#there's precious little evidence of her being a blonde her whole life--

[eclipsecrowned]

pov zorya was born blonde. natural blonde. her (canon) brother got the z*t*ra tall dark and handsome genes, she got the short weird and blonde c*nst*nt*ne genes.

she dyes her hair dark for some reason, maybe going undercover. people keep complimenting her on how much better she looks with her 'natural' hair because that peroxide blonde was doing her no favors.

zo just ; - ; motherfuckers the blonde is my natural hair--

[genshingarbage]

Hiii, Good Morning/Good afternoon/Good evening Mod Kaeya,Mod Diluc^^, It's my first time requesting, Can I request? Angst with any Genshin Impact characters?,Soo The genshin characters are much more spending time with Lumine? Then the reader asks why they aren't spending much time with them and the genshin characters snaps and said the readers are weak ( reader is already insecured because they can't fight) and they have work to do then the reader leaves to fight hilichurl camps and unfortunately there's 2 Mitachurls ,luckly the genshin characters were on time to save the reader? Then they apologized to them? (It's Gn reader^^) sorry if it's alot and sorry if my grammar is wrong you both can disregard this ask stay safe ^^

Good afternoon dear Traveler!! Well done for making your first request! And such a lengthy one too oh my~ Your grammar is fine don’t even worry about it. Sorry for the long wait, Mod Diluc and I have been busy on the Kuzuha banner haha but I hope you enjoy this tear jerking tale (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧- Mod Kaeya

Recommending this song for this oneshot!

Go checkout Anna_drw01 for more art like this!! Here’s her artstation!

The distant scientist, renowned for being hard to get close to was someone you used to consider one of you closest friends. The two of you spent day and night together, hellbent of cracking open every single challenge you possibly could together. Many considered you two to be able to solve any mystery put in front of you together.

The keyword was together.

There was a mystery you yourself couldn’t solve; Why was Albedo’s time with you slowly becoming a rarity?

You’d been wondering why he’d been spending so much less time in the lab he’d meticulously built over years of his life or on site where his precious research was being buried little by little by crystalline flakes, tending to his experiments and recording time sensitive data that would be valuable for months to come for the research team. Albedo had been gone so long both you and Sucrose had designed a plan in order to cover the work he’s left unattended whilst managing your own on top of the store. It was beginning to get concerning. If the leader of the investigation squad was absent constantly then what did that mean for the rest of you? Surely he was only gone for the sake of something important he’d found, something he placed above everything else he was researching. That’s what you lent yourself into believing.

That is, until you saw him with her.

You couldn’t blame him honestly, Lumine was gorgeous. Her golden hair and fiery eyes are what a lot of men probably look for in a partner, even more so was the mystery behind her origins and the raw power she held in her fingertips at any given moment.

You didn’t have to have a vision to be able to tell that.

Maybe that was another thing he sought in her.

A traveling partner that could wield the powers of the elements, a traveling partner that could hold their own against the world. Maybe that wasn’t all he was looking for but also a romantic partner.

He finally came back to the investigation camp briefly one night, it was during a particularly rough blizzard ravaging across Dragonspine and the areas surrounding it a little like a turbulent child tossing snowflakes across already painted, buried monochrome peaks. He trudged into the camp with her rambunctious adventuring party, shouted something over the whipping wind about how they should get warm inside one of the communal tents dotted around the sparse camp halfway up the summit you inhabited and then ducked into the burgundy tent you were working away in with nothing but the clinking of vials harmonizing with the bubbling of flames. It was nothing but candle light right then in the morbid lonely night, only the sounds of the howling gales outside of the ones in your lab. If you’d felt like you were being watched during the night before now, Albedo’s piercing analytical gaze did nothing but soothe the loneliness you’d held inside yourself all night.

“I need a strong multi use Geoculus locator, if we have any.” The blonde said

He must’ve seen your shoulders perk up because he waited patiently as you searched through the shelves upon shelves of prototypes you’ve developed. After somehow finding one, you patted over to him. He seemed pleased with your work, if a bit distant as usual. He was in a good mood so you guessed would be the best time if any to ask. “Sir… with all due respect why have you been away so long?”

Albedo’s pale face was blank as usual though he blinked as if surprised you spoke, “Lumine needed someone with a sufficient Geo vision, I happened to be the one she knew the best to get the job done.”

“So you’ll be returning?”

“I never said that.”

You tried not to take it harshly, this was just how he spoke after all. “…could I come along then?” It was a long shot yes but you still missed his company, if it meant having to deal with him getting buddy buddy with that Outrider then you would suffer. 

It was quiet for a moment between you two as you stared him down and he observed the locator thoroughly. After he was pleased enough with the golden glowing device it was packed away into his back pocket without so much as a second thought, the man was obviously stalling while he thought carefully over the question but the result wouldn’t be to your liking evidently. You were about to make  a point you hoped would be convincing before he spoke, his voice sharp and words cold like the very ice being tossed around the blackened sky.

“No, you’re not a skilled enough fighter so you’d only slow us down more than we can handle to be right now. You’d be useless to us.” He put a hand to his chin for a moment in thought, “If you’d had been able to development a synthetic elemental burst like Sucrose’s swirl mark II…I would have considered but you can’t even do that.”

Watching him leave with them the morning after was torturous, they rushed off into the snowy landscape with barely a goodbye and never a second glance from Albedo beyond that. It stung.

Maybe that’s why when hilichurl camps, specifically ones becoming a nuisance to caravans as well as supply lines along Dragonspine almost avidly to the near point where there would be commissions called in, were brought up in conversation you elected to take a weapon and simply clear them out yourself. You could barely fight one off but usually they were smaller towards the base of the mountain so you figured it would be alright. You would just patch yourself up if you got a bit injured. Surely the pain of the injures would busy your silly little heart long enough to forget about Albedo and his cruel words to you, surely you would barricade your feelings of pining behind walls of broken bones and struggling through the snow. Maybe that was the remedy, the answer you needed to your mystery. Your pleas would probably be hidden by the snowstorms anyways.

Mitachurls unfortunately inhabited bigger camps. Thankfully, Frost Lawlichurls tended to live alone. The former happened to find it’s way to you, charging with the might of a bull on ozmanthys wine. As you were bowled over you heard an abrupt shout, maybe saw a brief flash of familiar golden light as the battle grounds around you erupted further into chaos but it didn’t matter that pale arms were abruptly gripping you to a panicked sword user. Your vision was to blurry, the shouts of attacks and spells too muffled and faint, your body felt too limp to comprehend even the though of moving. You could barely breathe.

Someone was muttering, crouched around you and holding you close, muttering something over and over again. Something important. The feeling of their lips pressed against your forehead, his quiet gut heaving sobs as he rocked you back and forth. Albedo’s pleas for you to just hang on a moment longer—

Where were you again?

There was sunlight and it was warm, a pleasant warmth that almost lulled you back to the sleep you’d fallen into. The only thing that kept you awake was that this was indeed not your bed.

Where were you?

Sitting up hurt, your whole body ached and you were certain something must have been rearranged or was missing because the pain shot through you like an arrow. Your sharp exhale alerted the two others in the room, one who immediately sprinted to get a nurse in an emerald and navy flurry of skirts and capes.

You were dizzy, only steadied by a gentle hand on your limp shoulder. Ah, when did you turn to face him?

The blonde man infront of you asked if you remembered what happened, his voice was soft but didn’t hold any emotion. The smoky circles around his beautiful striking cerulean eyes did nothing but worry you slightly as they implied a long period of time without sleep. You’d imagine him to be the sciency type who didn’t really know what to think of other people so he stayed nose deep in books to pass the time, though there was a deep sadness in the way he held himself you couldn’t understand.

“I don’t…who are you?” You thought you saw him flinch but figured it was a trick of the light.

“No one important, nevermind me.” The man sat up with an unreadable expression even for how blank it had been for this whole brief conversation after you had awoken, getting up from his chair to begin walking to the door when he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“…for what?” You didn’t understand.

“Nothing that would natter now, please. Rest.”

You didn’t remember.

[tteokdoroki]

broken beauty | k.bakugou

⇝ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 2.1K

⇝ rating: for everyone.

⇝ genre: pro hero!au, model!au, angst.

⇝ summary: katsuki bakugou had never given you a reason to feel insecure, but when the distance between your worlds finally dawns on you, you feel yourself begin to break.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! heavy angst, no happy ending, mentions of insecurity, self doubt, emotional distress and bakugou cursing again.

⇝ author’s note(s): hello everyone, i hope you’re all doing well and keeping safe during this time, this one-shot is a request from @yourlocalbabybird​​​ !!! i hope the angst is heavy enough for you heh, i tried my best so i hope you enjoy. thank you for all the love on my blog. also i tried a new banner style which i like a lot :(

with everything going on recently i’ve found this carrd to help us all stay educated and mindful of others <3

⇝ masterlist | requests

bakugou had never given you a reason to feel insecure.

through your entire relationship, all you’d ever received from him was love— while it might not have been through grandest if gestures and shouting it from the rooftops, he showed you through lingering touches, soft kisses— dates on the rooftop and under the sunrise with hazy eyes and linked fingers. you were his world and he was yours, no relationship you’d ever had, felt as tight and secure as the one yourself and katsuki shared.

but that didn’t mean, you didn’t feel insecure by your own accord.

‘it’s just a modelling gig, nothing more, nothing less.’ is what you have to remind yourself while you sit behind the scenes on the set of bakugou’s latest shoot. your boyfriend is not a model per say, but fashion designers love a pro hero with good looks and a popular rank amongst the people; not only does it boost their brand but it’s often a good PR move on behalf of the heroes. a win win situation for all, including your boyfriend. bakugou is hot, you know that, he knows it and god so does the rest of japan— so it’s only natural that the top brands would want him splayed out on the cover of next month’s vogue magazine.

you’re proud of him, really, with your boyfriend right on track to become the next number two— you’re happy that he’s got the chance to experience an opportunity like this...but you can’t help but watch with burning eyes and a strained heart as he poses for the camera with her. ochako uraraka is no more of a model than your precious katsuki; but she is also sweet,  gorgeous and a pro hero like himself. and unlike you, they had known each other since high school, being on the same hero course and all— but being a hero wasn’t an option for you, growing up quirkless you had forced you to choose a quieter route in life and whereby you opened up your own little cafe, so it was by chance that you’d even met your boyfriend.

everything was by chance. meeting bakugou, falling for bakugou, loving bakugou. but the world would never know of you, having a quirkless girlfriend could severely damage your lover’s reputation and rank on the charts— so of course, ochako would have been the next best choice to replace you by his side on the cover.

at the time, when plans for the shoot had first been revealed, you had been okay with it. bakugou had made sure of that, he would never do anything you weren’t comfortable with or that exceeded the bounds of your relationship, and the fairytale theme certainly didn’t bother you back then. but now; upon seeing the shirtless dragon king and barley clothed princess set up they had going for the two, you fee bile rise up in your throat and uncomfortable churning in your stomach— a sense of jealousy directing itself at the girl who had her hands all over your boyfriend, merely for the purpose of a photoshoot.

you hate the way they look at each other, as if they belong together— ‘it’s just acting.’ you tell yourself as bakugou lifts the brunette into his arms behind the camera, her dainty fingers splayed out against the caramel of his chest and the look in her eyes writes words of love. you shouldn’t be mad, upset or angry. it’s just his job, but you can’t help but feel that maybe bakugou would be better off with her instead of you.

ochako and bakugou, yn and bakugou. your mind had made itself up, it knew which one sounded better—the one where you weren’t included. the two would make sense together, both stunning pro heroes on the way to becoming the top, while you were just an ordinary girl with an ordinary life. clutching at your chest, you give bakugou a weak smile while he waves to you between pictures, blinking away tears you didn’t realise had formed.

“okay,” the shoot director claps, fixing the cape drapes neatly across the blonde’s shoulders. “i want you guys to look at each other; like you’re about to kiss— can you do that? and it’ll be the last shot for the day.”

your heartbeat stops in its tracks while blood rushes through your ears, the sound tuning everything out but that of katsuki’s voice. “i think we can do that.” is all you manage to make out before you jump to your feet and make a dash for the bathroom. you can no longer take being in a room with them both, the insecurities in your mind eating you alive.

you don’t bother to look back when you hear bakugou call your name, you don’t think you can handle seeing them together for a moment more.

“yn, baby...are you in here?”

chewing on your bottom lip, you do your best not to make a sound as the door to the bathrooms slams open so hard it almost hits the next wall. you knew it’d only be a matter of time before bakugou started searching for you, but then again you’d only been hidden away in the toilet cubicle for about fifteen minutes.

without a response, katsuki starts to check each cubicle next— growing more and more desperate by the second. you know he hates seeing you sad, it lifts your heart, only just, to know that the cares but the way you feel can’t be helped and couldn’t be for the longest time. you paw at your cheeks where tears have seared a pathway down them, trying to cover up any evidence of your emotions as your boyfriend approaches your cubicle.

the explosive blonde stops right outside of yours, his boots appearing in your view just underneath the door. “yn, i know you’re in there,” he mumbles simply after attempting to push open the door, voice so quiet you would have missed him if you weren’t hyper aware of his presence. it’s locked, of course. “come out and let’s talk, yeah?” 

“can’t,” you whisper, moving to hug your knees whilst sitting on the toilet seat, as if that’s going to hide you away from the world.

“baby is this about the last shot? i swear i wasn’t thinking about what the director said— just wanted to get us home, you’ve been waiting for me all fuckin’ day...”

you hear bakugou sigh and lean against the door, an attempt to gather his feelings and words before talking again. you hate that you’re so insecure, at no fault of bakugou’s but simply because of your nature— you hate that the way you think could cause such a rift between yourself and the man you love. that’s why you had to do this.

but your lips move before your mind can catch up, whispering the questions that plague your thoughts and make you feel sick to the stomach. “would you have done it? kissed ochako for the shoot if i hadn’t been there?” the raging green of jealousy and fear swirl in the depths of your head, practically swallowing you whole throughout katsuki’s silence. was she prettier than you? did he like her too?

“fuck no... baby, god no—where is all of this coming from?”

you ignore his question and answer with another. “then, are you attracted to her?”

“not in the way that i am to you, yn there’s no one fucking else for me except for you. shit. will you tell me what’s going on now? let me in.” katsuki practically begs through the closed door, you can tell he’s leaning against it from how close he sounds. deep down, you know that everything you say hurts the blonde just as much as it hurts you— you don’t want him to be in pain alone and yet you’re not quite ready to face him. so instead, you slip to the floor and hold your hand out from underneath the door, waiting for your lover to take it. it’s not long before your palm is engulfed by a familiar hold and sense of warmth, and you almost smile at how quickly the pro is to grab your hand. “please come out, honey bear. tell me what you’re feeling. is it ‘cause of the shoot?”

you shake your head once before realising he can’t see you and squeeze his hand instead— milking the silence for a moment more, in order to think. to think about how you’re going to tell your charming,  wonderful, amazing boyfriend that you can’t be his girlfriend anymore. that you’re from two separate worlds, in which his beats you down and makes you feel so insecure that you can’t stand back up without his help. how do you tell him without blaming him? how do you try without hurting him? “it wasn’t the shoot, katsu...” you start, that your voice trembles from the get go. it was never about the shoot. “katsu... you know i love you right?”

“of course, i love you too.” i hope you do.

“then, please understand...” i’m sorry.

“understand what, yn?” that i can’t stay.

“please understand why i can’t be with you anymore.” you breathe, leaning back against the cubicle wall as the sob that’s been building up in your chest finally breaks free.

for a second, you think bakugou will yank his hand away, tell you that he’s relieved and leave you there heart broken but to your surprise; he grabs onto you tighter— pressing himself against the cubicle even more as if he could phase right through and pull you into his arms. “you want to leave me—?” the explosive hero asks more so to himself than to you and you hate to imagine the pained confusion that now sits heavily in his vermillion eyes. “yn, please wait—“

“katsuki,” you cut him off with a heavy sigh and watery eyes, every fibre in your being is telling you not to do this— but for the sake of both you and your lover, you really have no choice. you need to get better, you want to start feeling good about yourself again but to do that you need to let go of him and your relationship so you have room to grow. “baby, i just want you to know that you’ve never done anything to make me insecure about this relationship or about myself; but when it does happen— when i do get insecure...i feel myself begining to break...” you turn your head to press it against the door; feeling bakugou’s warmth radiate through it. “we’re from two different worlds, katsu; and i simply don’t have a place in yours... you’re a pro hero and i’m the quirkless bland girlfriend who can’t be seen with you because of who you are—“

this time, the blonde interjects— slamming his fist against the door so hard that it makes you jump. “then...then fuckin’ be seen with me, i don’t give a crap about what my publicist says. not when you feel like that about yourself,” you see bakugou’s resolve crumbing even when you physically can’t. you don’t know what hurts more. “i need you here, with me, please—“

another squeeze to your hand, another silent plea. “katsuki, i’m so tired of looking down on myself too, i don’t want to feel bad because of the worlds we’re in and who we are but...” you falter as you hear you boyfriend finally crack through the shaky breaths he exhales on the other side. “but, i need to get better, for me, for both of us...i have to let us go.”

silence crackles through the air in the bathroom, heavy with pain unlike the usual comfortable ones you share together— where nothing else matters on the world aside from the love you have together. prying your hand from bakugou’s death grip, you stand up to wipe at your tears stained cheeks and sore eyes before unlocking the door to your cubicle. the blonde sits on the floor opposite you, still in the outfit the stylists had spent ages dressing him in hours before. only this time he’s there with a dark storm cloud sitting heavily over his precious heart.

vermillion eyes find yours, tired and broken beyond belief and you figure that you probably look the same. but still, bakugou smiles and opens his arms out for to ease your way into. “you’ll come back to me, right?” he almost whimpers when you finally relax into his chest, clinging onto his arms as if he’ll disappear. you know he understands, he doesn’t want to see you suffer anymore.

“i always will.”

you don’t know how long you spend holding each other from that moment on, in a quietness that speaks volumes of goodbyes and i love yous. all you know, is that your heart will always belong to katsuki bakugou long after this day; a broken beauty and all.

some more helpful links about recent events:

educate yourself carrd

issues going on in the world carrd

blm carrd

[pomegranate-pen]

°FLOWERS° (Joseph Desaulnier x Reader) Chapter.1. a strange meeting

theatre AU! reader is a female in the fanfic!

The sun seemed to shine better than ever in the spring morning. children of all ages walking home with their friends or parents. the beautiful flowers being at their best state. bloomed and full of energy. ah yes, it all seemed like a perfect day.

then, why were you so unbelievably nervous?

your heart couldn't stop beating as you looked out the window with such anxiousness resting in your eyes that it almost made your mother anxious as well. "Y/n." she sighed. putting a strand of her grey-ish blonde hair behind her ear. "stop being so nervous. you already got the role."

"I- I know." you stutter out. inhaling deep short breaths as fast as you can. "but I can't stop myself. it's such an important role-"

"sweetie," your mother cut you off. her voice sounded soft and yet her tone was stern. you wondered how she could do that so easily. "I know that it's a big role. especially for someone new to the whole theatre thing." she sympathized with you. "but your talented enough for it. you worked your ass off for years for this moment."

you suddenly chuckled. "I never thought I'd ever hear the great Mary, actress and the Madame Bella of her decade, say the word 'ass'." she snorted and looked away. suddenly embarrassed by herself. "oh please." she rolled her eyes. " I said far worse words than that."

"I'm not as formal as you think I am sweetie." she noted. looking out of the window and seeing the streets she remembers walking on in the past. she smiled at the sweet memories. "in fact, I'm known as a rebel most of the time. you turned your head around from utter shock. "you? a rebel?!" you asked, surprised that you never heard that story before. she smirked and looked at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "oh sweetie," she chuckled. "I don't tell you everything about my life. somethings were better off being said in another time."

you gave a huffed laugh and looked at the window again. still surprised by this new source of information. your mother loved to tell you stories about her famous era. she was known and beloved by millions, if not billions of people around the world. after twenty five years, she decided to retire. wanting to give someone else the chance to shine as well. you.

even though you were her daughter, you were rarely shown to the public. instead, you'd be homeschooled and were trained to be a professional singer at a very young age. Mary gave a fake cry. " I can't believe my little precious y/n is finally growing up." she pinched your cheeks. she gave a sad, motherly frown. "Aw," she cupped your cheeks. " look at you, all grown up and ready to be the next Madame Bella." she squeezed your cheeks. making you look like a pufferfish. she suddenly let go of your face and sighed dramatically, all topped with a dramatic pose. "it's like it was only yesterday when you proudly proclaimed that you wanted to be just like me. wanting me to teach you how to sing." she smiled at that memory.

you only hummed in response. very enamored by your own thoughts and used to her dramatic behavior. as you heard the car stop, your heart drops to your stomach. you bit your lip anxiously as you await the driver to open the door. mumbling a 'thank you' to him as you walked out.

as you looked at the old theatre, you can't help but remember it's glory days. you'd watch the taped videos of the beautiful theatre, shining with only the brightest of lights and your mother's name written with them. it looked nothing like the way it was in that time now. all of it's walls seemed old and cracks were evident on them. you guessed thats what happens when most of your theatre shows don't get famous for thirty years. your mother gave a sad sigh as she seen its poor state.

going inside the theatre, you took note of how dirty it looked. in almost every spot there was a thick layer of dust around it. the chairs, the curtains on the stage, everything. it almost made your nose want to scrunch up and make you sneeze. as your eyes seem to wander around the theatre more, you finally noticed the two managers of the theatre. Xie Bi'an and Fan Wujiu.

they both looked shocked by your entrance. Xie cleared his throat and looked at your mother. "Mary, it's nice to see you again." he said in the softest tone you've ever heard. " you haven't aged a bit." your mother snorted. "Xie, I would like it if you would stop lying." they both laughed.

"you're quite early" Fan suddenly chimed in. Mary only shrugged. "I have a meeting soon."

Xie turned his head to your direction. "why hello again, Y/n." he smiled kindly. you nodded and finally spoke in return. "It's nice to see you both again." you took a deep breath. "Thank you for giving me this amazing opportunity." Xie shook his head. " it's no problem at all. why wouldn't we pick someone as talented as you."

"you showed us that you had the capabilities for being Madame Bella." Fan said. "why wouldn't we have picked you?" his words felt like they were complimenting you, yet not letting you get too proud of it.

"Well," Xie looked at Mary and then back at you. "would you two like a tour?" Mary searched through her purse, took out her phone and frowned. "I'm afraid I can't join you."

they two managers nodded in understanding in bid her goodbye. your mother informed you that your suitcase will be at your new apartment, gave you one last goodbye hug. (which almost made her tear up) and said goodbye.

"she sure does love you." Xie said and you both chuckled. "Well then, shall we?" you nod.

the tour was quite interesting. they showed you each and every room with a story of its own. the whole theatre might've looked old and a bit broken, but you couldn't help but think like it just meant that the whole theatre had a long history. it made you feel so intrigued.

"And this," Xie turned the door knob and opened the door for you. "is the green room." you walked inside the room and looked around you. the couches looked comfortable, although a bit dusty. a few old flyers of their old shows being stuck on the wall. some of them having white lined developed on them, and some threatening to fall onto the ground with only a soft blow of wind.

Xie sighed. "I'm truly sorry for this Y/n." you looked at him confused." the theatre isn't...well...in the 'best' state right now." you shook your head and smiled at him. "there's no need to apologize. I'm not bothered by it's state at all."

"I would actually love to help you all fix this place up." you mentioned. Xie smiled as Fan only hummed in response. "we'd love to have your help."

Fan suddenly started walking to the door. "I think the others have arrived." he leaned his head a bit forward. " I hear some chattering in the stage." he walked away. seemingly going to the said location. Xie looked back at you and tilted his head, as if giving you a silent invitation to join him and Fan. you nod in agreement.

the closer you got, the voices have gotten louder, you couldn't really understand what they were saying yet, but you noticed how the voices kept talking over each other. as you reached closer to the stage, you heard a loud groan by Fan. "Get out!" he shouted.

you and Xie immediately ran to him, finally realizing that it's not the staff. "what's going on here?!" Xie spoke up and the room suddenly went silent.

the group of reporters and photographers that were bombarding Fan with question turned around to him. and suddenly, they all noticed you a few feet away from him and sprinted at your direction.

it was all too sudden. you couldn't even comprehend what was going on. the lights flickering from the cameras and the microphones that were at your throat were starting to annoy you. there voice was first only muffled voices all mixed together but as you took a deep breath, you finally started to hear what they were saying properly.

"Miss Y/n! how did they find out about you?"

"why did they pick you so suddenly?!"

"did you know that Xie Bi'an and Fan Wujiu didn't even start an auditioning for the role this year?!"

"what do you think about all the people in the world who were trying to get the role?!"

"What is your response to those whom have trained forever to get this role?!"

"Do you think-"

"ENOUGH!" the sudden loud scream from Xie startled everyone. all of the reporters flinched and looked at the now annoyed man. his frown was evident and his eyes shown serious judgement. "get out of our theatre. now."

and like a sudden bolt of lightning, they all squeaked at his sudden calm rage and ran away. making an immediately bee line to the exit. a pang of guilt went straight to Xie's heart as he saw their scared faces.

Xie grumbled as Fan laughed. "what a bunch of fools." he huffed. amused by the look of shock in the reporters faces as they left. "I haven't seen you this angry for a long time Xie." he hummed in amusement. Xie only sighed and shook his head. "I shouldn't have yelled at them like that." he said, guilt shown in both his eyes and voice. "they were just doing their job."

Fan walked closer to him and patted his shoulder. "it's alright." he said. "anyone would've done the same thing. you have to admit, they were being too overwhelming." Xie only took a deep breath in response. averting his attention to you instead as Fan followed his gaze.

both of their eyes widened a bit as they saw you, stood frozen like a statue and eyes wide like saucers, staring at the ground as if it were something else.

"ehm-" Xie almost felt too awkward to speak. unsure of how to respond to your state. "Miss Y/n, are you alright?"

you stood there silent for three seconds as you blinked and opened your mouth to speak. "Y-you..." she jolted a bit from the new though in her mind. "you...didn't do the audition ceremony?..." she looked at them, eyes full of worry and guilt.

Xie was almost left speechless. the expression in your face was making him feel guilty as well. "No..we didn't." he sighed. "b-but why?!" you utter out. body almost shaking. "isn't the whole history of Lady Bella about 'finding a talented commoner and giving them the spotlight they deserve'?!"

"that's how you found my mother." you calm your nerves as you tried your best to process the whole new information. "that's how you gave her the best life she could ever think of and- just-" your whole body was shaking, the gravity of the situation was seeping into your bones. "you promised thousands of people the night of the premier that- for every generation you'll find the new Madame Bella among the commoners- how could you-"

"Miss Y/n," Fan came next to you and puts his hands on your shoulders. you looked up at him with fear and worry. he took a deep breath, remembering Xie's lessons of how to be serious and not scaring someone while speaking with them. " please calm down." he started. "Yes, we know that we've broken our promise to thousands- if not millions of people. but that was the past. " he frowned bitterly. "we were foolish back then. we thought that we could give anyone a chance to shine..."

"But now," he looked down at you with a serious look. "We want you to be Madame Bella. and you accepted it. we think you're the right person for this job and if you can't handle it. then you can leave if you'd like."

your shoulders tensed at that sentence. your face scrunched up into a conflicted look.

"n-no." you speak once again. "I can handle it. it's just that..." you took a deep breath and bubbled up your feelings as you looked at them both. "Please inform me about these topics sooner. as a future lady Bella, I must keep my reputation at the best rate it can be. and so, I would like it if you'd tell me such important topic like these."

Xie smiled kindly. "understood." Xie looked at his watch and hummed. "Miss Y/n, why don't you take a walk?" he suggested. "there's a beautiful park here just a few feet away. it could help you clear your mind a bit."

you thought for a second before nodding. "yes.. that would sound lovely." you walked to the exit. "I'll be back here in thirty minutes."

....

Joseph hated spring.

it reminded him too much of those lovely days he had with his brother, running down the flower fields and giggling away. his brother sneezing a bit every five minutes. only to laugh it off and brush it away as a spring allergy.

not knowing that only in a month, he'd be dead.

he grumbled and shook his head. he took his camera out of his bag and flickered with it a bit as a distraction to all of his bitter thoughts.

He looked around the gorgeous park, trying to find something to help his sudden  creative block.

"This isn't good." he sighed. He had to be in the theatre in thirty minutes and yet, he found himself unable to pour out any creativity today.

He turned on his phone and went to the calendar. A frown was formed on his face as he realized what was distracting him this whole time.

"It's close..." He sighed as he starred at the screen. "You were too young brother..."

He gulped, trying his best to not start a sobbing fest all over again. He looked around the park once again. His eyes begging for any sort of distractions.

"....mad before." He picked up a source of sound with his ears. He glanced back to see two people, one with a camera and the other with a microphone speaking to each other and faces scared.

He shouldn't be listening in to a conversation. It's disrespectful and he knew that. But he couldn't help but listen, his curiosity and need of a distraction taking over him completely.

"Me neither." The women with the microphone said. "I knew we shouldn't have visited them in the morning! Everyone is grumpy in mornings." She sighed.

"The girl was so shocked though." The cameraman pointed out. "It's like she didn't know."

The lady agreed with him. "What do you think?" He added.

"About what?"

"You know! About the audition thing." The lady only sighed and furrowed her eyebrows. "I think it's unfair."

"I think the girl is a spoiled brat." The cameraman retorted. "I mean come on, not bothering to know about this? That's a rich assholes move."

"Max!" The girl gave a small punch to his arm with her shoulder. "Haven't you learned yet? Don't judge a book by it's cover."

"Yeah but there's a difference between a book and a human."

"Why you little-"

He stopped listening at that point. He frowned from the new information. No auditions for the Lady Bella role? But didn't they promise the whole world they'd do it? He grumbled.

He opened up his phone again and opened his chrome. Immediately searching for the name of the new Lady Bella.

Y/n Antoinette daughter of Mary Antoinette has been casted for the role of Lady Bella.

Although it has been confirmed by reporters that no auditions have been set for the role, which left many people angry, Y/n has yet to respond to this controversy.

We could only hope that she is as talented as the Wu Chang brothers say she is.

His frown became deeper than before as he scoffed. Bitter thoughts about the girl consumed his mind as a form of distraction from his never ending grief.

'quite unfair if you ask me...' he thought. He looked at his phone once again, checking to see if he had to go yet.

"20 more minutes..." He mumbled to himself. Yes, twenty more minutes and he'll go to the theater.

                                                  __

You had a habit of talking to yourself when you think no one is around.

You've been alone most of your childhood. Your mother, as much as she would've liked to spend time with you, couldn't always be there due to her work. And the maids and butlers your house had were always way too older than you with much better things to do than playing tea time.

So your imagination tended to run wild when you were alone, imagining your favorites characters from a show or making up original ones and talking to them like they were real.

It was crazy sure. But it was fun and exciting for you as a kid.

And so, here you are. Never losing the habit even though you've grown up.

You tried your best to keep silent as you walked down the beautiful park. And yet, you could feel the urge bubble up inside you and get bigger and bigger as minutes pass by.

Suddenly, you found a tree in front of your path, with the prettiest views of the park.

On pure instincts, you made your way to the tree and sat on it. And as soon as your palms felt the grass beneath you, you started speaking.

"I... I'm just so stressed...what if I fail?" Joseph's ears perked up at the sudden sound. He took a little glance behind him and notice a figure sitting on the other side of the tree. "What if I'm not as great as they think I am?!" Their voice became more and more high pitched as they continued, as if they was holding themselves back from screaming out of pure frustration.

They didn't seem to notice that he was leaning on the other side of the tree. He felt a confused look get etched on his face by her words.

"If I fail everybody's going to hate me- I'll never have a chance to prove myself!" They cried out. Feeling the negativity curse through their veins like it was nothing.

Joseph felt sympathy for the person. A sudden idea popped in his head. Maybe...he can comfort them in some way?...

He cleared his throat and Y/n froze. Suddenly realizing that she wasn't alone. Before she could say anything, the voice started to speak. "It seems like you don't have much confidence in yourself.." they spoke in a calm tone, making her feel a bit at ease. "If you keep thinking something bad will happen, it will come true." They stated. "So we have to believe that good things will happen in life, and if they don't, that's fine! We'll learn from it and create better days than them."

"So, my advice is to believe in yourself. If you have passion for what you're doing and work hard enough for it, you'll make it."

Y/n was at a loss for words. She didn't know how to respond but somehow, their words comforted her. "I.....Thank you?..." She was unsure of what to think at this point.

Joseph hummed in reply, a small smile forming on his lips.

And they sat there in silence, looking at the pretty peony flowers around them.

____flower language!____

Generally, peonies are known to symbolize prosperity, good luck, love and honor.

____A/N___

Ahh new fanfic!! ♡(> ਊ <)♡

This fanfic is a collab fanfic between me and NaionjiNaikol  from wattpad!

What did you think of this chapter?? Did you like it??? (• ▽ •;)

I'll see you all in the next chapter!! Bye!! (~￣³￣)~

[sif-the-tsunami]

When I Was His Wife

“Well I was looking forward to/ staying here forever/ ‘cause you asked me to/ Didn’t think I could do better/ So I settled down/ in this ten cent town/ it’s about to break me.” These are the Best Years of my Life- Pistol Annies

This is the follow up to “When You Fall Apart” Which is one of my favorites that I’ve written.

(there is Sy just carrying the weight of all of my own internal chaos)

A/N thank you for everyone who encouraged me to write this, I adore Sy as a character. He seemed like someone who could pull off the impossible. I made some choices in here that not everyone will agree with. Tell me I’m wrong in the comments an we can discuss it there.

Pairing: Sy and Josephine

Warnings: again all of them. discussion of infidelity, Discussion of child loss, discussion of unprotected sexual intercourse, headbutting, day drinking, self medicating, therapy, swearing fealty on ones hunting knife, discussion of knife play, I’m probably missing something

 Everything is going below the cut this time to save anyone who doesn’t like this kind of stuff from unpleasantness.

word count just shy of 7.5K

Thank you to @inlovewithhisblueeyes for letting me bounce ideas off of you, love you sweet girl

tagging: @oddsnendsfanfics @willkatfanfromasia @rocket44 @feralrunaway @littlewrenofrivia​  @summersong69​  @coffeebooksandfandom​ @klaine-92​ @nothingright​ @cavillsim​ @watery-lane​ @above-average-ass-bitch 

unbeta’d

I slept for the next two days, Mama only woke me up long enough to drink some water once she started worrying about me. She managed to wrangle my out of my clothes and into one of Daddy’s shirts we got him that she left in the drawer. My phone was dead, but thankfully Mama and I had the same kind so I could charge it today. What fresh hell was going to be waiting for me on my digital leash? I lay there for a while, the murmur of conversation in the other room was comforting. Mama left a fresh glass of water some time recently, it was still chilly with only a little condensation forming around the sides. The ache in my chest was almost unbearable. The hole in my heart was Syverson sized, being sober made the edges of that abyss feel even more raw and pronounced. I don’t know if my liver could handle me drowning my sorrow much more, but I would give anything to not feel it. I need to make this feeling of worthlessness go away.

When I finally decided to rejoin the land of the living, Mama and my brother Teddy were talking at the kitchen table, discussing about if they should come with me to go get my things or if I should call the sheriff’s office to be monitored. I stayed behind the corner long enough to let them finish what they were going on about.

“If I know Jo well enough, she’s going to need someone to keep her from burning the whole house down with him in it tied to a chair,” my brother chuckled. “She’s been taking care of herself for years. You should have seen how she handled one of these girls who came up to us once on Post.

“Jo was loading up the car when this prissy little thing came walking up, she must have thought she was some kind of hot shit. You would have been so proud of her Mama, the girl said to her that she had been sleeping with James during their deployment. All Jo said back to her was ‘You’ve both been back for something like three months, right, have you seen him since?’ Little Miss Hot Shit stuttered and said ‘Well not yet,’ like she had been really holding out that he was going to. ‘He doesn’t have my new phone number.’ Jo just tiled her head to the side. Smiled at her real sweetly and told her, ‘Baby girl, he’s not going to. He knows how to find you. You were just a rental car to him, sweetie bell. Ford Fiestas are fun as hell to ride but let’s be honest, you aren’t going to pick a Fiesta over the Mercedes Benz you have at home. You aren’t the first and you sure as hell won’t be the last, now go on and get out of here before I ruin the rest of your day like you tried to ruin mine.’ One of the other officer’s wives came up to her and said she was amazed that she handled her so well without breaking Miss Prissy Pant’s face. She just said ‘I’m too pretty to go to prison, Kathy.’ And we hoped in the car. You raised one tough lady, Mama.”

“How many times has that happened, Theodore, I need to know.”

“She has only told me about four women meeting her face to face. The two pregnant girls who got knocked up to get out of their deployments, Prissy Pants, and one who thought that James was in love with her. She evidently broke down in tears on the tarmac when Josie jumped into his arms and he swung her around. But she would get letters tucked into the windshield of her car for months whenever he returned from deployment.”

“You two kept this from me for years, why?”

“Jo said that this was her problem, don’t you remember how you handled it when her first boyfriend ran out on her on prom night? She cried to you and Dad, and you just told her that no one is worth weeping over. She’s just been trying to make you proud, Mama. Daddy might have known because I know they had a really nasty fight about a month before he died.”

I walked out after that. Mama’s eyes were red, “Good morning, baby, do you want pancakes? Bacon and eggs? What do you want, Darlin’?”

“Coffee would be a good start.” I rasped. “Can I use your charger?”

“It’s right here. Cream and sugar?”

“Black as my sense of humor, please Mama.” I said, Teddy chuckled again. I reached over and squeezed my brother’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I got to look after my little sissy.” He replied using what he called me growing up. “So what are we doing to get over Jimmy?”

“I was thinking tattoos and day drinking?”

“Atta’ girl, Josie. Fuck that douche canoe.”

As soon as my phone was able to turn on, it sat on the counter vibrating for the next five minutes.  Six missed calls from James. And seventy text messages. A few from stores I shop at, but the majority were from my husband.

“Ugh, I just don’t feel like dealing with this right now.” I said as my mom put my coffee in front of me.

“Just leave him on read. I doubt he’s hurting for company.”  Mama said, in almost a snarl. I looked through a few messages. The last one was from this morning. Sweetheart, I’m worried sick about you, I miss you. Please talk to me?

“Ted, do you want to go with me to Walmart so I can get a couple day’s worth of clothes, I am just not ready to go back and I can’t live in Daddy’s old shirts.”

“Of course, we can get some booze while we are there.”

“Get yourself a bathing suit while you are there, honey, its going to be beautiful today and you can go for a swim.” Mama added.

I texted James back finally as I finished my coffee. I’m sorry I worried you, Sy, I have literally been asleep since I got here. I’m not ready.

I understand. I’m sorry, I should have seen how much I’ve been hurting you. I swear to God, I really do love you. Please, let me know what I can do for you.

Yeah, you should have, James. You should have seen how bad you’ve been treating me. You can drop off the face of the earth, that’s what you can do for me, I think spitefully. Thankfully, Mama washed my yoga pants and tank top. It would have to be alright for now. My brother let me wear one of his extra flannel shirts he kept in the back of his car. An hour later, Ted and I were at the store, picking up chips, dip, and cheap champagne. Mama loved mimosas, so I thought it was the least I could do. I grabbed a couple of sun dresses and a bikini, if I was going to be gone for a few days, I was going to come back home looking refreshed, radiant even, and not like the hot pile of garbage I was feeling like. I made a small detour to the cosmetics department, got myself a couple of face masks, hair dye, and sun screen.

“Really? Dark brown, Josie?”

“That’s as close to my natural color as I can, I’m tired of the blonde highlights. I think after this I might just let it come in. Grays and all. Who ever loves me next is going to have to just deal with me as nature intended.”

“I’m proud of you. Do you think you will leave him for good?” He said, Ted has always been very protective of me.

“Well, I certainly can’t leave him for evil, can I?” Making him laugh. One the way outside there was a truck near the front of the store with a sign that read “Puppies for sale.”

“Teddy, we need to see these puppies.” I gasped. Walking up to the truck bed I saw the sweetest little German Shepard puppies. I reached in and they all started flopping all over the place trying to get pets and love. Maybe a puppy was exactly what my hurting heart needed. We haven’t had a dog since Aika passed away. It was looking like I would never have a baby but maybe this was the kind I needed. Puppy snuggles would definitely make that Syverson shaped hole less painful.

“I’ll buy you a puppy if you divorce James.” Ted said to me, half joking.

“Shit, I can afford the puppy, pay for the divorce.” I jest back. “How much for one of the precious babies?”

“$500 a pup, mom has a pedigree, but daddy was the neighbor’s sneaky bastard.” The woman also petting the puppies said. “Mama is in the front if you want to meet her, daddy is very friendly as well.”

I start laughing uncontrollably. With tears in my eyes, I ask if any of the puppies are girls, and she pulls   out a beautiful little one with floppy ears and the biggest smile I had ever seen on a dog. Oh yeah, she was meant for me.

“I’ll take her, do you take checks?” I think I’m ready to start healing.

*****

“Josephine, that son of a bitch you call your husband is here to see you.” Mama shouts from the house. It’s Sunday afternoon now, Teddy and I have exhausted all the snacks and mimosas hours ago and now we were sobering up by the pool. My new baby girl is laying next to my sun chair, chewing on her bone, wearing a pretty pink collar.

“Well, might as well let him out here.” I shout back.

“Are you sure, I can kick his ass to the curb if you want me to, baby.”

“Its okay Mama, I can handle him myself.” Sy walks out in the back yard a couple minutes later. I’m guessing Mama threatened to stick him in a meat grinder.

“I deserved that.” He said, looking thoroughly admonished. “You changed your hair, it looks really good...

“Oh bless your heart, James. That’s not even half of what you deserve.” Ted spoke up before he could finish, not moving his face towards him. He lay there in his swim trunks and dark sunglasses.

“Oh great, all three of you have been drinking. I can tell this is going to go well...” James sighed. “Who is this cutie pie, did your Ma get a new dog?”

“She’s my dog, her name is Stella Rosa.”

“I don’t think anyone asked you to come, Colonel Sanders, what are you doing here?” Ted snapped.

“Hey, I got this, okay? I’m a big girl, please, go in the house. The fuck are you doing here James?” I lift my sun glasses up.

“She’s a very sweet pup. Yeah, you are a good girl for your mama, aren’t you? I came to see you. I want to bring you home, baby, I miss you.” He’s checking out my fresh tan in my new bikini. Subtly, but he does it.

“I’m not ready. I’m not even ready to talk to you. Why would you think that I even want to come home?”

“I don’t know, I asked myself that the entire drive here. I don’t know what I’m even going to do with myself when I go home alone. Pussycat, I can’t begin to think of life without you. I know I fucked up. And I know I can’t take that back. You asked me the other day what I kept that was special just between us. I should have answered you then. All those nights where you fell asleep with your head on my chest, the evenings laying in the back of the truck looking at the stars after driving around trying to find the best nachos in town. And, baby, no matter where we go, yours are always the best. No one else ever got moments like that. You are the only woman I want to slow dance with in the middle of the night.

“You are the only person in the world that I would wait four hours in the freezing cold to get the best brisket in Austin for because you were craving bbq when we were still, you know...” He paused. I don’t think he ever stopped blaming himself for what happened. His knees were never the same after that accident, and usually whenever he stood up from kneeling, they clicked and popped painfully. He leaned a little closer spreading his legs and reached down to pet Stella. She seemed a little leery of him. It is easy to be cynical given the circumstances, but there is something about the way he is talking to me, I haven’t heard him be this earnest in years.

“When was the last time you were with someone other than me?” I can’t bring myself to look at him. I keep my eyes anywhere but on him. My body aches so badly for him to just wrap his arms around me. I miss him.

“When I got held up in Kuwait for two weeks in December...”

“December? You mean when you missed my fucking birthday. Goddammit James...” And the ache is gone. My heart shattered again. He’s going to make me cry again.

“Hey, it was after your birthday, and it was a hate fuck because I was mad that I broke yet another promise to you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” I snap. “How many that deployment?”

“Just the one. And she’s someone who I knew was more discreet because we had that arrangement before.”

“I swear on my Daddy’s grave that if you are lying to me right now, I will end you Syverson. You couldn’t have waited a few more days?”

“I had no idea when I was going home. We boarded that fucking plane three times and had to turn back because there was a problem with it. I was two seconds away from tearing apart the first Private that so much as looked at me sideways. It felt like, at the time, the less terrible choice.”

“They sound both pretty shitty to me. You are a fucking adult James, you have to be able to control yourself or at least be responsible for your actions. If this is what you think love is, I would rather you hate me.” I stand up. Stella wags her tail excited to get away.

“Josephine, please...” He grasps my wrist, not hard, but there wasn’t anyway I was going to be able to get out of his big hand.

“Please what? Please stay so you can keep treating me like this. There are some people in this world who have no problem playing second or third fiddle, they are just thankful they are in the band. But I deserve to be your first chair, or I don’t want to play at all.”

“Mama wants to know if the jackass is staying for dinner.” Ted shouts at us.

“He going!” “I’m staying!” we yell over each other. He’s not looking at me, he’s not even looking at the pup. His eyes are somewhere else, mentally for a second he is somewhere else also.

“Baby…  I… You have always been my first chair. There is no one else on earth like you. I have never done anything with these women as an act of love. It was always been, and I mean always, just a way to scratch an itch. Every time I was gone, every time things got bad, getting to come home to you was the thing that keep me going, Jo. You have been my safe harbor for the worst parts of my life.”

“James… That doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. You aren’t the man I fell for anymore. This isn’t healthy.” He let go of my wrist, and rubs his face. Those beautiful eyes of his have seen so much. For the first time I think he actually looks… broken. Is this the remorse I have been wanting to see? I try not to keep scores, especially when it comes to my loved ones. But for the first time since things went sour, he looks like I hurt him as much as he has hurt me.

Maybe there was love between us once. However there are just two broken hearts for now.

“Come on in the house, I can at least feed you before I send you back.”

“I think I will just go,” he says it quietly. “I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“Don’t be like that, I am still cooking like I’m making dinner for you, so its way too much for the three of us. Come on in, I made carnitas.”

“I’ll be in, I just need a minute.” He refuses to let me see him cry if he’s not waking up screaming, even after all this time. Whenever we could have a healing moment, he pushes me out. I went inside, and started setting the table.

“Are we poisoning his tacos?” Teddy asked me.

“That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard today.” Mama interjected.

“No, and don’t start anything. He’s eating dinner with us, don’t either of you make him feel bad. I already did that.” Sy walked in at that moment, those blue eyes of his rimmed with red. He looked defeated. The four of us ate our dinner in silence. There was a time where he would have made some kind of comment about eating me out when we had tacos. He looked at me once during the meal, I think he remembered it too. He offered to clear the plates when were all done and sat in uncomfortable silence. The cockiness I had grown accustomed to over the years was gone.

He carried himself like this when we lost our baby, he can’t take that kind of humility. At least not with me.

“Sy...” I waited until the others were out of the room. “Do you still want me to come home with you?”

“Not if it means all we are going to do is get a divorce. I can’t see you every day knowing that I will never get to be yours again. I let them do a lot of terrible things to me over the years, but that… that I can’t handle.” His voice cracked. “If you want out, I will give you everything you ask for. I won’t fight you. But please, give me a chance to fight for you.”

“I don’t think you are exactly in a position to make that that request.” I lean against the counter across the room from him.

“No, I’m not.” he half smirked, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Look, I’m not saying that this can’t still all explode in our faces. But I miss my best friend and that has always been the best part of us. It will never be the same as it was before, it can’t be. However, if you are willing to work with me, I am willing to see if we there is any salvageable. If nothing else, we both need therapy very badly. We can’t just shrug this off. The second that it goes back to where we were, I’m gone.”

“Okay. I’ll do it.” He sniffs hard, and his breath is broken up, tucking his arms against himself. Usually its in authority, this time hes just trying to hug himself. I gesture him to come over and I hug him. He wraps his arms around then envelopes me. Leaning his head on mine, he whispers “I’ll do whatever you want, my darlin.”

I told my mom that I would be going home, she sighed at me. “Do you think this is the best idea?”

“I don’t know, Mama. I think I just want some closure. I told him if he so much as sneezes out of line that I’m gone. Forever. There will be no more chances.”

“Well, baby, I trust you. You are always welcome back here if you need to get away.”

While I’m packing my stuff into the shopping bags I had, I hear a sudden crack and Sy groans then swears. “yeah, I deserved that too.”

“What the fuck did you just do, Theodore?” I yell coming out. Ted was still holding my husband’s hand, and Sy was holding his face. “Did you… just headbutt him?”

“Yes, I did. My sister my might be willing to move past your mistakes, but I’m not. However, I’ve always been the petty one in the family. Hurt her again, they will have to dig your nuts out of your chest cavity, do we understand each other?”

“Yep, perfectly.” Sy grimaced. There were very few men that he would not retaliate against. Teddy, at 6’5, and years of horse wrangling, was one of them. Sy was build like a brick shit house, but so was my big brother. I thought we were old enough to not resort to violence, I have been wrong before.

My probably, potentially, soon to be ex-husband put mine and Stella’s things in the back bench of his truck. I held her in the crook of my arm as I climbed up in the cab. He gently shut the door for me, I noticed his shiner was going to be pretty gnarly in the morning.

He climbed into the other side as I set little Stella down on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was a cheap shot, I’ll be fine. At this point, I don’t want to rock the boat with your brother and Ma. She tore me a new asshole before I got outside today.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t changed your mind, say to hell with me and that I’m not worth the hassle.”

“Josephine, I might not have made the appropriate effort to show you how much you mean to me, but you are worth it.” The Syverson shaped hole in my heart roared. Why couldn’t he have been this way all along?

We talked about the girl at the movies, and how she was one of his new officers. She might have come on to him, but he never engaged with her outside of work related things. He told her several times that he wasn’t interested but she was persistent. I halfway apologized for trying to decapitate him with a tequila bottle. He acknowledged that this was a long time coming.  This was the most we had talked about anything deep for months. I don’t know if it was too little and too late though.

The rest of the drive home we made a plan of action. He would move into the office and would stay in there until I invited him back into my bed. We would start couple’s therapy as soon as we could. He would also start seeing a therapist individually. Before we got into town I also told him my final request for our reconciliation. I wanted to see other people. I had been with him since I was nineteen, I have never faltered in my devotion to him. I wanted to see if he was really the one for me.

When I got home, I poured out the rest of my alcohol, save for a bottle of champagne I was saving for our anniversary. He took Stella outside to go potty and came back singing her name “Stella bella, who is a good girl? Your Mama picks good puppies, yes she does. Good girl, Stella bella.”

Stella came prancing back to me with her tail wagging happily. He walked up behind me, and grazes the backs of my arms gently with his knuckles, leaning down to kiss my neck. “Not yet, Sy. I don’t want us to complicate things more than they already are.”

“Josie, what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you until we start therapy.”

“So you want us to stop having sex, sleep in separate rooms and at some point you want to start seeing other men.” He starts nodding. He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. “Okay, it that’s what you want to do. I was thinking about getting my stuff out of the bedroom so I can try to get some sleep. I love you, Pussycat. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, James went to bed. He was snoring on the couch in the office by the time I went to go lay down.      

****

It took us three weeks to get into see a couples therapist. It felt a little validating about my decision that we shouldn’t sleep together until we have really decided to try or not. She had me stay behind and talk with her for another half an hour the first time we met.  She asked me why I wanted to save my marriage with Sy if he’s hurt me for years.

“I don’t rightly know,” I told her. “Maybe its because when we are good we are so damn good. Before we were married, I was warned, I knew that things happened overseas and I shouldn’t take it personally, he’s just a man and not a saint. I never have had a doubt in my mind about if he’s been faithful when he’s been here until recently when a woman he knows started acting weird around me. The love we had was so passionate, like sometimes he thought that if he couldn’t put his hands on me I would disappear. I don’t think I will ever find someone who can love me like that again.”

The therapist suggested that he starts getting treated for PTSD and anger management while we all were working together. I would also have my own separate sessions to work on my own issues. It took a few months but I started seeing small differences in how he was handling things at work that pissed him off. He was able to defuse himself more easily. He became more open with his feelings. I think it helped that we both stopped drinking. We could be a little volatile when we had a pitcher (or three) of margaritas.

There were days with our sessions where we leave emotionally exhausted and not speak to each other the rest of the day, some of them ended in peals of laughter, others where I would cry for most of it. We discussed the infidelity at great lengths. I don’t want to rehash the details but it was definitely one of the bad days. But it seems that the root cause was him using the only the other women for comfort after fairly traumatic events. It’s why it only happened on deployments. He needed to feel something other than pain.

The lack sexual intimacy between the two of us made James start to get creative to initiate closeness between the two of us. He started helping me make dinner on the weekends, or he would bring me my coffee in the morning the way I like it. Mama and Teddy started coming over occasionally for suppers. It was nice to have the house filled with laughter. We started talking again like when we first started dating. He would take the time to go with me grocery shopping.

He started asking me out on dates again. Myself, him and Stella would drive out to the country, with a picnic basket that he would even prepare himself and we would go star gazing like we used to. I loved seeing the effort, but that hole still ached in my chest the whole time. The pieces should have all fit together, but here I was still not sure I could commit to him for the rest of my life.

On one of these dates, he asked me what I thought about him retiring. He had been in for almost nineteen years at this point and had far exceeded is expectations for being in the Army as an officer.

“I kind of just want to sell off all our extra shit and buy a really nice Air-stream. We can pull it with my truck. Just travel up and down the continent, I know you always have wanted to see the Northern Lights, we can just go anywhere. Me, you and Stella would visit where ever we could find a parking spot.”

“That sounds nice, Sy.” It came out a little half hearted.

“You don’t sound convinced, sweetheart.” He said, started sounding concerned.

“Hun, I don’t want to have a fight right now, so please just let me get this off my chest.” I sigh. And then I told him about the pain in my chest that I’ve had since my night in jail. That sometimes, like tonight, it was only a dull ache. That other times the edges are still so sharp that it feels like the pain was going to swallow me whole. He sits up, jaw dropped.

“Why haven’t you told me this before? I… Jo… son of a bitch.” He groans. He lays back down, the same defeated tone came back that I hadn’t heard since Mama’s house. “I’m trying my best, Josephine, but I feel like I have one hand tied behind my back… you will never love me again, will you?  I can grovel, and beg. I don’t know what else I need to do. I know what I want to do, but it will just hurt you more.”

“What do you want to do, Sy?”

“I want to kiss every part of your skin, remind your body that I worship it. I want to pin you to the wall of our hallway and make love to you. I want to go to sleep with my nose buried in in your hair, and wake up sliding inside of you. I have since you came home. Hell, I always want to do that with you. But that can’t be the only thing that keeps us together.” He looked over at Stella sprawl out.

“I didn’t say this to hurt you, hun. I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“I know, I… just don’t want to cause you more misery. I really thought we were, you know, heading back in the right direction.”

“We have been, and honestly, I think if we threw in the towel now, it would cause more harm than good.” I say as the tears well up in my eyes. For the first time since I was taken away, I straddle his hips. He sits up and I place my hands on either side of his face, then lean in to kiss him. He kisses me back with the same hunger. I missed him. The ache dulled a little until he pulled away.

“Let’s get going, Jo, I want you so fucking bad. I want to take you here and now, I want to make you scream my name and damn anyone who catches us. We need to stop this, the agreement was that we wouldn’t. Fuck I’ve missed how you taste.” He said before stealing one more kiss.

*****

The next week was awkward to say the least, the therapist was pleased about the kissing and that I opened up. She said that it was possible that the pain would go away, but that he and I needed to remember that it was like I was grieving. In the mean time, we should continue to take it slowly because we both needed to be sure. The following few days he was distant, and the ache returned in full force.

With his PTSD treatments, he was having less nightmares. It was the best thing I could ask for. There were still times where he would yell in his sleep but they had become farther and farther apart. It was a night after he had his individual treatment, he had come home talking about how he felt the night of my breakdown. He came home and told me a little bit, how he had never seen me so angry before, thrashing about like a caged animal. He hated himself for pushing me there. That night, in the darkness of the small hours, I woke up from being dead asleep hearing him say my name in a panic. He then repeated sounding more and more scared. “Josie, oh my god, Josie, no. I’m sorry Jo, I didn’t mean to. JoJo!”

I rushed into the office, he was jerking violently in his sleep about on the couch. I turned on the light near his head. When these dreams happen, his eyes were usually opened, it creeps my out every time. I start to gently wake him up, saying his name and touching him as gently as possible. It took a few moments but he came back to me.

“Jo, Jesus fuck, you’re alright?”

“Of course I am, sweetheart, what happened? I’m right here, I’m okay, you are okay, everything is okay.”

“I dreamed we were back in the kitchen, you were under me. Screaming and whipping about. I had to restrain you more then I accidentally broke your neck and you died in my arms. It felt real, baby, I was holding your body and then the sheriff came and that’s when you woke me up. Oh my god. I fucking can’t. I can’t anymore. I need you, Josie. If something happens to you, oh fuck.” I have never seen James sob like this. He pawed at me until I was wrapped in his arms. I slipped my arms around his neck and held his head to mine. His sobs were hard. We sat there until he let it all out.

“Come on, big man, let’s get you into bed. Come with me. I’ll stay with you all night.” He nodded at me and followed me to the bed we used to share. I wrapped him up in our fluffy blankets. He snuggled into me and was asleep in moments. I stayed there in his arms until he woke up. The Syverson shaped hole hurt less that night.

When he woke up he started crying again. He held me and started kissing my face. “Thank god. I thought you coming to me last night was another dream.”

“No baby, I’m here.” He sniffed hard and squeezed me closer to him. We went back to sleep for a few more hours and when we got up for the day he moved his things back into our bedroom. We might not have started other marital acts but we both started sleeping better having the other person in bed. It had been almost six months we started trying to reconcile.

*****

It had been an interesting couple of months while we started the transition for him to retire. Soon it was only a matter of days. The dates had continued, the kissing had continued, but something was keeping me back from being able to say that the next step was what I wanted. Therapy continued, and we would be seeing her for the next few months. Before I left my private session she asked me if I had given myself a deadline. She was concerned that I might keep dragging it out and that would just make both of us miserable. I told her I had an idea and that I planned on pulling the trigger soon.

Sy’s superiors were setting up a retirement ceremony for him, followed by a dinner with the upper chain of command. He wasn’t looking forward to it, Sy just wanted to be out and done. He came home one day while I was watching a show based on a book series I had read when we first were married. The redheaded Scot swore fealty to his wife, offering to pierce his own heart with a dagger if he should ever rebel against her again.  

“What’s this you’re watching?” He asked.

“Outlander, it just picked back up again from a season break. It’s pretty damn close to the book.”

“So is this what the ladies like these days, men in kilts offering to off themselves if they fuck up?”

“Women have liked men in kilts since I can remember. Why do you think we go to the Renn Faire every year.” I wink at him. “But yeah, I’m sure that does it for some people.”

“Well shit, Pussycat, it’s the only thing I haven’t done.” Sy walked out of the room and came back with his favorite hunting knife. It had been his dad’s once upon a time. The handle was made out of buck horn. In his warn and dusty uniform, he knelt in front of me on the living room floor. His beautiful blue eyes looking into mine, “Well, this isn’t iron, and it definitely isn’t holy. However, I will swear on it either way. Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved, you are my best friend, and I adore you. I will never do anything to make you doubt that love or loyalty again. If I ever do anything that makes you feel like you are less than the beautiful, smart, incredible, sexy creature that you are, you can sink this right in my heart. I will even hold it there for you so all you have to do is press it right in.” He finishes with a tongue click as an exclamation.      

“James, you didn’t need to do this. You know I am weird about grand gestures.”

“No, I think I do. I said my vows to you on our wedding rings and I wasn’t able to keep it. But, I will never break this one. If I can earn your love back, I will never do anything to make you regret giving me this chance to be your man.” He still held the knife against his chest with one hand, and placed my hand over his with the other. “So what do you think, baby girl? We still have a long way to go, but I can’t think of anyone else I would rather struggle with.”

“I think you just put yourself in a position that I could just end you now if I wanted to.” I say with my usual sass.

“Yes, you could. I don’t think you will though.” He said smiling, his voice was husky and deep as usual. I love that easy smile of his.

“Is it wrong that I want to get on your lap and make out with you while I hold this against you.” His eyebrow raised. “Maybe more than just make out with you.”

“Oh, don’t you tease me now, sweet thing. I don’t want to start anything you won’t finish.”

“Who said I won’t finish it, Colonel Syverson?” His eyes grew as big as dinner plates.  

“Wait, do you mean it?” He choked.

“Yeah, I do mean it.” I laughed. Before I could get up, he had hiked the skirt of the dress I was wearing up to my hips, pulling me to the edge of the sofa, revealing that I had skipped a certain garment that day. “I had an idea for after supper, but if you want we can do this now…. Oh fuck I’ve missed this.”

Before I can even finish my sentence, he was going to town with his tongue on his favorite part of my body. He remembered everything that made me squeal in delight. From the lack of sex on both of our ends, he was able to get me off easily. My body was desperate for his touch. He stopped once my body was trembling, kissing one of my thighs from my apex to my knee. He suddenly grunted and bit down on a tender part. He started panting and kissed the spot he bit.

“I’m sorry, sugar, I didn’t want to only last for two or three thrusts. Fuck, I have missed this pretty pussy. You taste so good.” He had a handful of his own cum and looked around for a tissue. Without a word, I grabbed his hand and licked it clean, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. He moaned out and then stood up. He took his shirt off, and lifted me up off the couch. I knew this hurt his back and knees but I wasn’t about to chastise him for wanting to be romantic. He carried me like we were on our honeymoon back to the bedroom. He lay me down as gently as possible then finished stripping himself. I took my dress off leaving myself exposed to him in a way that I haven’t in almost a year. Sy joined me on the bed, open and vulnerable to me. I loved those thick thighs and torso of his, he always eclipsed me.

“Hello ladies, nice to finally see you again.” He purred as he licked and sucked on my nipples. He leaned to one side and massaged my breasts with one of his hands. “Glad to see you that you missed me too.”

Before long, I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. He spread my legs and rubbed himself against my opening. He leaned down and kissed my neck before sliding himself inside of me. I moan his name as he gently started making love to me. Bearing his weight on his elbows, he kissed and nipped at my neck.

Breathlessly, he told me how much he missed my body, how much he loved me, how lucky he was to have me. As his tempo increased, he started to whisper in me ear.

“Josephine, tell me what you are.” I looked at him confused. “You are my wife, I want you to tell me that you are my wife.”

“I’m your wife, James.” I tell him as lovingly as possible.

“Louder, baby.”

“I’m your wife.” I said loud and clearly. The Syverson shaped hole in my chest is gone, finally. Replaced with the warmth of knowing we were going to be able to survive this.

“Even louder, Jo.” I yell it out and he thrusts harder and deeper. “Keep going, beautiful, I want the whole neighborhood to know.”

I screamed it as he started pounding me harder, building his orgasm. As my own starts its crescendo, I screamed his name and arched my back as he pulls my hips down on himself and spilled into me. He lay down beside me, twitching and jerking a little. He kisses all the parts of my skin that is available to his reach.

“I think we should order a pizza for dinner tonight,” He says after a few minutes of catching his breath. “So we can stay in bed and make love again.”

“Or, and hear me out. I put my dress back on, you get dressed and we go out for sushi with your cum dripping down my thighs. What do you think about that?”

“Shit, I missed you being a damn freak like that. Do I we get to have more fun tonight if I say yes?” He chuckles, then kisses my hand, “I still want you to ride me with my knife pointed at me some time tonight.”  

“Aren’t you scared I’m going to cut off a nipple or something.”

“You, with a knife? To be honest, cutting off my nipple is the least of my concerns. How do I know if this just isn’t a whole plan to lure me into complacency with sex and sushi, then you just murder me in my sleep.” He rolled onto his back and whined for a second, but got up. He put on a pair of khaki shorts and a black Metallica t-shirt as I got into my dress again.

“God damn woman, you are so fucking sexy.” He tells me as he opens the door on my side of the truck and leans down to kiss me again. As I climb up he give my butt a little tap just like he used to and closes the door for me. The ache I’ve been feeling these long months has subsided. Sitting across the cab from me, holding my hand, he asks if we want to go look at travel trailers this weekend. For the first time in a while, I feel like everything is going to be alright.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

willow

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: part two of cardigan, hope you enjoy xx

CARDIGAN - INVISIBLE STRING

     - I’m not going to work wearing this. - Y/N stepped out of her bedroom in the dress Pietro had brought her. When he told her he had a black dress laying around she thought he meant maybe the sort of dress you’d wear for a first date, not what she had on at this moment. The dress was short, very short, barely hitting her mid thigh in a fashion that made her have to push her dress down every time she walked in fear she would be flashing someone yet that wasn’t the worse part, no, the worse par was the décolletage. It was plunging, hitting the end of her sternum leaving little to no imagination about the shape and size of her breasts. 

     - Well hello Y/N’s breasts. - he joked, receiving a slap in the back of his head from his twin sister. - I’m sorry, Y/N. They’re staring at me, I had to say something. 

    -  What kind of dates are you having? - Wanda asked dumbfounded as she started to search for a safety pin to help mend the situation and make it look a bit more work appropriate. Walking up to her, she pinned two sections of the fabric, successfully diminishing the size of the décolletage.  - It looks ... nice.

    - Is he going to kill me if I show up like this to work? - she pointed at the whole ensemble which was very foreign to her. She was cold and uncomfortable and although the bar tended itself to be very warm once the lights were on, she was already plenty uncomfortable working there. The two twins shared a look that she could only described as “I have no idea” which did little to no good in aiding her nerves. With nothing else to do, she grabbed her worn out bag from the hanger and waved her goodbyes to the twins. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. 

It’s just a dress, Y/N. She told herself as she padded the cobblestone grounds that led into the town centre, the dreaded town centre where she was needed to work. At least you have some cute shoes, she reassured herself, looking at her plain black Mary Janes with a buckle which made the shoe extra snug. Adding to the nerves of her dress, she kept convincing herself today she would get some information for her father, even if it was Bucky’s shoe size. It didn’t matter, she was going to get some information and make her father proud.

As she stepped into the bar, she noted the absence of Bobby. Probably it was her due turn to open shop which she wouldn’t mind would it not be for the fact she could barely move in that dress. Nevertheless, she quickly got to work, wiping the surfaces clean and placing the plastic menus on them followed by a few bowls of peanuts which Bobby always told her to keep her eyes on and not let go empty. The whole thing took less than five minutes and as she finished, she leaned against the counter watching the inside of the building. Everything was so meticulously placed, arranged in shades that matched. It was perfectly linear, symmetrical even and probably the work of a perfectionist architecture. It was peaceful when no one was around but that emptiness was soon interrupted by the door being open and in stepped the notorious Mr. Barnes.

Y/N pushed her dress straight, trying not to look professional and somewhat invisible so that he wouldn’t stare her in the eye. That tactic immediately failed as once the door shut behind him and his pristine suit, his head turned to the bar. 

    - What are you doing behind the bar? - his hands stood against his hips, touching the holster where a very shiny revolver laid, a warning sign not to mess with him.

   - I’m opening. 

   - You’re waitressing today. 

   - I’m not a waitress. - he slightly widened his eyes, taking a step forward, grin on his face. He leaned against the counter, finger under his chin. 

   - You are today. 

   - I don’t know how to wait on people. 

   - You don’t know how to bartend them either now step behind that bar and go grab a tray. - he barked the orders at her but Y/N remained still. No, absolutely not, she was not going to wait around in the tightest, shortest dress created by man.

   - I would rather ... I would rather not, sir. - she pulled at the front of her dress, eyes moving from his inspecting and scaring gaze. 

   - I didn’t ask you what you would rather. You have five seconds.

Y/N didn’t like being scolded by anyone, specially by a man like him but the shiny revolver on his hip made her act more sensibly and as such she shyly stepped behind the bar, stopping a few meters away from him. His gaze followed her legs, from her hips to her toes and he himself took a step back. 

   - You could’ve told me you didn’t have a dress. 

   - I have a dress. - she put her hands on her waist, defensively. - What do you think I am wearing?

   - I was hoping you would tell me. 

   - Can I just bartend today, Mr. Barnes? Please.

   - Absolutely not. 

She wanted to argue with him, she really did, she thought she could change his mind but yet again she wasn’t stupid enough to argue with him and as such, she walked slowly to the back of the bar to grab one of the sticky metal trays. Fantastic, she went from having a counter separating her from everyone to suddenly being in the middle of them. The lights were on, the music was loud and suddenly every table was putting their hands up for her to come take their orders. 

Now Y/N had done several things she wasn’t a fan of and seen even more than stomach churning evidence from her time at university but walking back and forward in the damned was officially the worse thing to have come out of her early 20s and as she leaned against the bar to cool off and take a break, someone was yelling her name for more drinks. She had officially become “Hey you” rather than Y/N. Mid shift she had decided to start hiding away from most tables, getting lost in the middle of the crowd dancing which was proving to be effective until the table she could not ignore raised their hands. James Barnes’ table. Why he was in a table surrounded by other men when he usually stood safely in his back office she didn’t know but what she did know was that whatever they were talking about was surely something her father would like to know. So, with a smile in her very tired face, she made her way towards the table. 

James Barnes sat with two other men who were equally as intimidating than he was yet there was no question as to who held the most power. Holding the tray on her left hand she waited to be shouted the orders through the music. 

   - Hey, you’re new! - the blonde man sat to James’ left pointed at her, smile on his face which immediately dissolved whatever sort of intimidating nature used to decorate his features. - I didn’t know we had a new waitress. 

   - We don’t. - James corrected, not even turning to look at her. - Y/N is on the floor tonight to cover for someone. She’s usually a lousy bartender. 

   - Can I get a beer? The coldest one you can find, please. - the other man sat next to James asked, charming smile on. - Steve will have the same. James ...

   - Glenlivet, I know. - Y/N interjected, forgetting for a second of who she was dealing with. As she remembered, she immediately walked away from the table to go grab the orders before they took her hostage. 

   - Two cold beers and a Glenlivet on the rocks please Bobby. 

   - The floor’s giving you a rough time, kid? - he placed two beers on her tray and turned around to grab the precious 1862 Glenlivet only Mr. Barnes was allowed to drink for. In Y/N’s opinion, it was a weird drink older than both her and him together yet she guessed owning old scotch made him somehow powerful. 

   - Dress’ giving me a rough time. - she gave him an exasperated smile before taking her tray back to the table, placing it into the centre. James still didn’t meet her eye, instead grabbing the coloured liquid and downing it as if it was water in a manner which even surprised the two men accompanying him. - Can I get you anything else? 

  - No, thank you. - Steve, or at least she guessed was his name, replied handing her a folded black leathered cover. Y/N took it, not ready to make any questions before returning to the bar. Once there, she opened the cover to reveal at least 300 pounds. Did they want more drinks? Did she mishear the song again as a drink order?

  - Nice tip, kid. - Bobby peaked at the money she was holding. - Rogers and Wilson always tip well.

  - This is a tip? I get to keep this? - she looked dumfounded at the money on her hand which was enough to pay her half the rent and she had just made in less than a minute.

  - All waitresses get to keep their tips. Did you not know?

  - No, I thought people wanted more drinks.

  - You’re adorable, kid. If you don’t tip your waitress here, you get kicked out. Barnes doesn’t like cheapskates in his club, ruins the image. 

  - Oh ... I ... can you keep it while I finish my job?

  - Just put it with your things.

She placed the money safely with her bag and returned to the dance floor. Surely they were gonna ask her for something, no one just gave 300 pounds as if it were nothing and didn’t expect something. Nothing is free in life, her father had told her and she whole heartily believed him yet there were 300 pounds more to her name in less than one minute so she wondered if maybe some things were for free. Nevertheless, Y/N continued with her shift plan by hiding in the middle on the dance floor and every so often peaking out to serve some tables. As she exited the dance floor, someone pulled her in and she hit what she thought was someone’s chest, hands holding her hip in place.

   - Get off me. - she tried to walk forward, but she was pulled back once more. Turning around she grabbed her tray with both hands and hit whoever was holding her and trying to grind on her over the head. The man blinked slowly, hand resting on his head and she repeated her motions. - I said take your hand off me, RIGHT NOW!

  - Hey, what’s wrong here? - of course. The man must have hidden mics arounds the dance floor so he can sense when someone isn’t adhering to their strict patterns of conduct. 

  - He was grinding on me. - Y/N kicked her way fully of the man’s embrace. She thought it’d be best to put her defence forward first before she got to be the second person to have their head smashed against the counter. 

   - I don’t have the time for this. Steve, get him off here. - he motioned to the blonde who came up from behind. She hanged onto her tray as if it were her life source, expecting whatever punishment was coming her way. - And you go back to the bar and stay there. 

Y/N wanted to feel sorry for the poor soul who was being pulled out of the club for Steve yet all she could feel was grateful for the fact she no longer had to stay on the floor. The rest of the night was uneventful, all she could hear them talk about was some exchange yet nothing else of importance to her, or something which would create a breakthrough in the case. Soon the monotonous voice came through the speakers, warning people of the imminent end of the night. 

Everyday was the same thing. She would go into the club, collect whatever breadcrumb information she could get from her father and return them to the police. Everyday she would come in, prepare the same drinks, ignore the same comments and for a month all she could get was nothing but the fact that Barnes, Wilson and Rogers constantly spoke about a trade taking place later on the year which as good as nothing but it was something strong enough to keep her undercover. Today was no different, she had come in a few hours early, it was only a mid shift and she wanted to set things the way she liked when Mr. Barnes came stumbling into the bar, holding his hand against his forehead, red liquid running down his pale hand. 

  - Where the fuck is Bobby? - he barked, pulling a chair with his foot to sit down. 

  - He’s on holiday. - she spoke calmly but her heart was beating against her ribcage like a drum as her shaking hands grabbed the first aid kit from under the bar and rushed over to him. Whoever had the guts to cause a wound to the mob boss would surely be okay with following him in and that was all she could think about. Nevertheless, she was a nurse in training, she should be calm. She wasn’t calm. - Can I see?

  - Don’t you have something to do?

  - Let me help, please. - her touch was soft, softer than any touch he’d ever felt as her hand laid upon his, slightly yet effortlessly pushing his hand away from the gash close to his hairline. Her lips tightened as her finger pushed some of the hair away from the wound, it wasn’t bad. It was deep but not deep enough it would require any immediate stitching, some cleaning and maybe butterfly band-aids and he’d be able to go back to intimidating people. - I’m going to clean it and then I’ll bandage the wound. It might sting, please don’t shoot me if it does.

  - Is that what you think I do? - he furrowed his eyebrow, forgetting about the wound just above it as she rummaged through their first aid kit for something that would suffice in disinfecting his wound as she was sure health, safety and cleaning procedures weren’t something a mobster would consider when picking their weapon of choice. - You think I shot people just because they hurt me?

  - That’s what I’ve heard. - she shrugged it off as if they were having a casual conversation, as if he had asked her if she enjoyed the weather. She heard rumours, several of them coming from Wanda, Pietro and other people she surrounded herself with and while she would’ve discredited them in any other situation, she had her father’s confirmation that one does not mess with James Barnes and comes back whole. - Big bad mob boss … it’s what they show in mobster books and movies.

  - Trust me petal, if I hurt someone they’ve had it coming. - he leaned upon his own shoulder inspecting her. - Besides, I don’t do the dirty work.

  - Enlighten me, then. - she loosened up. Make the patient comfortable was always rule number one as her lecturers and superiors would tell her and although the man in front of her was the furthest thing from someone who’d become comfortable with someone, what she was doing would eventually sting and she’d rather have him happy than upset. James grabbed the salt and pepper sets laying on top of the table, pulling the salt to lay in front of every other container.

  - In your regular mob you have an hierarchy. - he moved the salt and pepper around in almost chess-like manner. - You have your boss, your underboss, capo, consigliere and soldiers. Soldiers do the dirty work, they do the shooting.

  - What do you do then? - she cocked an eyebrow at him, drenching the cotton round in the alcohol filled liquid which always made her feel slightly sick.

  - I’m the boss, petal. Your question should be what the other’s do.

  - Okay, I bite. - she got closer to him, hand resting on the side of his face as she started to dab the dried and wet blood away from his wound.  - What do the others do?

  - The underboss is … I guess what you could call a vice-president. They make decisions but ultimately answer to me, not that Steve listens to me anyway. Your consigliere is impartial, he comes in whenever you need an impartial decision either between capos or families. Your capos are the heads of their own families and have their sort of hierarchy, they are the lieutenants and can be or not be related to the boss and finally you got your soldiers, they do the dirty work. Although, I must say that sometimes I do enjoy applying the punishment.

  - So Steve’s your underboss… - she continued to clean the wound, waiting for the moment he would hiss and throw her away but he remained still, comfortable even. - Is Sam one of your soldiers?

  - Sam’s a consigliere and a damned good one although he is a pain. - she went back to her sit, putting the cotton round in the bin and grabbing some bandaids. - But I know about it, why don’t you tell me about you?

  - Bobby said you run a background check on everyone. I don’t think I would be much surprising. - much of her profile was real yes, but most important details have been altered so he wouldn’t suspect her or wonder why the Capitan’s daughter was applying for a position in his bar.

  - What do you fear most in life?

  - Why would you ask me that?

  - If you know people’s fears, you’re normally in control of them. Fear controls everyone, if you control their fears, you control them.

  - Do you wanna control me, Mr. Barnes? Is that it? - she had a little smile gracing her features as she bandaged both sides of the wound together.

James wondered what she was smiling about. People like to believe they’re uncontrollable or if they’re controllable that only themselves hold that people yet Y/N just seemed to mindlessly agree with that control, something which her actions forcibly went against. Nevertheless, she still had this peaceful smile on as she finished patching him up. 

   - You’re all ready. 

   - Thanks. - his voice rumbled in a tone low enough it could be considered both menacing and thankful at the same time. Nevertheless, this was probably the first time she had heard him say thanks to anyone. - What are you doing here anyway? Phoenix covers over Bobby’s shifts when he’s on holiday and you don’t start in five hours at least.

    - Oh ... my flatmate is going on a date with this guy and she wants to bring him home so I have to finish early to check into the motel near campus. They said they only check in people until midnight. I asked Phoenix and he said it was okay.

   - What motel near campus? The Love Locket?

   - Yes, it’s close to university and I have class at 8AM so I can’t go anywhere further. 

   - That’s where you take your prostitute or mistress not where you spend a night.

    - Thank you for the warning, I guess? - she shrugged. Of course she knew that, she would even hear some of the younger students bolster about how they brought their one night stands there but if it made Wanda happy, Y/N would sleep on the street if necessary.

   - You’re not staying at the Love Locket, Y/N. You’ll get robbed or kidnapped.

   - I don’t have anything precious or valuable enough to get stolen and if someone kidnapped me they would soon get bored of me. I’ve been called the human equivalent of vanilla ice cream before. 

   - You’re not staying there, that’s final. I’m not in the mood to hire another lousy bartender if you go missing.

   - Where do you suggest I stay then? - she packed the supplies onto the small blue box, walking up to behind bar to put it back. 

  - Don’t you have any other friends?

  - Her twin brother is keen on having company every night too and I wouldn’t want to be asked to join it or even listen to it.

  - You can stay with me tonight. Next time have arrangements done.

  - I’m not staying with you.

She didn’t mean for it to sound ungrateful, she would never want to be ungrateful but she also knew not to go into the house of strangers although her father would probably tell her too. How funny, normally a father would do the opposite but being in the mob boss’ house had their own perks. Surely he would keep some sort of valuables, information maybe contact numbers of bottom feeders who’d be willing to collaborate for a chance to put their boss behind bars and gain his spot. Anything. Yet Y/N’s most forceful and convincing side was telling her no. It wasn’t she was particular untrusting of him, after all he had been nothing but civil with her for the past days and would always drive her home. She guessed if he wanted to kill her, he would’ve done it already but every single day her heart weighed heavy with the thought of him discovering her lie and putting an end to her life.

  - I might not know what you fear the most, but I do know what you fear. 

He strolled from the table to the counter, hands buried in the pockets of his tailored trousers. Y/N looked at him through her eyelashes, hands behind her own back as he took the revolver off his holster and placed it on the counter.

  - You are really afraid I’m going to kill you. Aren’t you, petal?

  - It’s not an absurd fear, Mr. Barnes. 

  - Have you ever seen me kill someone?

  - No.

  - Have I ever threatened you?

  - No.

  - Have I put you in danger?

  - No.

  - Then it is an absurd fear, petal. - he slide his gun off the counter, returning it to its usual place near his hip. - Come find me after you’re done with your shift. Don’t cause any trouble.

  - Yes, Mr. Barnes. - she had soon learned there was no use in saying no to him. He got his way all the time, he was used to getting his way so she wondered why she even contested him. 

The shift was the same as per usual yet all she could think about what spending the night at a mob boss’ house. She had messaged her father during her break and he was ecstatic, telling her to take photos and videos and collect whatever she could find of use. In all honesty, Y/N had expected him to tell her to be safe but instead it was just a lead. She was scared, she was so scared that all of this was a veil of comfort he was casting over her to make sure she was a dumb little sheep walking into his trap. She begged for the clock to turn back as it hit 11PM and Phoenix told her it was okay to go. 

She held her purse against her chest, pulling onto the leather strap as she moved through the dance floor and into the VIP area where Mr. Barnes was chatting with Steve who smiled once he saw her.

  - Hey Y/N. Waiting on us tonight?

  - No ... I’m just here for Mr. Barnes. - she played with the hem of her bag, cheeks hot as she thought of the implications her word might have.

  - Is your shift over already? - he placed his half empty glass on the table and got up, hand holding his jacket. She nodded hesitantly, she was going to be fine, she was going to be fine. - Alright, then.

  - Well, it was nice to see you, Y/N. We’ll speak about this later, Buck. 

  - Let’s go. - he put his hand on her back, driving her through the sea of people kissing, dancing and drinking. He wondered if that what she liked to do on her free time, if she was like the girls who came up here on the weekends and Fridays looking for a good time yet she seemed to shut everything out. 

As they got deeper into the back of the club, she felt him drape something soft and warm over her. Looking to her left she recognised the fabric of her old cardigan, the one she had left in the same car she was now entering. The driver was mostly silent, Y/N mostly looking for the comfort given to her by the old garment while he kept his wild eyes on the road. 

The drive was a short one, stopping at a high building of thirteen floors if the elevator was to be believed. Despite being surrounded by luxury, her eyes were gazing the gun to his hip. She knew he had other weapons, she knew he kept a knife hidden and other guns with him but this one seemed to taunt her, as if she knew she was walking into her own trap.

    - Stop. - he hooked his finger under her chin, pushing her face upwards. - I don’t stain my home with blood. 

    - I’m sorry.

    - Stop that too. 

    - Stop what?

    - Apologising. You walk as if you’re apologising to the world for your existence. No one’s gonna take you seriously if you don’t take yourself seriously. 

    - It’s funny a man is asking me to stop apologising when it’s your own institution who taught me and my gender to apologise for merely existing. 

    - You have an edge to you. You should use more often. 

    - I don’t have an edge, I’m definitely not the type of person you think I am.

    - You’re definitely the type of person I think you are, petal. - he strutted into his home as the lift door’s open.

It was wide, spacious, modern, in shades of white and grey. Nothing like the stuffy, old rooms she saw in movies or the drug den picture he father painted when speaking about the mob’s place of living. No, this was a modern design, with glass hardware and marbled surfaces which belonged in a cover of a design magazine. It was pristinely clean; after all, a man of his calibre could possibly hire a maid for whenever he needed to get rid of blood but blood stains and his white carpets and blankets were spotless. She wondered if she should trust his words but that thought escaped her mind as she noticed the glass set of chess laying perfectly arranged on the coffee table in the middle of two black couches. 

   - You play? - he asked, noticing her gaze on the board. 

   - My dad only had a chess board while I was growing up. I’d like to think it was my first friend. 

   - None of my associates play. Probably the reason why they’re associates and not the boss. - he sat in one of the couches, pointing at the other one for her to sit in. 

   - Do you chose a boss by their ability at playing chess?

   - Play with me. - he placed both elbows on the table, hands folded under his chin. 

James Barnes was a brilliant player, she had to admit and he too knew it himself. The previous boss had taught him the game, sitting him down and making him win a match against him for the chance to eventually win his spot whenever his demise came.

   - You see petal, everyone thinks chess is about planning ahead. - he took another one of her white pieces, putting it on his side. - I don’t discount that, but it’s really about intimidation. You can be the best player in the world, at the end of the day if you can’t intimidate someone, you’re not gonna win.

   - Do you think I’m intimidating?

   - Why do you ask?

   - Because ... - she moved her king placing it to the right and down of her white queen, successfully trapping the black king. - Checkmate

I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans ...

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell​ 

[prioritysope]

Letters

Reader: Female

Character: Bokuto Koutaro

Rating: Angst

Chapter: 13/13

read chapter one first!

The whole place was surprisingly busy. The entire Bokuto family was there, along with your family and close friends. The atmosphere was tense and nostalgic. Every face was full of sadness and others were trying to hide the pain.

They were at the activity they did for the second anniversary of your death, but something worse had happened. Bokuto committed suicide the same day that was the second anniversary of your passing. December 25th. Both families decided to do the activity together, in order to say goodbye properly.

The news of Bokuto's suicide was surprising, nobody expected that. Everyone thought that after the first try and the therapies, he would be fine. He seemed fine, but it turns out he was a good actor. Every person in the place wonders: What was he thinking at that moment?

For many the decision that Bokuto made was that of a total coward and that he did not know how to face everything. However, someone should never be called a coward for making such a decision. The simple act of making such a decision was because he accumulated too much courage, because that is not something so lightly.

At the back of the funeral home were Akaashi, Kuroo, Konoha, Hinata, and the rest of the teams. Some friends close to (Y/N). Everyone still did not believe it at all, they were in complete shock. How was it possible that their so cheerful friend was no longer with them?

"It all feels so unreal." Kuroo whispered, he felt a lump in his throat, but he didn't want anyone to see him cry. He preferred to cry all day in his room.

Out of all of them the only one who was crying shamelessly was Hinata and Akaashi. Even Keiji blamed himself a bit.

"I should have been more for him, this is my fault." He mumbled through tears as (Y/N)'s younger sister comforted him on the floor.

"Akaashi-san, this is not your fault. To all of us he seemed to be happy and we fell for that, and we didn't see that he was really suffering. He was even able to silently ask for help and we didn't realize it." Now Tsukishima spoke, who was leaning against the wall.

Everyone looked somewhat surprised by the words of the blonde, since he was never to say something in such sad moments. He has always been to give a simple hug and that's it. Regardless, Bokuto was important to him. Even though they only interacted in practice in Tokyo.

"Kageyama-kun, do you want to go to the cafeteria? I can't stay long in a place so full of sad people." Hinata whispered into the black haired boy's ear, who just nodded and followed him into the cafeteria.

"Guys, it's goodbye time." Now Bokuto's mother approached, who was with a puffy face, red eyes as her husband hugged her. "Akaashi, can you speak right?"

Keiji looked at her somewhat doubtfully, but he knew that was something Koutaro wanted him to do and he wouldn't let him down. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his hoodie before getting up, helping little Sarah along the way.

------

A coffin. Three photos, one of Bokuto alone, another of Y/N, and the third is the last photo they both took. Hugged tightly, kissing with both laughing between the kiss. Everyone was inside the great room, listening to the last words directed towards her son, with her husband still hugging her so she could be aware that she does not pass out or something similar.

In the background you could hear the instrumental of A Thousand Years by Christina Perri, one of which Bokuto put on his playlist.

Right next to the coffin was a box with all the letters that Koutaro made for a whole year. For Mrs. Bokuto, that was clear evidence that her son was happy thanks to (Y/N) and that she was the reason for her happiness when he was alive.

"... I'm sure of something at the moment," She had been talking for a long time. About the childhood, adolescence and adulthood of her precious son. For her, Bokuto was everything to stay alive. He was her driving force, along with her husband. "I know (Y / N) is taking care of our favorite ace. And now they are both in total peace. Now, goodbye to both of you. We will love and miss you forever, and I know that you will take care of us from there." She finished, breaking down a bit and hugging her husband tightly as they stepped down from the little makeshift stage.

The place was full of little laughs at the anecdotes and tears.

Now it was Akaashi's turn. It's sad to know that two years ago, it was Bokuto who was speaking to (Y/N) and now it was him speaking for his best friend. He felt a pressure in his chest, in addition to the urge to continue crying as the tears threatened to come out. He took the stage, standing in front of the microphone. Many eyes were on him, which made him feel somewhat pressured of what he should say.

"... God, I don't know what to say right now. There are so many things I have in mind to say to Bokuto-san, that now I feel they are insufficient. I will miss his mood swings and how much he thought to help him, even though I ended up calling to (Y/N)-san for help. It was all a roller coaster ride. "He paused to sigh heavily, running his right hand through his silky black hair, thus continuing. "I remember deciding to join Fukurodani Academy when I watched a game and seeing the way Bokuto played and how lively he was, it made me want to come in and be his setter. And I did for two years. Kind of funny, can you believe it? That Bokuto-san was two months wondering whether to ask out to (Y/N)? It was quite funny and stressful because she would tell me how much she liked him and vice versa. Until one day I couldn't bear it and brought them together to leave them alone. " The room was filled with laughter at the last thing Akaashi said.

Akaashi turned to face the coffin. He put both hands there as he looked at each photo on the wall. Everything was full of flowers.

"Goodbye, Bokuto-san. I hope you find the happiness you deserve. I know you will be fine with (Y/N) -san. I will miss you guys very much and the boys too." He finished as little tears ran down his cheeks and he went to his seat.

------

Everything was beautiful. Flowers of different colors, trees of all kinds and the singing of birds. Bokuto paced around the place, while he hummed a random song. He felt strangely happy and complete in that moment. As if everything had disappeared like the wind. He walked a long way until he reached the end of it, he saw a beautiful girl who became known to him and did not hesitate to approach. Slowly, of course, so as not to scare her into hitting him. He wanted with all his being that she was the girl of his life.

When he was behind her, he didn't think more and touched her shoulder to get his attention. She turned around and her eyes widened in surprise at the spiky-haired boy.

"Bokuto? Baby?" Her voice was still soft and delicate. "You found me!" She didn't wait any longer and hugged him as tightly as she could.

Bokuto's eyes widened as he felt the touch of the love of his life. However, she did not wait to return the hug strongly and the tears did not take long to come out.

"I found you. God, I have you again." She whispered against her neck, still not releasing her.Everything seemed like a dream to both of them and they did not want to wake up.

"You found me, and now it will be forever, Bo." She answered, separating a little from him and with both hands she took the boy by the cheeks, thus leaving a soft and short kiss on the lips that she missed so much. "I love you."

"I love you so much, (y/n). Since you have no idea." It was the last thing Bokuto said before kissing her while loving her. Hands were on (Y/N) small waist.

[kalaluchi]

chapter 05: Jagged Stone

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Marinette was confused.

How could two people go from comfortable banter to awkward silence in a span of two days? She’d heard of going from 0 to 100 real quick, but she’d never thought it’d happen to her.

More accurately -- to her and Adrien.

She stared at the back of his head, wondering where she’d gone wrong, as Mme. Bustier droned on with her lesson.

Marinette had really thought she’d finally gotten over the shy-awkward-start phase after the whole movie “date” last Friday. (She still wasn’t sure if that had been meant as an actual date, or as a chill friend hangout. And frankly, she was too scared to ask.)

But then the weekend came and they’d barely talked. (Though she’d been secretly hoping for a random good morning from him or something -- even just once.) She’d been busy baking and cramming assignments and random projects, and just like that the weekend was over.

It was now Monday, and she was sad to think all her efforts to become closer had gone down the drain. They’d exchanged greetings as she made her way to her seat that morning, but it was now 2 periods after lunch, and he hadn’t spoken to her at all. There weren’t even any of the corny memes he used to send when they were both bored in class.

Not that he’d been ignoring her, though. It just seemed like… he’d forgotten about her or had nothing more to say to her.

She probably could have reached out herself… but every time she was about to approach him, she felt like she was walking on eggshells. One wrong step, one wrong word, and something would crack.

She groaned, painfully aware that she was probably overthinking things too much. She checked her phone for the 10th time that period -- no new messages.

Marinette let out a sigh.

One apparently much louder than she’d intended.

“Anything to share with the class, Marinette?” Mme. Bustier’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She bit her lip, her ears red. “No, Mme. Bustier. Sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed.

She thought it was absolutely worth it though, because just then Adrien offered her a small smile in sympathy before turning back to face the front. So there was hope for them yet.

She sat back in her seat, deep in thought again. On impulse, she leaned forward and tapped Adrien’s shoulder while Mme. Bustier was facing the blackboard.

“Do you, uh, can I borrow a pen?” Marinette whispered in his ear.

If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought Adrien was blushing slightly from the sudden interaction. “Here you go,” he replied in the same quiet voice.

Her fingers tingled when they brushed his during the exchange, but she thanked him anyway. She really had no intention of using the pen (she’d never leave home without her beloved pencil case, with all the colorful pens and markers, please) so she decided to wait until class ended to return it and use it as an excuse to start a conversation.

Brilliant! This must be what Alya feels when she comes up with one of her schemes.

.

.

.

An hour later, as Adrien began packing his bag to go home, Marinette tapped him on the shoulder nervously. Her brilliant-a-period-ago plan was starting to not feel brilliant at all.

Nevertheless, she held out the pen to him, smiling. “Thanks for lending me this a while ago. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled easily. “No problem. You looked like you needed some life-saving,” he joked.

Marinette couldn’t help but scoff at that. “I can save myself, thanks,” she muttered, in a tone sharper than she intended.

“Of course,” the blond backtracked hastily. “I didn’t mean to assume, I just--”

“Is… that a Jagged wallpaper?” Marinette asked suddenly, immediately forgetting the earlier offense.

“Uh, yeah. You listen to Jagged Stone?”

“Listen to Jagged? Get out, I practically breathe Jagged! Wow, I can’t believe he didn’t come up once in our conversations…”

“Well, I… didn’t really peg you to be a Jagged girl, honestly. No offense, though, I really don’t know why it didn’t occur to me. I mean, now it seems obvious. You’re nearly as cool as him.”

“Shut up,” Marinette laughed, waving away the compliment. “No one is as cool as Jagged. And it’s okay, I didn’t peg you to be a Jagged fan either.”

“You’re kidding. How could I not? A great singer, and a great player too. Piano, guitar, you name it! Heck, I bet he could even play, like, a lyre or something.”

Marinette scrunched her nose and raised an eyebrow. “A liar and a player at once? Can’t say that’s exactly my type. I’ve met too many of those, thanks.”

Red spots bloomed in Adrien’s cheeks as he sputtered, “No, I’m not-- that’s not what I--”

“I’m joking,” she interrupted, honestly surprised at his reaction. So annoyingly endearing.

“Oh.” Adrien sighed in relief, as Marinette bit back a smile.

There was an awkward pause as she thought of what else to add.

She had just opened her mouth when Adrien blurted, “There’s actually a Jagged show tomorrow.”

“Yeah, part of the Jagged Worldwide tour, right? I’ve got my room all set up with 3 flavors of popcorn to eat while I stream it.”

“Actually,” Adrien said somewhat nervously, “I may or may not have an extra ticket to the show, thanks to the Agreste brand and all.”

“Get out,” Marinette deadpanned, in shock.

(Adrien noted that that was the second time she’d said that in the last five minutes, and chuckled internally. How cute.)

“So, you wanna go?”

There it was again. That… awkward is-this-a-friend-thing situation. Marinette’s conscience told her no, don’t fall for his trap! He definitely only sees you as a friend, you’ll just get hurt if you hope for more! Which, true… but then again. This was Jagged. How could she say no?

“I’m in.” She beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet. Even though the concert was on a school night, she was fairly sure her parents would let her go once they found out it was another ‘date’ with Adrien.

“Hey, Nino! Marinette said she’s game to come with us to the concert tomorrow,” Adrien called over his shoulder at his best friend.

“Sweet! See you there, my dude! I’ll pass the news on to Alya.” He gave a last wave before leaving.

Ah. So definitely not a date. At least she was aware.

Unless… a double date? Marinette groaned inwardly. Why did things have to be so complicated? She could almost feel the headache she was going to get from all this. (Especially now knowing that Alya would be involved.)

.

.

.

Marinette had never seen so many people in her life.

If she thought her bakery’s end-of-the-month sales were insanely crowded, that was nothing compared to the mass of people at the concert grounds, tightly packed and eagerly awaiting the arrival of their favorite singer.

As usual, something went wrong right off the bat. Their little group of four had gathered outside the grounds at 4:30pm sharp, but it hadn’t even been five minutes since they’d entered and already Alya and Nino were nowhere to be seen.

Marinette panicked immediately, obviously, frantically searching for the telltale brown-red-tipped hair of her best friend.

Adrien calmed her down immediately, saying that the lovebirds probably wanted to ‘spend some alone time together.’

Had Marinette been in a normal state of mind, she might’ve noticed that this practically reeked of another of Alya’s schemes. As it is, she simply allowed herself to be led by the blond-haired boy.

“Let’s go this way so we’re closer to the stage,” Adrien said gently, steering her one way. “Here, you can… hold my hand so we don’t get separated,” he added softly, taking her hand in his.

Soft. She was surprised to find that his hands were smooth and uncalloused. Well… she didn’t know what she had expected, but she thought they were absolutely fine as they were.

They finally made their way to the front as the singer stepped onto the stage to an eruption of cheers. She had to bite back a pout as Adrien dropped her hand to clap his own. She was about to suggest they link hands for the entirety of the concert, but all thoughts disappeared once the music started playing. She let herself get lost in the song, letting go of all her fears and doubts just this once, dancing to the tune, jumping to the beat.

A few minutes in, Adrien leaned in close. “I love this song,” he said, speaking directly into her ear to be heard over the crowd’s screams.

“Me too!” she shouted in reply, hoping in her heart it were actually words of endearment he’d said.

Once the first five songs ended, Jagged Stone stepped up to the mic, and a quiet hush spread through the crowd, waiting with bated breath for what he would say.

“I just want to thank everyone here for coming,” he started, pausing when the crowd roared their approval. He laughed heartily. “Never in my life would I imagine I’d be getting crowds like this, especially right here in Paris. Not many people know this, but I didn’t always like the name Jagged Stone. I mean, as is, it’s really nothing, right? It is what it is: a stone that is jagged. That means cut different from the rest, sort of sharp around the edges, prone to hurting others. Who would want that, right? Growing up, I was told I’d probably amount to nothing, so maybe I should choose a safer, more secure path. But then-- and here’s the key-- I grew up. And look where I am now.”

Marinette whooped along with the other concert goers, wanting her support to be evident.

“See, that’s the thing,”Jagged continued, on a roll. “These things take time. I came to love the name Jagged Stone. Because over the years, stones that are jagged smoothen around the edges. They become toned, weathered. They become the kind of precious stone you see being used in jewelry, maybe. Suddenly they’re something beautiful, valuable. Meaningful. Are they different from what they were before? Of course. But are they still themselves? Absolutely. Was that greatness there all along, right from the start? Without a doubt.

So to everyone out there: don’t rush it. Everything moves at its own pace. You may seem sharp around the edges, but that’s just how we are. Other people might not know how to approach those edges, afraid of getting hurt. But give it time. The ride will smoothen out. I want you to remember that there is already something valuable in each of you, even at this very moment. It’ll just take time for you to get used to that something, to hone it into the best version of you.

And speaking of time, I’d like to thank you all for the time you’ve given to be here! With that I’ll be performing my last song of the concert, my brand new single: Miraculous!”

.

.

.

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Ten minutes later, Adrien and Marinette had navigated their way out of the thick of the crowd, and were making their way to the meet-up spot as previously discussed.

“Definitely,” Marinette agreed, taking a bite of the cotton candy she’d bought. “That speech before the last song? That was my favorite part.”

“Really? He played six songs and not one of them classifies as your favorite part?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Marinette scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Stop judging. It just… hit close to home, I guess.”

“Oh… Well, uh, I don’t really know any of the context, but you do know you’re pretty amazing, right? As you are right now.”

Marinette took another bite to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said meekly, unsure of how else to respond.

“There you are!” a voice called. Marinette suddenly found herself enveloped in a tight hug. “I can’t believe we got separated right at the start! Nino here wouldn’t even let me go look for you because we’d found a great spot, he said.”

“Hey!” her boyfriend protested. “You were the one who said let the two lov-- oof, did you have to step on me foot?”

“Oops, accident,” Alya said lightly. “So anyway, how did you two find the concert?”

“It was fun,” Marinette replied softly, wrapping her arms around her best friend’s waist.

“Yeah? Something interesting happen?”

Marinette laughed. “No, I guess not. It was just… I don’t know, it seemed pretty--”

“-- miraculous,” Adrien finished, and they all had to agree.

As they headed back, Marinette reflected that maybe it wasn’t so bad she’d been treading on eggshells just the other day. Maybe her relationship with Adrien was just like what Jagged had said in his speech. At the moment rough at the edges, either party cautious of how to proceed in fear of hurting the other or getting hurt. And that was okay.

Because eventually, it would smoothen out.

And eventually, maybe, just maybe, it would bloom into something beautiful-- something hopefully more than friendship.

All they really needed was time.

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[vampiregirl1797]

When You Need a Shoulder to Sleep On

Spencer Reid x Wife Reader

 GIF Not Mine

 Summary: When you return back to work as a profiler with the BAU after being gone for maternity leave, the job is harder than it used to be, being as you’re functioning on little to no sleep and no caffeine. Lucky for you, you have your wonderful husband, Spencer, and your family at the BAU to support you.

 Word Count: 2,642

 Click Here For Masterlist

 It had been fourteen months since I’d had a cup of coffee. While I’d been pregnant, ironically enough I hadn’t noticed the absence of the heavenly hot beverage. But now I was returning to work and functioning on less than three hours sleep? Yeah, I was exhausted. Spencer, my wonderful, loving husband and doting father, bless his soul, had even less sleep. He tended to sleep light anyway, and since the baby had arrived he’s been a little... protective. So it was routine for us both to attend to little baby Gideon Derek together, as neither of us were able to think about sleep until we knew the baby was back down.

 The difference of course was that I was functioning with no caffeinated stimulants to keep my brain working, while Spencer was on his third cup of heavenly goodness since we’d arrived at the Bureau. Which of course meant that I was barely functioning at all.

‘Denise Hernandez was found murdered in her apartment a week ago. She was discovered by her landlord three days later when he went to check on her, after another tenant had voiced their concern.’ Garcia said, the beeping of her pressing the buttons on her beepy echoing throughout the room, ‘there were no signs of sexual assault and the body was in her bed and she was tucked in underneath her own duvet.’

 I blinked, trying to force some energy into my body as I flipped open the file in front of me, detailing the murder Garcia was narrating.

 ‘The unsub wrapped her in plastic underneath the covers to prevent her blood from sleeping through the fabric.’ I voiced aloud as I read it in the report, ‘that indicates that the way he leaves her behind is important to him.’

 ‘That’s true, before the covers were removed she looks asleep.’ Rossi agreed, flicking through the photographs in his own file.

 ‘If that’s the case it’s interesting he doesn’t chose a less gruesome method of murder. If the charade of the victim appearing asleep is so important to him, why go through the trouble of stabbing her twelve times?’ Tara added, taking a sip of her coffee after she spoke.

 I tried not to stare too longingly at the mug, despite knowing that a cup would jolt the energy back into my system.

 ‘If she didn’t live alone I’d suggest it’s done by way of giving him more time before the murder is discovered. It would be a while before anyone realized she was asleep.’ I said, looking over to the enhanced crime scene photos on the screen. There was something bothering me about the whole picture, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

 ‘But since she did live alone it’s more likely that the manner he’s displayed her, as well as the method he’s employed, are both important to him.’ Spencer said, his lips pursed in thought as his eyes quickly moved over the pages in his hand.

 The amount of information his beautiful brain could take in, in such little time, still blew me away after all these years. I’d never get tired of his incredible mind, whether it be the facts he knew and eagerly shared, or the way he excitedly took in new information. He was amazing and so sexy.

 ‘Have there been any other victims?’ Derek asked, his eyes moving from the file in front of him to the colorfully dressed blonde.

 ‘Yes. Danielle Richmond was discovered in her apartment this morning. She lives alone and according to the M.E. She died yesterday, she was discovered quicker than the last victim as she had plans with a friend who called the cops when she didn’t show up or answer her phone.’ She clicked her beeper three more times, bringing up a picture of Danielle and a few pictures from the crime scene.

 ‘They look like they could be twins.’ I noted, both had brown eyes, olive complexions, long brown hair and a slender figure, ‘seems like he has a very specific type in terms of victimology. Either he’s working up to killing someone specific in his life that looks like these women, or someone who looks like her has died and triggered these killings.’

 ‘Those are both things we should keep in mind.’ Prentiss nodded, closing her file, ‘wheels up in ten.’

 //

 ‘There’s something out of place here.’ I murmured, taking a step back with my arms crossed over my chest

 ‘What is it?’ Morgan asked, standing next to me and taking in the room as well.

 ‘I’m not sure...’ I trailed off, my gaze landing on the book next to Danielle’s bed. I walked over and picked it up, reading the title aloud, ‘A book of fairytales. That’s what’s out of place.’

 I pulled out my phone and dialed JJ— her and Alvez were at the other crime scene.

 ‘Hey, Y/N, what’s up?’

 ‘At your crime scene, are their any novels by the bed?’

 ‘Hang on,’ she said, there was some shuffling over the receiver as I handed the book I was holding to Morgan, ‘yeah there’s a copy of fairytales. Oh my god.’

 Morgan opened the book, he brows lifting in surprise before he turned it around. It was a picture of Snow White dead in her see through coffin, but the victims face had been glued over the cartoon features.

 ‘Can you bring your book back to the station? I think I know what he’s doing.’ I sighed, hanging up my phone and sliding it into my back pocket.

 //

 I smiled as I entered the station, telling Morgan that I’d meet him in the briefing room in a minute after I’d been to the bathroom. Of course he knew I was lying, but he must have sympathized with the dark circles under my eyes because he didn’t call me on it.

 I discretely but firmly grasped my husband’s hand and led him down an unpopulated corridor.

 ‘How are you feeling, honey?’ he asked, pulling me close and rubbing my lower back as I practically melted into his chest. I loved that he didn’t have to ask why I’d commandeered him for a moment alone—I assumed he was used to my clingy behaviour and heightened emotional state when I was so exhausted.

 ‘I’m feeling drained, Spence.’ I sighed, nuzzling into the cotton of his cardigan and relaxing even further at the scents that emitted from the fabric—softener, his cologne and a faint trace of mint from the shower he’d taken earlier that morning.

 ‘If you’re too tired, there’s no shame in saying so. Emily, actually everyone, would understand if you needed a quick power nap, honey.’ He kissed my hair, his other hand resting at the bottom of my neck and rubbing the flesh there—he knew I carried a lot of tension in that particular area.

 A soft groan fell from my lips as he kneaded the knots out of my flesh, my bones practically melting as he continued.

 ‘Hmm,’ I murmured, trying to focus, but it was hard when I felt so calm and relaxed to the point of wanting to sleep, ‘no it’s okay, I’m not that bad yet. I promise.’

 It was something we’d talked about before I’d returned from maternity leave—he knew my stubbornness often led to me pushing myself too far before the baby, and now I was running on no sleep it was likely to get worse due to my heightened emotions. He proposed that we come up with a deal—if I ever felt too tired, or like I needed a few hours to recuperate then I had to tell him and not push myself too far.

 This deal had been proposed after I’d been taking care of our precious baby boy for thirty-six hours straight with no sleep. I’d practically been a zombie when Spence came home from a case and when he’d offered to take the baby so I could get some much needed sleep I’d nearly bitten his head off, insisting I could do it. I’d then promptly burst into tears because I’d snapped at my husband when all he was trying to do was help, and because I was so exhausted and all the emotions chose that moment to break free.

 The next day after I’d slept for twelve hours straight, he’d told me it was common for new mothers to feel like they weren’t doing enough and they often felt like they couldn’t ask for help, even from their spouses. The knowledge had soothed me, as had his assurance that I was doing a good job, and that admitting I needed some time for myself was okay. That’s when he’d made me promise to not push it too far, and it now transferred to the field now I was back at work.

 ‘Okay,’ he kissed my hair again and I lifted my head up, my lips pursed for a kiss. I heard him chuckle lightly before he complied, his lips soft and warm against my own. I sighed, the pleasant zing his lips always inspired shooting through me from my head all the way down to my toes.

 ‘I love you, Spencer Reid.’ I told him, the sparkle and adoration in his eyes made my heart expand in my chest—it’d been like that for five years now and I didn’t see it ever dissipating.

 ‘I love you, Y/N Reid.’ He kissed my forehead and we stayed there for a few moments longer, appreciating the quiet tranquility of the moment before we reluctantly agreed to join the team in the briefing room.

 //

 ‘This unsub is replicating fairytales.’ I said as Morgan opened the book we’d bought back from the crime scene and slid it into the middle of the table so everyone could see.

 ‘Danielle was the replication of Snow White. After we discovered this, we also found an apple underneath her bed that had been bitten into. It was bagged for evidence and they’re going to try and pull the teeth imprints, but my guess is it’s going to be a match to the victim.’ I pulled out a chair, scooting close enough to Spencer so that I could smell his cologne.

 ‘Denise’s death is tied to Sleeping Beauty.’ Alvez slid the book he’d bought back next to the other, ‘we found a miniature spindle wheel underneath her bed next to a few drops of what we assume to be the victims blood. We’ve asked the M.E. To see if there are any wounds on Denise’s fingers that look like they could’ve been made on a spindle wheel.’

 ‘Well this is good, in the sense that we can predict what fairytale the unsub is going to replicate next, but it doesn’t help us with identifying the next victim.’ Tara said, looking over to the clear board at the head of the room, which showcased the crime scene and victim’s pictures.

 ‘There has to be something, other than appearance, that these women have in common.’ Alvez commented, twirling his pen between his fingers.

 ‘And you would be correct, newbie.’ I smiled at the nickname— Alvez had been on the team for almost two years now, yet Garcia still called him that, ‘both women were part of a fairytale online reading club.’

 ‘Are there any other women in the club who look like the first two victims?’ Prentiss asked.

 ‘Great minds think alike my dear Emily, pictures and addresses of the three women who share similar appearances have been sent to your tablets.’

 Our iPad’s beeped before she’d even finished her sentence and we all looked at the pictures, noting their characteristics were eerily similar to Danielle and Denise.

 ‘We should contact the women to warn them and assign them each a protective detail.’ Spence said as I observed the pictures with my lips pursed, hoping I’d have a brain wave and be able to pinpoint a connection. The Sheriff left the room to assign that responsibility to some uniform officers.

 ‘We know who he’s likely going after, but we haven’t figured out why or how he’d have a connection to this—.’ I paused a thought echoing through my brain so astoundingly fast that I felt a little light headed, ‘what if the unsub is a partner to one of these girls? And he’s killing them this way because he resents his partner’s love for this and he’s mocking her?’

 ‘That’s a good idea— maybe one of these girls cheated on him and he’s disparaging her idea of a happy ending?’ Tara added.

 ‘Garcia, have any of these three women recently gotten divorced?’ Spence asked.

 ‘Yes, Regina Kingston, the creator of the book club filed for divorce ten days ago. It hasn’t been finalized yet, but the paperwork was finalized and submitted eight days ago.’ Garcia reeled off, her voice coated with realization.

 ‘That’s the stressor.’ Alvez said as we all begun to stand from around the table.

 ‘Garcia,’ Emily started but our I.T genius cut her off and assured us his name and home address had been sent to us already.

 We all geared up, adding our bullet proof vests and making sure our guns were sufficiently loaded, should they be necessary in his capture. I bit back a yawn as we made our way to the cars—now was not the time to not be one hundred percent focused. We had an unsub to detain, and so I slapped my cheeks a few times during the drive, to make sure I was definitely awake.

 //

 Another yawn fell from my mouth; I’d lost count of how many times I’d done so since we’d got on the jet.

 ‘Woah momma, why are you still awake? I thought you would have dropped off as soon as we got on here.’ Derek commented, his signature smile on his face but the concern in his eyes was just as prominent.

 ‘I tried, every time I close my eyes I keep seeing flashes of the things I need to do when I get home.’ I sighed, though a small bright smile formed on my face when my husband took a seat next to me.

 ‘How is little Gideon Derek?’ JJ asked, taking a seat next to Morgan, ‘do you have anymore pictures?’

 I grinned, my face lighting up at the mention of our little bundle of joy, ‘I have around a hundred new ones I took before we left for this case.’

 I handed her my phone and she scrolled through the images, her smile growing at each new one. Morgan couldn’t help joining in after a while, unable to resist pictures of his godson. I’d caught a glimpse of his home background earlier and I was pretty sure it was the picture JJ had taken of Derek holding the baby for the first time at the hospital. He was a big softie, no matter how hard he tried to appear the opposite.

 I was bought out of my thoughts by Spence’s arm wrapping around my shoulders. I cuddled up into his side, eagerly snuggling into his warmth; I took a deep breath, his familiar and comforting scent relaxing me down to my bones. The voices around me became unfocused as I fell further and further into unconsciousness, the endless list of tasks that had been plaguing me before disappearing now that I was in the arms of my husband. I registered was the low vibration of Spence’s voice as he talked to JJ and Morgan, and the feel of his lips as he kissed my hair. The last thought that filtered through my mind before I surrendered to sleep was how lucky I was to have a husband as amazing as Spencer, a son as wonderful as Gideon and a family as incredible as the people that made up the B.A.U.

 A/N: This one came to me after I watched the episode where JJ returns after maternity leave and has trouble staying awake without being able to drink caffeine. I kind of like how it turned out, I hope you did too!

[oneweekoneband]

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages.  (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time. 

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. 

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift,  she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions XIV

Masterlist for other parts, more jercy, crackships and bad ideas

writing fic=more description=(hopefully) improve writing

no prewritten chapters=sporadic updates=as surprised as you about what happens

Tell me your thoughts, I'm insecure about this chapter. Also sorry for the long ass wait I haven’t felt in the writing mood but hopefully I'm back.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

Crown Prince Jason’s dream starts as all his dreams do. Him sitting on a cloud looking over a burning meadow. He feels himself wince as if his body already knows its going to be hurt and then he is pulled under, under, under and suddenly the dream is a memory. One he had forgotten about, one he wishes he'll live through for the rest of his life.

"Prince," A soft, warm voice calls. "Are you in here?"

There is a moment of quiet, the crackling of the fire and the turn of the page the only interruptions.

"I'm here." The reply is gentle, and sweet, and full of the brightest days.

Jason blinks, looks through long blonde lashes. "Hello my Ardor"

Leo sinks into the couch, grabbing his hand with the need to be close and comfortable and together. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I had some things to research before tomorrow meeting with FreedomtoFeed."

The Captain of the Guards raises an eyebrow and gives a pointed look to the raunchy cover of the novel he has clasped in his hands. "That looks very appropriate for a feeding-the-people initiative."

He blushes crimson and shuts the book with a huff of embarrassment. "I finished the research."

Leo pulls them together until their foreheads bump gently, "I'm only teasing. But you should go to sleep."

"Will you join me?"

The fingers dancing at the nape of his neck still, and smoldering brown eyes catch his. "Of course."

They release twin breathes and move impossible closer, until lips brush against skin and oxygen is sparse.

"You are so beautiful," The Prince whispers, kissing his jaw. His cheek. Nose. Throat.

"Please kiss me." Leo is shaking with anticipation, arousal.

And who is Jason to refuse such a precious request? He brushes his lips gently across his Ardor's and groans at the softness he finds. Pillows, and peaches, and sweetness that only intensifies when it deepens. Their tongues dance, explore each other languidly. Like time is nothing but a suggestion. His fingers brush silken warm cheeks and dance across Leo's skin until they're resting on his thighs.

Jason is breathless when he breaks away, "You are—" His words are cut off as the Guard pulls their faces together.

"No talking now my Prince. Tonight we only feel."

Jason feels himself frown, as the memory becomes hazy, disjointed. This wasn't how it happened.

‘Together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.” Leo gasps, his head falling on the Prince's shoulder. "Jase, I can't—" He's cut off by a cry.

And suddenly all his beautiful brown skin is turning to ash under Jason's hands. He tries to grab on to anything, any part of Leo, but the more he holds the more ash comes away.

"Ardor?" He cries. This isn't how it happens. This isn't the way it goes. He can't go like this. They can't leave each other. He just got him back.

He can't, he can't, he can't, he c—

Prince Jason Grace wakes up with a scream, blunt finger nails tearing into his chest as he attempts to rid himself of the nightmare. And when his eyes adjust to the world he only knows darkness and despair. The love of his life is still dead and he is still far away from his dear kingdom. Actually he has no idea where he is at all. That thought is the final pick in the ice and suddenly his body is wracking with sobs. His life is a complete fucking mess. And he doesn't want to do this anymore. Every event piles onto his chest like boulders until he can't breathe, until he is hyperventilating.

Far from home; Leo is dead; kidnapped; tortured; his husband is—

Wait where is his husband? The thought shocks him out of his panic so fast he's reeling as he sits up. The cold floor underneath his fingers ground him to the present and he pushes off the concrete onto shaky legs. He feels so weird, like his body is not his own, like he's been forcibly removed from it and shoved into a whole new one and now he has to learn how to be human all over again. He feels like he's died. Slowly he stumbles around until he hits a wall and then plastering his right hand to it he walks. Or more like drags himself along, nails scraping against the brick and a bare shoulder scratching against the roughness.

His eyes are useless for anything further than his feet and he sees no evidence of light. But the room, or what he's beginning to suspect is a hallway, continues so he to keeps going. Someone will fill in all the blanks in his memory but first he has to find his husband. There is a deep chasm in his chest and he has the ugly feeling it will only start filling when he sees those green eyes and floppy curls. It almost disgusts him how much he needs to see the Prince of Mare. It's like his body, his heart, has forgotten about Leo entirely. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought so he banishes everything but the need to get out of here. Suddenly he hits a wall, hard enough that he knows there’ll be a bruise tomorrow. With a silent prayer to gods he didn't care to believe in, he turns his body and keeps walking. Right hand still on the wall.

There is nothing and no-one. He feels likes he's in the inside of a black hole. There is not even the faint sounds of outside. It is just his dragging feet and his cracking nails and the ringing in his ear from the sheer lack of sound.

He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will—

There's a scraping sound. Someone gives a sharp inhale. A pinprick stings his neck. He is never getting out of here.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

Prince Jason clutches his rolling stomach, and without warning throws up the little contents that may have been in there. Before he even opens his eyes he knows whatever he will see cannot be good. Even behind his eyelids it is unnaturally bright and he can hear hushed whispers coming from somewhere. They sound angry. He will get the brunt of it.

"Well well well," A rapsy voice echoes around him.

He forces his eyes open and blinks back the harsh neon lighting to see Annabeth Chase, his previous kidnapper, and Grover Underwood.

"It's such a pity you don't remember me." She pouts unhappily, but there is nothing but viciousness in her grey eyes.

He wonders what he should remember.

"How do you feel Jason?"

"Like I died. Like I want to get out of here. Like I need to see my husband." He spits at the man leaning against the wall so casually.

"All in due time. But while we have you here I think we could use you."

"Why should I help either of you?" He curls his lip, anger making his vision blur, "You," He points a disgusted finger at the blonde girl, "Kidnapped me and Percy and then proceeded to torture us." She giggles and he wants to bury that sound six feet underground. "And you," He looks to Grover, the advisor to Mare and Percy's friend. He looks every bit the enemy. "I don't trust you one bit. Not if you can have her in your presence so calmly."

"I'm not looking for your trust Prince," The man, the being, scoffs. "I just need your cooperation. Otherwise Annabeth here has permission to get as creative as possible."

Grover tilts his head to her, a silent conversation passing between them, and then he leaves without so much as a glance to him.

"I'll never tell you anything." He growls at her.

She grins, pretty white teeth gleaming in the horrible light. "Let me tell you a story Prince Jason Grace, about the day you lost your sister."

"My who?"

She gives a secret smile and begins.

Twenty seven years ago a girl with blonde hair and grey eyes was born to The King and Queen of Mare. She was a sweet little girl with pigtails and a sharp mind and she kept her parents on their toes every second. One day this little girl's mom came to tell her that she would soon be getting a little sibling to play with and care for. The little girl was undeniably excited, or as excited as you can be when you're three years old and get told you're getting a small person just like you. Needless to say a little boy with blonde hair the exact same shade as hers, and blue eyes as bright as the summer skies was born. While she had eyes the exact shade of her mother’s he had their father’s eyes. And it was dangerous, but nobody knew that then. The little girl loved him immediately and with all her heart. They spent every moment together. Growing up and learning and loving each other as if it was the only natural thing to do. But when the little girl turned eighteen she received some horrible news. Her mother had died. Her brave beautiful mother who gave her kisses and taught her chess and spent hours reading to them. Understandably the family was devasted and they took it very hard. The girl— not so little anymore, grief will do that to a person— was angry and broken and unwilling to listen to the world that had so unfairly taken from her. So she rebelled against their father and lost their mother. And in her quest to feel something she engaged in nefarious, sinful, delightful activities. It was there that she met the love of her life. The Crown Princess of Hekima. Reyna. They got married within a year and have been together ever since. But the girl found out something about her mother's death and she was so furious as she rightfully should be that she renounced her title and vowed to bring down the very thing that killed her beloved mother.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

“You are terrible at telling stories.”

Annabeth smiles like a lion ready to pounce. "Figured out who the little girl is?"

"You." He heaves, chest constricting as he takes her in.

"And her little brother?"

"How come I don't remember you?"

"When we kidnapped you we put a serum in that would make you forget certain aspects of your life." She shrugs as if she's discussing the weather.

"And you feel no remorse for hurting your brother?" He spits at her feet.

Her grey eyes flash like steel and she gets into his face. "I have no family."

"Why tell me at all? Why not just let me be ignorant?"

That makes her smile- no, bare her teeth. "Because unlike me Jason Grace you would do anything for the people you love, for the people you think you owe. No matter the cost."

"I'm not telling you anything." His voice is hard. Like the concrete he is pressed into. Like thunder.

"Nah uh," She grins at him, "I'm your sister remember. You wouldn't deny your sister the information she wants."

"Try me."

It must be a sibling thing because a challenge enters both their eyes and it shines bright enough to dull the horrid neon lighting in the room.

"How do we kill Crown Prince Perseus Jackson?"

He blinks at her. Blinks again. And then he starts laughing. Knee slapping, stomach aching, wheezing kind of laughter. He can't breathe. He can't even see because his eyes are so filled with tears.

"I'm serious." She grinds out.

"How the fuck should I know? We don't discuss ways to kill each other," He rolls his eyes, muttering "Even if we do think about it."

"You must know. You have to know. It is woven into your DNA. You meet each other in every lifetime and die. You have seen it for centuries."

His fading laughter vanishes completely as he whips his head up to look at her. "What?"

"You and Perseus. You guys are immortal deities who appear whenever the world needs to be remade.” Her voice is impatient as if he should know this. As if she’s explaining it to an incompetent child. “You as the healer and him as the destroyer. But people and beings alike have been killing you for centuries because your presence means they will cease to exist. You have watched each other die multiple times. You have revived each other multiple times too."

"So you're saying we're soulmates?" He can hardly believe what he's hearing. It sounds like the biggest load of bullshit he's ever heard.

"No. You're more than that. You aren't just two halves that fit to make a whole. You aren't even two wholes that fit to make a pair. You are each other. You do not exist without him. He does not exist without you. You are not bound by souls or hearts or whatever us humans believe is the epitome of love. You are bound by life."

"I don't believe you." He rolls his eyes. This is garbage. This is nonsense. This is not real.

"I don't really have time to argue with you about it. Just tell me what I need to know and you will be spared."

"Why should I?" He's not even considering it. He would never betray his husband like that. Would never put the Prince in such volatile danger.

"Because if you don't," She gives another of her terrifying grins, "The kingdom you know and love will crumble to nothing."

"You're lying."

"It's already started Jason." She cackles, "The more time you spend with Perseus the more he will bleed into you and you into him. There are already cracks in the castle. Do you really want to risk it?"

His heart is pounding but she is wrong. Isn't she? "I don't believe you." He says again.

"Oh Jase," She gives him a pitying look and he wants to rip her eyes out and toss them in a lake to watch the fish. "The Castle of Caelum is falling to the ground. Your Prince's blood spilled on mom's roses and they crumbled to dust. There are splinters in the stone. They will become chasms. Either you help us or you risk your precious kingdom turning to debris right before you."

"And what's in it for me?"

"You'll be spared from the slaughter of the monarchs."

"And my husband?"

"He will die. This is non negotiable. One of you must, to stop you from fulfilling your fates. We have someone with him right now."

Wrong answer. But he bows his head and pretends to mull it over. Inside his thoughts are whirring like a new machine and plan after plan formulates in his mind.

"Okay Annabeth Chase, my sister," He smiles soft and sweet. She returns it in triumph. "I will join your rebellion. I will tell you how to kill my husband."

And as she picks him up from the floor and removes the invisible ties keeping him pinned to the concrete he allows himself a secret smile of his own. It hints at the malice, the destruction, to come. They made the biggest mistake of their lives when they took him away from the Prince. They will pay.

I'm coming for you Percy.

So Crown Prince Jason Grace loops his arm through his sister's and makes friends with his enemy.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

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

I don’t really know how I feel about this part. Feels a bit all over the place but at least we’re getting some clarification which is cool. Also are Annabeth and the rebels the good guys or bad guys for wanting to save the world from Jase and Perc? *raises eyebrow curiously*

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​

@leydiangelo​​

@sparkythunderstorm​​

@makos-bi-awakening​​

@aalikun​​

[sondepoch]

XXIII: Saeran's Route (Y/N)

Where Futures Begin

Life used to be simple for you. Peaceful. But the Savior had other plans for you, and in moments, she ruined what you thought was your one shot at happiness. Blinded by anger, you escaped the Mint Eye, but that triggered a series of events that would bring you further into the world of brothers Saeran and Saeyoung. And further into the twisted world of your love for them.

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

MASTERLIST

When it came to formalwear, you'd only ever seen Saeran in his black suit, back at the Mint Eye.

And he, your usual believers' robes and the magenta dresses that Rika had forced you to wear.

As such, it was a pleasant surprise for the two of you to see each other the morning of the RFA party—Saeran, in a white tuxedo selected by Saeyoung, and you, in a delicate (f/c) dress that hung at your knees.

"You look beautiful, princess." Saeran pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as soon as the two of you stepped out of the car. He'd been eyeing you since you slipped the dress on, but had evidently held back in all your haste to arrive at the party. Now that the three of you were here, though, he seemed to pay no mind to the venue, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"Your suit," You mumbled into Saeran's lips, eyes closed and unable to hold back a smile. "You look perfect in it."

If he heard your compliment, though, Saeran made no indication of such, ignoring even his brother's pleas for the three of you to come on and get inside already.

Finally, when you were breathless (and just a little needy) from the kiss, he released you.

"All right, let's go."

As you followed the twins into the party hall, you couldn't help but sigh at Saeran's inexplicable ability to kiss you as if he'd never kissed you before, and then act completely normal the next moment, as if nothing had happened.

He really doesn't know what he does to me, you realized with an amused smile. Though that only makes him more precious.

You entered the party hall, listening absentmindedly to Saeyoung's chatter as he talked to you about the previous parties that had been hosted. In truth, you didn't care much. All that mattered was the present, and the fact that this party hosted would directly help everyone who had been touched by the Mint Eye's distorted ways.

After this party, everything would go back to normal.

Everything.

All the believers and disciples would disband, find new paths to take in society. Rika herself was apparently under the care of V himself, and would also be given a chance to heal from the wounds she'd inflicted upon herself and others. And, perhaps most importantly, you and Saeran would finally be able to continue your relationship in peace. The Mint Eye would be a thing of the past, leaving only an unbound future for you to march into.

"Ah! Saeran, (Y/N), you made it!" You turned to see the calm smile of V. "I hope you'll both stay til the end of the party. I have a small surprise planned at the end that I'm sure you'll both enjoy."

"Saeyoung has decided that he won't leave until even the party cleanup has finished, so we'll definitely be here a while." You smiled warmly at the man who, somewhat inadvertently, had helped free you from your old life.

"That's good to hear. How have the two of you been faring in Saeyoung's bunker?"

The next few hours passed like that. Small chatter with the various guests, Saeran pulling you off to the side every now and then to whisper in your ear or to kiss you, Saeyoung pulling you two back into a new conversation.

When you escaped to the bathroom, you ran into MC, who seemed rather uncomfortable to be caught alone in your presence, especially now that she knew the full story about everything that had happened. She was by no means kind in her words, but her halfhearted "We should talk sometime" seemed like an unspoken offer to make amends. It wasn't anything tangible, but you suspected that, if things continued down that route, there might come a day when the two of you would be acquaintances. Maybe even friends.

You had the pleasure of meeting the people Saeyoung worked with at the RFA: from Yoosung, the blonde college student (who you learned was Rika's cousin) to Jumin, the executive corporate heir of some company that you recognized the name of from your orphanage days.

"V, isn't it time you began the final event?" A man named 'Zen' asked.

"Ah, you're right." V smiled and bowed his head lightly. "I hope you'll all excuse me."

Before he could go, though, Jumin spoke up.

"Truly, V? You're positive that you want to sell your pictures for this event?" The black-haired man seemed skeptical, and for good reason. You'd heard from Saeyoung that V's pictures were sought after in the industry, and selling them at this specific event (noble as the cause was) might not have been the best decision for the man's career.

"As things stand, this event hasn't raised enough finances to help all those affected by the Mint Eye. If selling my pictures can play a role in sealing this chapter of Rika's past...I'm sure she'll be much better for it."

"You really still want to be with her after everything she did to Saeran and (Y/N)?" Saeyoung's question was fueled more by curiosity than anger, or any past resentment, but it made V stiffen nonetheless.

"I understand that everyone has mixed feelings...but Rika is just as broken as her followers, maybe even more. I...I just want to help her heal. And hopefully, this time, things will be different. She now has the support of her family, after all." V smiled lightly and glanced at Yoosung. Upon hearing the word 'family,' the blonde seemed to burst with energy, his smile doubling in intensity.

As V walked toward the stage, leaving you all, you couldn't help but hear Saeyoung murmur somewhat wistfully, "At least Rika brings Yoosung happiness."

And as much as the woman had wronged you, you couldn't help but agree. The blonde boy seemed to radiate joy—and after being separated from Saeran only to reunite, you would recognize the look in his eye anywhere: bliss. Bliss and relief, at reattaining that which was once lost.

Before you could dwell on the matter further, though, V's clear voice echoed through the room. Instantly, all chatter ceased, and the guests turned their attention upon him.

Well, most guests.

As V politely thanked everyone for attending the party and spoke about the important sponsors, you turned to Saeran.

"How are you feeling?" You kept your voice low so that only he could hear you, knowing how mixed his feelings still were on V and this whole situation.

"Not as bad as I thought things would be. Better, since you're by my side." Saeran smiled softly down at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You couldn't help but lean into his touch when he laced his fingers in yours.

You wanted to say more, perhaps thank Saeran for even agreeing to come here in the first place with you, but before you could, the sound of cheering erupted all over you.

Oh.

V had begun the auction.

You watched as, all around you, people began bidding for his work. Indeed, you understood why the demand for his pictures was so high. As V unveiled album after album, you began to realize why he was a world-renowned photographer.

"Ah, this collection is one he's been asked to sell countless times. I'm glad he's finally releasing it to the public," Saeyoung murmured from next to you, providing you tidbits of information with each new album.

You watched in awe as four albums were revealed and sold, the first album sold off separately in pieces, but the others bid upon as full sets—and couldn't help but let your breath catch in your throat as each new picture was revealed.

Art.

There was no other way to describe it.

V's camera didn't just capture moments and scenes: he captured emotions.

The first album, Flowers in Laughter, left you shook with its brilliance—breaking down any questions you might have had in mind over V's capabilities.

The second, Myriad Memoir, almost scared you with how much raw emotion it brought forth.

When you saw the third, you almost forgot to breathe: each picture in Glass over Truth seeming to resonate with not just your heart but memories you thought long buried.

And even when your eyes settled over Observing Lies, when you were so confident that nothing else could shake you, your bottom lip trembled as you continued glancing from picture to picture.

You felt your heart rise and fall as each album took you on an emotional rollercoaster, bringing you to lows and highs, showing you sorrow and joy, and the delicate smidgens of hope buried underneath it all.

Truly, you couldn't look at a single one of his pictures and bear to tear your eyes away.

Your heart wouldn't let you.

And that, perhaps, was why when V's final album, was revealed, your entire body felt like it was short-circuiting.

"This album is a product of my most recent work. As many rumors have been circulating, my eyesight is indeed beginning to fail. But it is known that, in my work, I aim to photograph more than what our eyes can see—I photograph what the heart feels, and immortalize it. Which is why, despite my decreasing capabilities of vision, even I am not so blind as to fail to recognize the pure love that these individuals have in their hearts."

V pulled back the curtain that was revealing the final set of pictures, and Saeran's grip over your hand instantly tightened.

"This collection is my most prized work, a culmination of everything I sought to capture when I first decided to be a photographer. I call this album: Where Futures Begin."

Without even formally opening the bidding, people were already shouting numbers—every soul in the room wanting to own this masterpiece collection.

Because no matter how brilliant all V's previous works were, this album put them all to shame. There was no mistaking it: the angles and light and object organization left nothing to the imagination: looking at these pictures, even the biggest fools would have to see what V had managed to capture so beautifully.

You stared in awe.

Each image in the album was filled with the purest emotion: love.

Each image in the album was of you.

You and Saeran, to be specific.

You gazed at the first picture. The two of you were locked in a tight embrace just outside the Mint Eye, seeking not comfort in each others' arms but stability, as if in that time of turmoil the only reliable, unchanging foundation in your lives was each other.

The second image—you didn't even know that V had been present, but looking back it made sense that he would have seen it—was one of where the two of you were in the rain under a single umbrella. At the time, you hadn't even registered that both your outfits were varying shades of grey, but the black-and-white nature of your clothes and the background only made the splashes of color on both your cheeks all the more prominent as you clung to Saeran's sleeve while he gazed down at you adoringly, a rare smile eternalized on his face.

The third, a chaste kiss outside V's apartment when Saeyoung had brought the two of you there to speak with the man. You stared at it in awe, wondering how the image managed to capture the fleetingness of the kiss despite the lasting nature of the picture.

The photographs continued like that, all moments that you had never been aware that V had seen, but captured and developed nonetheless. He had found everything: chaste kisses, abashed glances, sweet laughs, even the wholesome hand-holding that Saeran used to be so averse to. 

By some ridiculous miracle, the man had succeeded in photographing the two of you as Saeran kissed you so passionately just outside the party hall this morning, the fast-paced motion all around you only intensifying the intimacy of the moment when you two stood still to lose yourselves in each other. You couldn't help but wonder when V had found the time to develop a picture so last-minute, given that the moment had happened just hours ago, but found yourself shaking your head. The man, as proven by this album, seemed to work wonders.

There was even a picture with Saeyoung, a snapshot of the three of you laughing, and the dispersal of red hair throughout the image told as much a story as it did reveal the varying types of love in your relationship: brotherly, platonic, and—of course—romantic.

You felt a familiar heat rise to your cheeks as the unmistakable feeling bloomed in your chest. No doubt, every person in the room who was gazing upon those pictures was feeling it too.

Love.

And at the back of your mind, you remembered how V had quietly urged you and Saeran to stay—saying that he had a lovely surprise for you two at the end.

Why, this is the best surprise a person could receive.

You found yourself unable to take the smile off your face, the grin only emboldened by Saeyoung's voice joining on the current bidding war that was going on over this album.

"I want it!" He shouted, overly dramatic as usual. You had to force his hand down to get him to listen, but by then, Saeran was egging him on.

The glint of pride in both their eyes as they gazed upon your and Saeran's love immortalized almost prompted you to let the brothers do as they pleased, but you finally found your voice.

"No, guys." You forced them both to look you in the eye amidst all the chaotic bidding. "V called this album Where Futures Begin for a reason."

It was only then that they seemed to recall the album name, and it was then that they understood the meaning of your words.

Where futures begin. But not the future itself.

The album would go home to the house of a wealthy individual, likely one who didn't have the same love in their life as the three of you had in yours'. But that fact wouldn't matter to you. It shouldn't.

Because you had your whole lives ahead of you. Lives that were finally free of the past, no longer rooted in pain or misunderstandings or misery.

This album was V's gift to the three of you. It was a Congratulations! present in advance, commemorating the balance of love that the three of you would be sharing from that day and every day onward. Through thick and thin, that would become the new constant in your lives: the emotion that V had selected when he first saw the way you and Saeran gazed into each others' eyes. Love.

And while others would get to enjoy the sight of where your future together began, you all would have something so much better: the actual future.

At long last, you had finally reached a state where no one else would be able to steal that future away.

No, that future belonged to you, Saeran, and Saeyoung. No others.

A flame ignited in your heart at the thought, fanned by sudden thoughts of having to go through life without either of the boys that you'd grown so dependent on.

Though as you gazed upon their understanding faces and knowing smiles, you realized that there was no need to fear.

These two boys were your future.

Nothing would ever be able to take that away from you.

Fin.

MASTERLIST

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: Wow. It feels so bittersweet, that this (my first series ever) is coming to a close after a total of 29 chapters, but it fills me with happiness that i actually succeeded in getting this done. I'm thankful to you guys for reading this, because I never would have been able to complete this otherwise. Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for commenting, thank you for liking, thank you for reading. It's been such a ride (four whole months!) and while this journey is over, i hope that you'll join me in the next fic :) I hope you enjoyed this series, and I hope that you have an absolutely wonderful day. <3

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

[hedwigstalons]

Popsicles

I don’t know much about lizards (the other prompt idea I was given) but I’ve eaten more than my fair share of frozen treats over the years.  So following the idea from @gumnut-logic of Gordon, Virgil and a bucket of popsicles have some smol!Tracy fluff.

xoxoxox

“Mommy, can I go get a popsicle please?”

Lucille looked up from her place on the sand at the pair on beseeching brown eyes staring down at her.

“Sure you can Honey.  You know you can use your holiday money on whatever you want, just remember we are going to the sea life sanctuary tomorrow and you might want to save your money for the gift shop.  And remember the rule about not heading to the shop by yourself.”

Gordon’s face fell.  He had hoped his request would result in being bought a popsicle without having to dip into his precious and much depleted holiday reserves.  He left his mother building sandcastles with baby Alan and trudged back to the stack of bags, obligatory for every Tracy beach trip, kicking at the sand as he went.

Gordon dug through their belongings, unearthed the coin purse emblazoned with a starfish, and tipped the contents out onto the corner of a beach towel.

Virgil looked up from his own position on a nearby towel.  The rummaging through bags and clinking of coins, not to mention the accompanying deep sighs that only a six year old in search of ice cream could make was distracting to say the least.  He put down his sketchpad knowing that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his seascape until Gordon had moved on.

“What’s the matter Gordy?”

“Wanted a popsicle.”

“What did Mom say?”

“She said yes, as long as I bought it myself.”

Virgil could clearly see the dilemma in his brother’s features.  While they might have plenty of money as a family their parents were keen to instill some financial sense into the boys.  If they wanted something they had to earn it or save for it from their allowance.  If money ran out that was it, gone until more could be earnt.  

At the start of the holiday each boy had been given a special bonus to spend as they pleased.  For the oldest ones, who had also been saving for the trip to the coast, their holiday fund was pretty healthy.  For Gordon, who had started the trip without extra savings, and who had spend most of his money on treats and candy in the first few days, the contents of his coin purse made a very meagre pile.

“Do you have enough?”

“Yes but it’s the sea life centre tomorrow.”

Gordon started to carefully count the coins back into the purse, making sure not a single quarter got missed.  Evidently there would be no popsicles today and probably no more for the entire trip.

Virgil took pity on his forlorn sibling.

“Let’s go for a walk” he said, carefully putting the lid back on his tin of pencils and tucking them away in his travel art case.

The pair set off down the beach.  Lucille watched them go with half an eye, keeping track of her large brood was no easy feat especially with Alan demanding so much attention.  As if on cue the chubby blonde tried to eat a handful of sand.  By the time she looked up again the two wandering boys had reached the corner of the headland and would soon be out of sight.  She wasn’t too worried though, she trusted Virgil to keep an eye on his younger brother.

As they walked along Virgil could feel the longing radiating off his sibling.  

“Would you like me to buy you a popsicle?”

Gordon looked up, smiled, then frowned.

“Wouldn’t be fair.”

“What if I bought popsicles for everyone?”

“Still not fair.  I want a popsicle so I should buy it.”

Virgil looked into that small but serious face.  He could see how much the thought of a frozen treat was gnawing away at Gordon but the young boy had clearly taken their mother’s words to heart.

“What if you did chores to earn the money but I pay you in advance?”

He could almost hear the thoughts chasing round Gordon’s head as he contemplated the offer.  There was a definite frown and the merits of owing a debt were weighed up against the promise of a popsicle.

“Okay, but can I earn enough to get popsicles for everyone?”

Virgil looked down fondly.  As well as being taught to be sensible with money all the brothers had been taught to be kind.  Being kind was more valuable than the entire family fortune.  

A few minutes, and one trip to the beach cafe later, Gordon and Virgil returned to the family beach encampment bearing a brightly coloured plastic bucket stuffed full of popsicles.  Their shouts brought Scott and John running back from the water and soon the whole family was gathered round while Gordon solemnly handed out popsicles to everyone, including his parents.  The empty bucket was then handed to Alan who was delighted at having a new toy to help with the sandcastle building.

Later that night Lucille took Virgil to one side.

“That was a very kind thing you did today, I hope you haven’t left yourself short.”  She knew seven popsicles and a beach toy wouldn’t have been cheap, the cafe charged a premium to the visiting tourists.

“It’s fine.”  Virgil gave the embarrassed shrug of the pre-teen.

“And he does need to pay you back otherwise he’ll never learn his lesson.”

“I know Mom.  I just didn’t like seeing him upset.  You know, he was really proud at the thought of being able to give something to all of us.”

“That’s great Sweetie, although I wonder how that idea ended up in his head?” Lucille teased, knowing it was an action more characteristic to her second son than any of the others.  

Virgil just shrugged again, of course he would make Gordon do a few light chores, maybe make sure he kept his bedroom in the beach house tidy to help their mother, but for Virgil it had never been about having his brother owe him anything.  He just liked the glow of helping others and now his little brother was also learning to appreciate the glow that came from doing something nice.

[avengerscompound]

Happy New Year

As we move into 2020 I like to reflect back over the year and this blog.

This year has been super weird.  From finding out I had cancer to getting it removed and being declared cancer-free.  Rebuilding my blog after I was terminated with no cause only to get my old blog back a year later.  End Game.  My state literally catching fire.  Tumblr slowly dying.  It’s been quite up and down.  I’ll be glad to put an end to it.

Here are some of my Tumblr highlights.

Here are my top ten fics of the year:

Generations - Bucky Barnes/OFC, A woman with a cloudy past…and a baby comes into Bucky’s life, things get complicated. @thelookingglassalice 

Anything in general from @winterhawkkisses.  They’re like 75% of why I got into winterhawk as hard as I did.  Nny writes so evocatively and with such care for the characters.  Try these ones:

746

718

715

689

673

Santa Tell Me (If You’re Really There) - Brunnhilde/reader What do you tell your daughter when she asks if Santa Claus is real? @daenyara 

Untitled Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, a gorgeous little snippet of the love between Clint and Nat.  @ellewritesfiction 

Want - Sam Wilson/Reader Sometimes love just looks a little different from the outside @avengersandlovers

The Fall - Bucky Barnes/unnamed ofc (so can kind of be read as a reader), Bucky meets a woman who is struggling with her own trauma, together they work out a way to move forward.  @marvel-lucy

Out of the Shadows - Clint Barton/Reader, Clint is sent to arrest a cat burglar and makes a different choice.  @until-theend-oftheline

Runaway - Sam  Wilson/Reader A chance encounter in a toy aisle leaves Sam smiling.  @blacktithe7

I want to hold your hand - Sam Wilson/Reader, A first date with Sam Wilson. @captainrogerss 

Misdirected Competition - Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton “Take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. Shoot me, then walk away.” @fanficwriter013 

Five fics I wrote this year that I’m proud of:

Undercover - Series You go on an undercover mission with your boyfriend Bucky and Clint Barton.  When you and Clint have to pretend you’re in a relationship feelings become confused.*  Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bartoned - Series Clint’s name has become synonymous with fucking things up.  When you have a one night stand with him, your whole life gets Bartoned. Clint Barton x Reader

The Unicorn – Series  A story about love coming from unlikely places, polyamory and starting a family.* Pepper Potts x Tony Stark x Reader

Blank Space - Series Wanda has become used to the thoughts of others pressing down on her constantly until one day she meets you. A complete blank space in the world.*  Wanda Maximoff x Reader

THE TOWER: THE QUEEN OF ASGARD  The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.  Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.  Avengers x OFC

The people who brighten up my dashboard in various ways:

@amazon-x, @anavengerstale, @arrow-guy, @ask-the-hawk-archer, @avengersandlovers, @bloggingfromherbed, @buckyfvckmebarnes, @bucky-is-my-precious, @callamint, @capcevans81, @capsgrantrogers, @captainmarvehl, @captainrogerss, @chirsevans, @clintfbarton, @clint-you-dummy, @crispsevans​, @deannamb​, @evansrogerskitten​, @fanficwriter013​, @feelmyroarrrr​, @foxprints​, @gingerrootknits​, @hello-shellhead​, @hugsforsteve​, @imhereforbucky​, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers​, @jennylovelyheart​, @jeremyleerennerdotcom​, @katemcgraw​, @lillianfromaccounting​, @lady-thor-foster​, @lokilockedcougar​, @marvel-lucy​, @mewsiex​, @mintmintdoodles​, @mizzzpink​, @moonbeambucky​, @mumbles411​, @musicalninja​, @nochillsteve​, @peraltastark​, @peterman-parker​, @promarvelfangirl​, @rennered4real​, @samtwilson​, @sgtbucharest​, @softlybarnes​, @starked​, @thelookingglassalice​, @tiredsciencebro​, @tomhiddleston-loki​, @tone-stark​, @until-theend-oftheline​, @vibranium-arm​, @whatmakesmebeme-tblr​, @winterhawkkisses​, @winters-buck​

Also thank you to:

@audasia25​, @bluearchersstuff​, @buckystolemyheart​, @capslut2014​, @clintbartonswifee​, @emilyshurley​, @erosbellarke​, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​, @hellaqueerangelofthelord​, @honey-bee-holly​, @ilovethings-somuch​, @jewels2876​, @justreadingfics​, @kingcarterprince​, @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​, @lesbian-x-blackwidow​, @moonbeambucky​, @myinconnelly1​, @pegasusdragontiger​, @samstuffandworld, @sorenmarie87​, @spyderqueer​, @the-real-kellymonster​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @until-theend-oftheline​, @welldonebeca​, @winters-buck​, @xxloki81xx​

You make actually posting fics worth it.  You’re the reason I’m as prolific as I am.  And you’re the reason why I haven’t ever just abandoned a fic before.  This site needs way more people like you. 

[sabineelectricheart]

Duchess Fraldarius

Summary: In Spring, Imperial Year 1181, Mercedes von Martritz finally wed.

Rating: R - Content features heavy themes. Not suitable for most audiences. Consult warnings before proceeding.

Graphic depictions of rape, domestic abuse and confinement. Reader discretion is highly advised.

Words: 2700

Notes: Due to absolutely no-one’s request, I am proud to present another disturbingly dark fanfic. Usually, I only put out MC fics, but this one does not fit Byleth at all, but it is perfectly befitting Mercedes’ card if she does not return to the monastery in 1185.

Margrave Gautier would much more befitting for the role of abusive husband, but I have already done one about his sick tendencies and I am to understand he is still wed. So Rodrigue it is.

Remember, you were warned.

The snow falls steadily out the window. There is grave silence in the grounds, the people out that grand, ornate, thick double doors are hungry, tired and worried for their future, but none of it ever came inside. Inside, there was no cold, no darkness and no want. Only happiness and tranquillity.

Mercedes, Duchess Fraldarius, is sprawled out on the plush mattress of the Castle’s master bedroom donning a thin, silk sleeping dress, one of the many she kept on the trunk by the foot of the bed. She wore little else, other than a pair of shoes and stockings, for meals.

In Spring, Imperial Year 1181, her stepfather finally settled on a marriage contract with a nobleman. Rodrigue, Duke Fraldarius, who was in dire need of gold to fund the resistance effort against the Empire, once the Kingdom fell. Her stepfather wanted to buy himself some nobility, and so the deal was closed.

“Daddy.” The blonde cleric whines, pouting at the man before her.

He had undressed her, kissed along her neck, and commanded she get on the bed, leaving her incredibly turned on. Now, Rodrigue stands at the foot of the bed, slowly folding up his sleeves, not touching her. He is not even looking at her, and that just will not do.

Her husband has been married before. Mercedes remembers, very faintly, Ingrid commenting that, despite being a regular fixture at Castle Fraldarius, she had never met her mother-in-law, even before her untimely death, six or so years ago, before Glenn’s passing. The first wife was kept just like the second, she concludes, it is just her husband’s way of life.

No-one, other than her husband, her stepfather and Margrave Gautier, knows she is here. Sometimes she hears Felix’s voice, sees his teal hair running on the grounds, but he does not come to visit her. No letters arrive, either. It was disturbing at first, but now she finds comforting.

“Daddy!” Mercedes repeats, giving a displeased kick of her feet.

She sees the beginnings of an amused smile tugging at his lips, the soft yet wicked turn of his facial hair, but he quells it, and instead looks at she with a raised brow.

“What is it, sweet pea?” Rodrigue asks with a chilling tone.

“I am waiting!” She grouses, narrowing her eyes slightly.

At that, he lets his amusement show clear on his face.

“You must be mistaken, dear. Waiting implies the presence of patience, and I do not believe you to be very patient.” He teases, finally putting his now exposed forearms down at his side.

She only whines, squirming on the bed. She rubs her thighs together as she gives Rodrigue her most pleading look.

“Oh darling.” His taunting voice only fuels her arousal. “Very well, I will give she attention. Since you are very clearly desperate for it.”

Their marriage is barren, and will remain so. Rodrigue himself brings her contraceptive herbs and charms. War or no war, estranged or not, Felix is his heir, and he is not about to have his House thrown apart by conflicts between half-siblings, like so many others all around Fódlan had. It was hard enough keeping his own brother’s prolific family at bay.

The Duke glances down at the apex of her thighs. “Take off your smallclothes for me.”

Though the command is gentle, Mercedes rushes to comply, lifting her hips so she can pull her underwear off under her skirt. She bends her knees, removing them completely, and toss them to the floor beside her.

“Good girl.” He praises, feeling his tights become too small for his virile, deviant manhood. “Spread your legs, let me see how aroused you are.”

The church girl side of hers takes over for a moment and the blonde blushes at that, suddenly feeling shy. She rubs her thighs together once more, looking down at her husband bashfully. He tuts.

“Do not get shy on me now, precious. Let me see that sweet pussy.” His posh accent, the finest High Imperial language, the likes of which spoken at the courts, but rarely at the church and never at home.

Perhaps it is a sick memory of Baron Bartels, that blond, cold man’s domineering presence and strong jaws, a combination of beautiful and terrifying that confounded and charmed many a maiden in Adrestia. Perhaps it is her admiration of Ferdinand and Lorenz from her times as a student, that sincere but entitled kindness, born not out of a public spirit but of an instinct to reinforce a social order that privileged them. Be as it may, that proper speech has her sex pulsing, drives her to comply with the wildest things. The woman draws her legs apart slowly, biting her lip in embarrassment. She is sure he can see her folds glistening with the evidence of her arousal.

He hums.

Is it wrong? Is it sick? Mercedes does not know anymore, but in any case, there is no escape from this castle. There was no more Church of Seiros or Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to grant her a divorce, and even if it were, she would not be able to reach Galatea on foot, trekking through forests and mountains. She escaped an abusive marriage once before, she does not have the strength to escape another.

She does well if she convinces herself she is happy in here. Where she is fed and protected.

“There she is.” Rodrigue steps closer until his thighs make contact with the mattress, eyes glued between her legs. “My little girl. Are you eager for daddy, dearest?”

Mercedes nods, expectantly.

“Look at that, you are dripping.” He murmurs.

She whimpers needily, and at the same time she draws her legs together, feeling exposed under his intense gaze. He grabs her ankles, yanking them apart.

“Keep them open!” He growls his order, looking at her sternly.

She nods, giving another pitiful whimper, lest she angers her husband.

The Duke brings a finger up, sliding it teasingly through her folds. The blonde lets out a breathy moan at the contact, angling her hips to invite him to touch her some more.

“So responsive.” He repeats his ministration and she squirms, careful to keep her legs spread as he had instructed.

Finally, after a couple slower drags, the nobleman’s long, calloused finger, bearing his signet ring, stops at her entrance. He eases it into her tight heat, and the cleric moans at the sensation, head falling back. Below her, she hears her husband inhale sharply.

“You are so tight for me darling.” Rodrigue brings his free hand up to rest on the base of her stomach.

He holds her down as he begins pumping his finger in and out of her, pace torturously slow. Mercedes whines, attempts to buck under the firm pressure of his hand failing. She tries to wait patiently for him to speed up, but he seems to have no problem taking it slow.

She, however, have a great problem with that, and decide to let him know.

Mercedes weighs she is rather happy with the situation. Her whole life had been about caring for others. She cared for Emile under the Bartels, she cared for her mother when they ran away, she cared for her stepfather in Fhirdiad, she cared for the students at the Sorcery School, and she cared for Annette at the Officers’ Academy. In Fraldarius, she is cared for, she does not have to lift a finger or concern herself with anybody.

It was freeing, in a way.

“Daddy, give me more.” Mercedes means to sound assertive and compelling, but her aroused state means the words come out a desperate whine.

Rodrigue raises an eyebrow, finally looking up from her pussy.

“That is not how one asks nicely.” He reprimands, continuing his excruciating pace.

The Duchess lets out a huff and roll her eyes before she can stop herself. Swiftly, Rodrigue’s hand leaves her pussy and comes down on her inner thigh, a sharp smack sounding in the room.

Mercedes gasps.

“Watch it, girl. That attitude will not be tolerated.” His voice is a low growl, and she quickly nods.

“My apologies, daddy.” She mumbles, cheeks burning at her little scolding.

The man hums, placated, and the blonde wife feels emboldened to rephrase her question.

“Please, can I have some more?” She corrects her earlier words.

“Much better.” He brings his hand back down to her entrance, sliding two large fingers into she now.

She moans, gripping the bedsheets, relishing in the delicious stretch. He pumps his fingers at a steady pace, a welcome change from that prior. Soon, he pulls his fingers from she once again, and she whine at the loss. He shushes she, thumb rubbing over her stomach soothingly.

“You will not be empty long, sweet thing, do not fret.” His free hand works open the fastenings of his trousers, pulling them and his smallclothes down enough to free his thick length.

She watches intently as it bobs against his stomach, wide eyed. Rodrigue chuckles at her reaction. He gives himself a few languid strokes.

No, Mercedes lied. She has much to concern herself about in this chamber. There are no books and no needlework, there are no sweets to be baked or wounds to heal. Her only pastime is wondering where her husband might be, when he will arrive with her meals and whether he will fuck her.

It might have been a minor concern of hers, if she had more to busy herself with, but her mind gives it proper weight since it has nothing else to think about. So much so, she has taken to sleep with one of his capes, one that smelled of him.

“Do you want my cock, darling?” Rodrigue murmurs, leading her to nod enthusiastically.

The Duke raises an eyebrow at Mercedes silently, and she quickly realizes what he is waiting for.

“Yes, daddy, please give me your cock” She slurs, eyes pleading.

He hums.

“Good girl.” He holds himself at his base and slowly guides his length into her waiting hole.

The blonde Duchess moans as he sinks into her, walls fluttering around him.

“That is my girl,” Rodrigue grits out as he watches her pussy devour his cock.

He hooks his arms under the crooks of her knees, pulling Mercedes so her ass is hanging off the edge of the bed. He begins to rut into her deeply, holding her thighs in a bruising grip. She moans at the rough treatment.

“Do you like that, sweet pea? Do she like when I pound your pussy?” His voice is somehow steady and his face unbothered save for his furrowed brows and a light sheen of sweat.

His composed posture is a sharp contrast to her moaning, writhing form below him. If one was to capture that moment on a painting, it might belong to the realm of grotesque, rather than romantic. These are two people who have lost themselves in their indulgence.

Mercedes does not care about any of it and nods desperately.

“Yes, daddy, it feels so good!” She moans loudly.

“Naughty girl.” He growls out. “Worry not, I will fuck you straight. I will bring out a proper Fraldarius wife out of you just yet.”

The blue-haired nobleman brings a hand up from her thigh to her mouth, sliding his thumb over her bottom lip before slotting it into her slack mouth.

“Suck.” He orders.

The blonde woman complies, working his thumb with her tongue and suctioning gently. Another growl leaves his lips.

“So obedient. Such a good girl for me. Just for me to fuck.” His hips snap into she all the more roughly, his pace increasing.

Mercedes moans around his thumb, squeezing her eyes shut. She feels herself climbing towards her peak, her walls tightening around Rodrigue.

“Open your eyes. Look at me when you come.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Her doe-like blue eyes snap open, coming down to meet his. Cold, sick, vicious and lascivious.

“There is my girl. Come on, come for me.” He encourages.

Having been granted his permission, she allows her body to fall over the edge. She moans breathlessly around the thumb still in her mouth, legs shaking and pussy spasming with her release.

The tightening of her channel is enough to send Rodrigue into orgasm just after she with a muttered “yes, darling”. Despite his vehemence against a child of her own, he always releases inside her. She feels as thick ropes of his cum fill her, and she whimpers. Her eyes flutter shut, feeling spent and exhausted.

Rodrigue pulls his thumb from her mouth and his cock from her cunt after a moment of catching his breath. He goes over to the bedside table, grabbing a towel to clean himself with and tucking his length back into his trousers.

Then, he goes back over to her, handing her the same piece of cloth so Mercedes could clean her intimacy.

“Come on sweet pea, you cannot fall asleep just yet.” He pulls her further down the bed by her waist, sliding his hand under her back to guide she upright. “I am still voracious.”

The Duchess open her eyes, feet meeting the floor. Despite up straight, the woman stands on shaky limbs.

“I am tired, daddy.” She complains feebly, looking up at him.

Rodrigue coos, wrapping his arm around she for support as he guides her to the bathing area.

“I know, you can sleep right after I am satiated. For now, clean yourself, as you still have a duty to perform.” He murmurs, stopping by the tiled room door and nudging her forward gently.

“Would you cuddle with me afterwards?” She glances back at him with wide, pleading eyes.

He gives her a soft smile that makes her heart flutter with adoration.

“Of course not, precious.” Rodrigue responds instantly, with a soft voice of someone waxing poetry by their lover’s ear. “I would not sleep well here with you.”

Mercedes does not know why she bothers asking. He never stays. She still held on the hope that he would stay a night, that the loneliness on her heart will be dispelled, if only temporarily.

Oh. Is she lonely? She does not know. Either way, it is best not to dwell on those thoughts. As her husband pointed out, she still has a duty to perform.

She makes her way over to the toilet and Rodrigue goes back into the bedroom. He pulls back the bedding and her some tea as she relieves herself and washes her hands. She heads back into the bedroom, walking over to him.

“Would she like pajamas, are she cold?” He asks, handing she the glass of water. She take it, looking at him thoughtfully for a moment, before shaking sher head.

“Alright.” He gestures to the steaming, inodorous tea with his eyes. “Drink up.”

She obediently raises the teacup to her lips, taking a couple of sips, eyes on his over the rim. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she continue drinking until half the cup is empty before pausing again, looking at him once more. He nods, waving his hands, signalling he wanted her to drink it all. She would do well if she complied, she would not want to be forced to drink the rest.

“Good girl.” He praises, setting the ceramic down on the bedside table.

Mercedes climbs into the bed, facing Rodrigue, and nestles under the covers. He removes his coat and trousers, leaving him in his smallclothes, and climbs into bed beside she. He wraps an arm around she and she snuggles in close, resting her head on his strong chest. His thumb rubs soft circles on her arm.

She feels her head faint, as her husband touches her lower and lower. He might have tired of her voice. It does not matter, she will perform to his highest expectations, conscient or not.

The last thought that runs through Mercedes’ head is that it is the 24th of Eternal Moon, 1185. The eve of the Millennial Festival, of the oath she had swore to return to Garreg Mach.

It seems she is not going to make it.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

[fortune-fool02]

Marriage Proposal

Robert. E. O. Speedwagon x female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Please enjoy.

This was it. This was the day that Speedwagon would ask his beloved [Name] to be his wife. The two have been together for four years. They have been by each other’s side through thick and thin, refusing to leave the other regardless of their situations. 

Speedwagon loved [Name] and [Name] loved Speedwagon. There was no denying about that. She was his world, his stars and everything in between. In truth, Speedwagon doubted that he would feel such happiness each day if he didn’t wake up beside the [Hair colour] woman. 

With a simply, gentle smile, she could melt away all irritation and annoyance of the day. Her presence alone made him feel whole, complete in a way he did not even realise he was missing until he met her. 

Each night they laid together, her in his arms, everything felt right; as if Fate itself had destined for them to be together. He had no fear of the darkness as long as she was by his side, lightening his way through the darkness. How could he have lived without her for so long? Where has she been all his life? He knew exactly where she had been: Heaven, for God has blessed him by sending his most precious angel. 

She was his light, his night; the rising moon and the setting sun. His candle-light in the evening and his star light at night, always there for him even when the sky was shrouded by clouds, her beauty continued to glow. 

And he wanted to make her his. He wanted to marry [Name] [Surname].

***

Johnathan yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, as he walked over to the front door after hearing the mad series of knocking on the door. It was late, who could be knocking at this time? He opened the door to see Speedwagon standing there, face riddled with nerves as he fidgeted with his hat. 

“Speedwagon? What’s wrong? Has something happened?” were the first things that left Johnathan’s lips. For Speedwagon to be here at this late hour, something must be worrying the blonde man. Speedwagon nodded his head then shook it, unsure of how to phrase his words. 

“Yes, I-I mean no, nothing’s wrong. I need some help.” Johnathan stepped aside, allowing him to enter and closed the door behind him then led him into the living room. Johnathan took a seat beside his friend, waiting for him to speak. 

“You know how me and [Name] have been together for a while now?” Johnathan nodded, keeping quiet as Speedwagon spoke. Whatever it was that was bothering Speedwagon, it was certainly something important for him to come knocking at this time of night. 

“I... I want to ask [Name] to marry me.” Under normal circumstances, Speedwagon would have tried to work through this himself but he was nervous. He has never felt this way about anyone before and he wanted to make [Name] see how special she was to him. Yet, he needed guidance. An upbringing in Ogre Street was not a place where romance bloomed, it was a place people avoided like the plague. Some women would stand on the corner and charge for a cheap thrill. And he refused to use the things his own father taught him of love to ask for [Name]’s hand in marriage. 

Speedwagon needed help with this. And who else to go to for advice other than the man who’s heart was made of gold and his soul as pure as holy water?

Johnathan smiled. The fact Speedwagon had travelled all the way from London -which was no short journey, even by carriage- to ask for advice was something he felt honoured by. 

“That is amazing news, Speedwagon. But what is the issue?” the young man asked with confusion on his face at the question. If Speedwagon wanted to marry [Name], what was the problem? 

“I... I don’t know what to do.” Speedwagon admitted, seeming to be almost embarrassed about that. “i know I need a ring and all that but I don’t know how to show her how special she is to me. I want her to know just how important she is to me.” Johnathan gave his friend a warm, comforting smile, like a parent teaching their child an important lesson of life. 

“That is simple,” he said, earning a look from the blonde man, “Tell her.” he made it sound so simple. “Make her feel like the only woman in the world, a dinner maybe. Tell her how your heart beats for her and how you feel about her. And then, when the moment is right, ask her.” 

Speedwagon blinked once then twice. He made it sound so simple as breathing. How the hell could he make it sound so simple? “B-But, how?” Johnathan smiled, resting his hand on Speedwagon’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. 

“I cannot tell you that. You know [Name] better than anyone else, do what you know she will love.” Johnathan was right. Speedwagon knew [Name]. What she loved, what she hated, all the little details that seem irrelevant but she was anything but that to him. Like a crushing weight had been released, Speedwagon sat upright straight, eyes widening when he realised he was right. 

He turned to his friend, wrapping his arms around him and thanking him like the God he was before dashing off, giving his best to Erina and leaving with a bright smile on his lips. Johnathan smiled, pleased that he had been able to help Speedwagon on his way and wished him the best of luck.

***

Ever since Speedwagon had gotten back from his trip to Johnathan’s house, [Name] had not seen him as often as he was occupied with important jobs, which she understood and held no grudge with. Being the leader of a gang of thugs may sound unpleasant to many but she knew it was no simple task, the long nights and tending to any injuries he had was evidence of that. 

However, one day, Speedwagon had gotten home earlier with a bright smile on his face. He had told her that tomorrow night he was going to treat her to something special. He didn’t say what, he only told her to wear something lovely and prepare for a wonderful night. 

So here she sat in the living room, her beautiful [Colour] dress on, [Hair colour] locks tied into a lovely plate, waiting for her lover. A knock at the door had caught her by surprise but she answered to find one of Speedwagon’s closest friends, dressed as formal as he could, and giving her a bow when she answered, motioning to the carriage. 

“Your carriage awaits, m’lady.” [Name] giggled lightly at this. When Speedwagon said he was going to make her feel special, she wasn’t expecting this. She followed his friend to the carriage and he opened the door for her, helping her up then closing it behind her. 

The carriage ride was short as he took her to a small clearing in the woods close to the town, a place [Name] and Speedwagon often visited to spend time together and to get away from the worries of the world. It had become their special place. 

When she stepped out of the carriage and saw the trail of rose petals leading up towards the clearing, her heart bloomed at it. Once she reached the clearing, a small gasp of awe escaped her. The tree they often laid under was decorated with candle-lit lamps, creating a soft, warm environment. Under the tree was a table set up, decorated with more rose petals, as well as flowers as a whole, and a couple of candles. It was beautiful. 

She saw her lover standing beside the tree, dressed in his best suit that he only wore for special occasions, along with his best hat, with a warm smile on his lips. He approached her and took her hands into his, pressing a loving kiss on her lips. 

“I’m glad you made it. You look stunning.” he told her, dusting her cheeks red slightly. Even after being with him for so long, he could still make her blush. 

“Thank you, you look dashing tonight, my love.” she replied with, making him smile before he led her towards the table, where a meal was already waiting for them. The pair ate, making small talk as they did, all the while Speedwagon looked at her with that expression of a man struck by Cupid’s Arrow. 

Once they had finished dinner, Speedwagon took a breath before standing up and walking over to her, taking her hands into his and lifting her to her feet. [Name] looked at him, his hold was gentle, loving, as was his gaze as he looked into her [Eye colour] orbs. 

“[Name], my love,” he spoke, his hand caressing her cheek slightly, “I don’t know what good I did to deserve you, and frankly, I don’t care. All I care about is seeing you smile each day. Seeing you happy is something that I can never replace because there is no greater treasure for me.” he told her, his voice soft yet serious. He didn’t read from a paper before she arrived, he was letting these words fall straight from his heart and soul, because that was where [Name] belong to him. 

“I would die a happy man knowing that you were happy, safe and healthy. I would do everything in my power to keep you safe, even if I have to fight my way through Hell, I’ll do it if it meant I could be by your side.” As he spoke, one hand released hers and slowly reached into his pocket before he lowered himself down onto one knee, pulling a small box from his pocket. 

His hazel brown eyes locked with hers as he opened the box to reveal the most beautiful ring [Name] has ever seen before. “And I would be honoured if you would allow me to call you my wife. [Name] [Surname], will you marry me?” 

Tears pricked her [Eye colour] eyes at this, her heart drumming against her rib-cage, ready to burst from her chest. H-He... He was asking her to... Before she could stop herself, the tears trickled down her cheeks, catching Speedwagon off-guard. 

“I-I do... I mean, yes. I will marry you, Robert.” she spoke through the small tears, easing any panic that threatened to rupture inside him. Speedwagon rose up, picking her up and wrapping her in a tight, loving embrace. His own tears threatening to spill as he pulled away, gently slipping the ring onto her finger.

Finally, after so long of dreaming about it, thinking about it and wishing for it, his dream had come true. [Name] [Surname] was now going to be his wife. 

The two lovers stood there, arms wrapped around each other as they shared a loving kiss; their first kiss as engaged lovers and soon to be husband and wife.