#oh for the romantic over the necessary comes a price

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

synopsis. valentine’s day ( haikyuu version ). ever wonder how the haikyuu boys would spend the so called romantic holiday with you?

genre. fluff + crack

for @melukonova , @hearts4yuji / @kozuwhore , @reawakened-goddess , @diorlumx <3

ft. tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi, kotaro bokuto, daichi sawamura, koshi sugawara

gender neutral! reader.

➫ 𝓞𝗜𝗞𝗔𝗪𝗔 𝓣𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗨 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ oh you’re getting spoiled, that’s for certain. he’s got plans that involve chocolate, flowers, and a very cute plushie of himself<3

⌗ lots of kawa hugs and hand holding!! i stand firmly w the fact that he gives the absolute best hugs cuz he’s just so cuddly and sweet aaaa❤️

⌗ “happy valentine’s day my love~ today you get all of my affections for the price of your own!”

⌗ for a surprise date, he would take you out to a botanical garden and tell you the meanings of each flower that further conveys his love for you. isn’t he the sweetest? YES HE IS SHUT THE FUCK UP BC TOORU IS THE SOFTEST MOST INNOCENT BOYFRIEND EVER🙁❤️ but like i mean when he’s antagonistic i mean🤭 ANYWAY-

⌗ ahem, furthermore i believe pocky will make an appearance, maybe strawberry flavor!! and he will share his box with you.

⌗ finally down to the last stick, he would look at you with a smirk before letting out the most exasperated sigh.

⌗ “oh no, oh no y/n-chan.. there’s only one stick left! what other choice do we have but to share.. care to make it a competition, hm?”

⌗ he won. no further explanations needed.

➫ 𝓘𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝓗𝗔𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ah, iwa-chan.. the poor thing had to go to his dearest best friend a week beforehand for advice.. a tragedy, truly.

⌗ after a few threats to give his friend another injury to worry about, however, the wing spiker received all the necessary information and ideas required to execute valentine’s day to perfection for you!

⌗ hajime opted for a rather simple approach to valentine’s day that started with a letter he would hand to you. a formal invite to his home with an rsvp thing there as a joke LMAO he’s so silly

⌗ his cheeks were burning with red, a pout evident on his visage as his brows knitted together — something you found completely and utterly adorable as he asked you to read his note.

⌗ it was a heart clenching sight as you opened up a cute nintendo themed card that had happy valentine’s day written with a few silly video game puns. and just like that, his plans were revealed to be a date at home with the wii and any video games of your choice, since you liked them so much.

⌗ it was needless to say, that despite being rather decent in video games, especially mario related ones that he grew up on.. his skills dropped BELOW noob level because all he could focus on was you.

⌗ you just looked so happy playing, and the twinkle in your eyes made it impossible not to stare.

⌗ for each time that you whined at his lack of awareness, he would just laugh and say it was too hard to focus when your smile was right beside him. something he would much rather look at.

     ➫    𝓑𝗢𝗞𝗨𝗧𝗢   𝓚𝗢𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗢   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ his valentine’s day wishes for you was over the top, on behalf of the fukurodani volleyball club wishing you with cute posters once you’d arrived at the gym that day to see your boyfriend — who was acting weird all day because he wanted to tell you so badly..

⌗ his plans for today were to take you to a trampoline park! it just sounds super fun and he wants to show off a little.. but he ends up losing dodge ball to some kids😭

⌗ bokuto emo mode ensues.. but then he remembers you’re there and brightens right up again LMAO he’s so simple when it comes to you fr

⌗ took you to a bakery afterwards to get you your favorite desserts — and because he might have wanted some too.. come on, he can’t help it when they just looked so so good!

⌗ on the way home, you guys petted some kitties along the way and even commented that some resembled your friends back at nekoma high

⌗ he gifted you a light and dark gray owl plushie holding a rose as your gift and as a reminder of him always being there for you!!

⌗ “there you go, y/n-chan! now you’ll always have me with you and when you’re feeling down, just look at plush!”

⌗ valentine’s day ended off that night with long needed hug and the promise of seeing each other once more at practice the next morning<3

➫ 𝓢𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝓓𝗔𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗜 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ after some pushing from his trusted setter, koshi, to do something special, daichi finally got the courage to actually do something sweet for you this year

⌗ what are his plans, you might wonder? it’s simple, yet lovely. he found this spot where the sunset is prettiest in miyagi, and decided to take you there after preparing a nice late lunch at home and homemade chocolates that suga helped him make earlier in the week

⌗ he gave you your favorite flowers first thing that morning at school and a kiss on your head with a small grin

⌗ the team, however, didn’t fail to fluster him with their giggles and snickers as he yelled at them to get back to training..

⌗ it brought a laugh and smile to your face regardless, to see your boyfriend looking as silly and cute as he did, flustered despite how he normally carried himself

⌗ at last, the time came for your date and you were incredibly excited for where sawamura would be taking you. it was almost dusk, but that was exactly what he waited for

⌗ the two of you sat together on a blanket ( and one around you as well ) he’d brought with two cups of hot coco he’d poured out of a thermos he brought and shared a nice meal he’d prepped once he got home from school that day

⌗ the change of color in the sky was a beautiful sight, and yet he found himself looking over at you, a soft smile on his lips that he was able to spend the way with you

     ➫    𝓢𝗨𝗚𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗔   𝓚𝗢𝗦𝗛𝗜   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ he has seen enough romcoms, listened to loads of taylor swift and scrolled through hella cheesy couple related posts on pinterest to be able to devise the perfect valentine’s day outing with you!

⌗ koshi brought you chocolate covered strawberries he’d prepared the evening prior to valentine’s day all wrapped up in a pretty box with a note attached that conveyed his valentine’s day wishes for you<3

⌗ for his plans, he’d decided on taking you shopping at the mall and to a restaurant of your choice as his treat to you before taking you to karaoke

⌗ whatever music you like, he’d be happy to sing it with you and just have a super good time worth cherishing as memories<3

⌗ he’d searched up online which flowers to best express his love and created a bouquet for you that he would have had with him when he went to pick you up for your date

⌗ “ahaha, too much? happy valentine’s day, dearest y/n-chan!”

⌗ lots of hand holding, his hands are super soft and taken care of since he’s a setter and his hugs send you on cloud nine, he’s just so soft<3

⌗ it’s rather late when your finish your date, and he finds difficulty in allowing the day to end since he wants to be with you longer.. so you both have a sleepover woooo✨

notes. weehee happy valentine’s day brought you by some of the haikyuu boys because they are free therapy, wym it’s just a volleyball anime? anyways, also dedicated a bit to my girliepops, their favs🫶 enjoy<3

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[captain-mj]

So, Captain, since you wont tell us why so many people keep leaving your place with bones, how about you tell us about how the 141 spied on Price and Graves on their first date because they dont trust Graves 🧐🕵

Listen, i've told ya once, i've told ya twice, i ain't telling ya again. I don't know about the bones

Soap heard about the date and knew what must be done.

"We have to spy on them." He announced.

Gaz nodded. "Oh, absolutely. What if Graves tries to do something to Price? I don't even get why he agreed to go on the stupid date.”

Ghost, who knew a little more than he was letting on, nodded. "I'm always up for spying."

Soap planned it out, treating it like any other mission. “Operation: Heartbreakers. Our objective: Protect Price from Graves if he tries anything. Secondary objective: Gather information.”

Ghost hummed. "Is all of this really necessary?

"Yes. Ghost, you'll be doing what you do best and blending in. Hiding in the shadows. Gaz has already hacked their phones, brilliantly done by the way, and got their plans. Simple date. Restaurant first and then a movie. Nothing too big. Ghost will be watching in the restaurant and ill be in the movie theater.”

“And why do i have to be in the restaurant?”

“Easy. It’s more difficult to go stealth there. Price chose a rather dim one so it’ll be easy for you to blend in.”

"Dim?" Ghost asked.

"Apparently its mostly candlelit." Gaz shuddered. "Its rather romantic."

"Stupidly romantic for a traitor." Soap nodded. "Gaz, you'll be on the headset. Unfortunately, I was not able to scrounge up cameras but I assumed we could relay the information to each other. If Graves is planning to do anything, we can rendezvous quickly." He nodded and straightened up. "Everyone understand your assignments?"

Gaz nodded. "Mission accepted, Soap."

"Mission accepted." Ghost echoed. What the hell. It would be fun.

Ghost put his headset in and relaxed at the restaurant. He sat opposite of them and far enough away he wouldn't be visible. Instead of his skull mask, he wore a simple back medical one, something common in the area. His hood stayed over his head.

"What are they doing?" Gaz asked, currently at base where they would be coming back to.

"Talking."

"About what?" Soap asked, already in position in the theater.

"I don't know. I'm not close enough."

"Can you get closer?"

"No, Sergeants, I cannot. Now can both of you shut up." Ghost watched them. "Graves just touched his hand."

"Whore."

Ghost laughed softly. "Uh... I think he's tracing the lines in his palm? Oh, Price has a couple of scars on his hand, I think he's touching those."

"Price has scars on his hand?"

"Yeah. Someone stabbed a knife through it once. Left hand so it didn't affect his aim."

"Huh. Never noticed."

"You two should pay more attention then." Ghost watched them talk for a while, only making comments when something interesting happened like Price laughed or when Graves pulled up his sleeve to show the tattoos up and down his arm. Ghost couldn't quite make out what they were from here.

"They seem to be having a good time."

Soap hummed. "Stay on guard. Just in case."

Ghost shook his head and they started to leave. "They are on the move." Price paid for their food.

"Prepare yourself gentleman." Gaz spoke up. "Ghost, make sure to make a quick escape."

Ghost didn't try very hard honestly. They weren't on guard so neither noticed him trailing after him. He watched them buy tickets, noting that Graves paid for them and also got them drinks.

"They seem to be going dutch on the bills." Ghost noted. "Is it better or worse?"

Soap responded quickly. "Slightly better. Price isn't being bribed or taken advantage of it seems."

Ghost hummed. "What movie are they watching?"

"Some pretentious horror movie."

"Which one?"

"I don't know."

Gaz thought about it for a minute. "Yeah, I'm coming in. I refuse to sit out here for two hours bored."

Ghost bought two tickets and handed one of them to Gaz when he got there, walking in with him. They sat on either side of Soap who looked a bit upset his plan was being interrupted. The three of them were four rows behind Price and Graves.

Price put his arms around Graves and Graves leaned into him. They were talking quietly during the commercials.

"They're... kinda cute." Gaz said softly.

Soap frowned. "A little."

Ghost hummed. "Maybe Price will be good for Graves. And vice versa."

"How could Graves possibly good for Price?"

"Makes him happy. He hasn't dated in a while."

Gaz shushed them. "Movie is starting."

They all mostly watched the movie, sparing glances at the two lovebirds. Price leaned in and said something against Graves's ears, hand on the back of his neck. Graves leaned into him, putting his head on Price's shoulder. They were snuggled up closer to each other and Soap hummed.

"You think Price is copping a feel?"

"Shut your dirty fucking mouth." Gaz hissed at him.

"Just saying." Soap muttered.

The movie eventually ended and they quickly left so Price and Graves wouldn't notice them. They waited outside and watched them start to walk.

Price and Graves held hands, their joined hands swinging between them. They were both laughed, bumping into each other. Graves had a small limp due to the tank explosion so he ended up bumbling into Price a few times, looking embarrassed. Price ended up putting his arm around him instead, hand on his hip. Graves blushed brightly and they all heard him.

"What a gentleman, Captain." His southern accent was definitely being played up, he also sounded so flustered.

"Only for you, Commander." Price purred.

Gaz and Soap made a face. Ghost also pulled a face but no one could see it.

"So he hasn't done anything yet." Soap relented. "But I was just worried! Graves is still a bad guy."

They ended up looking around a corner as Price and Graves walked to their hallway.

"Should I walk you to your room or do you think you can find it?" Price smiled at him, the two of them standing right outside his door.

Graves smiled and flirted back. "I think I could find it, though your room definitely seems better right now."

Gaz and Soap gasped. Silently, but still.

Graves leaned up and gave Price a goodnight kiss. "So, a second date?" He sounded ridiculously hopeful, batting his eyelashes.

Ghost went to talk but Price interrupted by kissing Graves, pulling him closer by his belt loops. Price put his hand on his lower back and pulled him flush to his chest. "Stay the night?"

Graves quickly went in Price's room. Price turned directly to them and gave them a thumbs down before following him.

"That somehow hurt worse than if he yelled at us." Soap grumbled.

Gaz looked up at Ghost. "Lieutenant... Is Price a whore?"

"I didn't want to have to tell you guys the truth about him... But yeah. A little." Ghost put his hand on Gaz's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

[your-world-with-nct]

polaroid love | njm (2)

TWO — 1, 2, 3, 📸

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PAIRING | na jaemin x female reader (ft. dreamies + enhypen 02z)

GENRE | fluff, angst, college au

WARNINGS | intended lowercase, cursing, stem student slander, inaccurate photography terminology

WORD COUNT | 3.5k

SUMMARY | inspired by enhypen’s ‘polaroid love’ — in his twenty-two years of living, na jaemin has never been in a proper relationship. after witnessing his best friends go through their fair share of complicated, devastating heartbreaks, jaemin decided he was better off investing his time and effort into his studies, rather than wasting his time falling in love. years of having fleeting crushes and being countlessly confessed to passed by and not a single person could tempt jaemin into the world of love. that is, until, he meets someone that he can’t get out of his head no matter how long he stares at his anatomy textbooks. someone that reminds him of the hopeless romantic he once was. someone that can show him that love doesn’t have to be so complicated to succeed.

FIC PLAYLIST LINK | click here to enhance your reading experience!

HEADER KEY | • REC -> a character’s point of view | ■ GALLERY -> a flashback from that character’s point of view

Y/N CAM • REC

“thanks for agreeing to come so last minute,” jake smiled, fiddling with the straps of his camera bag as you walked side by side to the film and media building.

“oh, it’s no problem,” you naturally mirrored his grin, “how come hoon couldn’t make it though?”

“ah, he forgot his sister was performing at her school’s dance festival tonight, his parents came and picked him up before,” he explained, his steps slowing down as he checked the time on his phone.

you glanced over at your best friend and matched his new pace, “please, i was gonna say, when would park sunghoon ever pass up the chance to be your model?”

“that’s true, the man’s in love with his own beauty,” jake cupped his face with his hand, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he mocked your friend. “y’know as his photographer, his confidence is so helpful when i’m shooting, but as his friend? it makes me want to bash my head into a brick wall.”

you threw your head back in laughter, placing a hand on jake’s arm to steady yourself, “should i be worried for my shoot then or…?”

“absolutely not, y/n, you could never annoy me to that extent,” he reached to grab your hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. his touch lingered on yours for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and let go.

“wow, i’m flattered,” you paused to let three eager film students and their bulky equipment get past you, “also, i was thinking we could go get dinner after this. i’ll pay, since you did last time—take it as an apology for being embarrassing in front of your friend last week.”

jake winced at the memory of you rushing him and interrupting his conversation with jaemin, “well, apology accepted, do i get to choose where?”

“sure! uh, within a reasonable price range though,” you quickly added, remembering the many packages that were on their way from nights of (un)necessary online shopping.

“hmmm, i’m craving meat… can we go to that korean barbeque place with the turtle-shell grills? i love it there!” the boy was practically jumping up and down in excitement, and you knew you could never say no to him.

“sounds good, jakey! y’know my wallet happens to love it there too, they have a student discount,” you nudged him with your elbow, ending up accidentally winding him in the process.

muttering a few ‘sorry’s and gently rubbing the spot you’d hit a little too hard, jake opened the door to the studio eunjin had told them to meet in. as you laid eyes on a room of unfamiliar people, you subconsciously stuck closer to the only person you knew, bowing to eunjin just as jake had done, and following him to a spot where someone you thought you recognised was beckoning him over to.

“over here, jake!” the boy with the honey-brown hair waved, a pretty smile on his face that you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of.

“jaemin hyung! you know y/n, right?” jake nodded towards you, and you took that as a sign to detach yourself from his side, waving at the two older boys.

“ahh yes, i remember,” jaemin waved back, and gesturing next to him, he introduced his friend, “oh, and this is haechan.”

“the haechan that convinced your mutual friend that your name was ‘daeman’ for three months?” jake’s jaw fell open, recalling one of the many stories jaemin had told him about his best friends and housemates.

“yup, the man, the myth, the legend himself,” jaemin rolled his eyes at haechan’s announcement. “pleased to meet you both,” he took a dramatic bow, his humorous actions melting your nerves, “i’ve heard a lot about you!”

“lee haechan!” jaemin gritted his teeth at his friend, his eyes widening in shock and embarrassment, “haha… what he meant by that was, uh, i, um, i sometimes tell the guys about what happens at photography club and you’re usually in those stories, jake.”

“wow, i’m honoured to be the main character of your stories, hyung,” jake proudly put a hand on his chest, “ah, that’s right, do you know why eunjin noona asked us to bring someone with us today?”

before jaemin could even answer, eunjin called for the room’s attention, “good afternoon, everyone! for those of you who came as models today, thank you and a warm welcome to you all. my name is kang eunjin and i’m the president of the photography club. i’ll be leading today’s session, where we’ll be taking photos for split-personality portraits. however, i don’t expect the models to be dressed for a split-personality look, instead, you will be paired with another photographer and model.”

out of the corner of your eye, you saw jake glance over at jaemin, tilting his head as if to ask him if he wanted to partner up, to which he was met with a nod and an eager thumbs up.

“next week, using the photos from the two models, you’ll be editing those photos to create a split-personality portrait containing each model. i recommend you choose someone who has a similar style to you, but what you decide to do with your models will be completely up to the two of you. you can create as much of a contrast between them as possible, or make them appear as similar as possible, whatever you’d like. we have enough backdrops set up so that none of the groups have to share. you have an hour so, go wild, and don’t forget, you can come to me if you have any questions!” eunjin concluded, as everyone hurried to find partners that they were satisfied with.

meanwhile, your little group had already decided for themselves, claiming the white backdrop you’d been lingering by for the past few minutes.

you watched as jaemin and jake set up the lighting and discussed their ideas for the shoot whilst you stood to the side, checking your face in your phone’s camera to ensure you looked, at the very least, decent.

“sorry if i was a bit much before,” haechan popped up behind you, making you jump. “my friends always tell me to tone it down when i’m meeting new people but, well, i can’t help but let my natural charm shine through.”

you laughed, his interesting sense of humour and overflowing self-confidence reminded you of your friend sunghoon, and the familiarity made you feel more comfortable, “that’s okay, sunbae, it definitely helped me feel less nervous, since i don’t really know anyone here except from jake.”

“no problem but, hey, none of that sunbae stuff,” he shook his head, “you can just call me haechan. i know i’m a fourth year and all but it just… it makes me feel ancient.”

“okay then, haechan,” you felt much more at ease speaking casually, “what’s your major? i’m a philosophy major, second year.”

“ooh, philosophy! i have a friend who’s doing his masters in philosophy. i double major in business and psychology, since i wanna go into consumerist psychology after graduating.”

“woah, that sounds so cool– oh, um, i think you’re, uh, needed,” you tapped his shoulder and pointed at jaemin, who currently had his arms crossed and lips pursed, sending glares at the chatty haechan.

“well, thank you, y/n! i was starting to think he was deaf or something,” jaemin stuck his tongue out at his friend, who was mocking him in a high-pitched voice as he made his way over to the backdrop.

you tried to hold back your laugh at their immature antics, covering your mouth with your hand. who would’ve thought that those two were older than you, let alone grown adults.

the childish bickering didn’t last long though; as soon as haechan had the lens pointed at him, his professionalism settled in and, if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought he was actually a model.

your gaze, however, quickly drifted away from him and landed on the man behind the camera. you couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was just something so charming about the way jaemin calmly led the shoot, instructing haechan on how to pose and adjusting the light to various angles to capture the perfect shots.

he looked just as enchanting, if not more, with a serious, concentrated expression on his face instead of a beaming grin, as he monitored his progress and shared his results with his partner.

“hey, jake, i know i’m sending haechan’s photos to you anyway, but i think it would be good if you got some shots of your own in, they’ll look more consistent and it’ll make it easier for you when you’re editing,” jaemin stepped back, encouraging jake to take his place.

“okay, sounds good, we’ll start y/n’s shots in a bit then,” you snapped out of your daze when you heard your name, giving your best friend a nod of understanding, even though you had no idea what he was talking about.

“sorry for keeping you waiting for so long,” the last thing you expected was the boy you’d been staring at for the past fifteen minutes to appear next to you. “i’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to this stuff,” he let out a breathy laugh, drumming his fingers on top of his camera.

you placed a hand on your chest to calm your rapid heartbeat–caused by the shock of jaemin’s unexpected presence, or maybe by jaemin himself; let’s just say it was both.

“oh, no worries, i actually enjoyed watching you… photograph! it was nice watching you, uh, work, yeah!” your little slip-up made you want to bash your head into a brick wall.

“i mean, i don’t know much about photography, but you looked like a real professional back there,” you said in an attempt to revive the conversation.

your compliment brought a shy smile to his face, “thank you, but i’m no expert, i just like taking photos for fun.”

“who said you can’t be an expert at something you do for fun? it’s not like those things are… oh, what’s the word! they’re not, they’re not, uhh—”

“mutually exclusive?” jaemin knew he had gotten exactly what you meant by the way your mouth fell open slightly and you nodded at him.

“yes, that! of course you knew, you’re a stem major, right?” you vaguely remembered jake mentioning how they had bonded over photography being their creative escape.

“yikes, is it that obvious? it’s not the eyebags, is it? i promise it’s not because of the heavy workload, it’s just ‘cause i have an awful habit of having coffee at night. jeno’s trying to help me limit it to the mornings but— i-i’m so sorry, i’m rambling, aren’t i?” jaemin’s lively speech came to an end as he forced a laugh to cover up his embarrassment.

his shyness from before quickly returned, but you had to admit, you liked his chattiness, and you didn’t want him to stop any time soon. it was almost… cute?

you shook your head lightly, as if that would physically rid yourself of the thought, “it’s okay! i’m usually the one that’s doing the rambling so i don’t mind at all. plus, i only know you do medicine because jake told me that his brother was in the same biochem class as you last year.”

“ahh, that’s right,” the older boy sighed, “i’m guessing you’re an arts major, then?”

“humanities, actually. i do philosophy, which some people think is a social science but i personally don’t think it really fits, even though it has its links in psychology, and i guess sociology too if we’re talking about—” you brought your hand up to your mouth to stop yourself before you went any further, “haha, y-you don’t need to know all that. sorry, this is exactly what i meant before.”

“no, no, it’s fine!” jaemin reassured you, that pretty smile was back on his face, “oh, that reminds me, i was meaning to ask if you would mind giving me your number before, so i could send you the pictures we take today.”

it took you a moment to register what he had said, but once you did, you didn’t waste any time. “o-of course, yeah, that’s fine! i’ll even give you my socials while we’re at it,” you took his phone that he held out to you and typed in your number.

“just out of curiosity, how exactly did me going on about my major remind you to get my number? if anything, if i were you, i would’ve been put off of asking.”

jaemin let out a giggle, taking his phone back from you, “well, after you apologised, i was thinking, if you were ever desperate to have a long rant but had nobody to rant to, i wouldn’t mind being the one to listen to that—after all, i met you properly like, what, not even an hour ago? but you’ve already heard about my housemates and my crippling caffeine addiction, if you were anyone else, i can’t guarantee i would’ve even spoken.”

you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat when you heard jaemin’s answer, “oh, you’re so sweet, and, hey, same goes for you. you can ramble to me about anything, just promise me you won’t block me if i spam you too much?”

“yes, as long as you don’t block me if i text you at ungodly hours of the night.”

he laughed as he intertwined his pinky with yours, the sudden warmth of his touch had your breath hitching at the back of your throat. it took a moment for you to regain your composure, and when he eventually responded, you could barely hear him over the deafening thumping of your heart.

“of course—”

“ahem, miss y/n!” jake’s loud cough brought your attention to him, reminding you that you weren’t in fact in a world of your own with jaemin, but a studio instead, “get here now or you’re losing your instagram photographer privileges.”

you were immediately distracted from your best friend’s empty threat when you felt jaemin press his thumb pad against yours, locking your promise. he leaned closer to you, lowering his voice slightly, “you should go, if jake keeps his word and you ever need a photographer for your instagram pics, you have my number,” he flashed a smile at you as he let go of your hand, gesturing for you to join your impatient friend.

even as you positioned yourself against the backdrop, you couldn’t take your eyes off of jaemin, nor forget the way his hand felt against yours.

JAKE CAM • REC

jake clicked through the shots he’d taken, his eyes flitting between the screen and your face, checking for your approval, “y’know, if you’re happy with these, then we don’t need to do any more, i’ve got enough pictures to choose from.”

you nodded, satisfied with your photos, “yup, they’re all good! not that i expected anything less from you, jakey. does that mean we’re done then?”

the boy felt the warmth rush to his cheeks at your compliment, hiding his reddening face by immersing himself with the settings of his camera. he cleared his throat before answering, “i-i mean, i’ve got all that i need but, hey, jaemin hyung, do you wanna get a few pics too?”

“oh, yeah,” jaemin was already picking up his camera and reaching to adjust the lighting after jake’s reminder, “don’t worry, y/n, i won’t keep you too long.”

you giggled, making your way back over to your spot by the backdrop, “it’s fine, you don’t mind waiting, right, jake?”

he looked up from his camera, nodding, “course not, i’ll start putting my stuff away now so i don’t end up being the victim of your hangry rage again.”

your jaw dropped at your best friend’s not-so-subtle dig, “hey, watch your mouth, unless you wanna pay for your own food later.”

even when you were trying to be intimidating, jake couldn’t help but find you cute, his teasing scowl dissolving into a wide grin when you furrowed your eyebrows and glared at him, “sorry, sorry!”

“you better be!” he heard you say as he went to return the lighting gels he’d used, sneaking a few glances at you every now and then to check how you were doing with jaemin.

“oh, you’re done already?” haechan said out of the blue, shocking jake to the point where he almost dropped his camera.

“hyung! ah, you scared me,” the younger boy steadied himself and placed his camera in its bag before he could do any damage.

“damn, that’s the second time that’s happened today, am i that scary? or was i just that quiet?” haechan asked, more to himself than to jake.

“no, no, i just get spooked easily. trust me, my friends love taking advantage of that,” he chuckled, “but yeah, we finished already, jaemin hyung’s just getting a few photos of y/n as well.”

“oh, okay, that was quick, you two must work well together, huh?” haechan looked down at the time on his phone, and then at you in front of the backdrop, following the poses that he’d been doing before.

jake followed his gaze, a smile naturally making its way onto his face, “yeah, i’ve been using her for my photos since high school, so i guess she’s just gotten used to what to do by now.”

“ah, i was watching you guys take pictures before and you just seemed to work so well together. that, plus how you were teasing each other, had me wondering whether you were, y’know, together,” haechan shifted his focus back onto jake, his eyes widening out of curiosity.

“oh, uhh, t-together, as in like–”

“like, are you and y/n dating?”

jake’s face fell as soon as the question came out of haechan’s mouth. of course he knew what he meant by ‘together’, he just didn’t want to believe it was what he thought. it wasn’t like he’d never heard the question before—in fact, he’d been asked that countless times—but, my god, did he hate it.

noticing jake’s uneasy expression, haechan was quick to apologise, “oh, was that too far? i’m sorry, i-i was just being nosy, i didn’t realise it would make you feel uncomfortable–”

“no, it’s okay, i was just… surprised is all,” jake tried to cover his discomfort with a smile, eyes darting around the room to look at anything but you.

now, it wasn’t the question itself that jake despised; if he was being honest, he secretly loved the assumption that you and him were dating. what he hated was the answer—the fact that the answer wasn’t yes.

“no, w-we’re not together,” jake mumbled, wincing as he spoke the words that shattered his heart.

“sorry, what did you say? your club president was yelling something, i couldn’t hear you properly,” haechan leaned closer to him in an attempt to block out eunjin’s voice.

“we’re… not together,” jake said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

“oh…” haechan replied. his lacklustre response was followed by a few beats of awkward silence before he properly reacted, “well, that’s great!”

jake’s head snapped up, confused at his unexpectedly positive reaction, “wh-what?”

“yeah!” haechan enthusiastically nodded. “i was just checking because, and you didn’t hear this from me, but,” he lowered his voice, subtly gesturing towards you and jaemin.

“someone has taken an interest in y/n and wanted to know whether or not he had a chance with her before he went ahead and made a move.”

all jake could do was let out a quiet “really?”, too focused on the fact that the broken pieces of his fragile heart had just been stomped on and destroyed.

“mhm, so, just making sure, you guys definitely aren’t together, right?” haechan asked for confirmation, “oh, and she isn’t with anyone else, is she? there’s nobody else she’s interested in or involved with right now?”

for a moment, jake considered saying yes–yes, there was someone else for you, someone you’d known and loved for years, someone who just didn’t know it yet. it was just one little white lie, right?

but, would it really be worth it? would robbing you of the chance to be with a kind and caring partner who would cherish you and treat you right be worth a few more months of silent, aching pining? it would hurt him to see you with someone else, but his feelings had no right getting in the way of your happiness. your love life wasn’t his to control, and he loved you too much to sabotage you like that.

taking a deep breath, jake faced haechan with a much more sincere smile, “no, there’s nobody jaemin hyung needs to worry about, and i’m happy to, y’know, help him out with y/n if he needs it.”

his eyes drifted over to you, huddled over jaemin’s camera, laughing at whatever he’d just said. jake felt his heart swell at the sight–even if he wasn’t the one behind that beautiful smile of yours, he was content knowing the person that was was someone he trusted and knew would make you happy.

“really? thanks, man, i know jaem will really appreciate it,” haechan’s voice drew jake out of his distracted daze.

“of course,” he answered, his focus on you unwavering, “anything for y/n.”

© YOUR-WORLD-WITH-NCT, 2023

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #57

It is Valentine's Day in my part of the world! I cannot stress enough that my feelings for you are strictly platonic. But all the same, I'll wish you a happy Valentine's Day. And I hope you'll do your best to remember that your existence is one of the things that puts the necessary strength and courage in my bones so that I can, against all odds, rise up and face another day in this weird, sad, broken, but still beautiful world that I live in. As far as we of my world have been made aware, you have no interest in romantic or sexual relationships, right? So I hope that today, you'll take the time to reflect fondly upon the friendships you shared with Zack, Genesis, and Angeal. I hope that today, you'll reflect upon all the ways you are cared for and needed in both your world and in mine.

Today, my husbands and I went out to get lunch! It's nice that almost no one where we live seems too troubled by the fact that we are a trio. I got a burger that I thought would be good, but it had unexpected barbecue sauce on it (though barbecue-flavored things are very popular where I live, I strongly dislike that flavor for some reason…). I finished it anyway because the chef did his best (it's not his fault that I don't like barbecue sauce!) and I dislike wasting food even more than I dislike barbecue sauce.

But I got some fried green tomatoes that… I…!!! am…!!! …just now realizing!!! many hours after the fact…!!! that I didn't take a picture of for you!!! because fried green tomatoes are one of my favorite things and I scarfed it down before I thought to snap a photo, oh no!!! 😵

I'm very sorry. 😖 But I'll tell you what!!! Next time we go to this place (which will be soon, because it's very close to Physical Therapy, where I have to go once a week anyway because my cartilage is apparently made of freaking noodles, good grief…), I will make sure I take a good picture of the fried green tomatoes! Count on it!!

I did, however, think to take a picture of this place's weekly crème brûlée! It's a new flavor every week! This week, it was mixed berry! And oh my goodness, it was delicious!!! I wish I could have shared some with you!

Physical Therapy came and went, and now I have fancy kinesiology tape applied to my ribs and collarbone, to try to keep the relevant bones in their sockets so that they don't wander around all stupid. Success is mixed, but it's better than nothing. I'll lie down on the floor on the Backpod before bed and hope that helps a little more.

And now, I am in Somerset, Pennsylvania! This is very unusual!! Because I live around 7 hours away by car! But we are here because one of my husbands (we'll call him J) is learning how to fly airplanes, and he wants to make a trip across the country in honor of his brother, who died. I'll give you additional context later. But: in order to make this trip, J needs his own airplane. A small airplane is CRAZY expensive, but he's been working hard and saving up. Recently, he found one that is at a reasonable(ish) price near Somerset. And so here we are, so that J can look it over and make sure it's not a rusted bucket of bolts that'll come undone as soon as we get off the ground!

My other husband (we'll call him M), who typically does not like to go very far from home, is at the house with the cats, holding the fort, so to speak! M is extremely introverted, so I'm sure that having the house to himself for a day or two will be very refreshing for him!

I have gone along with J, in part because I like seeing new places and new things, and also in part because someone has to make sure that J eats proper food and sleeps in an actual bed. I can trust him to drink water nowadays, but still, if left to his own devices, he'll likely sleep in the car and only eat bread, and then get upset and destabilized because he didn't sleep well and hasn't had a balanced meal. In addition, J has a tendency to spiral into anxiety and self-loathing if left by himself for too long. I'm not much different from him in that regard; for both of us, it stems from low self-esteem, but we're working on it!

M does not have either of these troubles; though he has social anxiety, his self-esteem is very much intact, and it's beautiful! I can also trust that M will sleep where it's comfy for him and eat when he's hungry. But M does not like to be away from home for very long, and his legs get very uncomfortable if they've gotta be cramped in the car for a long time. I do not mind being away from home, and I do not mind a long car trip. So I go in order to help keep J balanced, stable, and safe, and M makes sure everything at home is chill.

Like all humans, the three of us all have our weaknesses. But when we work together, we can cover each other's weaknesses with our strengths so that we can do together what would otherwise seem unimaginable as individuals! The three of us complement each other very nicely, and with our powers combined, we keep each other functional and sane! Hahaha! We do all struggle with our respective mental health issues, but our dynamic is healthy and based on mutual care and respect.

So… J and I have been in the car together for the last seven hours, talking about various things and looking at the various sights. It was awesome! But J had to do all the driving; he drives a car with a manual transmission. Between the dyspraxia making it difficult to coordinate the movements for that, and the rib injury making it difficult for me to use my right arm without a lot of pain, learning how to drive with a manual transmission just isn't in the cards for me right now. So when J drives, my role is usually to navigate and to take pictures when I can! I took a bunch, but I'm not sure how good they came out, given that they were taken in a moving vehicle by a dyspraxic weirdo; I suppose I'll let you be the judge, hm?

J and I were still too full from lunch to stop and get anything more substantial than snacks. But guess what! You'll never guess, so I'll tell you!! I found snacks out here that we don't have where I live, up in New York State! Check 'em out:

These are CHEESEBURGER FLAVORED SUNFLOWER SEEDS!!! And also PIZZA FLAVORED SUNFLOWER SEEDS!!! And chocolate cups filled with Jello pudding! And I was SO EXCITED!!! Because they looked novel and awesome!!! And!!! As it turns out!!! ALL THREE OF THESE THINGS TASTED LIKE DISAPPOINTMENT!!! Ahahahaha~!! 🤣

Ah well! Not all of the things we try can work out, right? 😁 It keeps things interesting! And now I never have to wonder about these things again! Because now I know!

Also, I was very much hoping that the cheeseburger flavored sunflower seeds might be a viable replacement for the cheeseburger flavored Doritos that used to exist a long time ago:

They were SO GOOD!!! I have NO IDEA why they stopped making them!!! But now they are nothing but a distant memory, and the sunflower seeds cannot even begin to compare to them. Alas.

On the bright side, the tea-flavored gummies were absolutely delightful! I wish I could share them with you! I wish I could share lots of things with you. This continues to be a non-trivial source of grief for me. Ah well; I don't mind to carry it if it means that at very least I get to know that you exist (in a sense, anyway).

Anyhoot. I am at the place where we're gonna sleep now. J decided to take a picture of me, with my messy hair and weird rainbow socks (I never wear the same sock on each foot; this is on purpose!), as I composed today's letter to you! I'll send it along so that you can know I'm in one piece!

I wonder what your socks look like. Do you have secret rainbow-colored socks under all your black clothing? It would be neat if you do! And it would be neat if you don't, too! 😄

In any case, if I gotta stay in one piece, then you gotta stay in one piece too, got it? Because if you disappear, lots of people (myself included) will never be the same, in the worst possible way. Please stay safe out there. Please remember that you're loved and come back to us. We'll be waiting for you. Or at very least, I will wait for you, as long as it takes you to turn yourself around.

I don't know what tomorrow is going to look like; it will be in an unfamiliar place and full of uncertainty. But one thing that is certain is that I will make the time to write to you. Count on it.

Your friend, Lumine

[raisindave]

[Chapter 50] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

At least the interrogation room wasn't as industrial and soulless as the others you've found yourself cornered in. There was no stark white lighting or metal furniture that looked like embalming tables. This room was nice at least, almost pleasant. It had actual wooden furniture that looked hand-crafted, with calming amber lighting from overhead. Small, narrow windows near the ceiling invited beams of sunlight into the room, bright enough to watch dancing dust cascading as a result of your entrance. It was almost romantic if it weren't for the horrifying context. 

A wide oak table sat in the middle of the room, where your three justiciars sat preparing your trial. Laswell gestured that you sit near her at the end of the table, Price seated next to her. To your dismay, Graves was there. He'd settled himself at the far end, flicking a pen between his fingers as he shared you a base courtesy nod. So here you are. Your judge, jury, and executioner. Your wood chair dragged over the terracotta tiles in a way that made your hairs stand on end, if they weren't already. 

"I'm sure you know why we called you in today, Miss Grant," Price said in that grumbly tone he'd always sported, pensively tapping a bottle of what looked like an expensive brand of coconut water on the wood table. 

Their eyes pierced through you, scathing, knowing. Unfortunately, you do know. It's hard to say which emotion is stronger: embarrassment or sadness. Even with the decent lighting, shadows darkened around you, and you couldn't help but wipe your damp palms across your cargo pants. You crossed and recrossed your boots since you couldn't find a position that relieved this bone-crushing pressure. You swallowed hard. 

"What happened in there, Sergeant? What happened when you were off comms there with Ghost," Graves spoke up in that twangy southern tone, immediately jumping into confrontation. 

Your heart sank. Another hard gulp forced incoming vomit back down your throat. Your forehead trickled with an icy chill, and all colour drained from your vision. 

I can't believe after everything, all the good work I've done, my career in this task force is cut short like this. Eliminated because I made a few rash, lust-fueled decisions. It was so inappropriate. They'll ask me to resign if they're feeling kind, but the look on Price's grim face says he doesn't have much patience with me. They'll discharge me, send me home, and I'll get a hefty letter of condemnation to sit with me, alone in my dread. 

"I need you to tell us everything, Cricket," Laswell clicked a pen alive as she spoke, preparing to take notes. 

How am I going to explain this to Chucky? He won't exactly believe me if I say they just let me go, and I don't know if I have the strength to lie to him. I'm going to miss Soap and Gaz, and I'll never see Farah again, either. 

"Ghost said you did a good job at getting him talkin', I'll give you that," Price chuckled lowly in a way that made you sick to your stomach. 

He told them everything ? I'm surprised he was willing to admit I'd bested him like that. He's got more balls than I thought, but Price's shallow praise won't do me any good. I have to come forward. I can't go down as a coward. I have to own it. 

Your mouth rounded as you prepared to speak. 

"Oh wouldja' knock it off, Sergeant?" Graves leaned in, throwing his hand up in frustration. "Do you think all these boys haven't done the same when their superiors aren't looking? "

…What?

"Sometimes a forced confession is a necessary evil, and I wish we could have given you time to prepare for such an ask. Such is the nature of this field," Laswell sighed as Price gave an audible 'mhmm' in agreement. 

Oh. Oh! The transcript. The guy I shot back at the dam, the guy we tortured. That's what they've been asking about this whole time.  

"I haven't had time to write a formal transcript, but I can have a finalized version by 08:00-" you spoke with forced confidence. 

"To hell with the transcript, we wanna know now. What happened?" Graves bit back, interrupting your stammering. 

"He wasn't giving us anything for the first while, but eventually he broke. He started talking about 'blowing us all sky high' or something of the sort. And- and he mentioned you by title as if he's familiar with the crew. Something about Laswell at the observatory and the rest of the task force. He said they, the Separatists and the Russians, had been in our comms since Verdansk- our previous mission." you rambled along, trying to patchwork day-old sentences. The mention of your radio comms being tapped sparked Laswell and Price to share a glance that didn't go unnoticed. 

"I called in the mayday as soon as I got the intel, and you already know the rest."

"That's when the spooky fella' put him to bed," Graves chirped. 

"Yes," you spoke, praying your confusion wouldn't register. 

"We found whose device was tapped," Price tossed a black device that skid across the table, a device you recognized. "It's yours."

Spiking blood pressure entirely halted in your bloodstream. 

"Wh-I would never-"

"We know it wasn't intentional," Laswell cut in, saving you from an unnecessary plea. "You had no way of knowing. They must have slipped a bug into it at some point when you were restrained at the stadium in Verdansk." 

"It's just information, Sergeant. How many countless lives did you save when you made one terrorist sing," Graves leaned back in his seat, exasperated. 

Graves seemed agitated by your reluctance to torture an untried civilian, a prospect that agitated you in turn. He sees softness in your hesitance, whereas you see a warmonger in his keenness. A sly smirk on his face only solidified your disdain, but in the face of three superior officers, you retained your composure. 

"Well, we'll need you to write a detailed transcript like we asked. Tell us everything he said all the way up until Ghost executed him," Price stated firmly, passively twirling the bottle on the smooth table. 

"We'll be expecting it tomorrow morning," Laswell nodded, eyeing you to gauge your response. 

"Yes, ma'am," you spoke with sudden renown. 

Suddenly, the room wasn't quite as dark as it was a few minutes ago. Lingering adrenaline made your muscles feel like you could run a marathon in record time, and the strain on your heart made you slightly lightheaded. Holy fuck, that was close. No time to fuck around. You have your work cut out for you. Considering you're the only living person who knows exactly what was said in his confession, the onus is on you to deliver the truth. Laswell placed a booklet and pen in front of you, one that you slid through clammy fingers. Just as you felt confident enough to rise to find a new place to begin this tedious task, Graves' voice cut you off. 

"You're not excused just yet, little miss. Ghost did give you a report card, said you were hurtin' for some combat training." 

"Well, we weren't exactly expecting to have her in a combat zone," Laswell glanced over her shoulder to Graves' position at the far end of the table. 

"You have to expect the unexpected. There's nothin' wrong with a bit of practice." Price's jovial but cynical grin under his moustache suggested the matter was set in stone. 

That fucker. 

"Yes, sir," you spoke through a tight-lipped smile. 

Price slamming his hand on the table nearly made you jump out of your skin, and he seemed to snap back to his casual and stoic self. Of all the people in the room, he's the least likely to care about dwelling on your reluctance. He's got a point after all, but it's just that you wished it didn't come from the source that it did.  

"Excellent. We'll find someone to train you. Expect lessons every morning once you pass in your transcript," he boomed lightheartedly, taking a long, dragging drink from his coconut water before continuing. "Good shit, Cricket, you're excused."

Another nod was shared with your jury, and your chair squealed under you as you rose to slightly unsteady feet. You smiled politely as they scanned your every movement, turning sharply to leave the room. 

"Oh, and Cricket—" Laswell spoke up just as you planted your palm on the brassy doorknob. “There's a gala coming up in a few weeks. Some ministers and state supporters wanted to celebrate the soldiers and crews who were on the front line against the Separatists. You're invited." 

"I'd be happy to attend," you replied dutifully, folding your hands behind your back. 

"You'll have to do some shopping, though. I didn't include anything appropriate in your pack. It's a black-tie event."

"I won't be wearing my formal uniform?" you queried, furrowing your brows in confusion.

"No, you'll just be a guest for this one," she smiled calmly, absently tapping her fingertips on the table with her hand that wasn't bound by the sling. 

Your eyes darted to Price and back to Laswell. They both seemed like stern, motionless titans. It's a gala thrown in honour of the troops that brought down the terrorists in Al Mazrah, and you're a guest? It's beyond a slap in the face; it's downright insulting. With all the bubbling emotions churning in your brain paired with the three sets of pale eyes drilling into you, you swallowed that initial insult in favour of diplomacy. 

"Yes, Ma'am," you repeated. 

Another flicker of smiles to Price and Laswell excused you; Graves was mulling over a laptop he'd cranked open at some point in the conversation. This time, it felt like you could actually be excused, and you took your leave back through the wooden door. The second your face passed through the threshold, cool air surged into your sinuses and administered an immediate dosage of relief. A click from behind you left you at ease with the fact that you now had a barrier between you and that stuffy room, and your back immediately collided with the cool, smooth plaster walls. Sighing to catch your breath, after a few more gasps, you spotted the culprit across a sunny courtyard. 

Even in the shade of an archway, Ghost looked like a shadow made real, out of place in the brilliant sunlight. Frankly, you couldn't be fucked to deal with him right now. He can choke. Your back parted from the support of the wall, and your footsteps led you back to the main building, armed with a currently vacant notebook. Too many emotions and thoughts, paired with unused adrenaline made you uneasy. But there was no time for nonsense. A deathly serious task is asked of you, and you have no choice but to deliver. Not only are you transcribing days-old memories of conversations that happened under extreme stress, but you're also dealing with the inherent duress that comes with sleeping with your colleague on the job. Your superior. All while the rest of the crew was fighting for their lives. 

Your trajectory brought you to the food court to gather an armful of fruit and a bowl of that stale sugary cereal they always seem to have, and that'll appease your hunger until morning. It'll probably be a long night for you, so a coffee or two would also be wise. The shadow had left his position from where you'd last seen him. If he was half the man you thought he was, he'd know that now isn't the time to chat. Not to mention the combat training you'll be forced to entertain for the foreseeable future thanks to his input to your boss, along with the fact that you're getting zero recognition for your sacrifice in the past few months. 

It's hard to say if the bubbling spite is genuine or a consequence of overstimulation and a lack of proper nutrition, but the resentment still sticks like a thorn in your side. When you joined the service, you weren't expecting every commanding officer to kiss your boots every time you completed an expected task. But with all the work you've poured over, the inujuries you've suffered, and the despair you've faced, it'd be nice to get a little more than a 'good shit' from Price. In the meantime, your colleagues will be worshipped like gods walking among mere mortals decorated in gleaming chest candy while you're just a guest.  

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Master List

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S PRICE - CHAPTER 8

*Warning: Adult Content*  

It isn't until Noah Hunter returns to Grace and Chloe’s Cottage for dinner that he realizes he completely forgot to ask Julian about the address Dr. Thorne had given him. 

Instead, Noah asks Grace, once he’s finished wolfing down his second helping of jambalaya, that is.

"Ooh, Lakeside Avenue," she says, studying the card with the address. 

"That's posh real estate. I don't know it well, but I doubt there's a house on that street that would sell for less than a million."

Noah frowns at that. 

Until he finds a job, he'll be living off his savings, which aren't as robust as they should be. 

‘Dr Thorne hadn't mentioned rent but 'posh' sounds out of my price range.’

"Who walks around with their address printed on business cards, anyway?" Chloe asks, turning the card over to inspect the other side. 

"It's just his address, too. Like, no name, no phone number..."

"Well, he did say he was looking for a rent partner," Noah offers, although it doesn't make sense to him either, really.

"Hm. Well, what's your impression of this guy?" Grace asks, leaning towards him across the table. 

"I mean, he obviously likes animals, so point there but then again Buffalo Bill loved his dog, too."

"I..." 

‘Honestly, I'm not sure what I think of Ambrose Thorne.’ 

"I don't know. I mean, I've talked to him twice, for a total of less than ten minutes. He's...attractive, and seems a little...arrogant, maybe. Other than that, I don't know."

“Do you want us to come with you to look at his place?" Grace asks. 

"We could run interference for you."

"Oh... no, that's not necessary," Noah says quickly. 

"Besides, I don't know if I'll even check it out."

"Okay. And don't rush into anything if you do," she adds. 

"You're welcome here, Noah, for as long as you need."

Noah returns her smile, though he knows it doesn't really reach his eyes.

He’s grateful, of course but part of him is already eager to be gone. 

Not because of Chloe or Grace, or their house, both they and it are wonderful, and he knows in his head that what they say is true, just like he knows that what Dane said is true.

It's his heart that refuses to believe it, that's still too full of hurt to have room for anything like trust, especially in the idea that people love him and actually want him around.

The following afternoon finds Noah standing on the sidewalk in front of 411 Lakeside Avenue, repeatedly looking from the address on the card in his hand to the tarnished brass numbers affixed to the brick wall in front of him.

Through an iron gate he stares up at the house, the ‘mansion’ rather, trying to decide if this is more likely to be a joke or a mistake.

He doesn't know a lot about architecture but he recognizes the style as being something like Colonial, or maybe Greek Revival. 

It has pillars and gables, three stories, rows of windows with actual shutters and multiple brick chimneys rising from a roof with more levels and angles than he can count. 

It also appears to have seen better days.

The grounds at least, seem to be in disrepair, with what was once a garden of some sort now a wilderness of overgrown rosebushes and weeds. 

The paint on the trim also looks to be peeling in places and one of the upper windows is broken. 

Overall, it gives a romantically haunted impression that sends a shiver down Noah’s spine.

A shiver that turns into a startled gasp as a voice speaks suddenly and very close at his back.

"Bit of a wreck, isn't she? But it's what's inside that counts."

Noah turns, resisting the reflex to press his hand over his heart like the heroine of some Victorian drama and finds Ambrose Thorne watching him with a curious look in his brown eyes.

“Mr. Hunter. Didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon." 

His arms are full with two brown paper bags stuffed to the brim with groceries and a dog-leash is looped around one wrist. 

At the other end of this is the golden retriever, head still stuck in the plastic cone, watching Noah with pure adoration in it’s eyes.

‘As if I didn't already feel guilty enough for running it over.’

“I, uh, I was in the area," Noah lies. 

"I thought I'd have a look. At your place, that is."

Ambrose smirks.

"Well, come on in. I'll show you 'round." 

He circles Noah and balances on one foot, trying to unlatch the rusty iron gate blocking the footpath with his other.

Noah moves to help, opening it and standing aside while he and the dog go through.

“Oh, no, I don't want to trouble you," Noah says. 

"Besides, I don't think this is the place for me. It's much too..."

Noah searches his vocabulary but comes up blank.

"Grand?" Ambrose supplies, his smirk sharpening. 

"Don't worry about that. It was my Grandpa's place. I inherited it last year after he finally kicked off. Place is a shambles, honestly. I can hardly keep up. But come on, really, at least take a look, I think you'll fit right in.”

Reluctantly and wondering if he ought to be insulted that he thinks he'll 'fit right in' with a place he describes as a 'wreck,' Noah follows Ambrose through, closing and latching the gate at his back.

The footpath is paved with old bricks, probably red at some point in the past but now worn to a pitted brown. 

Moss and weeds grow between the cracks and Noah snags the toe of his shoe on an uneven one and stumbles, instantly mortified as he catch himself against Ambrose's lower back.

"Steady on, now," he says, turning to look at Noah over his shoulder with an arched brow. 

"We're hardly so well acquainted yet."

Face on fire, Noah takes a step back, mindful of the treacherous bricks and stammers an apology. 

"I'm s-so sorry, I t-tripped."

Holding Noah’s gaze just long enough to make him sweat, Ambrose winks. 

"Well, you do have to watch your step around here. Hold this a minute, would you?"

Handing Noah one of the bags and then rummaging in his pocket for a set of keys, Ambrose unlocks the front door and steps through. 

Noah follows, still holding the grocery bag.

The door opens onto an entryway, and Noah see lots of dark wood paneling, maybe cherry, hardwood floors and antique light fixtures. 

A set of double stairways sweep up in a wide curve to the second floor, and between them an open archway leads to a living room.

To the left and right of the foyer are dark double doors which stand open, revealing a dining room on one side and a library on the other.

Tossing his keys into a bowl on a small antique table by the door, Ambrose unclips the dog from his lead and hangs the leash on a row of coat hooks. 

The creature runs off, vanishing into the depths of the house.

"Kitchen's this way," Ambrose says, leading Noah between the stairs and turning to his right, down a hallway or gallery and through another wide arch.

Noah has to admit that the place has it’s charm. 

A deep farm-style sink, stone countertops, an old fridge with a turquoise finish, a monstrous old stove and a butcher-block prep-table dominate a space any cook would be proud to call home.

"No dishwasher, I'm afraid," Ambrose says as he starts unloading his groceries into the fridge. 

Noah sees a lot of meat, some dairy and vegetables, a few condiments and a six-pack of dark beer. 

"Grandpa was old-fashioned that way, would starve to death before he cooked himself a meal but thought having a machine wash his dishes was a sure way to turn a man to sloth."

“Were you, um, close with him?" Noah asks, just for something to say. 

Noah sets the bag he carries next to Ambrose’s and starts to unload it, handing the handsome Scotsman items as he puts them away.

"With granda? Nah, not really. I grew up near Glasgow, then moved to the States to live with my older brother when I was fifteen. Then he was killed in an accident, and I ended up here for a year before I turned eighteen. Miserable time, really. I hated the place, and I hated that old man—almost as much as he hated me. Never thought he'd will me his 'fortune,' such as it is. Figured he'd rather burn it down."

"Oh."

That was quite a bit more information than Noah had expected to receive and he pauses a moment to think of what to say next but Ambrose speaks again before the young man does, taking the onion he was holding and tossing it into a basket beside the stove.

"Well, let's get on with the tour, shall we? There's quite a lot to see."

Feeling a little lost, Noah follows him from the kitchen, back along the hallway to the stairs.

"Living room, as you can see," Ambrose says, pointing to the wide archway. 

Noah peeks in and sees a broad, open space with high ceilings and a wall of tall windows. 

The furniture appears uniformly antique, early twentieth century, if Noah had to guess. 

Ambrose gestures down the hall in the opposite direction. 

"And down there's a private parlor, a 'smoking room,' as grandpa called it, library on the left and then a workshop and the garage."

Turning, Ambrose walks back towards the foyer and ascends the stairs.

"Second story has five bedrooms, three baths, an exercise room and the home theatre. Top level's the attic, old servant's quarters, another guest room and bath and storage. I'm thinking you might like this room at the end," he says, striding down the hall. 

Opening a door, he waves Noah through.

‘He's right. I do like it.’

It's a lovely light blue, the walls, the furnishings, the accents and has a calm, sea-side energy that feels peaceful and refreshing. 

A four-poster bed covered in a blue quilt dominates the space and an old sea-trunk takes the place of a dresser against one wall. 

There's also a little writing desk and a chair and a cushioned window seat set in a large bay window shaped like a half-hexagon, framed with wispy white curtains. 

A woven sisal rug covers the dark wood floor, the color of which creates a palette reminiscent of a wind-swept dune.

"Well?" Ambrose asks, again so close at Noah’s back that the handsome Scotsman makes him jump.

"It's beautiful," Noah admits.

"Of course, you'll have your own bathroom as well, and the run of the house, pretty much. Can you cook?"

"Uh...well enough," Noah says, blinking.

"And how do you feel about housework?"

"H-housework?"

"You know, laundry, dishes, sweeping, washing up. That sort of thing."

"Oh... fine. I mean, I don't mind doing my share."

"See, what I'm looking for is someone to help me out, really. I can't keep up with this place on my own, and I can't sell, for various reasons. I work long hours at the clinic and then I come home and, well, I just can't do it all."

"Huh?"

“Of course, in return I'll significantly reduce the rent. In fact, if you agree to cook and clean and maybe tidy the yard a bit, I won't charge you at all for the first few months."

Indignant, Noah draws myself up to what height he has. 

"It sounds like what you are looking for, Dr. Thorne, is a house-keeper, not a house-mate. Perhaps you should advertise more clearly, in the proper channels. Good day."

Noah turns, ready to stalk away with his pride intact but Ambrose catches his elbow and gets in front of him, blocking my path.

"I'm sorry, please. I haven't been clear," Ambrose says, his thick brows drawn and a frown on his finely-shaped lips. 

"I don't mean you'd have to do all the work, just some. Make enough for two when you prepare a meal, be willing to do a bit of cleaning now and then. I don't expect you to spend more time at it than you would in a place of your own, especially given the size of this one. What I'm saying is.., I'd want you to treat the place as if it were your own, basically. Not like a hostel, or someplace you bear no responsibility for. Could you do that?"

Noah stares up at him, feeling his own frown weighting the corners of his lips. 

‘When he puts it that way, it sounds reasonable, attractive even.’ 

How else would he ever have a chance to live in a place like this? 

And with so much space and so many rooms and he being as busy as he was, we'd probably never even see each other.

Luxury and solitude? 

That was a sore temptation indeed.

"I could do that," Noah says.

Ambrose’s face breaks into a heart-stopping smile. 

"Wonderful. I'll give you a key and you can move in tomorrow if you like."

"Oh, I..." 

Noah hadn't actually meant that he agreed.

"And if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. No strings," Ambrose adds quickly, seeing Noah’s hesitation. 

"It's not like you'd be trapped here or anything."

"You don't have a pit in your basement, do you?" the young man asks.

"What?"

"Never mind."

Ambrose gives Noah a sidelong look and then grins. 

"Come on, let's get you that key, and then we can go grab some drinks and celebrate. There's a sweet little pub just down the street. What do you say?"

Feeling a bit like some low-budget Faustus, fully aware he’s about to make a dreadful bargain with this handsome Mephistopheles but unable to stop himself, Noah nods and seals his fate.

"Sure," he says. 

"That sounds like fun."

[keeps-ache]

queso que mon petit chou?

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Part 1 - Vikings: Una Flor

Summary: When someone returns from a journey, one would expect for them to return with trinkets and gifts from the journey. Apparently, Ragnar didn’t get the message and instead returned with a foreign flower his family wasn’t expecting.

Pairings: Ragnar x reader (platonic), Ragnarssons x reader (romantic)  

A/N: I would love to know what y’all thought of the first part to this new series. It will definitely be a little different from my previous work, but I’m excited to share it. 

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

All waited anxiously for the arrival of the men that after several months, had returned with whatever treasures they had taken from the raids. Amongst those in the crowd the sons of Ragnar; Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar along with Queen Aslaug waited patiently for the man to dock ship. It did not take long for the men aboard the ship to make their way to their loved ones amidst the cheers of celebration of another successful plunder.

The royal family were pleased to spot Ragnar as he made his way to his family, a proud and accomplished look to his face. He greeted his family with a jovial wave, walking toward them with his cloak loosely wrapped around his shoulders. 

His family greeted him with various forms of Welcome back, and Ragnar looked to Ivar, as the boy stared at his father with a furrowed brow.

“Is there someone underneath your cloak?” Ivar asked in bewilderment.

Ragnar chuckled as he pulled away his arm from himself and the cloak opened to reveal a younger woman nestled beside him, drawn close to him against the bitter cold as her own cloak was wrapped over her to hide most of her from sight.

“Come my sweet (Y/N), introduce yourself” he said.

Hesitantly, she pulled away the hood of her cloak and revealed her youthful features to Ragnar’s family as she nervously looked at them. She fidgeted where she stood, shivering from the cold and tightly holding onto her own cloak to stay warm.

“Tu familia?” she asked timidly, turning to him in confusion.

At his nod, her eyes widened in glee as she smiled widely and turned to them, leaving his side as she reached his son’s. Without another word, she grabbed Bjorn’s hands and kissed him on both cheeks.

“Un placer” she whispered in embarrassment as her cheeks reddened, reaching toward Ubbe and doing the same to all the brothers who merely watched her in fascination. After greeting them, she stood before Queen Aslaug and smiled despite not receiving one in turn. Taking the Queen’s hand in her own as she kneeled and pressed the back of the Queen’s hand to her forehead. 

Afterward with a nervous giggle, she returned to Ragnar’s side as she wrapped her arms around his waist as he pressed a kiss to her cheek in pride.

“This is (Y/N), a girl I paid for in a place known as Iberia and I have brought her to be a bride” he said.

His son’s and wife bristled in anger but before they could protest, he said “So boys which one of you would be willing to make her your wife?”                                   ----------------------------

Seated at the head table, (Y/N) was placed between Sigurd and Ivar as she stared wide eyed at the abundance of food lain before her very eyes. Seeing her apprehension, Sigurd placed a few things on her plate as she stared at him with her eyes glittering in excitement. Queen Aslaug watched the interactions of her son and the young girl that was apparently “bought” and turned to her husband.

“How is it that you came to find this girl?” she asked taking sips of her mead.

“We were caught in a massive storm that veered us greatly off course, it lasted for several days and it seemed that we would never see it calming at last the rains calmed and the wind had blown us to a coastal village” he said. “The locals were kind and many offered their homes as we intended on fixing many of the damages our boats had received. Floki and I were brought to the home of the richest man but also the most miserly.”

“Why would you say that?” Bjorn asked, having been listening in to his father.

“The man had eight children and whenever he set any of them out to trade or buy, he had each of them line up and have them mention the price and many other things to him before making sure they hadn’t spent more than what he thought necessary. The poor girl was treated worse than her brothers, the majority of my stay I had the assumption she was his slave with all that he expected of her.”

“Is that how you bought the girl?” asked Hvitserk. “Thinking she was the slave?”

“Oh no, I had stumbled into her room as she was changing and her brothers were quick to go to their old man. From what little I understood of their language, they claimed I had shamed them and needed to pay for her and take her with me. In his fit of rage, the man grabbed her long hair and cut it off at the ears as punishment apparently.”

All looked to the girl that was happily munching away at her food with stuffed cheeks, stopping mid-chew when she felt their stares. Sheepishly she swallowed and timidly smiled when she looked to them. As previously mentioned by Ragnar, (Y/N) had her (h/c) hair messily cut and near her jaw.

“Of course, in the time that she has been with us, her hair has grown some but it was much shorter. But I argued for some time with the man that I hadn’t shamed them, but eventually I agreed to take the girl and during the trip came to care for her as a daughter. It is on the voyage with some difficulty she told me about herself, and she revealed that her mother was a princess to a tribe of warriors that was kidnapped. I figured that she could be a wife for one you boys and provide an alliance of this group if one of you can somehow catch her eye and find the location of these warriors.” 

The boys scoffed, they assumed it would be a simple task as (Y/N) seemed to be naïve to the advances of men and could be swayed to like them, but their interest was certainly peaked that she was a grandchild to a group of warriors. 

With a smirk, Ragnar took a sip from his chalice.

“One more thing, (Y/N) is still learning our language. She understands some phrases and can say some things, but she is at a lost for the most part” he chuckled. “I will give you all an introduction and leave it to all of you.” 

A sharp whistle and (Y/N) quickly got out of her seat to stand beside Ragnar. He cleared his throat and spoke thickly, “Te presento a mi familia. As visto a mi esposa Aslaug.” (I present to you my family, you have seen my wife Aslaug)

“Ella es muy bella” (Y/N) said sweetly. (She is very beautiful)

Ragnar then pointed to Bjorn, “El es mi hijo mayor Bjorn. El es un gran guerrero.” (This is my eldest son Bjorn, he is a great warrior)

She stuck closer to Ragnar,“No me sorprende con su estatura.” (It doesn’t surprise me with his stature)

“Este es mi hijo Ubbe, un hombre sabio” (This is my son Ubbe, a wise man)

“El parece mucho como usted Ragnar” (He looks a lot like you Ragnar)

“A lado de el esta mi otro hijo, Hvitserk. A el le encanta mucho la comida.” (Beside him is my other son, Hvitserk. He loves food a lot)

“Oh! Seguramente el le gustaría platillos de mi pueblo.” (Oh! Surely he will like the dishes of my village)

“Del lado tuyo es mi hijo Sigurd, el sabe como tocar el oud” (Beside you is my son Sigurd, he knows how to play the oud.)

“Me encantaría escuchar cuando el toca” (I would love to hear when he plays)

“Y finalmente este es mi hijo Ivar un muchacho listo.” (And finally is my son Ivar, a clever boy)

“Ivar?”she gasped in excitement and realization. “El es como mi hermano Ivan.” (He is like my brother Ivan)

“My name is Ivar, not Ivan” the boy scoffed as he took a drink from his cup.

She scrunched her face in annoyance, clearly trying to find the right words to explain what she was trying to say and called out to Floki. The man in question looked to the girl as she pointed to Ivar in frustration.

Once again she said, “Ivan.”

The man giggled and sat beside Ivar.

“She knows your name Ivar” Floki laughed, “But she has a younger brother whose name is Ivan.”

“Well what does that boy have to do with her saying his name when she sees me?” Ivar asked.

“Because Ivan happens to be exactly like you Ivar, a little boy with broken legs. Only difference between you two is that Ivan has a sunny disposition” Floki giggled.  

“Well would you look at that Ivar, she only sees you as nothing but another little boy that should be pitied” Sigurd sneered. “Looks like we can count you out.”

Ivar scowled at his brother but said nothing. 

“No entiendo, que están diciendo Floki?” (I don’t understand, what are they saying Floki?)

“No te preocupes, solo son tonterías de muchachos” Floki said. (Don’t worry it is merely boyish foolishness)

She turned to Sigurd and Hvitserk, gesturing with her hands “You play and you dance, yes?”

“Are you asking if I can play?” Sigurd asked. 

Instantly the girls face lit up as she nodded excitedly, once again gesturing him playing on the oud. Taken by her sweet nature, Sigurd stood to play his oud as she had requested and instantly (Y/N) stood up from her seat taking Hvitserk by the hand to dance. In comparison to her light and quick steps, Hvitserk stumbled to keep up with her as she danced in a way that none of the Ragnarssons had seen before. She was not shy to fix Hvitserk’s movements and laughing when he would stumble, not out of mockery but in excitement that he was learning.

“I am going to cut in and see if I can do better, I’m sure that the dance isn’t as hard as Hvitserk makes it out to be” Ubbe said as he took his younger brother’s place.  

Both Bjorn and Ivar looked on at their brothers make fools of themselves as they struggled to figure out the quick steps of the girls dance, attempting with the little she knew of their language and gestures as to how they would communicate with each other.

“You don’t truly think one of us will marry the girl, do you father?” Bjorn asked seriously.

“I fully expect it Bjorn, it doesn’t matter who wins her heart but I intend for that girl to marry into our family even if it means forcing one of you” Ragnar said taking a long drink from his cup. “None of you might realize it yet, but that girl is more special than any of you know.”

With that, Ragnar said no more and Ivar was staring intently at the girl wondering what could be so special about this foreign flower that his father would want one of them to marry her.  

Tag List (Open) 

@heavenly1927, @princesscornbread, @fairyofvoid

@ivarthebloodyking, @shit-i-say-shit-i-think

@youbloodymadgenius, @youbleed-justtoknow-yourealive, 

@leahh19​, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ 

(If I forgot to tag you or you would like to be tagged, please let me know)

[woodrokiro]

Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse. 

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place. 

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte. 

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work. 

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations. 

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation. 

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know. 

She knows. 

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break. 

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light. 

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs. 

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

--

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters. 

“A table for one, miss?” 

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back. 

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.” 

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu. 

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl. 

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to. 

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche. 

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?” 

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?” 

“Any recommendations?” 

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response. 

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.” 

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own. 

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned. 

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs. 

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand. 

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.” 

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits. 

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?” 

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?” 

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner. 

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.” 

Oh. 

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order. 

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children’s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to. 

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away. 

Bartenders are absolutely off limits. 

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

--

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her. 

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

[jikookuntold]

Jungkook and His Cover Songs: Is “10000 Hours” about Jimin?

Disclaimer: The following post includes theories, lyric and numeric analysis, plus my personal opinions, so please don’t take anything seriously. I’m too lazy to upload photos and videos for the moments I mentioned here, but I’m sure you know about them all. Any Jikooker must know. And I’m not Korean or a Korean culture expert, I just know as much as any Stan Twitter ARMY knows about their culture.

Anyone?

Maybe one of the biggest Jikook moments of 2021 so far, is where Jimin jumped into Jungkook’s hug, in Lee Hyun’s Vlog. But the other moment on that Vlog was even more significant; Jungkook was singing “Anyone” from Justin Bieber’s new album, and Jimin was harmonizing with him while holding on his shirt. I don’t want to mention their interview moment singing “Peaches” because I know this song is super popular in South Korea right now and somehow it doesn’t count as a moment. But it’s safe to say that Jikook has something special with his songs, and JK in particular always was invested in him. 

JK & JB

The reason behind Jungkook’s devotion to Justin Bieber was always a big question for me, and I got my answer not long time ago. Jungkook’s playlist for Melon Radio Station included a song from JB’s new album named “Lonely”. This is one of the most personal songs any artist can ever make, and JK recommended it to his audience. Here are the lyrics of “Lonely” by Justin Bieber:

Everybody knows my name now

But somethin' 'bout it still feels strange

Like lookin' in a mirror, tryna steady yourself

And seein' somebody else

And everything is not the same now

It feels like all our lives have changed

Maybe when I'm older, it'll all calm down

But it's killin' me now

What if you had it all, but nobody to call?

Maybe then you'd know me

'Cause I've had everything

But no one's listening

And that's just lonely

I'm so lonely, lonely

Everybody knows my past now

Like my house was always made of glass

And maybe that's the price you pay

For the money and fame at an early age

And everybody saw me sick

And it felt like no one gave

They criticized the things I did as an idiot kid

What if you had it all, but nobody to call?

Maybe then you'd know me

'Cause I've had everything

But no one's listening

And that's just lonely

These lyrics made me think of one specific thing, the thing that JK and JB have in common: They started their careers at a very young age, and their lives have been under the scrutiny of so many people. These people judged and criticized them but never tried to understand them. The lyrics are straightforward and leave no place for interpretation. By recommending this song, JK showed that he had (and probably still has) the same experiences in his life, and I think the reason he recommends or covers JB’s songs more than any other artist is that he has many things in common with him, and feels connected to his songs. 

This can lead us to another theory: By covering a Justin Bieber song, Jungkook shares something about himself with us, something that he can’t express directly.

Jungkook is interested in JB’s songs, but he is not the only one. As I said earlier in this post, Jimin shares the same taste with Jungkook, and my receipt is not just that “Anyone” or “Peaches” harmonizing moments, but also Jimin’s Spotify playlists. Since 2017 (or earlier, I’m not sure about this part) he has added some JB songs to his official playlist, and even his current playlist (July 2021) has two JB songs. And also let’s not forget the fact that Jikook as a subunit started in 2014 with a JB cover. Yes, I’m talking about “Mistletoe” and as you may know, Jimin translated the lyrics of this song to Korean. 

10000 Hours

Nearly 700 words and I haven’t started yet! The subject of this post was supposed to be the connections between “10000 hours” cover and Jikook but this prelude was necessary to clarify all the aspects of the topic and we find out how JB is special for JK and Jimin and how they (especially Jungkook) feel connected to him. Anyways, back to 10000 hours:

Dan + Shay and Justin Bieber released this Grammy winner song in October 2019. Here are the lyrics: 

Do you love the rain, does it make you dance

When you're drunk with your friends at a party

What's your favorite song, does it make you smile

Do you think of me?

When you close your eyes, tell me, what are you dreamin'?

Everything, I wanna know it all

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

Do you miss the road that you grew up on?

Did you get your middle name from your grandma?

When you think about your forever now, do you think of me?

When you close your eyes, tell me, what are you dreamin'?

Everything, I wanna know it all

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

Ooh, want the good and the bad and everything in between

Ooh, gotta cure my curiosity

Ooh, yeah

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that

Sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

And I'm gonna love you

As you can see, the lyrics are 100% romantic, and the singers including JB, have dedicated this song to their lovers. Also, their girlfriends/wives have a cameo in the MV, which leaves no place for speculation for the context of the song: Even though the uncertainties always exist and no one knows about the future, our love is strong and will stay strong regardless of time. 

The Cover and the Theories

Nearly one year later, on July 28th, 2020, Jungkook surprised ARMYs with a short video he tweeted at 11:56 AM. That video was a 49 seconds cover of 10000 hours. A few minutes later, he deleted the tweet (apparently with the advertisement excuses, because it was tweeted from an iPhone and they have a contract with Samsung). Later that night, Jungkook released the full version on Sound Cloud and tweeted the link at 11:47 PM. 

Jikookers discovered numerous theories that day about the times of both tweets; if you add the digits of the time, the result is “13” for both tweets 1+1+4+7=13, 1+1+5+6=13, and as you already know “13” is Jikook’s magic number. Also, the first video he tweeted was 49 seconds and 4+9=13. But in my opinion, this theory is not strong. I know that numerology is very popular in Korean culture but still, all of this can be coincidences, but the other things I’m going to bring up are most likely not. 

28th July 2020 was the 7th anniversary of the first Jikook selca posted after debut. This also might be a coincidence and to be honest, it cannot be a strong link to make a connection with Jikook, but worths sharing. 

The next thing that many Jikookers also pointed out, was related to the title of the song. The lyrics say “10000 hours and 10000 more” and 20000 hours after the 28th of July is 8th November 2022. As you may know. Jikookers believe November 8th is a significant date for Jikook. I believe this can be a coincidence either, and it’s very unlikely of Jungkook to do such calculations (Koreans are interested in numbers when it comes to days and dates, but counting hours is not usual in any culture. Other than that, I’m still doubtful about the origins of the November 8th theory because we have nothing other than two tweets and G.C.F Tokyo release date and their hotel room in Tokyo which still can be coincidental). But I don’t deny these theories because even as a coincidence, it’s still very interesting. 

And the next theory is connected to the “Red Moon”. On 27th July 2018, a total lunar eclipse happened all over the world, which became known as the red moon. At that time, BTS were in Malta, and on the same night, Jikook were watching the red moon on a boat. They shared plenty of photos and videos of that moment and I’m sure as a Jikooker you have seen them all and you know that night had a very romantic mood (BigHit words, not mine) for Jikook. So, a second anniversary for that night and the day after that night can be a significant date to release a very romantic cover. Is this a coincidence too? I think we had many of them already.

And last but not least is something connected to Korean culture. You probably know that 1000 days anniversaries are very important for Koreans and they celebrate them along with real anniversaries of the important dates in their lives. And guess what? 27th July 2020 is 1000 days after 31 October 2017. This day is the day Jikook’s travel to Tokyo ended and they posted their couply mirror selca on Twitter with flower bouquet emoji. Despite the one-day difference (the same case for the red moon anniversary), this is not a minor event or small coincidence. I believe Jungkook posted “10000 hour” cover for this reason and based on this, the other theories I mentioned earlier can be true either. 

The lyrics hit different if you read them again, after knowing this fact. Right? I don’t want to make this post much longer but before wrapping up, I want to talk about the lyrics of “Anyone” by JB (the song Jikook were harmonizing in Lee Hyun’s Vlog):

Dance with me under the diamonds

See me like breath in the cold

Sleep with me here in the silence

Come kiss me, silver and gold

You say that I won't lose you

But you can't predict the future

So, just hold on like you will never let go

Yeah, if you ever move on without me

I need to make sure you know that

You are the only one I'll ever love

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (ever done)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone (anyone)

Not anyone

Forever's not enough time to (oh)

Love you the way that I want (love you the way that I want)

'Cause every morning I find you (oh)

I fear the day that I don't

You say that I won't lose you

But you can't predict the future

'Cause certain things are out of our control

Yeah, if you ever move on without me

I need to make sure you know that

You are the only one I'll ever love

Only one (I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (I've ever done)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

It's not anyone, not anyone

Oh, oh, oh, oh

If it's not you, it's not anyone

Oh, oh, oh, yeah, whoa

Yeah, you are the only one I'll ever love

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya) gotta tell ya

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (ever done, oh, yeah)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

If you read the lyrics, you will notice that the context is very similar to “10000 hours”. It talks about the uncertainties of a beautiful love or in other words: No matter what the future brings to us, this love will last forever. 

This context of uncertainty and unknown future for a romance is a common concept in many of the songs Jungkook has covered and it’s not limited to the Justin Bieber covers he has done and maybe this concept can be the topic for my next analysis. 

[justthehiddleswrites]

My Life is a Lie | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader (more of a gen fic)

Summary:  Tom takes his ten year-old son, James out to Benedict’s for a boy’s night out. James discovers the truth of how his parents met.

Warnings: Fluff, Humor, boys night, Underage Drinking, just a sip of beer

-

“James!” you yelled up the stairs as Tom gathered his keys and phone. “Your father is ready to go.”

“Coming, Mum!” a small voice echoed down to the hallway.

“Are you sure you are okay here alone?”

Tom’s deep baritone rumbled against your back as his arms wrapped around your waist. He nuzzled against your neck, his three-day-old whiskers tickling the skin. You giggled and twisted in his grip.

“That tickles.” Tom nuzzled a bit more until you leaned away. “I’m fine. You and the boys have fun tonight. I will just be here, alone. I get to watch whatever I want on TV, rather than Heat for the hundredth time.”

“You said you liked it.”

“One time. I liked to watch it one time. Not twenty times.”

“So what are you going to watch instead?” Tom spied up the stairs to see no sign of James. He spun you to face him.

“Well, I haven’t watched Crimson Peak or The Night Manager in years.” You swirled your finger across his chest.

“If you want to see my ass, you can do it in person.” Tom teased as he leaned down to kiss you.

“But it looks so much bigger on screen.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, your fingers splayed across his backside. The two of you continued to kiss, Tom’s hands tangling in your hair as he held you close.

“Aw, gah!” a disgusted voice broke your passion. “Are you guys ever not kissing?”

You turned to see James standing on the bottom step. His face twisted into the ultimate “what the fuck” face that only a ten-year-old can accomplish. You tucked your head against Tom, shoulders shaking from laughter.

“No, James.” Tom responded. “We are constantly kissing.” He pecked your lips over and over. “Because we realize how much you love it.”

Tom pulled you tight against his chest and kissed you deep and passionate, making it extra loud and sloppy. James gagged in the background.

“Try not to torture the boy too much tonight.” you giggled, smoothing down Tom’s sweater.

“Of course not. That is what Benedict and Luke are for.”

“Poor boy.” You turned to James, who was now standing by the door. “James… Hugs!”

You stretched open your arms and waved him towards you. He rolled his eyes before slumping his way into your arms. You make a big show of pulling him tight to you. “Keep an eye on your father.” you whispered in his ear before sending them on their way.

-

Tom chuckled as James placed his token into the jail square.

“You do the crime, you do the time.” he taunted and picked up the dice.

“Seriously, Dad? You say that every time!” he groaned.

“Yeah, Tom.” Benedict piped in. “Get some new bits.”

“I agree.” Luke joined.

Tom leaned back in his chair, covering his heart. “You’re supposed to be my friends. And my own son! Betrayed!!!” Tom slumped in the chair.

“Drama queen.” James muttered as he passed his bail money to Ben, who was acting as banker.

“Do you expect anything less, Ben?” Benedict quipped back.

“Why do you always call me Ben?” James asked, scrunching up his nose. “My name is James.”

Benedict choked on his beer as he slammed the bottle onto the table. Luke’s eyebrows raised as his eyes darted the two other men.

“Tom! You haven’t told him?!” Ben bellowed.

Luke calmly placed his beer on the table and pushed his chair about six feet away. “Not touching this with a ten-foot pole. Good luck, mate.” he gazed with pity at Tom.

“What’s he talking about dad?” James questioned.

Tom pressed his lips to his beer, taking big swigs. He didn’t want to answer the question. Benedict stared at him for a fair amount before pressing the issue.

“Yeah, Tom, what am I talking about? Have you never told the boy his name?” Benedict’s lips pulled to a thin line.

“Seriously, Tom? How has this never come up before?” Luke narrowed towards Tom. “He’s ten years old. What were you waiting for? His wedding?”

“Not helping, Luke.” Tom gritted out as he took another long draw from his bottle, emptying the bottle.

“My name’s James Patrick Hiddleston.” his tone irritated. He hated when adults talked about him like he wasn’t in the room.

“Not entirely.” Ben quipped. He slid a fresh bottle towards Tom.

“What on earth are you talking about?” James’s brows furrowed, a perfect mixture of his father and mother.

“Your full name is James Benedict Patrick Hiddleston.” Tom stated.

James’s mouth dropped open and his head bounced between glaring between his father and the man he considered an uncle, his godfather. His eyes caught Luke.

“Don’t look at me. I thought you knew. Blame your father. Or better yet…” Luke smirked as he glanced at Tom. “… ask your mother about it.”

James reached for his pocket to pull out his phone when Tom leaped into action. He ripped the phone from his son’s hand and placed it back on the table.

“That won’t be necessary. We don’t want to disturb her evening. Here,” Tom pushed his beer towards James. “Take a sip.”

James took a sniff before sipping. His face screwed up in disgust and he pushed the beer back to Tom. “That is disgusting. So what’s the story? Why am I named after Ben?” He jerked his thumb to the other end of the table.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” Tom asked.

“Because…” Benedict interjected. “… there is always a story when it comes to you.”

“Not to mention you are a huge drama queen.” Luke scooted closer to the table.

Tom narrowed his eyes at the shorter man. “Why haven’t I fired you yet?”

“Because I know where all the bodies are buried.”

“So tell the story.” James urged.

“There’s not much to tell. I asked for a favor and your name was the price. I gladly paid it.” Tom scoffed.

Benedict let loose a hearty laugh from the other end of the table. “That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard in my life! You lie to your son?” He leaned in close to James. “Remember last year, when your dad had to have that cap replaced?”

“Yeah.” James rolled his eyes. “He got so loopy. Mum couldn’t stop giggling as he wandered around the house screaming that he was ‘burdened with glorious purpose’.”

Tom’s head snapped as Luke joined in on the giggling. Luke stifled his laugh.

“Outstanding job, Tom.” Benedict started again. “you’ve moved on from Shakespeare.”

“Like when he met Mum.”

Tom paled.

“Exactly, my dear godson. Exactly.” Benedict wrapped his arm around James as he never took his eyes off Tom whose face was as white as the shirt he wore. “Did he tell you I was there?”

James’s eyes widened. “No. Dad never told me the entire story. He always said I wasn’t old enough.”

“Must have slipped my mind.” Tom groused. “There’s no need to bore the boy with mushy romantic stories.” He tried in desperation to end this conversation. “Let’s get back to the game.” He reached for the dice, but James snatched them up first.

“I recognize that look. Mum says that is your ‘oh shit’ look. I need to hear this now.”

“Traitor.”

“Good boy. You’ve had your first sip of beer, you are old enough to know the truth.” Benedict complimented. “So your dad was a ghastly car accident on set ages ago. Before he turned into an old man. And me, being concerned about my investment as executive producer…” Ben winked at Tom who rolled his eyes before slumping into the chair. “… I followed him to the hospital.”

“You are on the list. Luke put him on the list.” Tom snapped his fingers towards the man.

“Of course, sir.” He gave a salute. “You’re the boss. Benedict is on the list.”

“There’s no list.”

Tom leaned forward. “Oh there’s a list. And you now at the top of it!”

Luke shook his head no behind Tom’s back.

“Anyway… So your Mum was working that night in the ER and your father was smitten from the moment he saw her.” Tom quirked an eyebrow. “Or it could have been the drugs talking. Either way, your father knew he would marry your Mum.”

James groaned. “Is that why they are always kissing?”

All three men laughed.

“I suspect that is part of the reason.” Ben winked at Tom. “So back to the story. Your dad asked me for a favor before he went into surgery.”

“What was the favor?”

“He wanted me to get your Mum’s number for him.” Ben leaned back.

“And is that where my name came in?”

Benedict slapped James’s knee. “Right on, boy-o. Tom, you have a smart boy here. He must take after his mother or his godfather.” Benedict smiled.

Tom gave up on even arguing at this point. They outnumbered him. James spun to face him.

“How did Mum take all this?”

Tom cleared his throat. “Well, I didn’t tell her for a while.”

“How long is a while, Tom?” Luke quipped.

“She was six months pregnant with James.” Tom mumbled.

“And you lived to tell the tale?! She must really love you.”

“It was touch and go for a while. She yelled something about not naming our child after breakfast food.”

“So we compromised, didn’t we, Tom?” Benedict added.

“We did. Benedict would be your middle name and in exchange, that man…” Tom flung his hands in Ben’s direction. “… gets to taunt me about it in perpetuity. You robbed me.”

“I don’t know. I thought it was a fair trade.”

“And where were you during all of this?” Tom turned his ire towards Luke.

“Me?” Luke glanced around in mock confusion. “I was there. Negotiating on the behalf of Benedict.” Tom shot daggers. “Can you blame me, mate? That story is brilliant.”

“Fair point.”

James sat silently while Luke, Tom, and Ben stared at him. He drank his soda before placing the bottle on the table. “My life is a lie.” he sniffled.

His eyes grew wet, and Tom’s heart twinged with guilt. He reached towards him, but James jerked away.

“What else have you lied about? Am I adopted?! Are you even my real dad?” Tears threatened to spill onto James’s flushed cheeks.

“James, no! Your mother and I were going to tell you. I never dreamed you would get this upset. If I thought even for a moment you would get mad, I would have told you sooner. Believe me.” He reached again, but James stood up, his fists balled up.

“I just can’t believe…” James turned his head and his shoulders shook. “… you actually fell for that!” He spun with an enormous grin on his face.

Tom leaped to his feet, knocking over the chair. “Why, you little…”

“You’re not only the one who can cry on command!” James yelped as Tom lunged for him but the young boy was too quick.

“You taught him too well, Tom!” Benedict yelled as the two Hiddleston boys streaked off around the house, Tom gaining on his son.

[theadventurousdork]

All the Time in the World...

What would Chloe and Rachel’s first date look like?

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes! Just keep walking.”

 “You do know that it’s dark outside. I wouldn’t be able to see much anyway.”

“Yes, Sherlock. I know that but I just want it to be a surprise.” 

“My life is currently in your hands, Price. If you accidentally lead us to the edge of a cliff, it’ll be your fault. Just saying.”

“Do you always talk this much when you can’t see?”

“Are your hands always this sweaty when you’re nervous?”

“Bite me.” 

Chloe covers Rachel’s eyes with her hands as she nudges her from behind to continue walking along the dirt path. The air is still and the only sound that occupies the space of the night are the distant chirps of crickets and the occasional rustling of a bush. Despite the serenity of the forest around them, Chloe’s heart is pounding out of her chest. 

“Okay. You can do this.” she thinks to herself, “Just don’t, like… fall down, or lead Rachel off the edge of a cliff. Easy enough.” 

Rachel swings her arms behind her and pulls Chloe closer to her as they walk, almost causing Chloe to drop her hands in surprise at the gesture. “You know,” Rachel starts, “if this is a deliberate plan to brutally murder me, you could’ve just asked.” 

“Oh, darn.” Chloe sarcastically replies, “My evil master plan has been foiled!” 

Rachel lets out a small laugh, “Hath my Ariel finally chosen to betray me?”

“Never, my mistress,” says Chloe as she continues to lead Rachel down the path, “I will always be in service to thy schemes.” 

The two continue to walk in a comfortable silence with Chloe occasionally catching Rachel after tripping on rogue rocks in the road. Their laughs fill the night as the stars look over them from above. They make it to the edge of the forest as Chloe gently takes her hands off Rachel’s eyes. 

“How much farther?” Rachel asks with her eyes still closed.

“We’re here,” Chloe walks forward and stops to turn back to the other, “You can open your eyes now.” 

Rachel opens her eyes and looks out to the familiar silhouettes of rusted cars and abandoned belongings, “You took me to… the junkyard?” There’s a slight tinge of disappointment in her voice. 

Chloe extends her hand, “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

Rachel looks at the beanie wearing punk, who’s trying her best not to be visibly nervous. Rachel can’t help but crumble under Chloe’s blue eyed gaze. Any feeling of disappointment quickly melts away as Rachel takes Chloe’s guiding hand. The moonlight faintly illuminates the path to the entrance of American Rust. Hands intertwined with one another, the two turn the corner into the junkyard. There’s a faint light coming from behind a pile of stacked cars. Rachel slows her pace, causing Chloe to do the same. 

“Shit, is someone here?” Rachel’s voice low, “There’s light coming from over there.”

“Do you trust me?” Chloe says as she tightens her grip on Rachel’s hand. 

“Always.” replies Rachel.

Chloe smiles and she pulls Rachel to continue walking. They walk to the otherside of the car pile to reveal a pathway illuminated by tealight candles. Rachel drops Chloe’s hand in surprise. 

“Wh- what is this?” Rachel stares in wonder at the winding candle lit pathway that spans the length of the junkyard. 

Chloe grabs the back of her own neck, something she does to alleviate her nerves, “I, uh… I wanted our first date to be special.” 

“You did all of this?” Rachel looks at Chloe in surprise.

“Yeah, I dug around the Two Whales storage room. They keep a fuck ton of these candles for their Valentine’s day themed nights in February.” 

“This is… amazing, Chloe.” Rachel jumps into Chloe’s arms. The two hold each other, reveling in each other’s comfort. 

“This isn’t all of it.” Chloe finally says. They let go of their embrace as Rachel looks at her in confusion, “Come on.” 

The two walk side by side down the candle lit path, arm in arm. Chloe’s nerves continue to build, causing her to lose any sense of casual conversations that she had rehearsed in her head prior to tonight. They continue down the twisting path around the junkyard, Rachel marveling at the star filled night sky above them. 

“This is incredible,” she says, snapping Chloe out of her nervous spiral, “Being with you feels incredible. Like we can do anything when we’re together.” 

“Absolutely,” Chloe replies. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the night sky with Rachel as she tries to get a grip of her racing heart. 

“You ever think about how vast the universe is?” Rachel asks as they both slow down their pace, “Like how much is out there? All that space has to be filled with more than just stars and planets.” 

“I’m sure there’s an alien Chloe Price and Rachel Amber out there somewhere, tentacle arms intertwined, looking up at their stars and wondering the same thing.” Chloe says with a smile curled at the edge of her lip. 

“Parallel alien universes, huh?” says Rachel, amused, “I wonder if alien Chloe is as romantic as my Chloe.” 

“Shut up.” Chloe laughs pushing Rachel’s shoulder. 

The two reach the other end of the junkyard. Rachel is surprised to see that the candlelit path doesn’t end there, but instead continues up the hill beyond the junkyard. 

“Where does this lead to?” she says. 

“Why don’t we find out?” Chloe says as she continues walking.

The two follow the candles up the hill to the train tracks where the old train lays still. The path leads them to a train car that has it’s door wide open. Chloe lets go of Rachel’s hand and hops into the open car. She turns around and sees Rachel standing with her mouth open in awe. 

“Chloe…” she manages to say after a moment. 

“Surprise.” Chloe responds. 

Chloe helps Rachel onto the train car and Rachel spins around slowly admiring it’s transformation. More candles are strewn around the car revealing the walls to be covered in graffiti hearts and stars, all done by a familiar hand. Construction paper hearts hang from the ceiling by old yarn and fake rose petals cover the creaky floor below them. 

“This…” Rachel struggles to find the right words as she continues to marvel at Chloe’s hardwork, “This is fucking incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Chloe says as she pulls two wooden crates to the middle of the train car, “Come sit with me.” 

Rachel blinks herself out of her shocked state and sits down on the wooden crate next to Chloe. Chloe pulls out a paper bag from behind a stack of boxes, “I’ll be honest with you, I tried to be hella romantic and cook you a meal… but I burned the shit out of it and made the fire alarm in my house go off.”

Rachel shakes her head and laughs at the thought of Chloe panicking and blowing the smoke around the house with a dishrag. 

“Needless to say, steptool wasn’t amused,” Chloe continued, “So I got us burgers and fries from Two Whales instead. I hope that’s alright.” 

“It’s perfect.”

Chloe finishes ripping open the bag and setting up the food in front of them. She looks up to see Rachel looking at her with a gaze that can make any person wither under her beauty. 

“What?” Chloe says, feeling a familiar nervous lump in her throat. 

“Nothing. Just admiring you and everything that you are for a moment.” 

Chloe looks away in hopes to hide her cheeks going red.

“Too mushy?” asks Rachel.

“Perfect mushy.” 

And so the two sat in the train car, side by side, talking and laughing into the darkness of the night. At this moment in time, the world around them stood still and they felt like they had all the time in the world.

[notveryglittery]

absolutely smitten

summary: sometimes your coworkers are ridiculously in love but too dumb to make a move so obviously you've got to give them a push in the right direction. wc: 4,700 / ship: roman/patton (royality) content: human au, actor au. patton-centric. some crying, some kissing. mutual, oblivious pining. confessions of ~love~! background talyn, joan, remy, and thomas.  background brotherly moxiety, romantic analogical, and frenemies(?) moceit. janus is kind of an asshole (but that’s patton’s opinion dot vine).  author’s note: so, sometime in october 2019, i saw this post by @sirasanders  for the first time ever which was, frankly, a Crime. because it had been posted in february 2019 and the fact that i had gone that long without seeing/being tagged in a royality post? Illegal. anyway, i was struck with inspiration and began writing and sure it might have taken nine months but... here it is! i'm really proud of it! i hope you enjoy! 

many thanks to @rosesisupposes​ for beta reading!! <3 read on ao3!

— — —

Patton was not a morning person. Sure, he liked the idea of sunrises and consistent schedules and having time to make himself a big breakfast. All of that, however, required waking up. So to put it more accurately, Patton was not a waking up person.

Usually, all it took was a cup of coffee.

Thankfully, that part was never something Patton really had to worry about. The sweet, sweet bean elixir was delivered to him personally each morning sometime after arriving on set. Something he did worry about, though? Constantly? Nearly every hour of every day? Just what exactly he and the bringer-of-drinks were.

Like… yeah! He and Roman were… friends? They were coworkers for sure, without a doubt, and Patton liked that a lot! Working with Roman never failed to brighten even his darkest days. Patton could arrive on set in the lowest of moods and sometimes all it took was one warm smile from Roman to melt the icy feeling in his veins. Sometimes, it was the way Roman would slide up next to him at the catering table, moaning about how hungry he was, asking for Patton’s opinion on what he should treat himself to. Sometimes, Roman would take Patton’s hand and lead him to The Sanders Couch and Roman would sit and then he’d pull Patton down onto his lap and they’d just stay there for a bit, Roman combing his hand through Patton’s hair and singing quietly… If Patton was being honest, that was the easiest and quickest way Roman helped him to feel better.

Just friends, though! Right?

Roman remembering Patton’s usual go-to orders from Starbucks didn’t mean anything. He was just being courteous. Maybe it wasn’t even that; maybe it was just Roman wanting to make sure Patton would be at his peak during their scenes. Actors had such bad reputations after all and the last thing Patton wanted was to be a nightmare to deal with on set. He was grateful, really, of all Roman did to help him!

He just wished he wasn’t so confused.

“Patton! Good morning!”

Okay, time to put all those confusing feelings away.

Talyn’s bright grin and brighter hair never failed to impress Patton. Maybe one day he’d learn their secret to feeling this energetic so early in the morning but until then, he’d just have to keep wishing for the day coffee chains lowered their prices.

“Morning, Tal,” Patton responded, unable to help himself as he reached out and ruffled Talyn’s colorful locks.

They grumbled and swatted his hand away. “I’d be offended that you don’t seem to realize how much time this takes but I don’t think you even know what a hairbrush is.”

Patton pouted and reached up to tug on one of his curls. “I’m hurt.”

Talyn huffed, a sort-of laugh that reminded him of Virgil, and rolled their eyes. “I’ll be extra gentle with your makeup to make up for it, then.”

Before Patton could express appreciation for the play on words, Talyn was swept up and away in a blur of blue plaid and orange. He was pretty sure it’d been Joan, given how they were scarcely seen without their tell-tale flashy beanie.

While interacting with Talyn had helped Patton wake up a little bit, he was already feeling the heaviness of being up early weighing him down again. The reminder of the scene they were supposed to be filming today probably wasn’t doing him any good, either. Not only was it going to be a lot of crying, which was already exhausting on its own, he and Roman were supposed to kiss. Patton was supposed to kiss the possibly-maybe-wouldn’t-it-be-nice love of his life.

His cheeks went hot at the very idea and Patton all but slammed his face into his hands and screamed into his palms.

“Easy, buttercup, wouldn’t want you bruising, hm?”

Patton lowered his hands and glared at Janus over his fingertips.

“Oops,” Janus smirked and stepped back. “Didn’t realize you haven’t had your coffee yet.”

Patton frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “Is it that obvious?”

Somehow, in the time it took him to blink, Janus had moved, loping around Patton with a contemplative hum. One of these days, he’d learn how Janus managed to get around so fast.

“Look,” he said, draping an arm over Patton’s shoulders and pointing, “right there.”

One of these days, Patton would stop falling for Janus’s pranks.

Today was not that day and so when Patton directed his gaze towards where Janus was gesturing, he was provided the very startling sight of Roman coming in from outside. He was practically glowing in the sunlight, his hair was tousled from the wind as if he’d rolled out of bed but left it intentionally disheveled, and they’d just made eye contact and so Patton saw clear as crystal the way Roman’s smile curled up so easily and prettily.

Oh no, he was so pretty.

Patton ducked out of Janus’s hold and bolted away, towards his dressing room.

That… could have gone worse? Yeah, he could’ve tripped while running away and face planted and made work super difficult for Talyn and ruined the whole shoot today and everyone would be mad at him for wasting their time—

“Patton?”

By absolute sheer willpower, Patton didn’t scream.

“I’ve got your caramel macchiato.”

Patton was going to melt.

“Extra extra espresso.”

Scratch that, Patton was already melting.

“Thomas said it looked like you’d need it.”

Wait, what?

Patton opened the door to handsome Roman, considerate Roman, lovely Roman, and spoke before his brain could get any more mushy at the sight of handsome considerate lovely Roman. “Thomas hasn’t even seen me today?”

Roman held the reusable tumbler out for Patton to take. “Extra caramel, too.”

Patton took the offered drink and if it weren’t for the fact that this happened nearly every morning, he’d surely have dropped it the moment his and Roman’s fingertips brushed. Thankfully, he’d gotten used to it by now. Mostly, his heart reminded him when butterflies took flight in his stomach. Right, yeah, mostly. Anyway.

“I’ll see you in a bit, then,” Roman said and Patton was probably imagining the soft earnesty in his tone. He tried to dial down his high hopes.

“In a bit, then…” Patton managed, smiling sweetly, before stepping back and closing the door.

By some miracle, he didn’t sink immediately to the ground despite definitely feeling like a melted marshmallow. Instead, he drained half of his drink and then finally let himself scream.

In a bit turned out to be a couple of hours. It wasn’t anything Patton wasn’t familiar with but that didn’t make it any less agonizing. An indie film meant a smaller crew which meant Talyn could do the makeup on only one actor at a time. Fortunately, the scenes today weren’t very extensive which meant less folks to work on. Unfortunately, the scenes weren’t extensive because they were all plenty aware of how emotionally draining they’d be and had essentially planned for it. Crying came pretty easily to Patton so he wasn’t worried about that part. It was the after: the headache, the puffy red skin, the sore throat.

Talyn muttered as they worked, wondering why they were even bothering with makeup when it was all going to be ruined by the end of filming, anyway. In the reflection of the mirror Patton was sitting in front of, he could just barely see Roman getting his hair fixed. He was gesturing, no doubt telling a story of some sort; Remy had to keep pushing his hands back down anytime they got in the way. Patton was sure the hairdresser was scowling as he worked. If anyone was less a morning person than Patton, it was Remy.

“I love that smile as much as the next, Pat,” Talyn said, sighing, “but I don’t need it just yet. I can’t work when your eyes are all cute and crinkly.”

He murmured a quick apology and schooled his expression into one carefully blank. Talyn got back to applying his eye makeup. It didn’t take much longer before they were finished and Patton was sent on his way to get his hair done next. He and Roman passed by each other and Patton did his best to not swoon quite so obviously when Roman grinned at him. This part went by considerably quicker given that Patton could no longer see Roman in any reflections and that Remy had no patience for anything taking longer than absolutely necessary. He was finished before Talyn was with Roman which meant Patton could head off to see their director for any final adjustments or tips.

Thomas looked like he’d been through the wringer and the day had barely begun. Patton was frowning as he approached, wondering if anyone had told Thomas that his shirt was inside out.

“Morning, kiddo,” Patton greeted, coming to a stop beside him.

Thomas startled, nearly dropping the script he was holding. “Patton!”

“Oops,” Patton said sheepishly, “didn’t mean to spook you.”

Thomas waved the papers dismissively. “Nah, I oughta be better aware of my surroundings. Especially with someone like Janus around.”

Patton scowled. “Yeah, he got me this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thomas responded and Patton did not like how cheeky he looked all of a sudden. “That one seemed more like a treat than it did a trick.”

Patton really wished he didn’t blush so easily! He couldn’t even try and cover his face because then he’d risk messing up Talyn’s hard work. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway,” Patton interrupted loudly before Thomas could keep teasing him. “Has anything changed with filming today that I should worry about?”

Thomas shook his head. “Nah, we’re still all on the same page.” He hesitated. “Sorry that today’s gonna be so taxing on you guys.”

“I’m just hoping we can get it done in one take.”

“If you don’t, Talyn will have to fix you up again,” a new voice said, effortlessly joining their discussion.

“Speak of the Devil,” Thomas muttered.

“And he shall appear!” Patton finished for him before turning to Janus with a glare. “You know it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

Janus shrugged carelessly. “Joan’s looking for you,” he told Thomas, as if backstage and onstage weren’t small enough for Joan to find Thomas relatively easy on their own.

Still, Thomas shot Patton an apologetic look and went off to find his best friend.

In a near perfect match of their earlier interaction, Patton faced Janus with crossed arms and a frown. “Could you stop messing with me? I really don’t need it on top of everything else going on today.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re referring to, dear Patton,” Janus said sweetly, all faux innocence.

Patton tried to not let it get to him. The two rarely got along, even on their good days, and Janus knew this, which meant he especially delighted in bothering Patton on his bad days. There really wasn’t any reason for them to be like this except that Janus had been why Patton nearly missed his audition for this film and he’d never apologized and Patton was still holding a grudge.

“Darling, is he bothering you?”

Before Patton could react to the question, an arm slid around his shoulders. The body he was pulled against was warm and firm and smelled of cinnamon and oh no.

Janus was smirking wickedly.

“Roman,” he all but purred. “I would never bother the object of your affections. I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

Patton.exe has stopped functioning.

The conversation continued, if Janus’s moving lips were anything to go by, but none of it processed for Patton. Roman’s what? Surely they weren’t talking about him? No, it was just Janus playing another one of his mean pranks. It had to be! Roman couldn’t like Patton back because if he did… well, if he did, that meant the kiss they were supposed to share on screen today wouldn’t be quite so one-sided and… and that would mean Patton’s feelings weren’t entirely unfounded… Roman did always bring him coffee. He was there for Patton’s low moods. His smile was sometimes so sincere and soft that Patton thought he might melt anytime he was on the receiving end of it.

Patton blinked and tilted his head up just a bit so he could get a better look at his knight in shining armor. Thinking back on it, Roman was often there to help save Patton from Janus’s crueler comments or jokes. He encouraged Patton through each scene, eyes bright and eager when the camera wasn’t pointed at him. He looked a little tense and Patton wondered if he was angry with what Janus had implied or… or if he was embarrassed to be called out on his feelings.

His gaze returned to Janus and he blinked again. Sound started to filter back in. Janus sneered at him.

“Back with us, then?”

“Alright, folks!” Thomas' voice rang out then, commanding attention. “Let’s get started! If we finish early today, I’m treating y’all to ice cream!”

A chorus of cheers followed as everyone moved to get where they needed to be.

Patton slipped out from Roman’s grasp and gave him a grin that he hoped wasn’t as shaky as it felt. In theory, Roman liking him back should have been a good thing. So why was Patton feeling so icky all of a sudden? Was it because, if it were true, Roman hadn’t been the one to confess? It was hardly fair of Janus to go around sharing other people’s secrets.

“Places!”

Patton snapped out of his daze to find Roman standing in front of him. He looked concerned.

“Hey, deep breaths, okay?” He took an exaggerated one to make a point and Patton found himself mirroring it. The slow exhale lightened the weight on his shoulders.

Patton nodded and Roman smiled at him. It was that sincere, soft smile that made Patton melt and, gosh darn it, hadn’t he already done enough of that this morning?

They hurried to their spots. The script was playing through Patton’s head, his lines and then Roman’s following lines, and Patton’s reactions to each line. He focused on the scene and the reason his character was upset and how it’d feel if he were experiencing it personally. One take. They’d get this finished in one take and then Patton could have ice cream and go back to his hotel room and take a nice long nap.

It was easy to forget everything that had happened earlier once he was onstage. Patton had no trouble getting into his roles most of the time; it certainly helped having someone like Roman opposite him. Roman was the best actor he’d ever had the pleasure of working with: self-assured and reliable and knowledgeable. The confidence he exuded was often contagious. The lights came on and out of the corner of his eye, Patton saw the red light flashing on the cameras. Roman winked at him and Patton only resisted giggling like a lovestruck teenager because Thomas had just called “action!”

It went as effortlessly as it usually did. Roman recited his lines with nary a mistake. Patton worked off of him easily, responses slipping from his tongue before the worries or fears of messing up could even try to take hold. The cast and the set around them faded away until it was just Patton and Roman - Patton’s character and Roman’s character - and this moment and this scene and these feelings. He could feel the tears spilling over, his heart felt as if it were being squeezed in his chest, his throat closing up with choked back sobs. Roman’s expression only aided in Patton’s despair; he never wanted to see Roman this miserable ever again.

It felt like a dream, the way Roman’s hand came up and cradled his cheek so gently and carefully. He wiped away a few of Patton’s tears with his thumb. He wasn’t sure which of them leaned in first, just that his eyes slid closed before Roman’s lips met his. Strangely, Patton’s first thought wasn’t incoherent screaming. It was that Roman tasted of peppermint. Then it was who knew kissing distracted so well from crying? Finally, eventually, it was incoherent screaming.

“And cut!”

They didn’t leap away from each other as if electrocuted, though Patton’s surprise at the reminder that they weren’t alone did shock him. Instead, they separated slowly, Roman’s hand drifting from Patton’s face to his shoulder.

“You’re… you’re a really good kisser, Roman.”

It wasn’t until Roman’s face went bright, bright red that Patton realized what he’d said.

“That was great, guys!” Thomas exclaimed, slinging his arms around them both and shattering the fragile space between them. “We’ll look over it real quick for any glaring mistakes but I think it went perfectly! We can fix the little things in post. I think you both deserve a break.”

“Thanks,” Patton squeaked, shooting up from where he sat. “Bye!”

For the second time that day, Patton bolted away and to his dressing room.

The door had barely slammed shut behind him before Patton was diving for the countertop he’d left his phone on. He was calling his second emergency contact and throwing himself into the pile of beanbags, cushions, and pillows in one corner of the room, all in one breath.

“Hey, Pat,” answered the low, rumbling voice of his brother.

Even if Patton had wanted to coherently explain what was going on, he couldn’t have. The words came tumbling out of his mouth without any sense and he kept cycling back to “kiss” and “Roman.” It didn’t help that he was half-sobbing, half-laughing, and all-panicking. At some point, he thought Virgil might have covered up his end of the receiver and spoke to someone else, but Patton was too flustered to be sure.

“Okay, bud, let’s take a minute to breathe.”

And so Virgil counted his younger sibling through several deep breaths, inhaling four and holding four and exhaling four. Once Patton had calmed down, Virgil asked him to repeat what he’d tried to say earlier.

“Oh. Ohh, right, that scene was today.”

“Virgil,” Patton said very seriously, pacing the room back and forth. “I… I think he likes me back.”

“Nooo,” Virgil responded and Patton frowned at his tone. “Really?”

“Why’d you say it like that!”

“Dude… Roman’s crush on you is as obvious as your crush on him.”

“His what?!”

“I’m sorry to say that you got all the gay disaster genes.”

“Tell that to your unsigned Valentine’s Day confession card to Logan.”

“Hey! We agreed to never mention that again!”

There was muffled speaking on Virgil’s end of the call and Virgil snorted. “Oh, that’ll be fun,” Patton heard him say in response. Before he could ask what would be fun, there was a knock at his door.

“Patton?”

By absolute sheer willpower, Patton didn’t scream.

“Answer it before I die of tension,” Virgil deadpanned.

Would it really be so bad if he did? After everything that had happened today, it really did seem like Roman might truly like him back… Sure, Patton wanted to bury himself into a hole and never leave out of embarrassment because of what he’d said after the kiss, but… It wasn’t like they were finished filming. Patton was going to see Roman again, whether he liked it or not.

“I’m hanging up now, okay?”

“Okay,” Patton whimpered. He was frozen a few moments longer, the phone still pressed to his ear.

“I can come back later,” Roman said, voice muffled. “Or not at all, if you’d prefer that. I don’t want to make you uncomf—”

Moving faster than he thought he was physically capable, Patton dropped his cell, and lurched across the room. He yanked the door open to handsome Roman, nervous Roman, sheepish Roman, and acted before his brain could get any more conflicted at the sight of handsome nervous sheepish Roman. “Please don’t leave.”

Roman went from worrying nervously at his lower lip to a small hopeful smile. He looked… strangely vulnerable. Patton wanted to protect him from everything bad, just as Roman had supported and kept him safe in the past.

“Hi.”

“Uhm… hi,” Patton replied. After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped back and gestured for Roman to enter.

For the time they’d been working together, neither had been inside the other’s dressing room. Actually, Patton hadn’t gone by Roman’s at all; maybe his was the one with the star-sticker-decorated door. Roman caught sight of Patton’s Comfort Corner and sent him a curious glance.

“It’s better than a chair?” Patton answered with a half-shrug.

“It’s like The Sanders Couch,” Roman said agreeably.

“Did Thomas ever tell you the story behind it?”

“Which one?” Roman asked, laughing. “There’s so many. He has it sent with him to every filming location, you know. Apparently, it’s magic.”

Patton’s apprehension was falling away slowly but surely and he thought it amazing how even being near Roman had that effect on him.

“May I?”

Patton blinked, confused. Roman gestured to the corner.

“Oh! Yeah! Yes, of course.” Patton hurriedly responded, stumbling a little over his words.

“May…” Roman rubbed the back of his neck and Patton didn’t understand what he could possibly have to be bashful about before remembering oh, right, he likes me back. “May we?”

It felt like Patton’s whole body was submerged in scalding hot water. “O— okay,” he squeaked. Before he could melt on the spot like his jelly-wobbly legs wanted him to, Patton joined Roman in settling cozily amongst the beanbags, cushions, and pillows.

It was like second nature to them. Without even meaning to, Patton gravitated towards Roman, curling against his side as if it was right where he belonged. Roman’s hand was carding through Patton’s hair before they’d even fully got their legs positioned just right. In the time that Patton had made this dressing room his own, he’d added frequently to this pile, and he knew for a fact that there was room enough for two people to lounge on it without having to sit too close. As if he weren’t already in a tizzy, realizing how easy it was for him and Roman to be like this… Well, it was a miracle he hadn’t fainted already.

“So…” Roman began at the same moment Patton exclaimed, “I’m sorry!”

Naturally, Roman looked bewildered.

“I should have told you sooner,” Patton barreled on. He pointedly avoided looking up, instead keeping his gaze trained on his hands folded in his lap. “I was just… scared, I guess? Mostly of rejection… uhm, duh… But also of ruining this movie for you? I didn’t want to make filming difficult for… well, for anyone! And I didn’t want to risk doing that just because of my silly feelings.”

“Silly?” Roman echoed.

“And I know it’s not something I need to apologize for,” Patton continued in a rush, “but I’m still so sorry that Janus said what he said. A… about me being the, uh… your… Well, you know. He didn’t have any right doing that.”

Roman laughed, sounding a little incredulous. Patton wasn’t sure what part Roman had trouble believing. It was true, after all! The very idea of someone spilling Patton’s crush without his say-so was absolutely horrifying.

“If I’m being completely honest?” Roman began, shifting just enough that he could cradle Patton’s cheek in his hand and tilt his face up. “I don’t think I’d have had the courage to do it myself, anyway.”

He… He was being genuine, Patton realized with a start.

“You’re the most courageous person I know!” Patton argued.

“I am also terrified of rejection,” Roman amended.

“Now hold on, if I’m scared of rejection and you’re scared of rejection, then who’s flying the plane?”

Roman laughed so hard, Patton was jostled by it in his embrace. It was a sensation he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“Regrettably, I think that Janus is our pilot.”

Patton pouted. “Don’t like that.”

“We might owe him a thank you.”

“Don’t like that!” Patton repeated.

“Well, how about something that you do like?” Roman suggested, still holding him so carefully, still looking at him with such a sincere and soft smile. Still, there was just a hint of trepidation in his tone, the tiniest bit of unease in his eyes.

Patton realized awfully late that neither of them had actually, completely declared their feelings yet. He sat up in a hurry, placing a hand on Roman’s chest, and taking a deep breath. He thought it might give him at least a moment to sort his thoughts so that he could give Roman the confession he deserved. He thought wrong.

“You!” he practically shouted. “I like you! So much! It’s ridiculous! It’s exhilarating and scary and wonderful and well, I mean—” He stuttered to a halt, dissolving momentarily into breathless giggles. “You’re so considerate, do you know that? You care so much and you have so many little ways of showing it! And oh my god, you’re the best coworker I’ve ever had. You’re so full of passion and dedication, it’s an absolute joy to act alongside you and, and—” Again, Patton paused, but this time it was thanks to Roman’s slack-jawed awe. Raising both arms, Patton took Roman’s face in his hands and squished his cheeks a little. “And don’t even get me started on how handsome you are.”

In the time he’d known Roman, Patton had never seen him speechless. Patton was worried that he’d broken him. The seconds ticked by until, eventually, Roman made a sound akin to a tea kettle whistling. He slowly leaned in and down until Patton had to let go, instead opting to wrap his arms around Roman’s neck. With his face hidden now in Patton’s shoulder, it became clear how hard Roman was shaking.

“Was that too much?” Patton asked quietly.

Roman mumbled something but Patton couldn’t have understood it if he tried. Maybe he just needed a few minutes to collect himself. After some time, Roman did emerge, looking a bit more calm. Patton hardly had time to worry what this meant for him before Roman pulled Patton’s hands loose from where they’d been curled in the hair at the nape of his neck and held them gently in his own.

“I like you,” he started, oh-so-seriously. “I think I like you more than I like theatre?”

Patton gasped.

“Hush,” Roman teased, stifling a laugh. “I wake up some mornings and make it out of bed just because I know I’ll see you. It’s so easy to exist around you. I’ve never felt judged or hurt by you; you’re exceedingly kind and thoughtful. I cherish all of our moments, whether candid or staged. You’ve brought stability to my life in a way I never expected and I can’t tell you how important that is to me. Your grumpy pre-caffeine face cheers me up more than the sun in the sky does!”

“You hush,” Patton muttered, only able to fake offense for a few seconds.

“When Thomas takes us all out for ice cream, could we share a sundae?” Roman requested and he almost sounded shy about it. It made Patton’s heart flutter.

“There’s no one else I would want to banana split with,” Patton quipped.

Roman dropped Patton’s hands and groaned, planting his face into his palms. The last of the tension in the air vanished and Patton finally felt like he could breathe a little easier. He leaned back a little, trying to keep it together.

“Aw, come on, that was really just the cherry on top!”

Roman’s response might have been muffled but that didn’t hide the sound of his grin.

Patton shimmied and wiggled his way out of the Comfort Corner until he was back on his feet. “I hope you aren’t considering Taking Back Sun-dae,” Patton said, putting on his best pout.

“Oh my god,” Roman managed before he broke and fell into a fit of laughter.

Patton gave in too, though he was slightly distracted by the sight of Roman so carefree and happy. That was another thing he’d have to get used to, he supposed… Not that he minded. In fact, Patton decided as Roman eventually got up and pulled him into a tight, warm hug, he was really looking forward to it.

[xlehukax]

What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted?

Foreword: This is for @head-over-heart​‘s 100 Follower Writing thing!! It took me forever but hey, I did it. urm you asked for angst and... it’s angst-

Ships: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 5036

Warnings: ANGST SO MUCH ANGST ALL THE FLUFF IS ANGST IN SHEEPS CLOTHING, Language, Cursing, Verbal Abuse, Lying, Manipulative Loki, Unsympathetic Loki, Past Relationships, Money Issues, Tortured Loki, Blood, Sorta self harm? it’s weird, again this is angst if you’re reading it for fluff I direct you to literally anything else on my page

Summary: You had thought your relationship with Loki was the main story, the tale of two lovers, a romance. It was merely a preface, and that you now know.  

~~~~

2009

You first met him by accident. You were just wandering about the bookstore: you had gone for a particular book, which you found, and were now letting yourself be caught within the pamphlets for vacations in Hawaii and test prep books. You let your hands brush some of them idly: the smell of paper is something familiar. Calming.

You step back for a moment, only to bump into a tall man. Hastily turning about-face, you nearly trip over the apology in your mouth at the sight of him.

Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t begin to cover it. He looked like he belonged in the Romance section, not squashed between ACT Test Prep and AP Chemistry.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry,” you squeak. He blinks at you slowly. Encapturing, you think to yourself, as his eyes turn from an icy blue to a green only seen on fresh grass.

“It is no problem at all, my dear,” he says with a small wisp of a smile. You have to hold yourself back from gaping at his voice, all velvet and red wine. You begin to take little steps outside of the aisle. Being within the scope of this guy is making your heart race way too fast for your liking. You’ve made it a few feet when a large elegant hand lands on your shoulder. Tensing immediately, you turn to see who did such a gesture.

“Apologies, dear, but would you mind helping me out for a moment? You seem acquainted with this establishment,” he asks, a teasing tone to his honeyed voice.

“Oh yes, totally,” you yelp, sounding nothing if not vastly peasant-like comparatively to him, “Could you maybe- take your hand off my shoulder first?” The mystery man removes his hand with leisure, holding on a moment longer than necessary before removing it completely.

“Of course,” he murmurs.

“Alrighty then, what are you looking for?” you smile at him bashfully, unable to meet his eyes.

“World history, if you would,”

“That’s sorta… a wide topic. Like, maps or something?” you clarify. He shakes his head.

“No, the entire history of the world. From the start of mankind to now,” he ensures. You stare for a moment: the history of the entire world. Something that kids learn for years. Yeah sure, that’s totally easy to do.  

“You mean… just America, right? Ha…” you start to laugh but take in his stony expression. No, he’s completely serious. Where has this guy been that he needs to know everything about the world? “Alright then. I guess I could show you to the World History section,” you accept. He smiles appreciatively.

“Yes, that would be satisfactory. Thank you.”

“Oh… it’s no problem. I wasn’t doing anything anyway,” you chuckle, leading him through the rows upon rows of books and weaving through the different sections. This mystery man’s gait is smooth and soundless. You finally reach the section, feeling as though you should bow before moving to leave.

“Whelp, this is it. It’s really funny that you want to learn everything- I went through a phase like this- well not a phase, I’m an out of work history teacher now, you see that’s why this is so amusing to me. You probably don’t want to hear this, heh- I’ll be going then,” you turn around.

“Wait-” he tugs on your arm lightly. Goosebumps, you think as you shiver. “How about… you show me how to do this? Be my tutor, if you would. I’d like to learn. Please, my dear,” he asks so politely, so carefully.

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name-”

“It’s Loki. Now, please. I will compensate you for your time. Please,” his eyes are wide and pleading, and you can’t bring yourself to say no. Even though you should. Even though he seems somewhat dangerous, with how his eyes swirl with unknowable emotion. Even though you just learned his goddamn oddball name.

“Alright then, Loki. I’ll help you pick some books out. And then we’ll see,” you adhere, already knowing full well you’re giving in too easily. Loki listens intently as you explain how many books there are, how many world events have occurred. You end up talking with him, even laughing slightly at his clever words. Conversation with Loki is like playing backgammon: skill, and luck, and fun in an intellectually teasing way. He’s suave and charming, and so powerfully endearing. You make him laugh just once, talking about common legends of zombies and vampires. He laughs in disbelief, in mockery of humanity: but it’s a noise unlike anything you’ve heard. It rolls over your skin like a wave.

When you go to buy your books, you go to the register together. Your one book: and the five textbooks he’s holding. Utop of the intellect, utop of the beautiful, utop of the elegance: he’s strong. Loki carefully places his books on the checkout desk, and the cashier starts scanning them.

“And what choice of payment will you be using today?” the cashier asks calmly, offering a polite smile.

“Payment?”

“Yes. Credit, debit, or cash?” they repeat. Loki’s expression flutters, and you glimpse something beneath his easy face. Something that to be honest, makes you think that you were right to call him dangerous. You tentatively place you hand over his. Instantly, you nearly jerk your hand away: his body is so cold, it’s what you’d imagine a cadaver would feel like. But, insistent on comforting him, you stubbornly keep your hand on his. He breathes in a sharp breath, and his other hand fists by his side.

“Hey, I got it. Here’s my card: can you put my book on it too?” you smile gratefully at the cashier, who rings it up with shaking hands. Loki untenses as he watches.

“Did you forget your wallet at home or something, Loki?” you ask curiously. His eyes glance at you and then look away again.

“Yes. Yes, I did. This is very peculiar for me. Apologies,”

You chuckle.

“It’s fine, it’s only… oh my god, 230? That’s criminal!” you gasp. The cashier shrugs.

“Textbooks go for a lot these days, education is expensive,” they merely say, before handing your card back.

You’re trembling by the time the card is returned to your wallet. I’ll be broke. Late on rent, at the very least. I’ll have to skip meals to keep my apartment, and even then… that’s no measly sum.

Loki takes the books from the cashier and leads you out of the store. Once outside, he takes your book out of the bag and hands it to you.

“Much appreciated, my dear. Would you like to help me sort through this hefty amount of information?” he asks. You frown at him. He’s still asking about that?

“I’ll pay you handsomely. It will more than make up the price of these textbooks.”

“Oh?” The edge of Loki’s mouth pulls up in a half-smile.

“Of course. The least I could do.”

~~~~~

To say you were smitten with Loki after only two months of teaching him would be an understatement. You’ve been going to his immense apartment every three days since the day at the bookstore for ninety minutes at a time.

There’s something about him that’s made you memorize his mannerisms and phrases. When he’s exasperated, he likes to shout “By the Norns!”. When he’s reading, everything is still with the exception of his fingers that tap his thigh or sneak over to your knee and rub circles around it.

He’s smart as all hell. You rarely have to review anything anymore: he can take in the new information so quickly. And he immerses himself in the knowledge he acquires. You can tell that Loki adores it, adores the learning aspect. It’s childlike, almost, and so painfully endearing at this point that your heart pangs at his excitement.

And he always goes out of his way to be kind. You can tell that he’s holding back everything. It’s in his eyes, you’ve noticed: they start as an icy blue when you come in, but warm into emerald after you say hello. If that’s not romantic… you don’t know what is.

Every inch of your body flutters when Loki looks at you. It’s embarrassing, and you blush, and he teases you about it. You bite your lip and look up at his apartment building: you’re ten minutes early to his apartment. Should you just wait in the lobby? Humming tunelessly, you stroll into the huge high-ceilinged building. It’s frigid in the room, juxtaposing the easy sun outside. You shiver slightly and take a seat in one of the black chairs decorating the lobby to wait. Tapping your foot, look at your phone… it’s all fine until a harsh hand lands on your shoulder.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’d ever find you in a place like this!” a harsh bark laughs. You glance over your shoulder: it’s a past ex-boyfriend of yours. You didn’t know that they lived in the building. He smiles cruelly, knowingly.

“Why not?” you huff, closing yourself off from his overbearing presence.

“Because people with money go here. People who can afford things! That’s not you, bitch. You had to leech off my money the whole goddamn time we were together. You remember that?”

“I just… you said that-”

“Yeah, you do,” he brushes a lock of hair back, to which you hiss a hushed “Don’t touch me”. He merely chuckles. “God, such a golddigger.” You said what’s mine is yours, you said if I needed anything I could just ask and you’d help, I didn’t know- “Paying me back with that second rate body like a fucking slut.”

You shake and glare at him abrasively, but say nothing for fear of what he’d retaliate with. It wasn’t paying you back it was a fucking relationship-

“Bet you haven’t been seeing anyone else. No one else wants to take on that kind of fucking luggage, huh? God, you’re useless. And I heard you lost your job? Wow, no one can stand you. Could’ve told ya that,” he snorts. You’re shaking now. You convince yourself you won’t give him the pleasure of making you cry, so instead, you’re looking at the asshole angrily.

“You shut up. I have a new job now, I’m tutoring-”

“Haha- tutoring? No wonder. Then they don’t have to see you every day! Wow, that’s smart. Because they’ll be able to cancel on you at any time. Truly a good thing. God, I wish I could’ve done that with you. So fucking clingy,” he’s smirking, and you want to cry, and then he’s being pulled back aggressively.

Loki growls at the man, who suddenly seems quite small and meek comparatively.

“Get out of here,” he snarls at the man, who trembles at his sharp words.

“B-but I live h-here-”

“Go out then,” Loki’s voice does not waver for a moment. It is strong and dangerous and protective and the man who had been spitting such vileness runs with his tail between his legs. Loki watches him go steely before helping you from your seat. His arm holds your waist tightly, restricting your movements as he all but drags you to the elevator.

“Who in Hel was that bastard?” Loki asks you with no lack of malice: his tone is seething and his eyes swirl icicle.

“Just an ex-boyfriend of mine,” you whisper, still trying to reign in the tears. Loki is muttering things under his breath, the words rising and falling in inflection but indistinguishable from one another. Loki’s arm never leaves your torso. You make it all the way upstairs, all the way to Loki’s beautiful apartment. He’s still muttering to himself, his body tense when you excuse yourself to the bathroom near silently.

You close the door, listening for the quiet click of the lock, before breaking down and crying. How mortifying. Loki had to come down and pick you up like a lost kitten, how useless you must seem to him now. You’re sure that Loki hadn’t thought you some poor wretch but now he should. You mourn the loss of Loki, the loss of this relationship that you were already attached to. There’s a harsh knock on the door.

“S-sorry, just give me a minute, I’ll be out in a moment-” you sniffle, trying very hard to make it seem like you're not crying in his fancy bathroom. The knocking continues, and then suddenly halts. You breathe in. And breathe out, and then the door is knocked off its hinges.

You whirl around to face the intruder: Loki, leg extended, looking murderous. His eyes soften as you squint at him through the tears. It’s slow and seemingly something that Loki is not used to when he bends to your level on the ground and wraps his arms around you hesitantly. You lean on him, letting him take you in his arms completely.

“Oh, my dear… you’re trembling. Please don’t cry,” he murmurs, face landing in your hair, “Don’t cry, my dear.”

You sniffle, “I’m not crying.”

“Don’t lie to me, sweet,” he says: part of you thinks it was supposed to be a joke, but he says it with such dark connotations that you don’t dare laugh. You just nestle in close to his cold body, feeling hot yourself.

“He’ll never bother you again. I’ll make sure of it. Shh, I’ve got you now,” Loki says, and his lips move down to your temple and press in sweetly. You gasp and nearly fall out of his arms. Loki catches you before it can happen, and stands up fluidly. You’re still in his arms, and not the lightest person: clearly, his strength is immense. He knocks down a door and holds you like it’s nothing. He looks at you sharply, daring you to speak.

“Why…?” you ask slowly, mouth feeling dry as his eyes bore into you.

“Why not, my dear? You’re beautiful,” he whispers, letting his breath dance over your ear. You shiver, and he takes it as an invitation to press a kiss onto the shell of your ear. “You’re so very smart… you’d think you’d notice by now how much I want you… I’d like to keep you,”

“Loki, why are you-”

“Shh,” he instructs, his eyes green and warm now, “I know you want me, my dear. I know it,”

You’re so embarrassed. Were you that obvious? Ugh. You place a hand on his muscular arm, pressing it to signal that you’d like to leave.

“No no, my dear. Please don’t go, stay with me… I’ll take such good care of you,” he says softly, pulling in close. “Don’t you know me by now? I’d never hurt you. Never forsake you.”

“Loki, I’m s-supposed to be your tutor, for god sakes, I-I can’t-” you stutter, blushing profusely. He’s so fast, he’s moving so fast all of a sudden, why-

“Then quit. Norns, woman… it’s not so hard,” he growls, his grip tightening around you. You yelp a little in surprise. His arms loosen immediately and he sets you on the ground with a guilty expression. “Apologies,” he says hoarsely. You laugh awkwardly and take a step back.

You avoid Loki’s gaze and rather watch his hands. Because you know, you know, if you look at him you’ll be swallowed up and the next thing you know you’re in his heinously comfortable embrace. Loki’s hands quiver at his sides for a moment and then they hesitantly rise. You watch carefully as they move upwards until they’re cupping your face. You’re unaware until it happens that you’re staring right into his eyes.

Green. Green as forests that you’ve only seen in pictures, green like dancing leaves in summer, green like liquid emeralds.

“My dear… please don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. Please. I’m desperate,” he murmurs: you can bring yourself to look away from those mesmerizing eyes. He’s gorgeous, he’s so pretty-

“Alright,” you whisper, then louder, “Alright. I can’t bring myself to say no to you,” you smile. Loki breathes a deep breath of relief before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close. He barely checks if you truly want this before pressing your lips together. He dominates completely, pulling you close and pressing in more all at once. It’s intense and demanding and you melt. You’re melting into him, and he’s so very cold as he pulls you up into his arms and carries you away.

~~~~~

Swept away. That’s how things felt. You were no longer in your own life, you existed solely in Loki’s. You lost yourself over and over in his arms, in his kisses. He told you he loved you. No, he tells you he loves you.

You said it first, of course: “I love you,” over a cup of hot coffee. Loki looked at you with raised brows: “I love you too, of course.” It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, effortlessly. He pressed a kiss onto your forehead and then asked to continue the lessons.

It’s magic. It’s magic that has lasted for nearly a year now. So much so that you’re head over heels with what you used to think could be nothing but fantasy.

You live in his apartment now, for the most part: he’s never been to your own drab place but pays for it anyway while he keeps you. Loki pays for your food, eats your meals beside you. He accompanies you everywhere you wish to go. He hangs on every word you say, every memory you impart with a bemused calmness. He lets you rest on his side, snuggling in, and watch all sorts of movies. And you’re still telling him every piece of knowledge you know about the world.

Loki’s odd sometimes. He doesn’t understand the simplest things: the grocery store still eludes him, and it took him ages to discover that phones have larger capabilities than just texting and calling. Loki gets upset about it… when the television doesn’t work, when his delivery is late, when you can’t explain why a thing is doing something. He’ll spit foreign curses and sometimes, though it’s rare, things break. Loki apologizes instantly after: buys you a better, more expensive item to replace it. Make-up kisses and snuggles. He holds you tightly, close to his chest, so near that you can’t even move.

You think- no, you know that Loki’s not of this world. He’s an alien, or a vampire, or something. He won’t tell you which, rather chuckles at your attempts to deduce his origin. There was one point where he pulled a scepter from midair: you gawked.

“Magic,” you whispered, “You have magic.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he had said lightly, teasingly. He held his scepter with a practiced grace: you watched enraptured as the gem suspended on it glows an alluring sapphire. You looked to Loki, shocked.

What you saw in his eyes made you want to look away again. The stunning blue, matching that of the scepter… how his eyes bored into the gem obsessively, how his mouth was forming words and sentences near silently. It was a movement you know all too well: it’s the one he likes to do in the early morning. Whispers of sweet words, promises, and adorations. It had been uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable.

“Loki,” you had started, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. And he had nearly swatted your hand away, his mouth pulling animalistically before he caught himself and apologized. Apologized profusely, at the sight of your eyes tearing up. Magicked the scepter away alongside his ice eyes and held you, murmuring lovely nothings. It’s in the past now, anyway.

Except for select parts. Select parts that relapse again and again. As time passes, Loki… changes. He’s angrier. Vengeful, with eyes of winter. He’ll be fine one moment, and the next he’s spitting vile at something or other. Occasionally it’s you. And you try to take the brunt of it, knowing full well that he doesn’t mean it, he loves you… and he comes to his senses after a moment anyway, assuring you that it was just a spell. And you kiss.

It’s a relationship, though you haven’t put any labels on it. You’re glad for that… because if you were still his tutor, yesterday would’ve been the last session. There is no more to learn. No more to teach. You can’t help but smile to yourself: now it’s just you and Loki, nothing providing a reason for the relationship to be anything short of dating.

Today is normal. Well, the new normal. You wake up to a cold bed: you can never tell how long he had been out of the sheets. He was always cold in them, cold outside them.

“Loki?” you grumble, feeling around the sheets. Nothing. He’s up already. Groaning, you stretch your body as you exit the bed. Sore, as per usual, after Loki has his way. You stumble out to the kitchen where Loki has his hands pressed into the counter and his back away from you. Smiling silently, you pad over to his back and embrace him.

“Loki- we’re all done! No more lessons, just me and you,” you sing-song cheerfully, sunshine and love, and- he backhands you suddenly with his left hand, with such force that your face slaps to the side and forces you to the floor. Tears spring to your eyes: from the pain yes, but also the betrayal. He hit you. Square across the face. Loki snarls above you, standing over your body intimidatingly. If you hadn’t been intimate with this man, you would’ve thought he was a demon with eyes of the frozen sea.

“Useless bitch! Wretch, you dare lay your hands on me? You are but a toy, a harlot- you do what I tell you and nothing more. You must be truly naive to think that you are anything above that. Now, bow to your king, beg for forgiveness,” he demands. You’re terrified, clutching onto your quickly reddening face and staring at him. “Kneel!” he yells.

“L-Loki, I don’t understand- why would you- why would you hit me?” you stammer as tears start to fall.

“You truly, hah, you’re truly a fool. Idiotic mewling quim,” he bends down to your level and with the same hand as before, slaps you the other way. “No one will ever love you. I used you, and now you have no use to me. So either submit and I’ll find a reason for you, something that fits your status… not a consort for a king, no, perhaps just a holding place until I find someone better... so, wench,” he grabs onto your stinging and bruised jaw with that ethereal strength, “Submit to your savior or get out of my sight. You are not worthy. Of my time. My presence. My being. You are nothing.”

He laughs maliciously as you cry and struggle to get up from your sprawled position on the floor.

“You’re trembling,” he notes aloud, sneering. You make a strangled noise: had once remarked the same thing, but with such kindness and caring and with a hug to boot. And now… and now, he steps on your face with light pressure, enough to make it hurt. “Stop it, and answer me.” You’re crying heavily now, sobs ripping themselves out of your chest, and it takes the last of your strength to punch the inside of his knee on the leg that’s holding you down.

Loki grunts and stumbles back, and you race away to the bedroom before he can regain his bearings. You lock the door with quivering fingers and slide down it before devolving into tears completely.

I thought we were okay. I thought this was it.

You’re sitting there, shaking, as you hear Loki’s feet stomp their way to the door. Your phone is charging fruitlessly in the living room: there’s no landline in the bedroom either. The penthouse that Loki’s in is way too far up to escape by a window if you want to survive the fall. Truly, hiding in the bedroom was not one of your wisest choices. You hear his footsteps, pounding the floorboards approach… until they falter before the only thing barring his entry into the bedroom. You crawl to the door of the closet: maybe if you’re quiet, you can hide there without a hitch. And he’ll be back in his right mind.

Bits and pieces of mutterings make it through the two closed doors: things like “no, stop”, “insolent”, “disobey”, “fine”, “go”, “stay”, “carry out”, “die”, “how could you”. The door slams: then his footsteps sound, quieter as he goes away. You breathe a sigh of relief, the breath coming out staggered, and lean against the side of the closet before crying a little more and gingerly touching your swelling cheeks.

How did I get here?

~~~~~

When you finally exit the bedroom, a good hour after the event, you’ve decided to forgive him already. You know it’s bad, and you know you shouldn’t but… you love him. And that’s bad, he’s bad but… perhaps you’re making him better? You are, you’re sure of it.

Tiptoeing out of the room, you hear the tell-tale sound of water running. You peek first from the corner of the hall. Loki’s simply at the sink, washing something or other. He seems peaceful. Docile. There’s a rhythmic “scritch scritch scritch” as Loki cleans. You grab your phone from its charging spot, just in case, before striding up to Loki’s straight-backed figure. You clear your throat when you stand behind him. Surprising him with a hug hadn’t been the best idea before.

“L-Loki? Is… is everything okay? Did something happen? If it’s about what happened... it-it’s okay. You weren’t in your right mind. I know you, I know you’re not like that: you’re so good to me! It’s just one time. It won’t happen again. I forgive you,” you smile at his back kindly, and take a step forward when he doesn’t respond. A step after another, set to the tune of “scritch scritch scritch”. “Loki, I’m going to hug you now, if that’s okay.”

You reach up with a quivering hand to tap his shoulder, having to step closer in the process, and what you see makes you stumble.

He’s not cleaning the dishes.

Loki is using the steel wool you use to clean the pans on… on his left hand. It’s shredded, horribly shredded: blood coats the sink and his arm, slowly going down the drain mixed with the running water. The scritch noise was… was his bones in his hands against the wool. His body shakes as you gasp, horrified.

“Oh my god, what are you- what are you doing, Loki, stop,” you sob, reaching forwards to pull the wool out of his hand. Your action is halted by the sudden clamping of his right hand on your wrist, the wool landing in the sink: it holds you steadfast and still with his much superior strength. His head turns to yours, and you can’t help but whimper at the emotions in his teary eyes.

Despair.

Hopelessness.

Pain.

And most worryingly…

Fear. Palpable, incredible, fear in those green eyes: they swirl dangerously with blue in a battle that you can’t help but feel terrified of. Loki whines like a scared child, his eyes wide as he clearly struggles to let go of your hand.

“Loki, let’s just calm down now, we need- we need to get you to a hospital,” you cry, gently removing your hand from his grip as it laxes just a bit. Loki shakes his head slightly, all he can muster.

His mouth moves, and no words come out. You watch patiently with shaking shoulders as he battles with himself to get the words out. When they finally come, garbled and quiet and painful to hear, it’s not affirmation or an apology or a declaration of love. It’s…

“Run. Please.”

You stagger backward in shock.

“But… but I love you, we can do this-”

He shakes his head, an “I’m sorry” being mouthed, and then his face distorts in pain. His bloody hand constricts around itself, shaking.

“Run, now! Never return, ever,” he growls.

You glance at his wrecked hand, then back at Loki’s tearful eyes, and then at his pained expression. He… he isn’t right. Something is happening to him, and you are not the one who can fix it. You cannot help him here. You know that, but you have a connection to him, you’re in love-

“I’ve never loved you. I’m… I’m so sorry- I think that with time and in different circumstances I could’ve but… ngk- you have to leave, before it’s too late. Go as far away as you can, quickly as you can. Things are coming, and you… you are but a mere foolish girl who loves too easily. You do not deserve the fate that the others will experience,” he grits out.

Your heart shatters.

Every snuggle on the couch, every peck over cooking eggs, every “I love you”. Months of your life, months spent in love, months with who you though yourself undeserving of and how goddamn amazing it is that you’re with him and he loves you and you wanted to spend your life with him oh god-

“Oh god,” you cry, tears spilling in great numbers, “I- Fuck! I can’t believe this, I-I I thought-”

“Leave,” Loki demands, a now all too familiar malice creeping into his tone, and you trip over your feet grabbing your coat and phone and wallet before leaving for good. Something is terribly wrong with this man, and you can’t help him. You don’t want to help him at this point, with all his lies and manipulations.

You leave alone.

You leave mourning the loss of months of your life.

You leave brokenhearted.

~~~~

And there’s something about watching Loki decimate the city you love on the television a few weeks later, in a new town with a new job and a new home, that makes you feel as though broken dreams and departed love will never ever allow you to have peace of mind.

~~~~

That’s it... Thanks for reading. 

Taglists: 

Anything & Everything: @myraiswack, @blindtaleteller, @head-over-heart, @karushinekomiya 

The Loki boy: @butterfly-in-progress, @loki-yoursaviourishere, @sweet-talkin-woman , @frostedgiant , @is-it-madness

If you enjoyed, please reblog- it truly means the world.

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EWTBATF Vlahd x Teen!reader Oneshot

(!NOTE: THIS IS NOT A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE READER AND VLAHD, THIS IS A FATHER DAUGHTER TYPE RELATIONSHIP!

Hello! I made this oneshot for people with daddy issues who used to simp for Vlahd but now want him to be your dad. The reader uses they/them pronouns because I want everyone to be able to feel included while reading this.

Vlahd and Eddsworld The Beginning and The Friend doesn't belong to me! It's a fancomic made by Makenzie Matthews, Jaculynn Kristiansen, Alyssa Grissom and Brittany Clark. Eddsworld belongs to Edd Gould. If I use any art in this oneshot I will credit the artist and give their socials.

P.s: If this is well received, I might make a story about this, so stay tuned~

P.p.s: I know this isn't Creepypasta content, but I felt like doing something a bit different.)

!DISCLAIMER! This oneshot deals with a lot of gore, mental, emotional, and physical abuse, fighting, missing body parts, and swearing! If you are sensitive to these topics, I advise you don't read this oneshot! Also, some spoilers for the fancomic EWTBOTF, so if you haven't read it or haven't been reading it for the past few months, I urge you to do so. Not just for this oneshot, but the comic is also pretty good!

Tessellate

Word count: 3,569

Song: Tessellate - Alt J

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Three guns, and one goes off. Ones empty, ones not quick enough. One burn, one red, one grin. Search the graves while the camera spins."

The same thing happened every single day. You would wake up to screaming, try to shower and do your morning routine without being interrupted, spend the rest of the day your home trying not to get involved with your parent's marital issues, go to school, do chores, get screamed at for not doing something right, eat dinner, do homework, cry, then go to bed. This was your life since you were ten years old. Your biological father died when you were nine, then your mother got remarried a few months after your tenth birthday.

Your parents were very emotionally and mentally abusive. Sometimes they hit you, but would feign sorrow to try to make you feel safe around them. They continued this behavior for years, until you were thirteen. Apparently, your stepfather had gotten into some shady business with the infamous Red Leader. You had to move from your home country to England so your stepfather could work with the Red Leader. You were miserable, you had lost all of your friends you had in school. You had to go to a private boarding school, you never got picked on, but you found it hard to make friends. After a few moths, you finally got comfortable with your new surroundings.

One day though, that all changed for the worse. Your mom and stepfather got into a huge argument, apparently your mom was cheating on a man in the same army as your stepfather. He hit your mom, your mom left right after that. He then hit you really hard in the face, so hard that it left a mark. You burst into tears and ran to your room. You emptied out your book bag, and threw some clothes, hygienic products, your phone and charger, etc, into it. You quietly walked out of your room and out the front door while your dad wasn't looking. You walked down the streets of your neighborhood and out into the little town a few blocks away.

Popping your earbuds in, you listen to some music to try and calm yourself down. You walk around town for a about an hour before you passed a creepy alleyway. Unbeknownst to you, a man stepped out of that alleyway. He lightly tapped you on the shoulder. You stop dead in your tracks. You shakily turn around and take out your earbud to confront the man. A man with shaggy brown hair, an eyepatch, big eyebrows, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth stood before you. Its Paul, your stepfather's mate!

Paul asked why you weren't at your house and offered to take you back. You explained what happened and Paul was shocked and disgusted with your stepfather's behavior. He took you back to the Red Army base and let you stay there. You agree and he takes you to the base. As soon as you get there, Paul took you to talk with Red Leader himself. Scared, you explain to the Red Leader what happened with your mom and stepdad. Red Leader let you stay on base on one condition. You have to serve in the Red Army when you turn sixteen. You agreed because you had nowhere else to go.

It's been five months since your sixteenth birthday. You have been integrated into the Red Army, and you have made a bunch of freinds on the base. It's not so bad working for the Red Army. You even have a father figure now. Even though you'd never tell him you consider him a father figure, in fear of him not being ready to be a dad and pushing you away. Sargent Major Vlahd has been training you since you were fourteen. You started out being very skittish towards him. You didn't know what he would do to you. Eventually, you two have grown closer and closer together.

Vlahd has been teaching you Russian, and you have been working your ass off during training with him. He has taken you under his wing and now you live with him in an apartment Red Leader has for him. All of Red's most important people have their own apartment-type rooms. Vlahd's is built with a living room, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and an entire ass library. Your room is right across from Vlahds. You have to do chores in your and Vlahd's apartment as well, but it's a small price to pay for a roof over your head and a non-toxic father figure.

"Y/n, ужины готовы (Y/n, dinner's ready)." Vlahd calls from the kitchen, you get up from your desk and decide to finish your studies later. You walk into the kitchen and see a big pot on the stove, whenever that big pot comes out, you know he's making borscht. You celebrate in silence and take a bowl from the cupboard. You spoon some borscht into your bowl, then you proceed to the dinning room table to sit with Vlahd. A little tradition you both started to do to make tou more comfortable around him. "So, how was your day?" You ask, to get a conversation going. "Все было хорошо, а как насчет твоего (It was okay, what about yours?)?" "Mine was pretty good." You say, spooning some borscht into your mouth.

"О, между прочим, Красный Лидер хочет, чтобы я нашел солдата, который недавно ушел из МВД. Так что завтра тебе не нужно тренироваться или учиться, у тебя выходной (Oh, by the way, Red Leader wants me to go find a soldier who has gone MIA recently. So you don't have to do any training or studies tomorrow, you have the day off.)." Vlahd finishes. You nod your head in understanding. "Who do you have to find?" It was often that soldiers went MIA to try and get out of the army and Red Leader's deal. Red is a ruthless man. "Мэтт, я думаю, его зовут (Matt, I think his name is)."

A small 'ohhhhh' left your mouth. Vlahd has had problems with this soldier before. He was not following orders, so Vlahd was ordered to contain him with any force necessary. That didn't go so well. Apparently, another person with Matt turned into a fucking horned beast and sent Vlahd to the medical wing for two weeks. He had broken two of Vlahds ribs and broke his leg. Finishing up your borscht, you bid Vlahd a goodnight, put your bowl and spoon in the sink, and return back to your room to finish your studies before you go to bed.

You awake to your alarm beeping at you. Sighing, you begrudgingly get up and put on your uniform and proceed to role call . After that, you take off your uniform and pick out your clothes for the day. If you're off duty, you don't have to wear your uniform. You pull out a f/c sweater and a pair of black jeans. You get dressed and go to the bathroom, Vlahd has already left, so you have the bathroom all to yourself. You take a shower and proceed with your morning routine. After you're done, you decide to make yourself some toast and have a nice cup of coffee. After you finish your breakfast, you clean up the kitchen and bathroom out of boredom. You pull out your phone and check the time. The digital screen reads 10:36 am, you groan out of boredom. Then, a wonderful idea popped into your head, you decided to take a walk off base.

You made sure to write a note for Vlahd and stuck it on the fridge if he returns before you're back. You also ask Red Leader if it's okay. He said that it was, so you go ahead and take a secret trail off base and into a huge, lush forrest. You stick in some earbuds and continue to walk into the forrest. From this trail, there is a small town on the other side. Usually when the base runs low on food, plates, utensils, etc, there is a store where you can buy things in bulk for cheap. You also know of a small café where you like to get drinks, they have really good tea and coffee. You arrive at Le Café de Campagne and enter. You order your favorite drink off the menu. You pay and sit down at the cute tables. The café was heavily inspired by France, with relatively French architecture and design.

Cute glass tables and tall chairs are scattered around the small café, a gorgeous mural is painted on the back wall near the counter and cash register. The mural depicts a beautiful countryside with a small cottage to the left behind a field of yellow and pink flowers. In the background, snowy-topped mountains and another cottage sit beautifully. The baby blue sky and fluffy clouds pull the entire piece together. Cute black vases hold pink and yellow tulips along with napkins, salt, and pepper. A display counter with delectable sweets ranging from Macaroons to Tarte Tatin sit in the window, ready to be eaten. On top of the display counter sits a miniature Eiffel Tower, and a bunch of other mini versions of popular tourist attractions such as the Louvre and the Notre Dame cathedral. The people who work there are pretty cool as well. You know most if the people that work there, such as Andrea. She's been working at the café since it opened three years ago. She's easily one of the sweetest people you've ever met.

"Y/n, you're order is ready!" Andrea's sweet voice calls to you. "Thank you so much, have a good day Andrea!" "You too Y/n!" She calls as you walk out the door. You continue to stroll through the tiny town, looking into windows of small shops. You stop in front of a small thrift store, you decide to look around. You start in the CD and DVD section. You found a CD of your favorite band, and a Smash Mouth CD, both for lest than a euro. Obviously, you decide to buy them. You go looking around in the long sleeve shirt section. You pulled out a cute blue-grey sweater that says "Big Dick Energy" on it in bold letters, as if it were school apparel. You look at the tag, it's your size and only five euros. You take that with you as well. Moving across to the pants section, you find a cute pair of high waisted black ripped jeans. They're your size and only seven euros, so you take it. You bring your items up to the cashier, you pay, then you leave.

You decide to walk more into the forest. You take a short cut through an alleyway between the thrift store and a small bank. You push past a few stray branches and step over some shrubbery. You walk along a naturally formed pathway, admiring the beauty of the nature around you. You keep walking until you feel a droplet of rain fall on your forehead, then a couple more. You take cover underneath a tree as rain pours from the sky. You slide your small f/c backpack off of your shoulders and pull out a travel sized sketchbook and a pencil case full of pencils and pens. You take out a graphite pencil and begin to sketch out some scenery infront of you. Rows upon rows of tall oak trees sit infront of you, along with a line of small bushes keeping the trees from growing onto that pathway. The dirt pathway is damp with rain water, some weeds and flowers have managed to grow through the pathway.

After you're done, you marvel at your sketch, you're definitely putting this on your wall later. You pack up your sketchbook and utensils. You also manage to fit your new thrifted items into your bag as well. You pick up the cup that houses the few drops left of your drink from the café. You quickly make it back to town and find a garbage can to throw the cup away. The rain is still coming down hard, and it's getting dark out. You pull out your phone and check the time. Your digital screen reads 16:57 (4:57 pm). You slip your phone back into the pocket of your jeans and hurriedly walk back to base. Almost slipping in mud a few times, you make it back to base. Once you enter your and Vlahd's apartment, You speed walk to your room and peel off your soaking wet clothes. You enter the bathroom and toss your clothes into the washer to clean them.

Slipping on the clothes you bought, you put away your CDs, wallet, sketchbook, and pencil case. You flop on your bed, now bored. You decide to re-read your favorite book, you haven't read it in a while. In the middle of you reading your book, you got a text from Vlahd. 'Подойдите к входу в большую базу, это срочно (Come to the big entrance, it's urgent.' The text reads, you respond with an 'okay'. You throw another pair of shows on that aren't soaking wet and speed walk to the big entrance in the base. That entrance is usually used for big shipments of cargo, you wonder what could have happened. Anxiety begins to catch up with you and so many negative thoughts run wild in your head. Your speed walking turns into a jog, which turns into a run, which turns into a sprint. You're dodging soldiers as you sprint down to the big entrance.

"Sargent Major Vlahd!" One of the nurses says in shock. You turn the corner just in time to see Vlahd, kneeled over. Your eyes begin to well up with tears. He's covered in blood, parts of his uniform are gone and replaced with huge gashes, his left arm is completely gone. He looks up at you, he sees you almost in tears, he tries to stand back up, but one of the nurses grabs his arm. "Take him to the infirmary, stat!" She says, trying to hustle him past the crowd that formed behind the nurses. Everyone is talking around you, can't hear anything though because of how shocked and overwhelmed you are. Vlahd tries to say something to you, but he's in so much pain that he cant speak. You have people step aside so the nurses can get through to make it to the infirmary in time.

You follow them to the medical wing, you try to follow them into the infirmary, but they won't let you. That's kind of understandable though, considering he needs emergency surgery to fix his arm, or what he has left of his arm. You see him through the infirmary window. Making eye contact with you, he gives you a weak smile before passing out from blood loss. You decide it's best to go back to your apartment, and wait it out. One of the nurses gave you her number to get updates on how Vlahd is doing. She knows how close you are with him, she could tell by the look in your eyes that you were devastated when he came back. You enter the apartment and go straight to your room.

You can't help but cry. You lost one of your father figures and you sure as hell aren't going to lose another one. In the middle of you sobbing, you get a text from the nurse, saying that Vlahds surgery was successful. He's going to have to stay in the infirmary for two to three weeks, but he's going to recover. You start sobbing harder out of pure joy. You hadn't even realized that you've been sobbing for almost two hours straight. The clock on your phone reads '20:37' (8:37 pm). You quickly go out to the kitchen and heat up some leftover borscht from last night. After you finish dinner, you go to bed. All of that crying made you exhausted.

Waking up was a but hard today, but you knew if you didn't show up for role call, Red Leader would be upset. Nobody want's to upset Red, he's terrifying when he's angry. So, you begrudgingly get up and grab an extra uniform you have. Walking into the bathroom, you remember about your clothes from last night. You take them and shove them in the dryer. You do your morning routine and then throw on your uniform half hazardly in a rush to get to role call. Making it to the role call room a bit early, you check your schedule for today. You have patrol with Paul today and that's it. Patrol is just you and Paul standing outside if the bases main entrance to make sure no one comes that isn't expected. Usually these are six hour shifts, but you only have to do four today. Thankfully its only a four hour shift today, you don't think you're mentally well enough to stay for six.

After role call, you met Paul by the main entrance of the base. You two greeted each other, then stayed silent. Until Paul spoke up, "I'm so sorry kiddo. I know this can be very stressful, especially when someone you're close to gets severely injured. It's really not fair what happened to him. Hopefully, he'll recover soon and things will go back to some sort of normality." You pull Paul into a tight hug. A few tears slip out of your tired eyes.You haven't had the time to really process this information. Now that you are on patrol, you can kinda marinate in your thoughts. You pull away from Paul's embrace, "Thank you Paul, I really needed that." You sigh, wiping away the tears that stuck to your flushed cheeks.

After Patrol, you go back to your apartment and change. You change into the Maroon sweater and jeans that are in the dryer. Before you head to the infirmary, you text the nurse to see if Vlahd is awake. Vlahd is a stong man, so the nurses and doctors had to use a lot of anesthesia to keep him unconscious during surgery. The nurse said he was awake, just a bit groggy. You thank the nurse and haul ass to the infirmary. You arrive at medical wing. The medical wing is confusing as hell to navigate. Its three floors, one is where the receptionist desk is, the waiting room, and all the machines like the x-rays, the cat scans, etc. The second one is used for less severe injuries, the third one is used for intensive care. Vlahd is on floor three, room number 108.

"Hello honey, what brings you to the medical wing today?" The receptionist asks in a heavy Jersey accent. "Hello, I'm here to visit Sargent Major Vlahd." The receptionist nods and types something on her keyboard. "Oh! You're Y/n, correct?" You nod. "Okay, sign this out for me please and write your name on this." She hands you a clipboard with a piece of paper you had to fill out in order to visit someone in intensive care. She also hands you a visitor pass that you stick on your shirt. Kind of like a name tag. You fill out the paperwork and pads, then you put the visitors pass on your sweater. You give the paperwork back to the nurse. "Alright sweetie, you know where Vlahd's room is right?" You nod. "Okay, have a good one!" "You too miss." You respond to the receptionist.

You impatiently ride the elevator up to floor three. As soon as the elevator opens, you speed walk to Vlahds room. Knocking on the door, you wait for permission to enter the room. "You can come in hon." The nurse says from the other side of the door. Proceeding to enter the room, all your attention goes to Vlahd. He looks miserable. "I'll leave you twonalone for a while, just hit the bed alarm if you need me." The nurse says then leaves the room. As soon as the nurse leaves the room. You sit down next to him, and try to hold in your tears. You dont want to overwhelm him more than he probably already is. Vlahd tries to sit up, but you try to make him lay down again, he can't be straining this much. Although, considering Vlahd is a powerhouse of strength, you didn't get very far.

Instead, you gave up on fighting against him. Surprisingly, Vlahd pulls you into a tight hug. "Все в порядке, дорогая, все будет в порядке (It's okay honey, it'll all be okay.)." You broke down once again, sobbing into Vlahd's shoulder. You unknowingly grabbed fistfuls of his gown. "P-please don't ever leave me, I can't handle this, please d-don't ever leave me dad-" you cut yourself off has soon as 'dad' left your mouth. "I'm so sorry Vlahd, I-I didn't mean to- " "Y/n." Vlahd silences you. "Все в порядке. Я горжусь тем, что являюсь твоим отцом. Ты чертовски ребенок (It's okay. I'm proud to be your father figure. You're one hell of a kid.)." Vlahd states, you hug him once again.

"Thanks, dad."

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for giving me all the stubbly men

In the Offing

Chapter 17 — Hat Trick

Summary: In which our heroine believes in magic

Chapter 17 on AO3

“When you move

I can recall something that’s gone from me

When you move

Honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free”

-Movement, Hozier

It had been a rainy couple of days since her trip out to the cabin with Graham. They had originally planned to meet up again and scan the area to see if they could find the Blanchard remains but the weather had prevented any chance of that. Instead, they had traded texts that included her thanking him for going on record with the paper to say she was no longer a suspect in the shooting. She had noticed a definite warming toward her by the citizens after his comments were splashed across the front page.

Of course it being Storybrooke, rumors had already begun to fly about who would take her place on the most wanted list. She avoided all requests for interviews and tried to focus on the task of finding the responsible party, encouraged every day by the positive news she received from August’s medical team.

Graham wasn’t the only one she had been texting with. As the date of the wedding drew closer, she started receiving messages from Elsa and her sister Anna, who happened to be a ball of chaotic energy that would put a toddler to shame. They were constantly inviting her over to help with this or that stage of the planning but she thought maybe it was really to make sure she didn’t disappear before the ceremony.

It seemed like the only person she hadn’t talked with was the one person to whom she actually had something to say. However, fulfilling his duties as best man had forced Killian into a last minute trip to Boston with Liam to pick up tuxedos and flowers arrangements. She had stopped by the cottage a couple of times to try to catch him, feeling that what she had to say would be better in person than by phone, but she never managed to connect.

So it was that Saturday evening under a clear twilight sky, she pulled up to the cottage. Nervously she ran her hands down her pale pink dress to smooth it as she tried not to think about the fact that she hadn’t spoken with Killian since she hung up on him several days ago. The front yard, which stretched down in a gentle rolling hill to a bluff that provided a beautiful ocean view, was transformed. There were a couple of large, white tents set up to accommodate the ceremony and the reception. Due to the heavy rain, someone had the forethought to have planking laid down in a walkway to the tents, which had also been raised on platforms and contained a beautiful hardwood floor to provide some protection from the wet ground.

As Liam had predicted, it appeared as though the entire town did show up. Waving at several people who caught her eye, she started to make her way over to Mary Margaret and David. Taking in the way their gazes never wavered from each other, she guessed that their wedding day wouldn’t be too far behind. Before she could reach them, Anna came flying over to her nearly vibrating with excitement. “Where are you going? I saved you a seat in the front row next to Kristoff.”

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary,” she protested. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by sitting in a row normally reserved for family. Plus, if she was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure she could take being in close proximity to Killian while he was sporting a tux. The man oozed sexual magnetism in jeans so one could only imagine the allure of him in formalwear. She didn’t need a repeat of the kitchen debacle from a couple of weeks ago while the whole town was watching.

“Emma,” Anna whined with a pouty expression. “Do you see how empty the family section is? It’s embarrassing. Not to mention that Kristoff might fall asleep if you aren’t there to nudge him from time to time.”

“Fine.” She gave in easily when she sensed eyes drifting their way in curiosity. Trying to take her mind off the fact she felt like an animal in a zoo, she smiled at the other woman and said, “You look great.”

As Emma took her seat, Anna twirled in a circle and squealed, “I do, don’t I? This has always been a good color on me. I’m so glad we talked Elsa out of the all that ice blue. I mean, it’s a summer wedding. We need bold colors and lots of skin.”

“You will hear no arguments from me, babe,” Kristoff joked with a wink. As she was finding to be the case with the young couple, once they were honed in on each other she could do as she pleased because they were oblivious. Trapped by the puppy love playing out in front of her, she used the opportunity to study the lovely white roses and low lighting that showcased the tent to its best advantage. She couldn’t help but wonder how they had pulled off such an elaborate event with only days to plan.

Any thoughts she had about price tags and logistics were immediately frozen when she saw Liam and Killian step onto the stage about twenty feet in front of her. The Brothers Jones looked quite dapper and refined in their black tuxedos. Liam was calm and collected as always except for the faint hint of red across his cheeks, not even having one arm in a sling could diminish the happiness that radiated off him. Killian looked like a fantasy wrapped in a dream and dipped in chocolate.

Unfortunately, as she was feasting on him with her eyes he must have become aware of her idolizing stare. His penetrating blue gaze met hers full on for the first time in almost a week. Her heart beat out a painful thump at the emotion that flooded her but she couldn’t look away. He was perfect, from the top of his rumpled hair to the bottom of his precisely polished dress shoes. And she was an idiot.

“Geez, girl. Am I going to have to get you two a room so you don’t burn down the tent?”Startled out of her staring contest by Anna’s teasing, she looked over to see her companions watching her with matching grins. “Elsa mentioned there was something going on but she didn’t warn me that it was combustible.”

“Cute,” Emma said in tone that warned against further commentary. “Speaking of Elsa, shouldn’t you be helping your sister get ready?”

“Oh crap! I was supposed to be grabbing her a glass of water. See you guys later!”

For the next several minutes, Emma did her best to keep her gaze from wandering back to the stage even as she felt Killian’s eyes burning a hole through her. Kristoff was helpful in that regard because he was as much of a talker as his girlfriend, although in comparison he was still the shrinking violet in their relationship. The hum of conversations increased as the tent filled until the opening strains of the Wedding March began to play. As everyone stood to see the bride enter, she snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye and smiled shyly when she saw that Killian was staring back at her.

To no one’s surprise, Elsa made a beautiful bride. Her white blonde hair was styled in a complicated braid that looked soft and elegant. Her slender form was hugged by a white lace gown that looked fit for a queen. It was her serene expression that truly made her a beauty though. She had the look of a woman who couldn’t wait to start her future with the man waiting for her at the other end of the aisle.

Just like that, Emma felt tears forming. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one. There were several sniffles and weepy smiles in the tent as the pair shared their vows and promised to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Liam’s deep voice never faltered and when the minister pronounced them man and wife, he didn’t hesitate to kiss Elsa soundly in front of God and everyone. And for rather longer than strictly necessary.

Laughter ringing out at the groom’s enthusiasm, the crowd began clapping as the newly married couple led the way to the reception. They were followed by the best man and maid of honor, whose heads were bent together as if they were plotting to overthrow the government. Knowing the two of them, Emma couldn’t completely rule out the possibility.

Kristoff offered her his arm to guide her into the other tent but she waved him on. She needed some time to collect herself so she continued to observe from the fringe of the crowd. The first dance was a slow romantic matter replete with loving glances and sighs. The cutting of the cake was a dignified event regardless of the taunting of some of the more rowdy members of the audience. As the band struck up a new song, couples started making their way to the dance floor. She was pleased to see Mary Margaret and David were one of the first to go, smiling at each other with the kind of fondness that would never fade.

Trying to calm her racing heart, she knew she had put off her conversation long enough. As she stepped out of the shadows, she heard a familiar voice ask, “May I have this dance, Emma?”

Shocked out of her anxiousness, she turned to find Graham standing behind her with his hand extended. He looked striking in his suit, she had to admit. Not fantasy dream chocolate level, of course, but not hard on the eyes. Putting her hand in his, she allowed him to lead her out to the floor. “I’m surprised to see you here, Sheriff. Didn’t you used to date the bride?”

Cringing a bit and screwing up his face, he looked at her through one eye. “There’s that adorable directness. It was one date, a rather hopeless affair I’m afraid.”

“Oh well, there are other fish in the sea,” she murmured encouragingly, a little concerned at the longing she saw in his stare when he looked at her. He shuffled her around the edge of the dance floor, his eyes searching hers for something.

“There is one fish that I have an interest in,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I might be a little too late to catch her.”

With regret for the hurt her next words would cause him because somewhere along the way she had come to really like him, she confirmed, “Yes, I think you might be.”

Nodding with understanding, he shifted his glance to the front of the tent where the wedding party was currently enjoying dinner. With a rueful smile, he commented, “I’m guessing by the daggers that Killian is currently shooting my way that I have been bested by another Jones.”

Touching his cheek gently to bring his attention back to her, she teased, “Third time is the charm, my friend. To my knowledge, there aren’t any other brothers to contend with. Go forth with confidence and find yourself a lady worthy of you.”

Graham smiled down at her. The song ended but he held her an extra second, squeezing her waist affectionately before stepping back. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and swept a soft kiss near her wrist while looking at her with eyes full of laughter. “Let’s see if that brings your erstwhile suitor running.”

Shaking her head at him, she grinned at his back as he disappeared into the crowd. She started toward an empty chair a couple of tables away when she felt someone approach from behind. She knew without turning that it was Killian. The air around her electrified when he got near.

“Swan, where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to sit down and enjoy dinner, Dr. Jones. What brings you by?”

“I want to dance with you,” he stated, his gaze roaming over her like a caress. Holding out his hand, he continued, “You have the rest of your life to avoid me, love. Where’s the harm in one dance with a partner who actually knows what he’s doing?”

He really had no idea of the hold he had over her. He was still under the impression she planned to walk away. Yet there he was, reaching out to her as if her touch wouldn’t leave bruises. He may be the bravest man she ever met.

“I think I’m willing to risk it,” she whispered huskily as she eased into his arms. It was like coming home.

—

The night passed in a blur of champagne and dancing. Once Killian had her in his arms, he seemed loath to let her go, to the point of glowering at any man who approached. He did allow Liam a dance, and David and Kristoff grudgingly, but he always returned to her side as the final notes of the song played and pulled her into his arms again.

“I thought I agreed to one dance,” she teased, bracing herself one-handed on his shoulder as she tugged off her right shoe and massaged her foot. It was after midnight and the crowd had started to thin now that Liam and Elsa had run through a minefield of bubbles to the limousine that waited to take them to New York City for a mini-honeymoon. “I’m not sure my feet are going to recover.”

“Darling, if you can run down skips in stilettos a couple of dances with your many admirers shouldn’t be a problem,” he pointed out, dragging her out to the dance floor again. Willing to pay any price to continue to be this close to him, she plucked off her other shoe and tossed it gently under a nearby table. He abandoned his normal poise, wrapping his arms around her back and settling her against him in what amounted to little more than a hug. The world faded away as she rested her cheek against his chest.

The slow, romantic song continued to play in the background and he hummed the words as he swayed them gently in time to the music. She felt a tingle start at the base of her spine and work its way through her entire body. She didn’t even bother moving apart to say goodbye to Mary Margaret or Anna when they passed by to let them know they were leaving. When the band started to pack up and the caterers were tearing down tables, she observed quietly against his collar, “I think I ate too much cake.”

“You speak of the impossible,” he murmured into her hair.

“Killian,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, love?”

“Will you take me home?”

Tightening his grip a bit, he answered, “Of course, Swan, but I let Kristoff and Anna borrow my truck so we’ll have to take your car. Where are your keys?”

“No,” she replied with a smile up at him. “To the cottage.”

Eyes widening in understanding, he asked, “Are you sure? There will be no coming back from this. No more running away, no more secrets. There’ll be no getting rid of me.” He waited patiently, his face inches from hers. She thought she detected the hint of a smile forming.

“I’m ready if you are,” she promised as she went up on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

With a predatory grin, he deepened the kiss and before she knew what he was about, she was upended over his shoulder with her eyes having a very nice view of his lower back and beyond. “Let’s sail away, love.”

Shrieking over his laughter, she asked, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I can’t have you trudging through the mud and muck in your bare feet, Swan,” he explained with a fond pat on her bottom. She felt him glide through the tent and buried her face in her hands when she heard him say good night to several of the staff as they passed by.

“And you couldn’t carry me like a normal person?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Too caught up in muttering promises of revenge, she didn’t realize they were at the porch until he gently lowered her to the floor. “There you are, my lady. Safe passage to the front door.”

They were eye level with each other since he was standing on the stair below her. The blue gleam of his gaze was unearthly. His mouth was curved in a playful smile but she could tell he was nervous. She thought he was probably afraid she would run again and realized that he stopped there for a reason, as if he wanted her to commit to this and move inside on her own two feet. Taking his face in her hands, she stared at him and hoped he could see everything she was feeling. “I’m sorry. For a lot of things, really. Most of all, I’m sorry if I made you doubt me, doubt this. I’ve wanted you since before we even met.”

“I never doubted you, Swan. Not for a moment. But you are an impossible woman sometimes,” he whispered, twisting his face to press his lips to her palm.

Stepping away from him, she reached out and let her hand trail slowly down his chest. With a saucy smile, she opened the door and backed into the living room. To her surprise, he didn’t trip over himself trying to get to her, rather he followed her inside and braced against the closed door, seemingly content to drink in the sight of her.

“I’ve dreamed of you every night since you left,” he admitted, hunger in his voice. “There were times I nearly got in my truck and drove to the loft.”

At this, he moved closer. His eyes never wavered from hers. She felt as though she had lost the ability to speak. He was the only person who could do this to her with nothing more than a look. He was standing so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the champagne on his breath but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he leaned in and murmured, “Tell me, love, would you have let me in?”

When she did nothing but shiver, he continued, “If I had gotten down on my knees and begged, would you have opened your door?”

His lips skimmed softly over her cheeks, then forehead, then her chin. Fleeting caresses that felt like gossamer against her heated skin. “If I had promised to be your devoted subject and do your bidding always, would you have allowed me to share your bed?”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you took your time,” she teased, her head light with desire. She had never felt like this before, this swirling, chaotic emotion that caused her to tremble. “Please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Seal the deal,” she joked weakly, biting her bottom lip as she fought against the force of the passion that rocked her.

“You do have a way with words,” he teased. “I’m afraid the deal was sealed the minute we laid eyes on each other. Perhaps even before then. Fate hasn’t always been kind to me, love, but I’ll pay whatever price is needed a thousand times over to ensure that for the rest of our lives you continue to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

With a whimper, she gave in to temptation and closed the distance between them. The magic he weaved with his honeyed tone and bewitching words was nothing compared to how it felt when he reached down to pick her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Without breaking their kiss, he carried her to the bedroom where he proceeded to show her how much he meant every single thing he said.

—

They didn’t leave the cottage for two days and she was certain there was not a surface that wasn’t put to good use during that time. It was as if the outside world no longer existed and Emma was happily ensconced in some odd alternative universe where she was content and loved.

Eventually she emerged long enough to let Mary Margaret know she was still alive, to chat with Henry, to check in on August, and to cancel search plans with Graham. She knew sooner or later she would have to go back to the loft to collect her things if nothing else. Luckily, her slovenly ways and hasty exit from the cottage after their fight had proved useful in one regard. She had left enough of her belongings behind that she wasn’t walking around in her wedding outfit the whole time. It had done strange things to her heart to realize that he had collected all the clothes she left after their argument and neatly folded them, placing them in the top drawer of his bureau.

She noticed other signs of him making room for her in his life and, beyond that, making her feel welcome. Her preferred coffee cup was always clean and ready for her each morning. He had stocked her favorite shampoo in the shower, although how he knew it was her favorite when she never mentioned it she was still trying to figure out. He had added a couple of books to his shelves for her after a late night conversation about classics she had never had the chance to read.

Even when she had left, even when she had pushed him away, he hadn’t retreated. Not entirely. He had merely given her space to figure out what he had probably know all along...that they were good together and that needing someone wasn’t something to be feared.

So it was with some chagrin that she awoke Tuesday morning to find the bed empty. The quiet of the cottage was like a slap in the face after several blissful days of being adored. Even knowing he had to drop Anna and Kristoff off at the airport before meeting a client that morning at the marina, she was still surprised at how lonely it was. She, the woman who prided herself on her independence and self-reliance, was pining for a man after a mere five hours apart.

The wizardry of Killian Jones was limitless.

Looking over at the clock, she realized that yearning was all well and good but breakfast would be better. Taking her time to get showered and dressed, she walked out to the kitchen island to find a vase full of yellow flowers, a package of strawberry poptarts, and a note from her—whatever Killian was to her now—inviting her to join him at the marina when she woke up.

Grabbing a cup of cold coffee to go and the breakfast he left her, she ventured outside for the first time in days to find the sun shining brightly and the temperature pleasantly warm. She hastily ate her breakfast one-handed while driving to the marina with the windows rolled down. There was absolutely no traffic on the road and she pulled into the parking lot convinced that she was the only living soul in the area. Locking her car, she made her way to the last dock where the pirate ship was moored passing only one person on the way, a strikingly familiar redhead that caused her to do a double take.

Staring after the woman, she heard Killian shout. “Swan! I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

Dragging her eyes away from the retreating figure, she faced the man who was responsible for the increasingly frequent smile to be found on her lips. “Never, Dr. Jones.” Climbing aboard, she gave him a quick kiss that he seemed to take as a challenge to extend. “Was that—“

“Ariel?” Killian continued to pepper her face with sweet kisses as if supremely unconcerned that there was a Hollywood starlet wandering around the docks. “Yes, she was the client I was meeting with this morning. The studio sent her to be briefed on pirate lore. I had intended to introduce you but my little Sleeping Beauty couldn’t be bothered to roll out of bed at a decent hour.”

Snickering because they both knew why she needed the extra sleep, she allowed him to pull her into the Captain’s Quarters and promptly make her forget her own name.