#the way i let out a deep melancholic sigh while making each gif

[aslibekroglu]

ÖMER (2023) EPISODE 24 | S2EP3

[look-at-the-soul]

All we’d ever need (Part 11)

Tommy Shelby x reader

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Sorry it took me a while, been a bit busy lately… ✨🥰

Let’s give @lyarr24 some ⭐️⭐️⭐️ for the fantastic idea we’re enjoying 🌻🤗

Tommy rolled over in bed, he was ready to wrap his arms around Y/N, even though when she had been repeating she felt so hot and would sleep in her underwear even with the current weather, it was necessary to light the fire, so his body heat was a big no for her. But the place next to his side was empty and she didn’t slap him in the arm in order to move him away this time.

His heartbeat rate was out of control, in seconds his body tensed and he soon realized of the noise somewhere in the house.

Taking his gun out from the drawer, Tommy hurried, there was silence upstairs, taking a look at the door it was locked, maybe they broke in through the back door of the kitchen, he moved past the drawing room and as soon as his eyes found the responsible for the noise, Tommy let a deep breath out and his arm with the gun dropped down.

Y/N was eating something, her back at him but he could see the fork she was holding in her hand while her hips wriggled from side to side.

“I thought the doctor ordered you rest.”

“Jesus Christ! You scared me.”

“My name is Tommy Shelby.” He grinned and held the chair open for her.

“The nightmares again?” She could tell Tommy was worried about something, but he wasn’t telling her the reason.

Sighing, Tommy took a couple of the cherries Y/N’s Mum brought them from the basket. “No, I turned around and you weren’t there.” Touching her skin, he looked so vulnerable.

Y/N moved his fringe away from his eyes with her fingertips. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He lied.

He was worried for her and the baby. Tommy caressed her cheek with his knuckles, Y/N knew him so well immediately recognizing something wasn’t right, but before the silence could be filled with another round of questions he couldn’t answer at the moment, he decided to confess something else.

“This is the third time I dream with a girl.” Tommy confessed kissing the top of her head. “Couldn’t see her face though.”

“Again?” Y/N saw him nod. “Polly woke me up yesterday touching my boobs, my Mum wanted to know if it’s a boy or a girl, but I told her we don’t want to know.”

Tommy chuckled.

“Do you want to know?” Maybe he changed his mind.

“Oh, no I want it to be a surprise too.”

“Maybe you have a gift like Polly.”

Could it be? Through dreams? Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

“What are you doing up at this time?” He asked Y/N.

“Just wanted some pie, I couldn’t eat it earlier because I felt sick…” Y/N licked the cherries jam from her finger.

“At three in the morning?” Tommy placed the gun on the counter and started to make some tea. Turning around, he let his eyes lay on Y/N, her bump suddenly seemed bigger. After the incident at the clinic, the bump seemed to have popped up.

“Baby is hungry.” She grinned walking towards Tommy.

“Yeah?” Leaning in, he captured her lips, tasting the cherries in her mouth. “What about the baby’s mama?” Nibbling at her neck, Tommy took her hand in his and placed it over his pajama pants. “Daddy is hard.”

The thought of his child growing inside of her turned him on.

She purred and closed her eyes, he just unleashed something wild inside of her.

“Tommy…” He loved the way his name sounded in her lips. “We can’t… the doctor said…”

“I know.” He let out a deep breath, but continued to assault her neck. “I know… but there are other ways.” He proposed in a low voice that sent a shiver through her entire body.

“Oh.”

***

“I’m glad you’re staying over Y/N, otherwise we don’t see each other much.” Ada walked into the bedroom after the doctor came over for the routine check up.

Y/N smiled at Karl when he pulled up the covers and scared his Mum.

“I just wish this was under different circumstances.” Y/N admitted with a melancholic tone, she was holding the folded piece of paper that Tommy left that morning under her pillow before he left. He had a meeting with Campbell first thing in the morning in a church, Tommy disliked less being in a church than a meeting with Campbell, and that was saying a lot coming from him.

“Bet your Mum and Polly will come back with at least half of the things in the store.”

“Tommy already bought most of the things we’ll need.”

“He did that?” Ada tried to put on Karl’s shoes, but soon she gave up. “Well, I guess he just can’t control his excitement of being a father.”

Y/N thought of the scary times they had been through, using it to grow and learn from their mistakes, now they talked all the time and communicated effectively. They were practically at the best moment of their relationship.

“Tommy thinks it’s a girl, said he’s been dreaming of a girl with dark curls.”

Ada smiled widely. “He’s going to go crazy around if it happens to be true.” Placing her hand over Y/N’s bump, she added: “He always said he wanted to be a good father, not like our dad. That man would beat us badly when Finn cried, you know?… Once Tommy and I were carrying a bucket of beer for him and I stumbled and half of the alcohol fell to the ground, when we arrived home, dad hit Tommy with the belt and when it was my turn, he took the beating for me.”

Y/N’s heart broke by the story Ada just told her. It made her feel melancholic to know a sad memory of the man she loved.

“Am sorry… I’m supposed to share the embarrassing moments not the family shit we’ve been through.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s alright, that’s part of his life too.” Tommy had told her he would never hit or raise his voice at their children, he was serious when he said he would be the best parent he could.

Ada sighed loudly, they lived things a child shouldn’t live. She started to move to get Karl something to eat.

“Before you go, I have something for you, look in the first drawer of the wardrobe please.”

“Ah, Y/N you don’t need to get me anything.”

“You’ve been helping me a lot Ada, and I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

Ada gave her the same look Tommy did, the looked so much alike. “Y/N you are family, there’s nothing to thank me for.” She found a small box.

“Nevertheless, this is the only way I can payback.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” Ada took the solitaire ring from the box, it was a gorgeous sapphire. Her sister in law walked towards the bed again to give her a hug.

Ada knew Y/N gave away jewels as if it was a handmade scarf, she had a generous heart.

Since James was visiting a friend to have a writing session, Y/N was a good company to her. And Tommy had been mad worried about her, so keeping her in Primrose Hill, away from Campbell was the best for now.

“Can you watch Karl for two minutes? I’m going to make a call.”

“Go ahead, Ada.”

As she was alone in the room with Karl playing with the wooden cubes, Y/N took the piece of paper and read Tommy’s words again:

She is a wild child with a gypsy soul that dances with the stars. She has a free spirit, a reckless mind and a rebel heart that isn’t meant to be tamed. Love her wild and you will never lose her. Ps. If it’s a boy I will write something else. Love, Tommy.

Her eyes filled with tears, she was touched by his gestures, constantly caressing her bump, telling her she looked beautiful, thanking her for carrying his child, the way he was with her was completely different to the Thomas Shelby the rest of the world knew. The contrast between the way he was with her and the other people, even his own family was evident. He was always making her feel secure and loved, she trusted him with her heart and soul.

Now, she was fully convinced he would be the best father for their child.

“Ada said Karl was here.” Polly walked in after a small knock on the door, taking the kid in her arms.

“Have you seen my Mum, godmother?”

“She’s packing…your dad made a mistake with a customer’s order and she is scared he will get wrong something else.”

“She usually leaves the gemstones organized just as my sketches so he will just place them.”

“You know how men are.” She saw her godmother roll her eyes.

***

He had three weeks to kill Henry Wilson, but deep down he knew Campbell was taking that moment to make sure he died as well, he was just using the Crown’s orders as an excuse. Or at least he would get hanged for the charges, he had talked to Arthur and John about it, both brothers agreed that he couldn’t do it directly, if something went wrong, he wouldn’t be able to do anything else from prison. Arthur said he didn’t want John to get involved in that, so he offered to pull the trigger. But he would die anyways if he didn’t follow the orders of The Crown and the pro-treaty paddies, either way, he was in the fucking middle of a crossfire… if only his plan worked the way it had been playing in his mind, he could succeed on the assassination of the MP. His plans always seemed to work in the end, but still, now he was just worried about Y/N and his baby, what would they do if something happened to him? What about Polly and his brothers? Ada? And the rest of the family? He had a long list of people to protect, to look after.

And now, on top of everything else, he had a child to think of, he would be responsible for someone that was literally a part of him. What he had wanted for so long.

He needed to talk to Polly to make sure all his money, properties and assets such as horses, cars, factories, would belong to Y/N and their child. The third part of the Shelby Company Limited as well. The worry was getting the best of him at the moment. He still had so many things to do.

His mind was busy during the drive from the church to the betting shop with the different options he had, he needed to distract Campbell from the races, get the Lee’s in position, Sabini wouldn’t even know where to look at… he still needed to decide what to do about Campbell.

Tommy took the papers and signed them right there over Lizzie’s desk. If he didn’t, Polly would remind him for the rest of the fucking day.

“Are you going to send the books to Y/N?” Lizzie asked him taking the papers.

“No, she’s been having a couple of rough days, I’ll check them later.” He was passing the envelopes from the mail until his eyes stopped at the calligraphy he knew so well. Tommy took the letter opener from the desk.

“Mr. Shelby, you have a meeting wit-”

“Cancel it.” And with that he marched to his office.

Taking off his coat, he left it over a chair and walked straight to his bar to take a glass and a bottle of whiskey.

After the war he thought he was empty, then Grace came in and momentarily made him believe a man like him could find love, he knew she wasn’t made for this kind of life, he doubted the authenticity of her feelings and he still blamed himself for allowing her to hurt him the way she did. But in the end, he was glad it happened, because thanks to that, he was able to later find something genuine and healing in Y/N.

Should he burn it like the previous ones? Give it to Y/N and let her decide what was best? Why was Grace still writing to him if she was married and happy as she mentioned at the last letter he read from her, he never wrote back though, it was some weeks before he met Y/N. After they got together he stopped opening them. There was no need to go back to what had hurt him in the past.

That’s where Grace belonged.

His mind racing, thinking of his next moves.

Pouring the amber liquid, he downed it in seconds, pouring a second one, then after lighting his cigarette, he took a seat. Taking a moment to take a deep breath to clear his mind, he could feel a lot of things right there… already imagining different scenarios developing, then he allowed himself to take the envelope in his hand to open the letter inside.

Dear Tommy,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wonder why you’re not answering my letters, I’ve already explained the only way to save you was by talking to Inspector Campbell, I hope you can forgive me one day for that. My nights are not the same without you, I’ve never stopped thinking of you. New York is incredible, there are some fantastic buildings, you would like that. But I’m writing because I’ve just arrived, there are a lot of things happening but I can’t tell you over a letter, can we meet in person? There are so many things left unsaid between us, what we had… can’t be forgotten overnight. Allow me to make it up to you. I’m staying at the Ritz Hotel, in London, Piccadilly. Suite 5.

The enemy you loved once, Yours, Grace.

Tommy left the paper on his desk and took the phone between his fingers, when the woman on the commuter answered and asked where did he want to call, he answered:

“Ritz Hotel.”

***

Next part

*Poem by Madiha Batool

There’s still more to come!

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[drspencerweed]

Dear Spence - Night 6

spencer reid x fem!reader

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fic summary: Going undercover as serial killer bait was simple. Going undercover as serial killer bait three months after being kidnapped was not so simple. Going undercover with the love of my life and having to pretend to be in love with him while also pretending I was pretending was….well it was about as complicated as it sounds.

chapter summary: There's always a twist when I get what I want.

chapter word count: 4.8k

content: Rated M (16+) fem!reader, mentions of past kidnapping, trauma responses, nightmares, descriptions of past kidnapping, canon-typical violence, fake relationship, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, only one bed trope

tw for this chapter: negative self-talk, descriptions of anxiety, slight sexual mentions

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[Prologue] [Night 1] [Night 2] [Night 3] [Night 4] [Night 5]

I stood at the window peeking through the curtains out onto the street, the moon illuminating wherever the streetlights didn’t touch. Gripping the window sill, I pressed my forehead into the cold glass, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry.

When I had woken up that morning, Spencer was already in the shower. The bed next to me was still warm, so he couldn’t have been gone long. I sat up with a stretch, bringing a hand to my eyes to rub out the sleepiness there. Both arms fell to the bed after that, and I stared down at my hands as I listened to the shower running.

All I could do was wait for the other shoe to drop. He would figure out my secret soon enough.

I got ready while he was in the shower and went into the kitchen to make breakfast, and once he came out from his shower we acted like the perfect couple. Each touch felt charged in a way it hadn’t before. I didn’t know when exactly he figured it out- but I knew he knew. The way he looked at me, the hesitancy in his touch that wasn’t there before, the way casual ‘I love you’s had slipped out of his vocabulary.

Blinking back tears, I remembered he had feelings for someone else. The hesitancy was probably because it was harder for him to pretend I was them, knowing how I felt. But then he would do something with no hesitation - kiss me or lace our fingers together or pull my legs over his lap - and I would feel the slightest bit of hope. Maybe he hadn’t yet figured it out, and the moments of pause I saw were just because of the secret he knew I was keeping from him.

It wasn’t like we could really talk about it. He only tried to guide me to the bedroom once all day. I reminded him how sick I had been the day before and said I wasn’t in the mood. Behind his eyes he saw through me, but he dropped the subject.

And now I stood here, waiting for the rejection that was certainly coming any second, while he made himself tea before bed.

My melancholic thoughts were interrupted by my phone blaring through the room. It shocked me so much I bounced my head on the window, and my hand flew to it in pain. “Fuck!” I shouted, grabbing my phone and flipping it over. “[Y/L/N].” I answered curtly.

“I thought you’d be more excited to speak with me considering it’s been six whole days!” Penelope’s voice rang in my ear and instantly soothed me. My head was still slightly pounding but it felt like I could breathe for the first time all day.

“I didn’t even check the caller ID, you scared me. I so missed you, Pen.” I confessed. There was no way to conceal the thickness in my voice.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Her voice became concerned in an instant. “A little birdie may have mentioned some complications-”

“Emily told you?” I asked, shocked she would betray my trust like that.

“Emily? No, Derek told me how nervous Spencer was to do this with you. I thought maybe Boy Wonder hadn’t been the best undercover partner.” Penelope explained. I let out a sigh of relief, but that didn’t go unnoticed by Penelope either. “Is there something else? What does Emily know? Oh I’m going to kill her-”

“Pen! I love you and I swear I’ll tell you when the time is right, but I assume there’s a reason you called?” As I was speaking, Spencer slipped into the bedroom holding a mug of tea. “Spencer’s here, I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Oh hello boy genius!” Penelope nearly squealed, and Spencer’s face lit up when he recognized her voice.

“Hi Pen! What’s going on?” I could tell he wanted to say more, tell her how much he missed her, but he stopped himself. His hands curled into fists in excitement and he rolled slightly onto the balls of his feet before sitting down on the edge of the bed in front of me.

“Yes, yes, I’m calling for business reasons! So we have good news and bad news, which would you like to hear first?” Penelope asked. I looked up at Spencer who shrugged slightly.

Scrambling, I blurted out, “Good news.”

“Well, we have a name on our unsub.” My eyes met Spencer’s instantly. I expected to feel better about coming to the end of everything, but it was laced with all of the anxiety around my inevitable conversation with Spencer. If we went home tonight, it might be easier to avoid. Or harder. It was a mixed bag of emotions, for sure. Spencer’s face reflected the same confliction.

Penelope kept talking, completely oblivious to the tense energy that had settled between the two of us. “You were both right, of course, a voyeur who became impotent. His name is Timothy Clark, he’s 44, and he recently went on pills for erectile dysfunction. He went to juvie as a child for peeping through windows, but the record was hidden once he turned 18.”

“Th-That’s great!” I said with false enthusiasm. Spencer’s eyes dropped from mine and I diverted my attention to the suddenly interesting ceiling.

“Does that mean the mission is over?” Spencer asked, which was going to be my next question.

“That’s where we reach the bad news. Unfortunately, though this guy fits the profile to a T, and his whereabouts are unaccounted for on the days of the crimes, we don’t have enough to bring him in. All the connections we have are circumstantial, and Hotch wants to make sure that when we get him, we get him.” Penelope explained.

I already knew where this was headed. This unsub always struck on the seventh night after his surveillance started. That was tomorrow. We were going to have to stay until then, and probably let him at least break into the house. Spencer’s eyes snapped to mine as the understanding dawned on him as well.

“Pen, you cannot actually be suggesting-”

“The whole team is going to be running surveillance from around the corner, all you guys have to do is what you’ve already been doing.” She explained, somewhat cheerful. I felt the anxiety of being targeted again crawling up my throat, and I tried to swallow it down. As soon as I felt it, I began to feel inadequate. I had taken this job knowing this was a possibility. Even when I wasn’t undercover I had to face this everyday. If I couldn’t handle this, then what was I even doing here?

Spencer could see the distress on my face, even as I tried to conceal it. “Garcia, I don’t think it’s smart to use us as literal bait. With the listening devices we won’t be able to catch him off guard.”

“I’m so sorry, my love, but there is no other way. Hotch wants you guys to come up with the game plan on your end, as you guys are most familiar with the house and what he can hear and can’t hear. I know they mentioned you guys could possibly wait in the bedroom, but I think they were concerned he would try and peep first which would blow our cover.”

Spencer ran a hand down his face in exasperation and I took in a shaky breath. We were going to have to let this man attack us. I would have my gun on me, of course, but that was it. No other protection, no other contact with the outside world for a warning.

“We know he strikes at night. Have we been able to narrow the time frame other than that?” I asked shakily. Spencer reached out a hand and I grabbed it. His thumb ran over my fingers lightly as I tried to keep it together.

“Unfortunately we haven’t. We know he enters the home after sundown, and kills them right before sunrise, but there’s no indication on what time at night he comes in.” Penelope stated. I bit down on my bottom lip and stared up at the ceiling, trying not to lose myself in flashbacks. The back of my neck felt cold.

Suddenly Spencer stood up. His hand stayed gripped in mine, and we stood basically toe to toe, the phone between us. “Wait, what about the ritual? The peeping? Don’t we think he does that first?”

“Yes, Morgan was saying he was hopeful that it wasn’t a required part of the ritual so you guys wouldn’t have to, well,” I could see her cringing around the next words so clearly it was like she was in the room with me. “entice him.”

Spencer and I locked eyes, and I watched his brain run a mile a minute. “Garcia, can you remind me of the timelines between when the unsub first hacked the smart devices and the murders in each case?” I knew he knew them by heart, and asking for the reminder probably meant he had figured something else out.

“Yes! The first two couples and the last were killed exactly 7 days after their devices were hacked, but couple number 3 was murdered 9 days after.” Garcia read off.

“That’s what I thought.” Spencer sighed, running a tired hand through his hair. “I think that means he won’t strike until he has the chance to spy on them. The Klein’s had conflicting work schedules, so their sex life was probably the least active. The unsub probably came to the house starting on the seventh night, and waited until he had the chance to properly complete his ritual.”

“Oh my god.” The realization hit me the way I assumed it had hit Spencer.

“Wait, so does that mean...” Garcia trailed off.

“We’re going to have to-” I cut myself off, embarrassed to be standing so close to Spencer and holding his hand as I said them. Not to mention that I was certain he was aware of my feelings by now.

“Give him a show?” Penelope said weakly. I closed my eyes shut hard.

“Yea, that’s one way to put it.” My head fell down weakly, the top of it resting on Spencer’s chest as I tried to even out my breathing. The hand that wasn’t holding mine came up to cradle my head, stroking my hair.

“Just throw the covers over you and keep the lights off! Boring, vanilla, newly-married sex is always like that anyway, right?” Penelope suggested lightly. Her voice was tight, probably hearing the discomfort in my voice.

“We’ll figure out a way to do it where we can both be comfortable. How are we meant to alert the others once he breaks in?” Spencer asked. He was asking the important questions, the ones I should have been asking. But my brain was elsewhere. It was wrapped up in the fear and anxiety of being confronted with an unsub again, and the fear and anxiety from having to pretend to have sex with Spencer. My mind was racing through all the different possible repercussions.

There were the obvious ones - death, mortal injury, Spencer’s death or mortal injury, general trauma - the risks and fears we faced everyday with this job. Those had all been amplified since my kidnapping; being so close to death makes each step back towards it far scarier. And then there were the personal consequences. Now that Spencer knew my feelings, there was no doubt in my mind he would be incredibly uncomfortable with what we had to do tomorrow night. We could both be professional, and we would finish the mission for sure, but there was no coming back from that.

Not to mention the way it would crack my heart into two whole pieces, having to lay under him, and pretend, and know he was thinking of someone, anyone else.

I was so lost in my head I didn’t even notice Penelope saying goodbye, tears blurring my vision and a lump forming in my throat. Spencer pulling the phone out of my hand was the only thing that snapped me back into reality, out of my spinning thoughts. His arm wrapped around me and pulled me into his chest, but the contact made my mind race more. Suddenly conscious of all points of contact between us, I pulled away quickly and practically ran to the other side of the room.

Loud sobs wracked my body, but I tried to bite them back into my fist as I faced the wall away from Spencer.

“[Y/N]?” He asked hesitantly. I couldn’t bear to look back at him.

“I’m so sorry.” I responded, voice thick with tears and shoulders shaking from anxiety.

“What? What do you have to be sorry for?” He was closer to me, approaching me apprehensively from the sound of his footsteps.

“Just- everything. You don’t have to keep pretending to be okay with everything. I know you know, and I can’t imagine how much you hate me-”

“Hate you? Why would I ever hate you?” He sounded genuinely distressed, and I turned around to find him only a few feet from me, his face more confused than I’d ever seen it. My face was surely a mess, red and blotchy and wet from my crying.

“Because I’ve been- because of this week. And especially because of tomorrow.” I admitted, sniffling and wrapping my arms around myself in a weak form of protection. His confusion only grew.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to this mission if anything we had to do was going to make me uncomfortable. Tomorrow night isn’t ideal, of course, but we won’t have to do anything too different from what we’ve already been doing.” Spencer explained, running a hand through his hair.

“You hadn’t read the letter when you agreed to the mission.” I said quietly, finally getting to the point. To what we had been dancing around.

“This is-you think I would hate you because of the letter?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, overwhelmed, and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “You still won’t even tell me what the letter is about, and I thought I’d figured it out today but-”

“You still don’t know?” I interrupted. He glanced up at me and swallowed.

“I-I thought I did but this reaction has me second guessing.” He admitted, “I don’t know why I would hate you.” He said the second part under his breath, as if he was still trying to work it out. I rubbed my hands over my upper arms in a small attempt to comfort myself.

“What did you think it was?” I dared to ask. His eyes met mine in an instant, his mouth fumbling around his words.

“I don’t want to be wrong.” He said. I knew he wouldn’t be, I knew he knew the truth. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

“Please, Spencer.” I said, biting down hard on my bottom lip. He wrung his fingers together in front of him as he stood up, only slightly closer to me but it felt like he had traveled a mile.

“I thought that the secret was that you loved me. Not-not as a friend. Not the way I always thought but-but the way that I love you.” He said the last part so quietly, I almost didn’t catch it.

It felt like everything froze. Those three words stuttered time to a halt, my heart stopped beating, everything except for him and his voice disappeared. I blinked rapidly. I couldn’t believe it, that I had actually heard him say that. “What?”

“Am I right?” He asked, very hesitantly, staring at his hands and only stealing glances at me. My brain caught up with reality, I had actually heard him say that. Spencer Reid was standing in front of me saying he loved me. And he was clearly quite nervous about it, despite how much I had done to show him I loved him. He was in denial in the face of such a blatant confession like my letter, and I couldn’t leave him in the dark any longer.

I crossed the short distance between us and pulled him in by the neck, kissing him soundly. His hands found my hips as our lips molded together, running up over my back to pull me in closer. My hands weaved into his hair, our lips slotted together, passion pouring through us. We had kissed before, countless times this week, but it had never felt like this. It had never been with knowledge that it was real. That it was because we both wanted it.

When I pulled away I only left enough space for us to breathe. “When have you ever been wrong, Spencer?” I asked, and he laughed brightly, arms wrapping around my waist and lifting me off the ground from elation.

“Apparently I’ve been wrong for a while. I never thought you loved me back.” He admitted, spinning me around once before setting me back down and brushing my hair behind my ear. “I can’t believe how much time we’ve wasted.”

“Don’t think like that. Think about how much time we have now.” I answered, unable to contain my grin as I thought about what this meant. How much this changed things, for the better. How many fears this relieved, how long I had been waiting for this despite never believing it would come.

Spencer caught my lips in his again, our grins not quite fading as we tried to kiss through our happiness. “I love you. So much.” I whispered in between kisses. He hummed, hands running down my arms to grip at my hands on his cheeks.

“I know. The letter- I can’t believe I was so in denial. I just couldn’t believe that after all this time, you were right here, and my fear was the only thing standing in between us.” He explained. “I think I knew right away, when I read it, but I just couldn’t accept it until today.”

“What finally clicked?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“It was surprisingly mundane. You brought me my coffee, and it was made perfectly, and I realized I’ve never even told you my coffee order. You smiled and kissed me and I just knew. You looked at me the way that I look at you. I don’t know how I never saw it.” He held my waist again, and my arms fell to rest against his shoulders.

I smiled and giggled, so happy I didn’t know how to express it. “Don’t feel bad, I didn’t realize you loved me until you said it about five minutes ago.”

“And here I was thinking I had been so obvious. Derek never lets me forget it when I embarrass myself in front of you.” He chuckled. I pulled him down for a short kiss, unable to stop myself now that I could do so whenever I wanted to.

Or at least I intended it to be a short kiss, but Spencer clearly had other ideas. His arms wrapped tightly around my back, keeping our bodies pressed together as our lips danced, small nips and sucks only emphasized by the way our hands roamed over each other’s bodies. His lips trailed from my own down the side of my neck, biting lightly.

“Fuck, Spence.” I threw my head back, exposing more skin that Spencer immediately nipped down and then soothed over with his tongue. Using a grip on his hair I pulled his lips back to mine, hitching a leg over his hip to try and get closer than we already were. His hand came down to support my thigh, shuffling us backwards slightly so my back was pressed against the wall of the bedroom.

As soon as we were pressed tightly together, I could feel his bulge pressing into my own clothed core, and I whimpered against his mouth. Spencer pulled back slightly, pressing our foreheads together and taking a deep breath.

“If you keep making noises like that, I’m not going to be able to stop. And I don’t want our first time to be here, like this.” He admitted, panting slightly. I bit my lip and rolled my hips up, giving him enough pressure that he groaned, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. “Please don’t tempt me.”

I giggled at his reaction, but grabbed his cheeks so we could look into each other's eyes. “I agree, but we’re going to sleep in the same bed and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands completely to myself.”

At the mention of the bed, his eyes dropped to the floor. “We have to. With-With tomorrow-” My heart sunk, the elation from learning Spencer loved me had momentarily distracted me from the overwhelming anxiety about tomorrow night.

“I’d nearly forgotten.” I admitted quietly, catching his eyes again. I dropped my leg from Spencer’s hip, but kept my arms around his neck and played with his hair. “I kind of zoned out when Pen was explaining the actual game plan. How are we alerting everybody else?”

Spencer’s mouth twisted. “There’s a smart device right next to the back door, and Penelope will be listening in so she’ll alert everybody the moment he steps inside. They’re all going to be nearby but we’ll have to do the initial ambush.”

My breath hitched as I thought about lying in wait for someone to attack us, to attack Spencer. He reached a hand up to my cheek and caught my lips in a tender kiss. “I’ll be right here. We’ll be safe. Our guns will be under the pillows the whole night, and we’re expecting him. We have the upperhand.” My eyes shut and I took a shaky breath.

“What about-What are we gonna do before? How are we going to fake it?” I asked. If the circumstances were different I had no doubt we would be in bed together right this second, but of course we had to deal with this first. There was no way that the first time I was with Spencer would be with even the slightest risk of some whack job listening or watching.

“I figure, we just don’t go any further than we already have? I don’t want to- not like that.” Spencer said.

“Of course not. When I get to have you, I want to have you to myself. No looming threat of death above my head.” I said what we were both thinking. Spencer nodded solemnly. “Though, there’s a small part of me that keeps saying we should do it now, because who knows what will happen tomorrow,” I admitted. Sharing my fears with Spencer came easily, easier than I expected. We had always been close, but now that our feelings were out in the open, it was like the last wall was shattered.

“I feel that way too. But I’d rather wait, and get to do it right, then rush it tonight because of fear.” Spencer explained. “So we can, uhm. Throw the covers over us, maybe take off just our shirts? Or have extra under the pillows to throw out to make it look like we stripped. Then it’s just- the motions.” I nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath and leaning my head back against the wall.

“We’ll lock the front door tomorrow, but not the back. We’ll come in here, take our showers, and then have boring fake sex completely under the covers with the lights off, and when we hear the back door open we get into position. When he tries to break in here, we ambush him and catch this fucker.” I said it all monotonously, running through it without the emotion I was feeling. If I laid it out rationally maybe I could deny the panic that was setting in, the way my lungs didn’t seem to fill, the way my hands were beginning to shake.

I brought my hands away from Spencer’s neck, down to cover my face and press into my eyes. Spencer must have seen the loss of contact as the end of the moment as he went to pull away. My hands quickly reached for his waist and tugged him closer, burying my face in his chest. His arms wrapped tight around me, stroking over my sides. I took a deep breath, breathing him in. “I don’t know if I can do it.” I whispered, the fear of not living up to what was expected of me taking over. When I thought for more than a moment about being face to face with an unsub again, my heart raced and my vision went fuzzy. How would I hold up when there was no choice but to face it?

Spencer’s large hands stroked up and down my back. “I’m not going to lie to you and say that it’s going to be easy. But I know you can do this. And if you can’t, then that’s okay - I’ll be right here the whole time.” His words barely registered as I began spiraling again, barely able to get a full breath.

“But what if I can’t do it and then you get hurt. Spencer if something- If you ever-” I choked on my words, gripping him tighter. The feeling of his solid body was the only thing grounding me, the rhythmic up-and-down of his hands on my back, his chest rising with his breath, the thud of his heartbeat against my cheek.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I can’t promise you that nothing bad will happen. What I can promise you is I will be doing everything in my power to keep us both safe, and I believe that you’ll be able to do it too. You’re strong, you’re powerful, and you’re one of the most resilient people I’ve ever known. Your ability to get the job done was one of the first things I admired about you.” As he spoke I pulled back to look at him, still trying to catch my breath and blink back tears. “I love you. We can do this. And after this, if you never want to go undercover again, or if you want to quit the team, or whatever you need to do to feel safe, you can do it. And I will be right there with you.” His eyes bore into mine, deadly serious.

I bit down on my shaky bottom lip, overwhelmed with love for this man. I didn’t know what I would need after this. I had been ignoring the lingering effects of my kidnapping for so long, and I knew recovery wouldn’t be easy. But it wasn’t as scary knowing he would be there with me.

“I love you.” I whispered, my voice still shaky and cracking, my breath still not completely regulated. He pulled me back into him, cradling my head in his chest.

We stood there until I could breathe again, until my racing thoughts fell away and I could handle being away from him. Not that I wanted to be. We got ready for bed in tandem, only inches from each other the whole time. He had an arm wrapped around my waist as we brushed our teeth, giggling together as he spit over my shoulder. I pressed a sticky toothpaste kiss to his cheek before I wiped my own mouth, which made him groan and chuckle.

He washed his face while I climbed into bed, pulling the covers tight around myself and curling into a ball. When I stayed in one position for too long my body still shook, anxiety coming out in small tremors across my whole body. I took deep breaths in my nose and out my mouth, trying to ground myself.

I didn’t even notice Spencer in the room until his arms were wrapping around me. They snaked around my waist, hands pressing into the skin of my stomach under my pajama shirt. My arms and legs were still trembling, but the warmth of his chest against my back relaxed me slightly, and I settled back into him.

Warm lips pressed into my shoulder. “I love you.” He whispered. “I can’t believe I finally get to show you how much.”

I turned over in his arms, wrapping a leg around his hips. My arms found their way around his neck, my hands cradling his face. “I love you too.” Our lips pressed together tenderly, my hands now the only part of me shaking. When we separated, our foreheads pressed together, I took a deep breath. “I’m scared.” I admitted quietly. Of so many things, I thought, of the unsub, of myself, of losing you. Everything feels fragile.

His hands traced the line of my spine, pulling me so I was resting against his chest. I settled my cheek against his heart, and felt his chest vibrate as he spoke. “Me too, but I’ll keep you safe.”

In the quiet of the night, with his arms wrapped tightly around me, I could almost believe it.

Night 7

<<<<>>>>

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[highsviolets]

waterfall inquiry: javier peña x reader

pairing: javier peña x young analyst!reader

summary: words should not make you feel so much.

warnings: age gap. kissing. and - the worst of all - f e e l i n g s. (soft ones)

a/n: [edited 10 June ‘21] this was supposed to be three parts...and now there’s more. I regret nothing :) 

[next] [series masterlist] [main masterlist] * gif: @anakin-skywalker​

“Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name”

 “as kingfishers catch fire” | gerard manley hopkins

Neither of you should be here. Strictly speaking, at least.

The Embassy maintains regulations about these sorts of things, you’ve heard in jagged claims that coat the walls in a sickly iridescent sheen. Not the pretty kind that makes glitter sparkle. No, it’s the perverse shine — pyrite and oil spills on tepid water and those cheap kaleidoscopes they sell at county fairs.

Everything, it seems, is whispered here. Here at the Embassy, anyway; Colombia itself is a messy, irreverent place. A dreamlike people, an altered state where God acts as the intermediary between man and demons, not angels.

Perhaps that is why the Embassy is always quiet. The shrill clang of a phone ringing makes everyone start, fearful of keeping demons at bay. Even the PR reps speak in hushed tones, the words soft and soothing like cotton balls dipped in baby oil gliding across skin — crafting press releases each word slotted for a specific purpose, hand-picked with evolutionary precision.

It harasses you, stinging pricks drawing blood from beneath the surface of your bronze skin. Words should move freely, you believe. Like the way the Mississippi runs in during the spring melt: coarse, unimpeded, roiling in caught light, caressing the riverbanks as it soaks up all the world gives it — thrusting forward after a winter fraught in immobility, reveling in flinty purpose.

There’s a difference between words of fabrication and phrases of culled authenticity — the ones that stream from bleeding hearts, bound tightly by shoves and glares and hands that can’t keep still. Hands that grasp for something tangible. Anfractuous reminders of why they must be so careful, why they must keep the truth of themselves limited to brief instances of throwing back light or heat.

There is one man, you know, who thinks like you do — and he laughs at the fact that your jobs depend upon other people being careless with their words. Bandying about locations, codenames, numerals, what to buy at the grocery store. You can almost hear him, that marmalade voice spreading over you, eyes gleaming in smoke and fervor: yeah, carelessness gives us both a job. But it hurts, too.

Tonight, though. When you both are here when you really shouldn’t, you really fucking shouldn’t, not when you’ve been dreaming about him for…for how long? How long have you been in this country that makes a mockery of verisimilitude? Long enough, apparently, for everything else to blur when you look at him, for you to have memorized the way his shirts pull tight over his back when he’s leaned over his desk.

Eyes climb up the length of his torso, the slope of it heightened by the way he’s bracing his weight on his hands. His palms are spread wide and god as much as you think you want to stop the way your mouth runs dry at the sight his large palm, you can’t.

A sigh leaks out. The man in question spares a glance your way, matching the twist of his neck to the cigarette he brings to his lips. “You alright?” he mumbles around the thing, and you grip the desk’s edge a little harder at the sound, at the sight, of him in his element. His exhale — a finely tuned purse of the lips, discreetly directed away from your work — should feel the same as your sigh, but it doesn’t. It washes over you instead, and you rock in the way his existence ebbs and flows in and out of your person. Easy. Like breathing. Like all you have to do is breathe, and he’ll be there.

There are stories about him. When you had been sent down to Columbia as a junior analyst after the death of Escobar, you had quickly dived into the mythos the man. How could you not, when he was everywhere, the scent and swagger of him drawing eyes from every corner of the barricaded building?

The others — the replacements, someone had once termed the batch of new personnel flooding the country to fight Cali — had told you the stories; where they had heard them, you weren’t sure. Huddled over tepid drinks in the bar after work, blazers shrugged off and shirtsleeves rolled up, you had let them regale you of how he fought for years to bring down Escobar, only to be in Miami when his partner did the deed. How he fucks his informants; although, one of them admitted with a sigh, he hadn’t been known to do that in a while. How he was ruthless in the pursuit of justice. A fucking legend, man, someone had crowed about the older man, tongue loose with overpriced alcohol.

And through it all, there was you, eyeing the man himself across the bar. The embrace of his hands against the whiskey glass, the way he barely shuddered at the consuming burn of the stuff when he tossed it back in a behavioral gesture. He seems sad, is what you had thought. Whatever opposite of sad existed in this opulent measure of time by which you both abided — that’s what you wanted to do for him. To make him not-sad. He is aged, perhaps, but not old, rather like someone who could be young if they could shed the pallid skin of responsibility.

But you can’t play God in this country of fallen beings. Being consumes you instead, devolving into an obsession, hanging onto the ledge of yourself — gripping humanity and slicing rocks and graphite that stains your skin even as it slides away, too smooth to be held in hands that ache, swollen, from typing up reports detailing the tumbled-gravel sins of humanity.

He likes you. You think he might, anyway. He consults you before any of the others, and once or twice he’s dragged some Columbian officer into your tiny workspace, asking you to confirm the intelligence on whatever operation he’s desperate to get approved so he can do something. He asks with words that curl up and over themselves like whitecaps, one hand resting on his hip as he nods along to your recitation.

But it’s really his eyes you watch in these moments, aching in fluttering hope whenever they rest on yours. Javier Peña’s eyes when he visits you in your workspace are pleading thermoses of life under sterile fluorescent lights. He likes to send you a half-smile and a nod when you’re finished, tossing them over his shoulder as he escorts the man back to the Ambassador’s office. You are both too good at your job not to love it in some sick & twisted way, and he knows.

Other times he simply drops by. Leaning against your cubicle, he fiddles with a cigarette and chats with you as you work, asking questions that he knows he’s the only one examining.

Talk to me about the families of la cartel de Cali, he mutters, the hoarse sound deep and aching in your gut. About their mothers, daughters, sons, cousins, in-laws. Is anyone sick? Do they want to go on vacation? What’s the drama of the week, no, don’t laugh, — he smiles, here, barely, the delicate minutiae of the expression an external revelation of his magnetism — there always is in families. They’re human just like us. And that’s when he sighs, and looks across the hall, where in his office there’s a diagram of the Cali bosses splayed over the wall. Yeah...they’re like us.

Javier makes a slowly forms a habit of it, of stopping by your cubical and wrapping you in currents of charisma and truth. He does you a solid, too, bringing you to the attention of your superiors when he mentions your diligence. And you repay him in kind, taking care to slip into his office with new intelligence before the brass gets word. You tell yourself it’s simple mentorship. Mere patronage. He’s paying it forward, helping the young analyst get ahead in their career. These meetings are nothing to him, and they ought to be equally as empty to yourself. It’s just exchanges of information. Conversation between colleagues.

Of course, that doesn’t explain why you look forward to his fingers touching yours when you lend him a pen, or, when he makes some half-whispered joke in Spanish, it makes you shiver. Or the pride that blossoms in your chest, embracing you all soft and balmy, when he considers your words. He handles them like he does his favorite cigarettes, rolling them between his fingers, palming their weight, letting the texture seep into his skin before he lights them on fire.

You drop your pen a lot; he brings a finger to his mouth in thought. You don’t see the way he smiles when you do that, grinning at the muttered curse and roll of your eyes. And he decides that he likes the way you laugh about it; poking fun at your own mistakes, the skin that matches his own gleaming in the warm sun.

He can never do that. Perhaps he should? But he doesn’t make mistakes like that, toss-away interruptions of intended action. The mistakes he makes get people killed. All the more reason to keep checking with you, he reasons, to double-insure the intelligence. Can’t have another mess. And he likes to hear your laugh. Nothing wrong with that, he says. Nothing wrong with something that makes his heart stir and entices the eyes hidden behind yellow aviators to trace the length of your neck a little longer than strictly necessary when you throw your head back in unmarked joy.

And tonight, in his office? Tonight he seems melancholic again, like the first time you saw him across the bar. He keeps shifting his weight, one hand on his hip, and then on the table, and then shrugging off both his jacket and his tie and tossing them unceremoniously onto the couch, limbs extending listlessly. It’s as close to careless as he gets.

Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion fusing into you both. You feel slow and hazy, torn between staring at him and bleary eyes glaring at the map beneath his fingers. if you just look at it longer, you think, you can will it all to fall into place. and maybe if you did he would kiss you, and maybe he would kiss you the way he has always wanted to live.

Maybe if you traced your tongue along his exposed collarbone, penning of licks of hope in the space where his words seem to get caught, where his perpetually open collar leaves him defenseless to an onslaught of physical impressions…maybe then, he’d exhale in blessed adoration, taken outside of himself for just one moment.

He’s asking you a question. You alright? He does that a lot, you realize. Checks in with you. When you answer, he laughs — those delightful eyes seeping warmth into your weary bones as they crinkle in a smile — and he reminds you to call him Javier. He — Javier — has rebuked you at least three times tonight alone, but you’ve yet to oblige his request. If you do, if you let your tongue caress his sacred name and rest in its life-sodden weight, you fear…

you do not know what you fear. you do not know how saying his name will shift the tides in your life. but you know that you will remain forever anchored to him, tethered to his lunar opacity.

“What’s this?” you ask instead, shifting to rest against the desk. You’re beside him now, hip adjacent to his as you look up at him. Latent smoke hovers overhead, and locks of his hair have come undone after the long hours of work and now rest over his forehead small waves. It looks like it aches, being so out of place, and yet so distinctly him. Caught. Destined to arch over his tanned skin, all the while lingering in a place where it should not. Not here, anyway. Not tonight, in his office, far after everyone else has gone home.

“What’s what?” Javier rejoins, distracted, still bent over the desk, still bracing his weight on those fingers.

Rustling papers catch his attention, and he twists to meet your gaze. “This.” You point to the unfamiliar word, stamped out in standard font. “My Spanish is decent, but I’ve never seen this word before.”

The wrinkles behind the shield of his fallen hair press together as he cranes his neck, adjusting his stance to read the word on the paper you thrust in his direction. It clears rapidly though — the visage sailing and unfurling itself when he absorbs the story hidden in-between letters on a page.

He repeats the word back to you, leaning into the sound the way he leans into you, inching closer in his explanation. You stare at his lips, completely captivated — his tongue catching between his teeth — the purse of his lips — the rearrangement of his jaw as it conforms to the aerodynamics of structured syllables.

“Strictly speaking,” he says, eyes roving your face, deep and dark, “it means elf, or spirit. Something ethereal. It’s used in stories a lot.” The words are smooth, smokey, whiskey-like as you let them drip down your skin, the insides of your thighs. “Entiendes?”

Your body temperature rises. You can feel it — the way your mouth’s run dry and the paper’s slippery in your grip. Did his voice drop lower when he used the familiar form of the verb, not the formal? You think it did. Oh god, he’s so close, he could just extend a hand across your body and it could rest on your hip. You had never really noticed his height either, always in heels. Tonight, though, the heels are in the corner with his jacket and tie and you realize that he’s inches above you, yet somehow still within reach.

“What’s” — you swallow thickly, desperate to remain professional despite your wide eyes, the tongue tracing your lower lip — “what’s the non-strict definition of the word?”

He gives you one of his trademark smirks. “It can also mean,” he says, “enchanting. Charming. For someone or something to be magical.”

Nodding slowly, you drop your eyes down to the paper again, desperate to avoid his gaze. It follows you, watching your eyes hide even as you adjust to be ever-closer, a bare foot extending outward and brushing against the fabric of his dress pants. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Say it,” you hear him urge, your head bolting up, incredulous. And you try, you really do, but it’s so new and unfamiliar and you’re so goddamn nervous with him looking at you, that you fuck it up. Words are but the vessels by which emotions themselves are expressed, so maybe the act of speaking should not make you feel all by itself. But it does — oh, god, it does, and you feel like you’ve shrunk in the process, dwarfed by this man with rolled up shirt sleeves wrapped around muscular forearms, who grins impishly around his cigarette.

“Not quite.” He stubs out the thing, and to your surprise, brings hand to your jaw, cupping your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger. “Say it again.”

“No, I can’t; I..“ you protest, and for what? because you don’t want him near you? no, that’s not it, but you’re being branded by his touch all the same.

“Say it again,” he commands again, more gently this time, his words accompanied by an encouraging nod.

You comply readily, sounding out the syllables. His strong fingers manipulate your movements, guiding you in pronouncing the difficult phrase. It’s forceful and noble, a tender yet compelling influence that teaches you how to wrap yourself in the meaning of the word as much the word itself. You’re tingling; is it from the thrill of achieving or from his sturdy hand against your bare skin?

He doesn’t back away when you’re finished speaking, but holds your stare. Dimly, you register the steady crescendo in your breathing. He’s not immune to your proximity either: his Adam’s apple bobs as he pushes down the deficit of hope flooding oppressive maxim of his presence. Times stretches as you remain caught in his hold, coursing through you, carrying you downstream in brash, coarse recklessness. Are the emotions you swim in those eyes yours, or his, or some measure of both?

The pads of his fingers migrate, drifting to rest along your cheek and tumble into his touch like a moth to flame, or fish to water, or whatever trite phrase people use to make sense of such profound belonging.

Javier is mesmerized with the way his fingertips trace your cheekbones, the shell of your ear, along your jaw, returning to outline your lips.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice scrapes along your bliss, and you force your eyes open to see that he’s moved even closer, closer-than-close, so tight against you that you’re nearly leaning back over the desk.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are dark and still now, but for the way they’re trained on yours as you whisper fate into existence.

“No — fuck — I shouldn’t, I —“ his jaw shifts again, this time in agitation, but it is you who does the deed, cutting him off, reaching out to tug on his collar. The action pulls him forward, pressing himself against you, caging you between the desk and the broadness of his firm chest.  And you do know it’s firm now, at last slipping your hands underneath that truant fabric and gliding along his smooth skin. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips as he meets your lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

He — Javier, now — kisses you a single-minded intent, letting his lips slide over yours lazily, over and over, memorizing the imprint of you against his mouth. One hand drifts upward again, cupping your cheek as he tilts your head slightly, letting his tongue delve into your mouth and trace your teeth. It makes you gasp, and you retaliate with a gentle nip to his lower lip, silently begging for more. Javier moans into your mouth, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Javier lifts you, placing you firmly on the desk, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You know what he wants before he even has to ask and you give it him readily, wrapping your legs around his waist. Javier’s weight conforms to your own, molding against your body as you press into him, back arching in your submersion to his touch.

He is so eager; his kisses drench you in a deluge of incubated affection interspersed with need. Grasping at his shoulder, you pull him even closer, your other hand anxiously fiddling with his buttons as you sigh, reveling in the storm of his attention. Slowly, painstakingly, driven by a clamoring need for oxygen, he drags himself away from you, parting slowly, ever-loth to break the kiss.

You can’t help the shy smile that dances around your lips when you look up at him, standing above you. His chest is heaving, out of breath, hair somehow even more mussed than it was before. You suppose you can touch it now, so you do, two fingers brushing aside the fringe on his forehead.

Time, and space, and whatever else this stuff is made of have prevented from this alternate reality. until now. it has broken through the dam and caught you up in its awakening, broad and unrepentant.

Javier captures your hand as it lowers, pressing a kiss to the side of your palm. He’s so tender it makes you ache, and you wonder if this is why he stopped fucking his CIs. He requires something more intangible than what they could give him. “Javier,” you whisper.

He hums a question, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he watches you consider him, emotion lapping at the shores of unkempt eyes.

“You asked me to use your name. Earlier, I mean.” Should you feel embarrassed? Kissing a man several years your senior? Maybe you should. But you don’t. There’s a cordial warmth spreading through you, bolstered by his gentle touch, the outward connection of him and you that’s been built through months of inanimate remembrances.

“I know.” Javier nods and leans in again, his breath rippling across your skin. “Can you say it one more time, princesa? They say you need to do something three times” — a kiss to your cheek — “to make sure you really —“ a kiss to your forehead — “understand” — a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The words fall out of your mouth, splashes of unrestrained affection dappling each letter. “Duende, Javier,” you murmur against his lips. “Duende.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @yespolkadotkitty @rentskenobi @goldenkenobi ​ @goldafterglow @teaofpeach ​ @justrunamok ​ @huliabitch @cri-me-a-river @littlevodika @catsnkooks @themarvelousbear @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @dracos-jedi-marvel @a-seeker-of-imagination​ // taglist link in bio!

[shadowsinger11]

John Wayne

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Christmas lights and stunning dresses are enough to spark a desire for a winter romance. But could you have possibly gotten the wrong idea?

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: I might've listened too much to Cigarettes After Sex while writing and this is totally not a song inspired fic, born purely as a result of my procrastination with other projects

Tag list: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @harrysweasleys @loony-loopy-lupinn @whiz-bangs78 @slytherinsunrise @starlightweasley @ickle-ronniekins @gcdric @vivianweasley @aprilsrant @idont-knowrn @thisismynerdyself @wonderful-writer @feetoffthetablee @minty-malfoy @vogueweasley @elf-punk @oh-for-merlins-sake @heart-of-tempered-steel @spilled-prose @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads @pastanest | message me to be added/removed! (if you're in bold, I couldn't tag you)

You were staring at the crowded dance floor.

Beautiful ladies were being spun around by their partners, gorgeous gowns twirling and swooshing with their every elegant move. Everything was perfect about them; from their smile which lit up the Great hall more than the sparkling white Christmas trees, to the way their wrist gracefully twisted around their lover's neck, eyes piercing into theirs. The music was playing, slow and melancholic, exactly as it had been playing for the last few hours, luring lovers and encouraging them to bare their souls in front of each other.

And so they danced, connected by fearful desire, united by hope and bonded by love.

It was a kind of magic no one could truly understand, mysterious and private as though you weren't meant to witness it that night. So when among the sea of couples lips met in a silent oath, your heart began to ache, pleading you to leave.

It should have been you. It should have been you the receiver of those loving glances, of those kisses which made your head dizzy and caused your knees to buckle, but it would've been no problem as you would've had the arms of your lover to keep you secure. Then, as you'd dare to look up through your lashes, gorgeous eyes would be already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. And you'd simply fall, letting the warm, velvety darkness envelope you.

You flinched from the slight chill, rethinking your choice of a sleeveless dress. The enthusiasm with which you had picked it months ago now seemed utterly ridiculous and foolish as you were sitting a good distance away from where you believed you'd have been dancing your heart out. But, as you took one last look at your surroundings, only to spot your lovestruck friends indulging in the presence of their partners, the comfort of your pajamas seemed far more tempting than the unreasonably expensive piece of fabric which didn't even matter to you anymore.

It was pitifully funny how things could change in the blink of an eye, in a single breath; how fast you had gone from blooming with excitement to wondering how you were foolish enough to contribute to your own heartbreak.

"How come I'm just finding out about this?" Fred exclaimed, chasing after you down the stairs of the Astronomy tower. "I bet I wouldn't have known if it wasn't for those Ravenclaws chatting back in class."

"You were gonna know eventually, what's the deal?"

"My point is, why didn't you tell me and I had to hear from someone else?"

A group Hufflepuffs gave you questioning looks as you practically ran past them, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process, "You're making a fuss about nothing, stop acting entitled to every piece of information in my life!"

"McLaggen? That git?" Fred yelled in frustration and disbelief; he didn't at all acknowledge the small crowd which had gathered to observe the scene, nor did he care in the first place. He stopped in his tracks, gripping the wooden railing tight, knuckles turning white and jaw tense. "You cannot be serious."

Shocked faces now turned to you, and you desperately wished you could use reducio on yourself. Instead, opposite to what your consciousness was screaming at you, you dug your feet into the floor and shot Fred a stern look over your shoulder, "We're not discussing this right now. Besides, what's in it for you anyway? You're going with Angelina."

Had you kept walking, you would have missed the way Fred's chest was heaving with shallow, rapid breaths, and his face was more maroon than you had ever seen. And you? You couldn't quite breathe yourself.

A week ago your untamed happiness brightened every room and hallway; classes seemed to fly by, exams were over and the Yule ball was right around the corner. Your heart was ringing with joy as you were so looking forward to forgetting your troubles for just one night. 

In the midst of shining Christmas decorations and beautiful dresses a dreamy, yet pretty bold idea had begun to form in your head, an idea which Ginny and Hermione encouraged with their support and affirmations. Deep down you had started to believe Fred Weasley took an interest in you, harboured feelings for you even, and your ever-present goofy banter which contained far more flirting than what would be acceptable between two best friends, only fed your imagination and raised your hopes up.

You were aware you were the only one on the receiving end of Fred's teasing jokes, cheesy pickup lines and lingering stares which had you staying up an extra hour in your bed at night. Even his siblings shared the same opinion - there was no way on Godric's sword that a person who clearly wanted to be around you as often as possible and got his hands on you every chance he could, wouldn't be at least a little bit interested in you.

That's why you nearly broke down when exactly a week ago in the hallway Ron casually mentioned his older brother had just asked out Angelina.

The ground was pulled beneath your feet, vanishing along with your oblivious hopes. The news stung sharply, leaving a sour taste in your mouth; never had you believed you’d spend the few days before the ball stitching up your heart, and you were willing to do just about anything to forget about your humiliation. So when McLaggen invited you with an obnoxiously flirty note in Charms class, you didn’t hesitate much.

You could feel a wave of tears burning your eyes as you looked up to where Fred was standing. His face and ears were still as red as they could get, and his chest was vibrating with every shaky breath he took. Fury had disappeared from his eyes long ago, replaced with concern, regret and hurt which you couldn't quite place.

He climbed down the few remaining stairs.

"He's obnoxious! And beyond what's good for you!" Fred stated, though his voice now lacked power and slightly trembled, loud enough just for you to hear. "You're setting yourself up for a pretty bad night."

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and finally turned around to fully face him, looking him up and down.

"Seems like I have a terrible taste in men then."

A second glass of firewhiskey did nothing to burn down the growing turmoil in your stomach. You tapped the edge of the empty glass with your fingers and smiled at your friends who were visibly exhausted from dancing to upbeat songs for quite awhile now, but enjoying their time far too much to take a break. You admired their spirit - just because you weren't feeling your best, it didn't mean your friends didn't have the right to have fun.

However, the inevitable sense of regret lingered in your bones, and you found it hard to not focus on how the ball had gone wrong for you, in more ways than you had originally thought.

Even without Fred as your date, there was still a chance you'd have a good time. McLaggen could undoubtedly make it awkward to be around, and with the fact that your heart had recently been sliced open, you weren't sure how much of his ridiculous antics you could take. But at least he was trying; if you put aside his overbearing ego, you could see genuine effort into creating something romantic for both of you. It was going to be okay. Not necessarily what you desired, but somehow okay.

And that last bit of hope vanished the second you caught your former date snogging your crush's date in an empty classroom merely an hour ago.

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the universe's bitter joke, but the tears on your face as you ran down the hallway in your beautiful dress were eloquent.

A bitter, bitter joke.

You couldn't take it anymore. The charming smiles, sultry glances and stolen kisses you had been observing for the past hour were too much. And when another slow song made an appearance, you rose to your feet and headed towards the tall doors of the exit. Perhaps sleep would be a decent ending to your horrendous night.

You had barely made it out of the Great hall when loud footsteps echoed on your right.

"Bloody hell, I've been looking for you!" Fred said through heavy breaths, having run all the way to you as it seemed. His ginger hair had escaped its slicked look long ago, now too messy to fix despite his numerous attempts to smooth it back. His suit was no better, slightly wrinkled and shirt open to the third button.

"Why have you?" you asked and folded your arms, feeling a bit chilly in the hallway.

"McLaggen. About him," Fred sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry for having to say it, but I just saw him-"

"I know."

Fred frowned in confusion.

"You do?"

It was your turn to let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down at your feet, "Yes. A while ago."

Fred's features softened.

"I'm sorry."

You barely found it in you to respond with a weak smile, "It's alright. I guess I was right. I do have a terrible taste in men." Then you gave Fred a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry for Angelina too, it's horrible she did this to you."

Your friend allowed the ghost of a smirk to appear on his lips and he shoved hands into his pockets, "I'm not really affected by it in all honesty," he shrugged. "I'm rather angry about the fact that the prat thought he could pull off something like this and get away with it."

Fred's heart ached at the sight of your slumped figure and glossy eyes; he hated himself for having contributed to the failure of the event you were expecting with so much hope. He tilted his head to the side, attempting to meet your gaze.

"I'd gladly prank the crap outta the git until he doesn't even dare to show up to classes… But for now is there a way for me to make your night any less terrible, love?"

You couldn't help but giggle at the thought of McLaggen skipping classes out of sheer fear of Fred. But then your thoughts wandered to the way Angelina was practically straddling his lap, and you wondered if Fred had been doing the same all this time unbeknownst to you; if right after a flirty joke sent your way he'd go to an empty classroom and kiss Angelina with the passion you had just witnessed.

The image of Angelina's lips on Fred's caused you to become nauseous and you attempted to swallow down that lump again.

"No," you replied. "But please, tell me one thing. What was that entire tantrum for?"

Fred didn't really seem taken aback by your question, realizing you'd eventually bring it up. He furrowed a brow, carefully thinking of an answer, and wettened his lips.

“Perhaps it would be inappropriate of me to say it- selfish even, but the mere thought of you being in the embrace of someone, especially with that someone being a foul git, caused me to get unreasonably angry.” Guilt was seeping into his every word and he bitterly chuckled to himself. “Ironic, isn’t it? Attempting to spare you heartbreak by being the reason for it.”

He gently took your hand and looked into your eyes, remorse swimming in his own, "I had no right to treat you the way I did. I'm terribly sorry for being controlling and you absolutely do not have to forgive me. Just know that I truly regret my actions; I never intended to hurt you."

His words were a feather-light caress to your wounded heart and you shuddered. You couldn't stay mad at him. Reciprocated feelings or not, he was still your best friend and you wouldn't let that go.

"Apology accepted," you gave his hand a light squeeze and Fred beamed, the entire hallway lighting up with him. Dread released your chest of its merciless grasp and you could finally breathe. However, one question never ceased to haunt you. "But I just need to know…” you began, absentmindedly playing with his fingers, “...why were you so upset to begin with?"

Fred's shoulders immediately stiffened and he averted his gaze from you in an attempt to come up with a reasonable reply. His jaw was clenched, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I didn't want you to go with him." He stated simply. "Not when you could've easily gone with me instead."

You froze.

"What do you mean?” you asked timidly, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “What about Angelina?"

Fred only shook his head, fighting back a grin.

"Darling, Angelina was never the catch."

The air was knocked out of your lungs.

You could only stare at Fred wide-eyed, and though his expression was unreadable, maroon had begun to crawl its way up to his ears and cheeks again.

"I'm sorry for putting you through all this," Fred spoke softly as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, a kiss that awakened the butterflies within you. "I was really too much of a wuss to confess to you and settled for this instead."

"I guess that makes us two," you smiled sincerely, perhaps for the first time that night. Fred returned your smile with a grin, and asked.

"How can I make up to you for this oh-so-awful mess?"

"Dance with me," you said without skipping a beat. "That's what you owe me at least. Let's finally do what we both wanted."

Fred's expression became serious as he intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you into the direction of the Great hall, from which music could still faintly be heard.

"With the greatest of pleasure, my love."

Most people had already gone to bed, leaving just a few couples and you to drench in enchanted serenity. Fred's arms around you felt like home as you both swayed to the soft rhythm of the song, one of the many to follow, but his racing heartbeat under your palm caused your own pulse to speed up as well. 

You looked up at your lover through your lashes, gorgeous eyes already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. There was an odd, enigmatic allure that Fred possessed, and even after years of knowing this man, it only caused you to fall further into the velvety hell you didn't wish to escape from. 

And when his lips collided with yours, they tasted sweeter than the forbidden fruit.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[daisybeewrites]

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

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

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

[baejl]

forgive

exo 10th member au

somi and taemin meet before his enlistment 

masterlist 🌻 requests are open feedback is always important to me!

"Do I really have to go?" Somi asked Jade on the phone. 

"Unnie, come on. Is not like you're on a date. You'll just talk things out before he's away." Jade said and even though Somi couldn't see it, she knew the girl was rolling her eyes. "How long has it been since the last time you talked to each other?" 

"I don't know. Three, four years maybe." Somi answered. 

"See? You even graduated from college in the meantime, Somi. " Jade pointed out. "Just go there and do your thing." 

Puffing, Somi leaned her head on the car seat. She knew the day she and Taemin had to do this would come, she just didn't expect it to be right when her life was starting to get back on tracks and she was having the most important comeback of her life. 

Deciding to not take it any further, she accepted her fate and resolved to finish what she came there to do.  

"Okay, I'll get going." she told her friend. "Bye, Jade." 

"Bye bye, unnie. Call me when you're done." 

Humming in response, Somi hang up the call pressing a button on the wheelchair. She checked how she was looking in the mirror one last time before getting out of the car with her mask and her bag in hands. 

Getting into SM cafe's, it didn't take too long for the waitress to recognize her. Getting closer to the cashier, Somi tried to hide how nervous she was. 

"Good afternoon, Mrs Choi." the guy smiled at her. "Can I help you with anything?" 

"Hm, yes. Did Taemin book any table in the pink room?" she asked the boy who checked something on his clipboard. 

He looked at Somi and nodded. "Yes, he's waiting for you." 

"Okay, thank you very much." she said, slightly bowing her head at him and following her way to the pink room. 

In each step, it felt like her heart was about to jump out of her chest. All she wanted was to run away from that place. As if he felt her presence, Taemin looked up at the same time she got in the room. 

When their gaze met, Somi felt her heart stop beating for a few seconds. 

He wasn't too changed from the last time they saw each other, that night when Jongin and he suddenly showed up and interrupted her dinner with Jiyong, but something was different. Maybe it was just the melancholic mood. 

"You really came..." Taemin mumbled, probably more to a self convince than to her. 

"Not my type to let someone waiting." Somi answered him with a thin smile and passed the strap of his bag on the chair, sitting right in front of him.

"So..." he cleared his throat, sitting straight and making a signal to the waitress. "Do you want to drink something?" 

Taking a quick look at the menu to keep her eyes away from his, she decided to order her classic orange juice with a lot of ice and sugar. She needed sugar. While Taemin ordered water. 

Closing the menu, she started tapping her nails on the table, waiting for him to make the first move. 

"First of all, I wanted to thank you for coming. It means a lot to me." he said, beaming at her. 

"I just want to close this chapter of my life, Taemin." she answered, sighing. 

"Me too, that's why I called you." he nodded. Somi took a deep breath and crossed her arms. 

"I'm all ears." she told him. 

"I'm enlisting at the end of the month and I don't think I'll be able to do anything without fixing things with you." 

"You can start by telling me why you did what you did. Why did you just walk away from me?" Somi coldly asked him. 

Taemin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, cursing. 

One night, Taemin got in the dorm, acting super weird and by the morning, he broke up with her. When she asked why he just said that the company wouldn't allow them to date anymore and that what he felt for her was just an 'illusion'. She never understood what happened. 

"I was scared." he finally said, with a guilty face. "I was scared because my career was at its peak and I was scared that if I told the company about us, they'd try to punish us." 

Somi frowned and cocked her head to the side. That wasn't working with her. 

"Did they punish Taeyeon and Baekhyun? Or Kai and Krystal?" she asked back. "Actually, did you at least asked the company, like you told me you did?" 

Taemin looked at her and, by his face, she knew the answer. Somi puffed and shook her head, unable to believe that. 

"You're telling me you broke up with me because you were scared?!" she sharply asked him once again. 

They were interrupted by the waitress bringing their drinks. The woman placed the juice in front of Somi, the cup of water in front of Taemin and left. Somi quickly drank a bit of that juice, trying to calm herself. 

"You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was stupid." he said, once they were alone again and groaned. "Gosh, I hate myself when I see you with Jiyong. Every time I see his car parking in front of the company to pick you up, I feel like dying." 

He didn't have to worry about that anymore, but Somi didn't want Taemin to know about their breakup and especially why they broke up. 

"I loved you." Taemin said, looking into Somi's eyes. 

"And yet you did what you did." she said back. 

"I swear to you if I knew all of this would happen, I'd never do what I did." he told her, almost crying. 

The anger Somi once felt for him was now replaced by disappointment. She was numb by the truth hitting her at once and, to be honest, she wasn't completely sure if coming to this meeting was the best idea. 

"Was 2Kids about us?" she asked the last thing she wanted to know. 

"It was." Taemin simply said. She nodded, trying to think of what to say next. 

"I don't think things will ever be normal between us. But, if it's any consolation, I'm at a phase of my life that I will rather be in peace than be right." Somi said without hesitating. "I don't love anymore, but I do have an affection for you and want you to be happy. I forgive you, but it'll still take some time to absorb everything." 

Taemin smiled at her from ear to ear and she even thought she saw a tear rolling down his face. Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to feel something, that meant nothing to her. 

"Thank you... Really." Taemin said, giggling. "At least now we don't have to pretend we don't know each other." 

Forcing a chuckle, Somi looked at her watch and realised it was almost time for her practice and used that as an excuse to leave that place. 

"I have to go." she said already getting up and putting her bag on her shoulder again, not without leaving the money for the juice under the napkin holder. Looking at Taemin, she grinned at him. "Good luck on your enlistment, oppa." 

Beaming at her, he bowed his head at her. 

"Thank you..." 

And with that, Somi left the room remembering what her mom always used to tell her: every hello, ends with a goodbye. 

[sleepynobie]

(A/N: A short floof with the edgy boi >:3. Enjoy!)

"I love you"

These three words aren't hard to pronounce and yet Xiao just can't say them. It baffles him how three words can make him feel uncomfortable because when he thought of saying it to you, he starts to feel embarrassed that it holds him back.

But apparently not you.

You say it every day like you're breathing. Not that it bothers him since it makes him feel warm and he's not the one who says it. Nonetheless, how can you say it so casually to him without a hint of embarrassment? He thought he knows enough about humans by being with you but it seems like there's more to learn.

"Eating almond tofu I see"

Xiao shifts his attention from the almond tofu to you who waves at him before sitting next to him.

"Do you want some?"

"I'm good, thanks" You smile "I just need to rest a bit before going down again to serve the food"

He looks slightly concerned at you since it seems that today's quite busy that he often sees you go up and down to get the food "How many guests are left?"

"Umm around 3 more. But then, you know new customers are going to come anyway" You say before smirking at him while resting your cheek on your palm as you place your elbow on the table "Why? Did you miss me?"

A slight blush quickly appears on Xiao's face before he quickly denies it "I'm not. I'm just wondering"

"Sure sure" You snicker which makes him glare at you "Don't worry, I'm used to doing this so-"

Suddenly, you heard Chef Smiley calls for you to bring the food to the guests which makes you quickly get up "Oh, I gotta go. I'll see you when I see you"

"Alright" He merely replies and you're about to leave him until suddenly you turn around as you form a heart with your arms again and smile.

"Xiao, I love you!"

It's those three words again (and what's with the heart shape?) that makes him blush more than before. Seriously, if he's a human, his heart might have a problem because it skips a beat every time you say those three words. Yet at the same time, he loves it every time he hears it from you because it reassures and comforts him.

~~~

~~~

Finally, the last guests leave after finishing their dinner which means your shift is over. You quickly clear up the table as you bring the plates and go to the elevator to wash them. After that, you officially finish your work for the day and bid farewell to Chef Smiley and Verr Goldet before you leave to meet Xiao on the highest balcony.

"Guess who's back!" You shout which makes Xiao turn around before you run towards him to give a hug.

"Do you really need to say it loudly?" Xiao retorts while welcoming you into his arms.

You snuggle onto him, taking in his warmth and feeling comforted at his hug. You then pull away and feel energised as you smile at him.

"Well, I can't help it! Even though I'm tired but once I see you, it's all gone as if it never happens. As expected of my boyfriend who gives the best hug"

This makes him blush slightly at your compliment/flirt but also amazed at how there's no hint of embarrassment when you said it.

"You're really an odd one, (Name)"

"Uhh.. Thank you...?" You smile but also look unsure with the sudden comment since odd isn't exactly a compliment or insult.

"I mean how can you be so upfront with your feelings? Especially the one that you always say every day"

"You mean 'I love you'?" You ask which he nods shyly in response.

"Well, this might sound ridiculous to you but I was inspired by an old couple that used to stay here "You reply before giggling sheepishly.

"A customer?"

You nod and begin to recall the memories when you met with the old couple "I remember that every time they spend time together just enjoying the view from the balcony, one of them would casually say it to another. It caught me off guard at first but then it eventually turned into awe, envy for the romantic and cute relationship, and curiosity on what makes them like to say it so often. I mean, I never meet a couple who say I love you to each other everyday, or even say I love you"

"It is rather embarrassing" Xiao comments "Actions are easier to do than saying that"

"And you used to be so awkward on trying to kiss me" You grin mischievously which makes him blush furiously in embarrassment before retorting.

"Sh-Shut up! Did you really need to bring up about that?"

"I'm just saying, Xiao" You giggle before calming down to continue "Anyway, I decided to ask them one day what makes them want to say I love you so often. Then, this is what they said: it's because we will never know when we die"

Xiao looks slightly taken aback at the unexpected answer while you continue "Well, they also said that they like saying it to each other too but the reason is mainly because they're getting old so they want to make sure on the day they have to leave, at least they've said to the other about how they love them. Then hopefully, the three words that they always hear can be a comfort whenever they feel alone or sad. So that's why I was inspired to do the same because you know... I can't live as long as you"

You smile sheepishly and start to look melancholic knowing that one day, you won't be able to be by his side anymore which always make you feel guilty about it. But instead of stressing about it, isn't that why you try to stay healthy and safe as long as you can so you can spend a lot of time with him?

You slap both of cheeks to snap out of the sadness and try to lighten up the mood with a tease "Besides, it's cute to see how your face is always redden whenever I say it so it motivates me even more to keep saying it-"

Suddenly, Xiao pulls you into a tight hug as if he doesn't want you to be gone and stays here with him. You look slightly surprised for a moment but then you understand why he suddenly does it before you apologise to him and hugs him back "I'm sorry, I don't mean to remind you about it. But hey, I'm here right now alright? I'll be here tomorrow, the next days, weeks, and years until the time comes. So, let's not think about it much and just enjoy the time we spend together while we can-"

"I love you"

You halt for a moment, looking surprised and disbelief at what you just heard because you never heard him saying it to you even once. You can feel your face suddenly heats up but at the same time, you want to hear it again.

"Did you say something, Xiao?"

"I-I said I... I love you" You can sense that Xiao is embarrassed of saying it which makes you feel guilty but this is a rare moment so you want to hear it from him again.

"What was that? I didn't catch what you were saying" You say and look forward to hear it from him again but then he pulls away to look at you with a slight irked expression.

"You're messing with him, aren't you?"

"I just want to hear it again since this is the first time you said it to me" You grin sheepishly "But now that I see your face, why don't you say it while looking at me?"

Immediately, Xiao blushes furiously because he can't imagine saying it while having an eye contact with you. That's just too embarrassing which is why he did it while hugging you in the first place so he doesn't have to see you.

But he remembers the reason why you always say 'I love you' and how much it means to you. Plus, you look at him so expectantly which makes it hard for him to resist.

"Ugh fine..." He takes a deep breath and looks at you which he starts to feel the embarrassment. But he tries to keep it together before finally saying it after a while.

"I love you, (Name)"

You smile happily upon hearing it before saying it back to him.

"I love you too, Xiao"

~~Bonus~~

"Now that I hear you saying 'I love you', how about trying this for me?" You ask excitedly and form a heart with your arms.

"No way" Xiao refuses and looks at you with a disapproval look. Saying 'I love you' is already tough and there's no way he's going to do that.

"But.. it's also another way of saying 'I love you'" You look sad before showing puppy eyes to him.

"Don't give me that look" He sighs before suddenly leaning towards you to kiss your forehead and changing the subject "By the way, it's starting to get cold so we should go to your room"

"And get ourselves heated up hmm?" You smirk in attempt to tease him which makes him blush.

"Well.. I mean we can cuddle I guess.."

"Ahh.." You sweatdrop "Yeah that works too"

"Too?" Xiao looks confused "Did you have something else in mind-"

"Nothing, let's head inside" You interject and grab his wrist before the two of you going to your room, to cuddle of course.

[padfootagain]

Queen Of Narnia

Here I come with my third fic for this event! Today, we're going to Narnia ;)

This is sweet, but maybe a a little emotional too? You’ll tell me what you think of it :)

I hope you all like this :)

Gif not mine

Word Count : 3136

"I used to love it, you know? The rush of wind through my hair, the salt on my skin, the boat creaking under my feet, the sun warming my cheeks, the waves breaking before us…"

"What changed?"

Caspian turned his attention to the girl next to him. Although, his daughter was hardly a child anymore. She was a young woman more than a girl now.

How time flew by… he remembered still the first time he had hold her. A fragile thing in his trembling arms. Crying, her skin reddish, but still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He remembered how light she weighed in his arms. It was almost like holding nothing. And so, so fragile…

She was much stronger now. A young woman, her dark hair matching his and her wonderful eyes exactly like yours. 18 already. His baby girl was a woman now…

Her gaze rested upon the untameable sea as they sat side by side on the sandy beach, a boat sailing in the distance, the warm sun making its white sails shine against the blue of the sea and sky.

He could recognize both himself and you in the details of her features, in the way she held herself, in the way her eyes shone against the light of the sun. It felt like the day before that he had hold this tiny baby in his arms… now, his hair and beard were turning grey. When had all these years gone by?

A dreamy, almost melancholic smile formed on his features.

"I met your mother."

But Rayana laughed his answer away.

"How romantic!"

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

"It’s just the truth."

She finally looked at him with a perplexed frown.

"You changed for mother? Did she ask you to do so?"

"No… of course she didn’t ask me. But she has changed me tremendously over the years. Only for the better, of course. She’s made me a much better man than I was when we met."

The wind blew through his greyish hair, the locks a complicated mix of dark and white curls, falling a little before his eyes. It was his turn to rest his gaze upon the wild sea.

As she stared at her father, from his locks dancing around his head to his features wrinkled by time and battered by worry, sun, waves and responsibilities, she couldn’t refrain a smile. She had never met a man holding a heart as good as her father’s. And she was fairly certain it was because there was no such thing.

"What happened? Why did you abandon the sea for her?"

He heaved a sigh.

"Your mother was pregnant. 5 months. Four months left until you came to the world. I had to travel to the Lone Islands, and I have to admit that I was rather happy to sail once more. I hadn’t left the shore since your mother told me she was expecting. She… she didn’t want me to sail, and I didn’t understand why. She kept on saying that it worried her, and I only laughed her remarks away every time. I decided to spend some time at sea before your birth, and we set sails for the Lone Islands. We were caught in a storm after our fourth day at sea."

He paused, just to take in a breath, maybe because his lungs just needed the air, maybe because he remembered how drowning felt and the memories brought back the water covering his mouth and nose at that moment.

His eyes still rested on the waves, but he saw them much higher than they were now, and instead of the blue sky, he saw clouds so full of rain they turned the day into night, and the ship with its white sails was gone, replaced by only more waves and a pitch black horizon.

"I almost died. I… I remember all the while I thought… it was so foolish of me to leave when I hadn’t even met my own child…"

He sighed and finally closed his eyes, letting the vision of the roaring sea subside.

"We were declared lost at sea. The boat was destroyed, but we had taken the longboats, which no one on land could know, eight men did not survive though. For a handful of days, to Narnia, we were all dead. They were ready to officially announce my death, puns were started to be moved for a game of power chess. And your mother… she almost died too. The… everything, really. She thought I was dead for three days. If you ask her about it she will say these were the longest days of her life. But you know your mother, too brave and stubborn for her own good. She went at sea herself, she guided the search, she was restless. She said she couldn’t admit I was dead until she saw me with her own eyes. She searched for me until the emotional shockwave struck, and she fell sick, and we almost lost you too. You were not born yet, if she had died, you would have too. This storm almost killed all three of us. Or well… I almost killed the three of us…"

He shook his head, turning to Rayana again.

"I gave up on the sea after that. Haven’t sailed in years. And I am not planning on starting again any time soon. I can’t scare your mother again that way. I can’t do this to her. To both of you."

He gave his daughter a tender smile, brushing a lock of her dark hair behind her ear.

"Besides, I would hardly trade a day spent by your and your mother’s side against a day at sea."

A sad smile formed on the young woman’s face.

"You know… when I listen to you talking about her, and when I see how bright mother’s eyes shine whenever she looks at you… I can’t help but envy you. You really do love each other so much."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned in the embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You’ll find the right person for you."

"How can you be sure?"

"I found your mother, didn’t I?"

He pointed at the horizon.

"All this, as far as the eyes can see… it will be your responsibility, one day. Defend it, care for it, guide it… Narnia will need you once we’re gone. And I do hope that we were good enough parents to teach you all the humility and strength you need to do so. But whatever may happen, you must always remember, Rayana: love is what binds people together. Not hate, not anger… oh, these make alliances and break allies but they are fickle things. No, the real bond that keeps people united is love. Love and hope. They shall always win, in the end. For sure, hatred might tarnish it, destroy what we have worked so hard and for so long to build. Make us doubt, and break us… but sooner or later, it will wane. People will see what they have in common again, instead of their differences. They might even realize that two different things do not have to mean that one is better than the other. They are simply different. And different is enough to define them. Then, they will learn from each other again, from their mistakes, and from this hatred they will sense a greater need to love."

They exchanged another smile, father and daughter against the blue sky and turquoise sea.

"Besides, there is only one person we love more than each other in this world, your mother and I. And that’s you."

They exchanged a warm smile.

"I love you too, father. I hope… I hope I’ll make you proud."

"I already am."

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

 He could see the way she looked at him, and the way he looked at her. It was far from subtle.

She was the heir to the throne and he was a mere soldier. Obviously, she had to choose a man that would rise the most vibrant protests.

You slipped your fingers in his palm, and he held your hand without even thinking about it, out of habit, a mere reflex by now. He didn't look at you, he didn't need to. He could recognize your presence, the feeling of you being near him, anywhere, even in a crowd of a thousand souls.

"Do you think they're serious about this?" he asked you in a whisper, making sure no one but you could hear his words.

"I do… yes. I think they love each other."

"Oh, by Aslan's name…"

He shook his head, his grey hair falling before his dark brown eyes. You chuckled.

"It was bound to happen, sooner or later."

"She's barely 20…"

"She's an adult, now. Even if, for us, she will always be our baby."

"I'm not ready to let her go…"

"Me neither."

You and Caspian exchanged a glance, meaningful and tender and a little sad. Your daughter finally reached you and your husband, abandoning her longing stares towards the guard to join you in the garden.

Caspian wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, and guided both of you further on the quiet grass.

"Is everything alright, father? You're so quiet…" Rayana asked after a couple of minutes of intense silence.

"Sit down."

Caspian's voice was a little colder than usual, and your daughter immediately froze.

"Father…"

"Sit down."

You all settled under a large oak, in the grass, in the Castle's gardens, the shade of the leaves offering you protection against the warm sun of summer. The fragrance of blooming roses and cherry trees enveloped the three of you in a sweet cocoon. But Caspian's expression was preoccupied, and now so was your daughter's.

"We ought to discuss an important matter," your husband let out in a voice he didn't usually use on either you nor your daughter Usually, he wore it only as a King, not as Caspian.

She looked down at her hands, a sheepish expression on her face.

"How did you learn about it?" she merely asked, knowing perfectly what the matter at hand was.

"You are both quite obvious," you smiled.

She struggled to swallow.

"I guess you are about to order me to stop seeing him," she let out in a breath.

"Why would I do that?" Caspian asked back in a softer tone.

She looked up at both of you, taking a deep breath and holding back the tears that shone in her eyes.

"Because he is… a soldier. He owns no title. But… nevertheless… I've found that he has a heart much kinder and more… worthy than many princes that have been seeking for my hand and… And we love each other. And on this point, father, I am ready to argue with you, despite your wisdom."

Caspian raised a surprised eyebrow, and you exchanged a glance, that made you smile.

"Well… are you certain of his intentions for you?" he asked her.

"I am."

He nodded.

"Don't send him away," Rayana asked, almost begged.

"Do you love him?" you asked, a few tears blurring your vision, but you didn't let them escape.

"More than anything," she answered, and it was obvious that she spoke only the truth.

"What about him?"

"He loves me too, he… He wants to marry me. But… I… I was afraid of what you would say."

Caspian remained silent for a moment, and nor you nor Rayana dared to break the veil he had wrapped around his frame. He was intensely thinking.

Slowly, after a long while, he nodded, and rose to his feet.

"Let's talk with him then."

Rayana stared at him with panicked eyes, jumping to her feet to follow his lead.

"His name is…"

"Lucas. I know."

You chuckled as your daughter stared at her father with wide eyes.

"You didn't think that we would let a man court you without making sure that he was harmless…"

"You knew… but for… For how long have you known?"

"Since the beginning," Caspian answered matter-of-factly.

"Did you spy on me?"

"No, just on him."

"Father!"

But he turned to her, and his dark eyes held a hard gaze now.

"You are my daughter. I will always do whatever I judge necessary to assure your safety. He could have been a murderer, someone sent here to kill you."

"But he isn't!"

"I know. Why do you think he still has a head resting upon his shoulders despite courting my daughter?"

She heaved an exasperated sigh as you resumed your walk towards the main building of the Castle. Inside, Lucas was still on sentry, right where Rayana had left him.

You saw the look on his face slowly decomposing as the King and Queen of Narnia advanced towards him. You saw the fear in his eyes. Maybe he expected the worse. Being sent away. Being thrown in a dark dungeon to be forgotten there. Clearly, he did not know your husband well yet…

"Lucas, is it?" Caspian asked the man, wearing his kingly tone once more, the distant, polite, neutral and yet authoritarian voice he hated but needed.

"Y… Yes, sire."

"Come walk with me."

Lucas and Rayana exchanged a glance, and if the soldier held doubts still concerning the meaning of the king's behaviour before, he had none left.

"My Liege…"

"Come. The garden is quieter to talk."

"I must tell you…"

"Now, I am the one to ask questions, and your role here is merely to answer them, do you understand?"

"Yes, sire."

He followed Caspian outside, Rayana and you right behind them. Your husband wore a neutral expression, but you did notice the light tremble coursing through his right hand, and you intertwined your fingers together in response. He gave your hand a grateful squeeze.

"Leave us alone," he asked you and your daughter.

He gave you a reassuring smile, stroking your cheek.

"Just a minute."

You pulled your daughter away despite her protest, reassuring her.

What could Caspian do anyway? He wouldn't hurt the poor lad…

… unless he hurt his daughter of course. He would unleash all the fire of his wrath then.

But for now, he merely turned to the man standing before him. How old was he? Caspian guessed not older than 23. He stared into his eyes until he reached the young man's soul. He didn't see any evil inside. Merely fear.

"For how long have you been stationed in the Castle?" Caspian slowly asked.

"For a year now, sire."

"And courting my daughter for a little over half of that time, if my information are correct."

"Indeed," the soldier mumbled.

"What do you want?"

The man before him merely frowned.

"I don't understand, sire."

"What will it take for you to leave?"

The soldier stopped dead, staring at Caspian with a mixture of emotions that drowned his brown gaze: fear, outrage, acceptance, anger…

"Your Highness, if I may…" he spoke in a slow voice, choosing his words with great care. "I know that I have no title, but… I beg you to hear me out. I truly love Rayana, and I wish to marry her."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I will not give up on her."

"Money? How much? Or a title of your own perhaps? I could give you some land."

The soldier clenched his jaw and stood a little straighter.

"Please, sire, do not insult me. I do not want money, or a title, or power, or anything of the kind. I only wish to be with the woman I love more than anything on this earth. I also know though, that this is impossible without your blessing. She will be queen one day after all, and there are responsibilities that go with her birth that we cannot ignore. It is why we've kept our courtship secret, I thought it best if she was the one to talk with you about us. I can reassure you on my intentions, and I have never behaved in any way that could bring any of us shame though," he hurried to add, afraid to choose his words too clumsily. "But the only way that would make me give up on her would be for her to ask me to do so, and I can only imagine it happening if you or the queen refused our union. And even then, I would want to take nothing with me but my memories with her, and the love I hold for her that I shall keep with me till my last breath."

Caspian smiled.

"Good answer. What about seven for dinner tonight?"

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

 You were crying. Both you and Caspian were crying. Rayana was so beautiful in her long silvery dress. She was grinning, and Lucas was in bliss as well.

You could see it in their eyes. It was true love. What else could you do but cry of joy and melancholy as you stared at your daughter saying I do to the love of her life?

By your side, right behind your daughter, Caspian discreetly dried his eyes. You took his hand in yours, and he answered your supportive gesture with a thankful squeeze.

The vows were exchanged in the throne room draped with golden decorations and the most radiant flowers. The crowd in the room was in tears too. Then came the signing of a very special document that Caspian wrote himself, along with a new law he passed before the wedding: that a female firstborn was recognized as heir to the throne, and would be the only one granted the rights of the rightful leader of the kingdom once the time would come. Her husband would have no more rights or duties than the spouse of a king.

Caspian would have been damned if he saw anyone else than his daughter lead his people.

Lucas's family, although humble in appearance, were shining with pride and joy.

The king of Narnia turned to his daughter again, right when she looked up at him too. The gesture was spontaneous as they both rushed inside each other's arms.

He had made sure she would be the one leading the kingdom once he was gone, and now that Lucas was by her side, he knew she would never be alone. He could still see her fragile form in his arms as he held her for the first time, newly born, beautiful, the image flashed before his eyes as he closed his eyelids. She wasn't a baby anymore, but she would forever remain his baby, just like she would stay your baby too.

One day, Narnia would be in her hands. And what a kind and fair pair of hands it would be held by too.

 ***************************************************************** 

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[softspaceboibrian]

Golden Slumber (Ben Hardy)

Ben Hardy x reader

Summary: ever since after seeing a beautiful girl, Ben goes to this small café, at the same time, every single day. He never had the courage to talk to her, but one day, things change.

A/N: I had this saved in my drafts for so long I almost forgot about it. I don't think it's great, but the idea behind it is pretty cute.

Warnings: mentions of blindness (I do not know much about it, I tried to make it as real as possible), except for that nothing, just pure fluff

She sat there every day. The same table for two, right next the window, drinking a warm cup of coffee, listening to music, with her dog laying right there, at her feet. And every single day, Ben would walk inside the café and smile, noticing she was there already.

He had found himself staring at her more than once. She had something different, she was different, and he didn't need to talk to her to know it. It was the gentle way she would smile to the waitress, the way her fingers would brush through her dog's fur, the way she let her hair fall in front of her face, as if it didn't bother her. It was the sound of her laugh echoing into the small café whenever the waitress told her something funny. And deep down he wished he was the one to cause that laugh, but he never built up the courage to go and talk to her, introduce himself. Why? He had nothing to lose. He knew he was handsome, he was usually pretty confident when it came to women. Then why? It was probably because she wasn't like other girls, but he still couldn't put his finger on why she was different.

The first time he talked with her it was on a grayed-out Monday, it was later than usual and he had the feeling he had missed her, that she had already left. He raced down the street, only the hood of his sweater to protect his hair from the gentle rain. He wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, his head filled with thoughts. He turned around a corner and, to his surprise, he bumped into someone.

"Oh, fuck! Sorry!" he immediately started apologising, helping the woman to get up, not realising until it was too late who she was.

"Don't worry, it's probably my fault" she said, her eyes low on the ground, while she touched her pockets, as if to check everything was there. "Freyja, the wallet" she said and right afterwards, the dog was standing between them, pressing the wallet into her hand.

He looked at the girl, studying her, wishing she wasn't wearing sunglasses, so that he could look her in the eyes. His eyes were set on her and he couldn't really understand what was going on. She was there, the girl he wanted to talk to for months was standing right there, in front of him, and he still couldn't bring himself to say something, anything.

"I'm sorry again for this little accident. Thanks for the help." She said, smiling, before starting to walk away.

"Wait!" He turned around, calling for her, surpring both himself and the girl, given the expression she had on her face when she turned around. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee, or lunch. It was definitely my fault and I'd like to make up for it"

The girl simply nodded, taking a step towards the voice, a gentle smile on her lips. "Can you please help me? It's getting slippery because of the rain and Freyja is definitely distracted today" She giggled, reaching out for his arm or anything she could hold onto.

That's when it hit him. She was blind.

He said a soft "yes", realising a nod would have been pointless with her, letting her hold onto his arm and walking her to their café.

"Hope you're not going to think I'm a stalker or something" he said after spending the first 15 minutes of sitting down at her table on introducing each other and starting to get to know the other. "I come here at the same time everyday, and... well, I've been meaning to talk to you for quite a while now. You always look so... beautiful"

She felt her cheeks get warmer at the comment, her hands immediately reaching for her own face. She was blushing. Her cheeks were coloured with a soft tint of pink, a strand of hair fell in front of her face, and his hand immediately reached for it, moving it out or the way, tucking it behind her ear, his digits brushing lightly her soft skin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry... and thank you"

The rest of the day was spent in that bar, talking about everything, eating chips and drinking coffee. She told him about her condition, how she became blind; she told him how she got over the depression that took hold of her life after everything happened and he was fascinated by the way she spoke about it, the way she talked about her discovering new passions, new things to do, new hobbies, how she adapted to this new life. But most of all he couldn't help but smile when she started talking about how everything got better for her when Freyj, her dog, got into her life. He told her about Frankie, his own dog, and how important she was for him. When she smiled, saying that Frankie and Freyja should definitely meet, he felt his heart melt.

It was around mid afternoon when they finally headed out of that café to take a stroll in the nearby park. Luckily, it had stopped raining. "What time is it?" she asked, taking Ben's arm and walking side by side with him, while Freyja walked right before them, unleashed outside for the first time in so long.

"Do you have anything to do?" Ben was worried she was going to leave soon.

"No, I was just wondering, since it's getting a little chilly" she smiled, leaning closer to the boy who immediately stopped walking. "Is everything okay?" Next thing she knew, she felt something warm on her shoulders. It took her a few moments to realise in was actually the man's jacket.

"It's almost sunset" he replied, letting her grab his arm, before starting to walk again. "Do you remember what sunsets look like?" His was a genuine question, raised from curiousness.

"Not really. I remember I used to love them; my parents would take me to the countryside on the weekends when i was little and we would sit on the porch of our house just admiring the sky."

It was probably the melancholic feeling in the way she talked about that memory that led him to stop by a bench and help her sit down, Freyja by their feet. "I'll tell you what it looks like" He smiled, instinctively taking her hand in his. "The sky isn't totally clear, but definitely better than before. It's a bit clearer, but the clouds are actually good for the view. The sun is no longer visible from here, it's gone down behind some trees in the distance. The sunlight hits the clouds in the most magical way." He turned towards her, her soft smile had something in it that felt like sadness. It was in that moment that it all hit him: it was pointless to describe the image to her, talking about the colours and shades. He had to compare it to something closer to her, more familiar. "If it was a song, it would definitely be Golden Slumber by The Beatles. You know, both soft and a bit aggressive, but for sure something I would spend hours staring at"

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, smiling sincerely at the way Ben tried to make her feel comfortable. His thumb gently traced circles on the back of her hand, while he laid his head on top of hers, his eyes closed, not caring about anything but her.

Half an hour later he was walking her back home, telling her about how nice it was to spend time with her, repeating over and over again how beautiful she was, holding her hand instead of her arm. When they arrived in front of her door, he sighed, coming to an alt. "Today was lovely, thank you" she smiled turning towards him, without exactly facing him. "I hadn't spent such a nice day with someone in so long."

"Do you think we could... I mean, would you like to..." he was glad she couldn't see the redness that raised to his cheeks.

"Tomorrow, you know where to find me" she said, her hand sliding up his arm, until she found his neck. She placed her hand behind his head, gently pulling him down, helping herself with the other hand to find his lips. At first the blonde couldn't really understand what she was trying to do but soon enough it started to make sense. When she could feel him close enough, she leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Feeling his hands pressed against the small of her back, bringing her even closer, made her smile in the kiss.

"I'll bring Frankie, so Freyja can meet her" he whispered when they parted, bodies still close.

"She will love that"

[vampiricallyinclined]

Prompts: I can’t breathe” & “I hate how much I love you” & “Why are you so nice to me?”  - Prompt lists

Tagging: @pattpattpatterson (requester)

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Blood, Guilt, Anxiety, and generally anyone who can be triggered by depression/suicide, please just be wary. While there isn’t any of either in this imagine, it does mention suicide and I’d much rather you all be safe than read this if you’re triggered easily xx

To put things simply, you had fucked up. There was no amount of sugar coating that could cover the fact, no amount of reasoning or kind words that could change that. You couldn’t cry, couldn’t let the sheer mass of emotions that bubbled away inside of you out. No, you were still sat there on the staircase, in the exact same position as when your knees gave out from under you and the gravity of your actions had begun to settle within you. You weren’t sad, weren’t plagued by angst, weren’t angry. While all those feelings sat under the surface, waiting for the smallest word or action to set them free, you were still stuck in your shell-shocked state.

Ok, perhaps if Damon had let you in on his little plan things may have gone differently. And there was no way anyone could doubt your intentions, you had only been trying to help, but that didn’t change the horrific outcome that had followed. When all was said and done you had made your escape quickly and quietly, unable to cope with the sympathetic glances your friends had thrown your way, or what was soon to follow, needing to simply get away and think it all through.

It had never been your intention for your life to go this way. Sure, there were some who romanticized and dreamt of a never-ending life, of living in the shadows as a vampire, but you were not one of them, and your friends knew that very well. Death gave life meaning, it made you strive to improve yourself, to do things and not just let time pass you by, because, hey, life is short. But now everything had changed. Life was no longer so short, in fact, if you kept yourself out of any danger, out of the eyes of anyone who might cause you harm, it could be indefinite. Sure, you could explore so much more of the world now, but with out the pressure of time, what was pushing you to do so?

“I thought I’d find you here,” a soft voice pulled your attention from your thoughts, focusing instead on the man who was now leaning against the doorway, his hands in his pockets, a small melancholic smile on his lips.

“Here I am,” you tried to joke back, but your voice was softer than you had intended, cracking ever so slightly after the hours of silence it had undergone since your escape from your friends. Stefan’s smile faded slightly, being drowned out by the sympathy in his eyes as he slowly made his way towards you, making sure not to overwhelm you as you shuffled to the side of the step, giving him room to sit next to you which he did without hesitation.

Part of you wanted him to wrap his arms around you, to hold you close and utter calming words in your ear, telling you everything would be alright, but more than that you needed the truth, and that was what he was willing to provide. Taking your hand gently in his own, he gave you a soft smile, silently encouraging you to relax into him.

Leaning against his side, your emotions began to come forwards as you knew they were bound to do. Your eyes closed tightly as you tried to keep the tears at bay, and your head hung low against his shoulder as a shuddering sigh fell from your lips.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Stefan sighed, sincerity oozing from his words as he leant into your touch. You knew he felt guilty about what had happened, particularly as it had been his blood that had been in your system at the time of your death, and while you wanted to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t actually do anything wrong, your own misery was too much for you to focus on anything else at that moment.

“It’s my fault,” you shook your head ever so slightly, knowing full well that your death was entirely based on your own distrust for his brother. If you had just believed that he wouldn’t actually put Jeremy in harms way, if you had taken the time to realize he was wearing the Gilbert ring and not simply rushed out and pushed him out of the way of the accident that was bound to happen, you would still be alive and well, with particular empathises on being alive. But no, you had gone ahead without thinking, putting yourself in his place and finding yourself now stuck with a predicament you had never wanted to face.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N,” Stefan shook his head, turning to face you with a frown. “You were trying to do the right thing, the good thing. Ok, it may not have worked out perfectly, but you were being you, and you shouldn’t feel bad about that.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” you asked with an emotionless laugh.

“Come on, Y/N,” Stefan sighed with a slight smile, giving you a light yet pointed look. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but what happened today wasn’t your fault. And I’m not being overly nice or anything, any decent human would do the exact same thing.”

“Or vampire,” you added teasingly, throwing him a small smile, before your thoughts went back to the decision at hand. You could either feed and turn, continuing to see each day through, continuing to learn and grow, but at the cost of a life filled with guilt and self-hatred, or you could let the time pass and pass away with it. Before you had actually found yourself plagued with the decision, you had always thought you would go with the latter, terrified of acting out one day and hurting someone you loved, or anyone for that matter. But now that you were faced with the decision, now that it was quite literally a case of life or death, you weren’t so certain.  

“What should I do, Stefan?” you questioned desperately, needing to hear his thoughts above anyone else’s. He had been through this, he had made his decision decades before you had even been born, and he knew far better than you whether you would grow to regret it or not.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, standing up and beginning to pace in front of you as he weighed out the options. “I know it’s not what you wanted, but it’s better than the alternative, and I don’t care if it’s selfish, I don’t care about my own reasons for it, but I want you to turn.”

“What are you talking about? How are you being selfish?” you questioned with a furrowed brow, leaning forwards on your step as you tried to gauge what he was thinking, what he wasn’t saying.  

“I love you, and I hate how much I love you, because it makes me selfish, Y/N. I know this should be your choice, I know that you should be the one to decide what to do, that I shouldn’t force you to become like me, but I can’t. I can’t cope with the thought of not having you in my life, I can’t cope with the thought of losing you, with the thought of you leaving us all when you’ve got so much life left to live!”

“You-you love me?” you questioned in shock, your mouth falling open at the end of your words as you tried to grasp what he had just said. Yes, there were other factors to his words, there was a desperation that cut to your very core, but you couldn’t focus on any of that right now. The man of your dreams had just admitted to being in love with you and that changed absolutely everything.

Realization dawned for him and his eyes widened dramatically. His pacing came to a sudden stop and he ran a hand anxiously through his hair, ruining its neat style as he looked to you with a pleading gaze, not knowing what to do or say, but knowing he couldn’t let the moment slip away.

“Yes, Y/N,” he nodded timidly, suddenly wondering whether this was the best or worst time to have such an admission take place. It could send you in either direction for your decision, based entirely on how you felt about him, and that terrified him more than he could put into words.

“I can’t breathe,” you rushed out the words, beginning to hyperventilate as your thoughts rushed through your mind at an astonishing pace. Fear and anxiety, anger and regret, and above all an elated happiness ran through your emotions, creating a whirlwind within you that had you panicking more than you ever had before. You didn’t know what to think, let alone what to say or do. You were already dealing with so much, and now he had admitted he loved you and that was enough to send you over the edge.

“Hey, hey,” Stefan spoke in a soothing voice, his features softening instantly as he focused on calming you down. “It’s ok, it’s all ok, I promise,” he reassured, taking your hands in his once more. “None of that matters right now, ok? Just, just pretend I didn’t say anything and we can focus on your decision, ok?”

Nodding slowly, despite the uncertainty that gnawed away at your gut you gave him a small smile, letting him relax even if your own fears had simply been put away for the moment.

While a part of you knew that your decision should not have been affected in any way by his words, you knew deep down that it had. There was a comfort that had grown within you, despite the menagerie of other, far more complicated, feelings that had also come with his words. Ok, you had nothing sorted out, and you hadn’t even told him about your own feelings for him, but he loved you, he actually loved you. Despite the many other fears that still remained at the thought of finishing the transition, one had suddenly decreased dramatically. If Stefan Salvatore loved you there was no way he would let you hurt anyone, there was no way he would stand by and let any of your friends and family get hurt by you, there was no way he would let you deal with that pain and guilt.

“Stefan,” you started slowly, your eyes trailing up until they met his anxious gaze. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he replied almost too quickly, and judging by the quick furrow of his brows he had noticed just how dangerous his reply could have been.

“Promise me you’ll teach me control, you’ll teach me how to cope around human blood without going all helter-skelter or turn off my humanity or anything stupid, ok?” you asked in a serious tone. There was no begging or pleading in your voice, just a determination that this was how it would be, that he would agree to this.

“Of course,” he sighed almost in relief as a small smile played on the corners of his lips. His eyes took in every bit of you as he searched you for confirmation of the hopeful thoughts that were playing in his mind. “Does that mean you’ve decided to stay with us?” he asked softly, as if he were both excited and terrified to hear the answer actually be said out loud.

With an encouraging grin, you stood up on the staircase, holding his hand in yours. “Come on you, let’s go get Bonnie to make me a daylight ring and get some blood into me,” you nodded softly, attempting to appear far more confident about your decision than you truly were.

Before you could make your way down the stairs, Stefan had dropped your hand, a relieved laugh falling from his lips as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you off the ground and spinning you around cheerfully. A light laugh fell from your lips and as you looked down at the sheer happiness radiating off him, you knew you had made the right decision. Placing you back on the step you had just been sitting on, Stefan stared at you with an awe filled gaze.

“Just for the record,” you started, your smile still plastered on your face as your arms remained wrapped around him, and his around you. “I rather love you too, Mister Salvatore.”