#there's this rush of emotion that i have no way of handling and i plummet into their disappointment

[lynxalon]

there is something to be said

days pass nights pass

but this remains

there is something to be said

it rings ceaselessly in my head

weeks pass months pass

but this doesn't change

there—where is it, why is it there—is something—something, but what? a feeling? emotion? thought? ideal? dream—to be said—how could this ambiguous amalgamation, this monstrosity of feeling both powerful and unkind, be said in any worthwhile capacity

there is something to be said

you watch it pass i feel it pass

but we won't—remain/change

[hobidreams]

november 1869.

to remember what has been lost; to protect what still remains.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama. words: 2.4k contains: descriptions of blood/death, a reckoning.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 26. start from the beginning?

Before Queen Jeonghui’s tomb, you stand with hands bowed in reverence, mind laden with warm memories as sticks of incense burn above your fingertips.

“We all miss you, daebi-mama. I hope you are resting well,” you murmur, letting the smoke mingle with your breath in the air as you bow, deeply. “Happy birthday.”

A little ways away, the single guard that accompanies you is also offering his thoughts to the raised, grassy mound that the queen lies beneath. You’re glad it’s Myungho to come with you today. He’s a good man, one who allows you as much freedom as possible. He understands your need to escape sometimes. Nearby, the horses you rode here are grazing on the field, quietly snorting as their tails swish from side to side.

As you look upon the tomb, you wonder wistfully if mother has found the queen in the spirit world. If they’re playing the game of janggi they so loved in life, when both could find the rare time to continue their decade-long (friendly) rivalry while indulging in cups of strong, dark tea. The thought brings a smile to your face even as fresh tears fall at the remembrance.

In your peripheral vision, you see a swish of fabric, the sign of someone approaching. You give one last bow and slot your incense in the traditional tray, realizing it must be time to leave before it gets too cold and your limbs begin to freeze even under the layers of clothes. You must go back eventually, you know it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

But when you turn, the man that stands beside you wears royal robes — the scarlet fabric and golden dragons unmistakable.

“Jeonha?”

The king’s face holds only sorrow as he holds matching incense in his hands. Staring straight ahead, he bends into a bow, dipping his head repeatedly low, low, lower until he’s almost on the dying, waterlogged grass with it, the lit grey tips flickering in the wind as they are nearly doused from the force of his movements. He bites his lip hard, so hard he draws blood as he punishes his own legs with the bows but he doesn’t stop.

You watch him with emotion clinging to your throat, but you swallow the questions you want to ask as you swipe at your wet cheeks. Why are you here? Why did you change your mind? How are you? Are you okay? All these impertinent questions are for you, to satisfy your own curiosity, and that’s not what he needs right now.

Quietly, steadily, you wait until he has finally stuck in the incense in the memorial ash. You wait until he opens his eyes, red-rimmed as they are, and finds your gaze.

“I… decided at the last moment,” he murmurs. “You… were right. I had to see her.”

You nod. Think you understand everything else he means as well, even if he’s left it unspoken. “Me too.”

“She would have liked that you’re here.”

That simple sentence threatens another wave of nostalgia and longing. You let it pull you under. Sink yourself into it. The mourning, the grief. And the love. The love that was there. The love that still remains, the traces of it held in you both. Your fingers twitch with a sudden, daring want to take his hand. To meet your palms and find the warmth and the life pulse that beats so closely, so resolutely just beneath the surface despite all this pain and all this loss. If you could just reach out. If you could just take another risk…

“Jeonha, run!”

The scream comes from the hill behind you. You both whirl.

The head of the royal guard comes running over with his sword drawn. His teeth are grit, hair blown from the wind that sweeps through the grass, rippling. His blade is already stained with a color that makes your stomach lurch at the implication.

“Hoseok— What’s going on?” The king yells back.

“Rebels! An ambush. We don’t have enough men!”

These few seconds are all the warning you get.

An incredible roar of voices comes exploding up and then you see them. The thick crowd of men that come surging over the hill, fighting their way towards you. The unforgettable clatter of metal on metal desecrates this once-sacred ground. Your legs go soft as you panic, scrambling. You’re trying not to watch as guards and rebels alike are cut down, but the enemies are steadily advancing still. What should you do? Where should you go?

“Myungho, get the horses!” The king barks out. But one look at the steeds tells you that they’re frightened, rearing back as men descend upon them. They’re off, running away on instinct to preserve their own lives while damning yours.

“Jeonha, what are your orders?” Myungho’s grip on his weapon is tight.

“Go. Help Hoseok.”

“Yes, jeonha!”

But as the battle wears on, the dread in you only grows. The king’s men are skilled, but it seems there were only a few to begin with. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers, yelling for jeonha to escape but he doesn’t move. You don’t know what to do. You are at a complete loss, standing beside him with fingers growing steadily numb. You have to do something. You— You can’t just let it end here, at the hands of these men bellowing with violence and anger and pain.

“Jeonha, w-we have to run,” you stutter, forcing yourself to move, tugging at the fabric of his robes. But when you look back at the opposite side, your only escape route, a throng of rebels come scattering across the grass. Cutting you off; rendering you helpless.

“Myungho, cover the rear!” Hoseok spits out as he takes down another three by himself, the quick whip of his blade reflecting a beam of sun. But even he, with two other guards in front, cannot hold all of them off, though there are less of the rebels now that remain standing.

Caught in the middle, you can only watch your allies strain and sweat. In your heart, you promise desperately that you heal them in the end, if only they will hold on now.

With an awful cry, one of the guards hits the ground and a rebel uses that chance. Breaks through the line of defense and charges right towards you both.

“Fuck the king!” He yells, his face smeared with dirt, his sword raised as his bare feet trip upon the grass but he just keeps coming somehow and you have no weapons and you have no shields but the very first instinct, the most primal one you have is to throw yourself in front of the king and take his pain for him and—

Hoseok dispatches the rebel from behind just as you move a single step forward.

“You…” The king’s voice is hoarse. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at you, at what you just did. Then he’s shoving you aside and stooping to pick up the abandoned sword from the ground.

You realize what he means when he sweeps up his sleeves, adjusts his grip on the worn handle. “Wait, no, jeonha, you cannot—”

“Stay behind me.”

“I cannot allow you to—”

“Do not argue with me.”

Again, he leaves you with no choice but to watch his back.

Fear pounds away in your body like a thousand drums, thunder booming through the pulse of your clenched heart in your ears as the king takes a first brutal swing at an enemy. Somewhat out of practice against the towering man, he’s shoved back by the sheer force of the clash, feet skidding across the wet grass but he refuses to yield. Stubborn as he always is, he rushes in again only to be pushed back. Again.

The king tilts his blade, slices it quick only to have one sent right back at him, barely missing his shoulder by an inch. He doesn’t even flinch as he stands firm. Adapts in the moment and tries a new strategy, a new tactic that has him spinning, robes fluttering in the winter air as his shuddering breath comes out in a puff of white and ends in a fury of red. And again. And again until finally, finally, only the strongest of the rebels remain standing with the few allies you left, along with your brutal, bloodied king.

Before you, all the men are panting, open mouthed, every last one of them desperate for a victory that spells the doom of the other.

“Come on then,” the king goads, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a show of nonchalance even though he’s obviously fatigued. “Attack.”

“You little shit!”

This man is enormous, easily a head above the king and he’s strong, muscles bulging from his torn tunic as he thrusts the sword ahead with surprising speed. The quick rush of air slices through two layers of robes, splitting the dirtied fabric open as the king narrowly escapes without a new scar. But his return stab doesn’t meet a mark and he’s slow on the rebound, steps lost some of the agility he had at the start.

Please. Please, you beg to whatever god may be listening, don’t let him die. But that rebel seems to have an endless strength as he forces the king back, meets him blow for blow for blow and you are so worried, terrified you’re going to see his last moments like this. Like this you will have been with him until the end just like you once stupidly wished. You’re so caught up you don’t realize what’s going on behind you.

“Su-uinyeo-nim! Watch out!” Myungho’s voice cracks as he cries your name, but you turn too slow. Myungho’s on the ground and the rebel that beat him is sprinting towards you, savagery in his scowl, his crude axe already suspended in mid-swing, just a few more steps, just one more shove to land right across your heart and you, you who has never held a weapon before in her life, you who has lived to heal and mend instead of hurt, what can you do right now but die?

“No!”

The scream is hoarse, a furious sound matched with a rush of robes that whip past your own.

You peel open your eyes in time to watch the king take the axe blow meant for you with his left arm. Despite his bark of pain, he swings with his right in exchange and it’s enough. The rebel falls, his axe plummeting uselessly beside him. Then the king falters too, sword clattering down as he finally drops to his knees.

“Jeonha!” You scramble to him. “Oh god, oh god, jeonha, why did you do that— Jeonha, how could you do such a thing? Jeonha!” You part the stained robes, stomach churning at the raw sight of his sacrifice. “We need to fetch you help. You need medicine, oh god, oh god.” This is panic like you’ve never felt it before as you look around, as if some miracle could occur, as if it hasn’t already occurred by the fact that you’re both still alive.

To one side, Hoseok is alone, gasping hard with the enormous rebel lying prone beside him, evidently having finished him off. Myungho has a gash running down his side, but he’s crawling towards you both still with a hand pressed to his wound for pressure. There is no one else. You have to do this on your own. You have to calm the hell down.

Using the nearby sword, you force yourself to focus and stop shaking as you cut strips of the inner layer of your skirt. You have to save his arm even as nausea swims in your mind, nerves making you want to empty your stomach.

“Hah...” The king’s chest lurches as he struggles for air. His eyes are hazy but he manages to fix them on you, as if to ground himself. “You’re… safe?”

Nodding frantically, you start to wrap the cloth around him, willing your fingers not to slip. “I-It’s deep, jeonha. Your wound is so deep.” You’re quietly sobbing as you tie the makeshift bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding. How could he be thinking of you at a time like this? It must hurt excruciatingly so, yet he is still trying to be strong.

Beside you, Hoseok is carrying Myungho’s weight, using the extra cloth to help his ally with his limited medical training.

“…Hoseok.” The king sucks in another long breath. “They… Those rebels were peasants, weren’t they?”

“Yes, jeonha… I think they were.”

He accepts this knowledge silently as you finish your preliminary treatment, but lack the resources to do anything else. You stare at the fresh red seeping through the flimsy cloth and hope desperately that it will be enough for now, until one of you can return to the palace and gather reinforcements to take you home. Feeling your fingers stop, he immediately tries to move his arm but winces, bites his lip at the sudden jolt.

“Don’t move, please,” you instantly say.

The king huffs a long, exhausted sigh as he sinks into the ground. Lets the tension seep out of him, though likely not by choice. His dark eyes flicker to the tomb briefly before they slide closed, the scar ever slashed startlingly crimson across the right side. Despite his best attempts, he is still winded, depleted. Human, after all. After all of this.

You brush matted strands of light hair away from his forehead, and pat at the drops of sweat that linger and prove how hard he pushed himself to fight. He shifts into your touch like a stray animal, allowing you take care of him for once without argument until his breaths even some, settling only in your arms.

“It seems it’s been a long time,” he says softly after a moment, his eyes remaining shut.

“Since?”

“Since I’ve protected someone.”

Your pulse catches. Blood thrums through you as you whisper, “but you did.” Your voice is viscous with relief, and gratitude. “You did.”

Only now do you dare to reach for his hand, to lend him some of your strength, even though you have seen again just how much of it he already holds in himself.

Wrapped in your warmth, he squeezes back just the once. Lets you know he is here, he is here, he is here with you still.

a/n: because i could never forget the way he wielded that sword in the mv. so... how you feel about our king now?

[theresthesnitch]

Heey! How r u doing? A few days ago I came across to fic (or was it a prompt?) of yours. It was a one shot single mum Lily AU. I think she and James were together and had a kid but he didn't know about it. So a few years later they got together again but James doesn't want to k own about her kid. It was something like that, I don't remember quite well. So I told myself I'm gonna read it later, so later has come and I can't find it anywhere. Where can I find it? Did u delete it? Thanks 😘

Hi darling! That fic is still a WIP so it’s not posted anywhere. And what you and I are both calling a one-shot is currently 16k and not done, so it may end up being chaptered after all.

You can find all the snippets I’ve posted under the tag #one last time (never enough) either through that link or by clicking the tag on this post. (Hopefully the link works!)

I’ve actually worked on this recently, though, so how about one more snippet of it?

(Context for anyone not familiar: James and Lily are separated by the war, and Lily finds out she’s pregnant just after she goes into hiding. Lily comes back 5 years later with a kid, and James doesn’t handle it well. This is a party shortly after Lily’s return.)

***

Inevitably, they ended up coming together on the side of the room. Lily felt like she had been drawn there, not really intending to find him but suddenly looking up and seeing James in front of her. James watched her come toward him, knowing she wasn’t aware of his presence, and yet he couldn’t move to avoid her. His feet were locked to the ground as his heart pulled her in and–

“Hi, James.”

His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t have spoken if he wanted to. The words were weighed down by emotions and alcohol and something that tied knots in his stomach. Instead, he just looked at her for a moment. She was wearing the dress he had always loved, and she looked somehow better than he even remembered.

His lungs burned, and he hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath until it came out in a rush. “Evans.”

She pressed her lips together, pretending like James reverting to calling her by her last name didn’t hurt. It was fine. Perhaps that was her question answered, then. He didn’t still love her.

James cleared his throat. “You look lovely tonight. I’m not sure if you always looked this good or if I’m just not used to being around you anymore.” His cheeks, which were already rosy from the drink or the heat, colored darker. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Maybe I should stop drinking.”

James turned to set his drink down, and Lily took the chance with his eyes turned away to find her balance again. Being around James was like being on a rollercoaster. As soon as she settled into the smooth ride up, she was thrown over the edge and plummeted to the ground.

James took a deep breath before turning back to her, hoping to somehow keep the swooping sensation from taking over him every time that he looked at her. It didn’t work. Instead he was nearly knocked back by the way her eyes were shining at him and— “I missed you, Lily.”

The words were quiet, so quiet that Lily wasn’t sure she heard them. Except the silence that hung between them was full of tension. James wasn’t sure where the words came from (probably from the alcohol that now functioned as blood in his body), and he wasn’t sure how he hoped she would respond. He wouldn’t blame her if she just walked away.

“I missed you, too, James.”

They both thought, separately, that this moment could make or break them. Ever-confident James froze with indecision. Anxiety-driven Lily wondered if it was too much or too far.

James moved first, he was fairly certain, though Lily thought they might have moved at the same time. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him. Their lips met, and it was… it was…

It was like a missing piece slotting into place. It was like finally solving the equation. They fit perfectly, heartbreakingly perfectly, and they both wondered if they would be strong enough for whatever that meant.

James broke the kiss but didn’t release her hand. Instead, he pulled her behind him through the house and back into the room that he slept in when he stayed with the lads after drinking too much. Luckily no one from the party had wandered back there, so James locked the door behind them and turned back to Lily.

Lily followed James, half holding her breath and expecting it to go bad. He led the way through the crowd and back to a door she didn’t even know existed ten minutes ago. He pulled her inside, locked the door, and turned to look at her.

This is a bad idea, they thought, though neither dared to voice it. One last time. One last time will be enough.

[bangfantanfic]

Our Own World: Chapter 4

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, restrictions/COVID

Type: Hybrid/Yandere/Romance/Fluff/Angst

Authors Note: Hey~ again, so sorry I took so longI apologise! I hope you guys enjoy. As usual, I’d you’d like to be tagged for future updates, DM or comment 🥰

“As cases continue to rise officials have announced as of 12am tonight a nationwide lockdown will be enforced.” 

Six pairs of eyes were glued to the large screen, most of them worried-- yours however only showed off pure irritation. 

“-- in order to minimise rising case numbers President Moon announced a country wide travel ban. Non Korean residents will have paid flights back to their home country, Korean residents outside the country will not be let back in until further notice--” 

Your stomach plummeted. You're stuck here for as long as your brother is stuck in the Netherlands.. 

“Y/N?” 

You could hear the men around you calling out to you, but it sounded muffled, like your head was under water. 

The five men around you were panicking at your frozen state, you were like a statue-- even Jeongguk was unable to hide his worry.

Taehyung was sitting by your feet whining, his arms wrapped around his own torso. He had tried to hug your legs, wanting to provide some comfort to your shaking form but Namjoon had nudged him away, sending a warning look before crouching by your side and trying to pull your attention back. 

“Y/N, you need to breathe--relax.” He cooed, his hands balled into fists on his thighs. It was taking all his energy to not reach out and touch you, to hold you and promise everything was okay. “Jay will be fine, he’s safe with Mila.” 

Unfortunately, the boy's sweet attempts to console you only made you feel worse. They didn’t know you were panicking about being here longer. They thought you were worried for your brother's safety. 

But you were only worried about your own.

“Y/N, do you think I could come to the store with you?” Seokjin’s voice asked shyly, his hands tightly gripping one another. “I just thought since I know the boys well— and my ah, physical differences are easier to hide—“  

You raised an eyebrow, smirking at the babbling hybrid. You had grown much more confident with the polar bear hybrid, and even a few of the others thanks to being locked in 24/7. You had still yet to meet Hoseok and Yoongi, and Jeongguk was more than happy to keep as much distance from you as humanly possible, but otherwise, you were somewhat comfortable in your surroundings for once. 

The few occasions you were able to leave the house was to get groceries and other essentials, but otherwise being caught out of the house without solid reasoning would land you a hefty fine and you weren’t exactly financially stable enough to pay thousands of dollars. 

Your brother had been in contact with you, making sure the boys were all doing fine and that you were coping with the news and long term adjustment. He had been supplying you money, and you weren’t sure where he was getting it from. His clinic had been shut since he left the country so it wasn’t from there, but you were too deep in your self pity to question it.  

“Sure, I don’t see why no—“ 

“No fair. If Jin Hyung can go out I wanna too!” Taehyung whined, appearing from thin air. His dark hair hung over his eyes, still dripping from his shower. 

“Your tail is too noticeable.” Jin shrugged, wrapping a long arm over your tiny shoulders. 

The brunette glared at the blond, stomping over to pull you away. Lightly grabbing the pocket of your white hoodie and tugging you into his chest. You wriggled, trying to pull out of his grip but it only seemed to make it tighten. 

“You’re always selfish with her!” The younger complained, resting his chin on the crown of your head.

A dramatic groan came from behind you as Jin, no doubtedly, rolled his eyes at the monkey's words. “I can’t help it if I’m her favourite.” 

Taehyung stiffened. You could feel him grinding his teeth, the sound of his teeth dragging made you feel nauseous. 

“She doesn’t have favourites.” Namjoon cut in, carefully pulling you out of the monkey's arms and wrapping his own around your shoulder. “And Jin Hyung is right, your tail is too noticeable.” 

Taehyung’s wide eyes narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re the only one who can’t keep it still!” He argued. 

Namjoon’s face flushed pink, his jaw jutting out. It was true. Like animals, hybrids often displayed their emotions and moods through tail movements, and while the others had passed with flying colours in emotional control, Namjoon had always struggled. 

“Be that as it may, we can’t risk it. Hyung will go with Y/N and help pick out foods best suited to each of us.” He said sternly, sounding confident despite the pink tinge to his round cheeks. 

You smiled apologetically at the monkey hybrid. He was clearly biting his tongue, arms tightly crossed and eyes squinting. 

“Fine. But when you get back Y/Nie is playing with me.” 

Grocery shopping had always been easy. You only had yourself to think of, but now you had seven others depending on you. You weren’t sure about allergies, or even just what everyone liked and disliked. 

You still needed to get around to those files… 

Thankfully your brother had left behind a card for shopping, knowing your pathetic bank account would ever be able to handle more than one shop. 

With Seokjin leaning on the handles of the shopping cart he directed you where to go, what to grab all while letting you browse and pick out your own snacks. 

“Yoongi and Hobi will be joining us tonight, I’ll need to get more meat. Yoongi practically inhales it.” The hybrid sighed, voicing his thoughts aloud. 

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling softly at the sight of Seokjin. He was dressed comfortably, washed out blue jeans, a white sweater and a red cap. Round glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as he read over packaging, his plump lips pouting as he considered every item. 

“Do you think we could get lamb, Y/N?” He piqued up, dropping three packets of snacks into the cart before waddling to catch up to you. 

“I don’t see why not, it’s my brothers card after all.” You shrugged, grinning. You held back a laugh as his cheeks turned pink, attempting to hide the bright colour he rushed forward to avoid your gaze. 

You had noticed the boys were all easily flustered, you found it funny. Sometimes Jimin or Jin tried to say something flirty, and when you countered back the two turned red and made excuses to run away. Sometimes you just had to talk to them and their faces would turn redder than an apple. 

Taehyung was a little more difficult, most of the time he was rather clueless with what he said, or at least that’s how he played it off to be. 

Namjoon just didn’t try. He just preferred to leave cute gifts for you on your bed; Flowers he had grown that were in season, fruits and clumsily made origami. 

Jeongguk completely avoided you, and Taehyung the little asshole, made sure to tell you the youngest hybrid liked you, telling you how the youngest was always staring at you or asking his brothers about what you were doing. 

“The look that the cashier gave you was so rude!” Seokjin huffed, closing the passenger door. 

You rolled your eyes, starting the car. You didn’t blame the poor girl, you had bought so much food it caused a huge back up, the line running down the isles . You couldn’t even look at the cashier, too embarrassed. 

The car ride was pretty quiet, the only sounds were Seokjin humming along to the radio and the crinkling from the candy packet. He seemed to be deep in thought, and as much as you wanted to ask what was on his mind you forced your mouth to stay shut. 

Sure, you were somewhat comfortable around him and you assumed he was comfortable around you, but you knew that there wasn’t any friendship foundation, you had no right to pick around his brain— no matter how intrigued you were. 

So you stayed silent, while the hybrid beside you happily chewed away at the gummy bears he had begged for. 

As your brother’s neighbourhood approached, Seokjin finally decided to talk. He wriggled around until he was angled enough to look over your smaller body. 

He thought you were pretty. Very pretty.

The way you smelt was enchanting, always leaving him dizzy and fumbling for words, just like now. 

He felt like a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing, eyebrows pulled together in frustration as he tried to spit out words, any words. Just something so he didn’t look like an idiot for another second. 

“Don’t freak out.” 

When your head shot over, a crack sounding from the joints making him cringe, he wanted to melt into his seat. He felt his neck and cheeks turn red, an awkward laugh forced passed his lips. 

“Sorry— sorry. I just meant, don’t let Yoongi make you feel uncomfortable.” He clarified, mentally kicking his abrupt outburst. When you raised an eyebrow he took it as a signal to continue. 

“Yoongi can be stiff?” He paused, considering his words. “He can be two ways, blunt and sort of arrogant— which he isn’t I promise!” 

“Or, he’s cocky and imposing. He’ll try to push your buttons, find out what makes you uncomfortable or mad.” He explained, clicking his tongue as he thought. “But don’t worry, Hoseok and Namjoon keep him in line.” 

When the car fell silent Seokjin felt his veins turn to ice. The last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable, or scared. He’d leave yoongi out in the cages before he allowed that. 

“I grew up with Jay, I’m immune to annoying boys.” 

The smile on your lips, although forced, relaxed him slightly. You really seemed to be trying, even if it wasn’t for them and more so for your brother, he appreciated it. It made his insides feel like marshmallows. 

He watched your fingers tap on the grip of the steering wheel, your lips sucked in thin between your teeth as you thought. A cute habit of yours Jin had picked up on almost instantly. 

“I’ll be next to you, I won’t leave your side!” He promised, a hand over his heart and the other up in the air. “Scouts honour— and I can say that.” 

The proud grin on his plush lips made you break out into a small smile of your own. 

“And the other boy?” 

Seokjin dropped a red candy into his mouth, chewing twice before speaking. “Hoseok?” He looked to you for confirmation, seeing your curt nod he continued. 

“Hobi is playful, he gets along well with the younger boys. He can be a bit much, he’s loud. But he’s a good guy, you don’t have to worry about him.” 

“Hoseok— oh for Christ’s sake! Get off! All of you out, they’ll be back any minute now!” 

Namjoon’s scolding voice could be heard throughout the entire house, not that it mattered. Everyone was gathered in the one tiny space. 

The tiny office space that had been converted into a makeshift bedroom was bursting at its seams with the six men all huddled in. 

The youngest three, Jeongguk, Taehyung and Jimin had snuck in to play on the PC’s while you were missing. Jimin hadn’t been interested in playing, so instead he took the chance to snoop through your belongings. 

Hoseok, lonely after a week of separation, found his brothers quickly. But his original mission, finding the maknaes, was abandoned the moment your scented room hit his senses. Your perfume and natural musk stuck to everything in the room, almost as if you had lived in the space your whole life. 

It was mouth watering. 

Ignoring Jimin, who watched the bigger hybrid worriedly, Hoseok joined in the snooping. Mostly just looking through books and sniffing sweaters before getting bored and collapsing onto the fold out bed, an excited laugh filling the quiet room as he rolled over the unmade sheets. 

It didn’t take long for Hoseok and Jimin arguing over the small bed to wake up Yoongi. But unfortunately he got to the mess a little late, arriving just as Namjoon did. The younger boy practically tore out his hair as he tried to remove his pack from the room. 

Failing, obviously. 

The situation was quite funny to the sleepy hybrid. Yoongi’s snickering was infuriating the Wolf hybrid further, his anger and panic almost over powering the soft feminine smell that you had left behind. 

“— Jeongguk you know you aren’t supposed to be in here! Taehyung, you’re supposed to be making sure he doesn’t cause trouble, not helping!” Namjoon groaned, head in palms. 

The youngest two barely looked away from the screens, their eyes only momentarily flickering over to Namjoon. So instead Jimin piped up, stepping out from behind the much taller hybrid. 

“We just thought since she was gone we could take advantage—“

“You thought it would be okay to sneak through someone’s personal belongings!?” 

The fox hybrid turned bright pink, his ears flattening to the top of his head. Guilt flooded his features as he practically dislocated his fingers behind his back. 

“That wasn’t my intention—“ 

Their leader was livid, and not even for being disobeyed. He was familiar with the feeling— jealousy. They all smelt like you, and now your room smelt of them. 

You smelt like someone other than him— and to make it worse, your musk had been mixed with multiple other male hybrids. It made his stomach churn. 

“Your intentions don’t matter anymore.” He snapped, pointing to the door where Yoongi rested. “Out, all of you.” 

Not a single person made an effort to move, all five pairs of eyes locked on their leader almost as if they were daring him to try and remove the group. The whole situation was amusing to Yoongi who still hadn’t said a word to his brothers, just watched everything as he usually did. 

But the sound of your tires crunching on the gravel driveway sent the boys flying for the front door before an argument could breakout, much to his disappointment. 

Yoongi and Jeongguk were the only two that waited in the living room, not reacting to your arrival with enthusiasm. 

“Y/N! You’re home!” Taehyung cheered, running out the front door, ignoring the stinging pain of the sharp rocks stabbing into his bare feet. 

Before the monkey hybrid could pull you into his body for a hug he was yanked to a halt by Jin. 

“Help with the bags first.” He scolded, shoving the heavier bags into the younger boy's arms. 

Whining Taehyung obeyed, his knuckles turning white as he practically ran to dump the bags in the kitchen. Namjoon and Jimin followed in Taehyung's direction, arms full with heavy bags until everything was unpacked. 

 It was after everything was put away where it needed to be that Taehyung engulfed you in his arms, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. He was breathing in so heavily you felt like the boy was about to inhale your skin. 

“You were gone for so long--” He paused, his arms tightening on you as he shuffled around. Your back was now facing everyone so Taehyung could glare at his elder. “You hogged her on purpose!” 

Seokjin groaned, the younger boy's accusation not even bothering him. He knew his brothers had grown attached to their temporary carer. He was however beginning to worry that everyone was experiencing the same feelings. Your original four weeks of house sitting was officially up tomorrow, and he felt selfish knowing you were stuck here until the government decided otherwise, and not only their government but the Netherlands too. 

He had been so excited the moment he heard you step out the car. The moment your car tires had stopped crunching on gravel and your door swung open the strong scent of Spring hit him-- despite it being WInter. You smelt fresh, like flowers and pollen, and yet sweet like sugar. You smelt perfect. 

The first time he saw you, the night you come out with their meals he almost dropped to his knees to worship you. Long (H/C), wavy hair hung down your back, messy and slightly knotted from your hands attacking it. Your glasses were dangerously low on your nose as you struggled to drag the chunk of elk meat across the ground. Your lips were pouted, but he could tell that even if you weren’t sulking they would look nearly the same. You were pretty like a doll. Small, petite shoulders and rounded hips and plush thighs he dreamed of falling asleep on. 

You were perfect, and his. 

Until he realised, maybe you weren’t just for him. 

[bakugohoex]

congratulations on 1k oh my goodness!! may i please request jean with “it’s you, it’s always been you”? congrats again and keep up the good work💞

“it’s you, it’s always been you”

pairing: jean kirchstein x female reader

cw: mentions of blood, fluff

word count: ​1500+

a/n: thank you so much my lovely, and i hope you enjoyed this little oneshot

summary: in which after your own near death experience, jean realises that he needs you to know just how much he loves you

1k event masterlist

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

His fingers stayed firm in your blood coated hair, the way you were going in and out of consciousness. Waiting for death to arrive and take you away from the hell hole of the walls, “Y/n, come on, stay with me.” Jean’s voice felt like a distant memory as you finally dozed off in the back of the cart.

Jean eyed your frail body, you had been hit by a titan, plummeting you into the ground, just as it was about to eat you. Jean had killed it but the way it had held your nimble body, the way it squeezed you its hands ready to devour you made Jean sick. If he had been a couple seconds late you’d be fine, his love, his crush, his friend would disappear without a trace. Jean held you in his arms, feeling how you were still breathing on top of him. Blood from your head spilled out, and he knew you’d need stitches to help you out.

If it wasn’t such a public space with Eren and Mikasa sitting on the other side and Armin and Levi on horses. He would have cried, sobbed even into you, he wanted to but the feeling you’d see him vulnerable at the sight of your limp state would make you worry even more. “Jean is she doing okay?” Armin questioned from his horse, holding the light up to get a better view of you across Jean’s legs.

“She’s still breathing, just o…out.” He choked up at the last word, Armin gave a soft smile knowing not to ask anymore questions. Levi looked sternly at how Jean held you, how you had moved your horse to get the titan to follow you instead of your captain. You were a stupid brat for doing that, knowing he was going to have give you some sort of punishment for your ill actions.

Jean kept you firm, your head nestled between his arms as he whispered stuff into your ear, “If…if this is the only time I get to say this Y/n, then I love you and if…if I ever lost you I don’t know what I’d do.” He continued on with his confession of love, glad you were unaware of it all. Glad that once you got the proper help you needed within the walls you’d never remember this conversation.

Jean watched the doors open to Trost, in a matter of seconds a medic came and took your limp body, if Jean hadn’t known you were breathing he'd assume you were just another corpse ready to be buried. He went to follow the medic, needing to make sure you were safe, but Levi stopped him in a matter of seconds. “She’ll be fine, and we need to re-group.”

“But…yes sir.” Jean easily saw the glare Levi had given as he followed the group, he turned back to just see the glimpse of your scathed leg before you were taken away to a bed.

How could he attend a meeting to regroup and talk about the latest expedition when all he could think about was you. Were you being treated okay? Was there any damage? How long would you be immobilised for? He had stopped paying attention to the meeting, instead staring at the door, as soon as Hanje gave the signal he was going. He was going to find you, okay, with nothing wrong except a little bruising.

He’d see that sweet smile you’d give him with a coy remark, and he’d fall even more head over heels for you. Jean looked at the door with such intensity, Armin had noticed nudging him softly after Hanje had asked a question directed to him. “Sorry, what did you say?” He tried to be apologetic, but his mind was somewhere else.

“Jean we know you want to see her.” Hanje tried to give him a reassuring look as they looked at him with pleading eyes to explain what happened. He tried to do so but his mind couldn’t let him speak, Hanje gave a nod before dismissing him, “go and check on her.”

It was all Jean needed to hear as he ran out of the room, he needed to see you. Needed you to be okay, he rounded the corner meeting the eyes of the civilians of Trost who surrounded the dead. Jean hadn’t realised just how many men had died on this expedition; how many had risked their lives to rid the area of titans for good. It may have been a success after years of trying to gain land back, but the ability to now see the sea freely was evident.

He ignored the passer-bys, tears staining their cheeks as he saw the medic who had handled you with a mother. “Excuse me.” Jean may have been in a rush, but the medic clearly wasn’t, ignoring him, which made Jean even more annoyed. “Hello.” He tapped the man's shoulder which made him turn around to meet the tall boy.

“That girl you took, where is she?” The medic gave a confused look before nodding and bringing some papers out.

“She’s in the next room over.” Jean nodded and before the medic could even ask who he was, Jean was gone. He had seen the tortures of death around him, the families that cried for the fallen soldiers. He finally met the door that held you, he needed to see you, needed you to be alright. Needed to confess, he needed to make sure you were loved and protected.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door, instead brashly entering. He saw you face away looking out at the blue sky of Trost. With land regained and the lack of titans, Jean thought of the security you both could have here. “Y/n.” He spoke hesitantly.

You didn’t turn around still looking outside, he saw the bandage around your head. He didn’t know what to say, your back was facing him, and you might have been asleep for all he knew. Jean moved closer to you, before moving in front of your body. He took the seat that sat in front of your sleeping body, he could hear your breathing and knew you hadn’t had any critical damage. It was now the minor damage that worried him more.

“J..Jean.” You softly whispered, his hand had moved instinctively towards your hair, moving the strands away from your face as he looked at you with love.

“I’m here.” He cupped your face gently looking down at you as he moved away from the chair and on his knees. His face close enough to feel your breathing against him, “Y/n.”

“I’m sorry…I should’ve been looking whe…” Tears welled your eyes at how Jean looked at you, the way he had never expected an apology.

He caressed your face soothingly, “there’s nothing to apologise for, you tried to protect us all, I should be the one apologising…I only just made it to you.”

You moved your face further into Jean’s hands, he tilted his head to see you properly leaning against the small bed. “Thank you for saving me.”

“I’m always going to protect you.” He knew you had no minor problems, the bleeding stopped as you looked fresh and rejuvenated. “I was so worried about you.

“You were?”

“I was, I have to protect you because I’m in love with you.” He whispered the last part out, you had heard it all, even after he had promised himself to hide the confession. Here he was confessing to you of his love.

“I always thought you liked Mika…” He interrupts you with such ease.

Looking up into your eyes, the pools of warmth cascading from them, “It’s you, it’s always been you.” It was heaven to your ears, the sound of his love finally reaching your own. The way he always protectively stood by you, how his hand lingered against yours whenever you both stood together. The way that the love of your life, loved you back.

“I love you too Jean.” You whispered softly, meeting his lips that had been lingering against your own, it was passionate and sweet. Everything you had wanted from a first kiss; emotions ran through you as his hand caressed your cheek lovingly. His lips softly against your own as if they meshed together perfectly. It was a necessity more than a want now, the fact that the boy who had been your first love was now kissing you sent a bolt of electricity throughout you. You saw him give one final haste kiss before his mouth let go of your own still lingering close by as he knew you needed rest.

He stayed near you, his body leaning against the bed as his head was on the bed, his hand in one of your own as he looked up at you with such love. “I’ll always be here.”

“Pinkie promise.” You whispered through your tired state.

He looked down, shaking his head in amusement before nodding, “pinkie promise my love.”

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[a-pretty-nerd]

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter!Reader

Chapter 10

Premis:

When The League of Villains discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you’re in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

A/N:

I hope you guys like this chapter! If you wanna support me further and hang out, check out my Patreon for more of my content and my discord!

Word count: 1,818

Warnings: Minor violence

Chapter 9 Chapter 11

Loud announcement after loud announcement blasted from the speakers as the police spoke. Repeating the same few sentences over and over again. His stomach turned as anxiety took hold of him. Izuku Midoriya stood nearly a block away from the scene as he watched. He and Bakugou were given orders to sit on the perimeter and wait in case they were needed. Having experienced The League before, their assistance was helpful. But everyone was hoping it wouldn't be needed. For now, everyone's top priority was you. Bakugou huffed in frustration, folding his arms across his chest as he watched.

"I don't get it. We should just round them up while we still can. If we don't act fast, they'll slip out of our hands again." He growled.

"Arrest isn't our top priority right now. The hostage's safety is. We can't risk any harm coming to her. You know that." Midoriya answered. The blonde scoffed and spoke again after a long pause.

"I still can't believe it."

"Believe what?"

"That he has a daughter. You'd think he would have mentioned something like that by now. After all these years. Especially one with such a strong quirk."

"Yeah...I don't have kids of my own so, I don't know much about that but...It's odd isn't it? That he never mentioned her. Not even to us." Bakugou thought for a moment.

"Maybe it was the mom. Maybe she kept it that way. We don't know much about her."

"No...that doesn't sit right. Her mom seems intense, sure. But that's his daughter. I don't know about you, but if I had a kid like her, I wouldn't be able to stop talking about her. So, it doesn't make sense why someone like him..."

"They were young, right? About our age?"

"That's right."

"Think about it. If you and Ururaka got pregnant right now, what do you think would happen?"

"Thats different, she's a hero too-"

"No. Really. Think about it. If she told you tomorrow you were gonna have a kid, how would you feel?" Midorya thought for a moment.

"Scared, I guess."

"Would you slow down your hero work? After everything you've done, all the work you've put into this. Would you risk it all to be a proper father? And what about her? Would Ururaka be okay putting her life on hold for that kid? I doubt it."

"I see what you're saying. But that still doesn't explain why we're just finding out about her now."

"I'm sure he was just trying to protect her from shit like this happening. It's clear he still cares for her. It was probably his was of keeping her safe. As messed up as that is."

"I studied All Might my entire life. Became his successor and student. And still...I feel like I never really knew him until now."

"Mh."

"You're still my most valuable player. You're staying right here." Shigaraki's voice purred as his grip tightened around your arm. Pulling you closer to him. You felt your blood quickly rush up to your cheeks. The hot feeling coursing through your veins. You heard the loud squeak of a chair shifting across the floor. Your quirk unwittingly being activated. He ignored the sound, his deep red eyes glaring into yours as his scarred brow bone curved over them in a tight scowl. His eyes, so brilliant and full of passion. You were lost in them. Time always seemed to stop when he did this.

"Boss! We gotta get out of here! We can't fight them all!" Spinner shouted, tearing those eyes away from you. How long had he been starring at you? Was he just as lost as you? You were doubtful. If he was lost in anything, it was probably his rage. His grip on you loosened, slowly dropping your arm almost like he was reluctant to.

"The truck. Is the truck ready?"

"Yes, but I doubt we can get out of here without being caught."

"Of course not. That's why we'll need a distraction. Until then we need time. Toga, the phone, quick." She jumped at the command. Grabbing a smartphone of hers and quickly adjusting it to film. Shigaraki's hands quickly found your body again. But they weren't nearly as harsh as last time, just firm. Man handling you to appear threatening. One hand coming around your neck from behind to display his fingers, and the other around your arm. He pressed you against his body.

"Filming!" Toga shouted.

"You heroes should know better than to just barge into such a delicate situation. The conditions are simple. Make one wrong move, and the girl is dust. I'll even leave her in a pretty little urn for you, hehehe, All Might."

"Cut! Edit and send to the heroes right?"

"And social media, anything to get it on the news. Dabi, Twice, is there a way for you to contact our friends on the outside?"

"But boss! They have us tapped! They'll be prepare for our escape!" Twice shouted.

"They've planned for it already. We've lost the element of surprise. We need results."

"Shigaraki?" You croaked.

"What!?" He shouted in your ear. You winced, holding your free had up to tap at his wrist around your neck.

"Could you, loosen up a bit?" He swiftly pulled his hands away from you. Watching you gently cough and regain your breath.

"We're not, really going to kill her, are we?" Toga pulled her attention away from her phone and shuffled closer to you. Turning to be in-between you and Shigaraki, almost to protect you from being grabbed again.

"No. Not if we plan to get out of here." He and turned sat down on the couch, his hands coming up to rub against his sore neck. Toga patted your back.

"You alright there? You're burning up. You're not sick are you?"

"No...No Im fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Toga." It made her smile to hear you say that.

"Don't worry. Tomura's smart. He'll get us out safe, you'll see." You smiled back at her.

"I'm sure. But somehow I doubt I'll see you again. So, if this is goodbye-"

"Don't say that!" Toga shouted. "We're gonna stick together. Remember? I promised you I wouldn't let anyone hurt you!" You starred at her with wide eyes as your heart raced in your chest. A loud flutter.

"But, Toga."

"But nothing, friends stick together, right?" You nodded. "Then that settles it! We're taking her with us, aren't we guys?" Confused faces looked up at the two of you. "Well?"

"Uh- Sure." Spinner shrugged.

"Hell No - Alright!" Twice shouted.

"Heh, alright." Dabi chuckled.

"Tomura?" Toga called the absent-minded man.

"Huh?"

"We're taking her with us, right? She's one of us now!" Toga reached for your hand and curled her fingers between yours. Shigaraki looked up at her, his eyes lost in thought. "Tomura!" She scolded him like a little sister. He blinked a few times, shaking his attention to you.

"Are you, Y/L/N? Are you one of us?" You froze for a moment. No. Of course not. You're not a villain. You're not like these people! You're a heroes' kid! You're not evil! You're a good person!

You opened your mouth to speak, an overwhelming cacophony of thoughts keeping you from answering. For the first time in your entire life, you had been cared for in a way you never had before. No longer reliant on a bottle of pills to function properly. No longer forced to be productive. No pressure to be anything special. You could grow here. You could be yourself here. The room buzzed with energy at the activation of your quirk. Your emotional state boiling to a head, you opened your mouth to answer but before you could speak-

The building began to shake underneath you. You were thrown to the floor, eyes darting everywhere in search for the cause. The sound of explosions blasted above you, while what sounded like a bulldozer echoed below.

"Damn it! They're coming from both ends!" Dabi announced, gaining his balance to perform a ready stance before his blue flames emerged.

"C'mon Shigaraki! What do we do!" Twice shouted as he clung onto the man's forearm. The rest of you inching closer and closer to each other.

The blasts above became louder and louder until it became evident it was right above. Your stomach turned as you came to the realization. Before the order left his lips you had reached for a table across the room and brought it up above your small group for protection.

"Y/L/N!" Just in time for it to deflect the shrapnel of drywall that burst from the explosion above. Suddenly the floor below gave way, sending the six of you falling through the open air. There were supposed to be several floor to the building, but thanks to the hero, Deku, flimsy walls of the already rotting building had been quickly demolished within seconds.

You watched yourself fall, your hand desperately reaching for anything to hold on to. Failing and plummeting down with the rest of them. You watched as the DynaMight emerged from the smoke above to watch you with a satisfied grin plastered over his face.

The cries of the others behind you filled your ears. Why wasn't this hero doing something? Why wasn't he jumping to catch you? To catch the others? Is going to let you fall to your deaths? You can't let him do that! Quick- Quick- your quirk- catch them!

After a few attempts at activation in your panic, you were able to catch the others in the air. Just before their bodies hit the concrete of the building basement. Dropping them down from a safe few feet. The fall was uncomfortable, but a relief to you and the others that you could work so quickly.

But your success was short-lived as the building trembled and quaked with another explosion. You looked up just in time to watch what was left of the old hide out to come crashing down around you. Leaving you trapped in the basement, in complete darkness.

"THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" A familiar shriek echoed in Bakugou and Midoriya's ear pieces. They both jolted at the painful intrusion. Your mother, having just stolen a police walky talky huffed on the other end.

"Our apologies ma'am but they're fine. I saw it with my own eyes. They're just trapped under debris. Everything is going according to plan." Midoriya reassured.

"Ac- ACCORDING TO PLAN!? You mean to tell me, young man, that you intended to trap my daughter in with her KIDNAPPERS, WHO THREATENED TO KILL HER!?" She spat, understandably.

"If they wanted her dead by now, she would be. Shigaraki doesn't play games unless it's necessary. Trust me." Bakugou barked.

"So now what? We just wait until this psychopath decays his way loose?"

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[hopelesshawks]

Official Acounts Part 34- Falling 18+ NSFW Version

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

This version is 18+ so minors DNI. There is a SFW version available here for you

Warnings for mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, wing kink, feather play, and graphic description of unprotected sex

Masterlist

It’s been awhile since you’ve done this sober. You should probably be terrified. Actually you should definitely be terrified, you just walked off a building with all the confidence of someone wearing a parachute while actually having nothing but an evening gown and heels. Yet as you stare up at the night sky, wind rushing past you as you fall, you’re not scared at all.

Keigo will catch you.

You repeat it in your head like a mantra. Even as time seems to stretch on, you close your eyes and remain unafraid.

Keigo will catch you.

Images of the past several days living together float into you consciousness like dreams. The tear filled confessions, the quiet moments shared over mugs of tea, the good, the bad, the ugly, all of it. Each one a cherished memory and each one reinforcing what you already knew in your heart and with every fiber of your body.

Keigo will catch you.

He will catch you and maybe then he will understand that you’ve meant every word you’ve ever said to him. Maybe then he will understand that your reassurances aren’t empty. You tell him he’s better than Endeavor could ever hope to be because you know beyond any shadow of a doubt that it’s true.

For the second time in his life Keigo watches you disappear from view off the side of a building. Once again his blood turns to ice in his veins. Once again he wonders how it’s possible for someone to so confidently put themselves at such grave risk. Once again he is blindsided by it even if he probably shouldn’t be. But there are also a few notable differences this time around:

One, the two of you are much higher up

Two, there is no Bakugo to catch you

But three, and this is important, he has his wings.

So this time, when his heart seizes in his chest and his muscles twitch on instinct, he isn’t frozen in place. Quite the opposite actually. He shoots forward and then down to race to catch you. There’s no missing your bright red gown and within moments of spotting you he’s grabbing you out of the air. He quickly redirects the two of you until you’re soaring back upwards. With your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist he makes sure he has a good hold of you before doing a quick appraisal to make sure you’re alright. “Are you absolutely insane! You could’ve died! I swear to god (y/n) you’re going to give me a heart attack,” he rambles as his eyes roam across your form to make sure you’re alright. He’s so focused on making sure you’re ok that he doesn’t even notice at first that you’re laughing. “How are you laughing right now? Are you aware you could’ve died? I’m not even-“ It’s your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

You hadn’t necessarily planned to do it. As of that morning you still hadn’t been sure if you’d ever pursue something romantic with Hawks again. But watching him fret over you just now, needlessly you might add, you had been filled to brimming with just how much you loved and trusted the man in front of you. You couldn’t possibly have hoped to contain it all so you had surged forward to share it with him. He deserves to know he is loved, you realize, and the more you’ve gotten to know him the more you think he’s blind to all the love he is surrounded by. His father and then the HPSC may have denied him that growing up but now Keigo’s life was filled with so much love. From Mirko, from your friends, and from you. So much from you. You need him to see that like you need oxygen to breathe so you kiss him with all of that love and you make it a promise. A promise that you’ll start with this but it’s only the beginning.

Just as you had been that first date, Keigo is thrown at first when your lips meet his. It doesn’t take him long to catch up with the program though and soon he’s kissing you back just as earnestly. It’s almost overwhelming how much emotion he feels in that one kiss. He wonders if this is how you felt back when he had kissed you on that first date. He ends up dismissing the thought almost as soon as he’s had it. No this kiss, the love he feels in it, is genuine in a way he couldn’t be back then. It is unreserved and authentic and real in a way he couldn’t give you back then. He finds himself glad, in the end, that you had ended that first romantic relationship. It would have forever been marred by the circumstances from which it arose. Now the two of you are meeting as equals, vulnerable to each other by your own choosing. It is a love born not from guilt or suspicion, but from a deep and understanding friendship and that makes it all the more precious.

The two of you stay that way for what feels like an eternity, kissing above the city lights, until finally you have to break for air. As the two of you lock eyes you can’t help but laugh a little. “I knew you’d catch me,” you whisper into the stillness between the two of you. “How?” he asks with a quiet reverence for your faith in him. “I trust you,” is your simple response. “I trust you too,” he replies immediately with so much wonder in his voice that your heart swells all over again.

Both of you can’t help but laugh both in wonder and in disbelief. This wasn’t what either of you was expecting from this night but you’re so, so glad it came to this. You feel as if you could vibrate out of your skin at any moment as you take in the incredible man in front of you. “You said you trust me right little dove?” Hawks suddenly grins at you. “I did,” you reply without hesitation. “Good,” is all he says before suddenly you’re both plummeting. You shriek in surprise but it quickly turns into a laugh as you see the stupid grin on his face. You hold each other tightly as the world streams past. Only after dropping several stories, including past the banquet hall the two of you are supposed to be in, does he re-engage his wings and send the both of you back to the rooftop. “I’m starting to get why you like jumping off buildings so much little dove,” he laughs. “You didn’t before?” you ask. “I never much liked falling.” “That’s because you didn’t have someone to catch you before.” “Are you saying you’ll catch me little dove?” “Every time,” you promise. “I’ll catch you every time too,” he promises in return.

Hawks had flown you both home almost immediately after your promises to each other. He needed you. All of you. Endeavor and the HPSC be damned. So he had flown back to your apartment at break neck pace, delighting in every shriek and giggle you emitted as he let himself be just a little bit more reckless than normal in his flying. By the time the two of you were landing on the balcony you looked just as wild and windswept as he did. Your eyes are shining so, so brightly he feels he could get lost in their (y/e/c) depths. So he kisses you like he’s a man drowning and you’re the only oxygen in the room.

You don’t even fully remember how you got from the balcony to your room but it’s hard to care about that when Keigo’s lips are on yours and he’s pressing you tightly against him. You can feel him hardening through his suit pants and you’ve never wanted anything more so you let him walk you back to the bed as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt. You run your hands over his bare chest and then finally push his shirt and suit jacket off all at once, his hands leaving your waist so it can slide off and onto the floor. As your hands go to his belt, his go to the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you are almost frenzied in your actions. There will be a time for slow, a time when Hawks will unwrap you like a precious gift and appreciate your every inch but not now. Now is about desperation. Now is about making up for lost time. By the time your dress has hit the floor your bra is joining it and your panties aren’t far behind.

Only once you’re both nude does he push you onto the bed. The moment your back makes contact with the mattress he’s back on you, his bare erection pressing into your hip as your mouths once again connect. The kiss is greedy and demanding, both of you aching for the other in a way you didn’t even know was possible, your hips grinding up to meet his to give you both a taste of what you’re truly craving. He takes one hand down to tease at your folds, moaning into your mouth when he realizes how wet you already are for him. Your mouths part as you cry out his name and his fingers wander to your sensitive clit. Your hands reach for something, anything to latch onto and you end up grasping onto some of the feathers at the base of his wings. “Fuck!” he groans loudly as stars explode behind his eyes and he has to carefully cant his hips away from yours to stop from spilling right then and there. As it is you can feel a damp spot on your hip where his precum had gathered. “I didn’t know they did that,” you pant breathily. “Me neither,” he admits, equally out of breath as he tries to regain his composure. You experimentally give them another pull and the way Keigo’s hips jerk instinctively and he moans is absolutely sinful. “Watch it, kid,” he growls. “Or what?” you smirk. You gasp as he roughly inserts two fingers at once inside you and begins scissoring you open. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns as two of his feathers begin to travel slowly up your torso and one makes its way up your inner thigh. “Kei what are you-“ you don’t finish the thought, instead gasping again as the two that had been running up your torso begin circling your nipples and the other provides sweet friction to your swollen clit.

“Oh god Kei, please. Please. I need you,” you beg as the stimulation continues to take you to new heights of pleasure. “Going to need you to be a bit more specific than that little dove,” he teases as he bends his head down to nip at your neck and begins to pump his fingers in and out. “I need your dick inside me. Now,” you groan unabashedly and it makes Keigo curse under his breath and his erection throb as more precum beads at the tip. “I can do that,” he finally pants as she shifts to line his penis up with your entrance. He carefully removes his fingers and you whine at the feeling of emptiness but he shushes you soothingly. “Don’t worry you won’t be empty for long,” he assures you before slowly pushing his thick cock inside of you. It takes a moment for you to adjust to his girth but he’s oh so patient. In all honesty he isn’t convinced that if he had shoved it all in at once the fun would’ve ended as quickly as it began. So he slides into you slowly under the guise of teasing you but actually is making sure to compose himself as he feels your tight walls clenching around him. After what feels like an eternity he is fully sheathed inside of you, your hips flush together and his feathers having finally paused in their ministrations as well. “You ok?” he asks. You nod. “Can I start moving?” “Please God do.”

His thrusts start out nice and slow, easing you into the pleasure, but it doesn’t last long. The first time he manages to hit the one spot inside of you that has your head falling back and the most beautiful of moans falling from your lips is also the last time he manages to keep it slow. Each successive thrust after that is progressively faster and faster as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hang on for the ride as he delivers thrust after thrust exactly where you want it inside you. He continues to pound you into the mattress but shortly afterwards his feathers are going to work on your nipples and clit again and from there it’s a rapid ascension to the peak of your pleasure. It’s like every one of your nerve endings is triggered as you get closer and closer to climax. “Keigo I’m gonna-“ “Yea? You gonna cum for me baby? Go ahead do it for me.” You don’t need to be told twice. Finally your orgasm comes ripping through you with all the force of a hurricane as you let out a silent cry. You grab hold of his feathers once more as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life. That and the feeling of you clenching around him is enough to send Keigo right over too. He moans into your neck as his hips stutter to a halt and he pumps you full of his seed, finally claiming you as his.

It takes a little while but eventually the highs finally fade and Keigo collapses into your bed next to you, both of you sweaty and out of breath. “Fuck,” is all he says. “I agree,” you laugh. He reaches over and pulls you in to cuddle against him as his feathers do the work of moving your blankets and then tucking the two of you in. “I trust you,” you tell him. “I trust you too,” is his immediate response. It’s too early for “I love you”. You both are well aware of that. Somehow though “I trust you” means just a little bit more in this moment.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long but I hope it was worth it!!! Enjoy ❤️

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @the-adzukibean @a-fucking-sero-kinnie @ladyzayismultifandom @pixelwisp

[hobbitsnapes]

the elf in the café chapter 7

A corpse husband story

(I do not own this photo, nor do I know where it originated from. All credit goes to the artist.)

Summary: Never in his life, did he think going to a cafe and meeting a Harry Potter nerd could change his life. (I’m shit at summaries

A/N: H/N means his name, being that we don’t know what his actual name is currently

As the clock struck 12, dread filled him. This was honestly one of the days he looked the least forward to, having been for years now.

It was his birthday, a day that would call for celebration, had become a day of forgetting and dread in the last few years. He can’t even remember the last time he celebrated it. He thought of it as any other day of the year, and hoped nobody in his life would remember it. He just hoped the same would go for this year.

He was just making himself a sandwich when his phone rang, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He knew the ringtone like it was a call from death itself. Having changed it years ago so he wouldn’t assume it was anymore else.

He sucked in a large intake of air before pressing the ever so dawning green button.

“Hello?” “Hi H/N.” His heart dropped further at the sound of her voice, having not heard it in a year. “Hi mom.”

“Just wanted to call to wish you a happy birthday.” She says. You could hear how uncomfortable they both were, the hood 10 second pause of pure silence growing thicker by the second as his heart nearly beats out of his chest. “Thanks, appreciate it.” “How have you been?” He can’t help but roll his eyes slightly. She always asks this when she calls him, being that she’s only called him one day a year for years now. “Alright. Just working a lot.” He says, he can’t help but cringe at how uncomfortable he sounds. “That’s good, met anyone special?” He can’t help but cringe further at her question. It was so forced and uncomfortable sounding. “How about we talk about something else.” He hates having to hide her, but he knows if he says anything about her, his mother will try and pry out details about her. And either pretend to be interested in her sons love life, or ridicule him or her, and he doesn’t have the willpower to deal with that.

“Alright well, I’ll talk to you later then.” She sighs, you can hear the level of sadness in her tone. “Alright, see you later.” Hes about to hang up when he hears her again. “Love you H/N.” His heart pangs in his chest as he sucks in air at her words, nearly toppling him over in pain. “You too.” He says, voice cracking considerably. He hangs up before she can reply back, not being able to handle any more interaction with her. Tears fill his eyes and a couple escape, her words ringing in his head as stray tears fall down his cheeks.

The next few hours were a blur to him. Not because he had anything to drink, or any substance to make it that way, but just because he didn’t want to think. He tried his hardest to forget the call, but each time he tried it would get worse. So much worse in fact that he found himself on his couch most of the day, in a state of consciousness and sleep. Trying his best to get rid of not only the pain in his eyes but the pain in his heart.

He must’ve finally passed out because he woke to the sound of someone beside him, making his heart plummet and jump. “Hey hey it’s okay, it’s just me. I tried calling you but you didn’t answer, I’m sorry hun.” Her soothing words broke him out of his panic, making his heart warm for the first time that day.

She placed her palm to his cheek, making him smile as she ran her thumb over his skin. He turned his head into her hand, placing a kiss to her palm. A smile broke out on her face, making him chuckle lightly, placing his much larger one over hers.

Having her there helped his mood considerably, nearly forgetting the entire encounter with his mother. But he again forgot just how smart she was, how she could tell something was off about him. “Hey, what’s going on? You’re not acting like yourself.” His heart falls slightly at her words, turning his head to her, wishing he hadn’t. Concern wrote itself in her face, her eyes pleading with him. Her hand was placed on his thigh, running her thumb over it lightly.

He looks away from her eyes, letting out a large sigh. “Yeah, I Uh, stuff happened today.” Worry fills her at his confession, making her heart drop. “What happened?” He again sighs at her question. It wasn’t that he was afraid of saying it to her, but rather he hated talking about his mother.

“Today, I got a call from my mother. Remember how I said I don’t speak to my family? Well, I left something out. She, only ever calls once a year. On my birthday.” A small gasp leave her at his words, making his heart break slightly. “I didn’t wanna tell you today was my birthday, not because I didn’t want you to know, but because I hate celebrating it. Not only is it just another day, but because that’s the only time I hear from my family. I’m sorry.” His voice slightly cracks at the end, making his head fall.

Her hand grabs a hold on his cheek, lightly turning his face into her chest, his arms wrapping around her securely.

She runs her hands over his back and through his hair, moving her hands from his back to hold his cheek again. Turning his head up to look at her, placing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s alright hun, I understand completely. I’m not mad or even upset. Why don’t you try talking to me about it, and maybe I can try and help if you’d like?” A smile takes over his face at her words, making his heart warm again. He leans up, placing a small kiss to her jaw. “Can we just lay here? This is all the help I need to make this shitty day amazing.” She chuckles at his words, wrapping her arms around him. “Of course, and hey.” He turns his head up at her, “happy birthday.” She says, placing a small kiss to his forehead, making him smile as he buries his head into her neck, making her laugh.

Laughter broke out of both of them, making them nearly cry. They had settled on watching a funny movie tonight, wanting nothing but to laugh as they embrace one another. They settled on grown ups, neither having seen it in years. “He-he licked the dog shit.” He laughed, trying his hardest to form a coherent sentence. “I-I can’t handle this.” She says, reaching for the remote, putting the movie on pause. “Hey, what was that for?” He teases, laughter still apparent in his voice. “I need a break before I piss myself.” She laughs, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“You know, you look really fucking cute today.” He admits, making her duck her head as her cheeks flush. “Thanks, I went and got my haircut a bit this morning.” She chuckles, making him smile. “I can tell, looks almost as beautiful as your face.” He says, making her flush as she hides her face from his eyes. “Awe come on, don’t do that.” He says, reaching over and removing her hands from her face. He plants a few small kisses to her cheeks, making her laugh as he attacks her face.

He had never been like this, so affectionate with her. While he did kiss her face often, he wasn’t ever like this. Neither hadn’t even kissed yet, or made it official. They didn’t want to rush it, wanting to let it happen when they felt it.

She yells out in laughter as he attacks her neck with his lips, pecking the skin over and over, wrapping his arms around her. He can’t help but laugh along with her as he does this, loving every second of hearing her angelic laughter erupt around the room.

It was as if time stopped all together, if the air had drilled, every noise decided to hush, everything was on hold when they looked into one another’s eyes. Their breasts hitting one another softly as their hearts pounded.

His hand held her cheek lightly, feeling the heat against his palm. Neither could break their eyes apart, fearing the moment will be lost as soon as their eyes venture away.

Her breath catches in her throat when his amber eyes gaze down to her lips, his dark lashes casting a faint shadow along his cheeks before meeting his gaze once again.

His palm slowly moves down to the side of her neck, feeling her breath catch, before finally shutting his eyes.

It was as if all pressure that had built up dissipated when their lips finally touched, a deep sigh leaving him as his lips move against hers slowly.

Her hand runs to the side of his face, cupping his cheek as their lips dance. Their body ignites in nerves as their lips card over each other like folded sheets, feeling every ounce of passion and built up emotions cascade over them.

Their lips pull into tight smiles, both trying to fight them off but to no avail. Both pull apart momentarily, small chuckles leaving them before crashing their lips back together.

One hand stays to the back of her neck, while the other smothers down her side, hand flush to the small of her back, guiding both of them back.

Her heart skips at the feel of him pulling her to him, a small gasp leaving her parted lips when she feels him pull her body onto his lap, his hand grabbing a hold of her thigh. His hand clenching the skin, not enough to hurt her, but to feel her skin in his hands as waves of nerves and passion flow through his mind and body, making him nearly shake as his lips envelope hers.

His hand moves from her thigh to her bottom, kneading it as she gasped lightly in his mouth.

And with a hand on her back, he lifted her from the couch, small laughs shared between them as he walked them to his room.

Warmth, that’s all she felt as she woke. Arms wrapped around her, back flush to his chest as she felt his smooth breaths fall against her neck. A soft smile grows on her face, hearing the soft snores he lets out.

Flashes of the night and early hours of the morning play in her mind, making the smile on her face grow along with a warmth in her heart to grow. The feel of his skin gliding along hers, the soft but needy touches of new found skin ignited them both as they explored one another for the first time together. Immense bubbling love and pure bliss and euphoria coursed through them, making their heads spin the entire night. Soft nervous touches turned desperate as the night grew on, confidence and desire growing as each touch was shared between them. Neither wanting to stop.

She turned in his arms, trying her best not to wake the sleeping man. But to no avail, a soft hum broke past his lips, eyes still shut. A soft smile grows on her face, hand reaching up, cupping his cheek. Her thumb runs along his cheek, making his eyes flutter and the corner of his lips turn up. A sigh broke past his lips, eyes finally opening, revealing the dark amber of his eyes as his gaze fell on her. His smile grew on his face, eyes still tired as his gaze captured her.

His hand moved to the back of her neck, slowly closing the small gap between them as his lips fell on hers, moving them softly against hers. Moving his other hand to her outer thigh, pulling it over his hip as he runs his hand up the length of it, lightly grabbing at it as their lips moved in slow harmony.

Their lips broke as they smiled, small puffs of laughter fall against their lips as they hold one another. “Hi” he whispers, lips catching hers again. “Hi” she chuckles, making him smile, pulling her lips back to his.

After what seemed like hours, they pulled apart as she sat up, the chill in the air evident when she pulled away from his warmth.

A yelp broke past her lips as she got up, his hand slapping her bum. A laugh broke out of him as she grabbed it, looking back to him as he clutched his stomach. “That hurt asshole.” She laughed, trying to sound serious but to no avail. “Awe come on honey, I was slapping it way harder last night.” A blush grew on her face at his words, making him laugh harder. “Yes and it’s very sore because of it. Not my fault I’ve got a hank hill ass. Not all of us have a plump ass like you do.” She laughs, making him throw his head back in laughter.

His gaze followed her as she walked over to where they hastily threw their clothes, his eyes taking in her still naked form. Faint bruises lay on her hips, seeing the print of his fingers. Her chest and neck painted with varying depths of love marks, some darker than others. His eyes traveled past her breasts, down to her stomach. The skin was slightly soft, poking out slightly, what caught his attention was the soft lines on stretch marks that were softly drawn along the slightly loose skin. He hadn’t noticed the night prior, not that he cared. Maybe it was just a bit of weight that had been lost overtime, he wasn’t too sure.

A soft smile played on his lips when he watched her throw his shit over herself, the material falling past her thighs, looking more like a short dress on her. His eyes traveled back to hers, a soft smile on her face.

Her eyes fell back to him, feeling his gaze watching her the entire time. She smiled as she looked him over. Hair a curly mess against his pillows, tangled a better word for the strands. Her eyes traveled down to his pale chest, blanket drawn only to his hips. Soft love marks cover his naked form, standing out mostly against his neck. Her eyes moved back to his, her heart fluttering as she looked into them.

She let out a gasp as his arms wrapped around her, his front flushed to her back as she mixed both eggs and peppers together in the pan. His chest shook lightly against her as he chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder. Moving his head over, kissing the side of her cheek. Her face flushing at the action.

His arms squeezed her tighter, bringing her even closer to him. His lips falling to her neck, kissing the skin lightly. A soft laugh leaves her at this, trying to stir their breakfast to the best of her abilities. “What are you doing?” She chuckles. “What does it look like?” He whispers, biting the skin lightly, making her gasp. “Can I fucking cook our breakfast first you horny bastard!” She laughs, making him pull his head from her neck, laughing profusely.

She cuts the stove off as the eggs are done, not a second after she does, she yells out as he lifts her. He laughs out as he puts her on the counter, a yelp leaving her at the cold marble freezes her naked bum. They both laugh out as they kiss, hands going to his hair in the process. His hands pulling her closer to the edge of the counter, grabbing her thighs as he moved himself between her parted legs, lips moving along hers.

Their heart hammered against one another as they lay in on each other, their skin hot as they pant. Smiles cover their faces as they hold on another, his legs about ready to fall as he still stands at the counter, arms wrapped around her. Their lips meet again, slowly moving as they smile.

Their food was cold by the time they grew the energy to eat, laying against one another on the couch as they silently eat. Soft kisses shared as the minutes go by, their hearts fluttering each time.

Their hearts pained as they hug one another, neither wanting to let go as they stand at the door. She sadly had to head back home, he couldn’t remember the reason she gave, only remembering the pain in his heart as he looked into her eyes.

Their lips meet again, pulling one another closer as they pour every ounce of emotions they’ve felt in the last 24 hours. “Call me when you get back, please?” He mumbles. “Always, I’ll call you before I head to bed too okay?” She says, a smile growing on his lips. “Okay.” He says, kissing her lips again.

He watched as she pulls out the driveway, a smile growing on his face at her small wave. His heart warming in his chest.

[thecaptainhelm]

Shut Your Mouth Pt.2

hahaha, daminette part two, wasn’t a one shot, gn gn gn.

Marinette sighed as the shower warmed up, rolling her neck and relishing in the light feeling of accomplishment. Ever since Hawkmoth had been defeated, a mere two days ago, things had been tense. Hawkmoth, now known as Gabriel Agreste, was arrested along with his assistant Nathalie Sancoeur who had since retired as Mayura the year before. It was a stroke of luck to discover that the Guardian had the ability to forcibly renounce a broken Miraculous. Something Gabriel hadn’t known, granting them extra time as he futilely tried to ‘fix’ the brooch. While that happened, she managed to finally convince Chat to at least keep him as a suspect if not out of suspicion, then to actually strike him from their list. It didn’t take long rack up evidence against him, especially after learning from the Bats of Gotham. 

The battle was quiet, in the early hours of the morning, where the city forcibly cut the power to the Agreste mansion, and it only took one Venom for each while they slept defenselessly. It took only a few minutes to find evidence that he was at least working with Hawkmoth, and when they found the miraculous pin and brooch, it was confirmed that he was, indeed, Hawkmoth with Nathalie working as his henchwoman Mayura.

Soon, with what was probably the fastest trial of the century, Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur were declared guilty and sentenced to serve life in prison and an insane asylum respectively. It had only shocked her for a moment that Mayura pleaded guilty and asked to be sent directly to rehab for mental help, by reason of insanity wrought by grief. What did surprise her was that she was the one to take the miraculous and give them to the Agreste couple as an anniversary gift, ultimately setting off a chain of unforeseen consequences.

That was a whole other cake she didn’t want to bake just yet, so she decided to finally just take a moment to breathe for what felt like the first time in five years. 

So it was only normal that her smartwatch chimed on the hook of the shower caddy, a picture of a frowny eagle glaring right at her. She cursed her luck, yeah, no breaks was still her usual routine. It must be real hard for the universe to break out that particular habit.

Then she remembered that she set this particular picture and ringtone for the one person who had never called.

Robin, the vigilante that she might have, kind of, definitely made an enemy of.

Who was also her crush, so that was just. Great.

In her defense, she was a human being, and human beings were capable of amazing feats. It was just that her amazing feats were more amazing bouts of stupidity. Seriously, why did she do it? Just where did her common sense escape to make her think that was even a remotely good idea, because she wanted to go there and never come back.

She had kissed-- no! She made out with Robin, the most notoriously ill-tempered member of Batman’s team. The only reason he didn’t deck her in the face was because, because, well she didn’t know! Was it mercy, a misplaced feeling of pity, perhaps?

No, actually, it was more likely that he was frozen stiff with rage. Marinette couldn’t blame him, heck, she’d be angry too, suddenly getting passionately smooched in the middle of livid rant. 

She had planned on giving him her contact information for the longest time, since they'd come to the understanding that they only wanted to do what was best for everyone, the kind of understanding that only leaders could have. And to maybe get closer to him as much as professionalism allowed. So, it stood to reason that she had to go ahead and ruin that, too. She really couldn’t believe herself sometimes, who randomly kisses someone, hands them their number, and then trots off back to work? Marinette Dupain-Cheng apparently.

In fact, it was about time he called. She had pretty much an entire year to prepare herself for what was sure to be a concise and frigid rejection, maybe even a “Stay for away from, lest I stab everyone in this room and then jump out of a window out of utter disgust”? She might as well get it over with and then move on to be alone for the rest of her life.

She wiped the water out of her eyes and squinted at the text message, before jumping out the shower with a loud curse. She hurriedly dried off and put on her clothes, before heading to the Miracle Box, rereading his message.

Emergency evac, one person, requesting Pegasus’ portal twenty kilometers horizontally above sea level precisely fifteen minutes after this message. Coordinates attached.

The message was sent ten minutes ago. How long was she catastrophizing for?!

Max was partying along with the rest of Paris while she took a breather in her art studio. Even with the full fifteen minutes she wouldn’t be able to find him in time. Shit, would she even be able to transform in time?

She grabbed the glasses from the box and Kaalki appeared in a proud flash. 

“No time, there’s trouble,” she panted. “Ready?”

“Hmph, of course,” Kaalki tossed her head. “Let’s go, shall we?”

“Kaalki, transform me!” She eyed the time, two minutes left. She memorized the coordinates as she searched for a suitable place for him to land, and realized she was going to have to catch him in her storage closet.

One minute left. She opened the door and cleared space in the center of the room.

Thirty-five seconds. She stood on an old chair that she moved into the center of the room.

Twenty seconds, and she called, “Voyage!” and threw the portal up towards the ceiling.

Zero. She braced for impact and caught a body that plummeted through in a free fall.

“Ow,” she closed the portal with a groan, amidst the shattered pieces of what used to be a pretty sturdy chair.

“Don’t complain, it could have been worse.” A deep voice rasped.

Wow, to think she missed him, that asshole.

“Shut up, Robi-- oh my god your arm! Get up, getupgetupgetup!” She hauled him up as gently as possible, annoyance giving way to concern.

Robin was, putting it lightly, a mess. He had lost his mask, his eye was swollen shut and his face was bruised with cuts all over, and he was sticky with blood practically everywhere she looked. It was his arm that she was most concerned about, however. It was set in a splint, but he must have been in a rush because it was set wrong, his thumb facing perpendicular lyaway from his body.

“I am fine,” he sagged into her, weary. “I just need a place to stay for the night.”

“If you weren’t so grievously injured, I’d throw you out for that,” she remarked. “But guess what? It’s your lucky night monsieur, and I’m a trained field medic.” Robin looked at her, maskless, and she had to dart her eyes away from his maskless face.

“Oh, so Ladybug finally started replacing her subpar lineup? About time, either she benched them or Hawkmoth would kill them at some point. They were woefully incompent.” Yep, this was definitely Robin, no doubt about it with that attitude.

She called off the transformation and was somewhat pleased when he reflexively jerked his head away. She pulled him into a princess carry and made her way back to the bathroom, inwardly delighting at his reaction. She would never let him live this down.

“It’s me, Robin. Ladybug. Pegasus couldn’t make it, so you’ll have to do with me instead of a random stand-in.” She raised her brow, not that he could see it.

“Unless that bothers you, Boy Wonder?”

“...I’m not,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“I’m not Robin anymore.”

What. What.

“What?”

“I’ve retired, effective as of nine months ago today, Robin’s cape has been hung up for the next generation.”

Relief didn’t come yet. “Oh, so you’ve taken on a new mantle? Or are you finally the next Batman, though it would take some time to fill those shoulders. Literally, I mean that literally, um.” She observed his downcast expression and once again started walking to the bathroom. When had she stopped?

“I’m not taking over anything,” he said sullenly. “I can’t. Not after what I did.”

“Come on, it couldn’t have been so bad,” she opened the door with her heel as she backed them towards the stool by the sink. She set him down carefully, taking full stock of his injuries.

“It was. Batman’s cowl has always represented a strict moral code, one that I’ve always...struggled to adhere to.”

Marinette bit her lip as she kneeled in front of him. He didn’t say anymore, and she couldn’t think of anything to say. She sighed and brought out her med kit from the towel cabinet. She was always like this with him.

With Robin (now not Robin?) she had always drawn a blank. She could read his emotions somewhat well, had a good grasp on his moods, and could have genuinely insightful conversations with him. It was only at crucial moments like this that she struggled. Even with Adrien she had always known what she wanted to say, but Robin was different. Everything about him screamed “one chance only” and that caused her mind to go blank. It was so unbelievably frustrating that she could scream.

Marinette handed the glasses to Kaalki and nodded towards her purse hanging on the door handle. The kwami zoomed towards it and soon disappeared into it with the miraculous.

“Robin,” she called gently. He didn’t move. “I’ll have to cut your shirt off, okay? I need to see where the blood is coming from.”

“It’s not mine.The blood.” He kept his gaze away as she froze.

“Well, we’ll have to reset that arm,” she tried again. “It’s not...it’s not looking good, to say the least.”

He looked towards his mangled right arm and nodded. 

It took some time to undo the splint and she tried not to think about where he had been for him to only have rotted wood and prison rags on hand. She cut his shirt off at the sleeve and down his middle, pulling it off and exposing a painful canvas of mottled bruises, scrapes, and cuts. She handed him her towel and he stuffed it in his mouth without a word. She gently untied the splint.

“Are you ready?” She gazed at him resolutely. He nodded and braced himself as best he could.

“On my count, one, two--” She re-broke his arm a count early on purpose.

“Arrghh! Ffuk!!” He jerked out of her grip.

“Hold still!” He spat out the towel and glared in response.

“Mizq dhiraei allaeaynat 'aw aidbitha!!!” She only understood ‘rip’ and ‘arm’ but she got the gist of his screaming.

“Alright it’s done now, I’m setting it, so stop moving,” She couldn’t help but sigh under his vicious scowl.

“Tsk. Be grateful that I can barely discern your features Ladybug. You’re on my shit list and I don’t feel like kicking your ass today.”

“Wow, thanks for saving me Ladybug, I could have died if it weren’t for you!” Marinette couldn’t help but snark at him.

“...tsk!” Yep, that was as good as she was going to get in his condition.

After years of fighting akuma victims she was able to observe the complex and hidden emotions of her opponents and the civilians that she rescued. And right now, her experience was telling her that Robin had more than his pride ruined. His self-confident, courageous, and taciturn nature seemed to be regressing as he fell back into what was probably a self-defense mechanism. For him to be like this instead of exhausted in his current state told her that he must have been through a lot since she last saw him.

She started to gently clean the blood off and noted the bruises underneath definitely came from an intense melee battle. Most of them were in places that made her cringe just looking at them. At least he doesn’t have any other broken bones, or stab wounds. Lucky him.

Robin put an ice pack to his face in the meanwhile and wouldn’t look in her direction.

It was quiet for a while. “So, what should I call you, then?” And she had to open her big fat mouth, didn’t she? Now it was awkward. It was awkward, and he hated her, and she was never speaking again, ever.

“Damian.” Uh oh.That didn’t sound like a moniker.

“Um, nice code name?” She started disinfecting his cuts and scrapes, trying not to panic.

“I no longer require such aliases.” Ok, process that later, heal Robin now. Process. Later.

“Ro--, Damian, uh, well,” She sighed.  “My offer still stands, you know?”

He made a quiet noise. 

“Last time I saw you, I mean. I had left in a rush,”-- after kissing you senseless-- “but I’m always here to listen if you want to talk about what happened.”

Robin, or Damian now, she still wasn’t used to that, froze. His brows furrowed and he strangely went red in the face, before sighing, slumping against the sink.

“I...the blood’s not mine. It hasn’t been my for a long time, but it might as well be for how long I’ve carried it. I’m not a good person so much as to blame myself completely, but I do recognize some of the fault as mine. I’d gotten help, and I was making progress, but it wasn’t enough. I started falling back into old habits and I hated it. I tried and I failed, and I kept trying and failing for months and I…” He gained a look of despair, the first real emotion she’s seen on him since he dropped in.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. I just kept disappointing everyone and I hated it so much,” he dug his fingers into his matted hair.

“So, I left. I decided to go on a journey to try and repent, and it was working, at least I thought it did. But, then I had stumbled upon a Shadows base and I…” He peered unseeing at the floor.

“It was like I lost all sense of reason. I lay siege to the entire facility and found my way to the next base. It all turned into an endless cycle, all the way until I reached headquarters and inadvertently met up with high ranking members of the Justice League, teaming up to diminish their power. We were successful, but a candidate for the position of the Demon’s Head activated the self-destruct module. Everyone was scrambling to get out and suddenly my mind felt clearer than it had ever been.” He took  a deep breath and Marinette moved closer to offer some comfort. He leaned towards her gratefully.

“The Justice League had already had an escape route, but the Shadows were in disarray for some reason. After I was sure my old comrades were out, I locked all the doors, and dived down to a ceremonial bathing chamber.”

“And that’s where I came in,” she whispered. I think I’m starting to like him more than I should. What is wrong with me?! Who made me this way?! She had some complaints in regards to that.

“You saved my life,” he inclined his head in an informal bow. “Thank you, Ladybug.”

“...Marinette.” She croaked suddenly. She was left reeling from his info dump and her intense, romantic feelings. So, why not go for a confession? 

Damian whipped his head up in disbelief.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Enchanté, Damian.” She smiled at his bewildered state, wiping away a bit of blood under his chin. She opened her mouth to say more, but didn’t get the chance.

Damian leapt up, furious. “You fool! I knew you were a space cadet, but I didn’t think your brain drifted beyond the stars! How utterly moronic!”

“Wait, why are you so mad?!” She panicked. She kind of had a spur of the moment idea to kiss him on his split lip, but that was looking less and less likely to happen.

(Damn it.)

“You told me your name!” he shouted.

“Yes, and you told me your’s?” She retorted. 

“Have you forgotten Hawkmoth?! Your enemy that can read the minds of the emotionally disturbed should he decide to possess them!” He started to hobble out of the bathroom, still half-treated and mostly in pain.

Oh. 

Oh!

“I have to leave, now! If I can stay calm long enough to reach the trains then I’ll be moving too fast for a butterfly to suddenly get me.”

“Uh, Damian?”

“No, it might already be enroute to someone else and might even already be on board,” He winced and stumbled on the tassel rug in the hallway.

“Woah, hang on a second Damian,” she grabbed him before he could fall, but he pulled out of her grip.

“We don’t have time for this, I can guarantee that I would be one of the worst akumas you’ve faced in your hero career, nevermind the insider information I hold within my mind.”

“Yes, but listen to me,” Damian moved towards the small sitting area, not listening to her. 

Again.

“This safehouse should be around one hundred kilometers from the city limits, you’re safe for now, but Hawkmoth’s estimated rate of growth was--”

That’s it!

Marinette grabbed his jaw and slammed it closed. She had had enough.

“This isn’t a safehouse, we’re in my art studio,” she snapped. She could see the rage begin to build to new heights in his eye.

“No, shut your mouth, and listen!” A vein in his forehead started to pulse, but he didn't move to speak.

Good.

“Hawkmoth has been defeated as of last week, and the trial was concluded a couple days ago. Going by what you told me, you've been out the loop for almost a year, so you don’t know that my team and I had closed in on Hawkmoth’s trail some time ago and were able to build a solid case that’ll go through in a court of law,” She carefully let him go.

“So, you’re safe, I’m safe, and Paris is safe too.” She’d already started to calm down in the middle of her explanation, and idly noted that she should probably take an anger management class.

And sign up for therapy. Lots of it, preferably.

Damian nodded slowly as he rubbed his jaw and she couldn’t help her wince.

“Sorry, did I handle you too roughly? Come here,” she started to pull him back towards the bathroom. He resisted.

“No, it’s fine, no damage just from that much force,” he tugged his arm away but she quickly moved behind him and began to push him through the bathroom door.

“Well, I’m not done treating you, so get back in there.” He grabbed the door frame and pushed back, and her calm demeanor left as quick as it came. Was it even truly there to begin with?

“I said,” she picked him up and threw him back on the stool where he grasped for stability.

“Come here.” She leaned in close to his bruised face, and wow, the one eye that she could see was so very, very green. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

“...okay,” he whispered. He kept his head down.

It didn’t take long to finish disinfecting the rest of his wounds, and soon she started applying ointment to the worst of his bruises. She had enough, but she was definitely going to be restocking in order to play his nursemaid for the next week or so. She rose to her feet and started packing away her kit.

“I’ll give you some pain meds for the night, I’ll leave you to take care of the injuries under the rest of your clothes. Come find me in the kitchenette. I’ll make something for us, though it won’t be anything fancy.”

“That is fine.” Marinette frowned at the strange husk in his voice. Did someone try to suffocate him? Why hadn’t she noticed until now?

She kneeled beside him and reached around him for the water bottle she had left in there earlier, but noticed him twitch and start to blush. Did he get a fever too?

She observed his red face and clear, but dilated eyes. Merde, did she embarrass him from earlier? She knew he had a large ego, but it was his own fault for being stubborn.

“Here, get yourself some water from the sink,” she handed the glittery black bottle to him and hurriedly strode out of the bathroom, calling,

“Holler if you need me!” 

Completely aware of the flustered state she left Damian in. Though not for the reason she thinks, at least.

[marvelslut16]

Almost lost him

Pairing: James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes x Stark!reader 

Synopsis: Tony’s little sister had always had feelings for one James R. Rhodes. She’s kept it a secret for years, but will everything come out after he is injured during the fight against Cap?

word count: 2.4k+

Warnings: Brief cannon violence. Angst. Mentions paralysis. Swearing. Age gap. Also I have a specific age for the character mentioned. 

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIP’s for over a year because I loved it so much and I didn’t want to end it poorly lmao. I know no ones gonna read it since he isn’t a popular character, but oh well. I love this fic and I love Rhodey so that’s all that matters. 

Tony and (Y/N) Stark have saved the world from terrorists once again.

“Can you believe this title?” you laugh showing Rhodey the article on your phone. 

“I was there too,” he says gruffly. 

“You just aren’t special enough,” you tease, sticking your tongue out like you’re five and not thirty-six. 

“Not everyone’s lucky enough to be a Stark,” Tony, your annoying but lovable older brother, enters the compound’s kitchen.

Tony took you under his wing and raised you since your parents died. It was a lot for a twenty-one year old to handle, no one he knew had to take care of an eleven year old. Especially one with newly discovered powers. They weren’t much, but when emotions would get overwhelming you would have white colored beams come from your hands. This later helped Tony come up with the idea for the repulsors on his Iron Man suit, which you helped him build.

As the years passed, you got a better hold on your new found powers. The more you and Tony dug into your parents past, you started to think that your dad had either given you something when you were a baby or your mom was given something while pregnant to make you like this. Your Dad always called you special, but you never thought you were this special.

“Any progress with Steve?” you ask hopefully. You know how much Tony values his friendship with Cap, he just won’t admit it. Especially because he’s hurt. 

“No,” he grunts, but tries to brush it off like he doesn’t care. You and Rhodey give each other unamused looks, clearly not believing the bullshit Tony is trying to feed you.

“I think you should try to reach out to him again, you clearly miss him Tony,” you frown at the dark haired man in front of you.

“I agree with (Y/N/N),” Rhodey speaks up from behind you. He’s closer than you remember, and you shiver as you feel the little licks of his breath on your neck as he speaks. 

“You love birds can shut up now,” Tony rolls his eyes, he leaves the kitchen without anything. 

Heat immediately rushes to your face and you can’t look Rhodey in the eye as you stutter out an apology for Tony’s actions. You quickly leave the kitchen before he can respond, wanting to put distance between your blushing self and the man you had been in love with for years. 

-- 

You had hoped that the conversation in the kitchen would have convinced Tony to reach out and make amends with Steve and half of the Avengers. But things only continued to escalate, where it seemed a battle between friends was unavoidable. So that's how you ended up in Germany, with your newest recruit Spider-Man, facing off against the people you cared most about in this world.

“Rhodey!” you scream as you watch him plummet to the Earth. Time seems to slow to a near standstill and all you can do is watch, too far away from him to be able to help somehow. Your knees buckle and you hit the ground at the same time his body does. There's a scream that’s so loud it rattles the windows of the airport hanger, a scream you weren’t even aware left your own lips. 

Vision tries to approach you, but you let out a sound that's between a sob and a scream as he gets closer. You’re angry, and scared, you can feel a rush of something in your veins. You ball your hands in fists, bringing them to your chest as you curl into yourself. 

The sound of metal crunching together pulls you from your rocking back and forth on your knees. You see a white glow, one that you're extremely familiar with, dissipating from around two shipping containers, now crushed together where vision was hovering. If he had stayed solid, he would have been crushed. You’re shaking even more as you stare down at your hands, you had never been able to move objects before. You could have hurt somebody. You can’t dwell on it too long because Peter runs to your side, telling you that Rhodey had a heartbeat and help was on the way. 

It had felt like hours since Tony, Peter, and you had landed back down in the states. Dr. Cho was working with a spine specialist and a neurosurgeon to figure out the extent of the damage. After a while, they had updated you three, telling you that Rhodey broke his spine and they were taking him into surgery. Tony had left to go fiddle with one of his suits, his coping mechanism. He left the kid with you because he didn’t want you alone. 

“How did you two meet?” Peter breaks the silence.

“Hmm?” you look away from the painting in front of you for the first time since you sat in the waiting room chair, to look at the boy. 

“Mr. Rhodes, how did you two meet?” he clarifies. 

“That’s a long story,” your eyes glaze over as memories start to come flooding back.

“I have time,” Peter gives you a small smile, you can really see what Tony see’s in the kid. The kindness that his Aunt May has taught him is abundantly clear, you know he’s only asking for your benefit.

“He met Tony when they went to MIT together, he somehow found a way to put up with my brother's antics. I didn’t meet him until two years after Tony graduated, so I was eleven,” you let out a little laugh as you realize just how long the older man has been in your life, and in your heart. “He came to my parents funeral for support for Tony, but he became my support system. Everyone seemed to ignore me and go straight for the golden boy, but Tony became too overwhelmed quickly. He introduced me to Rhodey who was the first one, besides Tony of course, to ask me how I was. He ended up spending the entire wake and funeral with me, giving me support and effectively distracting me from my pain.”

You look over at the younger boy, who seems to be staring at you with fascination. He sees the pain on your face when you stop talking, reaching over he grabs your hand loosely. Testing the waters to see if you’ll pull away from affection like Tony has with him. You give him a thankful smile and hold his hand before continuing your story.

“He joined the military not long after that. At first I would send him care packages and letters so he didn’t feel alone when he was deployed. One day when I was writing a letter one of Tony’s flings came into the kitchen and called me a pathetic child because I was crushing on Tony’s friend after I explained what I was doing. He never got that letter, or any after that. We didn’t really talk much after that, if he came to visit Tony I’d be pleasant before locking myself in my room. I guess I was embarrassed over my school girl crush. Years passed, lots of years, before Tony went missing, James was the one that told me what happened. And in those following months he would rarely leave my side, he wanted to make sure I was okay. We were finally both adults, and we gained a real friendship.” 

“That sounds like more than a friendship,” Peter sends you an innocent look. You furrow your eyebrows at him in response, Rhodey definitely doesn’t like you back. “I’m just saying, if Liz was like that with me I would be ecstatic that she liked me back.”

“He sees me as a little sister, Peter,” your heart breaking a little more knowing that you’ll never be able to be with the man you’ve loved for years. Before Peter can refute you, Rhodey’s Neurosurgeon walks into the waiting room- some guy named Dr. Strange. 

“How is he?” you jump out of your seat, Peter quickly following suit, his hand falling from yours at the movement. 

“He’s out of surgery Miss. Stark,” his voice coming out as cocky and full of himself, like he’s overly proud that he did this surgery. “But the recovery will be the difficult part.”

“What happened? What’s still wrong? And when can I see him?” you’re shooting out questions faster than the surgeon can answer.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you Miss. Stark, and you can’t see him until he’s out of the ICU,” the smug look is still on the surgeon's face, making you grow angrier with each word that leaves his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” Peter looks between you and the surgeon with wide curious eyes. 

“You aren’t family,” he states matter-of-factly. “Therefore I can’t tell you and you can’t see him.”

Your eye twitches in anger as your body starts to warm, your powers start to react to the strong emotion. You take a deep calming breath, keeping you from accidentally lashing out at the surgeon. 

“I suggest you rethink that answer,” you say deathly calm, Peter stares at you in awe as you talk back to the man. “And consider who paid for all of the new state-of-the-art Stark technology and equipment you have in this hospital. Things I’m sure that you used in that surgery, that I donated to this hospital through the outreach program that I created. Technology created by both me and my brother.”

“Is there a problem here?” a man’s voice comes from behind you, he sounds irritated that someone’s making a scene. You turn around to face the man, who is wearing a badge that says medical director on it. Perfect. His eyes widen as soon as he recognizes who you are. 

“Actually there is,” you frown. “My colleague, my friend. My favorite person after my brother really, he just had a pretty big surgery, but your surgeon here won’t tell me any details or let me go see him. So yes, we have a huge problem.”

“I’m so sorry Miss. Stark,” he exclaims. “Why don’t we go update you in private.” 

“Did I sound like a bitch?” you frown, whispering to Peter as the two of you follow the MD and the surgeon. He nods a little with a smirk adorning his face. 

“But it was awesome!” you grin at the young boy, remembering the excitement you felt when you saw Tony use his name to get what he wanted for the first time. 

“He’s paralyzed,” the surgeon throws the statement around like it isn’t a big deal as soon as the four of you enter a separate room. “From the waist down. There was nothing we could do.”

Your heart and your lungs seem to stop working at the same time. Peter discreetly uses his super strength to catch you as your legs give out at the surgeon's words. Tears start to pour down your face as you realize all of the things Rhodey will never be able to again. Like never being able to help defend his country again, or chase after you when you steal the last cookie that he wanted. 

You can’t help but feel guilty. If he had never met you and Tony he would be fine. He would still be able to do what he loves. He never would have been put in that situation. He’ll never be able to walk again. He won’t have the opportunity to dance at his wedding or chase his children around if he decided to have either of those. 

“I know it’s a lot Miss. Stark,” the MD’s voice is muffled. “But there was nothing we could have done-”

“When can I see him?” you cut the doctor off. 

“I could take you to him now,” he glares at the surgeon. “He won’t wake for at least a few more hours.”

“Peter, go call Tony and tell him the update,” you look at the young boy, he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before heading back to the waiting room. 

The surgeon and the MD both ramble on about Rhodey’s condition but their voices sound muffled- like you’re underwater. You feel like you're suffocating in all the pain and grief you feel for the love of your life. He’s lying on the bed, oxygen tubing up his nose, at least ten wires connected to him, and the disgusting beep of his heart monitor reminds you how lucky you are that he’s still here with you. 

The two men quickly leave you with Rhodey, but not before the MD promises that he’ll be under constant supervision and he’ll receive the best treatments they offer. Not that you're shocked to hear that with the scene you cause in the waiting room. You grab Rhodey’s hand, careful to avoid yanking the IV in it, pulling his hand up to your mouth to give it a feather light kiss. Tears slip down your cheeks as you stare at his still body, you were so close to losing him today. 

The tears have stopped by the time Tony shows up close to an hour later, he had dropped Peter off at home before coming up to the hospital room. Your older brother looks as distressed as you feel, although he seems to be tryin to hide it more than you are. 

“How is he?” his voice is quieter than you imagined, like he’s afraid any louder will make you crumble. 

“Stable,” your voice is monotonous, and you refuse to tear your eye’s from Rhodey’s face as you respond to Tony. “About as good as he could be I guess.”

“How are you?” he cuts you off as you go to respond that you're fine. “And don’t bullshit me (Y/N/N), you’ve been in love with him since you were eleven. How are you feeling?”

You don’t respond, not with words at least. Instead you do crumble, letting out a quiet sob as you grip Tony’s hand that he was about to place on your shoulder. Tony runs his free hand through your hair and down your back, trying to soothe you like he used to when you would have nightmares after your parents deaths. 

“We almost lost him today Tony, I almost lost him-” another sob racks through your body. “And now he’s paralyzed. He can never walk again, can never defend his Country again. And for what? A disagreement between you and Steve? We could have lost him Tony for something so fucking stupid.”

Before Tony can respond, a muffled voice breaks through the tension in the room. The voice is gravely, but one you love so dearly, it’s Rhodey’s. “(Y/N)?”

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always​

[greenninjagal-blog]

Fool Me Thrice

Hey guys! My three day spoiler free band is up so now you guys get to see what I did immediately after that new video (FwSA) came out! 

Summary: The aftermath of FwSA but Virgil was actually Janus in disguise the whole time. (featuring: Janus breaking down to tears and Roman being really confused.)

Word Count: 4734

Quick Taglist:@alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

“DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX!” Janus yells, but the incessant bubbling in his stomach causes the edges of his lips to quirk up anyway. It’s a ridiculous, intoxicating feeling, and it’s curling around his insides like a snake coiling around its prey. He wants to smile. He wants to jump. He wants to sing.

But Virgil doesn’t do any of those things unless under threat and pressure and Janus has to keep-- he’s still pretending-- Janus is impersonating Virgil.

He’s not doing a very good job of it, and he knows. Ever since that stranger at the food court, that stranger who might be gay, that stranger whose name is Nico Flores and happens to write songs-- Ever since Nico uttered those silly, little words, and Thomas’s Heart and Creativity had swamped the controls, the more….intellectual sides were finding it hard to….think.

Everything’s fuzzy and blurry and Janus keeps trying to hit back that buzzing between his ears that comes every time that Roman and Patton team up and get lost in their contagious excitement. Virgil, certainly, is probably docile by now, flooded with the warm feelings that make it hard to panic over anything for at least another hour because he’s too busy riding that high of the “honeymoon” phase of dating-- before he remembers that it's possible that Nico might be a Serial Killer who lures his victims into relationships before slicing their throats and hiding their bodies in the woods.

He doubts that Logan’s having fun either: he hadn’t even bothered to show up when they had first spotted Nico across the cafeteria, not even to throw out that suggestion of saying “I see from your stickers we have similar interests. Let us discuss the possibility of future copulation now.” Which, of course, spells all sorts of troubles that Janus is going to have to fix later.

Later which seems to be now, because Thomas is jittery from the excitement flowing off of Roman and Patton and he is going to text Joan all about it which requires none of Janus-Virgil’s help.

It’s a flawless escape. Janus smiles inwardly, at the gooey feeling of pride in his stomach. He did it! One whole video, completely undercover! 

It figures that Virgil would be the key. 

Of all of them...well, Janus has always known Virgil the best. Anxiety and Self Preservation have gone hand in hand since Thomas was in diapers still. Janus grew up watching the curve of Virgil’s tense shoulders, watching the flickering of his eyes watching the entry points of the room, watching Virgil’s smirk curl and his eyeshadow bloom and--

And Janus knows Virgil hates him right now, even underneath the gooey layer of good feelings Patton is pumping through all of the Thomasphere. Janus even thinks that if he pops in to check on the little ball of nerves, Virgil will come back to his senses and start a murderous rampage on his way to stop Janus from ever impersonating any of them ever again. Which is definitely what Thomas needs right now. 

Whatever. He can celebrate his victory privately.

Thomas is happy. That’s all that matters right now. The rest can wait until the good emotions in Thomas calm down and Janus can think clearly again: he’ll get out his fermented grape juice and pour it in a glass so he can feel fancy and then he’ll figure out how to deal with Logan, listen to Patton’s emotional-gushing-that-ends-in-overwhelmed-tears, entertain the Duke’s R rated fantasies with a polite smile, congratulate the Prince for his victory, and then after all that he’ll send Virgil a card via messenger dove to thank him for his...bravery.

And then he’ll go to sleep for two hours, and hopefully when he wakes back up Thomas will not be on fire.

That’s… that’s a reasonable hope, right? He’s not asking too much of the other idiot sides, right?

The buzz between his eyes sharpens for a second, as Thomas shakes his hands some more, with a grin that Janus would absolutely die for. It's almost regrettable because if anyone took a moment to look at him, to look at the way he looks at Thomas, they would see immediately what his weakness is: Janus is Self Preservation, Self Importance, Self, self, self. 

He’s weak for Thomas’s smile. The gut force that drives Virgil to do things is protection, so he tries to make Thomas recognize everything as a threat; for Roman its creation, so he tries to push Thomas to achieve all of his dreams. For Janus it's Thomas’s id wants, so he does whatever it takes to keep him happy.

A smile on Thomas’s face means that Janus is doing good, that he’s doing right by Thomas. Who cares if in the end he’s the villain of the story? Who cares about him when there’s Thomas?

Thomas thanks him again-- actually he thanks Virgil, but Janus' face flushes anyway. The feeling in his stomach washes over him, leaving his knees weak and his lips smiling. Is this what being giddy is? He suddenly understands, suddenly, why Patton subscribes to that whole “Thomas is morally and objectively the best” philosophy; It’s a nice feeling, even if it makes it hard for Janus to concentrate on keeping Virgil’s eyeshadow the right color.

Thomas rushes by him-- almost close enough to touch again and wow Janus’ hands were still tingling from that; He forgot that Virgil was always able to touch their host-- and runs up the stairs to go scream in a pillow and text Joan the brilliant news and Janus takes that as his cue.

Time to wrap it up and go. (to sleep. Oh god, he can hear his bed calling for him already.) 

But when he turns back to the last side in the room, Roman is pressing his knuckles to his lips and staring at the blinds in Thomas’s living room like he can set them on fire with his mind.

“Princey?” Janus asks, his own smile slipping. “What’s up?”

Roman snaps over to look at him-- to look at Virgil, whom he trusts and likes and appreciates and who is definitely not Janus at all. Despite that, the way that Roman is looking at him with furrowed eyebrows that would sing of a scowl if Patton had been doing his job just slightly not as well as he is currently, forces Janus to check to make sure he’s still wearing Virgil’s appearance.

“I can’t figure it out,” Roman says, looking like he just caught his best friends in the middle of decorating for his surprise birthday party. “Why?”

Janus squeezes his eyes closed trying to focus on what Roman was talking about. He knows that he missed at least one thing that was said in the hullabaloo all day, but he didn’t think it was something that Roman of all sides would be upset about. Why, what? Roman got the guy. What was so complicated about that?

Actually asking why is more on brand for Virgil.

For a ridiculous second Janus wonders if that was Virgil wearing Roman’s outfit and pretending to be him the way that Janus was pretending to be Virgil. But Janus is decently sure that Virgil can’t resist insulting Janus for more than five seconds at a time, and they’ve been side by side for hours now.

(And hadn’t that been nice? If Janus had just closed his eyes, he could have imagined the grateful smile Roman had given Virgil had been meant for him.) 

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Ro,” Janus shrugs. “But I’m gonna go. All these good emotions are like...disgusting.” He sticks out his tongue that way that he’s seen Virgil do every time that Thomas has to eat the carrots his mom put on his plate just to sell the act, but Roman’s jaw sets.

“Why did you do that?” Roman bursts out before Janus can get all the way out, “Why? Janus!”

Janus should have run then, should have pretended that Virgil hadn’t heard him at all and let the other sides argue with each other, but his name is so new and shiny and no one ever uses it. The words vibrate through the air like needles and the next thing he knows is that he’s pinned in place, frozen, and Roman is looking very not-happy anymore.

Ha, so he knew. Looks like Janus can’t get through a video without being outed.

“I know it's you, you slimy snake,” Roman says. “Will you stop wearing Virgil’s face already! I want an answer!”

Janus’s tongue flicks in his mouth, rolling over the back of his teeth as he tries to think of the best way to handle this when all of his thoughts have to process through the molasses that is the gooey happiness Thomas is feeling and his own exhaustion.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Janus says, as blase as he can make it.

Which is….maybe not his best idea. The buzzing in his head makes the rest of the room go blurry for a second, in and out of focus and it’s so very helpful. 

Roman’s face goes red, stuck somewhere between being angry and being insulted. He reaches out and Janus’ legs do that thing where they don’t work so when he throws his weight back, away, out of reach, his body goes plummeting to the foot of the stairs as well.

Roman yelps, leaning forward for a moment maybe with the intent to help him back up but Janus throws up a hand to stop him before he knows for sure. His eyelids are heavy, he realizes, and he’s tired and he really doesn’t want to have a fight with Roman right now.

“I had fun, Roman. Thank you for the... entertainment this evening.” He says, dropping the last of his stellar Virgil impression. He wonders how long he had Roman fooled, if he had him fooled at all for any point. Does he dare wonder how many of those smiles were given knowing that it was Deceit in disguise?

(He doesn’t and he resents the implication that he cares what the others think of him.)

“Congrats on wooing the boy or whatever.” Janus climbs back up to his feet and brushes imaginary dust off his tunic. Or it could be real. He’s not sure considering that he’s so tired he can’t see anything in front of him.

“You fiend!” Roman snarls, “What did you do to our Stormcloud?”

“Why don’t you go find out?”Janus suggests, with a half-assed flourish, even by his own standards, “Or better yet, don’t. In the meantime, I’ll be in my room.”

But Roman snags his arm and holds him up and Janus is acutely aware that sinking out with another side is troublesome and takes so, so much focus and energy. (And Romans touch is scalding. It’s burning. It’s white hot and Janus wasn’t aware he had been freezing before.)

“I’m tired of this game, Snakes and Ladders!” Roman says. “Tired of not knowing what you’re up to! Tired of not knowing what Thomas wants! Tired of getting backseat to self care and morality and-- and I’m Tired, Janus! Why do you keep doing this to me?!”

And hooooooo, does that strike something in Janus! The soft feelings in his chest burn right up in an anger he hadn’t even known he had been feeling. But it must have been there for a while because it boils right through him, leaving his chest smoldering and his mouth tasting like ashes.

“You think you’re tired?” He snaps, burns, blazes. There’s something in this throat, and it makes every word catch fire when it comes out of his mouth. And even Roman has enough sense to know that fire is dangerous and that he’s going to be cremated if he doesn’t step back.

“You think you’re tired,” Janus repeats, taking a step forward so that they’re nearly toe-to-toe and he can see the way that Roman’s Adam's apple bobs. “What about me, Roman? Don’t you think I’m tired? That I’m exhausted? That I know I’m going to have to sink back down and figure out what is wrong with Logan and listen to Patton and keep Remus busy and make sure that none of you morons overpower the others and drive Thomas directly into the ground? That I haven’t slept a full night since the whole start of these videos and moral dilemmas and whatever else? Every time I turn around Thomas is making another lie: to his friends, to his family, to himself! Don’t you think that I… that I…”

Roman is staring at him.

Janus’s head pounds. The room around him sways and he thinks that maybe...maybe the reason he can’t think straight right now doesn’t actually have anything to do with Patton’s elation keeping Thomas busy.

“Oh,” Janus says because he blinked and now he’s on the floor. 

He blinks again and Roman is right next to him, looking concerned-- how ridiculous. Roman being concerned for him. Ha.

“Janus…” Roman’s voice is low, which makes Janus aware suddenly that everything else had been so loud all this time. He grits his teeth when Roman waves a hand and magics up… what are those, tissues? Why would he--

Oh.

Janus is crying. He reaches a hand up tentatively rubbing away the tears, and has to swallow a laugh. Oh, he's crying. When was the last time he cried? When was the last time he cried in front of someone else? 

He's so, so tired. And that's the reason-- the only reason, mind you-- that when Roman scooches closer, a centimeter, an inch, a foot, and then rests his hand on Janus' shoulder, Janus doesn't push him off and immediately sink out to his room. It takes too much energy to lock a room, even his, from the others and Roman would surely follow after him and demand answers.

Roman’s touch is a shaky, changing warmth. Janus noticed it earlier when Roman had said the word “Bravery” and Janus hadn’t been able to form an actual response because he was so busy wondering if this was how all touch was supposed to feel. But now he thinks he can count every single atom that is touching him and the awareness hums in his veins in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

He sucks in an equally shaky breath and tries not to look like he’s leaning into the feeling. His stomach rolls around, twisting and churning to the point where it hurts. He might be able to blame this on a stomach bug. The other sides probably wouldn’t look farther than that. They don’t like him enough to look farther than that.

“Janus,” Roman says again, calling him by name and Janus wants to tell him to stop. He sounds like he cares and Janus knows it’s a lie. He thinks it’s a lie. He’s pretty sure it’s a lie.

It’s hard to tell right now, especially when his own inner desire is yearning for it not to be. He can’t trust himself when he’s like this. He always ends up doing something stupid.

Like sitting at the foot of Thomas’s stairs crying in front of Roman.

“Fuck,” Janus says, and laughs, like this was part of his grand master plan that definitely exists. He ignores the tissues Roman places at their knees and uses the back of his palms to get rid of those pesky, unprofessional tears. “My most humble apologies, my dear prince. Too much fun today I suppose--”

“Janus,” Roman cuts him off, and Janus wishes his sharp inhale was a little less noticeable. “Are you… Did….”

Janus can feel how Roman’s thumb is rubbing his shoulder, slow circles like a loading screen while he tries to weave together a sentence that makes coherent sense.

“Why?” Roman decides. “Why are you...why did you help Thomas meet Nico? Why did you force him to do it naturally without any lies? I thought you liked when Thomas tells lies!”

Janus snorts, which is a bad decision because his nose is runny and, god, now there’s snot all over his face, which just makes the lump in the back of his throat grow larger. He snatches up the stupid tissues and tears open the pack.

“I don’t--” Janus wipes away the snot, and tosses the tissue into oblivion. “I don’t want Thomas to lie all the time. Do you think I’m crazy, Roman? I have to manage every lie Thomas tells himself! It’s… It’s… imagine if you had to make a new video script every single day.”

Janus can see Roman’s confused look. It's adorable really, like a puppy that just got told to “Stay.” He recognizes that Janus is saying something, that Janus is talking to him, but the full meaning of the words is lost on him.

“If it's so taxing, why do you do it, then?” He asks, like it's some sort of choice and not his job.

“Why do you make video scripts? Why do you help Thomas practice his lines? Why do you take him on daydreams when he’s bored?” 

“Because he asks me to,” Roman answers without a single hesitation. “Wait….”

Janus leans forward pressing his chin to his knees. His eyes close for a moment, two, three while Roman struggles to understand what Janus isn’t blatantly saying.

“Imagine if Thomas asked you to make a new video script every single day. Do you think you could say no to that?”

Roman makes a wounded noise from deep in the bottom of his soul. It resonates in the air between them, like an elephant neither of them wants to admit is there. Janus breathes in deeply, and wards off the fresh round of lovely wonderful tears that come from his lovely wonderful headache.

“I’m sorry about the court case, Roman,” Janus says. The words feel dangerous, like throwing knives and Roman flinches back, leaving the spot on Janus’s shoulder painfully freezing. “I wanted-- I wanted Thomas to do what he loved. I wanted him to stop lying about wanting to go to the callback and I thought that if I just made it so that only you could make the decision it would be easier! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Janus breathes in, but somehow it seems that all the oxygen in the room had dissipated without their knowledge. He gasps a few times, trying to get a steady rhythm back but the white noise in his head and the itch behind his eyes keep throwing him off. 

There’s laughter-- it takes him a moment to realize it's his own. Which is just great, just fantastic, just what he needed. He finally got the sordid apology out and now he’s laughing. 

But Roman is looking at him not with a scowl, but with some other emotion Janus can’t quite name through his blurry vision. For a second he thinks it might be fear-- which is even more funny than the idea that Virgil had been pretending to be Roman this whole time. In the safety of Thomas’s apartment, when Thomas had just gotten the boy of his dreams, when Janus was on the ground out of secret agendas to hide, what is there for Roman to fear?

“I just--” Janus gasps one more time, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. “Thomas deserves a win. You deserve a win. That's why I wanted to help with Nico.” He feels like his head is going to pop right off. Maybe if he asks nicely Roman will get out his sword and do it free of charge and relatively painlessly.

“So I...ha, so I spent all day playing dress up,” Janus hates the wobble in his voice. “And now I’m a day behind on managing all my work and now Patton’s going to want to talk about what happened today, and someone needs to listen to Remus and Logan is obviously not doing too well so I have to check on him-- and Virgil too even though Virgil will probably throw something at me but I have to….And then Thomas is going to need me and I have…. I have to…”

“You really… you really do all that?” Roman says in a small voice that doesn’t suit him at all. “All by yourself?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else to help, Roman.” Janus says before he can stop himself.

“I’ll help you!”

Janus freezes. Because, well.

He’s heard those words before, hasn’t he? Not all that too long ago. When the divide between dark and light was more defined and Thomas hadn’t started posting videos with them in it and Janus wasn’t afraid of the purple door in the middle of the hall.

He knows how this conversation goes all too well.

But Janus apparently can’t learn any new tricks because he still says, “No, I can do this myself.”

(“You’ll kill yourself from stress, Jan!” Virgil had yelled. “Then where will we be?”

“I have everything under control, Virgil! I don’t need any help! Just drop it, okay?”

“Thomas and the Light sides are running you ragged and you want me to pretend like it isn’t hurting you? Are you crazy? They need to stop lying so much!” 

“No! I can handle this!”

“Janus!”

“Virgil!”

“I can’t let you keep doing this,” Virgil had said, “If you won’t do something I will.”

“Don’t you dare!”

But he had. And now he was a light side, an accepted side, everyone’s favorite side. And he was slowly convincing Thomas to stop lying by turning Janus into something to be feared and avoided. How quaint. How trademark.)

Roman is staring at him. Janus can feel the weight of his eyes on him, and somehow that's worse than his hand on Janus’ shoulder. It’s heavier. It’s harder to just shrug off. It means something more.

Because Roman isn’t talking. And Janus isn’t hiding.

And if the words weren’t so hard to say, he thinks that maybe Virgil was right, and he should apologize.

“Huh,” Roman says after the silence threatens to swallow them both. He clears his throat and mercifully looks away, staring at that painting over Thomas’s couch. “I didn’t think you were stupid.”

Janus hisses at him, at the idea of him. But Roman flicks his fingers.

“Oh come on, Ouroboros,” Roman says. “You handle all of Thomas’s lies, and then you’re out there looking after each of us sides as well? I think after 31 videos we can all agree that one side being entire in control of Thomas is a bad thing! So why are you still trying to do everything?”

Janus has a very good answer. The best answer. 

But Roman’s elbow reaches out and nudges him and all his thoughts scatter into the air. Maybe that was intentional, but Janus can’t find the energy in himself to really be angry about it. 

“I…” Janus says, “I just want Thomas to be happy.”

“So do the rest of us too, Snakecrates!-- Get it? Like Socrates?-- Not gonna lie, your way to make him happy is truly… the foulest of methods, but at the end of the day we’re all a part of him.” Roman says. “Maybe instead of trying to puppet master this you could...try working with us? Like showing up as yourself instead of using Virgil’s or Logan’s face again?”

Janus snorts again. The backs of his eyelids shoot bright red stars across his vision. “As if. None of you would listen if I did things that way.”

Roman nudges him again. “It's just a suggestion, Slitherous Snape.”

“How many of those do you have?”

“Nicknames?” Roman pauses, and Janus guesses that he’s counting on his hand. “Dunno. A lot. I never get to use them because you show up in someone else’s clothes and I don’t realize it’s you. All the more reason you should listen to me and just show up as your usual self!”

Janus must have made a noise, but his brain is too preoccupied with the fact that the carpet in Thomas’s apartment is actually really comfy and if he buries his head in his knees the room is actually dark. His headache is a dull repetitive thob, like a drum beat that if he doesn’t focus too much on becomes a noise he can fall asleep to.

“I thought you hated me.” He admits, in a quiet tone and only partially hopes that it was too low for Roman to hear.

“Fool me once,” Roman says in a soft tone, humming like it's a melody. “Shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice…”

He sighs deeply.

“And I think that means we need to actually think about talking out things like adults.” Roman nudges him again, and then places his arm around Janus’s shoulders. “But not right now, when you’re half dead from exhaustion. Let’s get you to your room, Jan.”

There’s a cold feeling around both of them, washing over Janus’s muscles like a flood, as they sink down. His eyes open briefly just in time to make out his own room surroundings before Roman drops him on his bed.

Oh, it’s really comfortable. Has his body always sunk into his mattress like this?

“Get some sleep, Deceit,” Roman says.

“Wait... Logan…” Janus definitely does not whine.

“I’ll handle the nerd.” 

There are so many reasons why that’s a bad idea-- Janus knows there are a bunch of reasons because he wrote them down on flashcards to study in between grieving Virgil leaving the dark sides and managing the lies Thomas tells day to day and the ones he had going on forever and the ones that sides told each other and--.

But before he can say any of that, Roman sifts a gentle hand through his hair and Janus loses the ability to think again.

(Janus really doesn’t remember when Roman gained that power.)

He curls up almost unintentionally on his bed, and Roman makes a noise that could have been a laugh, if Janus cared enough to check.

“Sweet dreams,” Roman says softly.

“W…wait!” Janus gathers the last bit of his energy, the residue from the gooey feelings Thomas was harboring, and surges after Roman before he can leave all the way. “How did you... know it was me? And not…”

“Virgil?” Roman offered. “You kept messing with the eyeshadow, Janus. He has that angsty charcoal color on twenty-four-seven. You kept changing it to purple. I mean I liked it, but that’s not his style.”

Janus frowns. “No….he has the purple when he’s happy. I know he has the purple… He only started wearing the black...when he was trying to freak out Thomas.” He sighs and settles back into his pillow. “It glows...when he’s happy…”

Janus has plenty of memories about that, too. They were some of his favorites: Virgil on Christmas morning when the prospect of presents was more scary than the idea of all Thomas’s relatives coming over, Virgil on late nights watching cryptid history shows with Remus and talking about marrying Mothman when Thomas got older, Virgil right after he first appeared to Thomas, glowing in all senses of the word because their host knew who he was. 

Janus remembers being a little upset when Virgil covered it up, because it was another lie then: Virgil was hiding part of who he was and the three of them had always agreed on no lies between them. 

Besides Virgil had always looked younger with the purple, looked more happy, looked more approachable. He looked like he was excited to see Janus and not like he would rip out his throat if they ended up in a room alone together. 

Virgil was purple long before he had been black, and Janus thinks he might have been in love with him even before that too.

Who had he been talking to, again?

Janus gets the distinct feeling something is wrong, but his pillows are comfy, and his mattress is soft and he’s been running on fumes for far too long. He’s fast asleep before he realizes that Roman is still in his room, frowning, and wondering if that meant Virgil had never actually been happy around the Light Sides at all. 

[rebel-pogue]

Stretch Marks

JJ Maybank X plussize!Reader

request: kinda...?

warnings: cussing, issues with body image, angst, fluff

summary: After a fight with your parents about your health, you plan to spend the rest of your day to yourself until a certain blue eyed blonde finds you on your deck.

a/n: from @maybanktho​ they made a wonderful list of imagine ideas and I had to jump onto this one... tho I do have a couple others from the list im working on as well! I hope you guys enjoy! This one was enjoyable bc it felt really personable but idk... let me know what you think and if you’d like any specific imagine!!

wc: 1.5k

There were plenty of things in the world that you never understood. One, why bras were so insanely expensive. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that they were conditioned into wearing one to be presentable to the public. They were uncomfortable, no matter how “high quality” they were, broke way too easily for anyone’s own well being, and even if you bought one to look cute for someone else, it’s not like it stayed on your body very long in those instances. Another thing you just didn’t get was why or how anybody could be interested in you or your body. Emphasis on the latter.

You’ve always been bigger than everyone else, in size and height. You never knew what it was like to be able to just pull something off the shelf at a store and it fit, nor to have something fit perfectly without it being too loose on your waist, or not fit over your hips and butt at all. Growing up you were constantly surrounded by smaller, prettier girls, magazines that glorified a specific body type, and TV shows and movies that were never inclusive to plus size women. Even if they had one character who was plus size, they were always the butt of the joke. You didn’t know what it was like to love the body you lived in growing up.

As you got older, it got easier. A lot of it was thanks to yourself just generally being tired of being told you didn’t fit “a look”, though more appearances of plus sized characters in TV shows, movies, and magazines helped as well. Instead of feeling that separation between the women who ran the world, you felt a connection finally. However, it didn’t take much for a single comment to plummet your confidence. Then you met the one boy you never realized you needed in your life, JJ Maybank.

“Hey gorgeous.” The smooth drawl gained all of your attention away from the music you were listening to as you relaxed on the deck from your house. Your eyes landed on the smooth-talking blonde who stood at the steps, leaning against one of the wooden posts that lined the short pier that you often escaped to when life was too much to handle.

You couldn’t help the natural smile that came to your lips as you lifted the sunglasses from your eyes to greet the insanely attractive male, “Well, hello to you too. I thought you had work today?” You questioned, watching his movements as he stepped closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

He rested into a seated position beside you, and his eyes travelled your body. You loved and hated when he did this. Your conflicted emotions could never fully convince you if he actually enjoyed what he saw or not, but today he couldn’t see much anyways, which you were thankful for.

“Got out early, Pogues were thinking about taking a ride out to swim...” he slowed his words his eyes finally matching back up with yours again, “Why are you wearing sweatpants? It’s hot as balls outside!”

Your hands instantly found their way to the hem of your shirt, toying with it nervously, “Haven’t had the best morning so far.” You commented casually, not wanting to continue much of the conversation. You hadn’t planned on doing anything with your day after the conversation you’d had with your shitty parents that morning.

JJ tilted his head slightly, reaching up and brushing some loose strands of hair that had whipped to the front of your face. You flinched slightly at his touch, not because you were scared of him but because the small gesture of affection was hard for you to accept sometimes. He frowned slightly, but didn’t bring attention to it.

“Was it your parents again?” He asked, averting his eyes from yours so he wasn’t putting too much pressure on you to answer. You could never fully explain how or why JJ always knew what to say or ask.

Sighing heavily, you pushed your body up, pulling your knees to your chest, instinctively covering your stomach with your arms, “They made their usual comments about how I needed to take better care of myself, how I shouldn’t be wearing such ‘revealing’ clothes, that I should use my money for gym memberships instead of, oh I don’t know, saving money for COLLEGE?!” Your voice grew in intensity and volume as the anger returned to your mind, tears stinging the edges of your eyes. “I mean, it’s like I can’t do anything in life if I look like this.” You gestured towards your body, regaining eye contact with JJ and regretted it immediately.

His bright cerulean eyes were too soft, too concerned, and too focused on everything you had just said. His normally striking and strong features relaxed into an empathic position causing you to involuntarily take a sharp inhale.

“Never-mind, JJ. Don’t worry about it, it’s not your problem.” You said quickly, trying to deescalate the situation and make it seem less important. You stretched your legs out in front of you, the bright sun disappearing into the black sweatpants that hung on your legs. Your mind began to spiral as the memories from that morning circled back and how you had just complained to JJ about something he could never understand.

Pushing yourself off of the old wooden deck, you stood fast, keeping your eyes away from his. Today had started off horrible, and it seemed it was just going to continue in that fashion no matter what you did. You couldn’t fix your body, you couldn’t fix your parents, you couldn’t fix you. As you began to step over JJ, his hand reached out for you, clasping onto your wrist where your hand still clung tightly to the hem of your shirt.

“I don’t get it, like, I really don’t…” You were waiting for the usual ‘I understand how you’re feeling but it’s not that serious’ comment to spill from his lips. You kept your eyes on the ground, not wanting to watch him crush your mentality anymore than it already was.

“JJ I don’t need your sympathy-“ You began, a small tear rolling down your cheek.

JJ stood quickly, grabbing your shoulders to bring your attention back to him, “It’s not sympathy (y/n)! I don’t get how people can look at you and not be blown away! How they can’t just look at every inch of you and fall completely head over heels for you, how they couldn’t fall in love by just seeing how beautiful you are!!” He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide and honest.

Your breath hitched in your throat as more tears fell from your eyes, this gorgeous, beautiful, fit boy just confessed to you right? Is that what just happened?? You didn’t know what or how to process what was coming from his mouth, but he continued, “The first time I saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Your smile was just… nothing like I had ever seen before. Hell yeah I noticed your body, I noticed your hips, your chest…your ass! It’s because I saw one glance and I knew I needed you in my life… and I couldn’t have been more right, for once in my life.”

His hand landed on your waist, resting easily and comfortable above your hip. Your shirt lifted slightly and you could feel the heat from his hand on your side. “…are you sure? Are you sure you want this?” You asked quietly, still not able to tear your eyes away from his beautiful blue ones.

He scoffed loudly, his eyebrows knitting together almost angrily at what you had said, “I don’t want anyone or anything else.” You stated matter of factly and slammed his lips into yours.

It was rough at first, but the passion overtook the both of you and you lost yourself in him. Your hands found their way to his blonde locks, his hands reaching behind you, grabbing onto you and holding you tight. Your lips moved together in motion, his tongue easily making its way through your lips and dancing with yours. You didn’t know how long the two of you stood there in each others embrace, but when you finally broke you both had to catch your breaths. Resting his forehead against yours, he pressed one more quick kiss to you.

“Do you really think my ass looks good?” You asked, looking up into his eyes curiously.

The grin that landed on his face made you swoon, “Oh baby, I would throw away everything if I could just hold onto your ass.” You both chuckled softly, falling comfortably into silence.

A small while later you found yourselves making the short walk towards your house, your hands grasped in his own large ones. “So, you said we’re going swimming right?” You asked, glancing sideways towards him.

“Maybe later, no offense but after talking about you I’m so fucking horny right now and you gotta take responsibility.” He pulled you after him, rushing into your house and towards your room.

[makokoa]

Makoto Naegi, did it hurt when you...?

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC

So I listened to the songs "I Am Not A Robot” - Marina and the Diamonds, and “Human” - Krewella. They really resonated with me and the way that I perceive Makoto Naegi. I want to discuss the suffering he endured during the Killing Game: the obvious, the overlooked, the underrepresented.

Times that Makoto has fallen unconscious in the game:

When Mondo punched him for trying to diffuse the tension between him and Byakuya. “S-Stop it! We shouldn’t fight!”

When he discovered Sayaka’s corpse and fainted from shock.

Post 3rd Trial: When the Masked Assailant struck him from behind when he was looking at a file in the secret room.

After plummeting down the garbage pit following his averted execution.

Makoto found Sayaka’s corpse in his shower. In the anime it’s shown that this didn’t completely deter him from showering later. His room itself was a murder scene but he still had the will to return to it repeatedly. Yes, Monokuma cleaned it up “like the whole thing... never happened” but that certainly wouldn’t get rid of the permanently stained atmosphere in there... It’s subtle but this shows part of the resolve he made after the 1st Trial to “never forget the memories of his deceased friends and carry them forever”. That being said, I wouldn’t criticize him if he wanted to use the public bathhouse instead if the memories overwhelmed him.

Kyoko was the one who tipped him off about there being a revolving wall in the storage closet of the boy’s bathroom. Turned out she used him to test how the Mastermind would react to someone entering and how significant the files and documents she read were. She knew he would likely get attacked and reasoned that he could “handle that kind of thing”.

The pipe striking the back of his head gave him a headache that blurred his vision and made him briefly collapse from physical exertion on his way back to his room. Though this allowed him to hear sounds from the gym nearby which he investigated and found Sakura fighting Monokuma.

Makoto’s fever only lasted for one night. So nobody noticed besides the two people who decided to pay him a visit. The hazy dream/drifting awake sequence seemed to have been made to sow confusion in us viewers and make it so he would have no alibi for the 5th Trial. Though the fever didn’t spontaneously happen. He started off the morning with his body feeling heavy and his condition gradually worsened over the course of the day (though he could still do Free Time Events unbothered) until peaking at night. So he didn’t feel the need to tell anyone that he was sick. He decided not to worry anyone and bore it alone.

Moving on, let’s talk about Makoto Naegi’s execution from the rigged 5th Trial. He was saved by Alter Ego from being crushed into a bloody paste but ended up falling upside-down from a dangerous height. Even if he reoriented himself in midair, he would still land on his back at best. So he was lucky enough to be cushioned by the softest piles of trash to suffer no injuries at all. Also the desk and chair fell away from him somehow so he didn’t hit his head on them or immediately suffer a second impact after a harsh fall.

Makoto must secretly be the Ultimate Lucky Cat for somehow getting out of that mostly unscathed. No head injury since he could still think clearly, was able to stand and walk around to observe his surroundings, climbed a flight of stairs AND a ladder without any assistance or difficulty. He came out of that much better off than when he got a debilitating injury from being whacked in the back of his head.

The writers really underplayed the severity of his situation. His first thought upon waking up after fainting didn’t involve him freaking out about almost dying or being so relieved that he survived. No, it was about how his friend, Alter Ego, used the last of his strength to save him and how he couldn’t give up in honor of his sacrifice (though I approve of how he considers Alter Ego a friend/person).

That’s such a mood whiplash from how during the end of the 5th Trial, he was panicking over Monokuma cutting it short before they could reach a proper conclusion. His anguished cries over how everyone voted him as the culprit. Even though Monokuma left them with no other choice, the betrayal still stung.

Remember in the 1st Trial that Makoto was the prime suspect? Everyone had already decided he was guilty during the investigation. They immediately shot down his attempts to defend himself. It’s like that all over again but with Monokuma talking over him instead.

You would think he would harbor some resentment towards his friends but he has never lost sight of who their true enemy was. Could seeing several corpses and executions have desensitized him to the point where even his own near-death experiences didn’t bother him? I find it more likely that the writers just chose not to acknowledge this.

Instead, they rushed him into instant full recovery so that he could immediately investigate for clues and take part in the Final Trial. At least he got some rest in the garbage pit but he didn’t even get the opportunity to take a bath (neither did Kyoko who literally put herself in a bag of trash to rescue Makoto) so now I’m just imagining how he restored Hope in everyone and defeated Junko... while smelling like garbage. The Survivors immediately made a beeline for the exit after that so the writers really didn’t want Makoto to take a bath or, you know, have him talk or think about his feelings as a person.

You could mistake endgame Makoto as a robot considering how the writers didn’t give a damn about his emotions or overworking his body and mind. His dial was turned so that it skipped over distress straight to optimistic. Because the Ultimate Hope can’t show any weakness, right? Because he, himself, doesn’t matter so long as he fulfills his role of bringing people back from Despair. “After all, the fact that I can keep going forward is about all I'm good at...”

Even though he was physically and emotionally injured, Makoto forced himself forward. After the energy from his determination to end the Killing Game ran out, I believe he crashed hard and got another fever. All his friends helped to nurse him back to health because, you know what? He deserves the love and care that even his own creators neglected to properly provide him.

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp These Are Books: the April 2021 Edition

I did not read Romeo and Juliet this month. I read a bunch of other books. Like, a bunch. More than one series. Because Big Bang burnout is real and grown adults missing their deadlines is a real good way to stress me out. So, I read a bunch. Good books, very bad books, books that caused limbs to flail. For positive and not-so-positive reasons. Naturally, all those reasons must be shared. Under the cut with occasionally long and rant-prone reviews, as well as spoilers. Beware of spoilers under the cut. Please keep telling me what to read, internet. My library wish list is almost comically long now.

GIVE ME ALL THE WORLD BUILDING AND SNARK AND FIGHTING! WITH MAGIC! AND SWORDS! IT’S MY FAVORITE THING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!

Shades of Magic Series by V.E. Schwab

Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.

— Picture it, approximately twelve forty-seven am. My husband is asleep. I am reading. The second book in this series ends. And I say, right out loud, at what might now be twelve forty-eight am, HOLY SHIT IT JUST ENDED. Justin thought we were under attack. No man has ever snapped awake quicker. He was not pleased. At least not in the same way that I was about these books. Which I goddamn LOVED. Loved. The world building. The magic. The banter. Rhy and Kell’s relationship. Once more. RHY AND KELL’S RELATIONSHIP. Which I might have cared about more than the romance??? Maybe??? I cannot get over how good this world building was. I know people have quips with it, and that’s fair. I saw the “twist” coming in the first book, and I think trying to preserve that left some plot holes that are understandably frustrating. Because Lilah definitely needed depth perception to fight as well as she did. Also did Schwab really refer to her as a cross dresser in her author’s note? Yikes. She wore a dude’s jacket, like—c’mon V.E. Other than that though. I loved it. Also shout out to @peglegsjones for suggesting this one in my 2020 post and call out to me for taking so long to read it.

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can't pull it off alone. . . . A convict with a thirst for revenge. A sharpshooter who can't walk away from a wager. A runaway with a privileged past. A spy known as the Wraith. A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums.  A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes.   Six dangerous outcasts. One impossible heist. Kaz's crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don't kill each other first.

— I’ve talked about how little I cared about anything that happened in Shadow and Bone before, but I kept seeing gifs of the Crows in the Netflix show and my brain was like: huh, I could like them. So, after some help from the very helpful internet, I’m happy to report I do in fact like them. At one point, I slunk into the couch. Like that’s how overcome with emotion I was. Kaz ripped a dude’s eye out! For Inej! Matthias loved Nina’s laugh! I would like to hug Jesper. Seriously, this hit all my high points and world building and banter and I lol’ed at “scheming face.” I would like my hold to come through faster on the sequel.

THEY DID NOT CALL INTERMISSION HALFTIME AND MY COLLEGE EXPERIENCE WAS WAY DIFFERENT THAN THESE KIDS

The Off Campus Series by Elle Kennedy

Hannah Wells has finally found someone who turns her on. But while she might be confident in every other area of her life, she’s carting around a full set of baggage when it comes to sex and seduction. If she wants to get her crush’s attention, she’ll have to step out of her comfort zone and make him take notice…even if it means tutoring the annoying, childish, cocky captain of the hockey team in exchange for a pretend date. All Garrett Graham has ever wanted is to play professional hockey after graduation, but his plummeting GPA is threatening everything he’s worked so hard for. If helping a sarcastic brunette make another guy jealous will help him secure his position on the team, he’s all for it. But when one unexpected kiss leads to the wildest sex of both their lives, it doesn’t take long for Garrett to realize that pretend isn’t going to cut it. Now he just has to convince Hannah that the man she wants looks a lot like him.

— The first book in this series was free on Amazon. So, I read it. And really liked it??? It was so chock full of cliches and badly written tropes and Garrett probably should have accepted that Hannah didn’t want to go out at the start, but like—he was cute? And as we all know I am TRASH™ for stories set in the same verse, so, like, I just kept reading these trashy college hockey books. Trashy is a compliment here. God, these kids had so much sex. So much. An incredible amount, really. I once had a guy tell me he was physically attracted to me, but not emotionally attracted to me in college. Like, that was my college experience. The first and second books were the best, I think. I didn’t really like Dean that much.

MAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS A RABBI???

The Intimacy Experiement by Rosie Danan

Naomi Grant has built her life around going against the grain. After the sex-positive start-up she cofounded becomes an international sensation, she wants to extend her educational platform to live lecturing. Unfortunately, despite her long list of qualifications, higher ed won't hire her. Ethan Cohen has recently received two honors: LA Mag nominated him as one of the city's hottest bachelors and he became rabbi of his own synagogue. Low on both funds and congregants, the executive board of Ethan's new shul hired him with the hopes that his nontraditional background will attract more millennials to the faith. They've given him three months to turn things around or else they'll close the doors of his synagogue for good. Naomi and Ethan join forces to host a buzzy seminar series on Modern Intimacy, the perfect solution to their problems--until they discover a new one--their growing attraction to each other. They've built the syllabus for love's latest experiment, but neither of them expected they'd be the ones putting it to the test.

— Ok, I know that sounds bad. Again, I’m a creature of predictable habit and this was the sequel to The Roommate, which I absolutely LOVED last year. But where as the relationship in that one was kind of swoony, this one was...I don’t know, really. Everyone was a well-rounded character and the plot was good, but there was this semi-invisible something that made it difficult for me to get fully on board with the whole story. Honestly, it might be because he was a religious figure?? Also, they got together real quick. Like zero to sixty in twenty-six seconds flat.

I KNOW IT’S BAD, IT WAS BAD AND YET—I CANNOT STOP READING IT???

Too Wild to Tame by Tessa Bailey

Sometimes you just can't resist playing with fire . . . By day, Aaron Clarkson suits up, shakes hands, and acts the perfect gentleman. But at night, behind bedroom doors, the tie comes off and the real Aaron comes out to play. Mixing business with pleasure got him fired, so Aaron knows that if he wants to work for the country's most powerful senator, he'll have to keep his eye on the prize. That's easier said than done when he meets the senator's daughter, who's wild, gorgeous, and 100 percent trouble. Grace Pendleton is the black sheep of her conservative family. Yet while Aaron's presence reminds her of a past she'd rather forget, something in his eyes keeps drawing her in. Maybe it's the way his voice turns her molten. Or maybe it's because deep down inside, the ultra-smooth, polished Aaron Clarkson might be more than even Grace can handle . . .

— Last month I read the first book in this series and it was absolutely ridiculous. This one even more so. The Clarksons are still on the road trip (sans one sibling because she fell in love in a week in the first book) and Aaron was, like, not a root’able character? Very Edward Cullen I’M A BAD GUY, BELLA vibes and his relationship with Grace was so strange. Super rushed again, obvs. Meeting in the woods is weird enough. Professing love forty-eight hours later is decidedly unbelievable. Also there was a kidnapping involved? I totally put a hold on the next book in the series.

COME UP WITH DIFFERENT TRAUMA, I DARE YOU! OR NO TRAUMA. WHAT A CONCEPT!!

The Trouble With Hating You by Sajni Patel

Liya Thakkar is a successful biochemical engineer, takeout enthusiast, and happily single woman. The moment she realizes her parents' latest dinner party is a setup with the man they want her to marry, she's out the back door in a flash. Imagine her surprise when the same guy shows up at her office a week later -- the new lawyer hired to save her struggling company. What's not surprising: he's not too thrilled to see her either after that humiliating fiasco.

Jay Shah looks good on paper...and off. Especially if you like that whole gorgeous, charming lawyer-in-a-good-suit thing. He's also infuriating. As their witty office banter turns into late-night chats, Liya starts to think he might be the one man who truly accepts her. But falling for each other means exposing their painful pasts. Will Liya keep running, or will she finally give love a real chance?

— I had such high hopes for this one. Which is on me, I guess. Because I didn’t hate this one, but it was...not great. Maybe I’m just getting old and crotchety but I am BEGGING romance writers to come up with different trauma for their female protagonists. Not every woman has to have been assaulted to rationalize their current personality. Doesn’t have to happen. Like, ok, yes it does happen. Far more than it should. But that’s an entirely different story, and I am so tired of female characters getting absolutely destroyed by their past only to have that be their defining characteristic for so much of the book. Until a nice man they were initially mean to shows up and he’s UNDERSTANDING and he CARES and it’s just, bleh. It’s bleh. Tired and predictable and I’m over it.

IN WHICH I SHOULD HAVE LOOKED AT THE COVER

Much Ado About You by Samantha Young

At thirty-three-years old Evangeline Starling’s life in Chicago is missing that special something. And when she’s passed over for promotion at work, Evie realizes she needs to make a change. Some time away to regain perspective might be just the thing. In a burst of impulsivity, she plans a holiday in a quaint English village. The holiday package comes with a temporary position at Much Ado About Books, the bookstore located beneath her rental apartment. There’s no better dream vacation for the bookish Evie, a life-long Shakespeare lover. Not only is Evie swept up in running the delightful store as soon as she arrives, she’s drawn into the lives, loves and drama of the friendly villagers. Including Roane Robson, the charismatic and sexy farmer who tempts Evie every day with his friendly flirtations. Evie is determined to keep him at bay because a holiday romance can only end in heartbreak, right? But Evie can’t deny their connection and longs to trust in her handsome farmer that their whirlwind romance could turn in to the forever kind of love.

— Ok, so I had had this book on hold for so long that I genuinely forgot about it and forgot who it was written by. Samantha Young wrote that one book that I called the worst book I had ever read. Only I did not realize that when I started reading this one. So, you see how this sets us up for disaster. Because this book was a disaster. Everyone was goddamn annoying. And whiny. Shit, everyone whined. About everything. Also, the actual writing was atrocious. I am not usually one to be like “men can’t write,” but at one point I told both @shireness-says and @optomisticgirl that this book must have been secretly written by a man because no woman writing it would be so obsessed with pointing out where her cellulite was. Like, what??? Also the first sex scene? Oh my God, I laughed. Guffawed. The so-called love interest literally asked: “Are we going to have sex now?” And then they just did. It was so bad. Also there was a dog? Who went everywhere with the so-called love interest. And they just never explained that? I thought it was going to be part of some crushing and depressing backstory. Nah, he was just there.

HOLY SHIT THIS WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS WAS A BOOK! A BOOK MEANT FOR YOUNG ADULTS! WHAT IS YOUNG ADULT???

The Queen’s Secret by Melissa de la Cruz

Lilac's birthright makes her the Queen of Renovia, and a forced marriage made her the Queen of Montrice. But being a ruler does not mean making the rules. For Lilac, taking the throne means giving up the opportunity to be with love of her life, the kingdom's assassin, Caledon Holt. Worse, Cale is forced to leave the castle when a horrific set of magical attacks threatens Lilac's sovereignty. Now Cal eand Lilac will have to battle dark forces separately, even though being together is the only thing that's ever saved them.

— Remember last month when I was like: can’t wait for my hold to come through on this sequel so I know what happens? What an idiot. THIS BOOK WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE IT WAS A BOOK. As always in my rage-induced rants, no apologies for spoilers because seriously do NOT read this, but Lilac (legit, that was her name) married some other dude but just kept fucking Cale??? Like she had a secret door? So he could come in and they could fuck?? I just—oh my God. So, all these things kept happening. Magic and bad stuff and horses were killed. Lilac’s mother was the absolute WORST. Honestly the most worthless character who at one point was like “well, my story is over, guess it’s time to leave,” and then just left?? Forced Lilac into a marriage of alliance and no love and then everything evil was defeated in point two four seconds. It happened so fast I wasn’t even sure it happened. So, then I’m like, ok, how are Lilac and Cale going to end up together? Because this is YA and that’s how it’s supposed to work. Only her being married and that marriage requiring an heir is something of a rather large hurdle. Don’t worry! Remember when Lilac and Cale were fucking? Everyone totally knew. Including the king Lilac is married to. Who is somehow like...ok with this? And tells Cale that Lilac is pregnant. ISN’T THAT WONDERFUL! Sure, because now they can lie and claim its the king’s heir. ONLY IT’S CALE’S KID! AND CALE IS COOL WITH THIS! His entire internal monologue during this is about how he realizes he might not ever be able to tell his kid he’s their father, but he’ll be around and that’s good. Wait, what??? But there’s more! Not only is Lilac having Cale’s kid, but the king she’s married to is in love with one of Cale’s spy associates. So the king and the spy are going to go hang out (and presumably have their own kids) at one castle and Lilac and Cale are going to go to another. Lilac and the king never get divorced or annulled or whatever. Everyone stays as is and married as is and—they all live happily ever after? This was presented as a good ending, I swear. What the shit, guys, seriously.

[bang-to-the-tan]

Vessel Euphoria Chapter 9 (Final)

► SciFi!AU

Thriller

Warnings: Description of Corpses, Major Character Death, Mind Control, Upsetting Themes Throughout, Alien Parasitism

↳ Summary: 6 months ago, the crew of the space vessel “Euphoria”—destined for a scientific study on a distant planet—dropped out of all communication. You and your fellow crewmates are inbound to reestablish communication with home base, but things are not as they seem and the fate of the mission is placed in grave danger.

Previous    Masterlist        

The base slides smoothly over the horizon like it’s being raised from the ground itself, pulled into existence past fields and fields of gently waving flowers. Your heart sinks when you quickly scan the surrounding area and spot no sign of Hoseok and Jimin still being here. On the one hand, that’s good. It means they haven’t broken down on the main path, nor have they been stranded at the primary base. 

On the other hand...it doesn’t answer for where they are now. 

You set your mouth in a straight line and soldier on, one hand tightening around the steering wheel and the other tapping out the controls on the dashboard to activate the garage door. As it slowly creaks open, you spare a glance at your compatriot. 

He’s stock still. Frozen to his seat, eyes wide and unseeing. Not for the first time, you wonder what exactly he’s thinking about.

“Jeon.” You say after a beat. “I need you here. With me.” 

He nods, stiff, but he doesn’t look at you. 

It’s good enough. Par for the course. At least he isn’t screaming anymore.

You steer the vehicle inside, noticing at the last second that there are decapitated flowers clinging to the front—ones that had been climbing the door while it was stationary, and then snapped out of place when Jimin and Hoseok opened it. The thought gives you some strange comfort. You can retrace their steps on the way back. Everything’s going to be okay. 

You pull the buggy into park, unbuckling and stepping out, followed shortly by Jungkook, whose every movement shakes. 

He looks up, forward to the side entrance, and the heavy metal doors shut behind you with a loud groan, closing you out of the natural light of the two suns, bathing you instead in the bright, white industrial lighting of the garage.

Jungkook is already heading towards the door, keying in the code, and you have to skip to keep up as the door hisses open. 

“Door 1C opening,” the overhead intones. 

“I need you to stay with me,” you reiterate as the two of you step inside the decontamination bay. 

“I am here,” he mumbles. 

“Door 1C closing.”

“I mean, I need you to not run off.” 

“Bay 1, beginning decontamination process.”

He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t flinch when the nozzles ahead start spraying the sanitizing fluid, casting the two of you in a momentary downpour. 

“Jungook,” you say again. It takes some effort to coax your next words out, but you have to ask. You have to, even if he’s going to lie. “Is Namjoon alive?”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath that ripples through his body. When he turns to look at you, his expression past the rapidly drying sanitization liquid is pained. 

“I don’t know.” He croaks. It sounds truthful. And you don’t know if that’s better or worse.

“Door 1B opening.” 

Jungkook’s eyes flit from yours to behind you, widening, his lips parting as if in shock. Your heart plummets into your stomach. You whip around, hand poised to hit the emergency lockdown button on your right, thinking of Namjoon and Jimin and Hoseok and those damned flowers, scanning the bay behind you for any trace of movement, the rush of your blood loud in your ears. The area is empty. Out the window? The garage looks the same as how you’d left it. Empty. 

Jungkook. 

You spin back around, adrenaline suddenly kicking your legs into gear, but you’re too late, he’s slipping out the door, turning, you’re almost there, breath caught in your throat. His fist jolts out to slam into the button to the side of the door. You’re three steps away. 

“Decontamination Process Manually Restarted”

Two steps away.

“Jungkook!” His name tears from your chest like a warcry. 

One step.

The door slides shut in front of your face, just as you reach forward, and instead of his suit, your outstretched hand lands on solid metal. You look to him through the window, fire rushing through your veins, and though in some corner of your mind, you know it won’t give, you’re already pounding on the door with your fists. The lights overhead flicker, casting a strange pallor across his drawn face.

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes through the speaker in your suit, tinny and choked.  

“Don’t—”

“I’m sorry.”

He turns, slow, keeping eye contact as long as he can. You surge forward, clawing at the window as if you could pry it open and clamber through it. Panic skitters through your fingers, up your arms, nesting at the base of your skull. 

“Jungkook, don’t—!” 

He finally spins on his heel, breaking first into a jog and then into a full sprint. 

“Don’t leave me here!” It hurts, it hurts to scream like this, but it doesn’t make any difference. You catch a last glimpse of his form running through the entrance foyer, down the hallway, disappearing past a corner. 

The nozzles above you turn back on, dosing you again with the sanitization, distorting your view of the room into rivulets and waves. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper at the door, slipping off it, searching for a button that would allow you to cancel the process. Anything to speed it up, anything to get you out of this room, give you time to catch up. You should have seen this coming. Why didn’t you see this coming? Hoseok was right. Jimin was right. Shit. 

There’s nothing here that you can use. The button to your left is for communication. The panic switch beneath it is for the door behind you. You’re trapped. You rail against the door again, expletives leaving your lips as a colorful string of damnation and curses, punching, kicking, an outlet for every misgiving and anxious thought you’ve had since you boarded the Epiphany so many months ago. It all wrenches from you in a flurry of emotion, leaving you empty and cold, skin crawling.

The lights above turn back to their usual glaring white. 

Your entire body stills, breath baited, listening for the overhead. 

“Manual Decontamination Complete”

You can taste your heartbeat. Feel every muscle tensing like a racehorse at the gate. Your gaze is fixed on the corner where Jungkook had fled. You have one objective in mind. You’re going to catch him and you’re going to kick the shit out of him. 

You should never have trusted him. 

“Door 1B Opening”

 You’re flying. 

You throw yourself out into the foyer without even so much as a stumble, narrowly avoiding clipping yourself on the door as it slides open. Feet pounding the metal beneath you, thoughts racing, you’re already skirting down the hall, turning left violently, dashing towards the archway at the end. Do you remember the layout? The Euphoria’s base schematics are a little different from the ones you’ve seen before, but from what you can recall, you should have a straight shot at the communications tower. 

Just hold on, Namjoon. You think as you clear the doorway, almost losing your footing on the smooth surface of the abandoned mess hall. The table you pass triggers a memory—the camera log. The birthday celebration. There are still dishes in the sink built into the cabinets lining the far wall. Your heart constricts but still you run like your life depends on it, already reaching the adjoining hall. 

 You pull up short, forced into a halt by the scene that grabs your attention out of the corner of your eye and knocks all remaining wind out of your lungs. Ahead is the pathway to the tower. To the left is the quarantine room. And from here, just past the window, you can see a figure slouched in front of the quarantine’s door. Your first thought is Jungkook, by the dark hair. 

But you know that isn’t right. 

Your feet move of their own accord, pulse deafening in your ears, skin prickling with cooled sweat. You can’t swallow past the lump forming in your throat as you inch closer to the body. Not for the first time, you’re grateful for the lack of smell inside the suit. It’s not Jungkook.

It’s Kim Seokjin. His rumpled jumpsuit partly unzipped at his collarbone. His lips parted, eyes glazed and unseeing. Bile rises in your throat and you have to look away.

There was a struggle. A desk and chairs, overturned, minor blood spatters dried onto the walls. A fight, ranging from the doorway, carried over to the quarantine door. 

The handle, you realize with a sick feeling; the apparent source for the pool he’s sitting in. 

His head must have been cracked against the handle with enough force to kill him. Was he...was he trying to get into quarantine? Was Jungkook trying to force him into quarantine? 

You get your answer when you drift unwittingly closer, pulled by intuition.

Another figure, hidden at first by the short walls of the quarantine room. Curled up, head down, back against the other side of the door. If not for the greened, sickly pallor of his skin, you might think he was only resting. It has to be Taehyung. 

“Everything’s fine, Taehyung! I need to talk to the captain!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

 “You didn’t give me a choice.”

 This time, you have to physically turn away. The world tilts. The ill feeling you’ve been harboring threatens to rise and take you with it, and for a moment, you consider undoing your helmet just to vomit. The only thing that stops you is the thought of smelling the corpses. Instead, you force yourself to stagger out of the room, feeling for the walls of the hallway with one free hand and clutching the other to your chest, challenging yourself to remember your breathing exercises. 

Inhale. 

One, two, three, four. 

You knew they were dead. Hoseok told you they were dead. 

Hold the breath. 

One, two, three—

It’s something else entirely to see it for yourself. 

—four, five, six—

There’s nothing to be done now. They are dead. They aren’t coming back.

—seven.

 Exhale.

Hot tears slink down your cheeks, blurring your vision, choking up your throat. It’s impossible to think straight. Impossible to concentrate. You try, anyway. 

One, two, three—

Jin’s playful, easy-going nature. Taehyung’s extravagant sense of wonder. You almost knew them. Six months you listened to them live their lives and tell their stories. Is this heartbreak? Is it justified?

—four, five, six—  

And what about your own crew? What happened? Hoseok and Jimin, missing. Jungkook, even, gone rogue. You’re alone. 

—seven—

You aren’t. You’re not alone. Yoongi at least, is safe, locked inside the med bay. 

—eight.

And Namjoon. 

Namjoon.  

You have to save Namjoon. 

There’s no reason you can think of for Jungkook to chase a dead man.

 Your feet are unsteady. The tilt of the world seems off, disallowing you your balance, making it all too easy to stumble, to miscalculate where next you’ll step. But you’re moving again. You push all thoughts of Jin and Taehyung to the side. You’ll mourn them later. Bury them later. You’ll do something sentimental, to honor their memory. You’ll tell Central Command. Let them notify the families. Maybe there will be rest for them in the end. Maybe you can rest, too. 

You think of Namjoon instead. It’s such a faint glimmer of hope, but you grasp it and cradle it, and pray that it won’t shatter in your hands. You move forward again, picking up speed down the hall, focused on the door. What if he’s dead? Then it’s all for nothing. All of it. 

 But what if he needs you? 

The thought kicks your body into gear before you have the chance to stop it and you’re running again, stumbling, tripping, reaching, scrambling for the handle and thrusting it down with all your might, unable to stop the buzzing in your temples, the shakiness of your limbs. The door gives too easily, swinging inwards with your force, and you almost fall flat on your face following it, swaying into the room drunkenly. 

 Somehow, you know that it’s empty before you even get a proper look at the place. 

You fucked up. 

In your mind, you can see the diagram. The layout of the base. You can see exactly how you got it wrong. How you reversed it in your head. This isn’t the communications tower. This is the med bay. Medical cots lay about the room, orderly in their lack of use. Surgical tools glinting in the faint light from the hallway. Shit. Shit. 

Your hope dwindles, but as you turn on your heel, you hear a crackle. A series of beeps overhead, signalling the start of an intercom announcement. You freeze. 

 “This is Flight Officer Kim Namjoon, of the Vessel Euphoria.” Your heart leaps into your throat, and even though you know he can’t hear you, his name leaves you in a loud whoop. Adrenaline floods back into your body, urging you back out the door, ears peeled to listen, breath baited. 

Maybe it’s a trick, you think wildly, suddenly paranoid. Maybe Jungkook is playing an old message through the speakers to confuse you. Even so, after six months, you know every half second of those tapes better than the back of your hand. The hesitation, the pauses. The way he takes a breath before he says his name. This is either a new one you haven’t heard, or possibly…it’s possible he’s okay. It’s possible he’s still safe, locked away in the tower. Your pace quickens.

 “I am...making this announcement based on my best understanding. My best intuition. I—”

Something is wrong. He sounds...tired. He sounds...scared.  

“The best decision I could think to make for the sake of my crew.” 

You continue, steps slowing in your confusion and focus. You pass the quarantine room, refusing to look back through the window as you listen intently to every crackle and pop of the speakers. 

“I’m so sorry. We failed. I—as an officer, as a leader. I have failed. I’m sorry.

Using the officer’s recall, I held back the logs of my crew members for months. This was a deliberate action taken on my part. I...I have reason to believe at least one of my crew is unwell. Beyond unwell.”

You halt in your tracks. Your heart is live in every strand of your veins, in your ears, thudding, deafening.

“I have reason to believe he is...sick. To the point of endangering himself. Endangering the mission. The rest of the crew.” 

Namjoon takes a long, deep breath. When his voice comes back over the intercom, it’s shaky. You have never heard that in his tone before. 

“I have reason to believe it’s infectious.” 

 The floor threatens to slip out from under your feet, leaving you teetering on the edge of space. Ahead, the ceiling spins, whirling, blurring, and you have to squint your eyes against the vivid motion of the universe as it folds in on itself around you. Your shoulder thuds into the wall, desperate for some support, even as you slide downwards. 

“With that in mind, and considering the evidence I have collected over this time, I’ve made a decision.” 

The lights above sink into a red glow that bathes you and the hallway around you in an ominous rose. No. 

No, you know what that means. You’ve read all about the color codes for mission bases. Codes for emergency repair. Blue. Codes for emergency transmission from Central. Orange. 

And red.

“No, Namjoon.” Someone is choking, sobbing, coming in through loud and clear in your helmet. It’s you. You hardly recognize yourself. Your voice sounds raw, painful. “Namjoon, don’t do this.” 

You’re staggering back upright, peeling off the wall. Your body throws itself forward, past the mess hall again, lurching, careening for the hallway on the opposite. The red lights paint everything like some horror art film dousing the walls in blood. 

“Namjoon, you can’t.” 

You can’t let him send that code. You can’t let him finalize it. Your mind races. If you can reach him before the message is over, you can stop the relay. You can stop it from getting through to Central. There’s time. He’s making a mistake.

 “I’m calling for a Code Stigma.”

“No. No, Namjoon, I’m here.”

“This is the hardest decision I’ve ever made. But it’s for the best. It’s for the best I can do. I’m sorry I can’t do more. I’m so sorry.”

“We’re already here.” You turn the corner. You can see it. The door is open. Jungkook. He must have made it inside. You can’t breathe, but you’re still moving, still arguing with the intercom between shaking, shuddering inhales. “Namjoon, we’re already here, you can’t do this.” 

“Code Stigma.” He’s choked up, now, audibly trying not to cry himself as he continues with protocol. 

“As marking a planet unfit and unsafe.”

“No, Namjoon!” You’re screaming, feet pounding the grates beneath.

“A mission given a Code Stigma will be discontinued.”

“We’re already here!” You reach the door. 

“And given the nature of the declaration, there will be no return journey.”

“Namjoon, please!”

“And given the nature of the declaration, there will be no retrieval unit.”

“You can’t do this to us!”

 Your knees buckle and you collapse into the communications room, tears flowing freely past your chin. The monitor ahead is filled with the bust of Kim Namjoon. Hair too long, pajamas too grubby. He’s been crying, too, eyes red and puffy, cheeks shining. In front of the screen, Jungkook stands, swaying, like he’s not far from falling to his own knees. His back is mostly to you, busy watching the video as tears stream silently down his own face, eyes flitting to and fro across his commander’s face.

“I’m so sorry.” Namjoon says again, sniffling. He tries to put on a brave face, but his expression crumples and he has to pause to drag his forearm under his nose. “I failed. I failed you. I failed....everyone. Things got out of hand. I still don’t know what happened. Something went wrong...”

 “We’re already here,” you whisper, hoarse. “Namjoon, we’re already here.”  

 “It’s too dangerous. We can’t go home. I don’t know what this thing is, but I know it’s spreading. I don’t even know if I have it.”

 Jungkook cranes to meet your eye, his face just as pained as yours. 

 “Don’t send anyone for us. For their sake. We’ll maintain logs, even decommissioned. We’ll keep researching, as long as we can.” 

 “I’m sorry,” Jungkook croaks. You stare at him, at how the light paints him blue across his face and red from the hallway in his hair. 

“...Code Stigma,” you reply, breathless, scratched. You try to make him understand, he has to understand, he has to press the button, end the signal. “He’s calling for a Code Stigma. Jungkook.” 

 “I will process a full report soon after this sends, detailing my decision.” 

 “He did.” 

“Jungkook. Jungkook, that’s a death sentence. That means we can’t go back. That means they won’t come for us. We—we—but we’re already here.” You can’t draw a proper breath through your throat. It comes out as a rasp. He can’t let it go through. All he has to do is press the button, just in front of him, to the right. He can fix this. “We’re already here.”

“You weren’t supposed to be. H-he never had the chance to send it.” 

Again, you break, already knowing the answer before you ask the question, chest constricting painfully. “Why not?” 

 “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better leader. Please learn from my mistakes.” 

 Jungkook’s gaze slides off you to a far corner of the room. You don’t want to follow it. But you do anyway. Another figure, hidden by the shadow of the door. Slouched against the wall, like the others. Another dried, congealed puddle beneath him. Something cylindrical rests in the pool next to him. It’s a fire extinguisher, you realize dimly. It’s covered in blood. In this light, it looks black. Empty, void. Like a hole in reality. 

 “And...please tell my mom...that I’ll be thinking of her. I’m sorry I couldn’t come home.” 

 A wail interrupts whatever it is that Namjoon says next, beginning as a high-pitched whistle and descending slowly into a bone-deep howl, driven from your chest and throat as it takes all of your hope with it, voicing every despair from the depths of your soul as you shriek, closing your eyes against the terrible sight, curling forward in your position on the floor, scrabbling at the grates beneath you like you could bury yourself under them. Dimly, you feel warmth appear at your shoulders. The feel of weight plopping onto the ground beside you. Body heat, encompassing your miserable form, another voice raised in anguish with yours. Your hands fight back, pushing, but it doesn’t move, and, still screaming, eventually, you give up.

 Your communicator crackles. You’re scrambling for it before you’re even cognizant of the world around you. You must have blacked out at some point, because Namjoon’s voice has gone from the background, the screen blank but for [MESSAGE ENDED] and the lights in the hallway have returned to a bright, industrial white. 

“Officer Jung, reporting. Specialist, do you copy?”

You thrash underneath Jungkook, scrambling for the device pinned to your side. He rolls off easily, hesitant, sinking back into a kneeling position beside you. 

“Hoseok, Hoseok,” you chant, desperately, your voice little more than a dried-out whisper. It takes three tries for your fingers to steady enough to push the button on the side for a reply. “Hoseok, I’m here.” Even though your chest is a vice and your breath is coming in sobs, you have no tears left and can only heave labored noises in their place. 

“Where are you?” 

A deep gulp, a smack of your lips to try and make speaking less painful. It does little to help. “Primary. I took Jungkook to primary. I was looking for you.” 

There’s a pause. 

“I told you not to go there.” he says, low. “I gave you a direct order—”

“Hoseok,” you interrupt with a painful swallow and another breath. “Hoseok, he—Namjoon made a Code Stigma. Vessel Euphoria’s mission is a Code Stigma. Jungkook sent it out.”

“A Code Stigma.”

“We—”

“What were you doing out there?”

“J-Jungkook said,” you throw him a glance, but he’s not looking at you. He’s back to staring emptily at a space yards away, body sagging. “He said there were fuel cells out here. For the ship. I thought I could come collect them and find you on the way. What happened to you? Why were you gone so long—” 

“We had an issue off the main road,” the answer is dismissive, more intent on grilling you, “He said there’s fuel cells out there?” 

You frown. “W-where, what do you mean? Is Jimin okay?”

“You need to get the fuel cells and head back. That’s an order, Specialist.” 

It takes a monumental effort, but you stagger up into a sitting position, beginning to breath hard, brows furrowed in confusion and an unsettling feeling of something not being right again coiling in your belly. “Hoseok, where’s Jimin?” 

“He’s fine. We’ve spent enough time on this planet, we need to get into orbit.” 

“But the code—” 

“For the Vessel Euphoria’s mission. Not ours,” he says quickly, professional and heavy. “We’re going home.” 

 Even despite your misgivings, your heart soars and you lean to press your forehead against your communicator. Home. Going home. Leaving this nightmare behind. Yes. You’d like to go home. With your crew. Out of here, away from this decay and death and misery. The in-office therapist is going to have a field day with all of you, you think with a half-crazed, wry chuckle. But it’ll be worth it. 

Home.

“You also need to let Specialist Min out of the med bay. What the fuck were you thinking, locking him up in there?” 

Another pause. 

“He...I left him the code,” you reply, hesitating. “Did he not see the note?”

“Specialist,” Officer Jung snaps. “I don’t want an answer. It was rhetorical. I’m giving you another direct order. Get those cells and come back. I am in no mood.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Signing off.” 

 “Jungkook,” you heave. You sniffle, blinking rapidly to clear your vision, straightening. “Jungkook, we’re gonna go home. Did you hear that? It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

He shakes his head. Your stomach contracts. 

“Wh—where, Jungkook,” you shuffle forward, catching his attention. His eyes flit to yours, and there’s regret there that you immediately don’t like. “Jungkook, where are the fuel cells? We need cells for the ship and fuel for the buggy.”

He shakes his head again, mute. Frustration mounts inside of you and its all you can do to stop yourself from attacking him. 

“Jungkook. Look,” you try a different approach, “Look, if you help me, if you help us, we can take you with us. We can take you with us, back home. You can get the help you need. We can leave this all behind us. Whatever happened here—we can get you help.” 

“No.” he interrupts. “No, we can’t.” 

“Yes, we can. We have to.” Panic is threatening to climb up your throat and throttle you. You reach for his hands, which he allows limply. You try again to be understanding, calm, but there is so little of you left. Your thumb rubs circles into his knuckles, more of a nervous twitch than a soothing motion. “Just tell me where—”

“Flamethrower.” 

“What?” your voice is a whisper. 

“The fuel. I took the scorcher and made a flamethrower. It’s gone.” 

The path. The path burnt up to secondary. That’s how he got up there through the flowers. 

You shake your head furiously. “No. No, Jungkook, no, it’s, you said—”

“I lied.” He drops his neck to look at you head on now, expression contorting in pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I lied. I had to.”

“No. No.” He’s wrong. He’s wrong. 

“I had to come back out here. I had to. Once I realized you didn’t know. He—he didn’t get to send the message. We can’t leave. We have to stay.”

“No, no, no, no.” You’re pushing his hands away, suddenly incapable of being around him, touching him, looking at him, but he follows your movements even as you scoot and try to stand, his hand still outstretched, now pleading. 

“We can’t. We can’t, listen to me.” 

“No, no, no, Jungkook, no,” you wail, staggering to your feet, throwing yourself against the communication dashboard for support, clutching the keys beneath your fingers for any grip you can get, even as reality slips from under you. 

“Listen, of course it wants to go home. Of course it wants to go home,” he continues, standing with you, stumbling too close, too close, trying to placate, make you understand. You understand. You understand perfectly. 

“I’m not sick, Jungkook,” you spit, hiccuping. “I want—I want to go home!”

“I know you do! I do too. And so does it. And that’s why we can’t go. What happens if it gets on Earth? Please.” He’s sobbing again, reaching for your hand again. Your world spins, tilting sickeningly beneath your feet. The fuel cells are gone. It was a lie. You listened, he tricked you, and now, now….

“Nobody’s coming for us, Jungkook.” You don’t know if you’re even speaking aloud at this point. “We can’t...we have to go home…”

He’s pulling you into an embrace again, and you go limp in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he cries openly into your shoulder. You don’t even have the strength to push him away. 

Previous    Masterlist      

[blairwaldcrf]

we always walked a very thin line - sterling/april

1k. angst. please leave a comment on ao3 :)

.

Sterling is in her bed when she gets the text from April telling her to come outside. A glance from the window shows the girl’s expensive car in the driveway and Luke still guarding the house front porch like a well-intentioned Doberman. She hated tv news and a small town that talked. It had only been an hour since she had arrived home.

It had only been a few more since she and April had ended their-- relationship? Fling?

After she had refused to talk to her parents, hurt and angrier than any teenage in the world-- or at least her town-- had the right to be, she had driven home with Bowser and refused to say more than a few spiteful sentences to her parents. Blair had tried to console her, but just the sight of Blair confused and her too.

In the end speaking with April is better than being in her house. She sneaks out the front door, passing Luke with only a stern warning to stay put because he’d keep her safer there, and walks up to the car. April gestures her inside for privacy, and the second Sterling sits down in the passenger seat she’s assaulted with a constricting hug.

“You're safe. Oh, you're safe. You're okay,” gushes the girl.

The physical contact from the one person in the world she wanted to be with hurt too much on top of the horrible truth of how not okay she was, and in seconds Sterling is crying into April’s shoulder until she can’t cry anymore. April had stayed silent, but when Sterling pulls back she puts that perfect hand back to her face as she had in the arcade.

April’s eyes are big and tear filled as well, so much concern knitted into her expression. “All I could think about was how you could have died and I was too much of a coward..” she gasps, following up with a desperate, “I can try, i can come out I--,”

“No, April.” Sterling manages to say, wishing anything she didn’t have to say it. “Stay safe.” 

Glancing at the front porch where Luke is glaring at the road in preparation to fight off any bad guy, April quietly says, “So I did lose you, didn't I?”

"No that's not-- he's doing that on his own.” Sterling sighs. How could her entire life have upended on itself in the matter of hours? Every single relationship, every one, had now been tainted and changed. “I don't want anyone anymore. People can't be trusted, and even if they could I have no idea who I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Everyone betrays each other.” 

With a sad look, April still softly says, "You still have your sister, Sterl.”

A sob escapes Sterling just at the word ‘sister’ and April’s eyes widen in confusion. Sterling is ugly crying now, not that she had makeup on at this point in the night, but she still hated being vulnerable like this after the lock in. “She's not my sister or my twin… My mom told me I'm her cousin.”

“Cousin?” April says. “Your mom doesn't have siblings. It's in your dossier.”

Pinning that for later-- hadn’t April said she wasn’t important enough for one?-- she continues to let the secrets pour out of her, speaking them out loud for the first time. Every one she loved had been there, after all, and she didn’t think Luke could handle complex family drama in the way April would understand.

“Actually mom had an identical twin this whole time, and the one who commits grand arson on abortion clinics, kidnapped me at gunpoint, and smokes is actually my biological mother.” Bowser would probably have told her to reorder those sins, but Sterling continues. “Not the one who's lied to me about absolutely everything for 16 years.”

Looking shell shocked-- Sterling wishes she could go back to that feeling and not the sinking depression that had come with acceptance-- April fumbles with an attempt at comforting words. “Oh Sterl, I'm so sorry. I promise you can trust me, even if I'm not out we can change. We can be friends at school, right?”

But the words aren’t comforting, as much as they both want them to be. "I'm not safe with you." 

"What's that supposed to mean?” April blinked. “Are you using my dad as an excuse now because you love Luke and I was some experiment?"

Sterling’s stomach plummets. “Of course not--,”

“Then why?” she asks, hurt in her voice. “What aren't you saying?” then, with too much cleverness that Sterling should have expected, April narrows her eyes. “Wait, why did he ask about you and Blair?”

This night could not possibly get worse. “April, no. I can't tell you, I promised several people. God wouldn’t want me to--,”

Her gaze turned cold. “I'll just ask my father then.”

Nervous on so many levels for the safety of both April, Blair, and herself, she begs. “You can't-- you-- he hates Blair and I, okay?”

“What?”

“He just hates us. He can't stand our family and my influence on you with me getting fellowship leader first, you know, sleeping with Luke and drinking and--”

“You're a terrible liar.” April snapped. “Don't make me give you a stress period.”

“You don't understand.”

But April is as stubborn as Blair, the same fire and bullheadedness the second they felt an inkling of suspicion in the air. “Make me.”

Caving after everything, after the emotions involved with keeping this lie in the first place, of owing April the truth, of the horrible evening and how lies didn’t keep people safe if she looked at her own family situation, she rushes through an explanation. “We turned your dad in. We found out that he hurt that prostitute, we got angry, and we turned him over to the cops because he skipped court and we're - - we're bounty hunters. Blair, Bowser, and I. Bowser is great, you should--”

“You what?” April cut through, the same hurt of betrayal Sterling recognized feeling this evening. “You turned him in. You.”

Tears are back in her eyes and she gasps with a small son. “I'm so sorry, April, you don't understand…”

“I can't believe you.” the girl snaps back with vitriol and her own swallowed sob. “You got with me because you wanted intel on my dad.”

Terror rang through Sterling as she spoke, “That is not true, April. I swear, I--”

"Shove it up your ass, Wesley. Get out of my car.”

“April please--,”

“Now!”

So she complies, watching the first girl she loved accelerate dangerously out of the driveway and tried to try her sobbing before going back toward the house. Luke takes her in her arms, and even though she had told him flat out the kiss had been a mistake earlier she still can’t help but let the one constant in her life be a reprieve for a minute.

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