#so when i got past that clearing and figured the descent would start only to see the falls were the fucking prologue

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

[cookinguptales]

I will say that I've been lying down quite a bit the past few days just because uh. Strong dislocation risk.

So, to please tumblr, I've started listening to Malevolent. Podcasts are an okay way to stay sane when you can't move much, lmao.

Thoughts so far under a cut, because to my knowledge, only two of you care about this lmao.

So far... I'll admit my feelings are mixed. I'm a couple episodes into the second season, I think, and... well, I still don't care much for cosmic horror or creature features. I'll admit it's just kind of a style of horror that I find a little boring. Every time they start describing the new monster or Lovecraftian cult or cosmic horror, I'll admit that my eyes glaze over a bit.

So uh. With the caveat that the actual plot is not doing that much for me at all, I'm not like... okay, if I were on my own I probably would've tuned out by now. lmao. But I'm not, so I'm pulling steadily through. I don't hate it or anything. That said, it does struggle from some of the same pitfalls as other indie horror podcasts, and I do think it's worsened a bit by the creator trying to do everything himself here.

I especially wish that he had not decided to do every voice himself, because as someone with hearing difficulties, it makes it really hellish to figure out what's going on sometimes. lmao. I usually rely on really distinct voices to tell people apart in podcasts, and I mean. That's not a thing here. Moreover, because he often tries to disguise his voice with accents or digital effects... well, that does not always make the voicework easy to understand. I've had to rely kind of heavily on the transcripts, so thank god they're there.

While I think he does have writing strengths and weaknesses (it's... not always easy to keep track of what's going on) I am interested to see where the characters go. I'm not... quite sure I follow the logic for why John gained selfhood while Arthur was in a coma, but I'm willing to just go with it. I do kind of wish that we were working with a somewhat expanded timeline, though... I think at times it's like "HE'S GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO HIS FACE..." and I'm like "sir, it's been like 48 hours." But. You know. Again, I'll just go with it.

I am intrigued by the idea of writing a pairing inhabiting the same body (and......... it would not be the first time, if I'm being entirely honest) and I think that's kind of what's got me holding on lmao. I do also like the concept of a creature struggling against his old self in a very literal way. That sort of bid for earned humanity is always interesting to me, though I'll admit I haven't listened to enough of s2 to have thoughts on how it's playing out.

So every time I'm like "oh... okay... they're being chased by a monster again..." I just tell myself "yes, but you might get to write something very weird and fucked up" and that does help.

To be clear, I'm not saying the style of horror here is necessarily a bad thing. It gives old radio serial vibes sometimes, like they're gonna have to fight the eldritch ghost pirates with Little Orphan Annie or something, and I'm sure some people enjoy that very much. It's just a style of horror that I tend to bounce off of even in other types of media. (Like I am still firmly of the opinion that The Descent was scarier before the monsters showed up.) I suppose I just feel more strongly affected by horror that's more like... just kind of unsettling and uncanny and spooky. The monster-y action stuff does less for me personally. Like.. I'm not worried about Shub-Niggurath showing up in my apartment, frankly. I'm just like "yeah but that's not real."

Spooky, uncanny, very personal horror that is just disquietingly close enough to a reality that can't quite be explained is more my style, I think. I'm realizing that as I listen to this podcast.

Other things I've thought to myself while listening to this podcast:

SHUB-NIGGURATH IS A GIRL. It was even in that book they read out loud in the first episode. But John and Arthur keep calling her "he" and I'm like "that's sexist, women can be unfathomable eldritch beasts TOO. god forbid women do ANYTHING."

me, halfway through the second episode of s2: sir are you going to make us wander through the entirety of dante's inferno or just the seventh circle? because that was a very long book?? we've already done the violet/blood-red lake, self-harm woods, the burning plain, and the cliff, and I'm a little worried about that allusion to ice at the bottom! I don't want to go all the way down, lmao.

the first time they mentioned the king in yellow I immediately imagined the man in the yellow hat and I am so sorry but I still keep thinking of him. and also occasionally this man. it kind of... makes him less scary...

it's truly embarrassing how much it drove me crazy until I remembered that song at the beginning of episode 10 was "stardust" lmao. which... I suppose is probably some kind of cosmic horror pun...

I know that I was supposed to be really horrified when John took control over Arthur's hand but literally all I thought was "oh, I'm sure the fandom has made good use of that."

like I was in marvel comics fandom for years before the movies came out, I am well acquainted with monsterfucking fic.

look I'm not here to criticize you, john, but your other half seems to be running a really inefficient cult here.

how did you guys not notice the wraith following you for like six episodes. that one really seemed to come out of nowhere. like... did she hitchhike with them?? go in the caves with them?? swim behind the boat?? or was she just like psychically watching them and then teleported???? I am literally so confused about the wraith thing. I get that they wanted Arthur's kindness towards a "monster" to save him later, I get the themes and motifs here, and I get that they needed a deus ex machina, but I'm so confused about the actual mechanics of that save. it didn't help that I thought that "free her" meant like... free her spirit so she wouldn't be a wraith anymore and she could move on or something. so I had a very confusing moment like "wait, that thing is still alive??" lmao

so... anyway, yeah, I'm just kinda. hangin' on. haha. I'm here for the monsterfucking more than I am for the monster fighting, being honest with you. the monster mash more than the monster bash, if you will. but I am willing to be patient with the parts of the podcast that don't do as much for me to get more character work. hopeful on that point.

[irresistiibles]

was that vanessa kirby? oh no no, that was just katya goncharova, a canon character from goncharov (1973). they are thirty years old, use she/her, and are aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.  

so before i get started here is my little disclaimer: though i will be talking in my intro as if goncharov (1973) is a real movie it absolutely is not. i think there’s still definitely argument for it still being a real fandom, a sort of collaborative cross-media fandom, but it is not a movie that actually exists. i know it can be stressful when people are saying something is real as a joke and you can’t tell whether or not it’s a joke, so i want to get that out of the way early. i will be tagging all of her content with unreality tw just to make that as clear as possible. despite that please know i’m playing katya very genuinely, i have built up a lot of muse for her over the past few days, so please definitely come and plot with me! and join maig and i in the madness. i will happily link you to goncharov information so!! please!!

how long has your character been here

around a month

what is your character’s job

still figuring it out. i’m going to say she showed up with some money from home but katya doesn’t want to get involved in crime again but also doesn’t want to change her spending habits, and funds will run out, so it’s a race against the clock (an important motif through the whole movie and a face that no one wins)

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

from the end after faking her death

has any magic affected your character

nope!

any other info!

born katya michailova, katya was orphaned at a young age along with her brother. 

she had a brief stint in an orphanage, but wound up on the streets not longer after when a fire burned the place down. this is also where she met sofia, who helped get her out of the fire alive

katya was a teenager on the streets, and there are really only a few ways to survive a situation like that. though she was surrounded by crime it wasn’t something she really wanted to be a part of, especially since she was sure it was what got her father killed. she winds up involved anyway, but tries not to let herself be involved too heavily, keeping to spy and drug work and avoiding violence

this is also where she meets goncharov, which gives her a realization. marrying someone with money was an alternative escape and so katya michailova becomes katya goncharova.

they have a complicated relationship. i would say katya loved her husband but was never in love with him. she liked him, and was loyal to him. and she played the part of wife well, but as much as she had what she wanted there was also the sense that she wasn’t her own person, just goncharov’s wife. she stilled loved him though

but he was always involved in crime as much as she wanted him to leave. they had money now. she had all the pieces to a stable comfortable life if they could just separate themselves from the mob, but goncharov never would

sofia would have left with her. katya knew this, like sofia could have possibly been more obvious about it, but that didn’t feel stable! katya wanted stable! and again, as much as she knew they were falling apart she couldn’t bring herself to leave goncharov

obsessed with the scene where she gives sofia her pearls!! obviously the dinner scene is way more about goncharov and andrey so we don’t get a lot out of sofia and katya there, but the way katya takes her wealth (her happiness and stability) and hands a piece of it over to sofia!! so telling

her descent from housewife really begins when she gets shot and nearly drowns. katya doesn’t see herself with another choice, and gets absorbed into more of the crime, desperate to keep herself and the people she cares about alive. 

i think it’s really clear she’s in over her head with it though, and she winds up fucking over nearly everyone she cares about in the process, as well as just physically hurting others. they want this to look like she’s a woman isn’t smart enough for that world but katya absolutely is! at this point she had just fallen too far and wasn’t thinking about the consequences, didn’t feel like she cared anymore.

she eventually betrays goncharov towards the end of the movie and shoots him, but it isn’t anywhere fatal. this is where the iconic line of “If we really were in love, you wouldn’t have missed.” comes from.  i don’t think she ever had the actual intention to kill him, but thought that maybe if he wouldn’t leave for her he’d leave for himself, to save his own life. he doesn’t and though he’s injured he would be fine. at this point katya accepts that she’s lost her husband and he’s not going to make it out of all of this alive. even if he did who would be left?

katya ultimately gets killed in the chaos at the end, the big fight necessary for all mafia movies, however we see a familiar blonde making an escape right at the end, and though it’s brief and we don’t see a face i choose to take this as proof that katya survived. i believe she conspired with those going against goncharov, giving them information, or some other type of betral, and in return her death was faked and she escaped

though was it worth it? when she was so adamant about not leaving unless she had someone with her?

here in dc:

she’s trying to convince herself this is a good thing. though the city and technology is odd she’s lucky to be alive at all, alive with a completely fresh start in a city that offers free living space is better than should have ever been possible

she may be paying for a decent place to live despite this i haven’t really decided

and yet she’s struggled being here. it’s so different. she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to behave. katya has been able to thrive by being the person people want to see, and she has to relearn what that is now

really doesn’t want to go back to crime but isn’t sure what else she knows

has thought about getting married for money again but she isn’t sure she could actually go through all of that, especially when things here are so odd and she knows herself well enough to know she’d get attached

is really just doing her best to figure it out without falling into old habits, which is only working so well

going through like a pack of cigarettes a day in her stress

connections:

rich friends: girlie loves opulence. hell, or give me the opposite, of someone less well off that katya is like dressing up for fun she’s annoying like that.

a guide: someone who’s been showing her around washington and explaining modern life to her

bad influence: katya is trying to keep to decent behavior for once but she is so quick to fall out of it. this could be for just silly chaotic stuff or full out crime

any sort of friends: girl gets lonely so fast

[everyonesfavoritepipecleaner]

Equilibrium

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral!Reader

Word Count: 695 - she's a shorty

Genre: hurt/comfort/just me rambling

A/N: Haven't posted a fic in a whileeee so here's a little blurb/excerpt from a series I started that I can't figure out how to wrap up, slightly edited so it can stand alone. Spencer's last line of dialogue is a quote from People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry!! It's an absolute gem of a book if you love the friends to lovers trope like I do 🥰

There are three different types of tears: reflex tears; continuous tears; and emotional tears. Reflex tears help clear debris—like smoke and dust—from your eyes. Continuous tears lubricate our eyes and help protect them from infection. Emotional tears are what you've been crying ever since you got home from your latest case.

You read once that crying is a way to restore emotional equilibrium. Whereas continuous tears contain 98 percent water, emotional tears contain stress hormones and other toxins. Basically, our bodies get so overwhelmed that we have to let that emotion out somehow, and crying acts as our bodies’ way of recovering from experiencing such strong emotion.

So you can’t help but wonder why after almost two hours of this, your emotions still haven’t reached equilibrium. Why instead the wet, bitter sobs have simply morphed into you tearlessly gasping for breath. You bet Spencer would have an explanation.

Spencer.

It’s like his name flips a switch that puts your body on autopilot. You grab your keys from the kitchen counter and pull on your jacket. If there’s any part of your brain telling you that people who are “just friends” don’t show up on each other’s doorsteps unannounced after 2 AM, you're well past the point of being able to listen to it.

Your frantic knocks are what finally draw you out of your haze. Just as your brain catches up to your body and you realize where you are, the door cracks open mid-knock, revealing a sliver of a sleepy and utterly confused Spencer Reid.

“Y/N?” He questions before opening the door fully, taking in your red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks, unsure if you're really there or something out of a dream. Or more likely, you figure, a nightmare with the way you look right now.

“Do you remember when you told me that if this job ever got to be too much, I could always talk to you?” you ask, the words unsteady. He nods and steps aside, gesturing for you to come in and shutting the door softly behind you. When he turns to face you, he gives you a look of such deep compassion and understanding that you feel the walls you've built fracture under its weight. “It’s too much,” you confess as your voice breaks and the tears begin to fall again.

“Hey, hey, come here,” he pulls you into a tight hug and wraps his arms around you, the simple gift of his company soothing your aching soul. It’s the only time you've felt right the past few days. You find that it’s easier to breathe when he’s around, the panic in your chest dulls a little knowing he’s here. Things don’t seem as scary in his presence.

And through your broken sobs and his hand tracing comfortingly down your back, you hear yourself think, “I’m in love with you.”

There’s no fireworks, no fanfare. Just the quiet realization that you've never felt more at home than you do when you're in his arms. You think you've been in love with him for a long time—so long that you can’t pinpoint the exact moment it started.

It’s a thought that terrifies you as much as it thrills you, because when you open yourself up to love, you open yourself up to hurt. You pull away from his embrace and start to wipe your tears away with the back of you hand.

“Spencer, I–“ you feel the telltale warmth of I love you dancing on your tongue, about to slip past your lips. But you force the words back down, throat burning on their descent. You couldn’t stand to lose him, to jeopardize how happy you are with your friendship by saying those three little words if he doesn’t feel the same way.

You feel his honeyed gaze, waiting for you to finish, so you tell him the truth—the palatable part, anyway. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

A contented smile graces his face. “Can I tell you something?” You nod in response and he continues, “I used to be lonely a lot. But I’ve never really felt alone since I met you. I don’t think I’ll ever feel truly alone in this world again as long as you’re in it.”

Your heart catches in your throat, and you bury your face back in his chest to breathe in his familiar scent. Someday the weight of your feelings may become too much to bear. But for now, this is enough.

Taglist: @alexlovescriminalminds @reidsbookclub @notanotherreidgirl @unmitigatedsuperiority

fill this out to be tagged in my future writing!

[misschifuyu]

Hello! Could i request a HCS for izana and the Haitani brothers discovering their s/o is good at fighting, because their s/o save them from a fight? I hope you have a great day, sorry if the request doesn't make sense, my English isn't exactly the best <3

- babes your english is absolutely perfect, and thank you so much for requesting !! i do hope you like it ! ♡

Izana, Ran and Rindou discovering that their s/o is good at fighting

genre: not sure..it isn't really fluff, just simple gang fight things

warnings: violence

Izana

whenever izana got involved in any type of fight, it was usually quite a rough situation. he would only ever get involved with another gang's member if it was truly necessary

the sight was brutal, punches being thrown between the two men as they attempted to knock the other out. other tenjiku members had gathered around the scene, but nobody dared to get involved in the fight of the president

besides, they knew he would only curse them out if they did

you had heard about the fight from a running koko who had passed by you whilst you were walking near the area, heading in the direction of the gang's main gathering point

it didn't take the two of you very long to arrive and, upon seeing the fight that was taking place and who was involved in it, you pushed your way through the crowd of spectators. a challenge, seeing as most of the tenjiku members were quite bulky and didn't even recognise the presence of the prident's partner

the other guy had already taken a fair amount of hits, but it appeared that izana had also received his portion of punches to his body

you didn't doubt his strength, so you remained at the sidelines as the two ran up to each other once more, shouts filling the air as the gang members tried to distract the rival

unfortunately, one of those shouts had been considerably louder than the rest, causing the leader to whip his head around in case it was another member joining in on the brawl

this left a predominantly open window for his opponent, something that rarely ever happened to izana. before he was able to react, a swift leg came into contact with his head, knocking onto the ground instantly

it had most definitely caused a fair amount of damage to him, and when your horrified eyes landed on his almost unconscious body, you weren't able to hold back your running steps towards the bastard who had thrown your boyfriend to the ground

you were stealthy enough to catch him off guard, giving you enough time to bring your arm around and delivering a harsh hit on the guy's throat

both from the force and being stunned at the sudden attack, the taller man lost his balance, eyes rolling up as he hit the ground. you hadn't realised you had hit him that hard, truthfully; but you were glad you had gotten rid of him

as you turned back round towards the injured president, you met his widened eyes as he stared up at you, promptly switching over to look at the fallen man before him

"y/n, I..."

"are you alright?"

you quickly crouched down to check his body for any serious hits, not realising how surprised you had left your boyfriend after that unexpected attack from your behalf

he was more than just impressed. proud was the word he looked for, and he was sure to ask you all about your skills once you got him back home

Ran

ran getting into a fight with another man was a sight that stuck in everyone's mind if they ever witnessed it

be it with his brother or not, he never showed even the smallest ounce of mercy towards his attacker. if they wanted to fight, he was going to make them regret they ever considered doing so

with the aid of his peculiar, metal rod - which nobody actually knew where he got it from in the first place - he never left a brawl on the losing side

he was a haitani brother, after all. he feared nothing and no one, to put it simply

despite all of this, you always grew nervous whenever he went up against someone. sure, he had a strength that topped any other gang members' in the area, but there always stood a chance of a weak moment, a momentary distraction

and it was all you could think about as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. stood beside his younger brother, your eyes followed the rapid movements that were exchanged between the two s62 generation members. it was rare that ran ever encountered someone his age nowadays, so he was giving it his all for the special occasion

unfortunately, you had noticed that his rival was quite skilled in his fighting techniques, and every now and then you had to hold your breath as they threw a punch a little too close to comfort to your boyfriend. it terrified you, to say the least

rindou kept assuring you that you had nothing to worry about, but as you watched ran slowly lose energy to keep up the fast pace, your concerns only grew in size

the last straw was taken when the other man grabbed hold of the metal rod just before it came in contact with his head. surprised at the uncommon act, ran remained still for a split second as the weapon was ripped out of his hands.

unable to take up an offensive stance quick enough to attack, he was greeted with a harsh blow to his gut, causing him to bend over in pain before receiving another hit, this time to his legs

watching him struggling to get back up onto his feet, your heart was practically at your throat. was he able to get back up in time?

upon noticing the opponent's leg lifting up, with the intentions of smashing the haitani brother's head against the ground, you ran towards him as fast as your stamina would allow you

adrenaline kicking in, you reached him just in time to throw a swift punch to his ribcage, halting his next attack as the sound of cracking bones were heard throughout the area

an agonising scream left his mouth as he spotted you just below him. despite his towering height, you had managed to give him a brutal blow; however, you weren't sure what your next move was going to be

luckily, you were pushed out of the way, towards ran, before a leg came in contact with the guy's head. rindou had gotten involved just in time, and soon enough, other members started piling up on the stranger

hand grabbing onto his abdomen, ran was looked up at you from the ground, utterly stunned at your actions. your worrisome nature soon came back as you got down and tended to him, asking him if anything felt serious

the guy was on a whole other realm, still not believing what you had just done, so you would have to talk to him a little more before he actually spoke, praising you immensely for your skills

Rindou

it was rare for rindou to actually take part in fights. he and his brother had taken over roppongi, so there was really nothing else to do unless some punk decided he wanted to challenge them. though, usually, they'd just get knocked out by ran's metal rod in the first two minutes upon arrival

if circumstances ever lined up to get rindou involved in a serious fight, without the company of his brother, he had a tendency of going all out, knowing that the brawl wouldn't last very long

all of his energy would go into going up against his opponent, determined to show everyone how he was more than capable to take someone down without the aid of anyone else

you had always sensed that he did it for self-approval, honestly. being the younger haitani brother, he had always been looked past, so when he got the chance to fight alone, it would be a vicious one

a member of a neighbouring gang had come up with the bright idea to compare the fighting skills of the brothers, with complete faith that he was going to beat both of them up, individually

it was really just the perfect scenario for rindou, and you could tell he was giving it his all as he tackled the stranger down several times

although it seemed he had the upper hand in the situation, you were starting to worry over his energy. 10 minutes had gone by since the beginning of the fight now, and you could tell both his and his rival's stamina was starting to give way

it was only natural, seeing how the two were going at it with full force.

as they continued to fight, you spotted ran on the other side of the gathering of members, watching intently as his brother took down the guy. it was clear by his expression that you weren't the only one who had noticed the toppling descent of rindou's strength

it all came to a turning point when, as he held down his opponent to the ground, the other was able to throw a kick at such an angle that your boyfriend lost some of his grip

this allowed the guy to release himself from the hold, quickly spinning round to send a flying punch to rindou's face that he received by mere millimetres. it was rare for him to not act immediately, but with the loss of strength, you figured he was struggling to even do that

the beating against your chest was now racing, watching as your boyfriend was repeatedly being punched in the face. why wasn't he moving? had he given up?

the loud shouts from other gang members around them increased as it posed to be a loss for the haitani brother, and you didn't know what to do

biting the inside of your cheek, you decided that, seeing as nobody was bothering to make a move, you would take into into your own hands

with a speed you hadn't even expected from yourself, you sprinted over to the man above rindou, quickly hooking your arm around his neck to halt his repeated punches

with the strong grip you had on him, you were able to keep him still until you smashed the bottom of your palm up his jaw, promptly knocking him out into your arms

discarding the heavy body to the floor without a care, you lingered over the bloodied face that belonged to your partner. you took his face into your hands, cradling it as you uttered out worried questions about his state.

although he didn't tell you in that moment, he had seen what you had done and was thoroughly impressed by the swiftness of your skills. once he woke up a few hours later, you were bombarded with words of appreciation, but also suggestions for you to show him some of your hidden ways

[chiliiscereal]

I hate you

Daryl’s adopted daughter

Chapter 1

Summary: Diana is a girl on the run in the apocalypse. Her past chases her no matter where she goes. One day, by chance, she meets Daryl Dixon. Thinking she’s a walker, he shoots her and brings her back to their camp. Shane strikes a deal with her: she has to stay for two weeks before she can decide if she wants to stay. But Diana is determined to keep her past in the past, and never make the same mistake again

Season 1 - I’m not sure yet

—————

Diana sat in a circle with her family. Blood dripped down her neck from her lips.

Everything was red.

 Red

       Red

 Red

How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

Her eyes never left the blond man she once knew. She watched him as her fury and fear grew louder and louder, echoing off her skull.

That was, until Negan stepped out of the van. He walked about the circle, until his eyes landed on her.

"Fancy seein' you again, Darlin'."

                               ————————

    Rick stumbled into the street, a hospital gown draping his skin. He knew there was something wrong. There was something off. Maybe it was intuition...

  Or maybe it was the woman, chopped in half, chomping her teeth to get at his ankles.

    He rubbed his eyes, the sun glaring right into his vision. It had been a week and a half since the start, and a day since his IV ran dry. It had been even longer since he last saw the sun.

   Where was everyone?

 Why hadn't he waken up to nurses and doctors?

  Or his family's familiar faces?

  He spotted bodies. Bodies walking. Maybe three.

  He couldn't understand... he couldn't understand any of it...

  The light off a gun reflected into his eyes. He blocked it and moved to see where it was coming from.

  The revolver was placed in the holster on the side of a walker. The man... or whatever he was now... shuffled toward Rick.

 He was deathly pale.

  "Sir," Rick's voice cracked, "sir, are you okay?" He held his hand out, trying to make it a comforting gesture to someone possibly in need.

  Edging closer, the man stared at him with hungry dead eyes. His clothes were torn and draped off his skinny frame, his eyes laid sunken in his face.

   "Sir?" He asked again, stumbling back.

   The man growled and advanced further.

   "Are you-?"

   With a blur, the man was down.

  Nearly tripping over his own feet, Rick let out a horrified gasp.

  On the ground was a little girl, around Carl's age, placing her knife in the mans forehead. Her light blond hair, tucked under her baseball cap, clung to her dirty face. The crunch echoed in Ricks head, reverberating off his skull.

 That was the first walker he had ever seen killed.

  She quickly wiped her knife on the walkers shirt and snatched his revolver. She opened the back to check how much ammo was left. Satisfied, she clicked it shut and began patting the double dead man down.

  "W-why did you do that?" Rick found his voice again.

  She leaped back, her bright blue eyes finding his.

   Quickly, she pulled herself up and began to dash away. If Rick hadn't lunged out and caught the back of her shirt she would have disappeared as soon as she apparated into his line of sight.

  "No. You can't leave yet." He spun her around to face him. It was evident how terrified she was. Especially with her eyes as wide as dinner plates and hands clawing at his arm. "Why did you kill that man?"

  She glared at him and wriggled harder. "Man?" She gasped, "that... that wasn't a man!" Her hands fought to unclamp Ricks grip. "That's a Walker! He would have eaten you if I hadn't stopped him!" She grunted with effort. "Didn't even see you. You already look dead."

  "What do you mean by dead?" Rick questioned, holding tighter.

  "Gone. Deceased. vamosed. Perished." With each word she struggled. "Now let me go!"

  Rick was about to question again, when he felt the stitches on his side rip. With a grunt, he let her go and fell to the ground. His hand cupped his side.

  "Please.." he stopped to breathe heavily as the girl watched him warily. "I don't know what's happening. I woke up in the- in the hospital." He glanced down at his side to eye the bleeding. "The sun will be setting soon... and I need help."

The girl glanced at the lowering sun. Tapping her foot, she glowered at the ground. "How can I trust you." It wasn't a question. It was as if she was challenging him to be wrong.

Rick attempted to stand, only to find himself back in the ground. "I was a cop. My job was to protect the people. ALL people. And I like to think I did a good job of that."

She stuck the revolver in her holster (which was clearly stolen based on how big it was). "Prove it."

"I don't have my badge or my hat. That's at my house. But I'm officer Rick Grimes. I've been on the force for seven years. My partner was Shane Walsh. I was in my car when we got a call about a run away car. I was shot in action and hospitalized." His eyes seemed to beg her to help him.

Diana tried to fight the raging war in her head.

She knew better.

She knew to trust no one.

Her father and mother both betrayed her trust.

Why trust again?

But... she could tell when people were lying. All people have tells. Her fathers tell was him avoiding eye contact. He always looked at the ground. For her mother, she always played with her wedding ring.

But this Cop... sheriff... man... was not lying.

He looked her dead in the eye.

"Fine. Come with me." She hadn't known that she was gripping her new revolver until she released it. "I have a place in the sewers. I know... in most movies that's where walkers would be. But how would someone get down there in the first place? You'd have to move the lid." She walked over to Rick and slung his arm over her shoulder to help him stand in any way. "And most walkers," she grunted "are pretty stupid."

"Thank you...for helping me." Rick stated gratefully.

"I have some house rules, you know."

"Name them." He said confidently as they shuffled down the street.

"One: you're gone when you can walk."

"You don't want someone to watch your back?" Rick was surprised. Usually, kids jumped at the chance for safety. The ones he has worked with in cases of violence had immediately decided he was trustworthy.

"the worlds changed. You can't trust people." He noted the grim expression on her face. He wanted to ask why, but he figured it was better to stay silent.

"I'd argue about that, but I'll hear out your other rules." He wrapped his arm around his side again, fingering the broken stitches.

"Two: you do as I say or you die."

"Yes ma'am."

Rick couldn't help but like her spunk. She was serious, but it wasn't much of a threat coming from an eleven year old girl.

"3: ..." she started only to trail off.

"...3?"

She cleared her throat and resituated Ricks arm. "You repay my kindness if we ever cross paths again. I don't care how."

"Was already planning on it." He grinned. He could feel the conversation beginning to die, so he started it back up again. "What's your name, kid?"

She hesitated, eyes staying on the road. "Diana." She spoke softly. "My mother named me after the Roman goddess of the night."

Rick smiled. "Pretty name."

Diana's thoughts drifted to her mother. Her mother with her honey brown hair and warm chocolate eyes. She stopped her thoughts there. "Well... what about you, officer friendly? You got a name?"

Rick laughed. "My names Rick Grimes. I ain't named after the moon goddess, but I think it has a nice ring to it. Don't you?"

She forced down a smile. "Pretty name."

He chuckled. "Well, Diana, I am glad I ran into you."

~~~~~

They arrived at the sewer lid.

"Here we are. I've been camped out here since early yesterday morning." She slipped under Ricks arm and got down to lift the lid. With a couple tries, and an offer from Rick for assistance, she lifted the lid.

She stood up and dusted off her hands. "I'll go down first and scope out the area. Need to make sure it's still clear. Then I'll help you down."

She began her descent.

Rick watched the top of her light haired head fade into the darkness with each step. He briefly thought she would try and make a run for it. Escape through the sewers.

He immediately dismissed it. Why would she waste daylight by helping him? The sound of her footsteps hitting the water at the bottom and echoing as she walked down the tunnels set him on edge.

Especially when they began to fade.

He sat patiently for over ten minutes, watching the sunlight tick by. He looked down into the darkness, listening for any sound. There was nothing... not even a whisper.

Maybe she did leave.

"Alright, Sheriff, get down here! It's clear!" Her voice reverberated loudly from the tunnels so suddenly, that Rick stumbled back.

"I don't have all day! Unless you wanted to be walker chow, get down here!"

Rick chuckled as he began to shuffle his way down the tunnel.

"Any day now, Deputy Fossil!" She shouted.

"Hold your horses, kid." He slowly lowered himself into the dark. He looked down to see where his feet were going to land, spotting the flashlight that Diana held. Her light hazel eyes reflected impatience.

"Nice place." He said, clearly biting back his truth.

"Don't be fake." She said as she kicked at the water. "It smells like a pig ate dirty gym socks, farted, and died."

"I was trying to spare your feelings."

"Don't bother. I'm leaving this place as soon as you're ready."

Rick finally landed on the bottom of the sewer. "You got a place you're headed to?"

Diana shook her head. "No. Just a place I never want to see again."

Rick stopped moving to look at her. "Troubled home life?"

She thought about it and shrugged. "I guess you could call it troubled home life. It was home once. But this apocalypse changes people."

"I'm sorry kid."

"Don't be. That's just life."

Rick opened his mouth to say more, but Diana beat him to it.  

  "Alright, lets move." She motioned for him to follow.

           The place she had holed up in was dryer than most spaces. There were a couple of dirty blankets placed on the ground and a first aid kit. Some batteries were sprinkled on top.

     "You can sit there. I can stitch you back up." Diana pointed at the wall. Their part of the sewer was a dead end so they wouldn't be surprised.

     "Thank you."

Diana hadn't stitched wounds before, but she did well enough.

 Rick tried starting a conversation again but she told him she needed silence to focus.

                                         ~~~~

    "Are you sure you want to travel by yourself?"

  Diana nodded as she packed her things. "Very sure. You're nice and all, but you don't want to travel with me."

 The Georgia sun had risen already and they both were preparing for departure in the street

   "Do you have any family to find?" Rick questioned.

"I already know where they are. And they don't want me either." The girl looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"If we ever meet again, you better give me more details." Rick narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. "I deserve to know more about the little girl who saved me."

"Once a cop always a cop I guess." Diana said slyly. She looked back at him. "What about you? Any family?"

 She eyed a walker down the street but decided it was too far away to pursue.

"I got a son and a wife. My son's your age actually. 11." Rick looked through the neighborhoods. "I don't know where they are, but I'll protect them. They need me."

Diana squinted in the direction he was looking at, seeing nothing. "You'll find them, chief." She patted his shoulder, having to reach up very high.

"It was nice to meet you, Diana." Rick said, a little sad that they were parting. Possibly that he would no longer have company. Maybe that he didn't have enough time to get to know her well. "I don't know if I'll see you again, but you helped me without anything to gain."

Diana scoffed. "I'm not a good kid."

"You're right."

Diana looked up, confused.

"You're one of the best."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Go. You have people to find."

"From the looks of thangs, so do you."

"I don't have people."

"You'll find them. Just a matter of where and when." He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

She placed a brown bag in his hand instead. "It's for the road. There's batteries, water, a flashlight, food, bandages, antibiotics, and one more thing..." she unbuckled her holster and handed it to him, along with the revolver. "You need these more than I do."

Rick tried to push it back to the little girl. "No I can't take this. You need it."

"No, you do. You're gonna help people, Rick. You're gonna help so many. You gotta find your people." She pushed it back to him. "I'm gonna be fine. I spotted a gun down the road that I'm gonna check out later."

Rick gave her a solemn look before accepting it. "If you can, head to Atlanta. The CDC is near there and there's bound to be survivors."

"I don't need survivors."she rolled her eyes.

"They may need you, kid. Ever think about that?"

She stayed silent for a moment. "Stay safe, sherif fun sponge." She shook his hand, even though he hadn't offered it yet. "I hope we meet again."

"We will." He smiled. "I don't know how or when, but we will. I have a debt to pay."

She wanted to return the smile but couldn't. "I hope you find them."

"You to."

With that, they went separate ways.

Next fifty chapters posted on noandisaidno on wattpad!

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 13

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Explain again why you’re doing this to yourself, Mulder?” Byers asks with a pained look of concern.

He’s sifting through his closet, deciding what would be appropriately friendly for his outing with Scully. What kind of outfit says “I have no intention of trying to seduce you,” but also doesn’t leave him looking unworthy of seduction?

“I wish I knew, Byers,” he says as he pulls out his Greys jersey. Sports attire is very casual, but Val had once told him that he was devastatingly sexy in this jersey, so he tugs it off the hanger and puts it on over his white T-shirt. “I guess the idea of never seeing her again is even worse than being around her and knowing we’ll never be more than friends.”

Byers shakes his head slowly. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Mulder. Are you sure you aren’t secretly holding out hope that you can steal her away?”

Mulder buttons up the jersey and considers the question, his mouth quirked to the side. “I mean, I’m not actively trying to do anything, she’s way too smart for that and she’d see right through it. But the hope is there, sure.”

Byers nods sadly. “Well, good luck. Here are the keys, by the way.” He pulls a small key ring from his pocket and hands it to Mulder, who deposits it into his jeans pocket.

“Thanks, Byers, I appreciate the favor. I owe you one,” he says, clapping the man on the back.

After Byers is gone he brushes his teeth, considers and then decides against pounding a beer to calm his nerves, then says goodbye to Priscilla and heads to the Hoover building.

Scully is early, leaning against the passenger side door of her car when he pulls into the lot. He lets out a pained moan when he sees her, clad in flared jeans and a peasant-style flowered top that is cinched under her breasts. While he knows that realistically no human is perfect, Scully is about as close as it gets. He tries not to imagine what she’s got on under there, lest he embarrass himself.

He pulls up beside her and she opens the door, smiling at him shyly as she lowers herself into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” she says, and just the greeting makes his heart ache.

“Hey,” he returns with what he hopes is a casual, friendly smile. Do not leer at her. Do not gaze. He’s been giving himself frequent reminders.

“So, what do you have planned?” she asks as she pulls the seatbelt across her lap.

Mulder smirks in reply, backing out of the lot. “All in good time,” he says, and she gives him an appraising look.

“I’m not even sure why I’m instilling so much trust in you here, Mulder. Don’t push it,” she says with a playful tone, though it’s clear there’s some truth to the statement.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you the preliminary details,” He acquiesces. “First we’re going to The Queen Vic, which has the best fish and chips in DC, in my humble opinion. Have you been there?”

She shakes her head.

“Perfect. Then we’ll head down to the wharf and get some ice cream.” He suddenly wonders if he’s made incorrect assumptions about what she likes, and casts her a concerned glance at a stoplight. “Do you like ice cream?”

She looks at him like he has three heads. “Who doesn’t like ice cream?”

He feels a little wave of relief. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who doesn’t like ice cream,” he replies, “but frankly, whoever they are, I have no interest in knowing them.”

She chuckles and there it is again, that ache in his chest. He wonders if it will fade over time.

The Queen Vic isn’t very busy just yet, given that they’re having an early dinner. They are seated at a small, dimly lit booth and each order a beer, fish and chips. Scully opts for an IPA and he feels a retroactive flush of embarrassment at the beer he served her, now knowing what her tastes are. She’s looking around, taking in the ambiance and British paraphernalia papering the walls, and he is looking at her. The cut of her top reveals the soft swell of her breasts, pale and inviting. Even her neck is beautiful, smooth and long and god, he wants to kiss it. Has he ever been taken with someone’s jawline before? Well he has now. Devastatingly beautiful, she is. Ache. Ache. Ache.

She’s looking at him now, and he smiles guiltily, having been caught. Fuck. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that. She bites her lip and fiddles with the salt shaker as though she’s not entirely sure what function it serves. What would a friend do? What would a friend ask? He needs to act like a friend, if he wants to be one.

“So, how’s wedding planning going?” he asks, the words feeling sour in his mouth.

She gives him a quizzical expression. “It’s okay. Fine, I guess.”

He nods. “And how’s Ethan?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um...fine. He’s fine. Mulder...why are you asking me about that? About the wedding, and Ethan?”

He dips his chin a bit, giving the pepper shaker a similar assessment. “I guess I just figured if we’re friends, a friend would ask about things like that?” He chances a glance at her and her expression is sympathetic, perhaps even pitying.

“You don’t need to do that, Mulder. We don’t have to talk about my relationship to be friends.” She’s running her finger over the condensation on the side of her glass, and he finds it disturbingly arousing.

“Fair enough, how’s work? Is that a better topic?” He is rewarded with a smile. My god that smile. She could melt permafrost with that smile.

“Work is great, no complaints,” she says coolly, an apparently genuine answer.

They drink, and eat, and talk. They talk about why she loves teaching, and how she got into pathology. He shares a bit about his methods for starting and then adjusting a criminal profile. They talk about med school, and his time at Oxford. He tells her about Phoebe and she admits a proclivity towards dating older men, with the exception of Ethan. It is so easy between them, and so right. He wants to scoop her up and steal her away in his car. Take her to a faraway place where there is no Ethan, where they can see this thing through. He notices how she often tries to hide her smiles, and the major role her eyebrows play in her facial expressions. She has a little mole above her lip that she’s attempted to cover with makeup, and her fingernails are perfectly manicured, like she has them professionally done. He wonders if she has tattoos, or piercings. If her bellybutton is an innie or an outie. If she prefers breakfast or dinner. If she likes morning sex. If she trims her pubic hair or takes it all off. He wants to know her, every bit. But he can’t. He never will. It hurts to think about it.

He drives them down to the wharf and they get ice cream cones from a stand near the water; she picks cookies and cream and he opts for rocky road. The evening is warm but not uncomfortable, the sun holding steady as it makes its descent towards the horizon. These are the dog days of summer, the daylight stretching well into the evening. No cover of darkness for a lover’s confession, not that he has any business making one. Friends meeting in daylight, above board. Never anything more.

They walk along the boardwalk, continuing their conversation between sweet licks, and he avoids watching her, but not entirely successfully. He must have been putting too much effort towards not staring and too little towards rotating his cone, because suddenly his ice cream flops over the side of its perch and lands on the ground with an audible smack.

He stops walking and stares at the now empty cone in his hand for a beat, and then he hears her giggling. When he looks over to her, she has her hand firmly planted over her mouth while she struggles to contain her laughter, the titters shaking her shoulders gently. The resulting swell of affection is overwhelming.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” he says dryly, and she works even harder to stop laughing, her face contorting into a grimace as tears pool in her eyes, shaking her head as though she could possibly deny her amusement.

He chucks his cone into a nearby trash can, then approaches her.

“Looks like you’ll have to share yours with me,” he says, moving his hand as though to take her ice cream, and she pulls it away with an open-mouthed expression of shock.

“Get out of here, it’s not my fault you licked yours right off the cone,” she says, wiping at her eyes with her free hand.

“Come on, Scully, friends share, don’t they?” he teases, maneuvering around to where she’s moved her arm, swiping at it playfully.

“Mulder, knock it off,” she replies, still smiling, and they are now moving in circles, him towards her ice cream while she artfully moves it out of his grasp.

Suddenly he swoops behind her, his long arms circling her waist and pulling her flush against him, pinning her stationary while he wraps his hand around her wrist and brings her ice cream cone to his own mouth. She shrieks in protest as he steals a big bite, and once he’s accomplished his goal, he becomes aware of their proximity. The feel of her pressed against him, the taper of her waist under his forearm, the smell of her shampoo in his nose. He grips her tighter, ever so briefly, but then releases her suddenly. He has no right. He crossed a line. She steps forward slowly, turning to look at him with pink cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, his arms dropping to his sides, woefully empty. Missing her already.

She shakes her head gently. “It’s okay,” she says, and they continue walking.

As they approach his car, the sun is just beginning to kiss the horizon. It’s nearly 8:30.

“This was really fun, Mulder, thank you,” she says with a shy smile, and he grins at the affirmation.

“There is one more thing I had planned, Scully, unless you have to get home right away,” he says cautiously, and she regards him with surprise, but not unpleasantly so.

“I don’t know, let me call my mother and see if I can stay out past curfew,” she jokes, but then adds “I suppose I’m curious to see what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Great, let’s go,” he replies as he opens the car door for her.

———

She watches streetlights racing past as Mulder drives them to their final destination and feels a swell of guilt for how wonderful this night has been, then tries to talk herself out of it. She’s done nothing wrong, nothing inappropriate. She’s allowed to have dinner and ice cream with a man who is not her fiancé; he doesn’t own her. Given, the moment with the ice cream cone was a bit more flirtatious than might be ideal, but they were caught up in the moment. She tries not to remember the feel of his compact body pushed against her back, the strength of his arm around her waist. Tries not to imagine how it would feel to have him hold her like that without their clothes on. She closes her eyes and swallows.

They pull up in front of a darkened sports complex and she turns to look at him, questions communicated through her eyes.

“You don’t have something more worthwhile to do right now than slap a horsehide with a stick do ya, Scully?” he says with a smirk.

Her eyebrows lift. “Perhaps not, Mulder, but it looks like they’re closed.”

“A mere technicality,” he replies as he parks right in front of the main entrance, not even in a parking spot.

They approach the doors and he produces a set of keys from his pocket, holding the door open for her before he locks it behind them. There are security lights faintly illuminating the shuttered games and concessions, and she startles a little when she feels him slip his hand into hers, pulling her towards a hallway. His hand is broad and slightly callused, and she unconsciously threads her fingers through his. He glances at her, a slight cast of surprise in his features, but doesn’t say anything.

When they reach a large room, he flips on the lights and she sees rows of batting cages, five or six lined up on either side of a walkway down the middle.

“Are we supposed to be in here?” she asks him suspiciously, and he shrugs.

“The cops aren’t going to roll up or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says as he gathers a bucket of balls and two bats. “Even if they did, a couple FBI badges should send them off right quick.” He winks at her and she feels a flutter in her belly.

He motions for her to follow him to one of the cages, and she waits nervously while he loads the pitching machine and turns it on. When he turns around, he sees her trepidation and smiles warmly at her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he says reassuringly, and she forces her mouth into a tight smile.

He directs her to stand just outside the cage and demonstrates for her how the pitching machine works, talking her through his stance and movements for seven or eight pitches. He hits every single one, sending the ball crashing into the back wall with a padded smack, and she has the unsettling feeling that she’s about to embarrass herself.

“Alright, batter up!” he says, handing her the bat and sending her in.

She gives him a doubtful look.

“It’s easy, you’ll get the hang of it,” he encourages her, then shows her where to stand before he steps out and starts the pitching machine.

When the first pitch sails by, she winces and lets out a little squeak, but doesn’t swing. She can hear Mulder chuckle a little, but waits for the next one. When it comes, she swings way too early, and it flies past her head and bounces off the back wall. Three or four complete misses later, she looks at him woefully.

“I’m terrible at this, Mulder,” she whines.

He shakes his head and smiles at her.

“You just need some minor adjustments,” he offers, then comes inside the cage. He steps up close behind her and she startles a little at the contact.

“Sorry, is this okay? It’s the best way to show you,” he offers, and she nods, the back of her head brushing against his shoulder with the movement. He’s just showing her how to hit a stupid baseball. It’s the least romantic thing on earth, as far as she’s concerned.

He steps close again, wrapping his arms around hers as the length of his torso presses firmly against hers from her shoulder blades right down to her ass. She can feel his breath hot on her ear as he speaks.

“Now don’t strangle the bat, Scully, just shake hands with it,” he says as their palms brush over one another, vying for real estate. “We want to go hips before hands,” he continues, “stride forward, and then turn.” He motions with a hand in front of her towards the pitching machine, and she nods in confirmation. “It’s hips,” he places an open palm against her hip bone and physically turns her torso. She feels a rush between her thighs. “Before hands,” he replaces his hand on the bat and guides them through a mock swing.

“Okay,” she says, taking a steadying breath.

“Again, that’s hips,” there his palm is again, hot and firm and pressing into her flesh as he tilts her pelvis forcibly, “before hands. What is it?”

“Um, hips before hands,” she says breathily, resisting an overwhelming urge to press her ass back harder into his lap, to slip that hand beneath the waistband of her jeans so she can feel it on her bare skin. She has a vision of her riding him on the floor as the pitching machine flings balls aimlessly against the back wall, no one caring enough to hit them. She shivers.

“We’re gonna wait on the pitch, keep our eye on the ball, and then we’re just gonna make contact. We’re not gonna think, we’re just gonna let it fly, Scully, okay?”

“Okay,” she says shakily, her heart thrumming in her chest.

They take several swings, the bat making contact with the ball with a sharp crack. Mulder is murmuring in her ear about letting your mind go blank and forgetting about all your worries, but she’s too distracted by the heat of his body and the smell of his aftershave to hear him. If not for the risk of getting pelted by a ball, she just might turn in his arms, push him up against the wire-fence walls of this batting cage, and show him how she prefers to handle bats and balls.

The grip of his hands over hers on the bat pinches the skin around her engagement ring and she jerks. Mulder steps away from her a bit.

“You okay?” he asks, and she nods.

“Um, maybe I should try by myself now. Thanks for showing me,” she says without looking at him, and he steps back into the walkway to watch her. She hits the next three balls, then turns to smile at him victoriously. The pain and longing in his expression makes her heart sink.

After shutting the place down, they drive back to the Hoover building in relative silence, tension hanging thick between them like a curtain. He puts the car in park and gets out, walking her to the door of her own car, which strikes her as unnecessary. She stands by the open door, sensing that there’s something he wants to say.

“Scully….” he stops and shakes his head gently, talking himself out of it.

“What?” she asks, desperately wanting to know what he was going to say.

He clenches his jaw, fighting an inner battle.

“Scully, I know I shouldn’t say this to you. I know that you’re...with someone. I just-” he purses his lips, then closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, his eyes are so full of emotion it makes her breath catch in her chest. “I think about you all the time. Every second of every day.”

“Oh,” she responds lamely. There’s that urge again, the one she has to resist. “You seem like the kind of guy that believes in reincarnation, Mulder,” she says softly.

He gives her a quizzical look. “I don’t NOT believe in it,” he offers.

She smiles sadly at him, reaching out to grasp his hand and give it a brief squeeze. “Maybe in another life,” she says, then climbs into her car and shuts the door.

As she drives home, tears run down her cheeks freely. If she had to identify a reason for them, grief would be the closest one.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Fifteen)

Summary: (Y/N)’s first solo mission as the Cosmic Sorceress takes an unexpected turn, and she begins to notice some worrying developments with her magic.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fifteen January 2nd, 2016 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“I’m really sorry about your nose, Sam…I-I could try healing it for you? I’m not very good at it, but I might be able to stop the bleeding just a little…”

Although partially obscured by a handful of blood-soaked tissues, (Y/N) could just make out a glimmer of amusement in the man’s dark brown eyes as he shook his head. “Nope, I’m good, I think I prefer the old-fashioned way of fixin’ broken noses. And stop apologizin’ so much, (Y/L/N), you landed that punch fair and square!”

“Birdbrain’s right, (Y/N), he walked right into it.” Natasha smirked and handed Sam another tissue. “You two should know that I had to kick Barnes out of the training room ‘cause he was laughing so hard.” Sam ambled away towards the restroom, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath as he went. “Your hand-to-hand combat has definitely improved over the past two months; tomorrow, I’ll get Steve or Thor to spar with you so we can really see how far you’ve come.”

“Mm-hmm.” (Y/N) had only been half-listening, as her attention was focused on her bandage-wrapped right hand; she could still recall the rush of fury swirling inside of her after ducking Sam’s attack and the unmistakable feeling of satisfaction when the tell-tale sound of a nose breaking filled the training room. Replaying the incident in her mind caused (Y/N)’s stomach to churn uncomfortably; she’d never been entirely comfortable with violence yet she understood that its necessity came with being an Avenger, but what she’d felt earlier had been something else entirely. It reminded her all too much of the frequent nightmares she’d been having about her parents and the destruction they’d caused in their lifetime, and that realization shook her to the core.

“You okay?” Natasha’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “That was a pretty hard punch, are you sure your hand’s not hurt? We could get Bruce to-”

“I’m fine, Nat, it’s only a little sore; I’ll be sure to ice it later.” (Y/N) gave her a quick smile and began unwrapping the bandages from her hands. “So, have you gotten a chance to begin listening to Good Omens yet?”

That seemed to do the trick. Unbeknownst to most of the team, Natasha Romanoff was secretly turning into quite the bookworm and would regularly consult (Y/N) for reading recommendations; she preferred to listen to audio books as opposed to reading print, which was why their teammates were unaware of her new passion, and she’d even taken to listening to them while she trained. (Y/N) had quickly learned that books were currently the only thing that could distract the usually observant spy, and this time she was not disappointed. “Yeah, I’ve gotten through the first three chapters already and I really like it so far. I-”

“Miss (Y/L/N),” The robotic voice of J.A.R.V.I.S. filled the training room. “You have been assigned to a mission by Director Fury.”

“What’s the mission, J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“The apprehension of one Antoine Garmiena, a known Hydra enforcer. Our agents have tracked his whereabouts to a hotel in Vancouver, Canada and Director Fury has assigned only you the task of arresting him. The Quinjet will depart in one hour and when you land, you will be met by a CIA task force. Do you accept the mission?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and replied, “Yes, I do. Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S.” Turning back to Natasha, she gave her friend a smile. “Well, I’d better go and get ready. Thank you for such a…productive training session, and I’ll see you later!”

After stopping by her room to take a quick shower and change into her uniform, (Y/N) boarded the Quinjet by herself and was on route to Canada; from her seat near the back of the jet, she was finally able to absorb the fact that this was her first solo mission as an Avenger. To her surprise, the thought of apprehending Garmiena alone didn’t fill her with anxiety; if anything, she was glad for the opportunity to do something on her own after working with the others for so long. If Director Fury and Steve think I’m up to this than I know that I am, she thought with a smile as she continued flicking through the file on Garmiena that Director Fury had given her.

The buzzing of her phone on the seat beside her broke her concentration but when she caught sight of the caller I.D. that popped up, she immediately set the file down to answer it. “Hey, you. Isn’t it almost midnight in Oslo right now?”

“Unfortunately, yes, but since Barton has insisted on watching television all night I figured that calling you would be the best alternative to committing homicide.”

Through her phone’s speaker, (Y/N) heard Clint’s faint retort and couldn’t help but smile through her light scolding. “Loki, that’s no way to start a new year off.”

“That’s easy for you to say, (Y/N), you haven’t had to endure an entire evening of so-called ‘reality television.’ I swear by the Norns, if I hear one more obscenely wealthy housewife complain about something idiotically trivial…”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you called me because I was about to call and tell you I’ve been assigned a mission. I just left for Vancouver and should be back later tonight…and Fury only assigned me to this one.”

“Your first solo mission, then! Congratulations, darling, you’re going to do wonderfully!”

“Thank you, sweetheart, I’ll try to call you once the mission’s complete but I might be stuck in a meeting based on how well I do. And no pranking Clint while you two are on your mission, all right?”

“Fine, but if he continues to annoy me I’ll be forced to retaliate once we return.”

After wishing each other luck and exchanging their love, (Y/N) ended the call and set her phone down; she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to help focus her magic. Through trial and error, she and Loki had discovered that Midgardian meditation practices helped with controlling and centering her magic before missions. Object and intent, she silently chanted, object and intent; the palms of her hands tingled with familiar energy and she peeked through her eyelashes just as her vivid purple magic began to swirl around her hands. Closing her eyes again, she took another deep breath and exhaled as the all-too familiar tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach intensified; the air around her was practically humming with energy and as she worked to control it, she could almost feel-

“We will be landing shortly, Miss (Y/L/N).” J.A.R.V.I.S. announced; startled, (Y/N)’s eyes flew open and the moment her concentration faltered, she suddenly dropped back down into her seat and winced in pain. “I’m terribly sorry, but I could find no other way of informing you of the Quinjet’s status.”

“That’s okay, J.A.R.V.I.S., I didn’t even realize that I’d been…that I’d been levitating.” She carefully got to her feet and adjusted her long black and purple leather coat before fastening her sword to her belt, feeling a little unnerved by her meditation session. “Is the CIA task force prepped and waiting?”

“Yes, Agent Ross just arrived at the helipad and is awaiting your arrival.”

(Y/N) thanked the Artificial Intelligence and continued to ready herself for the mission; she double-checked that her comm link was operational and pressed the button on her glasses to mask their presence, finishing up her tasks just as the Quinjet began its descent. Once it landed smoothly on the helipad, the ramp automatically lowered and she walked out into the frosty air.

“Just once, I’d like it if these Hydra thugs would pick someplace warmer to hide out in. Tahiti would be a nice change of pace, or maybe even Fiji.” Agent Ross quipped, his teeth chattering slightly as he withdrew a gloved hand from his CIA parka’s pocket to shake hers. “It’s good to see you again; I’m glad Fury assigned you to this one ‘cause we’re gonna need more brain and less brawn to finally apprehend this slippery guy.”

Smiling, (Y/N) walked alongside the CIA agent as they entered the warmth-filled building and made their way down a long stretch of hallway. “It’s good to see you too, Agent Ross. How long has Garmiena evaded arrest so far?”

“Over one and a half years, since right before the launching of Project Insight. He was on the CIA’s radar before he was outed as a Hydra operative but since the fall of the original S.H.I.E.L.D., he’s been on the run and almost impossible to track.”

Before she could ask another question, they were escorted into a room by an armed CIA agent and came face-to-face with a group of agents seated around a table. Clad in their tactical gear, the agents perked up when they recognized who she was and began whispering to one another, much to her embarrassment. It had been difficult for her to grow used to being in the public eye, but (Y/N) had finally reached a point in her Avenger career where being recognized in public only made her feel slightly bashful and not on the verge of a full-on panic attack.

As if sensing her discomfort, Agent Ross stepped forward and cleared his throat to grab their attention. “As you’ve already noticed, the Cosmic Sorceress will be working alongside us on this operation. If that’s something you can’t handle in a professional manner, then I have a pile of coloring books and some crayons in my office that you can play with while the adults go to work. Is that clear?” The agents nodded and Agent Ross smiled. “Great. Now, let’s get to work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/N) blocked bullet after bullet fired at her but was forced to throw herself behind a nearby stone wall for cover when she caught sight of the flamethrower being aimed in her direction; clutching the stitch in her side, she yelled into her comm link, “Did you forget to mention that Garmiena’s an enhanced, Agent Ross, or did you just want to surprise me?!”

“This is the first the CIA’s hearing about it; believe me, I’m just as pissed about this as you are! There’s too many of him, I’m calling in backup from Fury-”

“No! By the time they arrive he’ll have already escaped or injured civilians; we just need to think of a new plan.” (Y/N) cautiously rose to take a quick look around the stone wall. The hotel was completely surrounded by CIA agents but they too were taking cover as a dozen versions of Garmiena stood on the roof and fired guns and other weapons at anything that dared move. Out of all the enhanced superpowers I’ve seen as an Avenger, self-duplicating’s got to be the weirdest one yet, she thought to herself. Her eyes landed on the building beside the hotel and after realizing that they were fairly close in height, a plan began to form in her mind. “All right, I think I’ve got something but it might not work…”

“Anything’s better than nothing; what’ve you got?”

Once she and Agent Ross finalized their new plan, (Y/N) took a steadying breath and waited for the signal; sure enough, moments later the agents began returning fire on the south side of the building, giving (Y/N) enough time to sprint out from behind her hiding spot and to the building adjacent to the hotel. Without stopping to question if her plan would even work, (Y/N) summoned her purple-hued magic into her palms and aimed them towards the ground; the overwhelming force of her magic propelled her into the sky at dizzying speed, and in the blink of an eye she had landed on the roof of the building.

Not stopping to admire her newfound magical skill, she ran at top speed towards the rooftop of the hotel and jumped, landing on the roof and somersaulting onto her feet. The duplicates of Garmiena all turned towards her with their weapons at the ready, but (Y/N) thrust her hands outwards and clenched them into fists, watching as each weapon was ripped from their grasp and thrown off the roof. She then raised her arms and forced them downwards, which caused the duplicates to be thrown high into the air before landing harshly onto the roof; one by one, the duplicates blinked into nothingness until just one man was left groaning in pain as he struggled to stand.

(Y/N) strode over to Garmiena, drawing her sword and holding it against his throat to halt his movement. “Antoine Garmiena, on behalf of the Avengers I’m placing you under arrest.” She held her free hand up to her ear and spoke into her comm link. “Target apprehended, requesting assistance on the northeast side of the rooftop.”

“Great work, Cosmic Sorceress; the tac team’s on their way up.”

Garmiena’s brow rose in surprise, and it was then that (Y/N) was struck by the unusual brightness of his hazel eyes. “So, you’re the one they call the Cosmic Sorceress. Tell me, did Stark and Banner create you in that laboratory of theirs or were you blessed by the gods as I was?”

“Apparently you’re just as delusional as they warned me you were. You didn’t receive your enhancement from the gods, you’re one of the countless people who allowed Hydra to experiment on them and in return were used to carry out their bidding. If you’re trying to look for similarities between us, then I suggest you stop now because we have nothing in common.”

He chuckled to himself. “Now who’s the delusional one? The only thing keeping us from being alike is your cowardice.” (Y/N) frowned in confusion and he took the opportunity to continue uninterrupted, his eyes strangely unfocused as he spoke. “I’ve embraced my true identity while you have hidden yours away. You have the chance to fulfill your mother’s quest to rule, yet you squander your power by remaining with the Avengers, Earth’s So-Called Mightiest Heroes.”

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold at his words; clenching her jaw, she pressed her sword into the skin of his neck as her vision began to redden. “What did you just say?”

“Yes, you and I are similar, but I would say you and your mother are more alike than you realize. The fiery tempers, the star-crossed loves and most importantly, the ambition. Deep down, you know that you don’t belong with your pitiful pretend family and once you let them go…” Garmiena grinned widely and although she registered that something was off about the situation, it didn’t do a single thing to quell her growing fury. “You’ll be free to unleash your true potential.”

With a sharp flick of her wrist, (Y/N)’s purple magic swirled tightly around his body and she watched as the smug expression on his face slowly morphed into a grimace of pain. Something deep inside of (Y/N) warned her to stop but she purposefully ignored it, clenching her fingers into a fist to tighten her darkening magic’s hold…

“Stand down, we’ll take him from here.”

Startled, (Y/N) released her hold on Garmiena and looked with widened eyes as he gasped for air and her now scarlet-colored magic faded into nothing. She stumbled backwards and out of the way of the tac team as they hauled Garmiena to his feet and dragged him towards the rooftop doorway; out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Agent Ross approaching. “The CIA owes you a debt of gratitude; zero civilian casualties and minimal property damage is what we like to see in an Avenger.” He glanced over his shoulder and turned back to her with a low whisper. “So, um, about your magic…how does it work? The color, I mean; did you choose purple, or is the color tied to your emotions, like a mood ring or something?”

Tearing her eyes away from the doorway Garmiena disappeared through, (Y/N) met Agent Ross’ curious eyes with a forced smile. “You know, Agent Ross…I’m not really sure.”

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It was well past midnight by the time (Y/N) was able to go back to her suite in the Avengers Tower. She sat through a CIA mission debriefing in Vancouver before boarding the Quinjet and heading back home to New York, only to attend another debriefing in Director Fury’s office. During that time, she hadn’t had the opportunity to reflect on what had occurred on the hotel rooftop but now that she was alone with her thoughts, it was all she could focus on; she spent the entire afternoon and evening learning about Garmiena’s background, and there was absolutely nothing in the CIA or the Avenger’s dossiers that indicated that the Hydra enforcer had any connection to Alfheim. She’d even considered consulting the book King Tarian had gifted her but had quickly changed her mind; the one and only time she’d tried reading it had triggered horrific nightmares that had yet to dissipate, so she kept the book tucked away in her closet, out of sight and out of mind.

But what had worried her the most wasn’t just that Garmiena somehow possessed knowledge of her family, it was that for a split-second, she had lost control of her magic and had done very little to try and regain it. She’d wanted to hurt him, wanted him to feel pain for what he’d said and done, and if the CIA tac team hadn’t shown up when they did…she wasn’t sure what would’ve happened. First Tony and Loki, and now Garmiena, she thought to herself as she unfastened her sword from her belt and set it down on her suite’s coffee table, how many more people am I going to needlessly hurt with my magic?

As quietly as she could, (Y/N) crept into the bedroom and glanced over to see Loki already fast asleep; he was stretched out on his back, the blankets pooling at his waist as his bare chest nearly glowed in the darkness, and his expression was peaceful as he slept. Seeing her boyfriend put her at ease, and after silently changing into her pajamas and going about her nighttime routine, she carefully got into bed beside him and made herself comfortable on her right side. She smiled softly when she felt Loki’s arm wrap around her waist and hold her against his chest as he nuzzled his face into her neck and let out a sleepy hum of contentment. “How’d your mission go, my love?”

“Wonderfully.” She lied, ignoring the pang of guilt brought on by her outright deceit. “What about yours?”

“I managed not to kill Barton, so I’d say it went well. Did Garmiena put up much of a fight?”

Instead of answering, (Y/N) smoothed down his sleep-rumpled hair with gentle fingers. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart, I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. Okay?”

“…Fair enough. G’night, darling.”

“Goodnight.”

Loki quickly fell back asleep, but (Y/N)’s restless mind refused to let her follow suit. She glanced over her shoulder at her boyfriend and after checking that he was indeed asleep, she held a hand out and only hesitated a moment before summoning her magic. To her immense relief, the magic swirling around her hand had returned to its usual purple hue; the longer she laid in bed staring at the tendrils of magic dancing across her palm, however, the more curious she grew. Agent Ross had innocently speculated that her magic’s color was tied to her emotions so to test the theory out, (Y/N) thought about Garmiena’s words and how they’d affected her on the rooftop; though it was difficult, she remembered the white-hot anger that had filled her as her magic tightened its hold around him and she squeezed her eyes closed, part of her too frightened to look.

Don’t be such a coward, (Y/N) scolded herself after several long moments; taking a steadying breath, she slowly opened her eyes. She had to stifle her horrified gasp behind her free hand as her widened eyes stared at the shocking swirls of scarlet magic dancing across her palm.

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A/N: Some more interesting developments! This is the end of the second chunk of this story, and I just wanted to let you all know that there won’t be a new chapter next week but instead the week after. It’s nothing serious, I just need the time to write some more and finish up a couple of my other fics. I’m sorry to make you guys wait a little longer for the next chapter, but I promise that I’ll be back here in two weeks with an update!

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Sixteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[hphm-stuff]

I love the stuff you’ve done so far!

I’m basically obsessed with Quidditch (to an extent it’s embarrassing 😂), could I request a little fluff with our favourite captain Orion? 👉👈

Reading content about him I didn’t need to write into existence myself always makes my day 😄

Thank you so much! I am also obsessed with Quidditch (embarrassingly so 😂). Orion is definitely the best captain (sorry, Oliver), so he deserves some fluff! I get the difference between reading something you didn’t write and writing it yourself, so I’m always down to write whatever you want, especially because you’ve been so kind on all of my posts! Thank you so much for all your lovely words, they’re really appreciated.

Pairing: Orion Amari x Reader

Warnings: None really, just fluff. Very, very mild injury.

Note: I tried to keep the houses as nondescript as possible, so you can fill in the teams with whichever houses you like. Also, in this piece, the reader is a chaser. ALSO, since I think in very simple terms, Orion's dialogue was impossible for me to write. I tried, though. ALSO I thought that Orion losing his cool would be fun.

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: PROTECTIVE. ORION. You get hurt during the game, and he isn't about to let it slide.

Just a Bruise

For all intents and purposes, it was a regular Quidditch game. Your team was up about a hundred points, and the opposing team was getting desperate. It was not lost on you or your teammates when your opponents started to pull out the dirty tactics. Your team continued to play respectably, not wanting to stoop to your opponents' level.

You and your fellow chasers, Orion and Skye, were tearing down the pitch, praying that the beaters would be competent enough to keep the bludgers away from you. The opposing beaters seemed to be trying out a new strategy. It appeared, to you at least, that they had decided to pick off the chasers, one by one, starting with you.

Bludgers zoomed past you, nearly missing you as you swerved and dodged the balls that were sent your way as you flew. You put your faith in your beaters, knowing that their job was to protect you. Your faith was misguided, you realized, when you felt a sharp pain in your side that sent you hurtling toward the ground.

Luckily for you, Madam Hooch must have been on top of her game. As you were anticipating contact with the ground, you felt your descent stop. Instead of slamming into the pitch below you, you were lowered gently onto it.

Through the slight pain in your side and the adrenaline coursing through you from the fall, you heard a faint call for a timeout. You heard something hit the ground close by, and a panicked voice that you couldn't quire place due to the rush of blood through your ears. Before you could even open your eyes, you felt a hand gently cradling the back of your head.

"Open your eyes. Please," the fog in your mind cleared enough to realize that it was Orion that sounded panicked.

You slid one eye open, squinting slightly, almost as if you were trying to make sure that you really were okay. After making sure that you really hadn't become one with the ground, you let your eyes open. Orion let out a soft breath, his face full of relief. "You gave me quite the scare. Are you feeling alright?"

You nodded gently, offering him a half-smile. Madam Hooch hovered over you for a moment. "Are you alright, (Y/L/N)? Let's get you to the hospital wing."

You shook your head fervently as you looked up at her. "No, no! I'm okay. I just got the wind knocked out of me. Give me a second to breathe, and I'll be back up there."

"You really shouldn't continue to play."

"I have to! I'll be fine, I swear."

She looked at you reluctantly before nodding. "Very well. I suggest that you head there after the game, though."

With that, she stalked off. You could hear her reprimanding the other team, but you didn't quite care enough to figure out exactly what was being said.

You then made a failed attempted to sit up. A shooting pain blossomed in your side and spread toward your stomach as you tried to sit up. With a wince, you moved to lay back down. You looked at Orion, his hand still gently holding the back of your head to keep it separated from the ground.

The look on his face moved from relief to worry as you were obviously hurting. You tried to sit up one more time, clenching your jaw to work through the pain. It subsided after a moment, allowing you to fully sit upright. Someone landed a few feet off to the side of you. You caught it out of the corner of your eye.

"That was a wicked hit, (Y/L/N)," Skye said as she moved to kneel beside you. She gave you a sympathetic smile, "You alright?"

You, once again, nodded. "Yeah, fine. I promise."

"Hey, (Y/L/N)! Watch where you're going next time. Maybe you won't get hit," one of the beaters on the opposing team jeered.

The voice shook Orion out of whatever trance he was in. He had previously been watching you quietly, likely trying to figure out how injured you really are. His face fell at the mockery, and you saw something you'd never seen in his eyes before. Rage.

The usually calm captain was up and storming toward the opposing team. He grabbed the beater that made the comment by the collar and practically pulled him off the ground. "If that bludger left so much as a bruise, I'm coming for your head. Do you understand?!"

Orion, in the entire time you'd known him, had never, ever lost his cool. He had never raised his voice. He sure as hell had never threatened anyone. You shared a look of pure disbelief with Skye.

Madam Hooch could be heard trying to break it up. "Mr. Amari, you stop that! Right now!"

He didn't seem to be listening to her. From your spot on the ground, you couldn't quite see the beater's reaction, but you could hear the worried tone. "That's the game! People get hurt!"

"Tell me, do people get targeted? Is that the game?"

The beater stuttered through his answer. "No. No, they don't."

Orion was half way through another threat when Madam Hooch broke it up. Her firm, booming voice seemed to fill the pitch. "Mr. Amari! Enough!"

Orion begrudgingly let go of the beater, practically shoving him away. He turned and made his way back to you, kneeling in front of you again. Any trace of the anger that he just felt dissipated when his eyes settled on you again. You couldn't hide the look of shock on your face at his outburst. "What's wrong, darling?"

"I had no idea you even knew what anger was."

He let out a light laugh at the comment. "I apologize for losing my temper. Seeing you in pain and the insensitivity he showed you lit a deep-seated fire in me, love. I would be remiss to let that slide."

You let out a soft giggle at his words. Skye stood and extended her hand toward you. "C'mon, (Y/L/N). We have a game to win."

You took her hand and stood. You stumbled slightly from the force Skye used to pull you up, and Orion reached out to steady you. You shot him a grateful smile. His eyes found yours, and the worry was back. "Are you absolutely positive that you can continue to play?"

"I'm fine, Ri. Really. Don't worry about me."

He let out a gentle sigh. With a nod of his head, he moved to place a hand on your cheek. "Fine, but I'm taking you to the hospital wing after the game."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "If you insist."

He grinned and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I do, darling."

You two just looked at each other for a moment before he pulled you into a hug. You noticed that he tried his best to avoid hugging you too tight so as not to irritate your injury. You hugged him tightly and felt a light kiss pressed to your temple. He spoke in a gentle tone. "I want you to be careful up there."

"Ri, if I'm careful, we'll lose the game."

"I'd rather lose the game than lose you, love. Please, promise me you will take it easy."

You relented, knowing that he'd bench you if you protested. "Fine. I will."

Orion called off the time out, and both your team and the opposition took to the sky again. Even though you promised Orion you'd take it easy, you worked harder than you had before the time out. There was no way you'd let the other team win after their stunt.

You were already so many points ahead that they really had no hope of taking the victory. This was cemented when your seeker caught the snitch.

You followed the rest of your team as they descended onto the pitch. Before you could join the celebration, a hand gently circled your wrist and was pulling you toward the direction of the castle. You weren't shocked to realize it was Orion. "Ri, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to the hospital wing. Like I insisted."

You giggled gently. "But we have celebrating to do!"

"I know how much you love the festivities after the games, but I will only be able to celebrate when you are taken care of. Once we are sure that you are free from injury, we will join our teammates in celebration."

You grinned at him, and he looked at you just in time to catch it. He returned the smile. "You worry about me more than I worry about me, Ri."

He let out a light chuckle. "Trust me, I already know that."

Orion continued to walk with you to the hospital wing, letting Madam Pomfrey take you from him to give you a quick check. She had you sit on a bed as she inspected the place you got hit. "Just a nasty bruise. No broken ribs, no collapsed lungs. No ruptured organs. You should be alright in a few days."

You thanked her. Orion was waiting for you just outside the hospital wing. "So?"

You grinned at him. "Just a bruise, Ri. Can we go party now?"

He grinned and moved to take your hands, using his grip on them to pull you in closer to him. He leaned in, placing a soft, loving kiss on your forehead. "Of course we can, love."

The two of you started off back toward your common room. You knew that the party would already be started. As you walked, he turned to glance at you. "Do you know how proud of you I am?"

"What?" you asked with a grin. A light blush found its way onto your cheeks.

"You played amazingly today, before and after the incident. You always play amazingly. You are an asset to our team."

You grinned, speaking playfully. "Just to the team?"

He laughed. "To me, too. You truly are a gift, and I am thankful for you every single day."

"You're pretty cool yourself."

You two shared a laugh over that. Before heading into the common room. He stopped you just before you walked into the room. With a light grin, he reached up to carefully brush some stray hair from your face, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. After pulling away, both of you were grinning. He spoke in a light tone. "I truly am glad that you're not too badly hurt. I don't know what I would do if you were."

You grinned, moving to gently cup his cheeks. "I'm fine, I promise. Let's go in and have some fun, okay?"

He nodded at you. "Let's, darling."

The two of you then walked into the common room, joining your housemates for the party.

[kinktae]

bitchin’ || pt. 7 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 3.4k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: sorry this chapter is so short :(

A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART SEVEN

Your fingers wrapped around the metal handle, prying open the door of your dorm.

Unsurprisingly, you were met with a mop of dark hair and a full set of white teeth, Jungkook's smile wide and blinding. You had figured the incessant knocking was his doing.

"Yes?"

Your tone was dry, clueing Jungkook in that despite the 24 hours that had passed since the day of your event, you were still, in fact, pissed at him.

Moving a hand from behind his back, he presented you with a bouquet of yellow flowers, jutting them your way. Your eyes fell onto the flowers with indifference, clearly not impressed.

"These are for you." He enthused.

"Is this your way of apologizing?"

Jungkook sighed, flowers falling to his side, “Change into something nice, we’re going out.”

You quirked a brow at him.

“Uh, or don’t! What you’re wearing right now is cool too! Totally up to you.” He backtracked quickly.

You were in polka-dotted pajama pants, a plain white t-shirt on your upper body– his shirt actually. You had stolen it from him some time ago, he was just good-natured enough to pretend like he hadn't noticed.

Rolling your eyes, you snatched the bouquet out of his eyes, the faintest hint of a grin on your lips.

"Fine." You agreed, hand coming out to press back against his chest as he tried to walk into your dorm. "But you're waiting here."

Jungkook pouted as the door shut shortly after, feeling very much like a puppy who had been put in time out.

And just like a puppy, any grudge he felt towards his owner was forgotten the moment you came back out, his cheeks warm as you intertwined your hand with his, unable to hold a grudge against him either.

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"Is the blindfold really necessary?" Your voice wavered nervously, a scarf wrapped tightly around your head to block your vision. You had both of your hands gripped around Jungkook's arm as he attempted to guide you up a set of stairs.

"Yes, it'll ruin the surprise if you see where we're going."

"My ass is going to be ruined if I fall and bust it."

"And what a nice ass it is." Jungkook tutted sadly, causing you to snort.

"Make sure you're paying attention to where we're going." You scolded, slapping his bicep.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, "Relax, nerd, we're here."

Your steps were brought to a halt, the sound of a heavy door opening ringing out. You cocked your head as a breeze washed over you, the kind that didn’t feel like it came from air conditioning.

"Grant me sight, oh powerful one." You joked as Jungkook began to untie your blindfold.

You squinted harshly as light flooded your eyes, blinking away spots the blurriness as you took in your surroundings.

"Where are we?" You marveled.

"The multimedia building rooftop." He informed you as you stepped out of the doorway, admiring the garden that was spread across the entire space. A makeshift greenhouse, you deduced. "It's where the Botany Club and Gardening Club meet and work."

You were absolutely enthralled, you hadn't the slightest clue that a place like this was sitting hidden on your campus. And as beautiful as it was up here, it was the woven picnic basket sitting by a bush of familiar-looking yellow flowers that caught your attention. Immediately, you recognized them as being the flowers Jungkook had gifted you with back at your dorm. You grinned.

Accompanying the basket was a pile of colorful blankets laid out of the concrete floor, along with pillows and another bouquet of yellow flowers, this time set up nicely in a glass vase.

"You know I don't cook, but, uh, I do know how to make a mean PB&J sandwich so..." Jungkook laughed nervously, gesturing towards the picnic he had set up.

A strange feeling fluttered in your stomach, and you brought up a hand to press up against it reflexively. He had arranged all of this... for you?

"Oh, wow." Was your response, the butterflies in your stomach hard to ignore.

Your reaction was hard to decipher and it made Jungkook incredibly anxious. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "Well, let's go, nerd."

You followed Jungkook over to the picnic scene, sliding off your shoes before stepping onto the blanketed spot, flopping down with an excited giggle. You had been toying with the tassels of one of the pillows near you when Jungkook pulled out a small portable radio for the basket, a word of approval leaving your lips. He really did think of everything, didn't he?

"How did you even find this place?" You marvel as he fiddled with the radio dial, flipping through stations until he found one he was content with.

"I went to a photography club meeting and they mentioned this place being a good spot for sunset shots."

You had taken note a little wooden popsicle stick poking up from the soil of the yellow flowers. Acacias, they were marked. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you considering his words.

"You went to a photography club meeting? Wait, are you–"

"I'm considering switching majors, yeah." He cut you off, leaning back away from the radio and taking a seat beside you.

"Not even!" You gaped.

"It's not that big of a deal." He shrugged nonchalantly. He was only changing his entire career path because you had told him you believed in him. No biggie, right?

"It's huge news, I mean, you're taking the initiative and pursuing your passion. I'm amped for you." You grinned to which Jungkook couldn't help but return, reaching into the picnic basket to pull out your sandwiches.

The two of you sat beside each other comfortably, washing your food down with sips from your respective juice boxes, which Jungkook had so endearingly provided. You hummed along to the radio as the sun slowly started its descent down the sky.

Suddenly, Jungkook cleared his throat, a clear sign that he was asking for your attention.

"So, you probably know why I brought you here."

You nodded.

"You're proposing, right?"

"Yeah, I– oh, shut up." He laughed, the serious mood shattering as you joined him.

“No, I just really wanted to apologize for the way I behaved at your event. I acted on impulse and wasn't thinking past my... raging man ego or whatever." Jungkook sighed, eyes meeting yours earnestly. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, eager to hear him out.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I would never want to do anything to hurt my best friend and I know how hard you worked on this event and— why are you looking at me like that?” He huffed, cutting himself off mid-apology.

“You just called me your best friend.” You beamed, cheeks round.

Jungkook felt himself redden, turning away from your admittedly adorable expression.

“Yeah. So?”

“That’s so cute.” You fawned. “And you did all this for me. You can be really sweet when you want to be, you know.”

Jungkook wasn’t used to this kind of doting affection being directed at him, much less coming from you of all people. He swatted away your hand that had reached out to pinch his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, just zip it before I demote you back down to classroom acquaintance.”

You hummed contentedly, “I accept your apology. And for what it's worth, I also consider you to be one of my best friends.”

"Ouch, just one of them? That's cold." Jungkook pouted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Sorry, Yara's got spot number one on lock." You shrugged, bringing your juice box to your mouth as you took a sip. "Chicks before dicks."

"Fine, but tell me I'm at least best friend number two."

"Hmm..." You tapped at your chin, pretending to think about your response.

"What the hell? Who could possibly be before me? Taehyung?...Kiri?" Jungkook teased.

At the sound of Kiri's name, you physically tensed, something Jungkook didn't fail to notice.

"...Yep, definitely Kiri." You played along half-heartedly.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" You straightened up suddenly, turning towards the boy. "You told me Kiri left you for Eunwoo, right?"

"Yeah... Why?"

"Oh. Well, I dunno, I heard from someone that you and Kiri were actually broken up at the time." You fiddled with your fingers anxiously, choosing to omit the fact that his ex-girlfriend had been your source of information.

The long-haired boy stared at you for a moment, expression unreadable as he took in your uneasy state.

"Well. Yeah. We weren't together." He answered finally, causing your stomach to drop.

Wait... Kiri had told the truth?

"But you said she left you for him? You lied to me." You breathed in disbelief.

"Hold on, I didn't lie." He pressed, brows furrowing at your words. "Yes, we weren't together, but we weren't broken up either?"

You flashed him a confused look, urging him to explain further.

He let out a sigh, stretching out his legs in front of him, "We had been arguing a lot, like more than usual, so we both agreed to take a break from each other– nothing permanent, just some time apart where we didn't see each other every day like we had been. The morning before I met you, however, I was coming down one of the halls at the Beta Tau Sigma house when I caught her sneaking out of Eunwoo's room. She broke up with me before I even got to say a single word. So yeah. She left me for Eunwoo."

You felt your shoulders fall, body relaxing at this new information.

"Oh."

"I was going to take her out for dinner that same day too. Clearly, we were on different pages on what this break was supposed to be for. Any other questions?" Jungkook quirked an eyebrow up at you pointedly, and suddenly you were filled with guilt.

Was this whole thing really just one giant miscommunication between the two? Kiri under the impression that they were broken up while Jungkook wasn’t? Jeez, you really jumped the gun there, didn't you?

"Ah, shit... Well, now I feel like a total wastoid for accusing you of lying." You expressed your regret, poking a finger into his thigh sheepishly.

Jungkook gave you a once over before chuckling, a hand reaching out to take your face between his fingers as he squeezed your cheeks.

"Say you're sorry."

"'M s’rry!" Your muffled words came through squished lips causing him to giggle.

"Say 'Gosh, Jungkook! You're such an honest and wonderful person. I'm a fool for ever doubting you.’'" He smirked. You rolled your eyes, face having grown sore.

"Asshole, let m’go! M'cheeks hurt!"

Thankfully, he granted your request, freeing your cheeks from their state of enslavement so that you could rub at them woefully.

"You're a child." You scowled.

"You sound like Kiri." Jungkook reminisced, recalling how his ex-girlfriend often said those very words.

"Yeah, well, soon enough it'll be her saying that instead of me." You joked.

The joke fell flat, failing to earn even a smile from him.

"Nah," he replied coldly, "like you said, if she wanted me back, she'd already have come back."

You cursed internally. You had completely forgotten you had spat that out while scolding Jungkook for nearly going apeshit on Eunwoo, and once again, you were left feeling shitty.

"Hey, I said that out of frustration, I didn't really mean it. I'm sure she'll come crawling back soon." You attempted to comfort him, hoping to sound sincere.

"Even if that's true, I'm not entirely sure I want that anymore."

"What?" You blinked. Jungkook shrugged.

"What about us?" He met your eyes, causing your breath to hitch.

"What about us?"

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, noting the way the timber in your voice had become higher pitched as if panicked.

"Yara told me how you'd be really bummed if you lost me once Kiri and I got back together. But Y/N, Kiri is going to think you're my ex-girlfriend... there's just no way she'd be okay with me hanging out with you. I don't know if I want to get back together with her if it's going to hurt you..."

The chirps of nearby birds slowly fizzed into a dull hum, drowned out by the deafening pounding of your heart.

Your face felt hot. When you told Yara all that stuff about how fond you had grown of Jungkook, you had been notably drunk from Roommate Wine Night, uncharacteristically vulnerable and in your head. Even so, you didn't think that Yara was gonna go and tell him.

She was so dead.

But what the hell was he saying? He would give up on Kiri just so you didn't have to lose him? He'd give up what he wanted just for you?

"Idiot." You scoffed suddenly, taking him by surprise. "Who cares about me? Yes, I'll probably be really sad that we don't get to hang out anymore but, whatever, I'll get over it. I got my event. You're going to get your end of the deal too, I'll make sure of it."

Your determination was hard set in your eyes which held his pensive ones.

"Kiri will come back, okay? Like, c'mon! She knows she can't do better than you."

Jungkook shot you an insincere smile, "Ah, I'm not so sure she thinks that's true anymore."

"Stop. Listen to me, Jungkook, you're a fucking great guy, okay? You're charismatic and funny and care about your friends... sure, you almost ruined my event, but it was mostly to defend my best friend when Eunwoo got too pushy, right? You're a good guy, meathead. I know I joke about your ego, but I really believe you're capable of more than you think you are. Seriously, Kiri is so lucky to be the object of your affection."

Jungkook watched the way the sun's orange light kissed your face, a bittersweet feeling growing in his chest as he contemplated the object of his affection. Just a couple of months ago, he would have had no doubt about who held his heart, but as you held his stare, he found himself unsure and yet, entirely sure all the same.

“Jungkook? You okay?” You frowned, catching in the sadness in his eyes.

“Hm? Yeah, yeah. I just… realized something.”

“Oh? What's that?”

“...It doesn't matter.” He smiled, the gesture hardly reaching his eyes.

You looked at him for a moment, skepticism evident in those beautiful eyes of yours that reflected the sky's deepening orange and red colors. Jungkook felt like he was sinking into them. Burying himself further and further into a hole that he was unaware had even existed until now and he was in too deep to pull himself back up.

"Kiss me." He spoke softly, making your eyes grow wide. "Please."

There was a note of melancholy to his tone, unlike you had ever heard come from him before. You fought back to urge to dissect it further, choosing instead to oblige his request and press your mouth into his, the thought that he was holding you tighter than usual failing to cross your mind.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Hey, hey, hey, hey! What is going on here?”

Yara giggled at the television show, popping a chip into her mouth, the crunching sound pulling you from the thought that had been occupying your mind. Tugging at scrunchie you had on your wrist, you searched for the right way to go about sharing your feelings.

“Yara?”

“Yeah?” The girl in question responded, eyes still fixated on the ever so charming A.C. Slater.

“...Nevermind.” You retracted, shaking your head dismissively.

And just like that, the Saved By The Bell episode was entirely forgotten, Yara's hands taking purchase on your shoulders.

“Bitch, you already have my attention, don’t just blue balls me like that.” She whined, shaking you slightly. You turned away from her curious eyes.

“It’s just… ah, seriously, nevermind, I’m pretty sure I’m just up in my head.” You shrugged her off, leaning back into the couch.

Your best friend watched your suddenly indifferent presence with pursed lips, not buying it for a second.

“You’re gonna ask about Jungkook, right?”

You turned towards Yara, suspicious written all over your narrowed eyes, “How did you know that?”

“I’m a mind reader.” She rolled her eyes passively, turning back to the television. “So, what’s up?”

“I dunno, I just feel like things are so... different between us.”

At your revelation, Yara’s eyes flicked back over to you, “Bad different?”

“No. It’s actually kind of nice. I think.” You frowned, trying to make sense of your thoughts.

“So... good different.” Yara concluded.

“It’s just funny. When I look at the start this whole deal between Jungkook and me—”

“You mean back when you and Jungkook weren’t going at it like animals and having secret rooftop picnics?”

You held her stare for a moment, teeth sinking down into your bottom lip.

“Yeah. Things are so different. I remember a time where I couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him and now…”

"And now you're completely infatuated with him." She sympathized, shaking her head sadly.

“W-What? What the hell are you yapping about? I was gonna say that I actually think of him as a close friend.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Yara let out a breath, her hand placing itself on your head.

“Poor, poor stupid Y/N.” She patted it with a sad look. “How blind you are.”

You swatted your best friend’s hand away, “Get your grubby paws off of me, weirdo. I do not like Jungkook!”

There was an uncomfortable feeling in your throat as you said those words; you swallowed it down immediately.

“Seriously? Y/N, you’re whipped for that kid. Big time.”

“I thought I told you to lay off the crack.” You deadpanned.

“Funny.” Yara glared. “Seriously though, you guys are walking around in a fake relationship while having real feelings for each other and real sex. If anyone’s trippin', it’s you two.”

“Okay, just because people have sex doesn’t mean feelings are always involved.” You scoffed.

“Oh girl, you don’t have to tell that to me, my emotionally constipated ass knows that better than anyone.” Yara mused before shaking her head. “But it’s different with you guys. I see the way you light up whenever he’s near. It’s totally palpable the way you two yearn for each other.”

That wasn't true, wasn't it? Sure, you did notice yourself thinking about him whenever you weren't with him, but wasn't that just because he was a friend? Don't friends usually wonder what the other is doing whenever they're apart? Didn't friends spend hours thinking about the time they spent with each other after they parted?

Suddenly, you felt nauseous.

“Fuck.” You breathed out.

Yara pressed her lips together, taking in the way you suddenly looked like you were one second away from barfing into the bowl of popcorn you had on your lap. She had a reasonably strong guess as to what exactly was running through your mind at this very moment.

"Wanna hear something funny?" She said finally, offering you a change of subject should you take it.

"Yes, please." Was your weak reply.

“I’ve fucked Eunwoo. Eunwoo has fucked Kiri. Kiri has fucked Jungkook, and Jungkook has fucked you."

You blinked, "Yeah?"

"Hello!" Yara exclaimed, "Isn’t that wild? It’s like one big orgy!”

A sharp snort left your nose, sufficiently amused.

"Only one thing left to do for this love chain to come full circle." Yara's eyes suddenly grew mischievous, scooting in closer to you.

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"We gotta get it on, baby!" Yara waggled her eyebrows suggestively, sending you into a round of laughter. She grinned back at you. "Why are you laughing? You don't think I could rock your world?"

"I think you're insane and need to get laid by someone who isn't me." You reasoned, nudging your shoulder into hers.

"Ugh, you're probably right." She sighed in defeat. You knew Yara well enough that this was her attempt to distract you and make you feel better, and honestly, it had worked. For the most part.

You let out a sigh of your own, leaning over to rest the side of your head against hers.

"Do you really think I like Jungkook?" You asked quietly.

Yara let out a contemplative hum as if considering her reply before speaking.

"Honestly, what I think doesn't really matter. What matters is how you feel, you know?"

"Yeah," you exhaled, biting the inside of your cheek as a sinking feeling of understanding finally washed over you, "I think I do."

[lettheladylead]

(I think I might be falling in love with you.) #Scroldie

(my usual warning for the concept of sex but theres nothing nsfw lol)

Scrooge grabbed the next ledge, ignoring Goldie’s sarcastic pleas for him to hurry up. He knew he was close - closer than anyone had ever been before - and he was going to savor the moment.

He pulled himself up to the top of the stalagmite and briefly turned away as the shining glow of the gemstone in front of him pierced his eyes. After a moment of composure, he turned back and took in the treasure in all its glory.

Without hesitation, Scrooge reached forward and pulled the tiny stone off its perch, too enchanted by the beauty to consider any consequences. Fortunately for him and his partner, nothing seemed to change, and Scrooge squeezed the gem in his palm as he looked down at the blonde below.

Goldie waved up at him. “Did you get it?”

He nodded and shook his hand that was holding the stone. “Did I set off any traps?”

She looked around herself to check for monsters or living statues or demons or anything of the sort. Nothing in sight, Goldie just shrugged. “Doesn’t look like it. Probably means the mysterious legends aren’t true, then,” she said with a sarcastic drawl.

Scrooge shrugged, undeterred by her pessimism. He was hoping beyond hope that the legends were true, since they weren’t mysterious to him. He’d come across detailed information about what exactly the diamond would bestow upon its holder and conveniently failed to mention it to Goldie. Just in case it was true.

He slid down the stalagmite and came to a graceful stop not too far from the woman on his mind. He looked at her seriously and then down at the gem in his hand.

Goldie crossed her arms over her chest. “So are there supposed to be any other treasures in this cave or am I just gonna nab that from you later?”

“The Agartha Diamond lives alone,” Scrooge quoted, taking another step closer to her. “That’s what the inscription said, at least.”

She rolled her eyes. “This was a lot of work for one little diamond. Are you gonna pay me for all my help, Moneybags?”

Scrooge smiled and rolled his eyes, too, but then moved his focus back to the gem. He moved it around in his palm and stared right at his partner.

“Why is he looking at me like that?”

Scrooge’s smile grew wider as the sound of Goldie’s voice hit his ears despite the fact that she hadn’t opened her mouth. He grabbed his water bottle to take a drink and avoid answering the question she’d actually said.

“Maybe he’s getting in the mood. I’d be down for some cave sex.”

He spit out his entire sip, getting his bag wet and making Goldie yelp and shove away from him.

“What? What’s wrong?!” she said quickly, looking at her own bottle.

Scrooge shook his head and punched his chest lightly. “N-nothin’, nothin’! Just, um...down the wrong pipe!”

She glared and glanced at his bottle, looking like she didn’t believe him. “Don’t waste your water, I’m not giving you any of mine!”

“I can’t believe how much that scared me.”

Scrooge glanced at her as she turned around to pack up her tools they’d used since getting to that part of the cave. He knew the gem would let him hear the thoughts of the person closest to him while he held it in his palm. He didn’t know what exactly to do with that power. Being able to read Goldie O’Gilt’s mind was a treasure of its own - a priceless gift that could help him avoid betrayal or perhaps even...understand her a little better.

His father always told him that women were impossible to understand, but Goldie was different. She was purposefully difficult in ways that other people weren’t. Sometimes he could barely make sense of her ulterior motives, he just knew there always was one.

She sighed and turned towards him again. “Why are you staring at me?”

He blinked as her thoughts lined up with her words for once. “...I want to ask you somethin’.”

“Then ask me already.”

Scrooge took a deep breath as he considered his choice of words. “Would you want to come with me on my next adventure?”

“Yes, yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

“Will there be more treasure for me to take?” she answered with a frown. “Otherwise I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Scrooge felt his heart race at the way she reacted in her head. Her excitement was contagious and he felt an urge to kiss her.

“Mmm…” Scrooge hummed. “There should be. More than this one, at least. But if you’re not interested, I’m sure I can find someone else to help me.”

“Oh absolutely not.”

“Don’t go jumping to conclusions, Scroogey. But before I agree to our next trip, how about we make it out of this one?” Goldie said as she strapped her backpack back over her shoulders. “Now let me see the diamond! I didn’t even get a glance.”

Scrooge squeezed the gem tighter into his palm. “How do I know you won’t just grab it and run off, hm? Safer to keep it out of your sight.”

“As if that could stop me,” Goldie responded with a smirk.

“God he is irritating. I wish he’d just shut up and kiss me already.”

He paused and considered that for a moment. Goldie was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a hand on her hip and he glanced from his closed fist to her face and back again.

Well...he couldn’t just ignore a request like that, could he?

A moment later, Scrooge closed the gap between them and gently grabbed the side of her face with his free hand, pulling her break to his. She seemed genuinely surprised by the act but quickly kissed him back, moved her hands to his shoulders to squeeze the fabric of his jacket and pull him closer.

“Finally something goes my way,” he heard Goldie think as she deepened the kiss. His heart was racing even faster as he realized the intense intimacy of hearing someone’s thoughts while being physical with them.

“If he keeps this up, I’ll follow him anywhere.”

That time, Scrooge deepened the kiss, shoving her against the nearest cavern wall. She groaned and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“God, I love him, I love him, I-”

Unable to stop himself, Scrooge moved his previously closed hand to her waist, not noticing that the gem had slipped away from him. Her thoughts were cut off and the small sound of the stone hitting the floor made both adventurers pause.

Goldie was breathing heavily and Scrooge leaned down to briefly peck her beak with his a few times. She smiled as he did and opened her eyes to reveal a lusty expression.

Scrooge didn’t need the gem to figure that one out. But before he did, he wanted to clear some air. He moved away from her to grab the diamond off the ground and stood back up, holding it out so she could see it.

Goldie glanced down and shrugged. “It’s not much to look at.”

He shook his head. “You should try holdin’ it.”

With a confused expression, Goldie reached over and grabbed it, surprised by his change of heart. A little make-out session and suddenly he was trusting her? That wasn’t how they usually danced.

“I’m fallin’ in love with you.”

Goldie blushed deeply and stared at Scrooge’s beak, knowing for a fact that he didn’t say that out loud, but she distinctly heard it in his voice. She looked down at the diamond and then back up at him.

“I know you heard that. I wanted you to.”

She blinked. “I...is it…” She held up the diamond. “...mind-reading?”

Scrooge nodded, reaching out to take the gem back from her.

Goldie was faster, though, and held it against her heart. “So you were...listening to my thoughts. For the past ten minutes?”

“Give or take,” he said softly, grabbing her free hand. “You didnae think anythin’ you wouldnae have said out loud, lass.”

“Except that you love me.”

Her cheeks were bright red and she felt an unfamiliar anxiety prickling all around her. She couldn’t look Scrooge in the eyes as she tried to go over her thoughts for the last few minutes. How sappy and pathetic could she have possibly been in such a short amount of time?

“Y-you know...that’s a terrible invasion of privacy!” Goldie stammered, trying to sound angry but mostly sounding embarrassed. Which made her even more embarrassed.

“Says the walking invasion of privacy.”

“Feel free to listen to my thoughts, then,” Scrooge offered genuinely. “Unlike you, Goldie Girl, I’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

She scoffed and finally made eye contact to glare at him properly. “You call it hiding, I call it none of your business.”

“Loving me is none of my business?”

She blushed harder at his thoughts and angrily tossed the gem to the side. Scrooge watched its descent and reached down for it when Goldie grabbed his wrist and tugged him back towards her.

“I’ve heard enough from you already. Now get back over here, you condescending old sourdough!”

Scrooge hesitated for only a moment as he thought about grabbing the diamond, but decided that Goldie’s open arms were much more inviting. He had to finish what he’d started, after all, and there were some things he didn’t need to have telepathy to understand.

As their beaks crashed together again, he smiled and pulled her as close as possible. She loved him, and he wouldn’t let her live that down anytime soon.

[writerwrites]

Yuánfèn | 05

Ch. 5: L'esprit de Escalier: “The feeling after leaving a conversation where you can’t help but think about all the things you should have said.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Chapter Word Count: 4.3k Chapter Warnings: Slow burn, anxiety and shock related to elevator failure incident, small mention of Steve’s minor injuries from the initial Ultron fight in the Tower, small mentions of two idiots being horny and doing nothing about it because re: idiots

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Complete Masterlist

“You look…” She trailed off, eyes bright as they met Steve’s.

“I look like what? You don’t like the blue?” He tugged on the collar of the blue button up he’d put on for Tony’s party as he laughed nervously. His smile was almost one of shy boyishness as he looked tenderly at the familiar woman in the small bed, relieved she was lucid. He’d asked Sharon to keep him in the loop and she hadn’t had a single clear day when he was in Spain.

“I was going to say tired. When’s the last time you slept?” Her aged hands reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and Steve quickly stepped over to help her. “The blue looks nice, but you know I’ll always prefer you in a uniform.” He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks.

“It’s been a few days, but knowing Stark, I probably won’t get any sleep tonight either.” Steve realized he was holding back, Peggy noticing it too when he paced around the end of the bed with his hands on his hips. “Like father, like son, I guess. Big party tonight. Tony even joked that he’d invited some of our old friends, so just wait until I’m back to let you in on whether or not we had some other vets there.”

“Hmm,” She smiled and watched him, “I wouldn’t put it past Stark at all...and did you find a new dance partner?”

Steve felt like he should've known that she would figure out why he came before he could pluck up the courage to ask Peggy to help him talk through his feelings. Sam was a great listener but there wasn’t anyone left that really knew him, not like Peggy did. Even with Natasha invested in his romantic life, she didn’t understand why he was so hesitant to try something new. With a nod, he sat in the chair next to Peggy’s bed, pulling it in closer. She smiled at him, reaching her hand out for him and he didn’t hesitate to take it, “I didn’t ask anyone to Stark’s party, but she’ll be there.”

There was a long quiet between the two of them. Steve wondered if he’d hurt her by mentioning you or whether Peggy was trying to find the right questions to ask. It wasn’t a painful silence, their hands staying together, fingers laced through like they were making the most of their time together and, in a way, they were. Periodically they would steal a glance at one another, smile softly, and settle back into their thoughts. Eventually, Peggy would break the silence, but not how he’d expected. “What are you still waiting for, Steve?” His thumb paused in its rhythmic brushing over the loose, translucent and speckled skin. “Burdening yourself with things you can’t change is no way to live.”

Though he nodded in agreement, Steve bit his tongue. There was so much that felt unfair, complicated. He let Peggy change the conversation, reminisce about old Stark parties and music from the forties, but Steve fought to be present and enjoy this rare moment with her. Was it fair to tell you he had feelings for you when he still loved Peggy, even if he couldn’t have her? You both had your own baggage, so could you find happiness together without working through that first independently? These were the same questions that had been running through his head every night he’d been back at the Tower. He had sat up, notebook in hand, and tried to write through it, but only ended up staring at the sketches of you asleep on his chest. He wanted to say there was happiness in Spain, but the silence since returning to New York felt like he had misread the situation. Instead of talking through it, he pressed a kiss to Peggy’s forehead and told her he’d be back as soon as he could, making no promises to dance with that new dance partner.

Your ears were still ringing when Sam picked you up off of the elevator floor. He had shouted over the sound of fighting far overhead and your own screams every time the elevator moved, but it hadn’t started in complete chaos. At first it seemed like a power surge, the elevator falling a few floors. JARVIS didn’t respond and then, after a little bit of waiting all hell broke loose. I got you, that was all he kept shouting as he pinned you in a corner of the elevator, arms wrapped around you while you wondered how many floors it would take to plummet to a certain death. In the minutes of peace between the first serious fall and the second, Sam still held you as he tapped on his smartwatch to call for help. The snapping sound of the elevator cables, clang of something heavy and metal clamoring through the elevator shaft and denting the roof, the squeal of the elevator breaks struggling to stop the lift from another terrifying descent. Needless to say, Sam’s message went unanswered. With Sam pressed against you and both of your bodies losing weight in the third descent you worried about the team, certain that it had to be exceptionally bad if whoever was responsible managed to get into Stark Tower.

Somehow the breaks held long enough for Sam to pry the doors open. The entire experience left you shaking in fear and even though the voice in your head was saying you were in shock, you couldn’t make yourself move from the curled up position in the corner of the elevator. It left Sam tasked with picking you up and using his adrenaline to carry you up the three flights of stairs back to your office as your body kept shaking in his arms. You couldn’t be sure if the ringing in your ears made the stairwell seem uncomfortably quiet or if the hell you two had just escaped was all in your head.

“Doc, I need to check on the team. I’ll be right back, just keep the door closed and…” He looked around your office, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, brought your bag to you and set it at your feet. “Your phone’s in here? I’ll be right back.” Even with tear-blurred vision you could see the concern in his dark eyes and the turmoil of leaving you, so you nodded because your teeth were chattering and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Sam pulled the soft blanket from the back of your couch over your shoulders, “I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t matter if he’d been gone five minutes or ten or even twenty, you spent the entire time with a racing heart. Every little sound set you off into a fit of tears that would choke up after your racing brain tried to logic yourself into calming techniques and there were sounds, screaming and banging. With your face buried in your knees and your body completely racked with exhaustion you lost all track of time, your mind pinballing between replaying the elevator’s descent, your need for sleep, fits of panic and calm, and even the horrible moments where you’d been in a cold basement identifying the remains of your family members years earlier. What you hadn’t been thinking about was getting your head in the game and following Sam to the frontline to patch up the team.

Sam came back, as promised, but he wasn’t alone. The sound footsteps in the hall had you sobbing into your knees, rocking back and forth as you tried to not imagine the worst. “Hey you,” Steve whispered, his warm breath hitting your arm moments before he took your hands in his. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” His warm hands brushed up your arms and pulled gently to untangle you from the ball you’d put yourself in. “Let’s go home, okay? Let’s get you out of here.”

Picking your head up a little, you looked around the room, the light was on and your office looked completely unchanged. Sam was standing behind Steve watching you, looking far more put together than you were as you caught sight of your own reflection and immediately looked away. You hadn’t seen yourself in such a state since the Chitauri attack and it wasn’t a trauma you wanted to relive. Slowly you turned your gaze to Steve and his thumbs immediately brushed away the damp on your cheeks. With a sniffle you asked, “Is it over?” The rasp in your voice gave away that you’d been screaming in the elevator or maybe it was from all the crying afterward. That logical voice in the back of your head tried to push forward again as you tried to box up your own feelings,  “Is the team okay? Do they need me?”

“Nah, we’re getting you out of here, Doc. The big brain idiots can deal with their mess.” Sam’s tone was brotherly but firm, no room to tell him you could handle the truth about whatever happened at the party.

When Steve tried to help you up your legs wobbled and you nearly fell. Quickly wrapping his arms around your waist, he steadied you. “It’s a lot of stairs, honey. Let’s just think about this for a minute.”

“Between the two of us we could get her down to the garage.” Sam offered as he watched you stare at Steve’s feet while you tried to steady your breathing, unaware that the reason you were trying to calm yourself down now had more to do with the proximity to the super soldier that just called you a pet name.

“You’ve been through hell tonight too, Sam.” Steve may have been talking to Sam but his attention was on you, how your arms were still pulled close to your chest and your whole body was shaking. “You both can crash here at the Tower. There’s a spare room next to mine. She can have mine, it’ll be fine. We can make it work. That’s a few floors down, we’ll manage if you can just carry her bag for her.”

“Steve,” you started with your head already shaking ‘no’ but you couldn’t be sure if you were saying no to staying in the Tower or kicking him out of his bed, probably the former. It wasn’t lost on that noisy logical part of your brain that your body seemed to have settled on freeze rather than fight or flight, but that sliver of rational brain seemed to focus on the fact that if someone got into the Tower once that they could do it again.

“I promise, you’re safe. You just hold on to me.” Effortlessly, Steve picked you up and pulled you to his chest. Wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles behind him, you buried your face in Steve’s neck. Your arms draped around his neck but as they walked you through the Tower to the level with the Avengers’ apartments you relaxed, albeit just a little.

You had only been on this floor a handful of times and if anyone was watching you cling to Steve like a baby björn, you were too busy trying to remember to breathe to notice. In fact, you hardly even noticed Steve and Sam talking along the way or the conversation about showers, clothes, and breakfast in the morning. What you did notice was the circles Steve was pressing into your spine as he talked casually to Sam. He took his time to head next door to his room and what may have seemed like casual chit chat to Sam or even appeared like Steve being a bit of a moving, physical talker felt like you were being gently rocked into a less panicked state. Slowly, Steve had somehow lulled you into the headspace you were in once he joined you in Spain, the weight of emotions washing away in the familiar smell of his body wash and clothes. 

If the sound of a door closing and the quiet that ensued wasn’t an indication that you were now in Steve’s room it was the smell of the place, just as lovely and welcoming. As Steve leaned forward to set you down on the bed you instinctively clung more tightly to him. He straightened up and you felt the rumble of him holding back a laugh before he sighed and gave in, walking into his bathroom and setting you down on the sink. Absolutely refusing to let go of the small comfort that had numbed the terror of the evening may have been the main reason for your behavior, but there was also the fact that you didn’t want to acknowledge your bundle of insecurities. So, for a moment longer at least, you stayed right there holding on to him. “So this is how it’s going to be?” Steve brushed his fingers through your hair as you nodded into his chest. “Well, I’m not sure how comfortable you’re going to be trying to sleep in this dress and my shirt’s pretty torn up after the fight.”

The fight… For the first time since you stepped onto that elevator you really looked at him. Your legs slowly loosened their grip on his waist and Steve helped you reach the ground, even if it was just by the tips of your toes because he pinned you between his body and the counter of the bathroom sink. Even in the warm golden glow of the bathroom you could see that he was already healing from a good hit to the face. Your palm went to his cheek and he covered it in his own as if to tell you he was okay. Maybe you were going to ask him if he was, but all you managed to say was one shaky, half whispered, “Stay?”

Steve felt selfish for even thinking, hoping really, that you would ask, but he wanted to stay with you. He wanted to keep you safe and finally get some sleep himself. Instead of asking if you were sure, he found a confession passing his own lips in the same hushed tone, “I haven’t slept since we got back from the villa.”

The sound of your breath hitching, your surprise and exasperation, would’ve been unnoticed by the average person, but it might as well have been on a loudspeaker with the super soldier serum in his veins. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you tried to unpack the weight of what you were feeling with those words, with the pet name he’d used before he scooped you up. Somewhere between being both understood and hurt that neither of you had managed to say as much in three days. Your head was clouded by his words and your body seemed to forget that lungs needed air to breathe as his hands were back firmly on your hips. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I missed you. I should’ve checked on you.”

Steve hushed you, a welcome end to what you knew would’ve been a word vomit rambling monologue of you unpacking whatever you were feeling. Your eyes met and you wanted to lean forward just a little and see what it was like to kiss him, to see if he would reciprocate, but the panic settled back in your bones and you scolded yourself for even entertaining the thought, gaze falling back to the floor. As you came down from the jittery terror of the elevator and the high of being held by him you remembered the sting of Tony’s speech at the party. To his world, you were certain that he saw you as nothing more than a silly girl with a silly crush.

When you withdrew into yourself again, Steve assumed you were trying to figure out how to ask for some privacy. It had been a long night and even though he thought you were still beautiful with makeup mussed from crying, he didn’t want to put more emotions on the pressure of the day. His thumbs brushed over your hips and he took a step back toward the door. “Take a shower and I’ll pull some clothes for you. I’m going to run down to the gym and take a quick shower there myself and then we’ll forget this day happened and get some sleep.”

He looked down at your hands, fingers now wrapping tightly around his pinky and ring finger. Steve wasn’t sure what you stopping him from walking away meant, but he was too scared to ask. While you had been the first person to understand him on a deeper level since he came out of the ice, you were still from a generation that was much more upfront sexually than he was. As much as he wanted you, that wasn’t something he could just walk into without clear boundaries and commitment. For you, your reluctance to let him go was too embarrassing to put into words, you kept your eyes on your linked hands rather than his face, terrified to find a look of pity or something less emotional written there. You spoke to your hands, giving them a gentle squeeze when you asked, “How long will I be up here alone?”

Tilting his head to the side, the Avenger realized what you meant and he visibly relaxed, “Full of surprises.” With those words, your words, a call to your trip to Spain, you managed to look up at him. When your eyes met you both managed soft, understanding smiles. “Ten minutes tops, put a timer on your phone. If you hear any clanging around it’s Tony fixing the elevator. I promise, you’re safe, okay? We’ve got everything under control and no one, especially me, will let anything happen to you.” It may have been what you needed to hear to let your hands fall from his, but it didn’t change the fact that after Tony’s speech you doubted that anyone was going to rush to save you. Whether Steve really realized that or not was another issue entirely, but you bit your tongue, nodded, and watched him leave.

10… You turned the knob of the shower and looked through the glass at your clothes on the floor. It felt like another life when Steve stammered over complimenting you in the dress and just as you replayed that moment in your mind your brain tugged at the latter events of the evening. You ducked your head under the hot stream of water to try and rinse everything away as your fried nerves seemed to be so eager to push you back into that shaken state.

9… He hissed as the water poured into the small cuts on his back and scalp while his gaze moved to the pile of clothes on the bench next to the shower. Another party, another missed opportunity to steal a dance with a girl he couldn’t get off his mind. The part of him that still loved Peggy was beginning to feel like someone else. He paused under the water, cringing as the water pressure made the fresh bruises on his back throb. The man had no idea how to string a sentence together around either of the two of them.

8… You paused, savoring the smell of Steve’s body wash coating your skin. Immediately, you wanted to run back to him, to the safety that you always found in his arms. The rapid pulse fluttering in your chest neither complete panic or complete anticipation. You only knew that it had more to do with him than the fear of any attack on the Tower.

7… He quickly rinsed off the bubbles of soap, eyes pressed tightly closed as he tried not to picture your bare silhouette through the foggy glass of his shower. That muscle twitched with want and neglect at the thought of the hot water running down your body, the same one that had clung to him for nights on end.

6… Wrapping your arms around yourself under the cascade of water, you pushed away the thoughts creeping into your mind as you became more aware of how alone you were in his space. You tried to remember to breathe, relax, find one happy moment in the day to say it was a day worth surviving. Safety was just a few minutes away, you repeated over and over in your head, but the hot water didn’t seem to be able to reach the cold in your bones.

5… Clearing his throat, he toweled off and practically ran back to his room. Circumnavigating the way he overthought every moment with you until he was back in his room, focusing on the reality of you asking him to stay.

4… You froze, staring at your reflection in his mirror, when you heard the door to the bedroom open and the movement just a few feet away on the other side of the door. The sun-kissed bare-faced reflection looking back looked exhausted, anxious, a weak and fragile stranger.

3… Steve pulled on his clothes quickly in case you came out to see who had walked into the room. Then he grabbed his favorite crewneck sweater, a bit worn in so that it’s once rich-blue color had faded just a little. The sweatpants he piled on top were his only ones with a decent drawstring, which he hoped would help them from falling off of you. As he reached for a pair of socks he remembered how much you hated them, always trying to keep your cold feet off of him in the night and ultimately wiggling out of them on instinct just a few minutes after you were actively asleep.

2… With a sheepish smile you reached a hand out of the bathroom when you heard the knock and tried to take his clothes without dropping his towel- which you couldn’t seem to wrap tightly enough around your curves. Yawning, you dressed as quickly as possible. Grabbing your dirty party ensemble, you caught a glimpse of your clothed reflection. It wasn’t just that you were swimming in his clothes, it was how different you looked with his sweater clinging to your damp skin and sweats threatening to slip lower on your hips- their width and the drawstring your only saving grace.

1… His mouth fell open when you walked out swimming in his clothes. You were too busy throwing your own in your bag to notice. There was no compromise to be had, Steve knew he could never ask for it back now.

Though he’d been laying on the bed, he swung his legs back over and went to stand up. Immediately worrying he was going to leave you panicked and asked, “Wait! Where are you going?”

His eyes stayed on you as he approached you slowly. When he reached you in just a few steps, Steve brushed his fingers through your hair, combing it out of your face. “I promised I wasn’t going anywhere and I-”

“Keep your promises. I know.” You smiled and nodded up at him. “But you also promised we were going to go to bed and forget this day ever happened.”

There was so much he wanted to try and explain, but just like he had with Peggy that morning, he fell silent. The last thing he wanted was for the first time he kissed you to be in a bed, it was why he’d stood up. Now he also didn’t want it to be in the Tower where you’d almost died an hour earlier or in a bedroom where you may have thought he was trying to take advantage of you. He lost his resolve, settling on waiting a little longer. Instead, he looked at you and focused on something small that had been bugging him all night. “I’m sorry you want to forget that today happened, but I understand. Tony can be a bit of an ass. I was really excited that he was going to finally give you the recognition you deserved as a member of the team. I appreciate everything Dr. Cho has done for us, but you’re the one taking care of us day in and day out.”

Throwing your arms around him, you hugged him more tightly than you ever had before. Your hands held his shirt in fists as you refused to let yourself cry anymore for the day. Steve didn’t hesitate to hold you back, rubbing those familiar circles down your spine. He knew that though he couldn’t find you in the crowd tonight he could perfectly picture the disappointment on your face at Tony’s slight and to his surprise it had made his temper flare a little. One thing Steve didn’t know about you though was that when you were completely tired or overly emotional you had a hard time processing in English and the muffled “Thank you” into his chest came out in your first language. That new little realization made him smile.

Pulling you to the bed, you climbed in after Steve and settled closely into his side as you always had. Like two pieces of the same puzzle, a perfect fit. Steve pulled the blankets over the two of you, turned off the light, and while one hand found yours and held it just below his chin, the other went under his sweater to your back. His large hands on your bare skin sent shivers down your spine. It was a welcome surprise that you thought might lead to something else, and you immediately hid your face at the stupidity of such a thought. Steve drew those little circles into your back again and, for the first time, he fell asleep first. The slow rise and fall of his chest, the cadence of his heartbeat, and you were quick to follow. You pressed your lips to his side and he hummed in his sleep and pulled you closer as you drifted off, a million things left unsaid.

A/N: You’re still here!? Thanks for reading Chapter 5! I never promised every chapter’s word would belong to Reader and in this one I think it may even belong more to Peggy than Steve. The over arching theme of Yuánfèn is about Steve and Reader though, don’t worry. I really appreciate you all being so kind and supportive of my little corner of Tumblr while I try to write consistently on a crazy schedule. Your comments and messages mean the world to me.

What do you think will happen when our favorite little idiots wake up in the morning?

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics​​​​​

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to one of my other tag lists.

[0itmelex0]

❛ i was worried something happened to you. ❜

moretz <3

moretz my beloved <3

It wasn’t a dangerous call. Well, it wasn’t a dangerous call from most firefighters’ opinions. A couple got into some sort of argument and it spiraled to where one was standing on their windowsill, threatening to jump. 

Most of the calls the 118 had gotten lately confused the hell out of Nole anymore. It felt like God was playing a sick joke, having so many calls that involved couples one way or another — so many within a week. Just throwing it in his face that he was single again. However, this call may have been a blessing in an odd disguise. Showing that maybe single life was actually the way to go.

The way they went about this call was typical to any other call that included a potential jumper standing on a window in a multistory building. And Nole volunteered before Bobby could say a name of who would be the one to put on the harness and climb down the building in order to kick the person back into the apartment.

“Just because you’re angry with Buck doesn’t mean you have to take your frustrations out during a call,” Bobby had remarked.

“Buck’s not here to do it like he usually does. Somebody has to do it.” retorted Nole, despite Bobby being dead to right over Nole’s reasoning of wanting to pull the risky move- a risky move he’d never done before.

And yet, within fifteen minutes, Nole was strapped in to make the quiet descent from the apartment right above the potential jumper.

Marcel was out on a run when he heard the sirens blare past him. Despite the firetruck and ambulance passing by like a blur- the number 118 caught his eye clear as day. He deviated from his usual running route to follow the vehicles as much as he could, maybe even be lucky enough to reach their destination. And he did.

People crowded the street, looking up from the base of the apartment building. They whispered of what was happening, even talking about the firefighters as they all left the firetruck and ambulance. Marcel cared little about what the call was about- what everybody was talking about. He made his way close to the front of the crowd, and an instant smile grew on his face as he caught a glimpse of Moretti on the back of one of the firefighter’s jackets whilst the firefighters rushed into the apartment building. 

He chewed down on his bottom lip momentarily before making his way back out of the crowd. And he waited. Getting just a minute or two in order to talk to Nole would be worth waiting around. Even if he had to wait around for an hour or more- Marcel wanted that chance to have a conversation with Nole Moretti. 

It felt as if hours went by before there was any noticeable change from above where the person on the ledge still stood. A figure came out of the window from the floor above the jumper. Marcel squinted. He didn’t even need to see the face or the crazy mop of hair to ‌tell the figure descending from above was none other than Nole. Chewing on his bottom lip, Marcel watched on with worry growing in his stomach.

Nole’s grip on the rope his harness connected to was tight. He kept a steady breath during the descent; he made sure his shoes didn’t scrape against the building. They couldn’t let the person on the ledge know he was there.

Firmly, he planted feet and waited for the word from Bobby. He was too busy within his thoughts to focus on the conversation going on below- or to even notice the dozens of people on the ground looking up at him.

Perhaps it was also a blessing in disguise that Oliver hadn’t let him return to work at the hospital yet. So much more free time outside of his shifts at the 118- even though he had all the time in the world since the tsunami. Even with the free time making him uneasy, he enjoyed being able to talk with Marcel Ortiz: the only person he’s felt like he could talk with ever since lawsuit Buck started. But despite Nole being mostly healed from his physical injuries from the tsunami, Oliver deemed Nole not mentally prepared to return to the hospital. Bobby would have said the same if he knew about Daniel and Giovanna.

“Nole-” Bobby’s voice crackled through the radio, “now.”

Nole spared one glance at Chimney above him before pushing himself off the wall. Pain sprouted from his leg. Harshly, he bit down on his tongue as he swung backwards in the air. The rope slacked just enough for him to lower a few feet and swing forward. He sharply inhaled as his feet slammed into the person’s chest and he sent them into the apartment. More pain grew in his leg.

The sight of Nole pulling the move took the air from Marcel’s lungs. In that moment of seeing Nole fly into the apartment after pushing the person in, Marcel wanted nothing more than to at least check on him. It felt like an eternity before the 118 came out of the building. By then, the crowd had mostly dispersed. But Marcel remained there.

“Nole!” Marcel blurted as he rushed up to him.

Nole was grumbling to himself, frustrated while looking off into nothing. Yet at the sound of Marcel’s voice, he felt better already. A gentle and surprised smile grew on his face as he looked at Marcel. “Oh, well hi there,” he tilts his head, “what are you doing here?”

Marcel didn’t realize how big his smile was and how much it grew while talking to Nole. “Was on a run and saw the engine. Got curious.” He chewed on his cheek and rubbed the back of his neck. “Then I saw you pull you that risky move and I was worried something happened to you. Wanted to wait a bit longer, to make sure you were good. Since, y’know, you’re just getting back into things.”

“Well,” Nole shrugged, “I’m good. You’re not the only one who can do risky moves, Orzo.” He held back his laughter at seeing Marcel roll his eyes from the nickname. “But I think I’m going to have to hold on just a little longer.”

“Oh?” Marcel’s head tilted to the side, lightly frowning.

“Bobby’s making me take more time off because of my leg.” A sigh left Nole. “He could tell it was acting up after I shoved the person back in the apartment- wouldn’t believe me when I told him it wasn’t. Now, I’m getting sent home once we get back to the station.”

“Nole!” Chimney hollered from the 118 firetruck. “Let’s go!”

Nole’s shoulders slouched forward, and he inhaled sharply. “Welp, see you around, Marcel.” He patted Marcel’s arm before making his way towards the truck where the 118 waited.

“Wait-” Marcel rushed forward and grabbed Nole’s forearm lightly “Do you, maybe want to hang out later? Since you’re being sent home. . . you’re going to have the rest of the day off and I already have the day off. So- but it’s cool if you don’t want to.”

He weakly laughed with his heart picking up speed as he watched an almost surprised Nole look back at him.

Nole’s smile grew. The nervous look in Marcel’s eyes was slightly amusing. “Yeah- that sounds nice. I’ll text you and we can figure out a plan.” He walked backwards towards the firetruck, feeling the happiest he’s felt since he broke up with Buck. “See you soon.”

The engine roared to life. Marcel didn’t blink until the bright red truck was out of his view. And even then, his eyes lingered and followed the sound of it until the sound of the city muddled it out. He finally exhaled, and his enormous smile grew. His phone vibrated in his hand. A text from Nole.

my place or yours? or we can meet up someplace else

Nobody heard the small giggle Marcel let slip as he bit down in his lip- not even himself.

mine? bring blanche her and milo should meet and i’ll be sure to make dessert what sounds good?

“Is it so hard to just send everything in one text?” Nole shook his head, grinning like a fool at his phone. He looked up, greeted by Hen, Chimney, and Eddie, all staring at him. “What?”

“You texting that Marcel kid?” Chimney gestured his head towards Nole’s phone. “You just saw him.”

“I plan on going to hang out with him since Cap is making me leave early. Got nothing else to do.”

“Hey-” Bobby spoke from the front. “-you know you’re not ready to come back yet either. Could see it on your face when you landed funny after that move. And maybe you should go see a doctor and make sure your leg has healed well.”

Nole looked down at his phone once more.

how about that tres leches thing you made before? you made it the first time i came over. i’ll be sure to bring blanche

Marcel responded almost instantly.

sounds good see you soon moretti :)

marcel ortiz belongs to @yellowr4nger

[featherymalignancy]

PART ONE — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ❤️

Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.

Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.

This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before. 

This is a two-part story, you can jump to Part Two here. ♥️ 

The Eyes of Texas, Part ONE

No matter how many times he made the journey, Rowan Whitethorn always found a wonder in returning home. He’d been glued to the window on the plane’s final descent into Maui three days ago, drinking in the sight of the Kahului Bay’s glittering waters and the distant peaks of Haleakalā rising up like silent guardians in the distance. It had only been six months since he’d last been home, but it still made his heart race; he doubted it would ever fail to take his breath away.

It had only gotten better when he’d landed and found not just Cash and Fen waiting for him, but Lorcan as well. The self-proclaimed success story of the friend group, Lor had gotten a full-ride to MIT and graduated with a 4.0 before being recruited to some tech giant in the Silicon Valley. It didn’t matter how times Rowan tried to point out that he himself had needed a recommendation from a US Senator to get into the Naval Academy; Lor would simply start rattling off college rankings and acceptance rates until Rowan conceded defeat just to shut him up. 

Even though they lived down the California coast from one another, Rowan rarely got to see Lor. So far as any of them could tell, Lorcan’s whole life was his job, and despite his obscene salary, he rarely took days off, let alone vacations. So for him to come to see Rowan play in the tournament--Ro didn’t think he needed to tell his friend what it meant to him. Not that it would have mattered if he had; the only thing Lor wasn’t good at was talking about his feelings. A likely culprit for why he didn’t have a girlfriend, considering their friend Essar had once dubbed him “the hottest man on all eight islands”. 

From the airport they’d driven across the island in Cash’s beater pick-up, Rowan in the cab and Lor and Fen riding in back. It had reminded Rowan of old times, of being 18 and carefree. It reminded him of life before his mom had died, before the Academy and his naval service, before Lyria and the cancer and all the heartache that had come after. 

Sitting in the truck, the radio blasting and Cash’ squawking tunelessly along with it, Rowan had felt more himself than he had in months. The stress of studying for the detective’s exam had been wearing on him more than he’d realized, and in that moment it had struck him how badly he’d needed this distraction. A glance at Cash had told him his friend was thinking the same thing.

Cash had been Rowan’s best friend since before he could honestly remember, and despite Lor’s obnoxious declarations to the contrary, Cash was hands-down the smartest person Rowan knew. It had come as a surprise, then, when they’d all started growing up and talking about college and Cash had shown no interest. Neither had Fen, but that Ro had expected. The free spirit of the lot, he seemed perfectly content to stay at home and work odd jobs so long as he could still surf every day. But Cash...he’d always seemed a little lost to Ro. Just a late bloomer, his mother had always insisted. Some of the best people take the longest to develop. Still, Rowan had assumed that now that they were in their mid-twenties, Cash would have figured it out. As far as he knew, though, Cash was still working at the same stuffy restaurant he’d worked at when they were teenagers, though he’d thankfully graduated from a dishwasher to a server and an occasional bartender.

 As if he’d known what Ro had been thinking, Cash turned to grin at him, a secret smile that traditionally had spelled trouble, getting grounded, and occasionally running from the police.

“I have some news,” he’d said, eyes twinkling. “Remind me to tell you later.”

Ro had meant to ask the minute they’d gotten back to the house, but suddenly there was a shot in his hand and everything else had faded away. They’d partied all night and well into the next day, a decision he’d regretted when they’d all piled onto the ferry to Waikiki for the tournament. Thankfully they’d still had half a day to recover at the hotel before the tournament began, though the trip had gotten decidedly less restful when they’d arrived to find Remy waiting for them, already pissed off. 

According to his friends, Remelle St. James was Rowan’s greatest sin. They’d dated on-and-off through high school in what Cash had generously described as a slow-burning dumpster fire, but had lost touch after Ro had left for the Naval Academy and Remy accepted a scholarship to play volleyball at UC Irvine. It was only after Lyria’s diagnosis, and—a devastatingly short six months later—her death that Rowan and Remelle reconnected. For all her other faults, Remy had also lost a sister to cancer young, and she’d been there to counsel Rowan through the worst of his grief.

 Her romantic pursuit of him the following year was admittedly less admirable, and Rowan had been quick to lessen his connection to her when it became clear what she wanted from him.  Still, that had been almost a year ago, and when she’d called to suggest he come to Hawaii and play in this invitational with her, it had been an offer he couldn’t refuse. Remy was one of the best amateur players on the circuit, having just missed the opportunity to play professionally on the AVP tour the previous year. It was why she’d called, she claimed. This tournament was a great way to get exposure, and mixed doubles was a much higher profile division than that of female twos.His friends, on the other hand, had immediately called bullshit.

“As much as I want to see you,” Fen had said when Rowan had first called with her proposal. “She’s playing you, brother. No offense, but there are tons of guys here she could recruit if she wanted. She asked you because, once again, she’s trying to dig her claws in.”

“Hate to agree,” Cash had chimed in. “But he’s totally right. She just wants in your board shorts.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I’m good enough to win?” Rowan had countered.

He could picture Cash rolling his eyes from 2,500 miles away.

“Of all the things we just said, how was that your takeaway?”“I never get to play anymore,” Rowan had admitted. “And I miss it. I think I’m just going to do it.”

“In that case, can’t wait to see you, brother.”

And that had been that. It had seemed a great idea up until he’d spotted Remy glowering at him in the lobby yesterday, and now, in the midst of the fourth set of the semifinal match, he was wondering if his friends hadn’t been right.

Game Point, he reminded himself. Just one more point and they’d be in the finals. Just one more point and he could take a blessed break from Remy and all her castigations.He stretched a hand behind him as Remy stepped back to serve, flashing two fingers to signal he would be blocking cross. He could hear her huff of disapproval even with his back to her. They’d been having problems with their coverage all game, and though Rowan could have very reasonably argued it was because of Remy’s defense, she’d blamed his position on the block.

“What’s the point of being a giant,” she’d snarled after the last point they’d lost. “If you can’t shut a hitter down at the net?”

“I’m trying to force the spot you keep saying you want,” he’d snapped back. “Maybe after this game you might want to look into a digging clinic.”

He heard the snap as the ball was served, tracking his opponents through the net as they received. It was a less than stellar pass from the guy, and though the set his teammate gave him was decent, Ro could see the swing was going to be exactly where he wanted it.

He lingered to the left until the last moment, feigning a block that would force the hit line. He struck just as the hitter began to make contact, taking a quick step to the right before exploding up. Rowan could feel in the way his muscles uncoiled that it had been a perfect jump, and he turned his face away to avoid a broken nose as his hands made contact with the ball. He could tell from the sound alone how dominating a block it had been, and he wasn’t surprised as he watched the ball fall into the sand on the opposite court, it’s angle so punishing there had been no chance for a defense.

The gathering crowd erupted in cheers, and Rowan turned to Remy in celebration, only to find her lips pursed.

“Nice block. I hope this means you’re going to actually listen to me next match.”

Too annoyed to respond to that, Rowan turned to shake hands with the opposing team before stalking past Remy to where his friends were lounging. Unsurprisingly, she was right on his heels, pushing the water bottle he’d about to take a sip from away and scowling at him.“I told you that you needed to be more aggressive on the block,” she said. “Would it honestly kill you to admit I’m right?” “Every block can’t be a roof, Rem! You need to be quicker at reading the coverage or we are going to lose in the finals.”

Remy crossed her arms. 

“You’re just mad because you don’t have the stamina to keep jumping like that.”

“Don’t start with me about stamina,” Rowan said. “For someone who is hoping to get on the tour, you’re lagging on defense.”

Rowan was unsurprised when she reached back and slapped him in the face, though the blow had admittedly come fast enough that he hadn’t had time to avoid it.

“You’re an ass,” Remy snarled, tears in her eyes.

Once, that might have been enough to get him to soften his tone. After ten years of dealing with her gaslighting, he was now sure that they were manufactured. 

“Do not do that again,” he said in a quiet voice. At this more tears welled, and she reached up to touch his face, her small palms resting on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ro,” she said, eyes flicking briefly to his lips. “I’m just--there’s a lot riding on this for me.”

“Our next match is in twenty minutes,” Rowan said, peeling her hands off of him. “Get some water and walk it off.”

She seemed put out at the dismissal, but she must have known she had little recourse to argue after slapping him, so she simply nodded and turned away, giving his friends a hateful look for good measure before stalking off. Fen watched her go with unveiled distaste before turning to Rowan and shaking his head. 

“Dude, I know I’m gay, but I will never understand what you see in that girl. She straight sucks.”

Cash bubbled his lips in agreement.

“There’s nothing to see,” Lor said. “She’s a fucking nightmare.”

“Here, here,” Cash said, and Rowan rolled his eyes.“We’ve been playing together forever,” he protested. “And Remy knows we aren’t...seeing each other anymore.”

“Does she?” Lor drawled. “Just because you’re not banging her right now doesn’t mean she’s done with you, Whitethorn. Remelle St. James is not a girl you can just walk away from.”

“We’re twos partners, not soulmates,” Ro said. “And if playing with Remy means winning this tournament, I don’t really care what you jackasses think of it, or of her.”

“The sets cannot be worth it,” Lorcan drawled, sounding bored.

“She’s the best amateur female player in this tournament,” Rowan snapped back.

“Please,” Fen said. “She’s barely in the top five.”

“And who’s number one, then?”

Fen grinned, dark eyes fiendish.

“You haven’t heard? There’s a chick here from the University of Texas, and apparently she’s—”

“Holy shit,” Cash interrupted, eyes skating over Rowan’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

Rowan turned in time to watch the hottest woman he’d ever seen saunter towards them. She was taller than average—easily exceeding six feet—and corded with a sleek musculature that would have heralded her as a volleyball player even if they weren’t at a tournament. Her gorgeously tanned legs went on for an eternity, and he felt his mouth go dry at seeing the minuscule bikini bottoms she wore, the burnt orange Lycra hugging a toned ass that told him she probably had a damn good vertical. Her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and braided in the popular style, and when she turned to smirk at him in a flash of pearly teeth and dazzling blue eyes, he felt a little weak.

“Goddamn,” Cash said, interrupting Rowan’s reverie. “She is fucking gorgeous.”

“That’s her,” Fen said. “From UT. Aelin Galathynius. Ro, I hope you and Remy can pull it together for this match. Otherwise this girl is gonna fuck you up.”

They all watched as she trotted onto the court, bending over in a stretch Rowan was afraid was going to make his board shorts too tight.

“God lord, she is perfect,” Cash said, tilting his head slightly to better admire her well-formed assets.Rowan felt a prickle of irritation at his friend's appraisal, but before he could address it, or—more realistically—dismiss it, Lor gave an unimpressed snort.

“She’s too tall.”

“I don’t understand how a guy pushing seven feet can have a maximum height restriction for the women he dates,” Fen said.

Lor only shrugged with a smirk, but Rowan was barely listening. He felt another twinge of displeasure zip down his spine as he watched a muscular blonde frat star stride onto the court towards the Galathynius girl, who beamed at seeing him.“That her boyfriend?” He asked, trying not to sound overly put-out by the idea.

 “Cousin, I think,” Lor said, expression gloriously bored. “Aedion Ashryver. I played him in a tournament in Miami last year. He’s marginally above average.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Fen said, earning only an eye roll in response.They watched as Ashryver took several exploratory swings, Aelin working out her wrists as he did. Rowan admired her flawless form as she gave her cousin a tight set and he crushed the ball into a sand on a punishing downward trajectory.

“Nice hands,” Cash said, eyes alight with appreciation as she shot Aedion a quick set to a similarly successful result.

“I can block him,” Rowan said, trying to read Aedion’s form for flaws. “He’s swinging hard, but he’s hit that same spot every time.”

“That’s not going to be enough on its own,” Lor said dryly. “Your best bet is to force Galynthius to receive first then shut her down on the block. I bet her swing is weak.”

“That opinion is completely baseless,” Cash said. “You have no idea what her swing is like.”

“I know that cocky assholes are never as good as they are obnoxious,” Lorcan retorted, gesturing to the Galythinius girl again.She’d seemed to have taken note of their attention, hands on her hips as surveyed Rowan from head to toe. Something about the way she looked at him—her tongue tucked almost suggestively into her cheek—had pleasant goosebumps breaking out on his arms.

Given her brazen assessment, Rowan felt justified in studying her as well, trying to school his expression into that of a player sizing up an opponent for weaknesses. In reality, he was just admiring her.The sports bra she wore did nothing to minimize her gorgeously firm tits, and her stomach was an alluring tapestry of muscle, the smooth bronze skin unblemished save for the corner of a tattoo which peaked out from the top of her bikini bottoms. From it’s color and shape, Rowan thought it might be a flag, though he couldn’t see enough of it to tell which country. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined peeling the offending garment off her and getting a better look. Rowan tried to get his mind right as Aelin Galynthius gave him a smouldering grin and turned away, but he was still so caught up in her that he flinched when he felt Remy’s fingers trailing down his back.

“You ready, babe? Let’s do this.”Rowan definitely debated telling her not to call him that, but not wanting to reignite the tension when they were so close to winning he simply nodded and headed towards the court to warm up as well. 

“Good luck, champ,” Fen said. “Make sure you find out if she’s single for Cash.”

Rowan flipped him off and jogged onto the court, trying to ignore the way Aelin Galynthius’s eyes raked him appreciatively as he passed her.

Still relatively loose from the previous match, Rowan sped through warm-ups, not wanting to give the Ashryvver cousins too much insight into his skill level. When they were done, the tournament organizer came over to congratulate the four of them on their place in the finals before briefly running through the rules.

“There will be a line judge to settle any disputes, but you’re mostly expected to police yourself. We’re all adults here, so I expect everyone to behave like it.”

At this the Ashryvver cousins exchanged a mirthful look that failed to go unnoticed by any of the assembled. Rowan could feel Remy bristling beside him. She only grew more rigid when Aelin let her dazzling blue eyes slide to Rowan and she winked. 

“It’s best of five this match, first to twenty-five, win by two, cap at 30. Switch on hard sevens. Any questions?”

“I have one,” Aedion said, a bronzed grin stretching wide enough to reveal dimples in his cheeks. “When we win, am I going to get lei-ed?”

Rowan rolled his eyes, fighting down a searing stab of annoyance. Ethnically, his family may not have been kānaka maoli, but Rowan had lived in Hawaii his entire life, and the culture was important to him. Why wasn’t he surprised that this haole douchebag had just gone for the most tired pun in existence?

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told Ashryvver. “The losers don’t get shit.”

At this, Galathynius laughed, the sound low and musical.“I love a man who knows how to dream big.”

“Shall we?” The coordinator cut in, his gaze flitting between Aelin and Remy, who Rowan presumed was scowling.

They nodded and he flipped a coin, which Rowan called in the air.

“Heads.”The shaggy-haired coordinator extended his arm to show them the gleaming head of Sacagawea on the gold dollar coin.

“We’ll serve,” Rowan said, forcing himself to shake Aedion Ashryvver’s hand as he did.

Enough of this bullshit, he was ready to beat this punk into the dusk. He was also ready to put some distance between himself and Aelin Galathynius before her beauty robbed him of any good sense. Together or no, Remy would have his balls on the grill if he openly flirted with someone else in front of her, and it was a complication he couldn’t afford this close to victory.

It was easier said than done when Aelin slid her hand into his, squeezing in a way that felt oddly suggestive. However, it only lasted a second before she was turning on her heel and strutting to her side of the court.

“Good luck,” she said over her shoulder, brushing the long tail of her braid down her back. “You’re going to need it.”

Remy growled something that sounded suspiciously like “bitch” as she took her place behind the serving line. Rowan gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod as he made his way towards the net, hand stretched behind him to give Remy the block signal.

Aelin Galathynius grinned at him through the net, blue eyes glittering before she slid on a pair of sunglasses.

“So,” she said as Remy continued to prepare. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

There was a pleasant cadence to her voice when she spoke, the trace of an accent he couldn’t quite place.

“Trying to get in my head?” he shot back, willing himself not to fall for her tantalizing games.

Aelin gave a sultry laugh.

“More like your pants.”

At this he heard the snap of the ball being served, and he swore as he watched it sail into the net. It wasn’t like Remy to make service errors, but the dirty look she gave him as he retreated to receive Aedion’s serve told him she considered it his fault.

“Are you done flirting,” she hissed as he passed her. “Can we focus on winning now?”

Rowan longed to snap back a retort that he hadn’t been flirting and she was the one who seemed to be lacking focus, but by this time Aedion was behind the line, preparing to serve. Rowan watched the toss and adjusted his position the minute Aedion made contact, easily receiving the ball. He called for a hit outside, but Remy’s set drew him into the interior of the court instead, almost as if she were trying to pull him away from Aelin.

Adjusting his position, Rowan swung. It was Aelin who received the dig and Rowan quickly retreated along the net, ready to stuff her on the block. He was in the perfect position to cut off the diagonal hitting lane, leaving her to either tap it over—an easy receive for him—or shoot line. Rowan thought of what Lorcan had said about her weak swing as she approached, and part of him hoped she would attempt a cross so he could show her how it was done.

He crouched, muscles burning in anticipation to spring up and stuff the ball right back in Aelin Galathynius’s smug face.

Except, he didn’t.

Aelin exploded into the air as the ball reached her, her vertical impreeven given her height. In a flick of her wrist, she’d tattooed the ball right down the undefended right line. Remy made a dive for it, but Rowan could tell from the minute Aelin had hit it that it was a point.

It was—she was—

Rowan shook his head, slightly dazed. Whatever skill Rowan had expected from her, she’d just blown right past it. She was phenomenal.And what was more, she knew it. When Rowan had finally gathered his wits enough to glance at her, it was to find her grinning back.

“Welcome to the majors, Big Boy,” she purred, and Rowan couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or throttle her as he retreated back to his receive position.

Ashryvvers: 1 Remy & Ro: 0.

Rowan’s warring aggravation and admiration raged on all through the first set, which he and Remy lost...badly.He tried to ignore his friends’ jeers as he retreated to hydrate before the second set began, trying to analyze Aelin’s game for flaws.The problem was, there were none, at least that he could see.

“So what’s she like?” Fen asked as Rowan took another sip of gatorade. “Seems like you two were really hitting it off out there.”

“Annoying,” Ro replied. “She’s got Remy all riled up.”

Remy had refused to speak to Rowan after the set, and she was currently standing alone in the middle of the court, glaring daggers at the Ashyrvver cousins.

“Like I said,” Lor said in a dry voice. “That she-demon has plans for you. She doesn’t like that Galathynius is moving in on what she sees as her turf.”

“What are you even talking about ‘turf’?”

“I think he means your dick, man,” Cash added, grinning when Rowan turned to glower.

“I do,” Lor said. 

“I’m not sleeping with either of them,” Rowan said, trying to reassure himself. 

“Sure you aren’t,” Fen said, shooting Lorcan and Cash a conspiratorial wink. “Do you mind if I quote you on that in my best man’s speech? Aelin seems like a girl who appreciates irony.”

“You aren’t going to be his best man,” Cash said. “Obviously it’s going to be me.”

“Ro can’t choose a best man who's already slobbered over his bride,” Lor pointed out. “So it has to be me.”

“It will be none of you,” Rowan said. “Because I would never marry a girl like that.”

Cash gave a bemused laugh.“Like what, gorgeous?”

“Athletic?” Fen added.

“Sharp-tongued?”

“Talented?”

Rowan growled.

“Remind me why I bother with any of you,” he said, tossing his empty bottle to Cash before jogging on the court.

One good thing about his friends’ teasing: it had fired him up. Even with Remy obviously still mad at him, he dominated in the second set, and the third. Between both Ashryvvers’ ability to jump and play defense, he never managed a clean kill—the kind he normally wracked up by the dozens against other, lesser opponents. Still, it was enough.

Unfortunately, Aelin continued to make comments and give him sly looks even as the score turned against her, and Rowan could feel it wearing on Remy. By the fourth set, Remy was visibly flustered, the sizable lead Rowan had given them late in the game shrinking as Remy continued to make useless mistakes.Rowan fought not the swear on game point as Remy went against Aelin on the block and was smoked.

“Lucky shot,” Remy said as she was forced to shake Aelin’s hand to signal the end of the set.  Aelin flashed Remy a taunting smirk that Rowan could tell meant trouble, and he debated the merits of interfering just as Aelin said, “There was nothing lucky about that, and we both know it. Please don’t embarrass yourself.”

“You think you’re better than me?” Remy demanded.

Aelin only laughed.

“No,” she said.

 Rowan may have relaxed at hearing that, but before he could Aelin added, “I know I’m better than you.”

Remy turned, lip curling up.

“Not what the scoresheet says.”

Aelin pushed the sport sunglasses she was wearing on top of her head, presumably so Remy could see her roll those sparkling azure eyes, ringed at the iris with pure gold.

“I think we all know why the score looks like it does,” Aelin shot back, pausing to give Rowan a bone-melting smile. 

Honestly, there was so much sexual charisma in it that he had to actively fight his body’s natural reaction. His brain might not have been a fan of Aelin Galathynius, but his cock sure was.

Remy jammed her hands onto her hips, the rage in her eyes cold enough to burn as she stared Aelin down. Rowan, she ignored.

“I don’t need him,” she snapped. 

Aelin smirk went slightly wicked. 

“Good, then you won’t mind when I take him home later and give him the ride of his life. After my cousin and I bury you in this match and win the tournament, that is.”

Aelin flashed her pearly teeth in a razored smile, letting it rake over Remy before falling on Rowan. He should have been insulted by her objectification, but in reality it just turned up the tension that had been simmering between them since the match had begun.

Remy’s answering laugh was cold, and Rowan braced for impact. Despite her bravura, he doubted the Galathynius girl understood what she was starting. Remy could be downright cruel when provoked, and the gleam in her eye told him she was preparing to go from the jugular.

“As if he’d be interested in a flat-chest, loud-mouthed cunt like you.”

At this Aedion growled, the first serious emotion Rowan had seen him display all day.

“Hey,” he snapped. “Watch your mouth.”

“That’s enough, Rem,” Rowan cut in. “We didn’t come here to talk trash.”

Remy turned, sneering.

“She started it.”

“That can’t honestly be the retort you’re going with,” Aelin said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I expected better from you, short stack.”

At 5’9, Remy was above-average height for a woman, but compared to Aelin’s towering frame she looked positively impish, a fact Rowan knew probably filled her with rage. She wasn’t used to being looked down on the court, either physically or metaphorically.

Rowan caught her around the waist a second before she lunged, causing Aelin to laugh.

“You’re a bitch,” Remy snapped.

“I’ve been called worse by better,” Aelin said, tossing the ball to Remy with no small amount of force. “Better luck next time.”

Remy let out a small grunt as the ball knocked some of the wind out of her, but she seemed determined not to give Aelin any more than that. Tossing the ball to the ground, she made a show of storming off. 

At this Aelin turned to her cousin, cocking her head back in Remy’s direction.

“Voy a destruirla.”

Aedion laughed and gave a longer response in the same language, and Rowan found his eyes trailing down to Aelin’s tattoo again. At this close distance he could clearly see the white star set into a red triangle, inverted by the position of the tattoo.

The Cuban flag.

Good god, and he thought she’d been distracting before. Knowing that she spoke Spanish…

When he glanced up it was to find Aelin grinning.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said, running the column of her braid through her fist in a way that had him inevitably imagining her wrapping her hands around something else. “They don’t make gringas this gorgeous.”

“Is this your strategy?” Rowan shot back, desperate to find his footing with her. “Work my partner into a frenzy so we’ll lose?”

Aelin laughed, though her gaze had chilled somewhat.

“I don’t need tricks to beat you, handsome. I think I’ve already proven that.”

“At yet that match is still all tied up, two sets a piece.”Aelin and Aedion exchanged a dangerous smile.

“Maybe I just wanted to prolong the match so I could spend more time with you,” she said. “Clearly I shouldn’t have bothered. Try not to be too embarrassed by what comes next, mi amor. It’s going to get ugly.”

“I can handle it,” Rowan shot back before adding, “And you.”

Far from seeming unnerved, Aelin preened a bit at that, clearly pleased by the challenge.

“Prove it, big boy,” she said, hands on her hips as she squared up to him.

He took a step in her direction, standing toe-to-toe with her now even with the net still between them. She may have been tall for a female, but at 6’6 he still had to tilt his chin down slightly to meet her eye.

 “I intend to,” he said. “Repeatedly.”

She bit her lip at this, the first blush he’d seen burnishing her beautiful bronze skin.

“Basta, Aelin,” Aedion called, cocking his head. “Dale.”

“Good luck, Hulk Smash,” Aelin told Rowan, turning on her heel towards her cousin. 

Rowan couldn't’ find the good sense to move his feet as she sauntered off to join her cousin, the two of them bantering back and forth in rapid Spanish. Cash was going to die when he found out Aelin was Cuban.

 Half-Brazilian himself Cash worshipped Latin women, and for the most part, they—like most women—worshipped him right back.

Ro tried not to let the idea of Cash and Aelin hitting it off bother him as he continued to watch the Ashryvver cousins. Perhaps Aelin would be immune to Cash’s easy charm, though Rowan had to admit it was unlikely. Unlike Rowan, who often came off dour despite his best efforts, Cash was engaging and almost impossible to dislike. More likely than not, Aelin Galathynius would take one look at that million-watt smile and enviable head of dark hair and forget she’d even met Rowan.

The thought was surprisingly irritating, and Ro forced himself to put it aside as the line judge called for the final match to begin. He glanced around in time to see Remy striding back onto the court, her expression more neutral than when she’d stormed off.

“Ready?” he asked simply.Her eyes blazed with a determination she’d lacked since the Ashryvver cousins had gotten in her head.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Let’s end this.”

Something in her bearing had changed, and Ro felt adrenaline surging through him.

This was the player who’d dominated in the matches leading up to this one; this was the teammate who was going to help him shut the Ashryvver’s down once and for all.

They lost the initial coin flip and the Ashryvvers elected to serve, Aelin blowing him a kiss as she stepped behind the line. Rowan ignored her.He had bigger fish to fry.

She had a punishing jump serve that stung Ro’s arms as he received, but he still managed a decent pass, and the set Remy gave him was damn near perfect. Aedion and Aelin shifted as the former dropped back for coverage and the latter  prepared for the block. She’d yet to stuff Rowan, but he couldn’t deny she had hops enough to cause him real problems if he wasn’t careful.Still, the set had drawn Aelin farther into the court than he could tell she liked, leaving the line undefended. Rowan intentionally approached at an angle as if he meant to swing cross before changing his body position last minute and aiming line.

Aelin jumped, but her effort was futile. Her left hand just missed the ball, which sailed down the line and struck deep.Rowan’s first kill of the entire match.He couldn’t help a glance down at Aelin as he smiled.

“Welcome to the big leagues, Galathynius.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, but she offered no retort as she retreated to Aedion, switching to Spanish presumably to discuss strategy.

With Remy more in the game, she and Ro got out to an early lead, a fact that he could tell filled Aelin with fiery displeasure. As hard as he was swinging, Rowan had finally figured out Aedion’s swing, and though Aelin tried to move him around the court with her sets to avoid Rowan’s block, they were finding only middling success.

Rowan didn’t permit himself to think too much about it as they steadily racked up points, but when he looked up to find the score was 24 - 18, his pulse sped up. 

It was match point. 

One more point, he told himself. One more point and he and Remy would have won the whole damn thing. It was so close he could almost taste it.Still, as he watched Aelin take note of the same thing, her blue eyes flashing, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. Aedion finally managed a kill the next point, and when Aelin stepped back to serve, everything in her posture signaled danger ahead.

Rowan watched the ball spin as she tossed it in the air, timing her jump to perfection. Remy adjusted to defend the line, but the ball unexpectedly hit the top of the net instead, the force of the blow pushing the ball over onto their court. Remy dove for it but it was no use; it was in the sand even before he hit the ground.

24 - 20.

Aelin gave a self-satisfied smirk as Remy tossed the ball back to her.

“Dare you to do that again,” she snapped, and Aelin’s smile only widened.

Tossing the ball, she did just that. The ball hit the tape and fell in the same spot, proving it wasn’t a lucky shot. She’d clearly practiced utilizing the net, and now it had cost them back-to-back aces.

24 - 21.

Remy gave a small scream of frustration as she went down hard for a second time, brushing sand out of her hair and off her face as she glared at a preening Aelin. She readjusted closer to the net lest Aelin try the tricks third time, her body poised to spring. Except Aelin didn’t try it a third time. She aimed for the back corner instead, tattooing the ball into the space Remy had just abandoned.

“Goddamnit!” Remy snarled, storming towards Rowan. “Switch me.”

24 - 22.

Repositioning again, Rowan was blessedly able to receive her fourth serve, Remy’s set putting him tight on the net. He’d expected Aedion to cover him but in a flash Aelin was there instead, exploding upwards just as he made contact.He heard the snap of the ball against skin, and only had time to cast a hand out blindly as the ball came back onto his side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough for Remy to get to.

Aelin beamed as Rowan turned to gawk at her. It was rare at his height and speed that he got stuffed on the block. Even Aedion, who was close to his height, hadn’t managed it.

24 - 23.

“I told you it was going to get ugly,” Aelin purred. “I don’t make idle promises.”

“You’re still behind,” Rowan said, but Aelin only smiled.

“But we have the momentum,” she said. “And chiquita looks like she’s running scared.”

A glance at Remy told Rowan Aelin was right; she looked flustered, and when she caught Rowan looking at her she scowled.

“Let’s just finish this,” she said. “Sideout. No quarter.”

If they scored now, they’d win the match. But if Aelin and Aedion got more up on them, it would force at least two more points as they had to win by two.

Aelin only chuckled at this, heading back to the serving line for a fifth time. She served a floater this time, the lack of spin on the ball sending it sailing over the net at an unpredictable angle. Remy received, and after Rowan put her slightly too close to the net, Aedion stuffed the ball back in her face.

24 - 24.

The next point Aelin won on a deep roll shot to the right corner, and suddenly it was match point in the opposite direction.

24 - 25, match point to the Ashryvvers.

 Thankfully this time, Rowan and Remy were ready. Rowan went head to head with Aedion on the block and won, earning only his third kill of the entire match.

25 - 25.

The next point was a service error from Remy after she attempted to tickle the tape the same way Aelin had, resulting in another scream of frustration.

25 - 26, match point for the Ashryvvers again.

Rowan gave Remy a set off the net and she managed to catch Aelin off-balance for a rare shank from the blonde.

 26 - 26.

Aedion shot Aelin a quick set to the middle and she had the ball in the sand before Rowan could even react.

26 - 27, match point for the Ashryvvers.Service error from Aedion after a bad toss for his jump serve.

27- 27.

Rowan wiped sweat from his eyes as he tried not to dwell on the score. With a cap at 30, there were only a possibility of four more points either way. He let out a steadying breath as he stepped up to serve. Aiming deep, he caught Aedion in an awkward position that resulted in an unredeemable pass.

28 - 27, match point for Rowan and Remy.

One more, Ro told himself. One more just like that and they would have won.He aimed for the same spot only to realize that Aedion and Aelin had switched positions, and where Aedion was powerful but cumbersome in the sand, Aelin was lightning fast. She managed the receive Aedion couldn’t, and when Aedion set her tight, she crushed the ball cross-court, right into the corner.

Remy threw up her hands, beaming.

“Out!” she said. “It’s out. That’s the match! Ro, we won!”

However, Rowan could tell in her bearing something was off, and he let his eyes flit to the line judge to investigate. The man came over just as Remy made a move to casually swipe at the sand with her toe, and he gestured to the imprint of a ball still visible in the sand.

“In,” he said, giving Remy a warning look as the Ashryvvers murmured to one another. “Point to the Ashryvvers.”

28 - 28.

Rowan tried not to tense at the realization Remy had been willing to cheat. It set his teeth on edge, and served as a reminder why he normally kept his distance from her. It was a rule he’d have to remember after today.

Aelin stepped up to serve with an unkind smile twisting at her full mouth, and tattooed the same deep corner she’d just hit. The line judge--not waiting for Remy’s assessment this time, ruled it in.

28 - 29, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Unfortunately, Aelin miscalculated as she attempted to hit the same spot with her next serve, and this time it was ruled out.

 29 - 29, the final match point.

Whoever won the next point would win the set and the match. One point to decide who would be the tournaments champs and who would be the losers.

Rowan’s could see the same thought in Aelin’s eyes as the both approached the net, Rowan’s hand stretched behind his back to signal his block to Remy. 

“So,” Aelin said as Remy went through her pre-serve ritual. “Where are you taking me to celebrate after?”

Rowan flashed her a feral grin.

“Didn’t take you for a girl who celebrates her losses.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But buy me a few congratulatory drinks when I win and maybe I’ll show you what type of girl I really am.

”Rowan heard the short whistle to signal Remy was asking for a re-toss on her serve, and he focused his attention back on Aelin momentarily.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

She bit her lip, eyes falling unmistakably to his cock. Her gaze was like a fist around his dick, and he had to fight back a groan.

“You know exactly what it means,” she said.

At that moment Remy served the ball, saving Rowan from his pitiful lack of retort. He forced himself to refocus as Aedion received, trying to forget the offer of casual sex Aelin had just thrown onto the table. Or perhaps she was just teasing him, trying to get under his skin so he’d forget what he was doing.Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t so easily rattled. Tracking Aedion as he received the ball and swung, Rowan forced him cross on the block. Remy returned with no issue, and Rowan’s muscles coiled in anticipation as Aelin dug the ball. Aedion set was right where Rowan now knew Aelin preferred it.

She swung hard but met his block, and just when Rowan started to think he’d won the point, she threw out a hand on blind instinct, sending the ball back up into the air on her side of the court. Instantly Aedion was there to feed her a quick set, and Aelin swung again just as hard.

Again Rowan jumped and managed to block her, and again she recovered.

Breathing hard, she approached a third time, exploding upwards at the same time Rowan did. This time, however, she pivoted mid-air, managing to avoid his outstretched hands and send the ball careening down.

Everything seemed to slow as Rowan turned to watch Remy dive for the ball, but it was too late; it had already hit the sand.

That was it; game, set, match.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the line judge made the official designation, and Aelin beamed.

“Nice game,” Rowan told her, stretching his hand out to her. “I thought I had you.”

Her smile only widened, eyes glittering as she tugged off her glasses and slid her palm into his to shake.

“Play your cards right and you still might.”

Rowan opened his mouth--though to say what, he wasn’t sure. Before he could formulate a response, he felt the brush of a hand down his back as Remy appeared at his side.

“Congratulations,” she said coolly, her arm slithering around Rowan’s waist now even as he subtly tried to peel her off. Undeterred, Remy tightened her grip as her eyes flitted to Aelin’s tattoo.

 “Not bad for a pair of--”

“I would think very carefully before you finish that sentence,” Aelin warned in a soft, dangerous tone. “And take your hands off him; he’s clearly not interested.”

Remy scowled.

“That is none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you started manhandling him in front of me. He’s too polite to embarrass you, but I’m not. Keep your hands to yourself.”

At this Remy loosened her grip a bit, even as she turned to glare up at Rowan.

“Are you serious going to let her speak to me like that?” she demanded.

“She’s not wrong,” Rowan said, wishing they could do this without an audience. “We’ve talked about this before.”

Remy only gave a cold laugh.

“Oh I see. Some slut offers to suck your dick and suddenly you have no loyalty. You’re a pig, Rowan.”

“Don’t call her a slut,” Rowan said, losing patience. “And stop acting like this is anything new between us.”

At this Aelin huffed a laugh, and Remy snarled.

“You are a miserable bitch, and you fucking deserve each other.”

At this she stormed off, and Aelin turned her bronzed grin on Rowan.

“She’s lovely,” she said. “You make a charming couple.”

“We’re not together,” he said uselessly.Their exchange just now had already made that clear.

“I know,” Aelin said, waggling her eyebrows as she gave him another suggestive up-down. “Lucky me.”

Rowan debated for half a second if he actually wanted to take this girl up on her tantalizing offer, even knowing it could never be anything more. After this weekend he would go back to Los Angeles to continue studying for the detective’s exam and she, presumably, would return to school in Texas. It wasn’t just the distance, either. Something about the idea of a one-night stand with her left him feeling a bit hollow. He’d gone through a ‘casual sex’ phase in the dreary months and years after losing Lyria, and now mindless hook-ups--even with a girl as hot as Aelin--had lost their luster. Besides, Aelin seemed like a girl who deserved better.

On the other hand, Rowan was only human, and goddamn him, there was a part of him which very much wanted to accept. Before he could stop himself, Rowan  imagined stripping off Aelin’s bikini and teasing her until she begged for his cock. As dominant as she was on the court, something wicked told him she would be submissive in bed.

However, before he could make a decision either way Aedion appeared, flashing Rowan a cocky grin as they shook hands before throwing Aelin over his shoulder and jogging towards a throng which had gathered at the center of the court. They were young--mostly likely still college students like Aelin--all of them dressed in various articles of burnt orange clothing, chanting “Ashryvver” at the top of their lungs.

Rowan could help himself as he tracked Aelin through the adoring crowd, beaming as the tournament administrator fought his way through the mass to place a beautiful fresh lei of white orchids around her neck. As when the man handed both Aelin and Aedion a crystal vase—serving in the place of a trophy, their throng of admirers burst into even louder cheers as the opening bars of All I Do is Win by DJ Khaled blared over the speakers. Rowan fended off a sensation dangerously similar to disappointment as Aelin scrambled up to sit on the shoulders of a sickeningly-handsome man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. Rowan watched as she strung a hand under the stranger’s chin to grin down at him, his smile similarly enraptured as they traded a laughed. 

Rowan forced his shoulders to drop from their rigid position. Perhaps she had just been teasing all that time. After all, she didn’t seem to remember Rowan even existed as she swayed to the music, fingers casually strung through the strangers hair to keep herself steady.

Forcing himself to look away, Rowan retreated back to where his friends waited. It was fine, he told himself. He came here to play, not get his dick wet, and he’d done that, and done it well. Now was the time for celebrating being back with his favorite people, not sulking over some girl he barely knew.

“Great game, man,” Fen said as Ro approached,accepting the Gatorade in his friend’s outstretched hand. “That was a tough break at the end.”

“No shame in that match, Ro. That girl is just unstoppable,” Cash added.

“And one good thing about you losing: I think you shook Remy for good,” Lor said. “She stormed over her to spew a bunch of bullshit about how much she hated all of us before she stormed off. Don’t think we will be seeing her again any time soon.”

“Oh amen to that, brother,” Fen said. “That’s worth losing a match any day.”

“I can’t say I was sorry to see her go,” Rowan admitted. “You were right; she had ulterior motives.”

Lorcan pretended to examine his nails in feigned indifference.

“I, for one, am shocked.”

“Speaking of ulterior motives...” Cash said, eyes trailing to where the Ashryvvers were still celebrating, Aelin perched on the mystery man’s shoulders. “Talk to me about Galathynius.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, debating the merits of making up a lie before relenting and saying simply, “she’s Cuban.”

“Oh fuck,” Fen said. “You’re in trouble now, Kahukore.”

“I knew it,” Cash said, grin wolfish. “She’s perfect.”

“Cousin’s pretty hot, too,” Fen observed, eyes tracking Aedion as he posed for photos for the tournament website. “What have you got on him?”

“He’s a douchebag,” Rowan said. “The first thing out of his mouth before the match started was a joke about getting lei-ed.”

Fen only laughed, teeth bright against his brown skin.

“Lighten up, man. If I dismiss every haole guy who makes that joke, there won’t be any dick left!”

“There’s an obvious solution here,” Lor said, cuffing Fenrys affectionately by the back of his neck. “Stop chasing after white boys.”

“No promises,” Fen said, grinning. “Let’s go get drunk.”

“Can I shower first?” Ro asked, pushing his silver hair out of his eyes. “I feel like a vagrant.”

“And you smell like one, too,” Cash said. “You’re a jackass,” Rowan said, though he couldn’t help laughing as he strung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You owe me fifty bucks, by the way,” Cash called to Lor. 

Lorcan rolled his eyes. 

“You said she was Puerto Rican,” Lor said. “She’s Cuban, so I don’t owe you shit.”

“At least a drink, then. Fen thought she was Swedish!

“We don’t know!” Fen said, laughing. “One of her parents could still be Swedish. We’ll have Ro ask her later. Double or nothing, Kahukore?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, and he fought not to scowl outright. A quick glance back at the court told him that though Aelin had finally alighted from the brunette’s shoulders, they were now kicking sand at each other like children. He wondered how long it would take him to get her bright, infectious laughter out of his head.

“If you want to know, you better ask her now.”

“Wait, seriously?” Cash said. “You didn’t get her number? What is wrong with you?”

“She’s not my type.”

“What does that even mean, ‘type’?” Fen said. “I don’t like even women and she’s still my type. Don’t turn into Lor unless you’re cool with dying alone.”

Having no reasonable response to this, Rowan  just rolled his eyes.

“Rude,” Lor said, not actually sounding bothered by the comment.

“Let’s just go already,” Rowan said.The sooner he got drunk, the sooner he could forget about Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius and all the promises he’d seen in her dazzling eyes.

“Last chance,” Cash warned. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask for her number? If nothing else, she looks like she’d be willing to give you the ride of your life.”

Rowan had to admit he was tempted, especially as he remembered Aelin promising him the same thing. Still, when he watch the same dark-haired guy string an arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple, his mind was made up.

Jerking his head towards the parking lot, he permitted himself one final glance in Aelin’s direction before he turning his back to her for good.

X

Several hours hours later, Rowan found himself sitting on the beach with a beer in hand, watching the sun set over the glittering azure water. Oahu wasn’t quite home— not in the same way that Maui was—but Rowan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the islands until that moment. It was the familiar sound of the surf and the balmy air, much cleaner here than in LA. 

More than that, though, it was being here with his friends. He couldn’t remember the last time all four of them had been together, and he didn’t want to think about how long it might be before it happened again. He just wanted to enjoy the evening and...forget for a while

.“What are you thinking about?” Cash asked from beside him. “You look a million miles away.”

Not wanting the dampen the evening’s light mood, Rowan took a swig of beer and said, “

Just wondering if I should take out a bigger insurance policy on my motorcycle. Remy knows where I live, and part of me is afraid she’s already en-route to the mainland to destroy all my shit.”

At this, Lor laughed.

“Listen, you’re not wrong.”

“Just please tell me we are done with her,” Cash said. “I don’t think I have any more fake nice left in me after this weekend.”

“We’re done with her,” Rowan confirmed. “Also, she is never going to make the tour.”

“I don’t think AVP was very even on the table,” Fen said. “She just made that shit up to get your attention.”

“It might have worked, too, if Galathynius hadn’t stepped in,” Cash said, holding up his beer.

“At the very least, we’d be stuck entertaining her all weekend while she tried to slither in your pants,” Lor told Rowan. “For that, at least, I’m grateful to Galaythius.”

“Now, she will make the tour,” Cash said.

“Future Olympian, no doubt,” Fen agreed. “And Ro missed his chance to be right there with her. Instead he’ll be watching her win gold on tv and jacking off into a pool of his tears.”

“Are you done?” Rowan said, lobbing his empty can at Fen.

 “No,” Fen said. “I have enough material to last us the night, at least.”

Rowan rolled his eyes as they all labored to their feet and headed towards a rowdy pub farther down the beach. No one had to ask where they were headed; drinks at the Hideaway had always been their tradition when they came to Waikiki.

Despite the early hour, the bar was already bumping by the time they arrived, and as soon as they walked in and surveyed the scene, Cash burst out laughing. Lor, who’d followed his friend’s gaze, gave a good-natured groan.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

There, sitting on top the bar, was Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius, her usual coterie fawning around her as she tipped her head back to drain a shot of tequila. She’d traded her bikini for a pair of cut-off over-alls worn over a distractingly lacy bralette, her long blonde hair falling to her waist in two French braids.  

She still wore her lei from earlier, the white standing out brilliantly against her burnished skin.

Everyone she was with cheered as she held the glass aloft, and before Ro could think to make a quick exit and save himself the awkwardness of having to face her. Aelin’s mouth stretched into a sensuous grin as she surveyed his blue button-down and slim-fitting chinos.

“So we all agree now, right?” Cash said, giving Rowan a gentle shove. “Ro has to go over there and talk to her.”

Rowan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly as he watched Aelin lean over to whisper to the same dark-haired guy she’d been with earlier.

“Definitely,” Fen said. “It’s fate.”

“No,” Rowan said, turning towards the bar in an attempt to block Aelin out. “And I think she has a boyfriend, anyway.”

“Only one way to find out,” Cash said, grinning as he slid past Rowan. “Wish me luck, boys.”

Rowan had to actively fight a scowl.

“You’re seriously going over there?”

“Listen, brother: if you’re really not going to take your shot, then I am.”

He gave Rowan a challenging look as if daring him to call his bluff, but Rowan only shrugged.

“Go for it, man.”

Rowan told himself not to look, but curiosity got the best of him as Cash approached. Aelin watched him do so with keen interest, eyes glittering as she slid from the bar to her feet. Rowan was too far away to hear Cash’s opening line, but whatever it was, Aelin tipped her head back and laughed, her hand inadvertently falling to his arm as she did so.

“I need a fucking drink,” Rowan muttered, flagging to the bartender and gesturing for three shots of whiskey. 

Draining his, he glanced over again. Cash’s head was bent slightly as he spoke in Aelin’s ear, her smile dazzling as she listened.

Lorcan reached for his own shot, but Ro grabbed it before he could, throwing in back in a single movement before taking Fen’s as well.

“Damn boy, you’ve got it bad,” Fen observed.

“Cash better take her somewhere else to fuck,” Lor added, frowning. “She strikes me as a screamer, and I forgot my earplugs.”

“You both suck,” Rowan said, resisting the urge to look at Cash and Aelin for a third time. He already felt pathetic; he didn’t need to look it, too.

However, after a beat he couldn’t help himself, and he glanced up just in time to see Cash brush a kiss on Aelin’s cheek before retreating back towards them. 

When Aelin caught Rowan looking she crooked a finger towards him in an obvious “come hither” gesture, and Rowan felt his stomach flop pleasantly. Cash grinned as he reached their group again, jerking his head in Aelin’s direction as she crossed her legs in an expectant gesture.

“What did you do?” Rowan demanded.

“Greased the wheels for you,” Cash said, smiling. “Go get her, champ.”

At this he turned to Fen, smile widening.“And the cousin’s bi, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“Good work,” Fen said, clapping Cash on the back before turning to frown at Rowan. “What are you even still doing here? Go already, before she comes to her senses and chooses someone else!”

Flipping him a casual middle finger, Rowan smoothed back his silver hair and headed towards her, trying to seem more suave than he honestly felt. Jesus, he hadn’t been this tied in knots by a girl since he’d met Lyria as a first-year cadet. Normally the idea would pain him, but in that moment he had the oddest sensation of her standing beside him, smiling as if to say, “make me proud.”

Aelin smirked and uncoiled to her feet as he approached, grin widening as he said, “You stalking me?”

She gave a lover’s laugh, low and sensuous.

“Oh, you know how the songs goes: The Eyes of Texas are upon you, do not think you can escape them.”

He couldn’t fight his smile at this.

“I should have known,” he said.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” she said. “But you owe me. Why don’t we start with...your name? I’m Aelin, as I’m sure you already know.”

Not wanting to give her the pleasure of agreeing, he simply said, 

“Rowan.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” she said. “Took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to kiss your friend just to get your attention.”

“He would have loved that.”

Aelin laughed.

“He’s charming, but too pretty for me; I have a rule of not dating guys who have better hair than I do.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Rowan said. “It will go to his head.”

“Quite literally,” she said. “Let me introduce you around,” she said as Aedion approached.“My cousin, I think you know.”

Aedion only grinned, holding up the lei of purple orchids around his neck. “Told you I would.”

Aelin rolled her eyes as she ran a hand down the back of the dark-haired man she’s been with earlier, seeking his attention. When he turned, she gestured to Rowan.

“Galen, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my other cousin, Galen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Galen said, his accent thicker than either Aelin or Aedion’s. 

Her cousin.

It seemed so obvious now. Though his hair and skin were darker than hers, he had her same brilliant eyes, as did Aedion. Rowan was never going to hear the end of it from his friends.

Galen gave Rowan a quick up-down before firing off in rapid, staccato Spanish, the words so fast Rowan couldn’t even pick out a single one.

Aelin only gave her cousin a good-natured eyeroll before pushing on his chest.

“Vete,” she said. “no me molestes.”

“Let me guess,” Rowan said. “He threatened to string me up if I even so much as blink wrong?

”Aelin gave a look of theatrical mock surprise.

“No way, you speak Spanish?”

“Tell him I come in peace,” Rowan said.

“He knows I can fight my own battles,” Aelin replied with a strug. “He and Aedion just like to prove their usefulness. Where were we?”

“I think you were introducing me to your court,” Rowan said, gesturing as the legion of people surrounding Aelin.

“Everyone else can wait,” Aelin said, gesturing to the bartender for drinks. “I don’t feel like sharing you quite yet.”

When two tequila shots and two beers appeared on the bar, Rowan threw down a fifty before Aelin could put it on her tab.

“Trying to butter me up?” She asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

“Do I need to?” He replied, accepting the shot from her.

She only smirked, grabbing his fist and running her tongue down the back of his hand before covering it with salt. He had to fend off a pleasant shudder. The gesture had shot straight to his cock.

“We’ll see,” she said, offering him a lime now, too. “Ready?”

He lifted his glass to her, but before he could lick the salt, she grabbed his wrist.

“You can’t drink without a toast, are you insane?”

“I don’t have one.”

She rolled her eyes before coaching his arm up above his head.

“Arriba,” she said before gently guiding his hand down. “Abajo. Al centro,” she prompted him to clink his glass to hers in the center. “Por dentro.”

With that she licked the salt off her hand before throwing the shot back easily and sucking on the lime. Rowan decided not to read into the suggestive look she gave him as she did so.

When they’d finished, Aelin grabbed his hand, gesturing for him to pick up his beer before she pulled him away from the bar.

“Where are we going?” He asked, hazarding a glance back at his friends to see them all watching him with knowing smirks.

“Somewhere quieter,” Aelin said, leading him up a set of rickety stairs that lead to an upper lounge.

The low couches were open to the air and overlooked the beach, and considering how things with Aelin had begun this afternoon, it felt…dangerously romantic.

You can’t fall for this girl, he reminded himself.

She didn’t live here, and neither did he. He was busy studying for the detective exam, and she was still in college, for Christ’s sake. Whatever he did, he couldn’t catch feelings for her.

However, it was an idea that felt easier said than done as Aelin yanked him down beside her on a couch, her head propped on a fist as she studied him with those mesmerizing blue eyes. She was so beautiful it was almost hard to breathe.

“So,” she said. “Start at the beginning.”

He laughed.

“The beginning of what?”

She grinned, her lips the most kissable shade of pink.

“Everything. I want to know it all.”

IF YOU LIKED THIS AND WANT MORE, CHECK OUT PART TWO, OUT NOW! 🏐 🍺 ♥️ 

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[anothertimdrakestan]

Burn (Tim Drake x Reader) angst????

Words: 1.6k

Req: Hello!! May I request Tim x reader angst?? The song “Burn” from Hamilton is stuck in my head so why not put it into context with Tim cheating on reader?? Thanks and bring on the pain..

omg i love this song and im shit at angst but you only get better from trying right??? so lmk how i did i tried lmao hope you enjoy!

You dove into Bart’s chest as the tears began falling. “Just say it’s not true, say I’m wrong. Just say it” you clutched the fabric of his shirt while he stayed silent, his arms rubbing your back. “I- we- we all thought you guys were over I didn’t realize I would’ve said something but he was so secretive” Bart murmured while you let the sobs wrack your body. 

“All the nights he didn’t come home from the tower he was with her?” You began, pushing Bart away while you felt like tearing your hair out. “Every time he left me on read he probably wasn’t even the person I was texting” you continued spitting out the words in such a way that Bart was flinching at your delivery. “And now, when he needs a fucking reason to be out of Gotham he’s on a trip with her? Just leaving me here like it’s nothing? Like everything we had was just a fun little power trip for him?” you were yelling by now. 

“No- I mean yeah, Tim’s an idiot. But maybe it’s not true, maybe you just need to talk to him or something” Bart piped up, your head whipped around. “Yeah? Who am I gonna talk to? Mr. Taking My New Girlfriend On A Getaway Trip? You know he didn’t take me anywhere. Months. I begged for a day together and he was just too busy. He’s not too busy for her though, clearly she’s everything I’m not.” your anger was seeping from you slowly, the realization that every time he told you he was yours he was probably sharing rooms at the tower with her. “god FUCK how long has this been going on? It’s been like a month since he moved in to the tower- dammit! My friends told me this long distance bullshit doesn’t work but ‘oh y/n we’re perfect it’ll be fine! I’ll fly home all the time! We can call every night’ that turned out great didn’t it.” you felt the hot angry tears get replaced with the slow rolling tears that reminded you once again you weren’t good enough to be kept around.

“Do you- maybe- wanna talk to him?” Bart was clearly terrified of you but you appreciated his help. “B, what good is that gonna do? You know Tim as well as- better than me. He’ll give me a shitty excuse that it was ‘for the greater good’ or that I’m ‘just looking at it wrong’ you know he’s better with words than either of us he could run- dammit he has run circles around me like a fucking toy” you had begun scrolling through your phone wondering how many texts got copied and pasted to another text thread with someone he probably cared about more than you.

“So, what are you gonna do then?” Bart had sat next to you on the floor, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while you scrolled through text after text noticing every red flag or lazy text. “Y/n that’s not good to be looking at, you’ve gotta block him or something” Bart whispered, staring at your screen probably reading every message in slow motion. 

“It’s not just the messages I’ll be blocking” you whispered, letting the seething anger slide back in. In what Bart would describe as almost super human speed you began the descent to freedom, blocking, unfollowing, and deleting almost everything that was reminiscent of you and Tim. Then you got to your main instagram account. “Fuck it” you whispered, unfollowing him knowing that tabloids would be starting the smear campaign now. 

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders at an immeasurable price- the price of heartbreak which you’ll be indebted to for a long time. 

~a week later~

“I have really got to buy myself some damn pajamas” you groaned to yourself, pushing down the little lovesick demon in your head that was telling you it was okay to keep sleeping in Tim’s hoodies and sweats because maybe he’ll apologize and you can take him back and be in love again and- not gonna happen. The celebrity magazines had been lurking near your apartment for days now, waiting to hear the newest gossip and find out what truly happened as you’d been radio silent- only adding to the interest of the paparazzi. As you realized you had to go outside today you prepared yourself for the onslaught of questions. 

“Y/N L/N WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU AND MR. DRAKE-WAYNE?” “MISS Y/N WHY THE UNFOLLOW?” “HAVE YOU BEEN SEEING HIS RECENT POSTS? WHO IS THE MYSTERY GIRL?” you cringed at the last question, reminding yourself that his actions didn’t matter as he hadn’t truly been a part of your life for months. 

Before you could get into the black SUV waiting for you, you were stopped and trapped until you spoke into the microphone in front of you. “Anything you can give us on Tim Drake-Wayne and you?” you took a small breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “I’m sorry I simply just don’t know who that is” you smiled between your words, using the confused moment on the questioner’s face to slip into the car and drive off, finally letting you exhale the breath you’d been holding in. 

~two weeks later~

You almost threw up at the sound of a once familiar knock on your door. 

“Y/n, y/n I know you’re here let me in we’ve gotta talk” his voice pleaded from your hallway. After three deep breaths and promises to yourself to stay strong you opened the door. Tim looked normal, it was horrible. You had been fighting to look that normal and were barely holding together but here he was, wearing the shirt he wore the night he told you he loved you with the ever present stern look like nothing had ever gone wrong. He moved to come inside but you blocked his path. “We can talk out here. I don’t have much to say” you hissed, watching him sheepishly back off. “Y/n I just wanted a chance to explain and give my side and-” you cut him off. “Apologize. You’re here to apologize and if you aren’t you’d better leave now” you were screaming and sobbing and melting down internally but you held your composure. 

“Well, yeah, that too. But also we need to issue a public statement because yaknow it’s kinda been going so fast and I think if we could just sit down and work everything out we could stay on better terms because I am so sorry love” you flinched against your own will at the familiar nickname. You took a second to remind yourself that he was again just using his words to get the better of you, you were not going to fall for the same trick twice. “There’s no statement Tim, I’m not clearing your name or coming to your side- hell, I’m going to go work with fucking lexcorp so you won’t even have to worry about seeing me at the office. You and I are separate entities, you broke that relationship when you began the lies and the goddamn cheating, there’s no public statement I’d make that would put you in a better light you’re lucky as hell that this is all I’m saying got it?” you watched him flinch at your words and against all your control you could feel your body begging you to hug him and kiss away the pain like you’d done for months on months. 

“Y/n I want to apologize, I should’ve never- it- it was a lapse in judgement but I want to make it right” Tim pleaded, you watched his facade falter, like he truly felt sorry. “That’s great Tim, I’ll try to remember that when I remember all the nights you said you were stuck at the tower with work when you were with her okay? Sound good? You have a good one okay?” you feigned a smile, shutting the door and crumpling to the ground. 

You let yourself cry silently, burying your head in your hands. Your heart was heavy, it had been learning to beat on it’s own now, not to the beat of Tim’s and it hurt. But it was done? Not really. Not when you’re in the public eye, running a business that would eventually have to work with Wayne Ent. it wouldn’t ever truly be over. Your body was practically turning in on itself, your throat burning as you held in sobs, refusing to let anyone know how deeply this wound would scar. A scar so jagged and deep you feared if would keep your heart permanently broken. 

So how does it end? Because this was supposed to be the closure everyone said you needed. Where you give him a slap in the face for hurting you, telling him to ‘fuck off’ and instantly the pain subsides. But the pain was so intense and raw nothing felt soothing anymore. In a span of weeks you’d lost friends, hell- you’d lost family, and you’d lost love. Because no matter how hard you try to pry the words he said from your brain they creep back in. Nights when he’d call you from the Tower and explain how much he missed you and how perfect you were, days when you got texts about how he missed kissing every inch of your face, memories of the beautiful moments you’d had together that you figured you’d be telling your kids about. Those don’t just die with the relationship. They fester and they boil into your skin, they run through your veins, they flash in your head, reminding you that even when you gave every ounce of love you could muster you still weren’t enough. That’s what will forever stick. So it doesn’t every truly end does it?

Because you can’t burn away scares without leaving a deeper wound. And your wounds were deeper than you could fathom. Your wounds had just simply broken you. 

Tim Drake had broken you. 

So how the fuck do you get fixed?

[boonki]

Obikin prompt #1

A little 1.8k ficlet brought on by the prompt: 

“When the hell did you get here?!”

“I got bored of waiting around for you to kill me so I wanted to see what you were doing.”

This is pre-slash, post Mustafar, about five(???) years after Anakin’s fall. I haven’t edited this, so... please tell me where I’ve made mistakes lol. 

And send me prompts! My inbox is open for ideas :)

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It had been years since Obi-wan had seen the inside of a ship, let alone the glistening and polished interior of a star destroyer. Being voluntarily isolated on a desert planet limited the number of interactions he had with the Empire, for which he had been immensely grateful. His humble living space was already littered with memories, knick-knacks, and repressed feelings; he had long since abandoned the idea of using a mirror, not wanting to see his own measly reflection. 

The Empire was the last reminder Obi-wan needed of his own failures. 

Obi-wan twisted Anakin’s padawan braid around his fingers, one of the few things he had let himself be sentimental about in the years that followed Anakin’s fall. He had to hold onto the good memories, be reminded of the years that he had practically raised the boy. The hair was still golden in the braid, memories still golden in his head. 

The tractor beam of the star destroyer pulled him in slowly, and it gave Obi-wan a moment to sit in peace, his fate pulled too far towards his own demise to change the course now. He knew he wouldn’t walk out of here alive. 

The thought brought odd comfort. 

He pulled his force signature into himself, stifling it down to the point of discomfort and pulling up his shields as sturdy as they would go, not wanting Darth Vader to notice him before he was ready, though he knew that there was only a slim chance Vader wouldn’t recognize him immediately. They had known each other almost better than themselves, or at least Obi-wan had thought, their force signatures so entwined sometimes it had been hard to tell where one began and the other ended. There had been secrets between them, of course, truths too hard to bear witness to, but there had still been a level of trust he had never been fully able to comprehend. But now, having lost the regular, calming presence in the back of his head that he had grown so accustomed to, he didn’t want to feel how tarnished Anakin had become, how void of life, how lonely. If Anakin was even in there at all. He didn’t want to even touch Vader’s mind. 

Yoda had tried to bring him semblances of comfort during the years after Anakin’s fall, claiming the man he had known and loved had died on Mustafar, replaced by Vader. That the man in the mask was only an empty shell. And for years, Obi-wan readily believed this, desperate to find solid ground in the sinking sand his life had disintegrated into. 

But he knew better. He had years to mull it over, meditating on what he could have done differently. He knew Anakin had not simply turned to the dark side one day, that it must have been a gradual descent, and if it were gradual, it was done by putting one foot in front of the other. Anakin had walked away from him, and that stung. 

No, not stung. It was the worst thing Obi-wan had ever endured. 

His ship landed roughly in the hangar, jolting him out of his own head. He stood, bending backwards to pop his lower back, and let out a hefty sigh, shutting the ship down and popping the cockpit open, lifting an eyebrow at the small gang of troopers that had gathered outside of the ship, all pointing their rifles at him. The dim white lights of the hangar reflected off of the tops of their helmets, making them glow a bit. 

“Hello there,” he started, swinging his legs over the hull to stand on the ground, landing only with a slight twinge in his knees, which he met with an imperceptible grimace. He wasn’t used to flying long distances anymore. “Is Vader around?”

“Halt!” One of the stormtroopers commanded, taking a step towards Obi-wan, holding his rifle steady at Obi-wan’s chest. “State your purpose.” 

Obi-wan cocked his head, smiling patiently, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his long, tan robes, the ones Anakin used to hate for their beigeness. “I thought I just made that clear. I’m here to see Darth Vader, unless he’s busy at the moment, in which case I am more than happy to wait.” 

The peaceful sentiment seemed to disorient the trooper, who glanced back towards the group wordlessly. Judging by their lack of reaction, none of them quite knew what to do, didn’t have any protocol to follow. Obi-wan guessed Vader didn’t get many visitors. None that came voluntarily, that is. 

“State your name.” The stormtrooper continued, never moving his rifle away from Obi-wan’s chest. 

“Obi-wan Kenobi. You’ll find our friend knows me very well, if you wouldn’t mind passing along my greetings.” 

***

Obi-wan wasn’t entirely sure where they had been trying to escort him to, as, after turning through a few nondescript hallways that dripped in black and white monotone, Darth Vader made his entrance, and Obi-wan had to hold back the small smile at how the menacing figure never lost his dramatic streak: some part of Anakin lived on, even if it was the part of him that had given Obi-wan premature grey hairs. His black cloak billowed behind him as he had turned the corner, and after letting the amusement pass through him, shock and horror crept up the back of Obi-wan’s throat. 

This was what he had done to Anakin. 

No- this was what Anakin had done to himself. 

They came to a stop, meeting in the middle, leaving a good distance between themselves.

Obi-wan lowered the hood of his robe, knowing that Vader already knew who he was, but letting him get a better look at him. Letting him see the wrinkles and sun-spots that had peppered his face in the past five years. 

Silence stretched in the gulf between them, tense and unwavering, almost palpable. Obi-wan took in every inch of him: the long black suit that gave him a few extra inches to his already tall stature, the dark helmet that glared hatred back at the viewer, the life support panel strapped to his chest that allowed for the heavy, static breathing. Obi-wan thought of Anakin, his dear, beautiful boy who loved open, free spaces, trapped forever inside this hulk of metal. 

Vader lifted his eyes to the stormtroopers that flanked Obi-wan, and to his surprise Vader sounded a little unsure of himself, as if genuinely taken aback. Maybe Obi-wan had hid himself better than he had thought. “Leave us.” 

They did so without hesitation, leaving the pair alone in the hallway, letting fate take its course. 

Obi-wan swallowed, trying to push down the lump in his throat. “Hello there.” He sounded old, heartbroken, and strangely tinny to his own ears. 

“When did you get here?” Vader asked, genuine confusion lacing the hatred of his tone. 

Obi-wan considered the truth, and landed on a joke to cushion it instead. “I got bored of waiting around for you to kill me, so I wanted to see what you were doing, old friend.”

Vader rushed forwards, grabbing Obi-wan by the throat with a snarl, the force swirling with darkness around him. “I am not your friend. You were merely a pawn stopping me on my path to greatness.” Anger hung on every word, even through the raspy vocalizer the words had to filter through. 

Obi-wan grasped Vader’s forearm, not trying to push him off. “I was only a pawn?” he tried to laugh, but Vader’s hold on his throat was too strong, “you were everything to me, dear one.” He rasped out, his windpipe slowly being crushed by Vader’s firm grip. 

Vader pushed him away, sending Obi-wan stumbling backwards in a coughing fit, righting himself through the force, and even through his shields he could feel the surge of fury seep into the force at the endearment, and wasn’t at all surprised when the room glowed by the light of Vader’s lightsaber. 

Obi-wan had come prepared to die, but the glimmer of red bouncing off the edges of Vader’s suit solidified what was happening. It didn’t seem real until then. 

A small part of Obi-wan had hoped Anakin wouldn’t have been able to kill him, that whatever had been between them would be enough. It hadn’t been in the past, Obi-wan thought bitterly. 

Obi-wan watched Vader take a steadying breath, twirling his saber around like Anakin had always done before deciding the best plan of action. 

“I have dreamed of killing you, Kenobi. Of letting you burn and suffer the same way you let me suffer. I’ve had dreams of cutting off your limbs one by one until you had nothing left.” The words were cruel, frightening almost, if Obi-wan hadn’t been able to hear the small, scared child underneath the wrath. 

“Bit dramatic don’t you think?” He answered, hitting the k hard at the end of the sentence, readjusting his robes from where they had slid sideways with Vader’s shove. “Well, get one with it then. I said I had been waiting.”  

Even through the suit, Obi-wan could sense his hesitation. “Aren’t you going to fight?” Vader asked him, as if challenging him. 

Obi-wan drew in a long suffering sigh, like he always did before diving into a lecture. “No, Anakin,” Vader’s body flinched at the name, “I don’t think I will. We fought before, and it didn’t quite work out for either of us. I’ve accepted that I failed you as a Master, as a… friend. I’m sorry you didn’t feel that you could trust me. You deserved better than what I had given you, and now I am here to atone for it. I’m ready to be one with the force.” Obi-wan exhaled, pursing his lips together. That was probably the most words he had said in one go in a long time, and something in his chest loosened, unraveling with the confession. 

There was a lull in the conversation, as if Vader needed a moment to consider what Obi-wan had said. To be fair, Obi-wan thought, this was probably not how Vader thought his day was going to go. 

“You came here… to apologize?” All of Vader’s anger had fled, leaving only sincere distress. 

“Well,” Obi-wan smiled, mirth creasing the edges of his eyes, “I didn’t quite think I’d make it this far. But yes, I suppose I did, in a way.” 

Vader drew back in his lightsaber, the hallway descending back into darkness, only the dim lights of the walkway illuminating their faces. 

Obi-wan wanted nothing more than to let his shields crack just a little, just to reach out and see what Vader was thinking. But as soon as a tendril of the force brushed up against Anakin’s mind, he was thrown back into his own head, sharp and dangerous. Vader clearly wasn’t ready for that. 

“Come.” Vader ordered, turning on his heel and marching into the depths of the ship, not waiting for Obi-wan to follow him. With only a twitch of the eyebrow to betray his bafflement at the change of heart, Obi-wan followed.

Anakin had once left him like this, step by step into the dark side, going to a place Obi-wan could never follow. He could only hope these new steps lead somewhere different, somewhere brighter, somewhere they could meet in the middle. He supposed he’d have to start walking to figure out.