illuminating talk, Jun’ichi-san.”

  The sound of the bamboo drip trickling water into another stalk permeated through the silence.

  It collapsed and clunked against a stone. 

  He heard the birds flutter away.

  When Wataru raised his head, Saikawa had already been lying face down on the floor. 

  And, of course, Wataru’s used to it: the crack of a gun muffled by a silencer. 

  He’s been practicing his entire life, after all. He actually doesn’t flinch anymore and Wataru thinks he should be proud of himself.

  It’s just that... how could someone who used to be there, suddenly...disappear? Saikawa was right in front of him a few minutes ago. Laughing and showing off photographs of his son. And now he’s...not.

  But, Saikawa didn’t disappear. Not really. 

  The blood seeping through the tatami is proof of it, but Wataru chooses not to look. In theory, he knows what a bullet through the skull looks like. He’d just rather not see today if what he’s taught reflects true in the real world. 

  Maybe some other time.

  “Wataru.” 

  Wataru flinched. “Y-yes?”

  Akaashi looked back at him. “The cake?”

  His body was still trembling and it took a lot of strength to not let it show in his hands when he gave it back to Akaashi, the box pleasantly yellow with doodles of doe-eyed eggs dancing along the handle. Unblemished, unlike Akaashi, who was sporting a splatter of blood along his cheek. 

  It’s surprisingly still cool to touch, too.

  “No, thank you,” he said, rejecting the handkerchief that Wataru offered. 

  From afar, Wataru could hear the faint melodies of an old love song being played by a car radio. No doubt Konoha’s doing. It followed them, growing louder the closer they walked back into the parking lot. The others bowed and sent gruff salutations along Akaashi’s way as they dragged bodies out of the Saikawa mansion. 

  (It was nauseating and Wataru wanted to pass out.)

  He pressed his nails harshly into the meat of his palm. 

  “A-Akaashi-san,” Wataru began. “I didn’t know that- that um, you liked... sweets.”

  Akaashi halted. 

  “No, I don’t,” he said, blinking. “But my wife does.”

  Wataru stared at him. 

  Akaashi went ahead. 

  He stayed that way— staring and wondering, until they stopped by the fast food restaurant that Konoha loved so much. Wataru couldn’t even finish his burger and fries. 

  By the time that they hit the freeway, Akaashi had already cleaned himself up and Wataru was still grappling with the word “wife.” 

  Of course he knows the man is married. 

  But, how, exactly, do you reconcile his reputation with the sight of him, every passing headlight sharpening his features, quietly humming along to Aki Yashiro? Who was longing for Shinjuku at night, the beauty of it, and oh, how wonderful it’d be, she said: a rendezvous with her lover, waiting for her under raining cherry blossoms. 

  Wataru figured that he was tired and starting to see things. 

  That small smile that graced Akaashi’s lips couldn't be real, either, especially those hands of his that held the box of cake like it’s worth more than gold.

He wasn't really particular when it comes to music. A song's a song, in Akaashi's opinion. Another form of noise that helps when the silence gets too overbearing. 

  But you, on the other hand, liked music. Listened to it the same way one eats their favorite food: memorizes the lyrics; goes out of your way to collect unearthed photographs and newspaper clippings that made the singer seem more human.

  You loved music— was probably the right way of putting it.

  Especially the old variety. He didn't get it at first. The sounds are dated; no one speaks in that language with that cadence anymore; the singer's probably dead.

  Well, Akaashi still doesn't get it, if he were to be honest. 

  Yet here he is. 

  His hands were wrapped around your waist, coaxing you into a slow— albeit clumsy, waltz.

  "Kei-kun!" you squeaked. "The dishes!"

  You dragged your slippers beneath you, struggling to wipe the suds off your hands. 

  "S-seriously, Kei-kun..!"

  Sure, he doesn’t fully understand what’s great about it, music. 

  Yet here he is. 

  Perhaps it’s because he immediately recognized the first few notes this time, that’s why he’s doing this. He didn’t even wait for the DJ to finish saying, “You’re still listening to Vintage F.M. Here’s a classic for you couples out there. Have a romantic night with Nat King Cole’s L-O-V-”

  Perhaps it’s because your cream stew tasted extra special that it made him shrug the fatigue off, giving in to the urge of pulling you close and taking your damp hand in his to sway and bob along the skipping bassline. Your bashful objections went in one ear and out the other.

  Sure, he’s not the type to do this, either, dancing. 

  Yet here he is. 

  Perhaps it’s because he knew that it’s your favorite song.

  Perhaps it’s just what marriage does to you.

  "Did you like the cake?" he whispered against your neck, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and the way your skin jumped as he did.

  Your breaths were shallow against his chest, but you managed a soft, “Yes, sweetheart. Thank you.”

  Akaashi caressed your back, kneading the tensed muscles as he huffed. 

  “Good,” he murmured, trembling. “Good girl. What a relief." 

  It was endearing, how offbeat the both of you were. A shame, though, considering that Nat King Cole’s fervently insisting on love; that it’s all that I can give to you; that it’s more than just a game for two. 

  So Akaashi makes up for his two left feet by joining in. He pressed his lips to your forehead. How strange, your presence in his life. What did he do to deserve you by his side, for this contentment that thaws away the chill?

  (He put a ring on your finger, is what he did. He deserves this.)

  “Two,” he droned, made giddy by the sparks in his belly, “in love can make it.”

  You looked at him, wide-eyed. 

  “Take my heart and please don’t break it.”

  He spun you around.

  “Oh my god, Kei-kun,” you gasped. “You can’t sing.”

  Akaashi’s aware of it all too well. He can’t carry a note; not him: the guy who’s had monotony ingrained in his very being. But that’s why he has you.

  A startled giggle left you as he guided you into a box step, the trumpet rising and falling over the strings. You stepped on him a few times, so he lifted you up, just so, and kicked off your slippers. Then, he set your feet atop his own. 

  He took you with him as he moved, waddling and careful not to hit his back against the countertop. It came as no revelation that both of you weren’t any better dancers even after this maneuver.

  Akaashi continued. Starting with L—

  “Is for the way you look at me.”

  “Stop, stop-” Your eyes crinkled at the sides. “You’re flat.”

  Akaashi persisted, anyway, taking your cheek to pepper kisses all over your face.

  “O is for the only one I see.”

  Your laugh was airy— light and buoyant all over the kitchen, like a fairy leaving stardust in its wake. Not gratingly booming nor demanding. After all, you weren’t the kind who felt the need for it: an audience to witness how pleased you are; how strong and powerful you are over everyone else. 

  Besides, your laugh was just for him. A private and intimate thing. And he was so lost in it that he almost forgot what’s been gnawing at him for the entire morning.

  Akaashi rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling the downy fabric of your dress as he gripped you by the hips. 

  “Where did you go earlier?” 

  The orchestra was in a joyous uproar, joining the rapid beating of your heart; the trumpet bright and clear, singing in harmony with the bass and saxophones and trombones, as Nat King Cole repeatedly guaranteed, as if an oath, that love was made for me and you. 

  Love was made for me and you.

  “I had to buy some groceries!” you piped up. “We ran out of ingredients. Sorry, I forgot to bring my phone with me. Oh, I have to run you a bath. I’ll tell you when it’s done, alright?”

  You broke away from him with a beaming grin, but Akaashi wanted to ask, despite the evidence of it before him. 

  “Are you happy?”

  It has already ended, the song. The DJ was signing off for the night.

  You nodded, playfully jabbing his arm with a fist. 

  “Of course,” you told him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Perhaps it’s because you were never really good at pretense, no matter how much you hid behind needless noise. 

  Music. Laughter. Running water. 

  Akaashi sighed as he slumped down the nearest stool.

  Of course you’re happy. Why wouldn’t you be?

  After rubbing his eyes with clammy fingers, Akaashi fiddled them together beneath his temples. He released a heavy breath and fished for his phone in his pocket.

  He spoke after the first two rings. 

  “Wataru-san, I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said. “Can you do something for me?”

  His subordinate didn't ask him why, neither did he react when he'd stated his request. Akaashi knew, however, that the question was sitting in Wataru's clipped replies. The boy’s “yes, sir” and “understood, sir” were far too enthusiastic than normal.

  Akaashi didn’t mind, though, if he did ask. And despite that familiar pang of dread, Akaashi would answer him like the common— just like the average, everyday husband— with that characteristic, bordering on irksome pride that they have when they talk about their wives. 

  Why?

  “Well, Wataru-san,” Akaashi would answer. “Perhaps this is just what marriage does to you.”

The house was a house like any other.

  There was an old pickup truck parked outside the freshly painted gate, carrying crates of fruits and vegetables in its trunk. Along the bricked walls was an overgrowth of vines and ferns. It extended around the windows and crept up the balcony.

  A large Shiba ran outside and jumped to your lap as soon as it saw you by the driveway.

  Wataru heard Chiaki stir at the back of the car.

  “Pay up, asshole,” he grunted, waking a disheveled Ryota who’s still holding a half-bitten melon bread.

  His lackey cracked his neck and gave the scenery a cursory glance. “Could be a front.”

  Ryota grumbled and went back to sleep.

  “Idiot,” Chiaki clicked his tongue. “She traveled all the way to Miyagi just to give intel? And here? Of all places?”

  Three days. 

  They’ve tailed you for three days. Akaashi-san never said anything else, besides that within the week, while he’s gone and sealing deals in another country, there was a high likelihood of you folding and getting out of Tokyo. 

  To run right here. In Miyagi.

  He didn’t say why, really, but Wataru supposes it’s better that he didn’t. Because during the days of absolute, mind-crushing boredom, of watching some suburban wife go out for a morning walk, chat with her neighbors, and shop around the market, rinse and repeat, coming up with the Why had been their only salvation.

  The betting pool has two answers: cheater or snitch.

  Chiaki was insistent on the former, while Ryota stood by the latter. 

  And Wataru...Wataru could only watch, waiting with a bated breath as the door finally opened.

  “I bet it’s someone younger,” Chiaki said. “Usually is.”

  Seems that none of them were winning anything today.

  The man who emerged from the house was far older— who, oddly enough, resembled you. An  old woman soon followed behind him. Both of them looked at you as if they were witnessing a specter, or someone who's crawled back from the dead. An appropriate comparison, especially since they’re both wearing somber black clothes.

  It wasn’t his place to assume. Though he’s been promoted to a slightly higher position, it will never come close to the place that Keiji Akaashi occupies. Wataru knows all of these, but nothing was stopping him from putting the pieces together, no matter what little he has.

  They could only stare when all of you broke down into tears, locked in each other’s embrace as you knelt on the pavement. 

  Don’t let her stay too long.

  That had been one of Akaashi-san’s orders.

  So the three of them didn’t wait it out. By the time that the sun had set, Wataru had already stepped out of the car, taking Ryota with him. He made sure to remind the boy, just in case he’d forgotten.

  “Be gentle, alright?” Wataru reiterated.

  There hadn’t been any need for that, it turned out. 

  He’s sure you’ve never met before, but Wataru saw bitter understanding flash in your eyes when you caught them loitering in front of your house. Fear was there, too, of course. 

  Wataru was convinced that surely it’s a good thing. It saved everyone a lot of time, that way.

  You didn’t even say a word, only giving Wataru a stiff nod when he’d introduced himself, and remained like so on the ride back to Tokyo, with the strap of your handbag trapped by a clenched fist. Wataru didn’t try to initiate small talk; it felt unnecessary.

  It took a while for Wataru to realize that you also hadn’t bothered to change out of your pajamas, though he gave you a couple of minutes to say your farewells. 

  Pajamas, obscured now by a thick, gray coat. 

  Akaashi-san was right.

  You had no plans of coming home. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while.

  Wataru decided not to linger on it anymore. 

  He ignored the blank stare that pierced right through the rear-view mirror. And then, Wataru wondered, hand sweating in his pocket, what the three of them should have for dinner.

Thick chunks of pumpkin melted in your mouth with just the first spoonful of broth. 

  It'd been a while since the last time Akaashi cooked. So, more than anything, it was the sight of him setting plates and utensils that took you aback, greeting you with a, "Welcome home. You're just in time. Food's ready," his sleeves rolled to his elbows while donning your baby owl-printed apron. 

  The taste didn't. Surprise you, that is. He's a good cook. Unlike you, who only became marginally better one hundred burn scars later. 

  It also didn't surprise you that he flew back home at the drop of a hat. Even when he said he'd be gone for a week.

  "How is it?" Akaashi asked after chewing. "Took me a while to make it."

  It obviously did, you thought. When you arrived, Irma Thomas was already begging through the record player.

  "Do you need me, like I need you?" she implored, straight from the heart. "Look at me, I'm crying from holding you." 

  The last song on your favorite record. It was cheap and had the best from the artists you loved. 

  Etta James. Ella Fitzgerald. Aretha Franklin. The Mills Brothers. Bessie Smith. All in one vinyl.

  "Yeah," you replied, clearing your throat when you realized how hard it is to speak. "It's delicious."

  You looked back down to your bowl. The  tofu had gone untouched. Your food was still close to spilling to the brim, while Akaashi was almost finished with his, scrolling on his phone laid on the table.

  "So no one coaxed you into it," you heard him say, and that had ripped your eyes away from the broth like a bandage on an infected wound.

  Akaashi was holding your phone, reading the messages- his number was the only one there, as pealing bells resonated in the dining room. 

  "I'd think of all the things that I wanted of you," cried Irma Thomas. "To make me forget the pain that you caused."

  "I would've known if anyone else talked to you, anyway," he huffed, locking the screen before blowing steam off the morsel. 

  "You would," you conceded. The tofu was soft when you bit into it, sinking into your teeth.

  "I found that in our cabinet. Last time it was in the kitchen drawer, wasn't it?" Akaashi helped himself to a bowl of rice. "Don't leave it in stuffy places. What if you forget where you hid it and you won't know when I call?"

  "And I can no longer keep track of where you are for every moment of the day?" you could hear him say. Though he didn't; though all that could heard, besides the scraping of utensils, was Irma Thomas declaring:

  A fragile thing, like life. It just don't last so long.

  It could be for a minute or an hour. Or then again, from now.

  Your lips tightened with a grin. "I won't do it again, sweetheart," you said, spoon hanging limply in your hold.    

  He didn't need to say it. 

  That your phone has a tracker. That this house is still the same cage that it'd been before. That the only difference between then and now is that silver band on your finger.

  Akaashi’s blinked back at you as he sipped  what remained of the soup. You tried to do the same.

  The savory taste was cloying and it burned in your throat, so you didn't attempt to finish the bowl. It cut down to your heart, sinking heavily on your stomach, bile rising as the song came to a close.

  You gulped it down, though. You had to. And in the final moments, Irma Thompson told you what she really wanted. 

  "Make me forget," she said, "the pain that you'd caused."

  The chorus joined her. "Understanding is a great thing," she concluded. "If it comes from the heart."

  Akaashi was on his own phone this time. Most likely checking on the business that he left, judging by those furrowed brows and that long-suffering look in his eyes.   

  Fizzling noise came at the heels of the fading music. Then, it stopped. And there was nothing left anymore but silence.

  It's over now. Akaashi’s making a move to clean up. You were supposed to say, "That was a lovely dinner, honey." Or, you could tell him to sit down and watch a movie with you when he's done. 

  "I'll help you with the dishes," you wanted to say. 

  I'll help you with the dishes. It was so easy to say. 

  Instead, what came out of your mouth was a hushed call for his name.

  "Kei-kun," you repeated, brittle and weak and dry.  

  "I'm so sorry," you might've mouthed. 

  You could barely hear your own voice as you looked at him. Akaashi paused from tidying the table. 

  You're parched and a lot has happened today. Gathering the courage to take that first step out of the city had taken what little strength you had. The fear never left you. Seeing your old house almost ended you. 

  It should be physically impossible for you to still be able to cry. And yet there doesn't seem to be an end to your tears now, the same way your apologies unfurled in an embarrassingly infinite string.

  "Don't lock me inside here again," you whispered, clinging to him as he shushed you, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs as he helped you drink a glass of water.

  He carried you to your room and sat you down on the bed, right between his thighs. You sobbed into your hands, tears and snot on the sleeves of your pajama top.

  "I- I just wanted to see them. That's all. Just one day, Kei-kun. One day. I was gonna come back, I swear." 

  You're rambling. You're a madwoman pleading and bargaining with a stone-cold judge because playing house is the only thing keeping her alive. 

  And you messed that up you foolish, foolish girl.

  "Please don't hurt my family," you heaved. "They're all I have left."

  Akaashi doesn't speak, not for a while, but when he did, you bawled harder.

  "I can kill them all," he said, matter of factly. 

  It is true. Hearing him say it does not make it easier to take, though. 

  "I can hurt you the same way that you hurt me."

  Your neck strained as he tipped your chin towards him with a slender finger. 

  "I can break you," he muttered, not batting an eye.

  That, too, is true. You know it all too well. He said it with such serenity, still and undisturbed by the shaking of your head, because it goes without saying. 

  Except, you, too, know it. 

  When he is breaking. When he is falling apart.

  He smothered you, taking your entire body to curl against you, making himself small as he pressed his face on your back.

  "Yet- and yet I-" Akaashi sniffled. You felt your shirt dampen. "I've given you everything."

  When he finally brought his face close to yours, he looked so lost. Almost like a little boy who's on the verge of drowning,  clinging desperately onto a lifesaver and too shocked to shout for help. 

  You hated him all the more for it.

  "Each other," he said, snarling, almost, through tears as he grabbed your face with both hands. "That's all we have left, you hear? You and I. Husband and wife."

  He seized your jaw and turned it towards the vanity mirror.

  The room was dark save for the light in the hallway, peeking into the crack through the doorway. 

  But you could see yourself. And you could see your hand intertwined in his, your rings gleaming like muted starlights. 

  "We made a vow," he whispered, kissing your ring finger. 

  A detached part of you is astonished with how inescapable it is. Whether it be a reward or a punishment; a good day or a bad one.

  No matter what happens, you always end up like this, don't you? 

  Begging to him with your legs spread wide.

  You did as you'd always done when he began unbuttoning your top. 

  You go back to that autumn morning, when you first laid your eyes on him, a cup of coffee in his hand, and you thought that he had the prettiest face you'd ever seen.

  You go back to when he was just this really romantic guy who sent you flowers every day. There was a letter, every time. 

  Nothing too grandiose. Just short messages hoping that you'd have a great day ahead.

  He kissed your neck, wet smooches and long, flat-tongued licks dipping down your shoulder.

  He watched you through the mirror, his eyes a pair of darkened blues daring you to look away.

  Akaashi Keiji was your boyfriend, you told yourself. You dated him for quite some time before you married.

  Akaashi Keiji got along well with your father and doted on your mother. On Sundays, you visit them and they send you back to Tokyo with ripe watermelons. 

  Akaashi Keiji has never hurt you.

  The man tracing the hem of your bra, cupping your clothed tits and drawing lazy circles over nipples, however, did.

  (And he still will in future. He still is, right now.)

  This man is the real one. 

  And you have angered him, so he will not make this easy for you.

  "What did you promise me?" Akaashi whispered as he lightly bit the shell of your ear. "Or have you forgotten?"

  Of course, you haven't forgotten. You were chained to this very room when you made them, after all.

  "N-no, I remember," you said, catching your breath. "I remember, Kei-kun."

  "Then say it," he said. "Look at me."

  You shivered as his palms swept over your  stomach; as he unfastened your bra, letting it fall down your arms.

  "Look at me when you say it."

  You felt your nipples harden, gooseprickles spread all over you, as the air hit your bare skin, cooling the sweat that made it glisten.

  "Please," he rasped.

  The eyes of the woman in the mirror was hooded, threatening to close as she puffed with each squeeze and caress to her tits, swiveling her hips against her husband’s crotch as he grinded into her. 

  "I will be happy," she said.

  Akaashi nuzzled your temple, using his rough fingers to tease your nipples just as he did, brushing them to and fro, then grazing the bumpy skin around until you're squeaking out his name. 

  And when he began pressing down on the stiff peaks with his thumbs, before rolling and pulling at them, the heels of his palm digging into your tits, you saw the woman claw at her husband's hair, a graceless affair that almost scratched his eye out, making him reach for both her arms to wrap them around his neck. 

  "I- I will..!" Her lips parted in a breathless scream and it was disgusting how lewd she appeared. "I will not run away!"

  The streak of tears on his cheeks touched yours when he kissed you. His lips were soft and warm, his wet tongue gliding in so slowly as he deepened the kiss with a throaty groan.

  His other hand crawled down to your soaked panties. You couldn't contain the mewl that left you.

  Both of you gasped and struggled to breathe again after you parted from each other.  

  "You understand, don't you?" he rasped.   

  Two of his fingers slid down your folds, only to slither back up, then down again, smearing your cunt with its own slick.

  But he never touched your swollen clit, even though it's throbbing and aching to be rubbed and the hard bulge sitting between your ass grew harder the more you squirmed in his hold, whimpering like a bitch in heat.  

  You heard your husband sigh, his hot breath tickling you when he said, "This isn't about you now."

Belly pushed into the edge of the dressing table, rattling and battering against the wall with each forceful thrust, and your leg perched atop it, made numb by Akaashi's grip on your thigh.

  That was the first thing that you could recall when you opened your eyes.

  But your entire body was screaming in pain, so you knew that everything else that happened last night would come back to you soon enough.

  The flesh had a memory of its own. 

  You sat up with a groan and you didn't have to see the marks to know.

  His teeth were still nipping at you, biting you until they drew blood, only to follow with an apologetic lapping of his tongue. 

  You could feel him beneath you, his hands clawing you down to him, palms kneading your ass cheeks as you bounced up and down on his cock.

  You could feel him above you, gripping your wrists not unlike the cuffs that once kept you shackled. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling you close to him, filling you up with loads and loads of cum, squelching every time he sank down your weeping hole.

  And when your vision began to blur at the edges, he carried your body, mere seconds into fainting, to the dressing table. 

  The evidence of that stared back at you in shameful streaks and smudges, traces of your fingers on the mirror when he rammed your cunt from behind.

  "Are you happy?" Akaashi whispered.

  You don't know. 

  When he's just your husband who comes home to your arms and brings you sweets because he knows how much you love them; who dances with you in the kitchen and listens intently to you when you talk about that cute dog you saw at the park, were you happy, then?

  You don't know, but the woman in the mirror, in that moment, surely was.

  She even said, "Yes, yes, Kei-kun, right there, fuck me right there!"

  Her pupils were blown wide, eyes rolling almost over to the back of her head. And despite the cries that escaped her, there was a wide, dissipated smile on her lips,  spit trailing down her chin.

  "Look at you," Akaashi said, grunting when your walls tightened around his shaft. "You're clearly happy with me."

  "So why? Why'd you even think of leaving?" He rocked his hips, grinding his thick cock against that spot that had you holding onto the mirror. "Don't ever do that to me again." 

  You told him no, no, you won't run away again, but it didn't seem to placate his unease, nor his tears.

  "I'm so scared, everyday, that you'll leave me and- and- it feels like hell. I would rather die." 

  He kissed your nape as he huffed and said, "Because I don't know what I'll do without you."

  You never really understood why; what about you had caused him to single you out in the sea of people that had vied for his attention. Especially now as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

  There were dark circles under your eyes and Akaashi’s t-shirt was rumpled on your body, engulfing you whole with its size— a far cry from that lovely, dazzling bride that his best friend, Bokuto, had described you as on your wedding day. 

  But you’re aware, more than anyone, that Akaashi Keiji is the last person to care about appearances. 

  When he entered the room, carrying a tray in his hands, he gazed at that disheveled girl with eyebags big enough to be dragged around the same way he looked at her when he waited for her at the end of the aisle.

  “I made you pancakes,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he sat down beside you.

  You were tired so it didn’t dawn on you as quickly as it should that he made them the way you preferred. Four fluffy pieces stacked atop one another, sprinkled with powdered sugar, whipped cream and a smattering of berries on the side.

  He fiddled with his fingers when you only stared at it, so you immediately took the fork in your hand and sliced the pancake in half.

  “I’ll be taking some time off work,” Akaashi said as you took the food in your mouth. You only nodded, having noticed that he wasn’t wearing the usual bespoke suit as soon as he entered the room.

  You felt him near you; felt his hand, warm to touch, cup your face.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes were misty and, this close, it seemed that he, too, wasn’t in a good shape. “So please-” Akaashi licked his chapped lips, “Please don’t go.”

  “I won’t,” you replied, giving him the smile that you knew he needed. “I promise.”

  Then, as you moved to kiss him on the cheek, the chains that tethered you to the bedpost clinked softly beneath the blanket, and you didn’t bother to keep the tears at the bay.

  Akaashi wiped them for you when you said that you loved him. And when he asked why, you only shrugged and told him that the pancakes were so sweet that they could make anyone cry. 

[bitchassbucky]

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

[dclsbaby]

mykonos-crossed lovers (part i) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part i

prologue

part ii

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: angst?

Author’s Note: hi everyone, thank you so so much for the responses to the prologue! I am so overwhelmed and did not expect to receive so much kindness it makes me wanna cry hahaha 🥺 thank you a thousand times over! and if this is your first time getting to know the fic, I highly suggest you read the prologue before diving into part 1! This chapter is sort of a filler chapter (I know it has 2.6k words lol), it shows how (y/n) have been doing since the break up & how the trip came about, I hope it’ll make sense once you read it 🤍 thanks for reading x

Gif:

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It’s been months since you last spoke to him. Him. The thought of him still hurts. The idea of him existing without you, hurts. As much as you try to fight it, you still remember him like the back of your hand. You could draw on paper the contours of his face by memory, by instinct, like remembering your way home. He was a love you have never experienced before. Something about his magnetism seemed impossible to resist.

You and Dominic broke up nearly half a year ago. Your hopes of an amicable breakup were destroyed by him. His confusion, his anger, his frustration made it impossible for you two to stay friends. He couldn’t even begin to imagine being just a friend to you when his entire heart belongs to you. He called you selfish for leaving, he called you stubborn for having your mind made up without letting him put up a fight when he was ready to battle anyone, even you, to save your relationship.

The first few months were difficult, but the first few weeks were excruciating. You barely ate, as the numbing in the pit of your stomach constantly made you nauseous that your body couldn’t digest anything you ate. You couldn’t bring yourself to shower and get dressed, and spent days laying in bed, wallowing in sadness. Overtime, you just learn to live with the pain.

Since then, you’ve had good days, and slowly but surely stopped faking smiles and replaced them with genuine ones. But your bad days felt like hell, with your mind often teasing you with memories of him that you’ve suppressed enough to compartmentalise, then it comes back to you all at once, and consumes your entire soul. The pain is suffocating, like being crush by tidal waves, leaving you no time to run for shore, the waters dragging you, pulling you in many directions. All you could do was be still, stay paralysed, and pray that it goes away. That’s what remembering him felt like.

Then on other days, you often wonder how you were able to manage all this, with the pain still fresh whenever you think about it, but I guess we’re all guilty of pushing our feelings to the side and pretending that everything’s alright, when it’s the opposite. You’re still alive, despite it all. But you want to live, not just survive.

The truth is, you did not leave because you fell out of love. In fact, you were too in love—it’s a crime. He was your entire life. Days were spent waiting for him to come home from training and matches. Missing him during away games. Your entire happiness depended on him, and that terrified you. You weren’t happy with yourself either, and expected more out of your life. The burden of having a prosperous career, a stable income, a life for yourself that you loved, becoming too heavy to bear. You had all these dreams and goals set for yourself that you never got to actualise so you could be by his side. Your love for him was insurmountable, that you couldn’t accommodate anything for yourself. No matter how hard you tried, you will always put him first. It was natural. Even though he never asked for all your attention, you couldn't simply choose between yourself or him, because you would always choose him. Over and over.

So you did what you had to do, break your own heart, and his, to love yourself.

Since your breakup, you finally moved out of your friend’s place and got yourself a nice two-bedroom flat at the city centre with a stunning view of the city. You landed yourself a job as a junior editor for British Vogue that demands commuting to London several days a week. As you thrive in difficult situations, the breakup forced you to submerge yourself in work, mainly to avoid the pain, but it propelled you to get to where you are.

Trying to get over someone who is in the public eye was a different battle. It seemed as though everywhere you went, he’s there. You see him on billboards, TV screens, his face painted on murals, quickly becoming a tourist site. Occasionally, you would watch his games out of habit, and listen to the prideful Evertonian crowd chant his name. You witnessed his first England senior team debut, and tuned in to England v. Wales on the TV for old time’s sake. You watched him score his first senior England goal behind a screen. Your eyes welled at sight of him living his dream, poaching the ball into the net, scoring the first goal of the game, making his country and family proud. You feel the rush of adrenaline he felt as he ran to his teammates and celebrated. You can’t help but share this sense of pride, as you’ve watched firsthand how hard he has worked to get to where he is.

But on days where he isn’t on your mind, you do not want to be reminded of him. It’s difficult to cope when you encounter pieces of him that takes you back to the worst day of your life, and his.

Like last night, for instance. You had been scrolling on your social media when it was brought to your attention that a magazine had published an issue with your ex on the front cover, spotted on a night out with a blonde you don’t personally know but you could’ve sworn you’ve seen before. Perhaps another one of those so-called “influencers”, you thought to yourself. You know that you have no right to feel jealous or upset, as you broke up with him and this was bound to happen, but selfishly, a part of you had hoped that he wouldn’t find anyone else, or at least not before you did. You’re frustrated at yourself for letting him have this effect on you even months after your break up.

Succumbing to your bad habits, you give in to your impulses and pop open a bottle of red wine to calm your growing anxiety. Two glasses of wine, a takeout, and a season of Gossip Girl later, you find yourself slightly drunk, nerves calmed, and a little drowsy so you quickly change into your satin pyjamas and tuck yourself in bed.

You decide to turn on the TV for some background noise and quickly close your eyes. By some twist of fate, you hear a painfully familiar voice giving his thoughts at the end of a game he’s won. The sheer volume of his voice on the TV causes a sharp pain in your chest as you scramble to reach for your remote in the dark, with your eyes half opened. and change it to anything but a sports channel. That’s it, you thought to yourself. I need to get the fuck away.

Still drunk and not entirely aware of what you’re doing, you reach for your laptop on the nightstand. The brightness made your eyes squint a little bit, but you managed to type out a link and open a travel booking site, and scroll through different pictures of tropical islands you’re longing to get to. Anywhere but here, you thought. You selected options that you thought looked the blue-est, the most expensive, a party town, and had the most five star restaurants.

By the end of it you have booked a return flight to Mykonos for 5 people where you will be staying at a grand, luxurious 5-bedroom villa located at the party central of the island. You couldn’t be bothered to check how much it cost you. All sense of ration gets thrown out the window when you mix heartbreak with alcohol. When you told your friends of what you had just done, it was safe to say that they were surprised but absolutely ecstatic that you have booked a much needed getaway with the girls. With a three-day notice, you all quickly scramble through your closet and go on an online shopping spree to pick out your outfits for the holiday.

***

Days later, you find yourself landing on Mykonos island on a sunny afternoon.

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to pull all this off within days,” your friend says as you all walk through the pebbled entry way of your villa, and open the door. “Holy fucking shit,” another friend says in awe of the sight. The villa was filled with white interior, bright lights, wooden tables that give off beach vibes, and an infinity pool where you could swim as you watch the sunset, with a view of the blue sea. With 5 bedrooms to choose from, your friends collectively decided that you should take the master that had direct access to the pool, which you happily accepted but it wouldn’t matter anyway, as you’ll all probably stay in one room.

Once you’ve unpacked, you pull out your white cardigan and make your way out the terrace to catch a view of the sunset and have a moment by yourself. You take a deep breath of the fresh air with a hint of sea breeze as you try to take in the stunning view of the island. You are filled with gratitude as you bear witness to something so beautiful as you watch the sun sink into the blue Aegean Sea. Despite the peacefulness exuded by the view, your heart can’t help but feel Dom. You remember when he had brought up wanting to spend this exact summer in Mykonos with you, but life had other plans.

***flashback***

Dom was laying in bed with his laptop screen on his chest, an arm to support his head as he scrolled through the travel booking site. He had been looking through different options, but he has his mind set on a lovely town in Greece, Dubai’s overrated after all, he thought.

“Me, you, blue skies, tanned skin, bike rides around town, what do you think love?” asked Dom. “Where’s this?” you ask, moving closer to him as he shows you his laptop screen. “Mykonos. It’s not too far away, I’ll have enough time to rest before pre-season starts,” he replies. “That sounds like a plan,” you smile at him. “But we’ll book it closer to the summer, yeah? In case anything comes up,” you said as you plant a kiss on his cheek. He nods as he bookmarks the site and drifts off to sleep with you shortly after.

Unbeknownst to you, later that night he quietly opened his laptop and quickly booked the trip for you two as a surprise. Anything that will come in the way will just have to be compromised. He was adamant to make sure he gives you the best summer of your life, it is what you deserve after all, he thought.

***

You had forgotten about your conversation with Dom until you stood on the island. Your thoughts were interrupted by your friend’s footsteps. “Hey, you okay babe? You’ve been out here for a while,” she asks with concerned eyes. “I’m alright,” you said. “Or I will be,” you add, giving your friend a forced smile. Your friend wraps her arm around your shoulders as you two make it back inside to have an early and quiet night with the girls, exhausted from all the travel.

***

The next day you woke up a little late, with only several hours to tan before having to get ready for your dinner reservation at one of Mykonos’s famous restaurants that looks over the sea. A little frustrated at yourself for sleeping in, you went to the bathroom to wash your face, put on some light makeup, and change into your swimwear.

You join your friends who are sprawled on the sunbeds. “So, where is this place again?” you asked your friend who booked the dinner. “A restaurant by the sea located at party central babe. Everybody, I mean everybody goes here. They’ve got the best food and music,” she replies. “Think of Mamma Mia 1,” another friend chimes in. Your eyes widen at the imagery. “Better have some great alcohol too, I’m desperate for some,” you laugh. “That’s my girl,” your friend says.

***

By the late afternoon you and the girls are getting ready for dinner. Makeup bags and its contents sprawled on the floor, you had to tiptoe around makeup products and brushes, careful not to step on them. After long deliberation, you decided to dress up in co-ord that hugs your figure and fits you like a glove, paired with your favourite heels, settling for an elegant yet fun look. You decide to keep your hair down and put on some natural makeup to balance out the bold colour. After about 30 minutes of taking pictures of each other and some group photos, you finally made it out the door.

The location was spectacular. The ambience was complemented with bright lights to lighten the dim Mykonos sky that has turned a shade of dark blue, almost purple. The food was divine, a little overpriced for your liking, but it was worth it. The restaurant turns into a nightclub close to midnight, and you and your girls were eager to start your first round of drinks. Fruity drinks were passed around, made with fruits freshly picked from the gardens. Watermelon margarita was your drink of choice, partly sweet, partly sour, and just enough tequila as your first drink of the trip.

The restaurant was packed, you could’ve sworn you had seen a star of a Spanish series you’ve just finished watching on Netflix. The guests were well dressed, many had bravely eccentric taste, mixing patterns and sparkly jewellery, paired with funky footwear to add some flair. In Mykonos, you will not encounter the same judgment as you would walking down the streets back home.

Your friends stood up to dance the second the alcohol kicked in. You took your time, savouring your drink, wanting the night to last. You smile at the sight of your happy friends, so full of life, not giving a single care in the world. As you’re sitting there, observing people, you suddenly feel your chest get heavy. It’s hard to put into words what this feeling is like, but it pushes you to shut down in social settings, overwhelmed by strangers and loud music that makes your ears ring. It is a feeling of unexplained anxiety, where you need a second to correct your breathing, and calm yourself down. Not now, you thought, not here. You often feel these random bouts of emptiness since you left Dom. You try to push the discomfort away, and think of anything else but him. You stood up and walked to the edge of the restaurant by the white border wall to get some fresh air, and take in the view of calm waves under the night sky to collect some peace of mind.

You place your elbows on top of the border, and rest your head on the palms of your hands. A bystander would think that you’re a scene from a movie, a damsel in distress, longing for her love interest. But this was no movie, no fairytale, no knight in shining armour to protect you, no lover to sweep you off your feet.

Or so you thought.

Your focus on the sounds of splashing waves was interrupted by familiar footsteps, getting louder and louder as it creeps its way closer to you. The scent of the sea began to mix with an all too familiar scent of tobacco vanilla. Only one person came to mind. It can’t be, you thought.

“(Y/N)?,” his voice breaks.

It’s him.

[tchallasbabymama]

M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 3

Let me know if you want to be tagged, and make sure you check out my masterlist HERE for chapters 1& 2 and my other stories. 

Also, just so y’all know, the last scene has paraphrased lines from the movie (which you should definitely go watch if you haven’t yet.)

Enjoy!

Word count: 2392

___________________________________________________

The day of the open house was upon them and M’Baku was more than excited to get to work with Monae some more. The workday crept by and as soon as the clock struck 5 he hurried out of his office and down the two flights of stairs to the arts wing. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, but he followed the sound of drums coming from one of the rooms. He walked up to the door and peeked in, seeing Monae teaching a class full of children West African dance. He leaned up against the doorframe and took in her graceful form and mesmerizing hips. He could have stood there and watched her move forever until one of the kids turned and saw him off to the side.

“Hi Mr. M’Baku!”

Monae and the kids turned towards him and greeted him. Monae’s smile was the brightest in the room.

“Hello children, Miss Monae.”

She sent him a small wave as the children surrounded him, all talking at once and all wanting to show him their moves.

“Alright, kiddos, lets all show M’Baku what you’ve been working on before you get out of here, Ok?”

“Ok!” 

The drummers started back up and the kids started to dance, the looks on their little brown faces making Monae smile at their joy. She watched her students with pride as they finished the number and took their bows. She and M’Baku both erupted in applause.

“Very good, class! Ok y’all can go on home now. If you come to the open house make sure you stop by and say hi, Mr. M’Baku here is going to be my assistant for the evening.”

The kids grabbed their bags to head home, some of them stopping to hug Monae and M’Baku on the way out to their guardians. M’Baku was taken aback since he had not had enough experience around young children to know they have no concept of personal space. Monae laughed at the confused look on his face, a near permanent fixture he was becoming used to by being in this new land. He was just happy he could make her smile. 

After the last child ran out, almost tripping over her shoelaces, Monae introduced M’Baku to her drummers Kehinde and Rodney. They bonded for a bit before Rodney slid out of the way to let M’Baku play his drum.

Monae couldn’t help but move with the way he struck the beautifully made instrument.. Her feet and hips took on a life of their own and she let the beat carry her however it saw fit. M’Baku already thought her choreographed dances were beautiful, but this? Her natural movement called to him as he moved her body with each stroke of his hands. Neither one of them were sure how long they were going for, but Rodney had to clear his throat to break the trance.

“Hey so I uh, I gotta head out. Sorry to interrupt whatever that was.” He pointed between the two, obviously picking up on the chemistry.

“Yeah, no, y’all get outta here. It’s late anyway. See you tomorrow?” 

“Of course.”

“See ya Monae, byyyeeee M’Baku.” Rodney and Kehinde snickered as they left the room.

“So, what first?” M’Baku asked, still coming down from the high he just experienced with her.

“Woo, sorry, let me uh catch my breath real quick...you’re good.” She gestured towards the drum.

“So are you,” he gestured towards her body and she cracked a smile.

“I’m aware.” She walked around him to the other side of the room to start straightening up the space. He joined in and the room was spotless in minutes.

“So,” she clapped. “I figured since the kids love you so much you’d be great at keeping them busy while the adults talk to me. Nakia brought us a bunch of Wakandan children’s books, so how about you read to the kids? You have to do voices though, if you don’t do voices I’m putting you somewhere else.” She was dead serious.

“What kind of monster does not change their voice to read to children?” M’Baku asked incredulously.

Monae’s mind flashed to two years ago when she asked Derrick to do something similar at the after school program where she volunteered. He just read it straight like it was a speech, and the kids were restless. It was a nightmare.

“You would be surprised. Ok so take a look through these and see if any jump out at you,” she handed him the crate full of books and he thumbed through them.

“I do not see any Jabari books,” he pulled out a small notepad and began scribbling his thoughts down.

“You don’t use the beads like the others?” 

“I could, but it is unnecessary technology for the most part.”

Monae nodded, remembering that the Jabari preferred to live analog. 

“Let me run this by you real quick, and you tell me what you think,” Monae started as he turned to give her his full attention. “I have sooooo many Wakandan beads I need to get rid of, so how about I set up a jewelry station across the hall? Just some beads and string, nothing too fancy. Then over in the paint lab I was thinking of using these extra textile scraps and old magazines to make mixed media collages. For the last station I have like a million gourds for the kids to paint, and I figured they could do that next door. I have three volunteers set up at each station, so don’t worry, you’ll have help with the kids. I wouldn’t just throw you to the wolves like that.” She winked at him as M’Baku nodded along, processing everything she said.

“This is not my specialty, but that sounds like a good plan to me.”

“What is your specialty?”

“I am a man of many talents, as you can see, but I am a warrior above all else.”

Her cheeks felt hot as she tried to quiet the damsel in distress inside her brain. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.

“You mentioned that there aren’t any Jabari stories in here. You don’t have to use the books if you’d rather go off the cuff with it.”

M’Baku’s gap toothed smile shone through as his theatrical side woke up from its slumber. 

“You might regret that later.” 

______

The children loved M’Baku so much they barely touched the crafts Monae had set up for them. He regaled the kids, and the adults, with Jabari folktales about snowmen and giant gorillas and how the Jabari came to be.

“And then the Jabari left for the mountains. For centuries, the Jabari and the rest of Wakanda were angry at each other until-“

“Why?” interrupted a kid with his front two teeth missing.

“Well because the Jabari cared more for tradition and old ways, but the Wakandans wanted everything shiny and new. They argued so much they had to move away to keep the peace, and that is when Hanuman guided the Jabari to the mountains.”

“Who’s Hanuman?” asked a little girl with beaded cornrows.

“The god who guides and protects us.”

“My mama says theres only one god and his name ain’t Hanuman,” she responded with an attitude. Some of the parents and kids nodded along in agreement. 

“Well, you see, your mother is simply wrong-”

“Ok, that's enough for now. Let's give Mr. M’Baku a round of applause for storytime, huh?” Monae interrupted before things got too heated, and the crowd clapped for their griot. 

People wandered in and out of the room for the next couple hours, enjoying the crafts and M’Baku’s storytime. Monae kept everything running smoothly, including refilling M’Baku’s water bottle multiple times to keep his voice strong.  Shortly before closing time T’Challa wandered into the room and sat with the children listening to the same stories M’Baku had told so many times that night Monae could recite them herself. When it was over and the last guest had left the center all the staff and volunteers breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I think that went well!” M’Baku said, his voice hitching from overuse.

“Drink some more. Oh yeah, they absolutely loved you. You know T’Challa recorded your dramatics while he was here? You could win a Tony with that performance.” Monae gushed, proud of her, uh, friend. 

“Who?”

“It's an award for stage actors. I’ll make you a list like the one Captain America had.”

“What sort of list?”

“Of pop culture and historical things you should know. He spoke about it in an interview a few years ago and I thought ‘that’s brilliant, I’d do that too’ but I never had the chance...until now.”, her excitement was palpable. 

“That is a good idea, I will have to commend him on that the next time I see him.”

Monae froze.

“I’m sorry, you know Captain America?”

“Well yes, he and some other Avengers have been to Wakanda a couple times.”

Monae was speechless. She’d had a huge crush on Steve Rogers ever since he defrosted.

“I- what’s he like?” she asked, barely forming words.

M’Baku found her obvious fawning amusing and wondered if this is how she would look if she spoke about him to others. 

“He is nice,” M’Baku said before leaning in a little closer. “Especially for a colonizer.”

Monae cackled and they continued to straighten up the room. Once the area was sufficiently cleaned for the night, the two headed out to their cars. Monae yawned as they packed her little electric car full of art supplies.

“It seems it is past your bedti-” he was cut off by the sound of his stomach trying to climb out his body. “Well, then.”

They broke out into laughter, only subsiding when her stomach answered the mating call.

“Would you like to accompany me to dinner? It will be my treat. I was planning on going to The V Spot for some more jackfruit tacos.”

“Mmm, they have these vegan nachos that I would sell my arm for, but I’m so tired I’ll probably fall asleep on you. Next time?” she sent him an apologetic grin. 

“Next time it is, then.”

Monae turned to get into her car before stopping and turning back around to face him.

“You know what? I think I have one good hour left in me. Let’s meet there.”

_____

Both of them were too tired to speak, especially since M’Baku had done enough talking that night to warrant a week of silence. M’Baku paid for their food and they left, still in comfortable silence until reaching the sidewalk.

“Let me walk you home, you should not be out here by yourself.”

“M’Baku I can literally see my building from here.”

“And? Anything could happen between here and there. I would never forgive myself!”

The butterflies in her stomach were in full flight mode, and her face grew hot. She playfully rolled her eyes at him and turned away to mask her blushing face.

“Ok fine.” She said with faux reluctance. She wanted nothing more than to spend every moment she could with this man, but the ring weighing down her finger made it challenging. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, but Derrick is always out of town on business and she can feel the relationship slipping away. Even before M’Baku swooped in, her feelings for her fiance had started to dwindle. However, she did enjoy spending time with M’Baku and she figured there’d be no harm in taking the short stroll between The V Spot and her place.

“So, which direction?” M’Baku asked and Monae pointed to the right before they slowly took off down the street, arm in arm, in silence once again before Monae spoke up two minutes later.

“Well, this is me.” 

They both just stood there, not knowing how to end the night.

“I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?”

“Of course...I will say though, where I am from when you walk someone home from a date there is usually a goodnight kiss involved.”

She was stunned at his forwardness, and she could feel her pulse all over her body.

“But I guess this was not really a date, huh?”

“Um, n-no. M’Baku you know I’m engaged.” She said, looking down.

“Yes, but do you?” his eyes narrowed and he tilted his head as stepped closer to her. She didn’t move away, so he took another step forward so that their bodies were almost pressed together. 

“It was date-like.” she conceded.

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her in tight, closing the tiny gap of space left between the two of them. Her hands found their way to his chest and his other hand came up to tilt her chin upwards before he placed a light kiss on her lips and let her go. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked over his face. She took in his prominent brow and his strong jaw, his pillowy lips and his soft eyes. He was a giant wall of a man and she couldn’t get enough of how he felt up against her, 

“That’s it?” she teased before pulling him back and making him lean down into a deeper kiss. His hands rested respectfully at the small of her back despite his desire to explore her body more, and hers rested around his neck for the same reason. They broke away quickly when the door of the apartment building opened and an older man walked out with his dog, undoubtedly to go on a nighttime walk around the neighborhood before retiring for the night. He looked at them and shook his head before mumbling something under his breath about heathens. 

They looked back at each other and broke out laughing. 

“You should go,” Monae said softly while fiddling with his collar.

“I do not want to,” he whispered.

“I know, but-”

“You are engaged. I know,” he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Goodnight Monae.”

“Goodnight M’Baku, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He waited for her to get inside before turning around and heading back the way they came to make the short journey to his temporary home. The entire walk back, he hummed along to an unwritten love song in his head with a goofy smile on his face. He could still taste her and, by Hanuman, he wanted more.

Next Chapter

[bruh-haikyuu]

A/N: Timeskip Lev make me go BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF AAARF ARF. P.S: For double the experience, read while listening to this

diapason. | haiba lev

summary: in which lev meets you again and you develop some sort of warm reconnection with your past underclassman. (Continuation of this fic)

word count: 4402

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(n.) a full, rich outpouring of melodious sound

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

The Danube Canal in mid-winter reminds you of a lot of things:

The Shakujii River flanked with its timeless parade of cherry blossom trees. Christmas celebrations spent at home with your family, popping bottles of soda and whining about misshapen gifts. Your piano recitals played in utter devotion, like the winter would never end.

You’re a long, long way away from home, and you start to hope if anyone is missing you. If there’s a hole in your figure carved into someone’s heart back in Japan or some place in the other side of the world—

What am I thinking... you sigh, bashfully urging yourself to keep on walking.

Nestling deeper into the warmth of your wool scarf, you wonder if it’s the cold ambience of the night that’s making you feel all sappy. Twinkling lights, murmured chatter from late-night cafés, the occasional gust of wind against your cheeks. You never thought you’d get so nostalgic on your “vacation”, but perhaps you’re just like any other hopeless romantic.

“Come to Vienna! A whirlwind of budding love!”

You’d read that advertisement in one of the catalogues your symphony’s personnel manager had excitedly dumped into your lap the day she announced your personal invitation to spectate the Vienna Philharmonic live a few weeks ago. You didn’t think much of the slogan, but even so... you have to admit you’re a tad bit lonely, aren’t you?

You can barely remember a moment where you didn’t feel lonely. You had your family at home, but you’d considered it your fault for being such a shut-in for the most part of your life. The neighborhood kids weren’t exactly the nicest people. And school life hadn’t been much of an improvement either.

Of course, until him.

A colossal first year stumbling into the desolate Orchestra Club room, with a mouth just as big as his stature. Haiba Lev who had been anxiously lost that day you’d met. With such little sense of direction, you can’t help but laugh at how much times he’d managed to find you in that maze of your high school.

He’d find you, talk to you, laugh with you. And you’d never felt all the rushing feelings you’d felt when you were with this dewy-eyed boy. He was the perfect image of confidence—radiant, ambitious and all the more charming.

If only you can thank him. Your hero of sorts. Haiba Lev who poured into you all the faith he had so you could move forward—

“A-ah, excuse me?”

Whipping your head into the direction of the choppy English, a seething blush rises onto your cheeks when you zero in to the large camera lens pointed right at you.

The bearded man speaks again. “Eh... you’re Japanese, aren’t you? Sorry, but we’re having a photoshoot right now, and you’re in the way of our model. Could you maybe...”

Oh dear, you frazzle. Prostrating yourself incessantly at the camera crew, you blunder. “I’m v-very sorry! Waah, I must’ve ruined your picture!”

“It’s fine,” the man smiles kindly. “Things like this often happen anyway. Ain’t that right, Hafu-sama?”

The lean figure behind you laughs, and for a second, you feel your chest flutter in your throat when you hear him. “Yep! Don’t worry about it, Miss—”

You really wish you hadn’t turned around because the moment your eyes locked with a pair of emeralds, you swear that your heart leapt out of your chest. All feeling of chilliness lamented, you feel red heat stretching out across your skin.

“H-Haiba-kun?!”

Unable to keep your footing steady, a stagnant lump rises in your throat when the familiar man grins at you with galaxies in his eyes.

“Fairy-senpai!!”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. October 2012.

“Senpai!”

Footsteps echoing down the corridor, a wave of frightened third years part to let the gigantic creature of a first year through. Haiba Lev, age 16, is excited. Haiba Lev, 194.3 centimeters tall, is burning with so much resolve that he pays no heed to the Discipline Committee member who is resentfully yelling at him to “stop running in the hallways, you hoodlum!”

But who could blame him?

When you turn around and jolt in surprise, Lev drowns in the tiny fairies that flutter in his chest.

“Haiba-kun? What are you doing here?” you take a moment to register his full presence—considering his substantial size, Lev would probably understand your current disposition.

Finally, you whisper in a low tone, highly aware of the crowd that’s pivoting towards your conversation. “... Did you get lost again?”

“Of course not!” Lev replies rather gruffly. “I wanted to look for you to give you this so I can thank you for when I got lost.”

Thrusting a daintily wrapped bento towards you, the tall boy is rather unabashed about the entire situation—lace cloth and all. There’s a fragrant steam seeping out from the gaps of the box, spooling and wafting (and you think your ears pick up the noise of someone’s rumbling stomach).

You’d thought of spending your lunch alone in your club room, or maybe even the rooftop if you were up for it... like the usual. But the moment Lev starts talking again, you completely forget the idea as a whole.

Innocently grinning, he asks, “Do you want to eat lunch together, L/N-senpai?”

How could you say no?

And thus, here you are in the courtyard with a titan first-year who is nearly twice your size, jovially chattering about as you quietly eat your lunch.

When was the last time you ate something so cute? Your parents stopped making you character bentos since you got into middle school (“Aah... sorry, Y/N. Dad’s hands aren’t as artistic as they used to be,” your father had told you that day, an utter look of guilt dancing across his face). You weren’t too confident in your own skills either, so bentos with endearing faces and shaped cut-outs of vegetables were simply a fragmented piece of the past.

First-years today are so talented, you think, shoveling down your meal in sheer politeness. “This is delicious, Haiba-kun! The chicken is so tender and the rice is so well-seasoned! I wish I had your sense for cooking...”

“My sister made it, actually. I tried to help her cut the eggs, but it ended up being a mess and she told me to just sit and wait in the dining room,” he replies sheepishly, a bubble of laughter slipping from between his lips. “I’m glad you like it though, Senpai! Just wait ‘til my sister hears about your reaction!”

“Does your sister always make your lunches for you?” you ask, curiosity subduing your reserve.

Lev takes a moment to swallow the lump of rice in his mouth.

“Mm, sometimes. If she’s not having a lecture in the morning, she’ll make breakfast. Otherwise, the teriyaki set at the cafeteria is just as good!”

Cafeteria. You shiver. That hellhole of shoving and scrambling and incessant talking... You’re thankful the school had decided to set up a few more vending machines close to campus when you entered your second year.

And then you think of Lev. With that extreme height and intimidating presence, he wouldn’t have to put his foot on the line every time he wanted melon bread, right? And he is definitely the type of person to be able to talk to the loud cafeteria lady without dropping his change.

Confidence. Recklessness. Bliss. All the prime features you wanted, right in front of you—and yet...

“Hey, L/N-senpai?” you snap awake from your thoughts. A dash of concern flashes over your underclassman’s features before he repeats his muted question. “Can I have one of your sausages?”

Peering down at the cluster of uneaten octopus sausages, you quickly nod, face reddening once you realize how close Lev is breathing near you. “G-Go ahead.”

Chirping out a “thank you for the food!”, the silver-haired boy swoops down on a miniature octopus, a sound of immense satisfaction humming in his chest. He’s like a child, you laugh to yourself. A young boy with no sense of care of the world, no concern of what’s going to happen to him unless he really does it.

Leaning back on the bench, you sigh, a smile dawning on your face. “You didn’t have to force yourself to eat lunch with me, you know. I usually eat by myself anyway.”

You’re being apologetic again. You want to punch yourself for even thinking of it. But your habit precedes your intentions, and you can already feel the mood turn sour—

“Why not though?”

Looking up at him incredulously, you can barely string together a coherent response before Lev pipes up again.

“Isn’t food always best when eaten together?”

How pretentious.

There are already valleys of flowers blooming in your stomach at his innocent reply. The same kind that sprouted the day he’d burst into your private practice room. You really hoped you wouldn’t get ahead of yourself anymore. Not with the risks that it carried. But this guileless first year was a much more difficult case than you’d imagined, and thus the flowers go into full blossom.

You smile, the faint blush on Lev’s cheeks going unnoticed. “Yeah. We should eat together more often.”

And so you did. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. The passage of time a trivial shadow beneath your budding happiness.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

“You work in a symphony?! Senpai’s job is super cool!”

Under the amber light of the cafe’s chandelier, you can’t help but feel a certain déjà vu at your current situation. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re having tea with your high school underclassman, or maybe it’s simply the residue of your more recent wistful thinking.

Yet again, it still hasn’t registered into your mind how you’d miraculously manifested Lev into proximity just from your sheer yearning... You kind of feel selfish.

“It’s just a freelance job though, it’s probably not as impressive as being a model,” you say.

Lev crosses his arms huffily, and you worry if you’ve started to offend him. Until he opens his mouth again. “Modelling is suuuper embarassing. Sometimes, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that ‘that’s my face!’ or ‘I made that pose with that other model’. The agency’s really harsh on the way I dress too—I mean, what’s wrong with wearing a shirt that says ‘HERBIVORE’ to go to Lawson’s?”

You stifle a giggle as he rambles on about “the time I had to cross-dress as a woman because the female model quit on the day of the shoot”. For someone who had grown up to be a lean, rather attractive figure, you can’t shake your head away from the thought that the 16-year old Haiba Lev is still stuck inside the body of a corporate slave. There’s a sense of relief that accompanies the feeling, and memories of your high school days slowly come into picture—

“One black tea and a latte for the lovely couple?” a kind-looking waiter gently sidles in between you, cutting Lev off from his rant, and you from your reflection.

Turning a vivid shade of crimson, you stutter, “O-oh... we are not—”

“Thank you,” Lev grins dashingly, enough to make your heart race and a few passers-by to stop in their tracks.

Once the waiter retreats back into the pantry, the man across you slowly leans forward to whisper endearingly. “My sister wants me to practice my English while I’m abroad. You think I got my message across, Senpai?”

“You did well, Haiba-kun.” There are a lot of things you want to ask him really. If he really knew the meaning behind the waiter’s sentence. Or if he realized he’d nearly pronounced ‘you’ with an extra ‘th’.

... Or why he’s pouring in a mound of sugar into your cup of tea.

“H-Haiba-kun, that order’s mine...”

“Hm? Yeah, I know,” he mutters, the soft clinking of the spoon against glass echoing in your head. “You like your stuff really sweet, right? Man, I used to be really worried the first few times we had tea together.”

That’s right, you gulp. The endless hours you’d spent together in the Orchestra Club room... he really did learn a lot of things about you that time, didn’t he? Although you had merely been friends, Lev had grown on you, as if he’d always been there from the start. And you wonder: what else does he remember about you?

“Ah, by the way,” Lev starts. “Are you still thinking about setting up that music store you wanted?”

“Of course,” you mumble. It was only a naïve dream was what you meant to say, but in the presence of such a captivating man, all the gears in your head seemed to... dislocate.

Lev smiles a simple smile. Boyish at best, but still enough to enrapture you into his lingering gaze.

“I’m glad.... I’m glad you haven’t given up. You know, the old L/N-senpai would’ve called it quits because you thought you weren’t good enough. But look at you now! Soon enough, you’ll be off to teach music to the world.”

Your heart is already doubling in size at his words. Any more and you’d probably explode... You’d lost it. You’ve lost all the capability to keep your heart in control, and now you are smiling like a maniac in front of the last person you wanted to see in this state.

But he only laughs. Youthful and full of color. Unchanging from all those years ago.

“Wahahaha! You finally smiled! We should celebrate, you know. Just a small holiday from all that hard work. Say... are you still going to be in Vienna in the weekend?”

“I’m free on those days. But what’s all this about?”

Hiding his bashful smirk behind his cup of coffee, Lev murmurs. “We have some catching up to do, don’t we—Uwaah! Hot!”

Unchanging indeed, you shake your head, calling over the waiter for an extra set of napkins.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. February 2013.

There is a tea party set stashed between the two cardboard boxes filled with sheet music and spare melodicas. They’ve been left behind by your graduated seniors, who insisted that tea, “as the prime component to a good host”, was to be kept in the club room at all times, case there were any visiting guests.

...Of course, such things never happened. And you always ended up drinking the tea by yourselves. But even with the departure of your beloved seniors, you can never shake off the habit of drinking and restocking the supplies whenever required.

So you wonder if you should really be thanking your tea-loving upperclassmen for the free beverages.

“That’s a lot of sugar!” Lev gasps in awe, the emeralds in his eyes twisting and shining with the cascade of crystals falling into your cup of tea. “I bet you have a lot of cavities in your mouth, Senpai.”

“I brush my teeth very well so I don’t think anything like that’s every happened to me,” you say, irritably trying to ignore the tactless comment from your starry-eyed underclassman. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in my club room, hasn’t it? I’m glad you didn’t get lost trying to get here.”

He grumbles, crossing his arms in faux-anger. “Geez! I won’t get lost like that so easily! Besides...”

Lev takes a moment to drink in the warmth of the club room’s solace. The grand piano in the corner. The orange light streaming through the open curtains. Your curious face, like something out of a fairytale book.

“This place is full of good memories, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever forget something like that.”

You chuckle at his monologue. “You sound like my grandfather, Haiba-kun.”

Lev’s face warps into something reminiscent of a prune.

“Senpai, we’re only two years apart!” he fumes. “You didn’t invite me here just to crush my self-esteem, right?! C-Come on, aren’t you going to show me the audition piece you wanted me to hear?”

There is a burning urge inside of you that’s telling you to “pull at his leg just a little more...”, but nevertheless, the artist within you says to keep your audience at bay. And so, the curtains open and your fingers dance on familiar keys.

You’ve played for him before. Songs like ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ or ‘Ma Mère L’oye’. Songs that you love, much like the one you’re performing for him right now. But you’re shaking in your seat. Wondering, anticipating, fearing.

He’s staring so much, you bite your lip, trying to avert your focus from Lev’s unbreakable gaze.

A single spectator wracks your brain even more than a theatre full of different kinds people—enthusiasts, university scouts, onlookers. But in your dismal, little club room, there is only your underclassman. Someone who knows nothing of music, but lacks so much knowledge that you know any of his critique would come from honesty alone.

...Why do you care so much about one person’s opinion?

You don’t realize how long you’ve been pondering until your train of thought is abruptly thwarted by the end of your song. You finish on a satisfying note and your endearing onlooker suddenly springs on his feet to shower you in applause.

“What the heck—that was so cool! I’ve never seen anyone play like that before!” Lev stumbles, everything and anything he’d planned to say pouring out as a blubbering mess as your face grows hotter from the attention. “Senpai, you’ll definitely pass the audition if you play just like that.”

“Y-You really think so?” he’s probably just being nice, you think. But for a spare moment, could you simply imagine that he means every word?

“I know so!” he smiles, the palpitations in your chest growing intense by the second. “You just have to keep going, won’t you?”

Even if you’re not brave enough to believe it, you want to believe that there’s a single Haiba Lev in this unyielding universe who believes that you, a mere side character who wishes for more, can and will.

You feel invincible.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

Did you know that swans mate for life? As a symbol of love and affection, they’re widely known to curve their necks together in a shape of a heart when courting. A form of elegance at its finest... until they start hissing.

“They’re so big! Senpai, come take a look at the swans!”

Folding the brochure into a tiny square, you return to your companion’s side, peering over the railings of the bridge to catch a glimpse of the thrush of white feathers down below.

You gulp. They are much larger than you expected.

“They’re surprisingly loud, aren’t they?” you mutter, watching a cygnet waddle its way out of the water onto the banks of the canal. You didn’t want to say, but it slightly reminded you of Lev the first time he’d waddled his way into the the Orchestra Club room.

With the constant squawking of the swans, the both of you find yourself in silence. For you, at least, the past two days viewing all sorts of Austrian sights with Lev had been strangely more gratifying than you’d fathomed. Lev, who’d been as excitable as he’d always been, breathes in peace, plumes of white forming from his mouth.

“This weekend’s been nice, hasn’t it?” you break the silence, observing the smooth junctures of his face. Lev turns to you slowly, his voice squeezing out.

“Don’t say that.”

Your blood freezes. “What?”

“Saying things like that...” Lev sighs wilfully and turns back to the view of the canal. He frowns. “I don’t want to think that this weekend is going to be over soon.”

You want to cry out. Me too. Me too, me too, me too. Your entire body is so full of butterflies you want to double over and pass out. But he continues.

“Travelling and talking with you is so fun, I never want it to end... It’s kind of embarrassing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “D-Do you think so too? Am I a selfish person for thinking that?”

You shake your head. “It’s not embarrassing, Haiba-kun. I—”

Are you red? Are you blushing? Your face feels so hot, you can’t even finish your sentence. He’s so close. So close to you. You want to be reliable, you want to reply, but you can’t. Under his bewitching gaze, you’ve fallen so deep.

When Lev opens his mouth again, it’s like everything around you—the bridge, the people, the swans have entirely vanished. “L/N-senpai, c-can I tell you something? Something I wanted to tell you for a long time.”

Eh?

“I’ve always liked you, Senpai. I really, really like you.”

Blank. Your mind goes blank, even when you whisper a small, “Really?”

You’re happy, you’re so happy you want to jump and shout to the world that you love him. Awfully. Dearly. It’s all like a train had crashed into you headfirst, and you can’t settle on a proper response before the floodgates burst open.

“Wh-Whoa! Don’t cry!” he flails his arms in panic as more tears dribble down your cheeks. “Geez, Senpai, at least reply to me first...”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you laugh, wiping your eyes with the edges of your scarf. “I’m just so happy, I didn’t know how to react.”

Lev’s chest inflates for a moment before he lunges forward to encapsulate you in his embrace. Between the persistent layers of clothing, the beating of his heart resonates deeply against your face. It’s quick and lively, warm enough to remind you of the swirled feelings that you harbor for one another.

“Oh, thank god...” Lev grins, burying his face in your shoulder. “You feel the same way...”

Humming calmly into his ear, you revel in the closure. “I really, really like you too, Haiba-kun.”

And none of you lets go—save for when a swan makes its way up to the bridge to peck at Lev’s boots.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. March 2023.

“... Lev, wake up.”

Feeling a slight nudge on his cheek, Lev tethers over opening his eyes to wonder at your beautiful smile or bury his face even deeper into the sheets.

It’s not like he didn’t favor you, but as of now, the comforts of your shared bed was more important. And thus, Haiba Lev, age 26, shrouds himself under the plush duvet and focuses himself on the sweet dream he was having about you.

“Lev, I know you can hear me...” he hears you sigh, long and airy, just enough to lull him back to sleep. “You have a fitting today, don’t you? You’re going to trouble Matsuyo-san and Alisa-nee if you arrive late.”

Isn’t that on Thursday? Actually... what day is it today? He isn’t very good with dates and formalities—that’s why he considers himself lucky to have you! A cute lover to bring him back to land during the day, and to shower with love and to cuddle with during the evening.

Yawning widely, Lev owlishly wrenches his eyes open, the crystalline sunlight from the bedroom window illuminating your face like a halo.... and was that his shirt you were wearing?

Lucky me~ he grins goofily.

Pressing his lips together, Lev pulls you by the wrist and before you can avoid the sudden attack, you’ve collapsed once more into a tangled mess of limbs and crooked sheets, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Let’s just stay in bed today, Y/N-san~” he slurs, nuzzling closer to you. How catlike, you think. “I want to be lovey-dovey and kissy-kissy again...”

He yawns again, a few stray tresses of silver falling over his face. As if he wasn’t as attractive every hour of the day, you really have learned how to take control of your extreme heart palpitations around him.

Your adorable younger boyfriend, ah... he really is your weakness, isn’t he?

“I’m really sorry, but I have to open up the shop soon,” you reluctantly peel yourself away from him, eliciting a small whimper from the Leviathan in your bed. “I’ll make it up to you when I finish teaching my evening lessons and when you come home, okay?”

Stubborn as a goat, Lev grumbles. “I’ll come back early, you know. Can you not do your evening lessons today?”

“Hm? Why not?” your raised eyebrow is cynical, but is juxtaposed by the gentle strokes of your palm on the crown of his head.

As much as Lev loves you (he does, he really does!), it’s rather annoying when he can’t tell if you’re seriously being oblivious or simply teasing him. He hopes for neither, but in his case, you’re an addict to his gags and without a doubt, you’re definitely messing with him right now.

“Those damn brats... I don’t like the way they stare you up during your classes.”

You laugh, raucously. And Lev considers leaving you to catch a break from the constant jeering. When you finally pipe down, you shift closer to him and press your head onto his bare chest.

“Lev, they’re nine. How else are they going to learn to play if they don’t watch me do it first?” you chuckle. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me. You should be worrying about that fitting you have in a few hours.”

“Geez, fine,” he groans. “A kiss before I shower?”

You know exactly where this is going. “Just one.”

Lighting up like a Christmas tree, Lev makes quick work of his hands and tenderly cup your cheek before placing a timid kiss on your lips.

No morning breath, you notice. As expected of a professional model.

“One more...” he whispers, swooping down on your lips once again.

Two, three and maybe seven kisses later, Lev has you caged between his arms, his looming figure propped proudly over you as he continues to pepper you with affection. The moment he starts to lap up your bottom lip, you know you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

“It’s so early, Y/N-san,” he mumbles, pleading eyes making your heart turn to jelly. “We have a few more hours before we really have to go, don’t we? So... in the meantime...?”

Sighing, you can only turn a deep red—he really has you around his finger, doesn’t he? Oh well. You suppose it won’t hurt to push back your morning lessons for a few minutes, right?

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part VII

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 4k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

It took me far too long to recover from the discovery I’d made deep beneath the foundation of the Sheikah estate. Who knew how many more had been forced to suffer at the hands of the Yiga over the course of that period? It was high time to end this era of tyranny and grief, and to have anyone but myself take the lead was not an option. Whatever truth was waiting for me at the end of all this, so be it. I had to see it with my own two eyes. I had to see her.

To help set my plan into motion, the only person I had left to turn to was Prosecutor Sigatur, and though she had once held my mother in the utmost respect, she had benevolently volunteered to present my findings to the courts in my stead. As confident as I was in my argument and as desperately as I desired to be there for Link, I couldn’t quite stomach the thought of taking the stand and exposing myself to the discrimination of the public eye again.

And so, as the proceedings went on for the following few days, I spent my time back at the apartment, making myself useful by poring through my mountainous collection of data on the eighteen-year-old incident that I’d amassed over the years and had been keeping in my office until now. Now that I had been let go, my flat was practically overflowing with newspaper clippings, copies of investigation reports, and whatever else not. Every time I would open the door upon arriving home, I’d get hit in the face with the musty stench of dust and old magazines that I had nowhere to properly put away.

Though my collection was indeed vast, it was far more so in physical volume than in information. Most of the documents in it were no more than different accounts of the same basic facts. All the useful info I could glean was that the fire at City Hall had taken the lives of most, if not all, administrative officials who had been there working at the time, and those members of council who may or may not have been killed had never been seen nor heard from again, their bodies left for ash. And according to my sources, Mayor Hyrule had been amongst them.

There was a certain line in her letter to Auntie Impa that had tipped me off to her current whereabouts. “...I have been keeping watch over you from the ashes of the afterlife...” The imagery laced so intricately into those words had struck a nerve. There was only one place in this town that both would’ve been of any significance to her and was covered in ash: the crumbling ruins where the former City Hall had once stood.

Having reached the point of culmination in my plotting, I invited the newly reinstated Constable Fyori over for tea. The two of us meeting in my office would have been preferable, but we’d just have to make do with this for the time being.

“If my hypothesis is correct, then I am about to enter the belly of the beast,” I deliberated. Seated on my settee and restlessly tapping the floor with his heel, Link listened with both eyes and ears as I paced about the room. “Ideally, I’d have some sort of backup at my disposal. Maybe I could phone Urbosa and ask her to lend me a hand, just once more...”

“If I may,” he butted in, “why are you speaking as though you’ll be on your own?”

I hadn’t been nearly as prepared as I probably should have been for such a question. “Well...” I stammered, forcing the shame of admitting that I was too afraid to confront my own mother alone down my throat, “would you happen to know someone who’d be willing to accompany me?”

His mouth gaped at my answer. Then jutting his neck out and laying his palms across his chest, he stood up. “Me!”

I took a step back. “Link, what are you talking about?” If something happened to him as a result of this, which was more likely to occur than not, then his last moments would surely be filled with nothing but fear and regret. Not to mention, I would never forgive myself. “I really shouldn’t have to remind you. She’s the reason your family—”

“I know,” he snapped. His eyes were burning a hole straight through me. It was almost frightening. “Believe me, I’m not about to go forgetting it again any time soon.”

“Then why...?” I half-whispered in the most deathly serious tone I could muster.

“Because I’m tired of hiding.”

A harsh breeze rattled the blinds against the window frame. It took me by surprise, but he wasn’t phased by it in the least.

“I’m tired of turning a blind eye and acting like none of the horrible things she’s done ever happened.” I tried to think of a snappy rebuttal, but none came to mind. He’d said these words as though they’d been burning on the tip of his tongue for an untold number of days. He’d had a lot of time to reflect between his false conviction and his acquittal, so it seemed. He and I were of the same mind, of course, but... “And, because...” He stopped himself. Some of the fire in his gaze had gone out in smoke. I got my hopes up when he broke eye contact for a moment or two, and I could all but sense the resolve in him dying, just a little bit.

But then, emitting a slight sound of frustration, he stepped closer. His hands gripped my shoulders, and he pulled me in with the force of a hurricane.

When his lips made impact with mine, my eyes flew open.

He kissed me with what could only be described as reckless abandon. His mouth scraped across my own, and I could feel every ounce of his aggravation in the way his fingertips bit down on my skin alone. It was rough and clumsy and pressed, as if this were sincerely the last and only chance he would ever have.

All of a sudden, we were seventeen again, and standing in the middle of our secondary school’s greenhouse. The scent of dust was replaced with that of lush flora on all sides of us, and sunlight shining in from above caressed the top of my head with its warmth. This was the very scene that I’d used to daydream about time and time again, wasting more hours of each day than I’d have liked to admit at the time.

Now his fingers clung to the corners of my face like I was made of paper, his lips brushing mine almost imperceptibly as his bated breath fanned out against them. When my eyes opened and met with his, his complexion had turned a delicate rouge, and his faultless aquamarines had been clouded over by doubt. In that moment, all I could think to do was to make that doubt vanish. So I ignored the distant sense of guilt that yet lingered and seized the navy blue tie around his neck. Our forms collided, and a sigh like trees swaying at the mercy of a light breeze in summer grazed my cheek.

With Ms. Sigatur’s aid, the constabulary had been more than willing to cooperate and construct a perimeter of officers around the old City Hall’s charred skeleton. Just the fact that the vicinity wasn’t littered in tarps and rubbish and other evidence of homelessness was proof enough of my theory. And yet, the way the wind howled and that the only signs of life were the crows circling up above filled the pit of my stomach with an unease that I could not ignore.

“You know what to do as soon as you sense any sign of danger, I trust?” Urbosa had both her hands planted firmly on my shoulders, bending down to meet my gaze with that same, old look of worry.

I gave a firm nod, never breaking eye contact. “Of course.”

“And you have Fyori and the others looking out for you, so don’t be afraid to call for them if—”

“I’ll be fine, Urbosa. I—”

“No, you will not.”

All I wanted was to get this over with, but she just had to go and remind me of the risks. No matter what I wished for, it wouldn’t change the fact that this was, in all likelihood, a suicide mission. Which was why I’d been so adamant in refusing to allow Link to come along initially.

Said constable was watching the two of us out of the corner of his eye, ever the vigilante as he stood facing the stronghold a mere half dozen paces away.

I heaved a constricted sigh and looked the prosecutor earnestly in the eye. With a deep breath, “I understand how worried you are for me, but please, don’t try to stop me. I’m aware of the risk and I’m prepared to face the consequences. I wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t confident in my ability to succeed.”

Her stance softened, if only just slightly. “If Hilda weren’t still alive, her spirit would haunt me for letting any harm come to you.”

“But that won’t happen, because she is alive and she would never try to hurt me.” This much I was certain of, for if she had harboured any such intentions, she would have acted on them already, with how the Organization typically operated.

Urbosa’s lips tightened, and the out of place worry lines permeating her expression faded incrementally. She cast her gaze toward my stubborn guardian in silence, and he offered her a calm, yet resolute, nod of the head.

After a quiet embrace that seemed to go on endlessly, she sent me on my way. I looked over my shoulder as she grew smaller and smaller, then turned my focus ahead of me.

Staring up at the towering columns before me, I fell into an unnatural combination of wonder, nostalgia, and loss. (For whom or what was I still mourning? At this point, I didn’t even know the answer to that.) For the most part, the only parts of the building left standing were those invulnerable to fire, and even a great portion of that had fallen victim to weathering and decay over the years. Many of the brick walls had crumbled, leaving little in the way of places to hide a single person, let alone an entire crime syndicate.

The wind was unrelenting as it whipped and thrashed my hair about my face. Yet somehow, even as we drew nearer, the air remained as deathly still as ever.

As we finally came upon the scorched remnants of the main entrance, a gust from the north sent a whirlwind of ash in my direction. My arms rose to shield my face in the nick of time.

After taking a moment to collect myself, I took my first step since childhood into the domain of my mother’s workplace. Surely when I crossed that threshold, I’d thought, surely that was when havoc would finally be wrought upon us. But I was met yet again with stillness. Was nothing but my own breathing able to break this seemingly impenetrable silence?

Just then, my question was answered.

I felt my soul jump out of the confines of my body when the caw of a crow reverberated throughout the government building. If my heart hadn’t been pounding hard enough already...

I jumped again seconds later, though not nearly to the extent at which I just had, when Link’s hand came to weave itself between my fingers. We locked eyes, and he gave me the kindest of smiles. It made me want to melt right into his arms and to never let go, lest I lose him a third, and very likely final, time.

But a clearing of the throat from one of the other nearby constables reminded me of the ever present need to stay alert.

I elected to have the group split into two: one to search the ground floor of the ruins and one to search the upper floor. It was hard to say for certain how stable they were, but the stairways connecting the two stories were still almost fully intact. The upper floor itself, however, was another matter. Though its foundation hadn’t been constructed from any organic material, much of its structural integrity seemed to have been lost. About a third of it had broken off and landed square in the middle of the ground floor, leaving a vast chasm between the two sections of the upper floor that remained. The police had come prepared and equipped for the traversal of rough and uneven terrain, though there was still the danger of stray pieces of rubble raining down onto our heads from above.

I adjusted the strap of my helmet, which was beginning to chafe at the skin underneath my chin, before making my way around the monstrous hunk of brick flooring lying along the length of the grand foyer. Beyond that, as I’d remembered correctly, was the hallway leading to where her office had once been. But the scene I would discover there was a far cry from what I recalled.

What I found there wasn’t unlike what we’d found in the other offices up until now. Any furniture that had once filled the space had been destroyed. I could only just make out the contorted pieces of an old, blackened writing desk, its legs collapsed and the only thing relaying the tale of its former shape being the lamp lying shattered beside it. This I’d only noticed after hearing the crackling of shattered glass underfoot.

A clipped, nasal exhale sounded from behind me, where Link was taking in the scene with an expression similar to my own set into his face. He’d been clinging to my side since we’d begun searching, whether out of a desire to protect or to be protected, I did not know. A question rang in my ears that he’d posed to me during our meeting at my flat. “What will you do once you find her?” It was a simple question, one that I reasonably should have been able to answer, but the only one that came to mind would have sounded beyond foolish if said aloud. In the midst of such an era of power, what crime boss in their right mind would be swayed by a meagre plea to stop? But if not try to reason with her, there wouldn’t be many other options at my disposal.

This supposition only applied given that my mother would be found. My inspections so far had yielded no signs of Yiga activity, or for that matter, any activity whatsoever. Everything here seemed to have been here since the very incident that had levelled the place. In a way, this only added onto my already existing restlessness. The longer this search went on in vain, the less likely we were to find anything of worth, and the more likely it was for this endeavour to end in yet another failure. The moment I would finally give into my fear and call off the mission was steadily approaching.

A shadow flickered in my peripheral vision, followed by auditory pandemonium.

I just barely withheld my yelp. Link had turned toward the source of the sound with his hand on his holster.

But it had only been a piece of debris coming down from the floor above. I sighed furtively.

Between how Link’s shoulders had tensed up to meet his ears and the way his hand twitched as he lowered it from his hip, it was plain to see that I wasn’t the only one who was shaken up.

There was one more area of the ground floor that I had left to search: the conference hall. If the Yiga were anywhere to be found across these vast burial grounds, it was there.

What was left of the wood flooring creaked underfoot at a much greater volume than I’d been expecting. The ceiling, though just as high as that of the rest of this floor, somehow felt even loftier. Out of all the rooms we’d visited, this one was the most intact. Half of the risers, though scorched, were otherwise undamaged, and even the podium was still standing tall. But of course, being more intact meant giving sharpshooters more places to hide. One misstep and—

Crack

The floor fell out from beneath me. I let out a shriek, feeling the realm of death open its big, black maw and swallow me whole.

Then I landed with a calamitus crash.

If I hadn’t managed to curl my limbs around myself in time, the concrete flooring I seemed to have landed on surely would’ve cracked my head open, or given me a severe concussion at the very least. My whole body ached from the impact, and it felt as though I may have sprained my ankle, for when I tried to stand, it throbbed in the most violent pain I had ever experienced. I fell to my hands and knees, reeling.

The spot in the floor that I’d placed my weight on must have lost much of its hardiness to the fire. In all the times I’d been here as a little girl, it had never once occurred to me that this place had housed a basement.

“Zelda...!”

I looked up to see Link peering down from the hole in the ceiling that I’d made, his expression poised with worry. My body, covered in scrapes and bruises, cringed when I realized he had borne witness to that pathetic spectacle, making the pain tenfold.

“I’m fine,” I whisper-shouted up toward the only source of light in the room, and some of the fear in his face relaxed. He glanced around him, then looked back down in my direction before standing up and disappearing.

I could only hope he’d find his way down sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I shifted into a position I hoped I’d have more luck rising back to standing from, and I did. Though, maimed as I was, I’d still have to find some way to take some of the weight off my right foot.

The first thing I latched onto was rusty and sharp. I winced and pulled my hand back, looking blindly to see if my palm was bleeding or not.

As my eyes adjusted, I was relieved to see that the cut had only just grazed the surface of my skin. I scanned the room, seeing that the thing I’d touched was a piece of an old oil drum. In fact, the room was full of metal scraps resembling it.

A vision flashed before my eyes. Of City Hall being engulfed in flame within seconds, and the criminal mastermind hiding the evidence in a cellar, where no one would ever find it until the better part of two decades later.

The rest of the basement was still a cluttered mess, but somehow it felt a great deal more lived-in than what I’d seen up until this point. There wasn’t a soul to be found in any of the windowless rooms I came across, but the few things I found lying around with the help of my pocket torch, like an unopened pack of cigarettes and a deck of cards left strewn across a small table, gave me the distinct impression that I wasn’t alone. The numerous corners provided by old, metal bookshelves and file cabinets did little to slow my racing heart.

Eventually, I came upon an open doorway, beside which a small sign on the wall read, “Archive A.” Beyond the barrier, unlike the pitch darkness I’d been wandering through for I’d long lost count of just how long, a few threads of light were trickling in from above, presumably through a crack in the flooring above that I’d failed to notice before.

I stepped through the doorway, turned to face the yawning expanse of the former archive, and saw her. Dressed in pale white and standing radiantly in the center of the room.

My mother. The very image of my ever vivid memory of her was right there.

My feet carried me, with newfound purpose and with minds of their own, toward her. I wanted to reach out and feel her next to me. I wanted to ascertain that she was truly there and that I hadn’t actually hit my head and wasn’t now seeing things. I wanted to run at her, arms outstretched, more than anything in the world.

But then my ankle throbbed violently in protest, and my reason for being here came back to me at full force. I swallowed down my longing and stopped in my tracks. Her smile—that warm, glowing, congratulatory smile that held all the hope and light of the sun within its corners—wasn’t making this any less difficult, however. I was reminded of the simpler times, when at the end of each day, there was someone back at home waiting to hold me close and make all my worries melt away.

She held her arms out to me in a gesture that made my eyes well up with the tears of a child. It felt unspeakably wrong, but for what reason I could no longer place. Why shouldn’t I? What harm could it possibly do? It was only natural to want to wrap my arms around her as tightly as I was able, and to never let go again, wasn’t it?

A gunshot ripped through the peace.

Her face turned still as stone. Square between her harmless eyes had appeared an inky black-red orifice—an exit wound—from which a spray of crimson had decorated her visage.

Time slowed almost to a stop as Mother careened forward and fell flat onto the cold, hard floor. A hollow thump echoed throughout the empty space.

Before I’d had time to react, I looked up and met eyes with a painfully familiar pair of icy azures, which thawed in an instant as the owner lowered his weapon. I glanced down at the body, which had landed just two or three paces in front of me, then back at him. Then my own body started to shake.

No matter how I tried, I couldn’t control the violent tremors that had taken hold of me. My knees hit the floor, my bad ankle being wrenched one way in the process. This tore a scream from the depths of my lungs as the tears began waterfalling down in spiteful defiance against my will. I couldn’t bare to look at her—lithe arms strewn out limply at her sides and golden hair scattered in every direction—so I hid like the coward I was behind my stinging palms.

A metallic clack, followed by footsteps pounding the cement one after another as they neared. When his arms cradled my head into the shelter of his chest, I didn’t stop him. Nor did I when his hand began its gentle stroking up and down the curve of my back. He could have said something, anything, but he refrained. Instead, the silence surrounding my cries did nothing but amplify them.

A resounding clatter broke the air.

My vision was fogged up like a window pane in the dead of winter, but as I blinked away the tears, I began to make out the shape of an assault rifle lying on the concrete, at the feet of a person who hadn’t been there before and whose face I was unable to make out from this distance. In the figure’s hand was a bone-white mask, which they turned over in their grasp before dropping it onto the floor as well. It shattered upon landing.

In every corner, assassins were emerging from the shadows, each one of them laying down their weapons and turning to face the cooling corpse resting at the axis point of it all. Somehow, the room seemed even more devoid of daylight than ever before.

[thequeenb]

Pairings Poppy x MC

Zoe dragged me into this frat party where once again i had to see Poppy's face. I grew fond of her cruel words and her sharp glare. Everywhere i go i feel like i am being followed, that must be because everyone is so interesting in our stupid fights.

I am now sitting on a bench as the loud music consumes me. Zoe is playing beer ponk with the boys. She insisted on playing but i wasn't in the exact mood for that. Luis practically got offended saying he wants to team up with me again and kick their asses.

I chug the bitter liquor from my cup as i feel it burning my throat. What am i even doing here? Tomorrow i must grade the essays Professor Kingsley gave me. I probably drank more than i intended too but that's because of my latest encounter with Poppy.

As i stand up someone bump into me and the remaining liquor on my cup goes flying on my new shirt. Great, just what i needed. I glance up and see Veronica put her phone away looking at me apologetically. I never saw her alone without Poppy's dogs but now she looks different, more carefree

"You should really watch where you are going" she says smirking "here let me" she grabs a handful of napkins from a nearby table handing them to me

I roll my eyes "Maybe stop being on your phone that much"

Veronica chuckles sitting beside me "My followers will hate me if i do"

Wow how soothing. I try to clean the remaining alcohol knowing well it will leave a stain. I sigh running my hand through my hair, what am i supposed to say now?

"Are you here to livestream my failures or did Poppy send you?"

She looks at me skeptical and the silence is stretched out way to long "You know Poppy needs me i don't, i already have a platform"

I know well trust me. Me and Professor went through all of that a couple of weeks ago and luckily i am aware of the people around me

"Then why are you running behind her all the time?"

Veronica sighs and i can tell this question makes her uncomfortable "You dont have to tell me anything..you hate me anyways"

"I don't" she says looking at the chaotic party around us "i tried to put some sense into their heads but"

But they are a bunch of bitches threatened by a small town girl i know Veronica.

I laugh surprised at her statement "And why would i believe you?"

"I had a fight with Poppy. She wanted me to search something embarrassing about your past"

I am not surprised. Since day one Poppy has been nothing but bitter and cold towards me

She takes her phone out typing fast. Ok this girl is no joke. Finally she shoves her screen into my face and i gasp

"Oh my god delete that!" What the hell? How did she found my old account on Instagram

She laughs loudly "Gosh that selfie with the pig is amazing"

For a moment i think she will post it but she actually deletes it looking at me while typing a message. That's some skills.

"I mean no harm. I actually meant to bump into you" she takes a deep breath, her shoulders tense a little bit

"Oh really? Am i that interesting?" I chuckle as i gaze at her. She is indeed beautiful. Her hair is tied in a tight bun a little bit messy if you ask me. A lock of hair falls into her face and without realising i tuck it behind her ear

Her eyes have a hidden desire behind them as she lean in. Is this really happening? That until a loud cough bring me back to reality and of course its Chloe and Poppy

"I thought you said you are going to the bathroom not in the garbage"

I roll my eyes pulling away from Veronica who just sit up "What are you even doing with her? You know you really need to learn how to dress" Chloe says crossing her arms. She is two steps behind Poppy, her shadow basically how sad Chlo.

"Said the barbie wannabe" i stand up ready to leave when i hear Poppy clapping

"How charming Newbee thinks she is something, i can take you back to the bottom of the list but i feel to sorry for you"

Ugh yes Min-Sinclair i am so scared of you. I fight back the urge to respond to her as i head towards Zoe. She smiles warmly when she sees me

"Girl come here we are going to kick some ass!" She says excitedly passing me the ball

___

"Are you serious V you can't be seen with her in public" Chloe says looking up at Poppy for approval

Veronica rolls her eyes "Why don't you bring me a drink doggo?"

Before she can even respond Poppy waves her hand dismissively "Do that"

As she disappears they are finally alone and oh my her eyes are filled with anger

"If you felt nostalgic for the bottom food chain i can drag you there gladly"

Veronica laughs crossing her arms "What's your problem anyways, she is 20 on the rankings"

Poppy takes a step closer and i swear if this was a cartoon smoke would come out from her ears "Listen here you stupid cow i make the rules"

"Says who? The T? Or dozens of stupid brainless students?" Veronica claps back not backing down

"If i see you one more time near Hughes i won't hesitate to end you" Poppy spits out angrily as Chloe comes back with a drink

"I like her she is actually interesting"

Uh oh V you shouldn't have said that. Poppy is holding a drink i wouldn't test her. But instead she storms out with a low scream

Chloe is about to follow but she stops her tracks "Don't you dare follow me!!"

___

I am laughing with the boys felling the alcohol flowing through my veins. With the corner of my eye i see Poppy sitting alone on a bench. Where are her followers? Did Min-Sinclair fall off her high horse yet?

I sigh as i let my cup down approaching her. Zoe gives me a worried look and i nod thinking i am doing the right thing.

The more i approach the more clear i can hear. The music fades behind me and i can actually hear sniffing. Is Poppy crying? The heartless monster that tries to ruin my life has actual feelings? Wow shocker.

"What do you want? Talk to me when you find your sense of fashion" ouch i actually start to regret approaching

"You don't have to pretend, no one is around anyways" i say sitting a little far away from her testing the waters

She sighs letting her walls down "I don't like this party anyways Carter is giving no attention to me"

I try to hold back a laugh and i think she noticed "If you make fu--"

"Oh shut up i am trying to have an actual conversation with you"

"Don't kiss my friends, better yet forget Veronica because if you approach--"

I stand up throwing my hands in the air "Why are you so obsessed with me??" Oh wow i am actually impressed with myself

Poppy looks stunned for a second before standing up to face me "No one gets to talk to me this way Newbee especially someone with an annoying voice and no wearable clothes"

Gosh why do you have to be so annoying? I feel the alcohol kick in and i want to go as far away as possible before i say something i will regret

"You like me" yup there it is, i tried to warn you Bea.

"Excuse me? I like you?"

I suddenly get a notification on my phone. I ignore her outburst as i open the message noticing its from Veronica. Great timing V

"Will you look at that? Veronica wants to meet up so ta ta!"

"No!" She yells and i smirk. Good job Pop, very convincing

I laugh looking at her expression. I can see her faint blush under the neon lights. She is actually beautiful if she wasn't such a bitch. She looks uncomfortably around noticing we are all alone. Very subtle

"I don't want your dirt near my circle" she finally says crossing her arms. How cute

"There you are" Veronica appears at the best time looking between me and Poppy

"Am i interrupting something?" She says ready to step away but i walk towards her

"Actually i was about to come and find you" i say shooting a small smile at Poppy

"See you around!" I grab Veronica's hand leading us away. Oh its on

"AAAAAAA" i can hear a scream but it fades as we step into the dancefloor. For once i feel like i am winning. I dance my worries away as i enjoy making Poppy jealous as she watch us dance close. I will make you work for it darling, make your life a living hell.

As time passes i take a sit exhausted from dancing. Veronica had to go livestream promising she will be back soon. Aaand her comes Poppy once again approaching dangerously close

"What could you possibly want n--" but before i can even finish my sentence Poppy throws her arms around me pulling me into a heated kiss. What.Is.Happening?

I pull away stunned gazing at her shinny eyes "Never approach Veronica again" she says trying to catch her breath. Did she just kiss me?? Before i can even comprehend what we just did she blows me a kiss leaving "See you around Newbee"

I let out a laugh knowing well this is going to be fun.

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @princessstellaris @coldbatfriendroad @lilyspencerswife @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @justastranger-passing

[originalhybridloverfics]

Don’t Give Up Now - Ch4

The first thing Eda did when she got off work was go shopping for a new dress. She wanted something to knock Serkan’s ass off but also a dress that meant something. 

She wanted him to be unable to focus on anything but her. 

Serkan said he was here for work but she was not stupid. He is here for another reason. 

Work was just an excuse and Eda refused to let him crawl beneath her skin again with false pretenses. 

They have been down that road before and she was not going to let it happen again.

She looked at herself in the floor-length mirror. She straightened her hair. It flowed down her back in long dark strands. She wore a light red eyeshadow, her lashes long and dark, her lips painted a vivid red. 

She looked at her curves encased in the red fabric. 

When she saw the flirty red mini dress in the store, she knew it was the one. 

The V-neckline accentuated her chest, the criss-cross spaghetti straps bared the smoothed skin of her shoulders and back. The ruched and wrapped bodice clung to her every curve like a second skin, the short hemline stopped mid-thigh leaving her long legs on display. 

She paired the dress with a pair of gold strappy heels.

Eda smiled at her reflection in approval. She looked amazing and if Serkan didn’t think so he was either blind or stupid. 

Or a completely unfeeling Robot which was entirely possible. He was, after all, Serkan Robot Bolat.

She grabbed her long trench coat, slipping it on over her shoulders, then her bag, and headed out the door. 

Serkan had better come compared because she was not going to make any of this easier on him. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Serkan waited, his fingers tapping impatiently against the table cloth.

He looked at his phone contemplating if he should call her but something told him to look up. 

A feeling beneath his skin that made him aware of everything but most of all, aware of her. 

He looked up and she stood in the doorway dressed in a trench coat, her hair straightened to perfection and flowing down around her. 

She strode forward and he stood, straightening his jacket. 

“I was starting to think you stood me up,” Serkan confessed. 

“I said I would be here and I am,” Eda replied, trying to ignore how good he looked in his vest and suit. She swore no man could make a vest look sexy the way Serkan did. 

She hated that she was still so damn attracted to him and she hated him for still having that effect on her.  

Serkan fought the urge to walk around the table and wrap his arms around her. Instead, he gestured for her to have a seat. 

Eda slipped off her coat and Serkan nearly swallowed his tongue. 

God, she was so fucking gorgeous. A goddess standing before him in all her beauty. 

She was trying to kill him faster than the tumor pressing down on his brain. 

He forced the morbid thought of his impending death away. 

Eda slid into her seat loving Serkan’s reaction to her dress. 

“You look stunning.” Serkan complimented, re-taking his seat. 

“Serkan, keep your compliments to yourself, and let’s get down to business.” Eda signaled for the waiter. 

“I thought we could catch up before discussing the business details.” Serkan straightened his jacket. 

“You thought wrong. This is a business dinner, therefore the only thing we will be discussing is dinner.” Eda plastered a fake smile on her face as the waiter reached their table. 

“What can I get you?” The waiter inquired. 

“I will have the mozzarella chicken, and breadsticks,” Eda answered. 

“I’ll have the same, with added sauce for the breadsticks. And your best bottle of wine.” Serkan hadn’t bothered to look at the menu.

“Very well,” The waiter scribbled their order down and walked away. 

“Since when do you eat foods with so many spices?” Eda asked, surprised that he wanted the same as her. 

“I recently decided to experience all the things I denied myself,” Serkan answered. 

“I don’t believe it,” said Eda. “What happened to the man who was basically a hypochondriac? The man that checks his pulse whenever he so much as coughs?”

“He realized you had to live life minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. Moment by moment.”

His words surprised Eda. “And what caused this change?”

Serkan looked at not saying anything. He wouldn’t tell her the reason for his change in perspective. She did not need to know. Ignorance was bliss. 

He didn’t want her to suffer from the knowledge and a part of her didn’t think he could survive if her resentment caused her to not care enough about him that he was dying. Or worse, if she cared enough to try and convince him to seek treatment. 

He couldn’t do that. He refused to put the few people in his life who cared about him through that kind of pain. 

“People change,” Serkan said finally. 

Eda felt her stomach twist at the look in his eye. It was sad in a way she had never seen before. Defeated almost. There was acceptance on his face that for the life of her she couldn’t understand. 

She felt like she was missing something. Maybe it had to do with what she overheard from Engin and Piril. Eda couldn’t be sure. She didn’t know. 

She hated not knowing and it frustrated her. 

“Whoever inspired the change, I’m thinking I should thank them. They have made you more tolerable.” Eda said and regretted the words immediately. They were harsh and she didn’t mean them but she was angry. However, the look of genuine hurt on Serkan’s face had her wanting to take the words back. 

“I’ll be sure to thank them for you,” Serkan wondered how did one go about thanking a tumor for aspiring them to change. 

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Eda knew when to apologize for her mistakes. “It was mean spirited. I didn’t come here to fight. It probably doesn’t sound that way but I didn’t. I came here to work.” 

“Do you enjoy working here in Italy?” Serkan asked. “With Efe?” 

“I do. Efe has been a great boss and an even better teacher. And Italy has been everything I dreamed it would be.” Eda answered, her anger slowly slipping away as she sat with Serkan. 

“Tell me about it,” Serkan requested. “Tell me everything you love about it.”

Eda found herself telling him everything as they enjoyed their food. How she spent her Sundays at the library in a quiet corner reading a book. How at night she would take walks along the park. She found an orphanage that she volunteered at on Saturdays, taking care of its garden. How she ate her favorite ice creams out on her terrace looking up at the stars. How wherever she had a bad day, she would walk by the waterfront, smell the sea, watch the waves. Some nights she liked to go to her favorite place. It was a cliffside, covered in flowers. She liked to sit beneath the tree and just watch the sea, especially when the sun was setting and the sky was full of pink dusky hues. 

“It’s unbelievably beautiful,” Eda said, her eyes shining with life and excitement. 

Serkan had been listening to her intently, feeling that warmth, that light surrounding him, her voice a soothing balm to his aching soul. 

“Yes, it is.” Serkan agreed, his vision consisting only of her. 

Eda smiled and watched as Serkan’s lips pulled into one, matching hers. 

And just like that, she realized what she was doing. 

She was having dinner with Serkan like it was a fucking date. They hadn’t even talked about the business aspects of this dinner. 

They talked about her and her life for the past hour. He had no right to know any of that. 

Her smile was gone as she glared at him. Serkan noticed the change immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brow furrowing. 

“I see what you’re doing and you had me. I forgot how persuasive you can be.” She shook her head. “We are here for work. So let’s discuss business.” 

“Eda-”

“No,” Eda cut him off abruptly. “Either we get to the business portion of this dinner or I get up and leave. Your choice, Serkan.” 

Serkan stared at her quietly before finally saying. “Okay. Okay.” 

“Tell me about your house." Eda all but ordered.

“The guest room has the best view. I want to make it my bedroom. I want a terrace with pillows and curtains, somewhere I can relax outside and enjoy the star. I want a garden filled with flowers and beauty. I want a woman’s touch in my home.” Serkan listed off, his eyes never leaving hers. 

Eda looked at him, her glare deepening. “You are going to model your house the way I wanted my own home?”

“Yes.” Serkan nodded. “You have good ideas.” 

“Really?” Eda asked doubtfully. 

“Yes, really. You were always so talented.” Serkan praised. 

Eda wanted to believe his compliments were sincere but it just wasn’t that simple with him. She didn’t know why he was really there and couldn’t bring herself to believe his sweet words were anything but reaching whatever endgame he had in mind. 

“Stop, just stop, Serkan,” Eda said, pushing her now empty plate away from her. 

“What?” Serkan's forehead creased in confusion. 

“Stop with the compliments, the sweet words, the charm, all of it,”  Eda told him. 

“I was just being honest. I mean, look at where you are now. You’re a landscape architect and you did it all on your own. You finally got your degree and you wasted no time in making waves professionally. Your name has come up more than once whenever the topic of a good landscape architect in Italy was mentioned.” 

Eda's lips lifted into a smile, her cheeks flushing. She enjoyed her success. 

“You were always meant for big things, Eda. I hated that you left but I am so proud of how far you’ve come.” 

“You know why I left, the reasons haven’t changed.” Eda's smile was gone. “How long are you staying in Italy.” 

“Indefinitely,” Serkan answered. “I may never leave here.” 

“No, you can’t stay here. You have to finish your business here and then you leave.  Go home, back to Istanbul.” Eda insisted. 

“I won’t leave, Eda,” Serkan said. “I can’t.” 

“Why? What’s so important that you dropped everything to come here?” Eda demanded.” 

“You,” Serkan said without hesitation. 

Eda’s heart thudded in her chest at his words and she hated it. “I have to go,” she said abruptly. 

“But we haven’t had dessert yet,” Serkan protested. 

“I don’t care. This night is over. We have discussed the business part and that is all this dinner was meant to be. Nothing more. I told you that and I meant it.” Eda stood up. “No amount of sweet words or compliments is going to change anything with us. There is nothing between us anymore and I don’t want there to be.” 

“Eda.” Serkan stood. “Please just give me one night. One night to show you that things have changed. I have changed and things can be different between us.” 

“No,” Eda pulled out money from her clutch, tossing it on the table, not allowing Serkan to pay for dinner. “Goodbye, Serkan.”

“Eda,” Serkan moved to follow her but stopped suddenly, feeling dizzy. 

Serkan eased back into his seat rubbing at his temple as his head started to hurt. He hated that the pain had become quite familiar. 

Serkan signaled for the waiter and ordered something stronger to drink and called himself a taxi. 

A few moments later, the waiter had returned his drink and took a big swig from the glass. 

This was not how he wanted the dinner to end. He had hoped after dinner to invite Eda for a walk with Sirius. He wanted to walk with her underneath the stars, have her smile at him. He wanted things to be like old times when he knew nothing of his father’s mistakes and he was just a man madly in love with a woman who had changed his world and became the center of it without him even realizing it. 

Serkan down the rest of his drink. 

This was going to be harder than he imagined it was going to be. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Eda closed the door to her apartment behind her, she tossed her clutch on the end table and headed straight for her bedroom. She sat down at her vanity. Slipping off her shoes, she took off her jewelry before walking into her bathroom and shedding her dress. 

After a quick shower, she pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a zipped up hoodie. 

She heard the faint noise of the phone and retrieved it from her clutch. It was a text from Efe asking about the business dinner she had with Serkan. 

She texted him back that she got the details that Serkan wanted and would write it into a client dossier and would have it on his desk by morning. 

She walked out onto her terrace, her phone clutched in her hand. 

She wanted to know why Serkan was here but it was clear he was not going to tell her why that was. 

Maybe Ceren would know. If he was really here for business she should know. She was his lawyer.

Eda debated if she should put her friend in the middle of the issues between her and Serkan but ultimately her need to know won out. 

She dialed Ceren and pressed her phone to her ear. Her friend answered on the third ring. 

“Eda,” 

Eda could hear the smile in her friend’s voice. 

“Ceren, hi. I’m sorry if it's late.” Eda apologized, realizing it was almost midnight in Istanbul.

“No, it’s fine. How are you?” Ceren asked. 

“Good, Good.” Eda bit her lip. 

“Eda,” Ceren said. 

“Not so good. Serkan is here.” Eda confessed. 

“At your house?” Ceren asked, surprised. 

“No,” Eda shook her head even though Ceren couldn’t see it. “In Italy.”

“Oh. Why is he there?” Ceren inquired. 

“That’s what I was going to ask you? He says he's here for business but if that were true you would know, wouldn't you? You're his lawyer.” 

“Eda, I can’t discuss Serkan’s business ventures with you,” Ceren told her. 

“I know,” Eda sighed. “I just, something is telling me he’s not here for business. He’s using it as an excuse.” 

“An excuse for what?” Ceren asked. “To get close to you?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Eda said.

“Could it be he’s still in love with you?” Ceren suggested. 

“No. It’s been years, Ceren.” Eda argued. 

“So does that mean because of how long it’s been you no longer feel anything for him?” Ceren questioned. 

“No,” Eda said. “I mean, I feel anger and... And..”

“Eda, it’s okay if you still feel something for him. You were in love.” Ceren said. 

“This isn’t about what I may or may not feel for Serkan,” Eda said, she didn’t want to talk about her feelings. 

“Then what is this about?” Ceren asked. 

“I think there’s something more going on here. He didn’t come alone. Piril, Engin, and Leila are with him. Something else is going on here.” Eda said. 

Ceren was quiet for a long time that made Eda think maybe she had dropped the call. 

“Ceren?”

“Eda, I don’t think you’re wrong. Serkan has been making some changes lately.” Ceren said. 

“Changes?” Eda repeated. “What kind of changes?” 

“I can’t tell you. Serkan is my client and as my client, I cannot break his confidence.” Ceren told her, 

“What can you tell me?” Eda asked. 

“I feel there is something more going on with Serkan. I think it’s serious more than either of us could know. Eda, I’ve gotten to know Serkan over the years that you’ve been in Italy. He’s a good person at heart and I don’t think he’s ever moved on from you so I have to ask you something.” 

“What is it?” Eda asked, surprised by Ceren’s words. 

“Be kind to him, Eda. I feel you are right and Serkan is there for a reason and it’s not business. Let the past go, Eda, and give him a chance. Maybe then you can find out the actual reason he is there.” 

“Yeah, Okay,” Eda said her goodbyes to Ceren and ended the call. 

Eda stared out at the city lights decorating the night sky pondering over Ceren's words. 

After a moment of contemplation, she swipes her thumb across her phone screen and found Serkan’s number. 

Her finger hovered over the call button with indecision. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

When Serkan got back to the large condo he had bought for himself until his house was ready, he avoided calls from everyone wanting to be left alone. He moved out to his bedroom terrace with a bottle of alcohol and a shot glass. He took a seat on the lounge chair, pouring himself a shot. 

Sirius came to him, sitting at his feet, and rested the top of his head on his knee. 

Serkan ran his hand through Sirius's scruff, itching behind his ears. 

Since he had gotten sick, it was rare for Sirius to leave his side when he was home. 

Eda had looked so beautiful tonight. Her mere presence lit up his world. It didn’t matter that she was angry with him, just hearing her voice, looking into her eyes, being around her again, it was like being able to breathe again. 

It was clear she was not going to make any of this easy on him but again, he didn’t care. She was worth the effort. 

She was worth everything. 

And if he was going to die then he wanted to be surrounded by her. 

He lifted a hand to rub at his pounding head just as his phone ranged. 

He retrieved his phone from his pocket and a picture of Eda flashed across his screen. 

He was stunned for a moment that she was calling him, especially after the way she had walked away from him at dinner. 

He stared so long he realized any second now the call would go to voicemail. He quickly swiped the answer button and pressed his cell to his ear. 

Heart pounding hard in his chest he held his breath.

Waiting.

[macchiatooru]

ᴬⁿ ᵃˡˡ⁻ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ³ʳᵈ ᵍʸᵐ ˢqᵘᵃᵈ?

With Kenma? And Lev and Hinata? Absolute College AU vibes? Despite my doubts about the productivity, I definitely need this. It’s around 1AM as I type, and I literally have three papers to finish, with one due tomorrow. HAHAHAHAHA. (I wrote this note last night, so it’s not entirely applicable now, but well- I have to submit the second tomorrow and the third the following day... I hope HAHAHA)

Note: If you’re also up at such ungodly hours and want to add to this when you’re stuck with a paper too, or a lesson, or something, go ahead! If you want to modify something, don’t hesitate to say it!

The situation, for example, is that you’re writing a paper, and you don’t know how to continue it anymore. Luckily, you have enough options to kill the time until your brain is working properly again. The apartment―whoever owns it, maybe you guys were sharing or had connecting ones or were neighbors or whatnot―would literally look like, I don’t know, a convention? It’s like there are different stalls with different activities. Take your pick!

Tsukishima’s Corner:

I can imagine that he has this set-up in the far end of the living room where he has a table against the wall and a chair with a blanket on it

And he always has a drink with him, whether it’s a soda or an Iced Americano. (that just gave me Yoongi vibes ahhh my heart)

Of course, he has his headphones on. Not surprising.

He’s pretty calm when he does his schoolwork, and his focus is just wow

So, don’t expect him to pay attention to you that much. Again, not surprising.

If you have an actual question though, I think you can ask him!

He’ll help you out, but be wary of the sass and teasing.

It’s highly possible for him to annoy the shit out of you before you guys solve the problem, btw.

If you have chips with you, he’ll take some without asking permission smh but he’s so idufhsdbkfhda can you really say no?

You can get back at him by repetitively calling him “Tsukki”.

“Cut it out.”

“No can do, Tsu~ Kki!”

Emphasize! the! syllables! because he probably lowkey thinks it’s kinda cute

Unless he doesn’t and he throws the blanket at your face to shut you up

Don’t annoy him when he’s in a bad mood, okay?

He’ll really appreciate it if you give him space on those days

But he’ll also appreciate it so so so much if you’re the one who hands him his usual drink.

Despite being the person who could really rile you up the most

He’s actually nice... in his own way!

Lev and Hinata’s “Quiet” Pile of Pillows:

What am I even saying?

There’s nothing quiet about that part of the living room.

Lev and Hinata like studying in their “own kind of comfort”

And that is with their “study” blankets―they have separate ones for sleeping―on the floor and their pillows on top.

They study with the TV on

A series on Netflix is playing the entire time.

Nobody minds, really, because for some reason, most of you can study with some noise in the background. Those who can’t, however, just listen to music on their own.

They have hot or iced chocolate―depends on their mood―made either by you, Akaashi, or Kuroo.

You never asked Bokuto to do it again. Never again.

One time, he made the mistake of giving the “kids” coffee, and well, was that some night.

Lev and Hinata have common classes, so they work on some of their assignments together.

Expect them to be very excited when they get something right and very frustrated when they can’t understand what they’re doing.

Probably just a spot for you to take a quick break, maybe lie your head down on Lev’s favorite pillow to annoy him.

It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, but because you just took it right out of his lap.

They’ll be really happy kiddos if you join them! Please give these babies the attention they need.

Also, it helps to give them snacks to shut them up.

Bokuto’s Spot on the Couch:

That became his permanent spot after Akaashi sent him there because of that one time that big baby reaaally got on his nerves.

He has a pillow supporting his back as he leans against an armrest, legs stretched out in front of him and laptop on his, well, lap. HAHAHA sorry

He also likes working with the TV on, so it was a suitable place for him.

Bokuto’s drink would either be a can of soda or a protein shake.

Keep your phone on standby.

You have to take a pic of the pouty face he makes when he doesn’t get something.

He’s so cute he can have my heart-

“Akaashiiiii~ Why won’t you help me out?”

Akaashi would remind him that not only was he a year higher, but he also had a different major.

*cue Bo’s emo mode with matching droopy hair fml he’s literally so cute*

He gets distracted easily because he never puts his phone on silent

Probably chats with Konoha idk

Or gets carried away watching game highlights.

He already startled all of you a few times.

“OOOOOOOOOOOH. DAAAAAAAAAAAMN. THAT WAS SO GOOD.”

“Bokuto-san-”

If you choose to go to him, he can’t really help you with the paper you’re writing.

However, he gives THE BESTEST HUGS!

I think a lot of us agree that he’s a walking heater, so getting a hug from that beefy boi? Especially when it’s cold?

H E A V E N

Or that’s just me being biased, but is it really just me?

I love him.

Kuroo’s Kitchen Kounter:

Now, I’m definitely sure I’m being biased because- I mean- JUST-

One of the kitchen counters faces the common living area where everyone is spread out.

Imagine walking from wherever you were previously just staring at your laptop with that constant 132 words plastered on the corner of the screen and you’re well-aware that it has to be 2000 by tomorrow

And seeing business-related major Kuroo, sitting on a stool, immersed in his work, Excel sheets and documents being the only inhabitants of his laptop screen?

I’m literally giving myself away I-

He has glasses on and he’s tapping the end of his pen on his chin and at this point I’m hyperventilating

THE FACE HE MAKES WHEN HE CONCENTRATES

From time to time, he would swivel the stool around, take a sip of the black iced coffee he always brews at night, and eat whatever snack was available (e.g. chips, popcorn, sandwiches, instant noodles, sometimes asks Bokuto to make another protein shake, etc.)

He doesn’t really listen to music and can easily drown out the noise on his own because he concentrates so much.

You can always count on him to entertain you

Because despite the amount of focus he puts into his homework and problem sets, he also wants any excuse to tear his eyes of his screen.

He’s good at papers, so he can help you with that in the best way he can

Also asks if you would like to take a break and grab a snack with him

And can be a flirt if he’s in the mood, but when he’s tired, he has a soft and sleepy smile (except he’s not really sleepy because of the coffee, he’s just not putting that much effort)

Although he will annoy and provoke you while the two of you are on break

He’s the best person to cry to when you’re really stressed out.

I want him.

Akaashi’s Atelier:

He literally owns the dining table, his work neatly spread out.

I can almost imagine him studying architecture

But nah I guess he just really likes practicing how to capture anything and everything he can observe

And by capturing, I really mean that there’s a pile of photos there somewhere.

Afterwards, he draws them, paying attention to every detail.

He finishes schoolwork before any of you do.

His concentration surpasses that of Kuroo’s, no joke.

You can’t disturb him when he’s working on his academic requirements, so come back later when he’s sketching the hours away.

If you want to do your paper beside him though? Go.

His concentration is not only top tier but also contagious.

He’ll share the dining table, but only to you and, occasionally, Kuroo.

Bokuto? Only if he’s super emo.

Akaashi’s really nice!

He’ll initiate a conversation with you if you’re taking a break and he’s just on his sketchbook or experimenting with graphic design or something.

If you want to see a passionate but shy Akaashi, ask him what he’s working on.

I just know his eyes will literally light up.

He might be drinking tea, mint tea?

Water most of the time, but he always smells like mint and fresh laundry ahhh be still, my heart

Go to him if you really want to be productive and not get distracted by anything else because his eyes and the way he’s so into what he’s doing might actually be what distracts you

He is the epitome of grace under pressure, such a beautiful human being ha ha ha I wish

Kenma’s Den:

Well, what did you really expect?

Nah, kidding.

Kenma’s the only one in his room because he’s probably streaming.

His audience is mostly up at night, so yeah.

He definitely has ramen, chips, and soda

Which he’s willing to share with you as long as you don’t mess his game up don’t try I swear

Tbh, it’s actually really comforting to stay in his room especially when you’re really stressed out.

You can rest your eyes and take a quick nap.

He knows that he should wake you up after fifteen minutes, so don’t worry about sleeping through the night without finishing your paper.

He’s so sweet please

It’s so comforting to hear his fingers tapping away, a literal lullaby that gets you every time.

At some point, some people probably caught you slipping under his duvet IT WAS YOUR FIRST LOWKEY SCANDAL HAHAHAHAHA

Which lasted for just an hour because Kenma’s viewers knew him enough to know what his facial expressions meant

He definitely can’t help you with your paper. Such a busy boi.

But if he’s in the lobby that’s what you call it, right? of whatever game he’s playing, he’s willing to listen to your rants.

A quiet listener, but you know that he genuinely cares about you.

Massage his shoulders if you can! He likes that.

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☪ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

background photo by NeONBRAND on unsplash

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

i’m falling again (Bakugo Katsuki X Reader) (sad ending)

Guys... Harry Style’s newest song is... heartwrenching and I fucking love it, it’s such a tearjerker and I love it so much, I NEEDED to write something with it... it’s that good and it made me cry... >.< </b>

Think of this as an extra to my ‘Dump His Ass’ series that I never expected to become oddly popular!! Thanks you guys!! <3</b>

However, while I love me some angst, I think after I’m done with this I’ll hafta write another fic with a happier ending, but for now... here’s the sad ending!! :3 

FROM: https://ice-cream-kitsunegirl.tumblr.com/post/188898319229/i-needed-to-lose-you-to-love-me-bakugou-katsuki-x

Summary: Bakugo isn’t known for his soft heart, but when he saw you kissing another man, it physically hurt...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olGSAVOkkTI

Nothing hurt or scared Katsuki Bakugo.

Nothing. 

He’s been strong and brave-hearted since he was a child, fearless by nature he didn’t let anything get to him and never showed any moment of weakness and never cried about anything, no temper tantrums didn’t count. 

He wasn’t afraid of the dark as a child, he wasn’t afraid of the bullies who were bigger than him. His fear didn’t waver as he got older and stronger. Because he wasn’t afraid of the villains who attacked him and his classmates at the USJ. He wasn’t even scared of the villains who captured him at the summer camp.

They held him captive and tied him up so he couldn’t escape or try to fight back, he wasn’t scared then. Nothing could get to him. Nothing could make him break down, he didn’t cry when he got his first shot at the doctor, he didn’t cry when those older kids fought with him, he didn’t cry when he wiped out on his bike and hurt his ankle. 

He didn’t cry and he wasn’t afraid of anything. 

Aside from maybe getting nearly possessed by that Sludge Villain, and then All-Might going into retirement. Those were the only two moments in his life that probably scared and internally harmed him the most to bring him to tears.

However...

There’s only one person who really knew how much that scared and hurt him. And that person was you, his beloved girlfriend. Even when he didn’t want to, because Bakugo didn’t open up to people, it wasn’t in his nature. Still, somehow you knew everything about him, and even enabled him to open up to you on the rare moments where he would let you see even a SMIDGE of vulnerability from him because he trusted you.

You were always more openly emotional than him, so much it was annoying especially when you would just chat and chat about something you loved whether it was a movie, a TV show or something he thought was dumb. Still, he listened to you, and God he wished he did more of that. But he especially listened when you were being vulnerable and opening up about everything. Ever since you and him were kids, he’s had a soft spot for you and actually let you open up.

You knew him, you trusted him, you loved him. And he knew you, he trusted you, and he loved you.

But then you dumped his ass, told him what a shitty boyfriend he had been and said you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him for several months as you avoided him, froze him out and showed how little you needed him because he failed you.

Now that both terrified him and hurt him...

I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back I can't unpack the baggage you left

It’s been almost half a year since the two of you have broken up, and only recently you and Bakugo got some closure and you didn’t take him back. And honestly, Bakugo knew that was nobody’s fault but his own. He hated admitting it to himself but he knew there was no one else to blame but himself.

As he lied in his bed, he tried his hardest to ignore the fact that you still weren’t with him. Valentine’s Day wasn’t long ago, but he didn’t buy you anything because you and him weren’t together anymore. 

The worst part? He didn’t even get you anything LAST Valentine’s Day because he said it was stupid, commercialized and a game that you shouldn’t have played into even as you gave him those chocolates and even a card that he still secretly kept.

He really was a shitty boyfriend. He realized that the more he lied down with an anguished scowl and growled. Bakugo was aware that he could have been a better boyfriend, but the breaking point was when he called you something he swore he’d NEVER call you.

That’s why you left him. You put up with his bullshit long enough, you could handle him being a jerk, saying ‘no’ to spending time with him, but then he insulted your appearance, your weight, and your interests. The same things all the assholes from school used to insult you for, the assholes HE protected you from.

“Dammit!!” He yelled at no one but himself, “You fucking idiot!!” Even though you said that the two of you could still be friends, Bakugo wished for more than that. He wanted you back...

He wanted you back so fucking much even though he knew he didn’t deserve you. Bakugo refused to shed any tears even as he eventually closed his eyes...

“I dump your ass!”

“WHAT?!”

“You heard me. I. DUMP. YOUR. ASS!” You enunciated the words slowly and deliberately to annoy him and he was extremely indignant and appalled that you were… seriously breaking up with him?! HIM?!

“You’re dumping me?!”

“What the fuck do you think I said it two fucking times!!” 

“You’re not seriously breaking up with me over a fucking insult?!” Bakugou’s pride started talking for him though, because he refused to let you bruise his ego by dumping HIM.

“Yes I am Katsuki, and that’s not the only reason… It’s because you’re also selfish and mean! You’re the worst boyfriend ever and I’ve put up with your shit plenty of times but this is just WAY TOO FUCKING MUCH! What you said is just too fucking much for me to even put up with, you’ve completely broken me down I feel like shit and I’ve HAD it and I’m dumping your ass!”

...

“You called me ‘fat’, ‘ugly’ and ‘lazy’ Katsuki. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“I did NOT call you ugly!” Bakugou replied defensively, aware that he called you ‘fat’ when he really shouldn’t have and he didn’t deny it, but he did NOT call ugly at all. He never thought you were ugly, but you didn’t believe him.  

“Yeah you did… you implied it.” 

“No, I didn’t you idiot! I said shit I shouldn’t have but I never once called you ugly and I didn’t fucking imply it either!”

“You know I’ve been struggling with my self-image and my weight for years Katsuki, and yet you go and say all the things people from school had said to me for years, the people who made me feel ugly, so… you must think I’m ugly if you would say what they’ve been calling me…” 

“I don’t think you’re ugly…” His voice came out as a soft growl, but you shook your head, “Then you wouldn’t have said what you did… it’s okay… I’ve known it for years… well you know what? You’re free now, you don’t need some ugly, fat girl like me dragging you down, maybe now you can go out with that chick from Shiketsu High now..”

...

“How fucking long are you going to punish me (Y/N)?! HOW FUCKING LONG?! ARE YOU REALLY STILL PISSED OFF OVER SOMETHING THAT HAPPENED MONTHS AGO?!”

“Of COURSE, I’m still kind of pissed off! And for the record I am NOT punishing you, you narcissistic asshole, I’m TRYING to think about how I should forgive you for the things you swore to NEVER call me! Or if I even should forgive you! W-What? You want me to j-ju-ju-just… make out with you like its old times?!” You exclaimed with the same vexation that you had been keeping at bay ever since the two of you broke up, not seeing Bakugou’s narrowing eyes and shaking figure as he seethed when you once again, reminded him of the big mistake he made with you.

“I… I mean I… I can’t even look at your face Katsuki! Without… thinking about and hearing the words you said to me and the expression of anger and disgust on your face when you said that I was just some fat pig who was wasting your time!” Emotion nearly choked you up as you wiped your eyes when tears started to cloud them and you couldn’t see just how aggravated and distressed Bakugo was as he clutched his hair out of frustration.

“I FUCKED UP!! How many times do I have to say that I fucked up?! How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?!”

Throwing his hands up, he shouted that he had indeed screwed up, louder than before, frustrated with everything, with you, with himself, with the fucking guilt that just started eating away at him again.

“You can say you’re sorry all you want! I just… I can’t ignore the fact that you would stoop so low to say the same things the people YOU protected me from would say to me. Why did you do that?” 

“ARGH! Dammit! I don’t fucking know! I was pissed off! I had shit I was dealing with and I took it out on you but I shouldn’t have! I admit it!” 

“I just… god… here’s my real question… why are you such a fucking asshole to me?” 

“For God’s sake I said I was sorry for what I said all right?! I’ve said it a million goddamn times! I’m SORRY (Y/N)! I didn’t mean what I said to you! I want to take it all back because it was the worst fucking thing I could have ever said to anyone! Especially you!” He shouted his apology, the angry tears threatening to spill but you shook your head at this.

“I’m not talking about what you said, I’m talking about everything! Ever since we got together you’ve still managed to treat me like shit! Even before we got together you still treated me like shit, and yet it got worse when we became a thing! You hardly spent anytime with me, pushed me away when I tried to help you, made fun of what I liked, insulted me and called me other names for what? Cuz I’m a geek like Izuku, cuz I like geeky things and like to watch TV and eat sweets and say dumb puns and hang out with Izuku and Hitoshi, well I’m sick of it Katsuki! I’m fucking sick of it!”

...

“Look… Katsuki… I mean you no ill will. I still care about you, and I still love you but… I really, really don’t think you’re a good boyfriend…” You said a little bluntly but made your voice soften as he gasped quietly.

“You’re not a bad person… but you’re not a good boyfriend either… and I don’t really think that I can really return to a relationship like that… sorry…” 

“I know I wasn’t! But… look just… dammit (Y/N) I’m not going to say any of that shit to you ever again! I won’t fuck up like I did last time I swear!” He sounded desperate, as if he was pleading to you as he moved closer and you fought the tears starting to build in your eyes when he grabbed your hands. He would beg if he had to, he just couldn’t lose you.

“I love you.”

He said calmly and yet sincerely, out of pure impulse but that’s what he truly meant. He loved you and he just wanted to hear you say the words back to him. He knew you did…

“See that’s just it… I know you love me… I love you too… but… I thought you loving me was enough, at least… until… you said the things you did… now I know you’re sorry… and I don’t doubt that you do love me but… I started hating myself again when you said those things and it made me realize that… I need to love me too, I need to start loving myself… and I didn’t love myself when I was with you. I let you do that for me, and… I can’t do that anymore. It’s not fair to you, and not good for me.”

...

What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

Bakugo’s eyes snapped open as the memories played in his head like some kind of fucked up movie as he remembered every word you said, every tear you shed because of him.

And now here he was, holding in his own tears that he refused to let fall as he angrily wiped at his eyes. No, he did not and would not cry, and he couldn’t cry over spilt milk no matter much it fucking hurt. No matter how much he wanted to just sob and cry out for you to come back to him so he could tell you how fucking sorry he was.

Dammit he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He got up out of bed so he can go to your room and knock until you answer. He needed you, he needed you now...

He outright dashed to the floor where your room was and knocked somewhat vigorously. No answer. Growling, he knocked a little bit harder but again, there was no answer.

Were you asleep? Probably, you were a pretty deep sleeper, but dammit, he wished you were awake to answer him. But then he froze as soon as he heard the tell-tale sound of laughter...

YOUR laughter.

Relief overwhelmed him as he didn’t even realize that he was running so he could find you and not look as pathetic as he probably did right now. He could still hear you, you were near. The commons, duh, you were a late sleeper and watched Netflix when you couldn’t sleep...

“That is disgraceful...” 

But then the ash-blonde stopped dead in his tracks and froze the second he heard someone else’s voice that wasn’t yours. No fucking way...

Eyebags...

“I know...! Oh my God... how humiliating... I love this show but it so uncomfortably hits close to home...” That was your voice and you were giggling as you happily watched that gross show Bakugo didn’t care about at all. Big Mouth it was called, on Netflix too. You were watching Season 3′s ‘How to Have an Orgasm’ to be specific and of course, it was hilarious...

Unlike Bakugo, Shinsou appreciated the show, and watched it with you as he had with other shows on Netflix such as Stranger Things, Kimmy Schmidt, The Good Place, and Big Mouth.  

“Tell me about it... puberty’s a bitch... still is to be honest.” And to make matters worse, Shinsou was laughing with you and it wasn’t the first time. Bakugo was never a fan of Shinsou, he knew you were friends with that bastard, but naturally he was jealous of him because it just seemed like you two were just so damn buddy-buddy and it was annoying.

And yet there was now, just watching TV with you, while he himself was probably the furthest person from your mind...

What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

“Hee-hee... okay~. What do you say? The Office? Since...” Sighing sadly and dramatically you raised your fist in the air, “Friends got taken off...? Or The Good Place maybe?” You binge-watched the entire series before the New Year, because Netflix took it off, but at least you still had The Office and The Good Place.

“Yeah... Friends is gone, but The Office is here for us. Thank God... So yeah... let’s watch The Office. I’d watch The Good Place but I need to watch Season 4 since it just came out but I haven’t seen it yet. And I’ve been dodging spoilers ever since...” Shinsou gave you a smile even though he was just as unhappy as you were when they took Friends off of Netflix.  

“All riiiight~! Hee-hee good idea... I haven’t seen it yet either, I’m waiting til we get the chance to see it with Fumikage, Yuga, Denki and Mina so we can watch the last one altogether~.”

Bakugo had no idea why he was still standing there, but something in him told him to just fucking move already and say something to get your attention so you could see him. He opened his mouth to speak but...

“Can you believe this show’s been out for like 15 years and it’s just getting popular? Like crazy popular?” You nudged Shinsou playfully as he chuckled a bit, “Guess they finally realized how great a show it is...”

Shinsou thought outloud, having gotten closer to you over the past couple of months and spent a lot of time chilling out with you and also training with you as well. Then there were days when you and he would just spend the hours gabbing away about things you both liked. 

“That’s true... some people thought it was uncomfortable... but then they started to like it... which is nice.” You smiled a bit even though you were kind of sad for some reason. The last few months had been... awkward. After all, you had broken up with your boyfriend and went through quite a bit of drama until you cleared it up and made up with Bakugo. You didn’t get together with him, but the two of you reached an understanding and were still friends.

You still talked to him, and you lost your hostility towards him and became more cordial towards him. Although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t still love him. But this was for the best, you couldn’t go back to that, and you were in a better place anyway. You started to feel better and you were able to use your quirk again to fly without your sadness holding you back. You were happier, and not only that...

“Like me.” Shinsou smirked a little bit even though it was a self-deprecating joke which made you roll your eyes. “Hitoshi... okay... you’re a little uncomfortable to be around sometimes, but that was like only in the beginning, you’re great! You’re super great... and awesome. I mean your quirk is so cool, you can fight and punch someone hard enough to knock them out now! AND... you also like Friends, The Office, The Good Place, Stranger Things, smart as hell and you’re nice... well, not nice, but you have a nice side... anyone who can do all those things and like all of that HAS to be great in my book.” You kinda poked at him a bit as he playfully smacked your shoulder with a little grin which made you giggle.

And Bakugo hated it...

“Oh yeah? Well... you’re giving me too much credit (Y/N)... Here’s the truth... I think... you’re great.” 

But Bakugo’s eyes widened when he heard Shinsou say those words to you and you blushed and looked at him with wide eyes that practically shined with stars in them. “Really?”

“Yeah...” He sounded kind of flustered but he didn’t really stop because this was something he needed to tell you even though his face was getting increasingly hot just saying all of this as he nervously scratched the back of his neck, “I mean... your quirk is unique. You made yourself fly, you gave yourself wings to fly, no one else did that but you, you used your quirk creatively and it shows even outside of that, when something bad happens, you managed to make yourself fly again. And you’re weird... in a good way, everyone’s so fake and plastic that they don’t even try to be who they are, but you’re not fake, you’re just... you. Even if you know not everyone will like it, you don’t try to hide it or change yourself for anyone whether they like it or not, and that’s just... great.... I try to do that, I make no effort to change myself but... when you do it it’s actually cool.  I guess... I mean... yeah I just... I think that’s all great. I think... you’re great (Y/N).”

Shinsou stopped making eye contact with you as he felt somewhat bashful, but only when he finished is when he finally looked at you and saw your (E/C) eyes wide and your cheeks flushed. Neither of you aware that Bakugo was still there, listening...

That stupid brainwasher was right... you were great but dammit... HE wanted to tell you that... HE wanted to tell you how great your were and everything else that you were. Beautiful, amazing, intelligent, powerful...

However...

You were so stunned by everything Shinsou told you that you didn’t even think, you acted on pure impulse as you quickly leaned in and you didn’t even hear the gasp coming from your ex-boyfriend’s mouth once he saw your lips on Shinsou’s.

And I get the feelin' that you'll never need me again...

He was falling. Bakugo felt like he was falling as he watched you kiss that brainwashing bastard who made a startled, surprised sound once he felt your warm kiss. Yet Shinsou didn’t deter as Bakugo clenched his fists when he saw his eyes closing as he kissed you back.

He didn’t exist. You didn’t even see him and he knew it because you were lost in such a deep kiss with this extra and it fucking hurt...

He wanted to scream, he wanted to push Shinsou away and tell him to fuck off and tell you that he wanted you back, but he did nothing...

And he knew he was just a fucking loser because all he did was stand there, until his feet started moving as he turned his back so he could get the hell out of here. No, Bakugo couldn’t bear to see you kissing that bastard, he couldn’t bear to see that you had officially moved on.

He didn’t matter anymore to you, he knew it...

Nothing hurt or scared Katsuki Bakugo. Nothing. Except for seeing the love of his life kissing another man. He was a coward, a fucking weakling because now everything was hurting, his chest ached as he lied back in his bed. And he was letting this hurt him, but dammit... it hurt because he loved you. He still loved you and still wanted you here...

What am I now? What am I now? What if you’re someone I just want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

You were his biggest fan,  his biggest supporter. Not anymore. He knew that... but he didn’t love you just because of that, he loved you because you were you. A dork, a weirdo, unafraid to be your loving and quirky self. You softened his heart and yet he let his own stupidity and asshole self treat you like garbage when you deserved better than that.

He refused to cry, but because he was such a damn weakling the tears just fell and betrayed him by streaming down his face as he swallowed the hard lump in his throat that was threatening to crawl up and make it’s presence known. His breath hitching as he stared up at his ceiling and his mind just showed the image of you kissing Shinsou.

Along with the image of him yelling at you and you ending it with him. It was all he could see through his teary eyes as a soft sob choked him while tears continued to fall and drip down his neck. 

Because you didn’t love him anymore, and you weren’t going to need him again and that fucking terrified him more than anything as he cried and fell back into his misery and wished that it was him kissing you, and wishing that you were here with him to catch him as he fell.

What if I’m down? What if I’m out? What if I'm someone you won’t talk about? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty || 11

Crowns and Robes.

Anastasia’s pov 

At some point along the long drive, I dozed off to the sound of Harry softly humming to the radio while attempting to get a hold of someone on his phone. I’m not sure who he was calling, I remember him asking me if I was okay, and as far as I know, I hummed a response. 

I am fine; I am not going to fall off the deep end and swiftly become deranged. I don’t understand the circumstances that have happened in the last few months, I never imagined that this is what being Royal would be like. My parents didn’t prepare me for any of this, I don’t think anyone could have equipped me for these trials of royalty. 

I am incredibly fatigued, sleeping without Harry and not knowing where he has been stressing me out, along with being unsure of my father and his mayhem. Now, I have Victoria’s corpse imprinted in my memory every time I close my eyes. I don’t want to shut my eyes and envision everything, but I am so exhausted that I have no choice. I closed my eyes just for a moment while Harry drove and I was in and out of sleep the rest of the ride. 

I briefly remember Harry waking me up and whispering in my ear that he couldn’t carry me, I had no real clue where we were, but all I remember is falling back asleep as soon as I had a soft place to fall. 

I breathe in the scent of clean sheets and I pull the covers further up my body while I open my eyes in an attempt to grasp my bearings. “Harry?” His name falls sleepily from my lips while I sit up, the room still blacked out from the curtains. 

“Go back to sleep,” Harry mumbles, tugging at the covers, “At my Mum’s, you’re fine,” Harry assures me, getting comfortable in the bed. 

I don’t think he understands that just because he claims that we are safe, it doesn’t mean I’m going to believe it at this point. 

I tilt my head to the side and watch the slight ray of sunshine slowly peek its way through the curtains while I think about the last few hours that have transpired. 

I can’t help but continue to remember walking away from Harry. I should have listened to him and stayed with him and Matthew, maybe then I wouldn’t have had to discover Victoria.

I remember I was walking along the stones, following the path when I was momentarily sidetracked by this scent that made me sick to my stomach, I thought nothing of it. I figured it was just a rodent or some sort of explanation that wasn’t a dead body. I fell over her body, quite literally, and the thought of remembering the incident causes my stomach to stir. 

With every day that passes, I become more and more aware of the fact that my father is immoral. I’m not sure what he has managed to get into, but whatever it is, it’s not good. Ultimately, I’m paying the consequences of his actions and decisions. I can’t blame him for everything, with us being royal, we are always at risk, but recently, it seems like we are at a higher risk, thanks to him. 

I benevolently shake Harry, being cautious not to touch his painful shoulder, Harry mumbles something inaudible against his pillow before lifting his head, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Harry sleepily asks, leisurely sitting himself up, his right hand beginning to reach to his side table. 

“You don’t need the gun,” I inform him, noticing what he is reaching for. I think it is a force of habit for him, he never really knows why I could be waking him, with all the dangerous events and evacuations, I don’t blame him for stretching for it while half asleep, unaware as to why I am waking him. 

Harry hums, “Then why the fuck am I awake?” He grumbles, not too pleased. 

“Do, do you think my Dad is losing it?” 

“What?” Harry asks, seeming a little confused. 

“Do you think he is losing the plot? Going senile? Literally going mentally insane?” It could make sense for him to be losing his mind.  

Senility can produce changes in mental health, such as memory loss or a decline in judgment. His judgment certainly hasn’t been the best when it comes to things, he put me in jeopardy when we went to Greece, he put us all in danger, he is angry all of the time and has acted out, firing a lot of the staff— He isn’t the Father I remember, he has been on a steady decline ever since he started to talk about handing me the crown, once he told the whole of Britain that he was hoping to hand things down to me by the end of the year, everything steadily got worse. personality or behaviour changes are another symptom but the only issue is that he is too young to be going senile, he is only fifty, surely he isn’t old enough to be going senile. Maybe he is clinically insane? Maybe I am clinically insane at this point, I feel like I am going insane. 

Harry blankly stares at me for a few moments, silence crowding the room. 

Harry shakes his head and lies back down, “Goodnight, Anastasia.” 

“Harry—”

“Go to sleep,” Harry mumbles, drawing the covers back up his body and becoming comfortable between the sheets. 

I heavily sigh and move my body closer to his, trying to get as close as possible without bothering him hurting him. Harry doesn’t speak, instead, he opens his arm and enables me to move closer, allowing him to settle his arm around me while I relax on his good shoulder. 

I listen to the melodious breaths of Harry while he falls asleep. I gaze up at the ceiling, trying to think of a logical solution for everything that has been occurring. 

Perhaps my Father is going senile. Perhaps my Father just has a lot of enemies. 

Perhaps the monarch is turning against my Father. 

Perhaps all of this is happening without logical explanations. 

Perhaps I need to find a way to pass the crown to someone else.

♔♔♔ ♔♔♔

Through the night, I was in and out of sleep, so was Harry, I could feel him shuffling around in the bed, trying to get comfortable and groaning every so often. Sleeping doesn’t come to me easily now, last night I was concerned about my father, I do not know where exactly he is or if he is okay. I genuinely think he is starting to lose his mind, it would explain his shift in behaviours. One minute he’s trying to marry me off and the next minute he’s angry at the world.  

I shift the covers around my body and groan, a desire to stay in bed overcoming me sharply as I gradually wake up to the sound of an unfamiliar voice down the hallway, “I heard there’s a princess, I want to meet her.” 

“Gemma, shh,” Harry hushes her, “She’s asleep, go away. You’re not following me in here,” Harry continues, doing his best to whisper but failing. 

I chuckle to myself as the door opens, “Damnit, Gemma, piss off,” Harry again mutters, pushing her arm away from the doorframe and closing the door behind him. 

Harry glances over at me and smiles, “I’m sorry, she’s uh— she wants to meet you.” 

“She wants to meet a princess.” I correct him. 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “She doesn’t mean that in a bad way; she means no disrespect.” 

I sit up in the bed and shrug my shoulders, “Is ‘she’ your sister or?” I ask, unsure of who is summoning me and wanting to meet me. I know Harry has a sister, I have never met her so I can only assume the woman eager to meet me in the hallways’ is no other than his sister. 

Harry nods his head, “Yes, my sister who seems to have a problem with boundaries.” 

“Well,” I chuckle, pulling the covers towards my shoulders, “She sounds lovely.” 

“She’s a pest,” Harry responds, “But, she did bring some clothes for you,” Harry places a pair of leggings and a long sweater on the bed, “Mum bought some clothes while we were asleep for you to go through, probably warmer than this,” Harry holds up the white sweater. 

“I am sure it is fine,” I assure him, appreciative that his mother and sister were both kind enough to take into consideration that I have no clothes besides what I left London in. 

When I was woken up by Harry, I had no clue that we would be evacuating and I would have nothing besides the clothes on my back and my phone. 

“It’s a bit crisp this morning.”

“Says the person who isn’t wearing a shirt,” I point out. 

“Do you know how painful it is to put a shirt on without help? It was easier to just throw on the bloody sling and sweatpants. Should let my mother shop for me more, these are comfortable,” Harry gestures towards his pants, causing me to raise a brow. 

I can’t deny the fact that if it wasn’t for his damn shoulder, I’d gradually make my way closer to him, and allow my hands to flow across his shoulders before travelling themselves down his chest, where my thoughts would become entangled with only one—him.

My hands would examine the texture of his body, moderately working their way past his abs, and then my fingers would sweep across his V-line in a teasing matter where his sweatpants would fall to his ankles. 

I cock my head to the side, admiring the way his hair has been brushed but still appears rumpled, he has his sun-kissed tan from the summer and his few tattoos seem to catch my attention this morning. 

He has the body of a faultlessly chiselled sculpture and it’s destroying me in all ways. 

“Do I even want to ask what you’re thinking about?” Harry distracts me from my stare. 

I bite my lip and gaze up at him, trying my best to conceal my smirk. 

Harry clears his throat and begins to step around to my side, “You have that look.” 

“What look?” I innocently inquire. 

Harry leans down and kisses my lips sweetly, “The look where you want to make love,” Harry whispers, drawing away from my lips and enticing me further. 

“Why must you always say ‘make love’?” 

“Because fucking the princess just isn’t as romantic.” Harry outright responds, “Not very respectful.” 

“Whatever,” I roll my eyes, “Soooo…” I trail off with a grin. 

Harry sighs and shakes his head, “I can’t, Anna.” 

“How many times will you deny me until you give in? Talk about playing hard to get,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. 

I have lost count how many times I have been denied.

“I hate to break it to you, but you do realise I fucked my shoulder and can barely move it after carrying you last night?” 

“I had a better chance of getting anything out of you while you were on morphine.” I laugh, playfully teasing him.

Harry chuckles, “Probably,” he nods, “Believe me, I wish I still had my morphine.” 

“Mhm, change the subject, sounds about right.” 

“Spoilt.” Harry laughs, delighted by the fact I’m still sexually frustrated. 

I raise a brow at him, “Spoilt? Me? How? You haven’t touched me in quite some time.” 

“Anna… baby…” Harry sighs, “How about tonight?” 

“Last time I heard that, you ended up hurt and I was shoved in a bloody pantry thing, hiding from people who wanted to kill me, soooo.” I trail off, reminding him of the last time those words left his strawberry-red lips.

“I promise, tonight.” 

“I’ll be pissed if I’m shoved in a pantry.”

Harry smiles, “Nothing bad will happen, you won’t be shoved into pantries and your life won’t be on the line.” 

I grin at Harry and nod my head, agreeing that tonight will work, as long as nothing negative happens by then. 

“Mhm,” I hum, “Whatever you say,” I respond just as the door to the bedroom opens. 

Harry glances over his shoulder towards the door where his sister, I assume, stands, leaning on the doorframe with an angelic smile while locks of chestnut-brown hair curtain her face.

“Do I need to cutesy?” Gemma questions under her breath, staring at me half a smile painted across her lips. 

“Yes,” Harry responds with a smirk, watching his sister do her very best at curtsying to me. 

I raise a brow towards Harry before I shake my head, “No, I’m just Anastasia, I’m not a princess while I’m here,” I smile at her, not wanting anyone to treat me and different than what they would a normal civilian. I don’t expect them to curtsy to me or refer to me as ‘Princess,’ I expect nothing besides kindness, and that is what I have been shown so far. “He is just being a jerk,” I assure his sister. 

His sister nods her head, “It’s what he does best. I’m Gemma, his sister.” 

“Yes, this is my sister, who is very kindly interrupting,” Harry interjects as he pulls his phone from his pocket, “You at least could have knocked.” 

Gemma shrugs her shoulders and walks past Harry, not caring about his comments, “If you need any clothes, just let me know. I don’t know what Mum picked out but if you need anything, just ask.” 

“I need you to leave,” Harry smiles, and again, Gemma ignores him, entirely brushing him off and sorting through the clothes Harry placed on the bed from their mother. 

“Thank you, Gemma,” I appreciate her being kind. She doesn’t have to be nice to me and offer me her clothes, quite honestly, she doesn’t have to do anything for me, this is the first time she has met me. She has every reason to be standoffish with me. “I’m going to make coffee,” I push the covers of the sheets off my body, “Give you two time to catch up,” I wink towards Harry, well aware that he doesn’t get to see his family too often, I think it is best to give them some time, even if it is just a few minutes while I make coffee. 

♔♔♔

I walk down the hallway with two cups of coffee in my hands, making my way towards Harry’s childhood bedroom. The last time I tried to make our coffee, it did not go nearly as smoothly as it did this time. Not that it is a very big achievement, but I smile to myself, quite pleased with how my coffee turned out, even if it is a simple task. Making coffee in the palace is not something that I do, I never get the chance to— it is all done for me. I know how privileged and spoilt it makes me sound, but in all fairness, I would change things if I could. I want to be able to do mundane things such as making coffee and washing linens. 

“So, can you tell me what happened and why you’re up here?” Harry’s sister challenges him just as I stop outside the door.

“I could, but then I’d have to kill you.” 

“It can’t be that serious,” she scoffs. 

“Drop it,” Harry warns sternly, in a way I’d never expect him to act towards his sister. 

“You’re such a hardass, don’t forget you used to chase butterflies in the garden as a kid.” 

“I don’t pry about your job, don’t pry about mine.” 

“That’s because you’re an ass and never ask me about my job… not that it’s very interesting compared to yours.” 

“You think keeping your wife alive is interesting?” Harry snaps unhappily.

“Well, she isn’t your wife yet, but yes. Seems like the palace life is interesting… Speaking of which, Harry, are you sure you want this?” Gemma asks, causing my heart to sink in my chest. She doesn’t sound like she approves of our relationship. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Are you sure you want to marry into the royal family? It’s a big fucking deal… Putting aside all the shit I don’t know and the danger you’re currently in, do you realise how much work being a royal is? Your life will never be the same again.” 

“There’s a reason we are keeping it quiet. I love her, I want to be with her, I don’t care about the royal family and the monarchy narrative, I care about her.” 

“You have to care about the monarch because you’ll be a part of it, Harry. She won’t choose you over the crown, she can't hand it off to someone else. You won’t be normal.” Gemma explains the things that I have already tried to explain to Harry before. He is aware things aren’t normal. 

“I don’t want her to choose me over the crown, I’ve accepted she has major responsibilities, I know what I’m getting into, Gemma. I don’t need you to tell me what I’m getting into, I see it every day, you just read about it in history books and on social media.” 

“I’m making sure you understand that this isn’t going to be easy. You won’t work, you will do royal duties, is that what you want? You should be working towards being the president of operations, not suddenly becoming royalty.” 

“I’m aware. I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions. I can still work security, I don’t want Matthew’s job right now. I’m marrying her, if you don’t like it then that’s just too bad. I’m not here for your approval, quite frankly I’m not here at all for you.” 

“There you go being an arse.”

“You bring out the asshole in me when you act like I’m not capable of making decisions. I’m your little brother, I get it, but I thought you of all people would be more accepting. I expected mum to be the one to convince me not to marry her, instead, mum's the one who encouraged me to propose. I had my doubts, I know I’m not good enough for her, she deserves Prince Charming and I’m just some guy from the country-side who became her security… but damnit I try every day to be the man she needs, so do me a favour and at least pretend to like her until we leave.” 

“I do like her, Harry.” 

“Then this conversation doesn’t need to go any further,” Harry dismisses her and I let out a breath. 

I should have walked away when I heard them talking, I shouldn’t have listened in to the conversation because now I don’t know how I feel about everything.

If his sister doesn’t have faith in us then who the fuck will? 

“I have coffee,” I announce, pretending like I didn’t hear them as I step into the bedroom and hand Harry his coffee. 

Harry kisses my cheek and takes the cup from my hand, wasting no time with taking a sip, “Much better than last time,” Harry grins. 

“I’ll leave you two to settle in, I have some sewing to do,” Gemma excuses herself politely, standing up from her position on the bed and walking out without saying anything further. 

I look towards Harry, wanting to question things but there is a time and a place, right now isn’t the right time. I can’t start something at this hour of the morning, I don’t want to start our day on a shitty note. 

♔♔♔ ♔♔♔

Harry grins at me while he launches a blanket towards me and makes his way towards the open fireplace that has been roaring since sunset. He pokes the logs a little before adding the last log to the fire, ambers crackling and disbursing in their brilliant colours of red and apricot. 

He comes closer to me and kisses my cheek before falling beside me and getting comfortable, his hand making sure to move the blanket so I’m covered and warm. “Have you found a dress you like, love?” 

I shake my head and hand him my tea, “No, it’s hard when I need to try them on,” I answer. 

Just because it seems good online it doesn’t mean it’ll look good in person, wedding dress shopping without a boutique is harder than one would think. “Starting to wonder if we should just get married at the courthouse.” 

Harry shakes his head immediately, “No, you deserve the dress of your dreams at the very least.” 

“Harry, I don’t need it… I just want to get married. We can go to the courthouse.” 

“Anna—“ 

“Jus’ think about it? Your Mum understands where I’m coming from.” 

“My mother agreed with you?” Harry raises a brow. 

“Can you just think about it?” 

“You want me to just take you to the courthouse?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

“You’d be happy to go to the courthouse right now and get married? No dress, no family, nothing?” Harry questions. 

“Yes.” 

Harry nods his head and sighs before standing to his feet, “I’m going to bed.” 

“Are you mad?” I question, watching as he begins to walk away, “Harry?” 

He turns and peers over at me, “No, are you coming to bed?” Harry questions while walking down the hallway, leaving me by myself in the living room.

I wander into his bedroom and close the door, “Are you seriously upset with me? You can’t just walk away from a conversation because you don’t—“ I begin to express my frustration with him walking away from me and the conversation about our wedding, but I’m swiftly cut off by his lips hitting mine and his body pushing me against the wall. 

He drags his mouth from my own and leaves sweet kisses down my jawline, moving to my neck, “Not mad,” he mumbles against my warm skin, causing my heart to skip a beat. 

His hand slips under my shirt and we begin to dance our way to the bed before he pushes me to fall to the bed.

Before anything more, Harry’s phone begins to ring, causing him to drag his mouth from my own, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Harry huffs, reaching over and grabbing his phone from the side table. “Hello?” Harry snaps in an unhappy tone, making it a point to show he has been inconvenienced. “Matthew, I’m busy right now, I can’t drive…. What? You’re out front already? Well, fuck, give me a few minutes to get dressed…” Harry hangs up the phone and looks at me. “Anna, I’m so sorry…” 

I shake my head and heavily sigh, “It’s fine. What’s happening?” 

Harry kisses my cheek before forcing himself off the bed and makes his way towards some of his clothes his Mum graciously bought him, “I have to work with Matthew.” 

“What do you mean?” I question, unsure of what Harry means. He shouldn’t be having to work, he’s on my service and there is nothing for him to do besides make sure I’m safe. My parents are in other places, so it isn’t as though he had to escort them anywhere. 

Harry’s hesitant to speak and takes a moment of silence to gather the right words to say, “We need to handle some stuff at Windsor and Buckingham.” 

“You’re driving back to London? I don’t think you should be driving at this hour.” 

Harry shakes his head, “Matthew is.” 

“Why though?” 

“Anastasia, you don’t want to know.” 

I shake my head and sigh, “I’d like to know. Seems suspicious to me.” I am not trying to start an argument by any means, I just want to know where he is going and why. With everything that has happened and how my world is entirely upside down, it makes me feel better to know what is going on instead of being left in he dark or being blindsided. 

“Anna, you make my job hard sometimes,” Harry mutters, “I have to go and help move Victoria.” 

“What?” My eyes grow wide while he does his best to pull on a sweater. 

“You heard me, I need to go move her,” he responds. 

I look at him, bewildered by the fact that he’s having to do such a thing, the sheer idea of him going back in the tunnels to her makes me uneasy. 

I flashback to what I saw in the tunnels and her lifeless body lying on the concrete. 

I don’t want to ask any more questions, I don’t need any more answers, nor do I want to know any. I don’t want to be apart of anything that has to do with Victoria right now. 

♔♔♔ ♔♔♔

I’m pulled from my slumber when Harry gently caresses his hand to my arm and kisses my cheek, “Hey, Baby,” Harry whispers, “I’m home.”

I gradually push myself up on my elbow, grasping my focus as Harry kisses my forehead, “Go back to sleep.” Harry adjusts the covers, drawing them more towards my side of my bed before placing a phone down on my side table, “Your new phone to call your parents off.” 

“Why do I need a new phone?” I tiredly question, unsure of why the old one that I have is being replaced. 

“Precautions to make sure it isn’t tapped and tracked, I will get rid of your old one when I wake up. Now, go back to sleep.” 

Ever since Harry left, I’ve been uneasy and sick to my stomach, I’m not sure what it is but even just hearing her name managed to unsettle me. I move to sit up against the pillows while Harry places his phone and wallet on the side table on my side as well, “Go to sleep, it’s four in the morning.” 

I shake my head and Harry sits down on the edge beside me, “Why? Are you having nightmares about everything?” He softly asks, remembering the last time I was up here and the fact Henry left me with nightmares the first night.  

“No… I’m not feeling too well.” 

Harry presses his hand to my forehead, “Well, no temperature. Do you want me to go get you anything?” 

“No, it’s okay,” I half-smile at him, “Get in bed, you’re probably exhausted.” 

Harry shakes his head, “Move forward a bit,” Harry instructs, gently pressing his hand to my back, “I’ll stay up with you,” he continues, beginning to rub soothing circles on my back. “Would you like tea or a heating pad?” 

“I’d like for life to settle down, Harry.” 

“I am doing my best to make it happen.”

“You can’t,” I sigh. 

There isn’t much that Harry can do to settle life and normalise things. None of this is his fault, my family issues do not stem from him, but I can’t help but continue to replay the conversation in my head that he has with his sister. 

Harry doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve inconsistency and scrutiny of things. He deserves a lovely girl who is normal, someone that will make sure dinner is on the table when he gets home from a long day at work and will pour him a drink to his liking. Harry deserves someone who isn’t in the spotlight of the world and who doesn’t need to be watched twenty-four-seven. Although I am aware that he does deserve better, the selfish part of me doesn’t want to care. 

Harry swears up and down this is what he wants and that he is aware of what he is getting into, but due to the current events, I don’t even know what I am getting into anymore. I don’t know what each day will hold, for all I know, by tomorrow morning I could be whisked off to America because there is suddenly another threat— things are unpredictable.

“Harry,” I begin with a soft voice, “Is this what you want?” 

“To be awake at this hour? No.” Harry shakes his head. 

I don’t think anyone wants to be awake at this hour.

“No,” I shake my head, “Us? Getting married and being apart of royalty.” 

Harry continues to rub my back, “I want to marry you, I thought that was pretty clear.” 

“But you do know it won’t be easy, right? You know that being married to a Queen will have disadvantages, right?” 

“I accepted that when you said you would not abdicate and refuse the crown. I want to marry you, where is all this coming from?” 

“If it came down to it, Harry, I would give up the crown for us, but right now I cannot. There is nobody to take it that is a good fit, the monarch would go into the hands of a distant cousin and I don’t want to risk that. I don’t want to risk us either, it is going to be hard, it won’t be easy, and… and you won’t have as much freedom, you deserve the life you want to live.” 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “Anna, did my sister say something to you?” Harry instantly questions. 

I shake my head, “No.” 

“You heard her conversation, didn’t you?” 

I don’t respond, I stay closed-lipped and allow the silence to penetrate the bedroom. “Shouldn’t eavesdrop, darling,” Harry heavily sighs before I feel him press a kiss to my shoulder, “I know what I am getting into, my sister overstepped her mark, I can make my decisions. I want to marry you, let’s get some sleep.” Harry continues, moving to kiss my cheek, “I love you, don’t forget that,” Harry adds, carefully moving beside me. 

“Just making sure this is what you want.” 

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” 

“You have no choice, you’re the bodyguard,” I chuckle. 

Harry shakes his head, “I don’t have to be in bed with you, and I don’t have to be planning a wedding. Don’t overthink it, ignore my sister. Your bodyguard is tired and would like to sleep.” Harry presses, pulling the covers over his body

♔♔♔

Harry’s POV

The rain has been falling heavily for the last hour, and it's almost like the heavens have ultimately decided to open up and they don’t want to close. 

I stare down at the steam emanating from my hot tea, my hands cupped around the edges, the heat radiating warmth through my body. 

I should be curled up in bed with the gracious covers around me and my beautiful partner beside me, asleep, instead, I’m perched at the kitchen table, staring into an abyss of a cup looking for answers that I’m sure I won’t be able to discover. Most people find answers at the bottom of a bottle, and I am almost at the point of finding a bottle of whiskey but I don’t think that will solve much. 

There are a few things I need to figure out.

Why Victoria is dead and why she was in the tunnels.

How long before Victoria is reported missing and whether she will be found.

How I explain things to Anastasia.

When will things go back to normal? 

If I could come up with a resolution for everything, perhaps life would be a little bit more indulgent, unfortunately, at some point, things became so hectic that I don’t have any answers. I think the next time I have a cup of coffee, I will need to add a shot of whiskey to it. I require something to help calm me down and soothe these damn questions that I can’t figure out. I feel as though I am attempting to piece together a puzzle that doesn’t have all the pieces. I am sure that the king has more pieces to this puzzle that he will not reveal just yet. 

I can’t begin to imagine how Anastasia feels, it lies heavily on my mind and I don’t know how to ask her how she is processing everything. Even if she does open up and tell me how she feels about the chaos, there isn’t much I can do besides console her and hold her. I am useless purely because I do not have answers for any of the questions that could be asked. I  know she will have questions, she always has questions. 

“Why do you look so glum?” My sister distracts me from my drowning thoughts. 

I glance up from my mug and discover my sister stepping closer, her hair thrown up in a bun and her sweater falling off her shoulder as she yawns. 

“I thought you moved out years ago?” 

She rolls her eyes at my comment, “Likewise… Some of us visit our mother and stay for a few days.” 

I don’t respond, I just take a sip of my tea, not wanting to banter with her at this hour. “So, why are you so glum? Where’s your princess?” 

I glare at my sister and she curls her lips up into a smirk. She’s doing this to purposely piss me off. 

As kids, we continuously took the piss out of each other and found ways to get under each other’s skin, and usually, I’d be all for our banter, but right now, I’m exhausted and I don’t want backhanded comments… especially when it comes to Anna who is on the direct path of an emotional breakdown. 

“Do you not like her or something?” I asked with irritation, unsure of where my sister stands when it comes to my relationship. 

Whether my sister likes her or not, it doesn’t change my decisions of marrying her, but I’d still like to know my sister’s thoughts. 

“I do,” my sister nods. 

“Then what is with the damn comments when it comes to my relationship.” 

My sister lifts her shoulders into a shrug, “Daddy Issues.” 

I roll my eyes and sigh, “You’re annoying. Dad treated you well…. daddy issues my fucking ass,” I shake my head at her, attempting not to laugh at her comment. 

Contrary to popular belief, we always got along with our father, he wasn’t the villain in our family story. Our parents went their separate ways but it wasn’t for any drastic reason like he was an asshole or cheated, no. 

Our parents outgrew each other and weren’t on the same path when it came to life— they had different goals and aspirations— they were perfect for each other until they weren’t. They served their purpose together and split ways civilly. They can see each other in the street and have a conversation, and they can see each other at family events pertaining to my sister and me, there’s no issue there. 

“I like her, I do, I just like to aggravate you. Can’t believe my little brother is in love.” 

“Mhm… Well, it would be nice if you were a little nicer to her. I know being nice isn’t apart of your personality, but she could use with nice people around her.” 

My sister isn’t the nicest of people sometimes, she is a hard person to read. My sister is highly sarcastic, sassy and very hard to get a grip on whether she likes you or not. There is a fine line between her liking you and disliking you— a fine line that is hard to distinguish. 

“I’m nice,” my sister defends, “I bought her clothes!” 

“Gemma…” I trail off, “She heard our conversation yesterday and thinks you don’t approve of her.” 

“Harry, that was me just looking out for you and making sure you know what you’re getting into. I read the news articles, I’ve read the biographies of past royals—“ 

“That’s different. I don’t care what you read and how you keep up with the history of the royals, but be nice to her, and don’t give her any doubts.” 

“She has doubts?” My sister questions.

I nod my head, “She heard our conversation and cried over it, so just keep your comments to a minimum.” 

“Is that why you’re so glum and seem like you’ve had your firstborn son taken from you?” 

I shake my head and leave my cup on the table before I bury my face into my hands and rub my face out of frustration and exhaustion. “I have a girl in there sleeping while her world is turned upside down. I haven’t slept because I had the privilege of moving a corpse, and if that isn’t enough, some of Anastasia’s jewellery was taken from Buckingham and I don’t know how to tell her.” 

“What kind of jewellery?” 

“Her expensive pieces and the ones I bought her. I don’t know how they took her stuff but didn’t manage to take the royal collections.” 

“Have you checked the pawn shops?” 

“Gemma,” I begin, “I haven’t had time to track down her jewellery, I was busy moving a fucking body.” 

“Are you going to tell her?” 

“I don’t want to… maybe? I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing. Starting to think running away with her is the best option.” 

In all honesty, life would be better off somewhere else, less drama. 

“Give me a list of items taken and I’ll find them. You should tell her, don’t have a closed-off communication, that will make things worse.” 

“What are you? Sherlock Holmes?” … “I don’t know if she can handle it, Gemma.”

I don’t want this to be what pushes her over the edge. 

“I have a few friends in the jewellery industry, just give me a list and we will see what we can do.” 

“Where were your jewellery friends when I was looking for a diamond ring?”  

“You never told me you were looking for a ring,” Gemma responds with a chuckle. 

She has a point, I did not tell my sister, sometimes I don’t confide in her all the time, she tends to come to me more than I go to her when it comes to things

“Mhm,” I hum, “I need you to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity or people around here. If anyone saw us moving the body, they’ll come for me or her family.”

“Oh, great, so we are at threat?” 

“Not you,” I shake my head. “Just me, her and her family. Nothing major,” I half-smile, trying not to scare my sister, “I’m going to go back to bed now and check on Anna,” I dismiss my sister before she can say anything in return. 

I walk down the hallway with my thoughts rattling my brain. 

How am I meant to tell her someone somehow stole some of her personal items? 

It is incredibly creepy that someone managed to get in her room. It had to have been done while we were away or after we had moved them into Windsor. I’m not sure how anyone can get into Buckingham and take her jewels, Buckingham is highly surveillance. 

I’m not sure what I’m meant to say to her, “Good morning, I love you… oh, and by the way, some of your jewellery was stolen.” — I don’t think that would be suitable for a morning wake up call. 

As my hand reaches for the doorknob of my old childhood bedroom, my phone rings. I heavily sigh and quickly grab it from the pocket of my sweatpants and quickly answer it, not wanting to wake Anastasia or my mother down the hallway. 

“Hello?” 

“Harry, my best pal,” Matthew cheers on the other end of the phone. 

I raise a brow, well aware that he’s trying to butter me up, “I saw you a few hours ago, what do you need?” 

“We need to have a bonding session.” 

“We bonded last night,” I respond, “I don’t think we need to bond,” I chuckle, walking towards the living room to pace the area without disturbing anyone. 

“I think we do.” 

“What needs to be done this time?” I sigh, unsure of what entails this bonding session. 

Surely it can’t be worse than last night. 

“We need to report to the king.” 

“He’s in the Netherlands,” I remind Matthew. 

“I’m aware, he needs us, we have things to take care of.” 

“What does this entail?” 

Matthew goes quiet before he clears his throat, “My engine light is flashing red like a code red sort of flashing, you should look at it. Come outside and look at it,” Matthew instructs, forcing me to read between the lines. 

Code red… code red… code red means the king needs us to do something under the radar that shouldn’t be spoken about over the phone or with anybody else. 

I hang up my phone and I walk my way to the front door. I take a break and I open the door to Matthew standing on the porch with an umbrella by his side. “Get your shit, we’re flying to the king.” Matthew bluntly instructs, not batting an eye with his instructions.

I heavily sigh, “Matthew, what do we have to do?” 

“I don’t know yet… but it isn’t pretty.” 

“Matthew, I physically can’t do any more dirty work, I can barely move my shoulder at this point,” I inform Matthew of the fact I’m not meant to be hauling dead bodies off and tampering with evidence to take the media attention away from the King and his family. 

I’m meant to still be on bed rest and taking it easy. I wish I was bedridden with morphine, this shit is getting to be too much to have to handle.

Matthew nods his head, “I understand, but this is important, code red sort of important, just like last night was a code red. Let’s go, you’ll be back tonight.” 

“Let me tell them I’m leaving,” I respond before stepping back inside the house. 

I find Gemma at the table with her iPad and a cup of coffee in her hand, her eyes gazing up towards me while I walk closer, “I need to go, tell mum I’ll be back tonight, be nice to Anastasia and tell mum to check the security systems, keep the doors locked.” 

“Do I need to be—“ 

“No,” I cut my sister off, “You don’t need to be concerned, just precautionary,” I respond, walking away from her before she can say anything. 

I step into my bedroom and walk closer to the bed, I sit on the edge beside Anastasia’s sleeping body. I gently press my hand to her arm, “Hey, sweetheart,” I whisper, slowly waking her up, “Hey, it’s just me,” I assure her as soon as her eyes open. 

“Harry,” she mumbles my name sleepily, causing me to smile. 

“I have to go, I’ll be back tonight, don’t worry though, you’re safe with Mum. Call me if you need me,” I lean down and kiss her forehead, “The gun is in the drawer beside you, Mum and my sister know what to do if anything happens, not that it will, just makin’ sure okay?” 

Anastasia hums her response and I adjust the covers for her and stand to my feet. Her hand wraps around my wrist and I look down at her, “Be careful, okay?”

I nod my head, “I will, I love you.” 

“Promise? I love you too.” 

“I promise,” I agree, giving her a small smile before taking my keys and wallet off the side table and stepping out of the bedroom. 

♔♔♔

I walk through the front door of my mother's house, more than thankful to finally be home. I feel the warmth wrap around my body and welcome me, and I couldn’t be happier. The flight home was fucking cold after we were stuck in the rain for a while, not to mention the drive from the airport to my mothers was just as miserable, Matthews rental car didn’t have heat, we both shivered and cussed the world for our problems. We tried to stop at the liquor store to find a bottle of whiskey to warm us up, but they were closed, we even tried to find a hotel but all hotels had no vacancy out here, so we suffered through the cold. 

I wander down the hallway and my mother stands to her feet from the couch, instantly coming to me, “You look like hell.” 

“Thanks, you’re so sweet,” I chuckle as she takes my shirt and jacket from my arm, “Mum, I can wash it and—“ 

She cuts me off, “Shut up,” my mother shakes her head checking to make sure the pockets are empty, “You’re cold, here grab a blanket,” my mother frets, stepping away and grabbing a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around me like a little kid. 

“Thanks, Mum,” I smile at her before I kiss her cheek. “I appreciate you, how was your day?” 

“Clearly better than yours,” My mum grins and I nod my head in agreement. I think most people have had a better day than I have. “I spent it inside reading and helping your sister sew, I don’t know why she wants to sew but she doesn’t need to be near my sewing machine,” my mother chuckles sweetly to herself. 

I can only imagine how it turned out with my sister sewing or attempting to sew. My sister is very talented but there are just some things she shouldn’t even try, sewing and most crafts are not one.

“I’d take teaching her to sew over what I had to do, any day.” 

“What did you have to do?” 

I shake my head, “I can’t talk about it, I’m not allowed to… maybe later I can tell you, just not right now,” I respond. 

My mother nods her head and shrugs, she knows there are some things better left unsaid, and today is one of them, “Anastasia has been quiet, slept most the day, I think something is wrong.” 

“Is she still unwell? I’ll check on her.” 

“She didn’t seem too well, but we did talk a little about the wedding. She is excited about it, by the way, but she hasn’t had a chance to try on dresses.” 

“I’ll take care of it, if it ever stops raining, I have a plan.” 

“And that is?” My mother questions curiously. 

“I’ll tell you more In the morning, goodnight, Mum.” I cheekily grin, folding up the blanket and placing it down before walking into the kitchen to make a tea. 

♔♔♔ 

I enter my bedroom and close the door behind me silently, just in case Anastasia is sound asleep. I observe Anna curled up in the bed, the comforter wrapped around her, “Hey,” she smiles tiredly towards me. 

“Hey, Mum said you still weren’t feeling well, thought I’d bring you a tea,” I hold up the mug, stepping closer to her and sitting on the edge of the bed beside her while she sits up. 

“Thanks, where have you been?” 

I grow withdrawn for a moment, unsure of what to tell her, I didn’t think of the cover story that I would tell her, it didn’t cross my mind. I have been too busy to thin about what to tell her.  “Harry?” She takes the cup from my hand and narrows her eyes down on me. 

“I’m not allowed to talk about.” 

“But…” 

“I was with your Dad, he says hi,” I inform her of her father’s request. The brief times I did manage to speak to him, he was insistent that I make sure I pass his message on, “He loves you and can’t wait to give you a hug.” 

“Sounds shady.” 

She isn't wrong, it is ALL shady; I would prefer to forget about the last few nights that have occurred.

“That’s because it is,” I nod my head, “It isn’t getting any better at this point.”

“I told you I think he’s losing his mind.” 

“I would be too if I had angry people coming after me,” I mutter, “But it's okay,” I quickly assure her, not wanting to scare her any further or cause her more stress. I am doing my best to destress her situations and fix things. 

Anastasia heavily sighs and rolls her eyes, “Is there a way to fix the mess he has created?” 

“Sort of.” 

“Then why don’t we do it?” 

“Anna—“ 

“Don’t leave me in the dark, Harry, it isn’t fair. I’m just as affected by this mess.” 

“You really don’t want to know my solution.” 

“Why? Why are we not going ahead with the solution.” 

“It’s highly illegal.” 

“I’m not sure I understand.” 

“Anastasia… How do you deal with people who have too much power, such as those in the mafia or with affiliations with the mafia?” 

“I don’t know, Harry. Stop cat and mousing me, tell me your plan.” Anna snaps before pressing her fingers to her temple and rubbing her temple. 

I wish I could fix things for her and give her a normal life. I am doing my best but right now, I am failing. 

I sigh as she takes a sip of her tea, “Anna… fight fire with fire…” 

Her eyes burn with hatred as she glares towards me, her lips screwed into irritation, “You’re being annoying.” 

“Jus’ don’t worry about it, okay?” I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Let me handle it.” 

“I don’t like how you’re handling it.” 

“Well, I am sorry. How are you feeling?” 

“You’re changing the subject,” Anastasia is prompt to point out the obvious. 

There are some things that are better left unsaid. Where I was and what I was doing is best unknown at the moment. 

“What happened to you? What’s on your shirt?” Anastasia leans forward and presses her hand to my shirt, looking closely. 

I look down and grab the white material between my fingers, stretching it so I can what Anna is looking at.

Fuck. 

“Oh, Matthew accidentally cut himself trying to open a box and I guess he got his blood on me, no big deal,” I lie straight to her face, beginning to unbutton my shirt, wasting no time with sliding it down my arms as I stand to my feet. 

“Do you want to lie to me again?”

“No, but I need to talk to you about something, some of your jewellery has been taken.” 

Anastasia doesn’t respond and I turn to gaze at her over my shoulder, “Anna?” 

“I heard you. There’s nothing I can do, it is just jewellery.” 

“I will get it back for you, I will do my best, darling, I promise.” 

“You got mail, it is on the dresser over there,” Anastasia points to the dresser and I step closer to it, taking the envelopes in my hand. 

“These are for you,” I inform her, looking down at the envelopes that seem familiar, they’re dressed as they would be If they were going to the palace for her to read and reply back with, but there is something odd about the envelopes, they’re all the same with the same handwriting but one is addressed to me. “Where did you get these?” 

“Your sister said they were in the mail, I haven’t opened it, I assumed mine were letters from the public for me to read and reply to, I just haven’t had the energy to do it.” 

“No, but how did they get here?” 

“I am guessing my carrier, Harry,” Anastasia responds, “How else would they get here? Throw me mine so I know whether I need to reply to them.” 

I shake my head, flipping the letters over and seeing that there is no return address, “Baby, these aren’t forwarded from the Palace,” I inform her, placing hers back down on the dresser and sliding my finger through the edge of the one addressed to me. 

“How do you know?” 

“I didn’t give the Palace a forwarding address for your mail.”

“Why not? I still have duties to attend to.” 

“First of all, you’re sick and don’t need to be worrying about it, second of all, it isn’t safe to have mail forwarded because then people will know where you are.” 

“You don’t need to tell me what I need to be worrying about,” Anastasia responds, not too pleased with my comment. 

“Okay,” I sigh, “Fair point, I was out of line, but nobody needs to know where you are right now,” I return, unfolding my letter and opening it up to read what it says. 

“I know about you and Anastasia, you can run but you can’t hide.” 

I take a breath and fold the letter back up, grabbing Anastasia’s as well in my hand. “What are the letters for?” 

I rub a hand over my dark stubble before shaking my head, “Nothing, I’m going to take a shower.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with my father.” 

“What?” I question as Anastasia pushes the covers off her body and gets out of bed. 

“You heard me, you’re acting just as shady as he is, and quite honestly, I don’t like it.” 

“You’re paranoid, go back to bed,” I respond, stepping into the bathroom and flicking the light on, only for Anastasia to follow me. “Are you joining me in the shower?” I raise a brow cheekily, attempting to distract her from the argument she is most likely ready to create— she has a valid reason for being irritated and wanting answers, but I don’t need her to worry. I don’t want her to be consumed even further by what is happening or by what could happen. 

I am trying my best to protect her from the shit show that is currently going on, she has dealt with more than enough and at this point, I am going to do everything that I can to not push her over the fucking edge. I know she is close to the edge and I will be damned if she goes over it. 

“I don’t think I am paranoid, Harry. I don’t like this. Why can’t you be honest with me?” Anastasia questions while I turn the knob to begin the water to heat up. 

I turn to face her and I step closer to her, “I am being honest, believe me when I say there are some things better left unknown, please don’t make this harder than what it already is.” 

Anastasia pulls her hand away from my own and stares at me relentlessly, “Seems like everything is left unknown until it boils into something bad that can’t be hidden.” 

I nod my head, “What is it you want to know?” 

“Where were you?” 

“With your Father. We had to have a private conversation, can I have my shower now?” 

“This conversation isn’t over,” Anastasia dismisses me and I heavily sigh as she storms out of the bathroom. 

This is bound to be an interesting night. Just when I thought that things could possibly settle down, I now have to face her. I lean on the vanity and stare into the mirror, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to think things through in a way that won’t destroy her.  

I am not sure how to explain the mail, unfortunately, this isn’t the first letter I have received in the last month or so, I don’t think it will be the last, but I do know that it seems like whoever is sending these letters knows my every move. Nobody knows that we are here beside her parents and Matthew, the new guy doesn't even know, Matthew put him on paid leave until we need him. The only thing I can think of is someone within the palace staff has managed to figure things out and is trying to leak information… I highly doubt her parents would be behind the letters, although that would be a plot twist, I can’t say that it wouldn’t be something that could happen, after all, nothing seems to be off the table at this point. It is time I tell Matthew about the mail I have been receiving, and it is time for us to come up with a plan to figure out who is behind it all. At first, I didn’t think much of it all, but now with them sending things to my mother's house, it shows they are watching me- they’re watching Anna. 

I pick up the envelope with Anastasia’s name on the front of it and I open it, holding my breath with every inch of the paper that rips between my fingers. I take the piece of paper out, slowly unfolding it before I read the ink scribbled on the paper. 

“I know about you and Harry… It will all be revealed soon. Stay alert, Princess, you’re next.”

I fold the letter back up and I place it in the envelope, not wanting to even see what the other one says. I believe these are empty threats by someone bored and lonely, probably a normal civilian, but at the same time, there is a part of me that is concerned it is one of the people who Is after her father. They’re not going to stop until the Ace’s get what they want and the King refuses to give up his power and money to them. He has paid his dues and that isn’t enough for that money-hungry family. 

It could be Henry, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he is the one behind this, but I have this feeling the reasons for his previous behaviours weren't based on his logical thinking but more so his mothers. I think his mother was behind a lot of his erratic and psychotic behaviour, I think his mother is the true evil one. I am not remorseful that she is no longer living, quite honestly, it was just a matter of time before she did more damage to Anastasia’s family. Anna doesn’t know this, but I have been watching Victoria from the moment I met her at the Garden party. On my off days, I would do my best to follow her in an attempt to figure her out, she didn’t do many things out of the ordinary, but there were a few red flags that I did take note off, none of which were enough to build too much against her in such a short time. Matthew did his best to keep track of Henry and Victoria and the one thing we can’t seem to figure out is… Who is Henry’s father? 

There is no name attached to the man that the King was talking to, there was never a man around at the Garden event that introduced himself as Henry’s father. I have tried to look up birth certificates but I can’t find Henry’s, I can’t even find Victoria’s marriage certificate. 

I push away from the vanity and take my suit pants off, dropping my clothes to the floor before getting in the shower. The steaming hot water hits my body and I feel a sense of stress leaving my body for a brief moment. My body isn’t cold and shivering and all the negative things that I have dealt with in the last two days are washing down the drain, hopefully, to never return. 

My shower wasn’t as peaceful as I had hoped, my thoughts kept reminding me of everything happening, almost to the point I wish I had an excuse to call the nurse for more morphine, although my shoulder is still painful, there is no way the King or Matthew will allow me to sleep peacefully with morphine and no pain and no worries. Oh, how I took it for granted to be able to sleep all day and not deal with the issues happening in the Royal world. 

I step out of the shower and Anastasia is leaning on the doorframe with a blanket wrapped around her body, I raise a brow but I do not say anything as she watches me reach for my towel and wrap it around my lower body. From the way her lips are pressed firmly together and the way her eyes watch my every move, she isn’t watching me because she finds me charming and good looking, no, she is watching me because she has things to say or she is trying to read me in an attempt to figure shit out. 

I shuffle closer to her and press a kiss to her cheek as I slide past her, still not saying a word. I step towards the clothes my mother bought me and I pull out a clean pair of sweatpants, wasting no time with pulling them up my legs before running the towel through my hair to dry it briefly. I place the towel in the hamper and glance over to Anastasia who has her arms crossed over her chest. “How’d you get the blood on your white shirt? That is going to be hard to get out.” Anastasia gestures towards the shirt I let fall to the floor before I went into the bathroom. 

I heavily sigh as I pick it up from the floor, “I told you.” 

“That was a lie, you and I know that.” 

“Anastasia, please don’t,” I shake my head. I don’t want to explain today to her. 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

“Please, don’t be mad with me, it is for your own-“ 

Anastasia rolls her eyes, “Jus’ don’t worry about it,” Anastasia cuts me off, “I hope you’re not turning into my father, I really don’t.” Anastasia informs me as she walks into the bathroom. 

“Anna, don’t be angry with me,” I slump my shoulders as she closes the door. 

I fall to the edge of the bed and run my fingers through my hair. I have fucked up with not telling her, I do not blame her for being upset, but as I have said, it is for her safety. I am not sure who I am attempting to convince more, myself or her. 

It is hard to draw a line between my job and being her partner, sometimes there isn’t even a line, sometimes I have to choose which one I want to take the role of. 

After a few minutes of staring at the bathroom door, waiting for her to exit, I force myself to my feet and walk to the door, I knock on the door, “Anna? I know you’re mad but you don’t need to lock yourself in the bathroom.” … “Anna? Are you okay?” I question, getting no response before I take it upon myself to open the door. 

I see Anastasia resting on the floor with her back against the bathtub, “The world doesn’t revolve around you,” she half chuckles, “Do you really think I would lock myself in here because I am mad?” 

“Well… I-, I I am an idiot, we know this already… You okay?” 

“I have never been better, I mean, after all, I have no clue what is happening with anything, I fell over a dead body, I have been whisked away from my home indefinitely because people are after my father, and to top it off, my soon to be husband is acting weird and shady.” 

“I meant how you felt.” 

Anastasia simply shakes her head and I sit down beside her, I slip my arm around her lower back and she rests her head on my shoulder, “Not trying to argue with you, or be mad with you, Harry.” Anastasia softly whispers, “I just hate all of this. I don’t want you to be like Dad.”

“I know, baby, I know,” I nod my head even though she can’t see me. “I do too. I am not your Dad. I just work for him and take his orders.” 

“Are we going to get through all of this, Harry?” 

“We will, it’ll all be okay,” I assure her, attempting to comfort her even though I don’t know what’ll happen next. I can’t tell her that it’ll be smooth sailing from here because I don’t know if it will, but I do know that she and I will be okay. 

“You’re not going to want to leave?” 

“Of course not, nothing your father causes will make me want to leave. I’m here for the long haul, I’m here to hold your hair when you’re sick, even if you’re mad at me,” I inform her and she gently nudges me. 

“I’m not mad,” she mumbles. 

I’m here to be a shoulder you can cry on, I’m here for it all. I’m here for all the good times and the bad times, I’m here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m in this completely. I hate that you’re doubting me though.” 

“Everything is just a mess.” 

“It’ll all be okay, do you want to get in bed? It’s a bit warmer than these cold tiles.” 

“No, I feel sick.” 

“Okay, we will stay here,” I respond, kissing the top of her head. 

“You can go to bed, I’ll be fine.”

“And what fun will that be? Won’t have you to steal the covers,” I half-heartedly joke with her, trying my best to lighten the mood. “Plus, when the wife says to go back to bed, you never go back to bed, it’s a catch. Never leave the wife when she’s unwell.” 

“You left me today.” 

“I had to and you were asleep.” 

“Left your sick fiancé to see my father.” 

“Your father pays my bills,” I respond with a small laugh. 

“Mhm,” Anastasia hums, “Do you love me enough to go to the store and get me anti-nausea meds? this is horrible.” 

“I would, but everything closes out here at ten. We can call your royal doctor, she has all sorts of great meds.” 

“You really love her, don’t ye’?” Anastasia finally manages to giggle, “Must have been some strong stuff,” she nudges me playfully. 

“The best sleep of my life, she had me feeling great for the first two days. Then reality hit.” 

“I don’t want to bother her, she’ll have to drive up here and it’s too much of a hassle.” … “I’ll survive. So… will you tell me what’s in those envelopes up there?” 

“Nope.” I honestly respond. 

“Nothing is stopping me from getting up and grabbing them.” 

“You don’t have the energy for that, if you did, you’d have done it already.” 

“Fair point,” Anastasia agrees, “I’m sorry about earlier and throwing a fit.” 

“You have every right to feel how you do and want answers, but it’s in your best interest not to know them, it’ll stress you out, I rather if you let me stress over it instead, okay?” 

“It’s hard. Harry. I feel like everything is crumbling around me. I can handle it, I don’t need to be protected.” 

“It is crumbling, I won’t lie, it is a shit show.” 

“Way to go in being comforting.” 

“I won’t lie to you about it, everything is crumbling around us but at the end of the day, you’re safe, your parents are safe and it’ll all be okay.” 

“You keep saying that… who are you trying to convince? You or myself?” 

“Both,” I respond in all honesty. “Love, I want us to have an open communication, I don’t want us to hide things.”  

“Well, that is a little far fetched considering your job, darling,” Anastasia points out. 

I can’t say she is wrong, she has a valid point, but she is missing what I am trying to say, “I do my best to communicate, I only hide things when I need too,” … “Not that it makes it any better, I just-, I want you to know I am doing my best with balancing both and I am not trying to hide things, I just have to sometimes…” 

“Shhh, I know, quit fretting, I get it, I do. It is frustrating, but I understand, I just had a moment earlier, Harry. No need to keep worrying over it.” 

I let out a breath of relief and hold her a little closer to me, grateful that we have the sort of relationship where we can talk things out, we might get mad, but we don’t give up, we come to terms with things, we consider each other’s feelings and we get through it. 

“Harry, we do need to talk about our marriage though.” 

“What about it?” 

“How it will affect you… Harry, I will be Queen within the next year, my father wanted to hand it over by the end of the year, December isn’t too far off, I don’t know whether he still will pass it down but if he does, your life changes unless we continue to keep it quiet.” 

“Well, since Henry isn’t married to you, I don’t think you will be becoming Queen. The whole point was for Henry to gain a higher title than what he already has. And, if you do become Queen, we will cross that bridge when we get there, I think we should hold off going public, but your family should at least know.” 

“You okay with just taking it day-by-day to see what happens with the crown?” 

I’m not sure why she has so many doubts when I have done my best to reassure her, I can only thank my sister for this one. Anastasia wasn’t this doubtful until meeting my sister. 

“Of course,” I nod my head, “But, do I get to wear a crown and a robe like they do in movies?” 

“What the fuck kind of movies do you watch? No, Harry. You don’t get to walk around with a crown and a cape. Do I walk around with a crown on?” Anastasia questions. 

“No… You never wear a tiara, why?” 

"Single ladies don't typically wear tiaras unless they are born into the Royal Family as a princess. Tiaras are not worn before 6 p.m.. They are worn on formal white tie events and state occasions such as state banquets. For the most part, I have skipped these events up until the last two years, which, my mother and father have not given me a tiara to wear… Once I am married or Queen, I will wear one or I can wear a crown.” Anastasia informs me on the etiquette of crowns and tiaras. I don’t know the difference between the two, and due to not wanting to sound like a moron, I don’t want to ask her what the difference is. 

“So… I don’t get a crown?” I curiously question. 

I don’t give a flying fuck on whether I am entitled to wear a crown or not. I’m not in this for the family jewels, the crowns, estates or anything. Quite frankly, none of that means a bloody thing to me, I’m in this for Anna. 

“You can wear a gold coronet.”

I gasp, “I don’t want a knockoff crown.” I respond, unsure of what a coronet is, but it sounds close enough to a crown. I can only assume it’s a step down from a crown. 

“Fine,” Anna chuckles, “I will bestow upon you a crown you can wear. I am sure there is one in the family, we have many jewels and crowns.” 

“Great, and can I also require a robe?” 

Anna laughs, “Don’t push your luck.”

“Can I have my own crown?” 

“For my coronation, the royal jeweller can make you your bloody crown.” 

“They should match, somehow… You know?” 

I wonder how long she’ll keep this conversation with me, I don’t mean any of it, like I’ve said, I don’t give a rats ass about the crown, I’m currently trying to keep her occupied in an attempt to make her feel better. 

“I love how you’re more interested in your crown than the fact you will have a lot of power.” 

“How will I have power?” 

I have enough power as it is, any more and it might get to my head. 

“Sweetheart, everyone will have to curtsey to you… Every member of the royal family will have to bow or curtsy to you…. But the future Queen thinks it’s time for bed, sitting on this cold floor isn’t going to cut it.” 

I stand to my feet and offer my hand to help her up, she presses her hand with my own and I gently pull her to her feet, “I do have another question though regarding the royal ways,” I begin. 

“Mhm,” Anna hums as we begin to walk out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. 

“If we were to have kids…. How do we raise them?” 

“Already anticipating children?” 

“No, you mentioned while I was carrying you out of the tunnel that we weren’t having kids, but if we do… do we have to raise them royally?” 

“Uhm….” Anastasia pauses to think for a moment, looking over at me, “We will decide how we raise our children, I will leave the monarch before I allow them to tell me what to do with our hypothetical children. If I’m Queen, I call the shots.” 

“Mhm…. And will they be raised in a royal way? Will they have a title?”

“Unless we choose otherwise…. I don’t know if I want kids to have to go through what I have as a royal. I wouldn’t strip them of their title but I don’t know… it’s something to think about after we are married, we’ve barely managed that yet.” … “Let’s just go to bed,” Anastasia smiles over at me and I nod my head with a smile. 

I’m more than happy to get in bed and fall between the sheets with her beside me, but I am distracted by my phone vibrating against the side table. I walk over to it and read the messages on my screen, “I’ll be back in a minute,” I inform Anna before I step out of the bedroom and walk down the hallway to the front door. 

I open the front door and stare at Matthew, “Look, Matthew, if you want me to leave again, I’m not, I haven’t slept much in the last 48 hours, Anna’s sick and I’m not going to—“ 

“Relax,” Matthew interrupts me, “I’m not on your doorstep for another job, I’m here to tell you I’m patrolling the house and watching so you can relax.” 

“Oh.” 

“But I’m glad you’re defensive and don’t want to leave your girlfriend while she’s sick, it’s kinda cute when you’re not the dick of a security guard.” 

“Knock it off, you’re making me sound soft.” 

“You are,” Matthew chuckles, “At least with her, it’s good, you’re getting softer and better at being her partner and not her security guard.” Matthew points out and I nod my head. It’s a transition sometimes to go from a security guard who can’t show much emotion to her boyfriend. 

“Are you done?” I laugh. 

Mathew nods, “Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine, with everything that has happened, her being a little under the weather is a better outcome than her emotionally spiralling, I think it’s the stress that has finally caught up with her.” 

“Does she need the doctor?” 

“No,” I shake my head, “I will put letters in the letterbox, I need you to take them, read them, and find out who’s sending them. They know I’m here and I don’t want to take any chances. They’re involving Anna now,” I inform Matthew of all the letters that I’ve received over the month, plus the ones Anastasia saw that were sent to my mother's house. 

I’ve done my best to keep the letters to myself and Matthew, not wanting to make something out of nothing. 

“Do you have any leads yet?” 

“No… I assume the Ace’s but Victoria is dead so that leaves who? Henry? His unknown father? Their mob? Matthew, the mafia aren’t people I want on my ass or the crooked government officials the king knows.”

“I’ll see what I can find out, just keep her safe and inside.” 

I nod my head, having no intentions of stepping outside with her unless it’s the back garden. “If you don’t mind, I’m going back inside where it’s warm.” 

“Try not to get too soft on me while I’m out here patrolling and keeping your ass safe.” 

“Ya, about time you watch my ass instead of me watching yours,” I respond before stepping back into the house. 

A Few Days Later.

I overhear the sound of the glass doors open as I stand on the back porch, gazing at the garden that is beginning to frail and change colours with the changing of seasons. I turn around and offer my mother a small smile as she closes the door behind her, but she doesn’t smile back at me. 

I cock my head to the side and watch as she fidgets with her hands, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip— she wants to say something, but she doesn’t know-how. 

“Just spit it out,” I distract her from her anxiousness. 

She shakes her head and sits down on the patio furniture, crossing her leg over her knee before tapping her fingers on the armrest, “I know I’m not allowed to ask but…” my mother trials off and I raise a brow, unsure of what question she’s about to ask. All I can gather is that it’s about my job. She’s aware I can’t discuss everything with her, but that doesn’t always mean she doesn’t attempt to ask. “I saw your shirt.” 

“What shirt?” 

“The one you wore the other night.” 

Oh, fuck. Here we go with that white fucking shirt. 

I nod my head, gesturing for her to continue. “It isn’t your blood, if it was then you’d have a wound.” 

“Who says I don’t?” I question, catching my mum off guard. 

My mother stares at me and narrows her eyes down onto me, she’s not thrilled and doesn’t want to participate in my sarcasm and half-assed answers. My mother stands to her feet, steps closer and takes it upon herself to lift my shirt, inspecting my body. 

I gently push her hand away, “If you don’t mind, it’s quite chilly,” I adjust my shirt to cover my torso. 

“Harry—“

“Mum,” I cut her off, “I already had it out with Anastasia over this, please don’t ask questions or read into this.” 

My mother shakes her head at me, “I can’t just not read into it… Surely there’s an explanation.” 

I nod my head, “There is, but I can’t give it to you.” 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have blood-stained shirts in the laundry for me to wash.” 

“I love you, and I appreciate everything you do for me… But, in my defence, I didn’t ask you to wash my clothes or that shirt, I was meant to throw it away. But apparently, everyone wants to see it.” 

“I’m not a fan of this.” 

“Join the club, you and Anastasia can have weekly meetings about it,” I mutter before heavily sighing, “Look, maybe later I can discuss things with you, but right now I can’t. On other news, since the wedding people are setting up, I’d really appreciate it if you and Gemma could participate in this… Help Anastasia pick a dress and get an idea of what she wants.” 

My mother glares at me, “I know you planned this.” 

“What?” 

“You have a wedding designer here bringing in dresses and everything else to keep her mind off of whatever the hell you’ve been up to and whatever it is you’re planning to do.” 

“While you are helping her with a dress, I’ll simply be doing paperwork,” I inform my mother, covering the fact that she’s partially correct. I had planned to surprise Anna with a wedding dress designer for a while, it just happened that right now suites all scenarios, it’ll keep her occupied and away from social media and it’ll give me time to do ‘paperwork.’ 

Of course, my paperwork will include doing some investigating on the Ace’s and the mafia they’re involved with, along with figuring out the whole situation with Victoria in the tunnels, and if I have enough time, I will hopefully manage to figure out where the fuck we are going to go from here. Anastasia and I can’t stay with my mother forever, at some point we will have to move Anna back to Buckingham or one of the other palaces. With us getting married, I’d think it’s suitable that we have a proper conversation about where we plan to live, obviously she’s going to want to choose Buckingham or the palace in Ireland but I think we should have a nice place away from the royal family, perhaps a little cottage. We need a place that’s just for me and her that has no royal affiliation to it. 

“When exactly are you getting married and where?” 

“Where and whenever she picks.” 

“Aren’t you concerned they’ll tell the media?” 

“Confidentiality contract,” I respond, “I’m going to go check on Anastasia,” I dismiss the conversation, mainly because my mothers dagger eyes brutally murder me and I can’t stand it. 

I walk inside and make my way down the hallway catching Anastasia just as she’s stepping out of the bedroom, “Good morning,” I smile, kissing her cheek instantly before bringing her into a warm embrace. She mumbles a good morning into me and I chuckle. “How are you feeling? I just put the kettle on for tea.” 

“I feel a lot better, still a little nauseous but it’s bearable.” 

“You look better than the last few days, no offence... I have a surprise for you,” I inform her, watching as she looks at me with curiosity. 

“Mhm, what is it?” Anastasia hums. 

I intertwine her fingers with mine and lead her to the end of the hallway where the dress designer has been setting up. I open the door and step in the room, allowing Anastasia to see the countless wedding dresses on wracks lined against the wall, “Anastasia, this is Charlotte, a creative director of a luxury fashion house. She will assist you with dresses and if you can’t find one will help design one, if you wish. Charlotte, this is my soon to be wife, Anastasia,” I introduce the two ladies, stepping back as they greet each other. 

“I brought a few dresses for you to look at, try on and see what you like if none of them works we can literally go to the drawing board, whatever you envision is, is what I want to create,” Charlotte sweetly informs Anastasia, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t curtesy,” Charlotte stammers and I can’t help but chuckle to myself. 

It never gets old when people get bent out of shape over curtseying. “Please,” Anna quickly shakes her head, “There’s no need, I’m not a princess, I’m just someone who wants the perfect dress,” Anastasia informs Charlotte. 

“I’ll leave you two to it… Mum and Gemma will come in and help if you’re okay with that, thought you might want some company?” 

“That would be really nice, thank you for this,” Anastasia smiles towards me before stepping closer to me and kissing my lips. 

It’s the least I could do. All she wants is a sense of normalcy, she doesn’t want the big fancy royal wedding with spectators, she isn’t asking for more than having a dress and getting married. I’ll do everything I can to make sure she gets the wedding of her dreams, even if it’s a small ceremony in the back yard with the sheep. 

Anastasia pulls on my hand as I go to walk out and I stop on my tracks, she grows quiet for a moment before leaning up and whispering, “I don’t know if I can afford a designer dress, Harry, without dipping into the royal—“ 

I gently cut her off with a kiss, “Money isn’t a factor.” 

“But.” 

“It’s covered, no matter what you pick, it’s covered. Get the dress of your dreams, don't worry about money or whether the royals will pay for it, I have it covered.” 

“Harry—“ 

I shake my head, “Don’t worry,” I kiss her lips again before walking out of the room, well aware that she’ll stand there and argue with me all day if I’d let her. 

While Anastasia is occupied with the wedding with my mother and sister to soon be right behind her, I slip out of the house and make my way to the parked car on the street. I open the door and relax on the passenger side, “Bloody Hell, do you not know what heat is?” I challenge Matthew with a gasp, leaning forward and turning the heat on, “Seriously, I know you’re older but heat was invented many years ago,” I continue, pressing my hand to the vents. 

“Harry, it is not that cold.” 

“There’s frost on the grass, it is ten degrees this morning.” I point out the fact the grass is insignificantly wet and there is a slight mist of fog lingering from the overnight temperatures.

“Well, put on a jacket,” Mathew smirks, “Besides the point, you’re late, the King has already called.” 

“I had to occupy Anna… I am glad I missed the call, I don’t even want to know what he wants now.” 

I am starting to have this yearning of avoiding the King at all costs, but I obviously can’t, he pays my bills and I am in love with his daughter. I will never get away from him. 

“You don’t get to pick and choose when he is the boss.”

I sigh and look at Mathew, “Anna is being weird with me since I won’t tell her what happened, I can’t do more shady shit,” I inform Mathew, “At least let me marry her before causing problems, she is less likely to leave if we are married.”

Mathew laughs and shakes his head, “That sounds like a great relationship. Either tell her or lie.”

“I don’t want to do either. The king said he would kill us if we told anyone...”

The King was very specific with his instructions. 

“He can’t hurt a fly, he has us do his dirty work, Harry. Do what I do.”

“Lie?” I question, unsure of what he tells his wife when he suddenly has to leave or when he is never home. 

“Tell her you can't talk about things because what was discussed is confidential.” 

“That would be great but my future wife is the future Queen and she saw the blood on my shirt, that is the issue. She wants to know where the blood came from.” 

“Next time, get rid of evidence you moron,” Mathew shakes his head, “Look, tell her someone was hit by  a car and you saved them.” 

“Oh, yes, let me dig myself into more of a hole,” I huff, looking down at my phone and scrolling through my contacts, “The private detective I hired to keep an eye on Henry hasn’t found anything, Henry has been staying at a cottage an hour outside London. A small two-bedroom cottage and a vegetable patch.” 

“Where?” 

“ Singleton, but I don’t know why he has tried to go off the radar and hide… Took a while for the lead.” 

“And what are you going to do with this lead?” Mathew asks. 

“Well, nothing. I can’t do anything, if I do, it would be stupid, he would instantly link me to Victoria’s death, I have to stay quiet… Plus, he isn’t doing anything. Actually, do you think he had anything to do with Victoria’s death?” I curiously begin to question. 

There isn’t much of reasons for Henry to suddenly go into hiding, I didn’t threaten him besides when he tried to take Anna’s horse, he got away with his psychotic behaviour, in fact, I think the King gave back the horse without Anastasia knowing— not that she would care— I don’t think she will ever get on a horse again. 

Mathew stares at me for a moment and thinks, “Unlikely, it is his mother, what motive would he have? Ask the detective where he was that night, plus, nobody knows about Victoria yet, there haven’t even been reports of her missing, the media is quiet.” 

“A little too quiet,” I mutter, “Anyway, what did the King have to say?” 

“We are on media duty, we need to leak a story or two.” 

“What are we leaking?” I ask.

“This is the part you’re not going to like… He wants to use Anastasia as a decoy from everything. He wants the media and the people to believe that she has stepped away from the palace to focus more on her royal duties privately and to better grasp things.”

I roll my eyes, “Not the first time he uses her as a decoy. Why can’t the actual Queen be used? Why is it, Anna?” 

“Well, the Queen isn’t as popular, quite frankly, at this point, nobody gives a damn what the Queen does. Everyone is interested in Anastasia, you are aware she will be Queen soon? She is big news.” 

“Whatever,” I hum, “So we have to leak stories that aren’t true to suit the King’s narrative? Can you do it? I don’t want Anna hating me much more. I don’t want a divorce before I m even married.” I ask Matthew as he begins to drive up the road. 

“I can,” he nods, “But you have to take the next call from the King.” 

I agree and nod my head, taking the file on his dashboard and beginning to read through it to get an understanding of what the King wants and what exactly we need to do. 

[kacychase]

“I do”

AeGi; yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking lol

My  mirror  image  looks  so  different  from  the  usual.  My  hair  is  made  up  in  a  hairdo  that  is  more  elaborate  than  I  have  probably  seen  for  a  while  –  Rika  and  Maya  insisted  on  making  the  make-up  and  hairstyle  extravagant.

To  be  honest,  having  been  younger,  I  bet  it  would  have  felt  a  bit  different  from  today’s  standards.  Though,  today  is  a  bit  of  an  exception.

Nope.  That’s  an  understatement,  today  will  be  one  of  the  most  terrifying  days  of  my  life…  What  if  I  just  got  out  of  here  with  Nol,  and  we  would  just  sit  in  the  Wac’s  a  few  blocks  from  here?  That  would  have  been  awesome.

But  probably,  the  white,  beautiful  dress  I’m  wearing  would  get  too  dirty  for  it  to  be  ruined  by  the  street’s  mud.  Its  lace  for  the  long  sleeve  and  the  v-neck  cut  really  makes  my  rather  slender  figure  look  less  like  a  stick.  Taking  in  a  deep  breath,  I  realize  that  maybe,  this  wedding  won’t  be  a  disaster  –  after  all,  my  friends,  the  Parks,  Nana,  dad  and  Rika  have  all  helped  me  through  this,  and  I  bet  Dieter  and  Soushi  were  Nol’s  anchors,  too.

I  bet  he’s  just  as  nervous  as  I  am.

“Shin-Ae,  your  necklace  is  put  in  the  wrong  way,  do  you  want  me  to  turn  it  around?”  Ah,  that  was  what  made  me  look  in  the  mirror  in  the  first  place.  Keep  your  head  together,  Shin-Ae!

It’s  not  like  he’s  any  less  nervous  than  I  am.  Well,  maybe  I  did  most  of  the  organizing  of  the  wedding,  but  honestly,  he  probably  is  just  as  nervous  as  I  am  about  becoming  my  husband.

Yeah,  that  must  be  it.  I  am  about  to  become  his  wife,  huh?  That  means  Mrs  Lochlainn.  Yeah…  Thinking  about  it  now,  his  proposal  feels  like  yesterday.  When  Nol  proposed  to  me,  it  was  oddly  romantic,  and  he  looked  like  he  wanted  to  escape  all  throughout  the  date.  Kinda  rigid,  but  at  least  I  found  out  why  after  we  decided  to  go  to  a  chicken  joint  instead.

Oh  man…

Anyway,  I’m  going  to  marry  in  30  minutes,  and  my  heart  feels  like  running.

“Shin-Ae!  Do  you  want  to  talk  to  your  dad?  Or  Min-Hyuk?  You  look  dead,”  Maya  deadpans  with  a  single  glance  into  my  direction,  shortly  checking  her  make-up  before  looking  back  to  me.  Rika,  through  the  while,  just  peeks  through  the  door,  then  turns  back  to  the  two  of  us.  “Well,  your  dad  is  definitely  at  the  door,  Min-Hyuk  looks  like  he’s  talking  to  Dieter  and  Soushi  about  something,”  she  announces  at  our  direction,  having  Maya  exclaim:  “I  bet  it’s  a  good  idea  right  now!  We  will  check  if  everything  in  the  wedding  goes  according  to  plan,  okay?”

This  is  going  too  fast.  Feeling  my  hands  shiver  about  the  whole  thing  and  the  fact  that  the  wedding  event  has  started,  I  feel  like  my  mind  is  blanking.  For  some  reason,  I’m  a  bit  scared  of  messing  up,  becoming  tongue-tied  when  the  vows  start.  Not  keeping  up  the  vows.  Being  a  bad  wife.  Everything  about  this  is  kind  of  strange.  But  thinking  that  Nol  is  my  husband  from  today  on  makes  it  reasonable  again.

“Alright.  Thank  you  guys,  I  owe  you  one,  for  real,”  I  sigh  in  distress  and  smile  at  my  two  bridesmaids.  Although  we  were  off  to  a  rocky  start,  we  really  have  grown  close  over  time.  “Just  repay  us  when  Dieter  finally  marries  his  fiancée,”  Maya  nonchalantly  replies,  while  both  women  in  their  yellow  dresses  head  to  the  exit

But  even  that  doesn’t  compare  to  the  way  Nol  and  I  have  evolved  into  two  dorks.  Even  during  the  times  when  I  was  crazily  stressed  out,  he  somehow  manages  to  put  up  with  my  attitude.  How  does  he  even  do  that?

Either  way,  I  could  need  him  right  now.  At  least  I  will  see  him  at  the  altar  I  guess.  When  we  are  about  to  listen  to  the  priest,  vow  to  each  other,  kiss  and  be  husband  and  wife.

Ugh,  this  is  going  to  be  something  else  for  sure.  I  could  use  a  good  old  hug,  or  a  laugh,  or  some  chicken.

But  my  father  entering  the  room  is  what  makes  me  rethink  rushing  to  Wac’s  for  a  Wac  burger  as  he  closes  the  door  behind  him,  and  maybe  his  excited  face  reminding  me  of  the  occasion.

“There  you  are,  Shin-Ae.  I  was  already  wondering  if  they  had  abducted  you  or  something,”  dad  says  as  he  approaches  me,  then  takes  a  halt  to  take  in  the  way  I  look  –  a  beautiful  bride  about  to  be  bound  off  to  the  man  he  used  to  hate.

He  would  have  hated  any  man  that  would  come  into  my  life  anyway.

His  stunned  but  soft  and  moved  voice  hits  me  as  he  mutters:  “My  beautiful  daughter,  about  to  marry…”  Closing  the  distance,  he  carefully  watches  as  he  probably  debates  whether  he  should  hug  me  or  not.  “This  guy  still  doesn’t  deserve  you.  If  it  went  by  me,  he  would  have  been  hist-“  “Dad!,”  I  interrupt  him,  “Who  else  will  support  the  fried  chicken  industry  as  much  as  he  does?  We  need  to  keep  him  alive,”  I  argue  back,  a  smile  creeping  on  my  face  as  I  giggle  eerily.

Today  really  does  it,  huh.

“Well,  you  seem  very  happy  honey,  and  I  hope  that  you  two  can  continue  to  be  there  for  each  other.  That  guy  really  blooms  with  you  around.”  Whenever  I  hear  that,  my  heart  starts  melting.  I  know  that  Nol  and  I  appear  to  some  as  the  ‘OTP’  (not  looking  at  Maya  at  all),  but  I  always  feel  a  little  softer  whenever  I  see  Nol  being  happy,  smile  like  the  fool  he  is,  or  actually  just  hearing  someone  how  great  he  looks  in  general  whenever  he  speaks  of  us  and  the  engagement  stuff.

At  least  now  I  know  that  Nana  didn’t  entirely  force  him  into  proposing  to  me.  But  we  do  have  a  catholic  prayer  included  into  the  ceremony.

My  stomach  feels  oddly  bubbly  right  now,  and  I  wish  I  wasn’t  so  affected  before  I  would  even  see  my  redhead  idiot  fiancée.  “Dad?  I  don’t  know  what  to  do  right  now,”  I  admit  to  him,  feeling  myself  take  in  a  deep  breath,  suddenly  hyper  aware  to  the  way  air  fills  my  lungs.

“I  am  about  to  go  out  there  and  vow  to  him,  and  everything.  I  don’t  even  know  if  I  am  a  good  fiancée  or  not.  What  about  wife  then?”

  Silently  listening  to  me,  dad  does  not  really  say  anything  as  silence  spreads  itself  in  the  room,  and  I  slowly  concentrate  on  my  breathing  as  Nol  has  taught  me  once  when  I  was  close  to  panicking  because  of  the  nurse  job,  and  it  has  served  me  for  quite  an  amount  of  times.

“Shin-Ae,  this  guy  is  already  happy  to  have  you  the  way  you  are,  don’t  worry  about  that,”  he  just  says,  strokes  his  fingers  through  his  hair  to  look  at  my  hair  and  my  make-up.  “This  guy  looks  at  you  as  if  you  saved  his  life,  and  look  at  you.  Now  both  of  you  are  here.  I  think  that  should  already  make  the  case  that  he’s  happy  with  you  marrying  him,”  he  finally  answers,  “Now  come,  let  me  give  you  a  hug.”

Feeling  his  arms  hesitantly  embrace  me,  I  also  lay  my  arms  around  him  slowly  to  avoid  getting  anything  from  the  dress  caught  onto  his  elegant  suit.  “Thanks,  dad,”  I  just  mutter,  careful  not  to  stain  his  shoulder  with  make-up  either.  “No  problem,”  he  responds,  releasing  me  seconds  after.

“Now,  how  long  do  you  need  to  revise  on  the  speech?”  he  asks  as  he  goes  back  a  few  steps  and  looks  at  the  cards  I  have  prepared  to  reread  before  I  might  blank  out  on  them.  “I-I  think  I  got  it.  I  revised  it  at  home  quite  a  bit,”  I  respond  with  another  breath,  stealing  a  glance  at  the  tiny  little  flashcard  that  I  have  tried  to  write  so  much.  It  feels  like  too  little  now.

In  my  nervous  stupor,  I  swear  I  wish  I  could  change  the  speech  right  now  and  just  add  more.

“Honey,  you  will  do  great,”  I  hear  dad  say  and  I  nod  absentmindedly.

“It’s  really  just  Nol  I’m  talking  to.  He’ll  probably  goof  out  more  than  I  will,”  I  mutter  and  stifle  a  chuckle.  I’m  just  as  bad  as  him,  so  I  shouldn’t  laugh.  Technically.

“Alright,  because  I  think  it’s  time  already.”

  This  sentence  makes  me  feel  a  huge  stone  weigh  down  my  stomach,  but  my  dad’s  genuine  doesn’t  tell  me  otherwise.  “What?”  My  voice  sounds  like  it’s  choking  on  itself.  “B-but  the  people  don’t  sit  yet,  do  they?”

“Actually,  they  wait  for  you  now.”

“OMG  WHY  DIDN’T  YOU  TELL  ME!!”  My  nervousness  shouldn’t  be  this  terrible.  “Sorry  dad!”  I  immediately  add,  feeling  sorry  for  my  little  outbreak.  “Let’s  go!”

“Alright,  honey.  Here  you  go.”

  And  as  he  gives  me  his  arm,  I  intertwine  my  left  one  with  his  right.

When  the  both  of  us  go  down  the  hall  of  the  church,  everything  feels  so  incredibly  dreamlike.  All  the  past  work  in  the  months  before,  all  the  organization  that  went  into  today,  all  the  guest  lists  and  seat  orders  and  bills  and  themes  –  they  all  fade  into  nothingness  as  I  finally  see  my  redhead  look  at  me,  his  eyes  so  intense  and  so  glassy  that  my  heart  might  jump  any  time.  His  smile  is  so  genuine  and  so  full  of  happiness,  and  I  can  see  nervousness  ooze  from  him  as  much  as  from  me  as  we  slowly  approach  him,  dad  still  firmly  holding  my  arm.  If  he  hadn’t,  I  really  don’t  know  what  might  have  happened,  but  the  way  Nol  and  I  look  at  each  other  now…  It  makes  all  the  doubts  and  fears  go  away.

I’m  ready  for  a  long  life  with  this  goofy  bigfoot.

  The  steps  to  the  altar  have  made�� me  worry,  but  now  that  I  can  finally  see  Nol  within  my  reach,  I  suddenly  feel  calm,  as  if  I  didn’t  need  to  look  for  my  husband  anymore.  But  as  my  father  releases  me  with  a  smile,  all  I  can  see  are  Nol’s  smile,  and  I  swear,  teary  green  eyes.

My  heart  is  wrenching  as  I  see  one  drop  from  his  right  eye,  and  my  own  eyes  water.  Is  my  smile  even  a  pretty  one  at  this  point?  I  don’t  care.

“Dear  beloved,  we  are  gathered  here  today…,”  the  priest  starts  to  say,  and  he  is  a  friendly  one.  His  way  of  speaking  about  us,  our  duties  for  each  other  as  husband  and  wife  from  a  Catholic  standpoint  somehow  is  really  encouraging  and  sweetly  put.  I  am  glad  that  we  got  him,  and  before  the  ceremony,  I  remember  him  wishing  us  the  best.

While  I  smile  and  nod,  I  can’t  help  but  catch  myself  stare  at  the  freckled  groom.  There  he  stands,  in  a  suit  that  makes  him  more  handsome  than  he  already  is,  styled  hair,  a  yellow  boutonnière  and  funnily,  a  last-minute  addition  of  the  pizza  cufflink  Min-Hyuk  has  bought  him.  I  think  he  has  mentioned  that  he  got  them  for  him  last  week.  Looking  at  all  the  groomsmen,  I  can  see  Dieter,  Min-Hyuk  and  Dieter  looking  at  us,  and  as  I  glance  at  them,  each  of  them  smiles  at  me  and/or  gives  me  a  thumbs  up.  Trying  to  suppress  a  chuckle,  I  look  back  at  my  groom,  my  heart  already  elated.  His  face  tells  me  so  much  to  the  point  that  I  can’t  breathe  for  a  second.  Another  tear  falls  down  his  eye  and  he  smilingly  wipes  it  away  with  his  hand  as  my  heart  aches  to  hug  and  kiss  him.  But  for  now,  holding  hands  should  work.

This  man…

This  man  makes  me  cry  at  my  wedding,  too.  “As  now,  the  groom  can  from  now  on  proceed  with  his  speech  to  the  bride.”  With  a  short  Thank  you  smile  to  the  priest,  Nol  now  locks  eyes  with  me  again,  so  much  more  intense.  For  a  while,  nothing  happens  as  we  just  stare  at  each  other,  until  he  breaks  and  laughs:  “Sorry,  I  didn’t  know  that  a  wedding  could  make  me  this  nervous  today.”

A  few  short  laughs  fill  the  room,  mine  included.  In  the  background,  I  can  see  Shin-Hye  film  the  whole  thing,  but  I  couldn’t  care  less  right  now  as  my  eyes  gravitate  back  to  his.

“Shin-Ae.  When  I  first  met  you,  it  was  when  you  splashed  orange  juice  at  me  in  a  burger  joint.  You  stood  up  for  your  friends  and  gave  us  a  piece  of  your  mind,  even  punched  my  school  uniform  clean.  Back  then,  I  had  no  clue  what  a  ride  I  was  in  for,  and  what  kind  of  person  you  were,”  I  can’t  help  but  chuckle  at  the  memory.  I  was  a  socially  awkward  person  just  trying  to  make  things  right  with  the  little  money  we  had.  When  I  met  you  the  second  time,  you  stood  up  for  your  beliefs.  ‘I  don’t  care  whether  you  are  the  son  of  the  prime  minister  or  a  random  cashier  at  a  food  mart,  you’re  a  human  first’,  you  said  to  me.”  As  he  mentions  said  thing,  I  feel  starstruck.  He  remembers?  How?  Even  I  barely  remember  what  I  said  to  him  years  ago  at  the  party.  His  genuine  but  also  proud  smirk  is  telling  me  that  my  reaction  must  be  obvious,  as  I  hear  his  speech  to  me.  “And  it  was  that  that  made  me  think  of  you.  After  we  became  friends,  I  have  seen  you  defend  your  loved  ones,  and  over  the  time  yourself  from  what  is  bad.  You  are  brave,  you  have  a  heart  too  big  for  your  own  good,  and  the  best  taste  in  chicken  wings  I  could  wish  in  a  wife.  Thank  you  for  believing  in  me  when  only  my  Nana  told  me  I’m  handsome.  I  love  you”

His  unwavering  gaze  at  mine  gives  me  goosebumps,  but  I  don’t  care  and  wish  I  could  just  kiss  him  already.  At  least  my  cheeks  hurt  from  all  the  smiling.

"I,  Nolan  Lochlainn,  take  you,  Shin-Ae,  to  be  my  wife.  I  promise  to  be  true  to  you  in  good  times  and  in  bad,  in  sickness  and  in  health"  Although  I  have  seen  him  tearing  up  and  nervously  laughing  just  now,  these  words  come  out  in  such  an  assuredness,  warming  my  heart.

God,  now  it  is  my  turn.

Luckily  having  taken  my  flashcards  with  me,  I  smile  at  him,  vision  blurry.

“Nol,  back  when  I  didn’t  have  it  too  easy,  to  me,  you  were  a  sly  person,  a  good-willing  guy  who  came  off  too  strong.  I  didn’t  understand  that  when  you  were  doing  these  things,  you  were  probably  the  most  genuine  person  I  could  have  ever  met.  And  I  am  glad  we  made  it  through  the  times.  You  have  proven  to  me  time  again  that  even  if  there  was  no  other  way  to  both  chase  your  dreams  and  be  there  for  your  loved  ones,  you  made  it  work.  Whenever  I  was  down,  or  had  moments  of  doubts,  you  were  there  to  light  up  my  day,  and  make  the  best  potato  dishes  I  had  the  pleasure  of  eating.  I  love  you,  and  can’t  wait  to  spend  my  life  even  more  with  you.”

I  wish  I  was  better  at  this.  My  voice  quivers  as  I  keep  eye  contact  with  Nol,  taking  a  deep  breath.  But  seeing  him  break  into  a  smile  and  glassy  eyes,  I  just  have  to  reciprocate.  “I,  Shin-Ae  Yoo,  take  you,  Nolan  Lochlainn,  to  be  my  husband.  I  promise  to  be  true  to  you  in  good  times  and  in  bad,  in  sickness  and  in  health.”

He  shortly  looks  at  the  floor,  then  back  to  me.

“Nolan  Lochlainn,”  I  hear  the  speaker  say,  “Do  you  take  Shin-Ae  to  be  your  beloved  and  wedded  wife?”

The  tall  groom  tightens  his  grip  around  my  hand,  closing  up  my  throat.  “I  do.”

I  can’t  help  but  grin  at  him,  looking  shortly  at  the  pizza  cufflink  on  his  suit  to  calm  myself.  But  I  can’t  miss  his  gaze  right  now.  I  want  to  remember  this  for  the  rest  of  my  life.

“Shin-Ae  Yoo,”  there  is  a  long  pause  before  I  look  into  the  eyes  of  the  speaker,  eventually  hearing  the  only  words  that  keep  me  separated  from  calling  Nol  my  spouse.  “Do  you  take  Nolan  Lochlainn  to  be  your  beloved  and  wedded  wife?”

Looking  at  Nol  with  a  smile,  I  have  to  nod  while  saying  “Yes.”

  I  also  tighten  my  grip  around  his  fingers.  Is  this  really  happening?  His  face  looks  just  as  shocked,  but  I  can’t  wait  for  what’s  about  to  come.  “Now  you  may  kiss  the  bride.”

  I  don’t  care  about  the  cheers  once  Nol  approaches  me  and  I  put  my  arms  around  him.  It’s  too  sweet  to  really  describe,  but  I  am  sure  in  will  stay  engraved  into  my  mind.

.

.

.

Fin.

[t-lostinworlds]

Lost You (Shawn Mendes) [2]

Feat. Tom Holland

A/N: This took way too long and I am really sorry for the wait. Also, this got a bit long too aha. The song btw is Unloving You by Alex Aiono check him out you guys he’s really talented, so yeah give that a listen because the performance is kindaa based on the song. Anyhow, I hope you guys still like this one!

Summary: After seeing your performance on a song you wrote about him, Shawn went out to get some air, but his peace was quickly interrupted when Tom decided to follow and confront him

Warnings: a sprinkle of Angst and typos

Word Count: 6.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

You are very grateful that your dressing room has a bathroom in it, that was the purpose as to why you got out of your seat in the first place.

Your stylist was kind enough to help you out of your dress quickly and into your performance dress, a more comfortable and movable one before you got into the bathroom to empty your bladder.

Tom was being all blushy and cute while you got changed, covering his eyes with both hands and never peeking as promised, making you giggle in midst of your current mix of emotions after what happened with... Shawn.

The dress you wore was pale pink with a long, A-line bottom and a v-neckline to match a low back. The whole dress was covered in lace that extends into cap sleeves with petal appliqués littered all across, giving you an almost, fairy-like type of feel.

You wore close to no make-up now, hair down to frame your face, with your feet all bare, the rawness of your features critical for the song you were going to sing.

You wanted it to be intimate, real and emotional. Not much big production, just pure and simple you on stage, nothing but the beautiful sound of the piano and a few ballet dancers to tell a story.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Tom asked again the moment you reached the couch. Plopping yourself beside him, you nodded with a sigh. "Yeah just, seeing him brought back memories."

Tom frowned at your words, arm extending as he draped it over your shoulder, hand rubbing your arm in comfort. "What'd he say to you?"

You shrugged at his question, fingers picking at your dress as you softly mumbled. "That he still loves me and that he wants to get back together."

"And?"

"No, gosh no. I can't go back to what it once was. I couldn't even if I tried. And I really don't want to because every time I look at him I just see... pain." You shook your head with a frown of your own, hurt spreading inside you as the tainted memories replayed itself inside your head.

"Do you still love him?"

You took a sharp, deep breath at the question, two sides of yourself going against each other as to what you feel about that certain boy. "I don't know." You admitted with a defeated sigh, your mind a mess a long with your heart that you couldn't exactly give Tom a straight answer.

Maybe there's still a part of you that loves him, the Shawn you once knew at least, but that always seems to get clouded by the Shawn you saw just minutes ago. The familiarity in the way he looks at you, the glint in his eyes, it was still there, but barely. You saw a very different person from the boy who you fell in love with, because all you saw was the person who broke your heart into pieces.

"Okay, let's change the subject because the crinkle on your forehead is back, you need to clear your mind and relax. You're performing in a few darling." Tom pressed his pointer finger on the space between your brows, smoothing out the wrinkle with a reassuring smile that you couldn't help but feel all warm.

You looked up at him with a small, genuine but guilty smile. "Thank you and I'm sorr—"

"No need for that love. I've promised you that I'll always be here whenever you need me, and I tend to keep my promises. And before you start, no, you're not being a burden nor are you leading me on. I'm a grown man; I make my own choices, and am aware of the consequences. And as I've said plenty of times before, I am willing to wait for you whenever you are ready." Tom gave your arm a gentle squeeze, eyes boring into yours as it showed nothing but pure genuineness.

You felt your heart melt at the seams at his words, so grateful to have someone be at your side in time of need and one who actually cares about you wholeheartedly.

You are aware of a certain feeling that courses through you whenever you're with Tom. As to what it is? You haven't figured it out completely yet. This just makes things now more complicated than you thought it would be, adding the whole Shawn thing.

Tom and you have talked about what he felt for you, and you've also told him that he's free to find another as you are not sure as to when your heart gets fully healed. You don't want to use him as rebound at all, nor do you want to hold him down, that's why you've never told him anything that'd give him too much hope or anything, feelings wise, that you weren't sure yourself. You've been blunt and honest with him from the start, completely transparent without any sugar coating, but still, he understands and is still willing to wait.

With a simple explanation that you're not exactly ready yet, that you need to focus on yourself and be the person who you're meant to be, Tom understood. He always did, he's just incredible like that.

Pushing yourself up slowly, you placed a soft and sweet kiss on Tom's cheek, the simple action catching him off-guard as you felt his breath slightly hitch. You pulled away to look at him fully, face only an inch apart that you could make out the swirls of his beautiful brown eyes, the tips of your noses almost touching and you couldn't miss the way you felt your heart skipped a beat.

"You are such an amazing person, have I told that?" You whispered softly, Tom's eyes glancing down for a second to catch a glimpse of your lips before they were quick to be back on yours. It was a fast peek, but you caught it nonetheless.

He didn't take it further though, knowing that he can't do that to you right now, especially with what's going on inside your head. You saw it in his eyes, he knew it just wasn't the right time, and you were thankful.

Tom only chuckled with a nod, a soft blush coating his cheeks as he shot you a sweet but playful grin. "Yes, you have told me that, countless times, but I don't get tired of hearing it though."

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, swatting his chest playfully to which he purposely yelped a little too loudly. All overdramatic and everything. "That wasn't even that hard!" You exclaimed with giggles of your own.

"It still hurts love." He pouted at you, rubbing his chest exaggeratedly just for the purpose to sell his act. "I thought you had super strength Spider-Man? Unless you're a fraud." You accused as you narrowed your eyes at him, Tom gasping in feign offense.

"Hey!"

Both of you continued to banter back and forth, giggles and laughs echoing around the space until it was cut off when you were finally called to stage.

***

"Please help me welcome to the stage, your best new artist, Y/N L/N!"

Shawn's head snapped back at the stage once he heard your name. He'd been seating all angsty the moment he got back from meeting you in the hallway. He has been silent the rest of the night unless someone acknowledged him, but otherwise, he kept still and quiet, just waiting for you to appear on stage.

He was a complete and utter mess, but nothing a few fake smiles can't hide. Having done this before, all the eyes and the cameras lurking about, he was getting good at masking his feelings.

The lights started to dim as the applause faded out, the whole arena eerily quiet until a single spotlight shown right at the very back of the stage. And there you were, standing in all your raw and breathtaking beauty that Shawn has ever seen you in.

"I wish I could unsay the words I said..." Your voice echoed throughout the whole place, the sound sending shivers down Shawn's spine as it's been so long since the last time he heard you sing in person.

Then the melody of the piano came rolling in, the music just as beautiful to match your voice.

I wish I could unsee the videos in my head And if I could untie the knot and unhear the promises that you forgot Would I do that? Would I?

Shawn's heart ached at that. He knew what this song was about, from the very first moment you released it, he knew it was about him. The pain, the hurt and regret in your voice was clear as day and it took a big swing at his heart.

Movement on the stage snapped him back to reality as you walked forward ever so slowly. You looked like an angel to him, glowing right in the middle of the stage, your dress flowing with every step giving the illusion of you floating in mid-air.

The moment you reached a space another spotlight lit up, illuminating a few dancers acting out as couples as they move beautifully in sync with the song, so much raw emotion in one stage.

Unloving you, is the hardest thing to do Wish I could find a way to be unlove with you Unloving you, you're all I wanna lose But every night I'm closer to the bitter truth I just can't unlove you Maybe I can't unlove you

Shawn understood the lyrics clear as day, he's heard this song more times than he should, but he tried his best to not hold out hope, because he knows you. He knows you can never release a very personal song unless... unless it doesn't hurt you that much anymore. And if you were able to sing this live, then that can only mean one thing.

Maybe you've written the song right after everything. Just pouring every pain and suffering he caused you into lyrics and melodies to help you heal, and maybe by writing this song, you have healed, and releasing it to the world just means it doesn't hurt to revisit it anymore. It means that you've probably moved on, and that only leaves Shawn even more broken that he already is.

I wish I could unfeel your skin I wish I could undrown these feelings and learn to swim Oh if I could unlock the gate and unlight the fire that you put in me Would I do that? Would I?

The couples were now surrounding you, all acting out mundane things like slow dancing, reading books, one even had a mixing bowl in hand as they laughed, but the one that stuck out the most to Shawn was the couple sitting right in the corner, on a picnic blanket, the guy who oddly looked like him, holding a guitar in his hands.

It was way too familiar that Shawn felt his heart sink.

The first time I told her I love her.

Tears started to prick at Shawn's eyes as realization hit him like a truck. What the couples on stage were doing, it was the things you two always did when you were still together. Every single one of it, from making a mess in the kitchen to you reading him stories in bed.

He felt his chest slowly tighten, his body all tense as his mind ran a hundred miles per minute, just thinking about all the beautiful memories that now were tainted, all the blissful things that once was and might never get to experience again. All because of what he did.

Shawn stared right at you as you finished off the last chorus, the lights that were casted upon the couples started dimming one by one, almost serving as a sign that those memories, they were flickering, disappearing into nothing.

Unloving you, is the hardest thing to do Wish I could find a way to be unlove with you

Then the whole stage just burst to life, all dancers now moving in complete sync as you poured your heart and soul into the last beat.

Unloving you, you're all I wanna lose But every night I'm closer to the bitter truth I just can't unlove you

"But someday I will unlove you..." Everything then turned dark, the only light was yours as you stood there, right in the middle of the stage with a proud yet relieved smile.

The whole arena erupted into applause but the only thing Shawn could hear was the sharp ringing in his ears.

That's was it.

That last lyric change was all it took for Shawn to get up his seat and rush out. It may have looked bad if someone caught him, but hell, it would've look even worse if the camera caught him close to tears and unable to breath.

He just needed some air.

***

Shawn didn't know exactly how but he managed to find an empty lot at the very back of the arena, no signs of life so far. Big trucks were parked all around, hiding him some more from any prying eyes that could be lurking by.

He shut his own eyes tight as he threw his head back, the breeze of fresh air cool against his face as he took in as much as he could to try and calm himself down. His mind was still so crowded, so many thoughts rushing in and out of his brain at high speed and he couldn't quite grasp what was real and what was not.

Shawn thought he was okay, that he was good after the break up. He admits, he made the choice, he wasn't fully heartbroken when he did what he did. But as time went by, it slowly started to creep on him, all the pain and sorrow, and when he saw you tonight? That's when everything finally hit, a tidal wave of regret, guilt and hurt, all in one big swoop.

Shawn shook his head as he opened his eyes, now staring straight up at the dark night sky. There was no sound aside from the muffled screaming from inside, the premise somewhat, peaceful in a sense. He took in the calmness of everything around him, and slowly Shawn felt his heart rate go down, breathing going steady as he tried his best to clear his head, just counting the stars that he could see through the blaring lights of the place.

It was going great so far, that until he heard the door he came out of open and then close.

Turning around, he was filled with confusion and pure surprise as the person in front of him was the last who Shawn expected to see. He didn't ever expect to see him at all in pure honesty. Out of the number of persons who could've seen him run out, out of all the people who could've followed him, it had to be Tom Holland himself, how funny.

"If you came here to gloat—"

"No, I came here to give you a word of advice." Tom stood there with his hands in his pockets, a solemn look on his face to which Shawn only responded with furrowed brows. "I don't need your advice." He grumbled.

"I think it's best if you stay away from her." Tom ignored Shawn's comment as he added, voice stern and laced with pure warning, making Shawn scoff as he crossed his arms over his puffed out chest, all tall and confident. The Canadian boy wasn't scared of the British lad that's for sure. "And you expect me to listen to you?"

Tom shook his head. "No, I don't, but for her sake? I know you will." When Shawn didn't say a word, Tom continued, taking one step forward towards him to try and get the point across. "You claim that you care about her right? Then if that really is true, you need to let her go and let her be happy. You owe that to her."

Shawn let's out a mocking laugh, gesturing towards all of Tom as he sneered. "What, with you?"

The lad shook his head with a disappointed chuckle, arms falling limp to his side as if he can't actually believe that this is the card Shawn decided to play. "You're not getting the point here mate."

"No! You're not getting the point. I still love her, and I'm not going to give up until I get her back. I will keep fighting for her no matter the cost." Shawn wasn't one to have temper, he tends to have good control over it in most days, but right now, he couldn't feel anything else aside from anger and utter annoyance.

Sure, Shawn doesn't know Tom fully well, but he already doesn't like him. Maybe it was his ego talking, or maybe it's because Tom was with you but in Shawn's mind? How dare this guy tell him what to do?

Tom's patience was also starting to waver, the thought of you hurting and broken because of what this bastard did and continues to do was enough for Tom to not like Shawn, and he was going to make sure he hears what he has to say. "Do you want to get back with her because you truly love her? Or is it because it hurts your ego to see her with someone else and you just can't have that?"

Shawn blinked as Tom's words echoed inside his mind. He grew speechless at that, eyes casted down to the ground as he looked away to avoid Tom's accusing gaze, and that in itself was already an answer.

"Exactly my point."

Shawn was slowly crumbling, the gears in his head turning as he started to grow confused as to what he truly feels. He does love you, no doubt about that, but is that the main reason why he wanted you back? Or is there an underlying reason, a certain feeling that Shawn just can't seem to admit?

The curly-headed boy wasn't given the time to clear his head though, because Tom didn't stop, he wasn't near done.

Maybe it was all because of the pent up frustration he had for Shawn after so long. Granted, Tom doesn't know much about the guy, but he's heard enough. Just the name of the man who broke the woman Tom cares so much about, he's been hearing it over and over for months on end, all the things he's done. And now, Tom just wanted to let all his frustrations out and give him a piece of his mind.

"I know you're hurting right now, I can see it, but I care about Y/N a lot, and after seeing what you did to her, plus the aftermath? I don't want to be an asshole but you deserve all of it, if not more." Tom crossed his arms over his chest, jaw clenching as his mind went back to all the times you spent hurt and crying in his arms. You were an amazing, kindhearted, and compassionate woman, and you didn't deserve even an ounce of what Shawn put you through.

"Shut the fuck up Tom. You have no right to tell me what I deserve, you're not even in the fucking picture because this is between me and Y/N. This is none of your business. I will choose what the fuck I want to do and who are you to stop me huh?" Shawn growled through gritted teeth, fists balled at his sides as he took a step towards Tom, but the lad didn't seem to be bothered, not when he could match Shawn's anger easily.

"You've already made your choice the moment you broke her heart mate. You chose to be with someone else. Fucking hell, you are with said someone else right now, and then all of the sudden you want her back? Because what? It bothers you to see her with someone? To see her with me?" Tom held his head high as he spat, nostrils flaring with a glare to match, not showing any signs of weakness as they grew even closer, heat radiating off of both guys and it was a matter of time before someone explodes.

Tom was in dangerous proximity if Shawn gets even angrier and decides to get physical, but he wasn't scared, not even a little bit. The guy was obviously taller, maybe bulkier sure, but Tom? Well, he's had training. He knows how to box.

The two were pushing each other to their limit, poking the bear until one finally cracks, neither one seeming to back down as anger, pride, and egos collide. Tom even more so as he kept going at Shawn, words not lessening any blow even in the slightest. Tom had to make sure it thoroughly gets to him, that's why he had to make it sting.

"You weren't there to see how broken she was, how broken you made her, I was. You didn't see how dark it got, how low she felt, but I did. The amount of times she cried because of you, the countless times she felt so insecure about every part of her being because of you, the number of times she beat herself up by saying she was never, and will never be enough all because of what you did, I was fucking there for all of it and it fucking hurts to see her like that." Tom's temper was slowly slipping from him, his heart pounding against his ears at the mere thought of you in pain. He just cares about you so much, and remembering what you went through, it was clouding his mind.

When he went out to follow Shawn, he was planning to just have a casual talk, maturely settle some matters, and maybe even extend some comfort but things escalated way too fast and got way too heated and here they were now, one upping each other on who could get even more angry.

"I'm not standing here out of spite and jealousy, I'm here to tell you that I'm not letting you break her apart again and then just leave for her to pick up the pieces after. I sure as hell won't let her go back to old ways, because she doesn't fucking deserve that Shawn. She deserves to be truly happy, to heal, and you're not the person for that, not anymore because you're the person who broke her." The accusation in Tom's voice was clear as day, and Shawn heard it all too loud, each word ringing in his ear.

Shawn was breathing heavily now, heart beating rapidly against his chest as it pounded hard that it might as well break his ribs, but the anger, once it starts to boil, then it gets even harder to control.

"You're words don't have weight on me. I don't know you, I don't care about you and you're not stopping me from getting her back." Shawn didn't even convince himself on what he said, because everything that Tom has been saying, it was getting to him, in the heart and mind. It was painful to hear it, but maybe that's because it was the truth.

"Can't you see what you're doing to her right now? You're making her relive the darkest times of her life. She's been so much better than before, she's worked so hard to be better, and then you just come prancing in expecting that if you say you still love her, that'll fix everything? Well guess what, It did the exact opposite." Tom wasn't sure what it was but he can't seem to hold his tongue anymore, he was fighting fire with fire, two minds too consumed with outrage that nobody was having any sort of grip on themselves, no sense of control and that only breathes nothing but disaster.

"Shut up." Shawn grumbled hastily, nails digging into his palms at how tight he was balling his fists. The ringing in his ears, it was getting louder and louder, and Tom's words were only making things worse.

"If you can't see how much you're hurting her by pushing your way back into her life then you don't care about her, you only care about yourself. You're just being selfish and it hurts your pride that for once, you're not getting your way with this."

And that's when all Shawn saw was red.

"Shut up!" Shawn screamed, Tom stumbling back once he felt a full on fist collide with his nose and before Tom could even do as much as regain himself, another one hit him square on the jaw.

"Tom!"

Shawn froze at the sound of your voice, shaking and blood-covered fist raised in the air as he watched you run towards them.

A cold chuckle left Tom's lips, wiping the warm blood running down his nose with the back of his hand as he looked at Shawn tauntingly. "You've got to hit harder than that mate."

Shawn glared at Tom, and he was really going to have another blow but you've already reached them before he could even flinch.

"No! You two! Stop!" You hissed.

Shawn's anger was quick to dissipate with just one look at you, quick to be replaced by pure guilt and regret. He was staring at you with a deep frown, and when your eyes met his, all he saw was a look of pure shock followed by disappointment. You shook your head at him, sighing as you turned to the other boy, eyes growing wide once you finally took in his state.

"Oh god, your nose is still bleeding, dammit!" You scrambled, both hands cupping Tom's face gently, turning it from side to side to check if there were any more injuries. The lad only chuckled softly, leaning into your touch like a puppy, hands holding onto your wrists as he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm fine love."

"Well you don't look it!" You scolded, worry laced in your features because this idiot's nose has been broken one too many times, and you were scared that this might have done some permanent damage. And as if Tom read your mind, he spoke.

"It wasn't that hard of a punch, I'm going to be fine." He was clearly instigating Shawn, provoking him to do something again so that Tom could have his chance too, but the other guy only scoffed, crossing his arms to stop himself from doing anything, because if Shawn does, then Tom wins.

"Thomas." You glared at the boy in warning, still in the state of confusion and shock as to why the two of them are here and having a fist fight in the first place. "Okay, okay, I'll stop, sorry darling." Tom pouted at you, to which you could only roll your eyes.

Men and their egos.

Shawn on the other hand has finally had the time to clear his head. He wasn't going to deny the jealousy that was consuming him just watching you be so gently, caring and sweet with Tom, and he so badly just wanted to leave but he needs to talk to you. "Y/N—"

"Just wait Shawn. I'll talk to you in a second." You sighed, sparing him a quick glance over you shoulder to see him nod solemnly and wait, weight shifting from one foot to another, head down like a puppy being scolded.

You turned back to Tom with an equally long sigh. These two really decided to butt heads, at such a public event and place, you were just praying that there weren't any paps or anyone for that matter who caught what just happened. That'd be a party for the press for sure, you can already see the horrifying headlines.

"Go back inside please, Tricia is just by the door maybe she has a tissue in hand." Tom frowned at that, sparing Shawn a look before his worried eyes were back on you. "But—"

"I can handle myself Tom." You flashed him a reassuring smile, but that still didn't seem to put Tom at ease. "I know. It's him I don't trust."

"I can hear you." Shawn interrupted with straight-out snark.

"Good!" Tom responded rather too enthusiastically with mockery laced in his tone, and the two were quick to be back on glaring at each other, willing to have another go, especially Tom because a part of him was itching to land at least one painful punch.

You let out a loud groan of utter aggravation.

Kids. Literal kids and it was taking everything in your power not to grab them both by the ear and drag them inside or to pull all of your hair out and off your head, whichever comes first.

"Tom, please? I'll meet you inside in a bit." You pleaded, and Tom could see that you were starting to get even more exasperated with the two of them bickering. So, he flashed you a sweet smile, giving your arm a comforting rub and then turning on his heel to walk back inside, but not before calling out to Shawn one last time.

"Remember everything that I said Shawn."

With that, Tom was out of sight, you turning around to meet Shawn who was already looking at you with so many emotions, a few of which were sorrow, guilt and regret.

"Y/N, I—" Shawn stopped himself, his mind still a jumbled mess that he can't think of what to say to you. You waited for him to continue, sporting a frown of your own as you took him in, his hollowed cheeks, messy hair, his bloodshot eyes, and his whole demeanor just...different.

"Shawn I'm worried about you." You sighed as you walked closer, the boy shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face. "I'm okay." Shawn stated ever so softly, eyes avoiding yours and that only made your frown deepen.

Worry was growing inside your chest the more you look at him, all defeated and lost, because as much as you're angry and hurt with everything that involves him, you can't find it in yourself to turn off that caring side, the one you'll always have when it's him.

"No Shawn, you are not okay. This isn't you." Your shoulders slumped as you watched him avoid your gaze still, head hanging low even when you're only just a foot apart. "You're not one to pick up fights Shawn, not even when you're drunk. Out of all the people I know, you're the one who has the most control with their temper. And you don't look okay, you've lost so much weight and I can tell just by looking at you. You look too tired, and you just don't look...happy." You pointed out softly.

Shawn lifted his head as he nodded, bottom lip caught between his teeth to stop it from trembling, but his eyes were still elsewhere, still refusing to meet yours.

"Shawn, what's going on?" You asked, just in general, because the happy and glowing Shawn you knew was lost. Some might say it was the toll of touring the world but deep inside, you knew there was something else, something more.

"I–I'm sorry." Shawn croaked, voice breaking as he finally looked at you, so much guilt and regret swimming in his teary eyes. "I–Tom told me... that you went through so much because of me and I'm just—I'm so sorry honey. I really screwed up and I–I know this will never be enough but I'm really sorry... for everything." Shawn couldn't get his words out straight, lips quivering as he tried his very best to keep his tears at bay, but he was miserably failing at it.

You felt your heart ache at the sight, completely at a loss for words because you don't really know what to say. You can't lie to him just to make him feel better, and you can't tell him anything else apart from the full truth. But the truth might just be too cruel, because you haven't forgiven him, at least not yet, and you really don't want to rub salt on the gaping wound.

Shawn must've sensed that you were troubled, because he took courage to take your hand in his, touch delicate as he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay if you don't want to say anything. I know it will never be easy to forgive me and I understand that, I don't deserve an easy way out of this." He was sniffling his words, tears now slowly falling down his face as he looks at you ever so longingly, and you were stuck again, stuck under his gaze.

You can feel your own tears starting to build, just looking at the broken man in front of you was enough to pull at your heartstrings. You were so conflicted inside, two voices in your head arguing on what you should do, and you don't have the strength to choose one, not when Shawn was so close, close enough to make your walls crumble piece by piece, close enough too for him to easily sway your decision.

Lifting a hand up Shawn cupped your cheek, fingers trembling until it touched your skin, the cold feeling of his palm making your eyes flutter shut as you tried to get a hold of whatever rational thought you had left.

You weren't giving in, you just can't, not after everything you've been through.

"I was fucking stupid, and there won't be a day that goes by that I won't regret everything that I did to you. I will live with the consequences for as long as I need to, but I want you—no, I need you to know that I do still love you, and I–I think I always will." You shook your head as a quiet sob escaped your lips before you could even stop it, a single tear escaping down your face because you were suddenly taken back, to all those memories, both dreams and nightmares.

The stitches on your heart were starting to rip apart, one thread at a time, the pain and hurt back on it's course as your mind kept replaying everything, both good and bad but the bad, it always seems to have the upper hand. "Shawn I—we can't, I can't go back." You whispered. The shake in your voice, the look of utter sorrow and conflict written across your beautiful features were enough for Shawn to understand what was meant, when Tom said that Shawn was only hurting you even further by pushing his way back into your life.

He truly does understand, and as much as he hates to admit it, Tom has opened his eyes. "I know honey, I know and I respect and accept that. It was wrong for me to ask after everything that you've been through, after everything that I put you through. You deserve so much better and I'm really sorry angel." Both of Shawn's hand were holding your face tenderly now, thumb swiping across your cheek to get rid of the tears that were coating them.

You could only give him a nod as you sniffled, words still a jumbled mess inside your head while so many different feelings swam in your heart. You weren't usually the one to grow speechless when it comes to most things, but tonight, you properly have no idea what to say. You can't tell him it's okay when it's not, you can't say you forgive him when you haven't, and you also can't say what the future might hold for the both of you because you really don't know.

The way he looks so fragile, so broken as trickle of tears kept running down his face, you can't find it in you at all to just tell him the cold truth.

Shawn closed his eyes momentarily, dragging in a breath, gathering all the strength that he has left before his brown orbs met yours again. "It hurts me to say this but it's the right thing to do. I have to let you go and I will. I'll keep my distance and let you heal, let you be as happy as you can be, even if it's not with me."

"And you're right, you always are. I am not okay." Shawn let's out a broken sob at that, his dried up tears replaced by new ones as it falls down his face, eyes back on the ground to hide the pain coating them.

Your nimble fingers wrapped itself around his wrists, slowly pulling his hands off your face as you took it in yours. You gave it a squeeze, the action making Shawn look up back to you with teary eyes and trembling lips. "Shawn, you need to take care of yourself. You need to heal too. And please, don't do it for me, don't do it for anyone else but you. Be okay for yourself. Please?"

Shawn gave you a soft nod, a slight pang hitting his chest because you just have the biggest heart, and the fact that he broke it to pieces, he feels so angry and disappointed at himself.

"Can you promise that?" You flashed him a small but genuine smile, hands letting go of his as you raised your pinky finger between your bodies.

Shawn bit his bottom lip to suppress a sob, slowly nodding his head as the tears blurred his vision again. The fact that you still have a little faith that he'd keep a promise, after everything, you just deserve the whole world and more. Shawn is and will always be the biggest idiot for what's he's done to a person as sweet and kind as you.

"I–I promise."

You engulfed him in a hug much to Shawn's surprise, but slowly, his strong arms wrapped around your waist as you rubbed comforting circles on his back. Shawn closed his eyes to relish your warm embrace, as sigh of content escaping his lips, giving you one last squeeze before pulling away.

You two looked at each other, sharing a short but sweet moment as you both exchanged smiles. It wasn't as wide nor bright, but it was genuine, a telltale sign that whatever the future maybe for the both of you, the path of redemption, forgiveness and healing was clear. Whether your paths would cross again at the end? It was for the universe to know and you to find out.

"I'll see you around rockstar."

And with that you walked away. But oddly enough, Shawn's heart doesn't feel as heavy as he watched you leave. Shawn felt content with what happened and he was gladly looking forward to what lies ahead.

-:-:-:-:-

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[plasterasher]

You Stay With Me (Last Part)

Virgil was in his room listening to music and drawing on his couch. Patton and Logan were busy recording a video, and Roman was in imagination. Virgil was getting ready to change the song when heard a hissing sound come from the corner of his room. Virgil yanked off his headphones and looked around the room but he didn’t see anything. 

‘Was it in my head? Was it my headphones? Probably… But what if it wasn’t’

Virgil stood up and started to walk around his room, but as soon as he stood up his felt a sharp pain in his wrist. “Ow! Shit!” He pulled his hand up and looked down only to see a yellow snake with back and gold scales all over. Virgil screamed and kicked the snake away from him. The snake hits the wall then falls to the ground and disappears in yellow smoke. “What the hell!?!” Virgil says loudly. But then Virgil's head starts to pound, and his vision goes blurry. “Yo… What the hell…” There's a knock on the door but Virgil can barely hear it over the ringing in his ear. “Virgil? Are you alright? I heard screaming.” A muffled Roman says, but before Virgil can even get a word out he’s out cold.

“Virgil? Virgil!” Roman says frantically from outside the door. Roman groans “This better not be a joke.” Roman mumbled under his breath. Roman rises up in Virgil’s room only to see him on the floor, his eyes partly opened with yellow swirls swimming in a foggy purple. “Oh my gosh. Virgil!” Roman rushed over to Virgil and kneeled down next to him. Roman shook Virgil three times but got nothing. He looked around the room to see what caused this but only saw two evenly spaced holes on Virgil’s wrist that showed a bit of blood. “Holy shit Virgil what happened to you?” Roman asked in a whispered voice. 

“Rember, you have to remember.” Virgil’s eyes popped open All he saw was black at first. “Hello! What’s going on!?!” He was getting a vague sense of deja vu. “Rember. He’s lying to you, he can’t be trusted.” The voice was barely understandable, but Virgil could pick out words here and there. “Who? Who can’t be trusted.” “You have to fight to remember, I can only do so much.” “Do so much of what? And fight? Fight what?” Virgil had so many questions. But what the voice said next was crystal clear. “R e m b e r w h o y o u r f r i e n d s a r e . R e m b e r w h o y o u r r e a l l o v e r i s” Before Virgil can get any words out he feels like he’s falling and fast. Virgil lets out a startled gasp and tried to grab on to something even though nothing was there. He fell deep into the darkness, it was somehow getting darker and darker.

Then suddenly Virgil shoots up from the floor. “Virgil?” Roman says worried, Virgil didn’t say anything. Virgil was deep in thought, he had all the pieces but couldn’t put them together. “Remember who my friends are? Who my real lover is?” Roman could practically see the gears turning in Virgil’s brain. “Virgil, I’ll be right back I’m gonna go get Patton “ Patton…. Wait. “Roman wait don’t!” Virgil quickly grabbed Roman's arm before he could sink out. Virgil gulped. “I… I think Patton’s a bad person.” Roman rolled his eyes and smirked “What you two fought or something? What did he do, diss your emo music” Roman gave a quick chuckle but it quickly died when he saw the fear on Virgil’s face. “No nononono Roman your not getting it. Patton has lied to us, and has been whipping our memories and-and-and” “Woah calm down Virgil I think something bit you, and you're believing things that you made up in your head or worse, that evil snake put them there.” Roman said scrunching up his face. “Roman no. Listen to me, would I ever lie to you?” “No, but-” “Then I need you to trust me right now okay?” Roman nodded hesitantly. Virgil stood up on shaky legs and took a deep breath. Virgil looked Roman in the eyes, “We need to see the others.” “The dark sides? Why would we ever need to see-” Virgil put his hands on Roman’s shoulders “Trust me.” “But Patton said-” “We. Can’t. Trust. Patton.” Virgil huffs and sinks out with Roman.  

When Virgil and Roman rise up in the subconscious they see a pale weak Janus and a worried-looking Remus. When Virgil sees Janus he audibly gasps, “De…” Virgil makes a move to walk towards him but stopped himself. “What are you two doing here? Wouldn’t daddy be upset if he found out you two were on the wrong side of town?” Remus says with a sharp tone. “Remus…” Roman says in a low voice. “Shut up you know why I’m here, and I’m sorry you two were right.” “No really? Not like you shouldn’t have trusted us to begin with.” Janus says rolling his eyes. Virgil sighs and bites his tongue. “Thank you Deceit… For the” Virgil waves his hand around looking for the right word, “Reality check” Janus nods his head, “No problem, I wasn’t gonna lose another lover to Patton’s manipulation.” Virgil slightly flinches, he monetarily for that he and Patton were technically dating but before he can say anything Roman speaks. “I am still thoroughly confused. Patton? A bad person? It’s PATTON for pet sake, if you would’ve said Logan I MIGHT believe it but Patton?” Roman said disbelief written on his face. “If you don’t believe it then why are you here?” “Remus.” Virgil hisses at him. “Because I trust Virgil. And the look he had when he… remembered?” Roman said giving Virgil a questioning look to which Virgil nodded his head, yes to, “Well whatever. The look on his face made me feel uneasy… I guess I came just in case.” Roman says looking at the ground. “Well are you going to listen to us or are you going to follow precious Patton?” Janus says looking Roman in his eye. “I- I want to listen.” Janus squints at Roman for a few seconds before explaining everything. “Alright then. Sit down and I’ll explain 

When Janus finishes Roman is in shock. “I… Is this true?” Roman looked to Virgil. “It’s what I saw the first time you took me to the imagination if you even remember that,” Virgil said rubbing the back of his neck. “So what do we do?” Roman asks, “The four of us could probably take Patton out.” Janus said putting his hand on his chin. “We are NOT murdering Patton!” Virgil screamed at the same time Remus said “HELL YEAH MURDER”. “I agree with Virgil, even if Patton MIGHT deserve death, not saying he does, but Thomas needs his morality,” Roman said with a worried look. “Thomas would still have his Morality it just wouldn’t be Patton, or at least our Patton…” Janus said, “Besides even if this wasn’t the other case, Ve I just want things to go back to normal. I miss you and I’m sorry for making you choose if I didn’t-” Virgil cut Janus off while shaking his head, “No this is 100% my fault. I shouldn’t have been so desperate for answers, I should’ve waited until you and Remus were ready to tell me. “ “But we should’ve made an effort to tell you! We shouldn’t have kept this from you for so long, if I would’ve-” Virgil moved towards Janus and looked him in the eyes “Well maybe this is both of our faults but let’s move past this? I miss my boyfriend, my real boyfriend. I miss my home... “ Virgil said. 

As Janus was about to respond, there was clapping coming from the other side of the room. Everyone whipped their heads to see Patton standing by the wall in the hallway that connected to the bedrooms and the living room. “Well isn’t this cute?” Patton said a frown forming on his face, “You should learn to mind your business Deceit. Stop putting your nose in business that doesn’t involve you.” Patton said. “P-Patton,” Virgil said a bit a fear lingered in his voice. “Virgil I’m disappointed in you, usually you're so good, you just shut up and listen,” Patton said gritting his teeth. Virgil was visibly fighting Patton’s power now that he was aware of it. “N-no! Not this time. Not-” Patton clicked his tongue “I didn’t want to do this Virgil but you leave me no choice.” Patton said with a disappointed look on his face. 

Suddenly three knives appeared in his and before anyone could comprehend what was happening there was a home for each of the knives in someone's head except for Virgil’s. “JANUS!” Virgil screamed, because of how close Virgil was to him, some of his blood was on his face, on his hands. Virgil felt pain, he didn’t like this pain, it was unbearable he couldn’t take it. 

Patton walked towards Virgil and pulled Virgil towards him, into his arms. They didn’t feel warm anymore. Patton’s embrace felt cold and fake. 

Patton ran his fingers in Virgil’s hair “Remember baby, you stay with me” when those words left Patton’s mouth they sounded more like a demand than a question, the last command. And Virgil didn’t fight it.

A/N: FUCKING FINALLY. I did not plan for this idea to be this long but ya know it is what it is.The ending was a bit rushed could you tell? BUT NONE THE LESS I hope you guys enjoyed it! Feel free to check out my other works and this is my linktree . I hope to see you again some time but for now this is goodbye.

Last-end