#torn absolutely TORN between refreshing everything or just going i am looking away i do not see it

[soft-spooks]

oh god i havent looked at youtube all day today have they massacred my boy

[mrs-gucci]

There seems to be a darker, more violent take on Clyde floating around right now and I LOVE it!! I’m working on one for him too!

Since you say open for darker requests, I’d love to hear your take on a more violent Clyde! He could be saving you from a stalker. Clyde can show him what a real bad ass can do and then show you how well he can treat you too lol! He could be protecting you from someone at the bar. He could be showing you his special forces skills after some gets aggressive. You name it lol!

Secrets of the Blood Moon {werewolf!Clyde x Reader darkfic}

author's notes: helloooo! my friend shannon, thank you for this request!! I am also a fan of the darker take on Clyde and I hope I did it some justice!! I worked really, really hard on this one, and I’m super pleased with how it turned out.

**PLEASE HEED THE DARKFIC WARNING!! THIS FIC INVOLVES SEVERAL VERY HEAVY AND VERY DARK THEMES, SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!**

warnings: angst. smut. hurt/comfort. a minor car crash. mentions of alcohol consumption. rut. knotting. breeding kink. werewolf stuff. attempted mating bite. murder coverup. clyde feels guilty.

tw's: noncon touching (not by clyde). involuntary attempted sexual assault (werewolf clyde pins her down & dry humps w/o consent, but human clyde doesn’t know he did it nor would ever intend to do it). blood & gore. graphic depictions of murder and violence. human-hunting. depictions of human body consumption (is it cannibalism if he’s technically a wolf when it happens?). werewolf sex.

**this is a work of FICTION. the author does not attempt to condone the actions/behaviors of the characters written.**

word count: 5.9k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​ ​@gildedstarlight (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

Last Night

Stepping out of your car, you’re instantly suffocated by the thick humidity of the West Virginia evening. The sun paints cotton candy across the sky as it sets behind the trees on the mountainous horizon, the almost full moon hot on its tail, slowly rising on the other side of the sky.

The blood moon comes tomorrow, and from the old folk tales your mom used to tell about the deep West Virginia countryside, some weird shit goes down under the crimson moon. You never really believed her. What all could happen in lil ol’ Boone County, anyway?

The moment you step into the refreshing, air-conditioned Duck Tape, you’re immediately greeted by a loud call of your name.

“Y/N!” You smile and wave at Jimmy. 

Clyde looks up and smiles at you as you come and sit down at the bar next to Jimmy. He serves the customer before coming over to talk with you and the eldest Logan.

You lean over the bar to give him a kiss, earning a couple hoots and hollers from the bar crowd, which made you both laugh as you pull away.

“How was work, buttercup?” He asks, wiping off some glasses. “Weren’t ya doin’ that one presentation today? How’d that go?”

You’re always so flattered that Clyde actually pays attention when you talk about work stuff. Most guys just smile and nod, but Clyde actually listens and remembers. He even remembered your one year anniversary at the company you currently work for, sending you takeout from your favorite place along with some flowers.

“Yeah, it was alright. Boring as hell, but the partners seemed pleased, so that’s all I can really ask for at this point.”

Both he a Jimmy give a small chuckle, nodding before Clyde mixes your favorite drink, setting it down in front of you a few minutes later. You thank him, and the three-way conversation continues before the bar door swings open. 

Something about the man’s entrance makes you look over, already smelling trouble as he steps over the threshold. His eyes are glued on you, a smug smirk etched on his expression. 

A hush falls over the patrons for a few seconds, all eyes on the leather-clad man. Clyde’s hackles are immediately up, body tense as the mystery man saunters over, plopping himself down onto the vacant stool next to yours. 

Things on the floor continue as normal, the chatter picking back up, and you subtly scoot a little closer to Jimmy. 

“Bartender?” A thick New York accent calls.

Clyde walks over, plastering a fake smile on his face, seemingly the epitome of southern hospitality.

“What can I getcha, sir?”

The man gives Clyde a once-over and snickers. “No, seriously, where’s the bartender? I’d like a drink.”

Your grip clenches around your glass. You absolutely hated it when people were dicks about Clyde’s hand.

“Seriously, I am the bartender.” He states firmly. “So, what can I get ya?”

His tone sends a chill down your spine. Normally, Clyde just shuts down whenever someone starts poking fun at his missing hand, but tonight, there was a certain air of frustration, of dominance.

You just thought he’d finally cracked, after years of dealing with this bullshit. But as you would learn, there was an alternate explanation for his sudden outwardly alpha-like behavior.

The guy seems to back off a little bit, just asking for a cold Coors straight from the bottle. You startle a bit when Clyde slams the bottle down on the counter in front of him, and you could swear his eyes turn a light grey for a second before returning to the dark brown pools you’re familiar with.

Everything’s quiet for a little while, the man sipping his beer in silence, before he turns to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, simply allowing his eyes to drink in your seated figure.

“What’s your name, baby girl?” The beer smell of his breath is strong as he leans in. “You lookin’ for someone to keep you company tonight?”

You roll your eyes. Douchebag. “Nope. I’m perfectly content just sitting here, thanks.”

Clyde’s watching the interaction like a hawk as he makes someone’s drink. It’s a wonder he can concentrate on the drink when his thoughts and eyes are glued to you.

His slimy hand touches down on your bare thigh, just above your knee, and you jump in your seat. He grins, trailing it up as he leans in even closer.

“Are you sure? I could show you a real good time...”

Glass shatters from behind the bar and then, Clyde’s grabbing the man by his biker jacket, tossing him onto the floor with an almost superhuman strength. You stand up, appalled, as the man on the hardwood scrambles to get up.

An icy grey begins to frost over his sweet chocolate irises as Clyde clenches his fists by his side. 

“Don’t ya dare touch ma girl, ye pervert.” He growls, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Someone ought to show ya what respect looks like.”

The bar has fallen pin-drop silent, all sets of eyes focused in on the developing scene. He cocks his fist above his head, snarling as he readies to pounce on the helpless man. 

It’s then that Jimmy hops up and puts himself between the two men, holding his hands up in front of Clyde. “Don’t do this t’ yerself. Ye know what’ll happen if ya do.”

This seems to bring him back, the warmness flooding back to his irises. His shoulders slump as he huffs softly, pushing past his older brother angrily, storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Shakily, the man stands and puts a twenty down on the table before running out of the bar, bell jingling against the wooden door as it eases shut after him.

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

The rare blood moon hangs in its place against the pitch black sky as you pull up to the Logan’s trailer home. There aren’t any stars in the clear night’s sky, despite it being the dead of summer, but you don’t think much of it as you approach the shadowed porch.

Moths flutter around the dimly flickering porch light while you peek through the windows, which were as black as the night. Not a single light was on.

Odd. The Pontiac’s parked in its normal spot outside.

You flip the threadbare ‘welcome’ mat up, revealing the rusting gold key beneath. Sticking it in the lock, you turn until the door pops open, an eerie creak accompanying it.

"Clyde?” You say, looking around the trailer’s living room as you flip the living room lights on.

You call for him again. Maybe he’s just taking a nap. “Clyde?”

Still no response. 

Now, you’re getting worried. There’s no note, nothing noticeably out of place; in fact, it’s almost all too still. It gives you the creeps, how still and quiet it is in here.

The scent of suspicion thickens the air around you, and you just get the most awful feeling in your gut that something bad is happening or is about to happen.

Adrenaline begins to pump through your veins as you quickly walk around, peeking in the kitchen, and in the spare room. The air seems to thicken again the closer to draw to Clyde’s room, and you push the door open with bated breath.

You’re absolutely mortified at the sight before you. 

Shreds of carpet, fabric, and mattress stuffing is scattered the floor, and giant claw marks have torn straight through the drywall. The blankets and comforter, at least the remains of them, are disheveled where they lay across the clawed-up mattress. 

His vanity mirror is almost fully shattered, and the products that once sat atop are now tossed across the floor. The chilly summer’s night air flutters the curtains on the opened window above the bed.

The first thought that comes to mind is a bear attack of some kind. Now fully freaking out, you’re wondering how in the world a bear got into the trailer, and why it only seemed to attack Clyde’s room. You scramble to grab your phone from your purse with shaky hands, dialing Jimmy’s number in haste.

Was this one of the blood moon enigmas mom warned about? No, no, bear attacks are pretty common around here.

 It takes a few rings before he picks up.

“Y/N?” He sounds out of breath, exhausted.

“Jimmy, hey. Do you know where Clyde is? I’m at the trailer, and--”

Something that sounds like a growl rips through the speaker, followed by a woman’s voice. 

“Is everything oka--”

“Mellie, I can’t help ya right now! I’ll be there in a second!” He yells in the background. “Sorry Y/N, you were sayin’ somethin’?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just at the trailer, and I peeked into Clyde’s room...”

“Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?” His voice is rushed.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, no, but--”

The growl comes again, louder this time, and it almost sounds like it’s...a voice. A very deep and very animalistic one, but a voice nonetheless. And it was saying something, although you couldn’t really hear clearly enough.

“Jimmy, do you know where Clyde is?” You’re getting a little impatient.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Clyde, he’s okay, he’s, uhh, here with us.”

“Oh, uh, o-okay.”

But tonight was supposed to be your special night together.

“Y/N? Listen real close, now. I need ya to get outta the trailer and go home, right now. Don’t linger, and refrain from touchin’ anything in the trailer. Lock all yer doors n’ close all the windows when ya get back home, okay? ‘N don’t go outside for the rest’a the night.”

Okay, now you’re starting to get fearful. “What--”

“Jimmy!” Mellie’s panicked voice comes through the phone speaker again, this time a bit clearer. He curses under his breath.

Her cries clearly rattled the eldest Logan, and he quickly tells you to just do what he said and then hangs up in a frantic state. 

You’re frozen for a moment, but then you quickly scurry outside to your car, frantically looking around as you scramble to fit the key in the driver’s side door.  By some miracle, you hold your hand steady enough to unlock it, quickly shutting the door and turning on the engine, peeling out of there like a madwoman.

Suddenly, as you go to pull out of the driveway, a strange apparition appears at the edge of the wood across the street. You squint, trying to figure out what the hell it is. Whatever it is, though, it’s panting heavily and looks...inhuman.

It’s standing on two legs, but its large, probably almost seven feet tall if you had to guess, and must’ve had some type of black fur or skin since it almost blends in with the darkened forest.

The reddish light of the moon is the only light that reflects upon this mystery creature, before it seems to notice your car idling in the driveway. The crisp light grey pupils seemingly glimpse into your soul as the creature looks upon you.

Clearly, now, you can decipher what exactly it is, although you’re in utter shock and skeptical to think it real: A werewolf.

You quickly put the car in reverse, slamming down on the gas, flying backwards for a few seconds before colliding with the trailer’s tin wall. Your head slams forward onto the steering wheel, trickles of blood dribble down your forehead and nose as your consciousness is lost.

When you come to, only a few minutes later, you groan as the welt forms on your forehead. You look around, groggily, seeing that your car is in drive but isn’t moving. Surely when you’d passed out, your foot would’ve come off the brake and you would’ve rolled away...

Stepping out carefully, you find that some bricks have been placed in front of all four tires, effectively keeping the car at a dead standstill. 

Who in the world did this?

Then, you turn your head and walk slowly around to the front of your car, seeing the remnants of sharp teeth marks on your bumper. You’re frozen, a lump slowly crawling up your throat as the realization hits. 

A low growl comes from behind you, and your worst fears have suddenly been realized. You slowly, carefully spin around on your heels, afraid that one wrong move may make you tonight’s surprise entree.

Your eyes meet the soul-piercing grey’s of the werewolf, the one you’d seen at the edge of the forest minutes earlier. The one that seemingly saved your life, but...how did a werewolf know what to do?

As you continue to gaze at the large being before you, you’re struck with a sense of familiarity, almost as if you’d met them before. Strange, because you can’t recall ever encountering a werewolf. Hell, you’ve never even seen a wolf before, other than in pictures. Surely you’d remember coming into contact with a seemingly impossible biological phenomenon such as this one.

His presence is scarily comforting, and you find yourself briefly wondering what it’d feel like to be enveloped in his woolen arms. Well, arm, technically speaking. This particular werewolf seems to be missing the lower half of his left paw.

Then, your mind connects the dots, and you’re shocked to your very core. It wasn’t a bear that attacked Clyde’s room, it was Clyde. This werewolf that’s standing before you is Clyde. That’s why Jimmy and Mellie sounded so frantic and breathless on the phone; they must’ve been trying to keep him contained.

But why? Werewolves usually recognize the important people in their human lives...right? That’s why he’d saved you from rolling off...

Your headlights’ reflection was speared by your figure, creating a shadow that covered most of Clyde’s form, except for the very tips of his paws, which had enormous claws emerging from beneath the thick layer of fur.

“Clyde?” You whisper, and he seems to soften for a moment, falling down on all threes.

Just as you swallow the lump in your throat and begin to cautiously approach the creature, hand outstretched to allow him to smell you, his eyes suddenly darken, the once snowy grey now more like the color of storm clouds. 

He snarls, white teeth shining in the moon’s moody crimson-tinted reflection, and you immediately backtrack. Oh god, I’m fucked.

Your bottom collides with the front of your car, the engine thrumming lowly as it idles happily, grille warm from the machine inside. The headlights are now fully shining on the creature, fur shining under the bright lights as he approaches, lines of drool strung between his sharp fangs. 

“C-Clyde, please,” You plead with the creature. “It’s m-me, Y/N, your g-girlfriend. You know m-me, you don’t w-wanna do t-this...”

It doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade him, the animal within now overshadowing the kind, gentle man you know and love. No, this creature is something else. This isn’t your Clyde.

The wolf stops short of the hood, where you’ve crawled up onto and are laying back, raising his nose up in the air, sniffing. You’re perplexed by this action, but it becomes evident when his ear prick and he says, in that same deep, animalistic voice that was in the background of your call with Jimmy, 

“Mate.”

And then, he’s pouncing, trapping your hands above your head with his one arm while his legs scramble to find a good grip on the metallic surface of the car, hips rutting frantically. 

His muzzle dips down, wet nose running along your jawline and neck, teeth scraping dangerously against your thin skin. He quickly settles on a spot behind your ear, growling as his pink tongue darts out to begin lapping at the spot. 

You’re completely still, both physically restrained and unable to bring yourself to even try to move as the creature drags his fangs across the skin behind your ear. Your car is rocking back and forth with his hips’ violent movements, dragging his enormous cock against your lower stomach. 

He pants into your ear, breath hot as he prepares to sink his sharp fangs into your tender skin, marking you as his forever...

“CLYDE!”

Jimmy’s voice pierces through the still of the night. Crickets stop chirping for a moment, and Clyde’s body stills. His head whips around, snarling at his brother.

Mellie’s right behind him, and she peers around him, trying to look at you. “Y/N, are ya alright?”

“YYYeah,” You manage, somehow. “I-I’m o-okay.”

Clyde hops down, all three feet planted on the ground, hackles up as Jimmy takes a step forward. “Mate.”

“She ain’t yer mate.” Jimmy says, calmly. He points to you. “Look at whatcha done to ‘er, Clyde. Would a mate look like that, huh? Look at ‘er, Clyde, she’s all beat up and scared outta her damn mind.”

The wolf visibly stands down, slowly turning his head to look back at you, seeing the scratches on your wrists and the marks on your neck. He sees the bit of wetness on your shirt and shorts, from his slick.

He hangs his head and begins to cry, whimpering and whining as he sprints off, surprisingly agile and quick for a wolf with three paws, across the road and back into the woods.

His blood’s boiling, he’s angry that he couldn’t defend you against Jimmy, mad that his alpha instincts had failed him. Even as a werewolf, one of the most powerful beings in the forest, he was still weaker than and overshadowed by his showboat older brother. 

Loud barks of anger rip through him as he masterfully maneuvers through the forest, weaving through the trees, dodging thorns, leaping over the fallen tree trunks. 

The sky suddenly begins to empty down onto Earth, the cool summer night’s rain a welcomed refreshment on Clyde’s fur. He looks up at the blood moon, huffing softly as he silently curses the orb for bringing this condition to him each full moon, as he did every single moon before this, and will continue to do with every one after.

He reaches his cave a few minutes later, stopping dead in his tracks when he smells smoke coming from inside. He’s on high alert, now, as he moves to peek into the cavern.

There, he finds a lone man sitting by a very small fire, rubbing his hands together over the heat. He’s clad in head-to-toe tree camo with a shotgun laying just out of arms reach.

This man’s scent feels awfully familiar, Clyde thinks, but it takes him a minute to figure out why. And, when he does remember, Clyde is suddenly not so sympathetic for the unwanted visitor in his cave.

The wolf’s mind falls to a certain memory from last night at Duck Tape. This is the jackass that thought he could get away with feelin’ you up. The one that poked plenty ‘a fun at his missing hand. 

Clyde’s still-hard cock presses up against his furry stomach in excitement, tongue licking over his razor-sharp fangs. He couldn’t protect or avenge you last night, again due to Jimmy, but maybe he can now. 

Jimmy ain’t gonna get in my way this time ‘round.

He can’t just come running into the entrance, no, that allows him too much time to grab the gun. He thinks, and thinks, until he remembers the connecting cave that he’d recently found on the last full moon. He bets he can get in there and creep up behind the man, do a sneak attack. 

He’s salivating in anticipation as he bounds down to the opposite side of the cave, paws padding lightly against the soft gravelly dirt floor, trotting along carefully.

The man is none the wiser to the wolf’s presence, and the hum of the loud rain certainly wasn’t hurting. A loud crack of thunder suddenly rips through the forest, vibrating the ground. Clyde freezes briefly as the young man curls up further, chin resting in the gap between his knees. 

Predatory instincts pumping through his veins at an all-time high, he crouches down as he stalks closer and closer to the unsuspecting body by the small fire. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, now right behind the man, moving in slow motion so as to not alert his victim.

When the time is right, just as the next clap of thunder rumbles the rocks, Clyde pounces. He grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him out of the cave with an unprecedented swiftness. The fire is extinguished with the tussle, leaving the cave shrouded in darkness, the shotgun laid abandoned on the ground where he’d put it.

He struggles against the wolf’s grip, fabric ripping violently the further his body’s dragged along. Clyde throws him out onto the forest floor, pawing at the ground like a wild stallion as the disheveled man scrambles to his feet.

His hands are shaky as he holds them up in front of him, as if trying to calm the creature like a domesticated dog.  “E-Easy, easy.”

If he could, Clyde would’ve rolled his eyes at the man’s pathetic attempt to talk down at him. He snarls, watching in amusement at the way he startles and stumbles back. 

Clyde’s got the man backed against the trunk of an old oak within seconds, and he stands up on two legs, glaring at the much smaller figure. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s version of a devilish grin.

“Run.”

It seems like the man is caught in between being shocked that this wolf just spoke English and being chilled to the core by his word. He sputters for a moment, brain smoking as it churns on overdrive, before his legs carry him as quickly as they can down the mountainside. 

The wolf casually trots along after him, in very little rush to catch him. He’s throbbing hard now, the excitement translating into pure arousal. Clyde knows these woods like the back of his hand; there’s no where for this man to hide from his inevitable fate as the wolf-man’s next meal.

His head continuously whips around, meeting the grayish-white orbs tucked behind a thick coat of jet black fur. In a frenzy, he tucks himself behind a large tree, catching his breath.

Twigs snap in seemingly all directions, his breath heavy as his eyes flicker all around the dark, damp wood, the only light coming from the crimson-tinted orb above. He reaches back and wraps his arms around the tree’s trunk, panicked.

A low growl rattles his eardrums and he looks to the side, seeing the black creature right at his side. Clyde’s head snaps to the side, looking directly at his victim.

Crying out in fear, the man leaps forward to make a run for it, but is quickly taken to the dirt by the wolfish creature. The man squirms and screams out for mercy, for God, and Clyde knows what he has to do now.

He quickly sinks his teeth into the back of the mans neck repeatedly, effectively severing the spinal cord, leaving the man completely limp and defenseless. A quick and effective manner of disabling a victim, he’s learned through hunting animals, but keeps him just alive enough to see what’s being done to him. 

Clyde flips the limp form over, now on his back, and his eyes are wide as he watches the wolf above him, black fur now stained red around the mouth, stare down at him with a hungry gaze.

His mouth opens, probably to beg for his life, but it’s too late. Fangs sink through his shirt and into the flesh of his chest, just above where his rapidly beating heart lay.

The thump-thump rhythm slows, then stops, the life leaving his body. Sweet copper tang coats the wolf’s tongue as the body is drained of its remaining energy. 

There is little feeling better than watching the life slowly and steadily drain from the eyes of a victim, and suddenly, Clyde’s throbbing arousal has reached an almost unmanageable point.

But, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to devour his freshly-caught prey, especially while it’s still warm. So he digs in immediately, carving further into the hole over the heart he’d already created, ripping out the vital organ.

He holds it triumphantly between his teeth for a moment before setting it aside. His craving is more for the meat, he’s never been much of a fan of organs, so he gets to work separating the good meat from the corpse.

Once he’s done, he lifts his nose in the air, howling loudly. He’s never been this hard before, he swears it, and there’s only one person that can satisfy this urge:

You.

For a wolf on three legs, he reaches your house in record time. He can already feel the wolf-ness fading steadily, the human beginning to peek through the cracks. But, his rut doesn’t give at all, and he bounds up the steps and scratches at your door.

You’re startled by the noise, already a gut feeling you know who it is. When you open the door, Clyde’s wolf figure is sitting politely on your doormat.  Should you let him in?

He pushes past, whimpering as he does so, before you can make a decision. You shut the door slowly before turning around to face the creature. He seems a bit different than when you saw him earlier, seeming a bit more human.

You stand against the door, back pressed up against it, looking down at the wolf in your living room. 

“Y/N.” He breathes, huskily, attempting to ignore the hardness pressing up against his wooly stomach. “N-Need you. Please.”

He’s ashamed as he stands up on his hind legs, wrapping a clawed hand around his oozing cock, jutting his hips out as if to show off for you. The alpha in him needs to show you how suitable of a mate he is, what strong pups he can give you.

“It hhhhurts, b-buttercup.”

The battle going on inside him, animal versus human, is painfully evident on his expression. Your hearts been ripped in half as you watch him struggle with himself, the human trying to overpower the animal, and the animal trying to fight off the human.  He doesn’t even know what he did to you earlier. 

“What do you need from me, Clyde? I’m here to help you, honey, I’ll do whatever you need.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but its quickly replaced by a look of what can only be described as pure, primal hunger.

“Floor. A-All fours.” The wolf-man manages, desperately humping his hand to offer some relief. “G-Get the lube, ffffuuuck, I mmuhhmight hurt ya without it.”

You rush to get the lube, placing the tube next to you as you pull your leggings down, exposing your bare cunt. Clyde watches with an eager anticipation as you spread yourself for him. 

As soon as you’re into position, he practically falls over on top of you, hips rutting uncontrollably as he smoothes lube over his drooling cock and lines up with your entrance. 

“B-Buttercup, I...I’m sssorry ‘bout what’s ggon’ happen. This ain’t me, ppuhpplease remember that, mmkay?”

You nod, tearing up at the pure agony in his voice. “I w-will, Clyde.”

His hips shove forward, a choked howl escaping his lips, balls tightening. You cry out, the burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his girthy length more prominent than usual.

Veins bulge out of his neck, jaw clenched as he begins moving, mercilessly plowing into you from behind. He plants his clawed hand next to yours, loud and desperate scratching noises accompanying the wet squelch of your joined torsos. 

The carpet is shredded, hardwood floor scratched permanently by his feet as he humps you with a desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. This really wasn’t Clyde, but you soon realized that you exactly mind this side of Clyde, this primal instinct, this roughness. It was arousing, bittersweetly so.

When you look over your shoulder at the wooly mass moving behind you, your eyes widen. You didn’t notice the shiny substance from a distance, but now that he’s up close, you see that it coats his snout and has even dripped down onto his breast.

A gripping fear bubbles in your stomach. But then, you rationalize immediately, before you find yourself too deep down in this rabbit hole of worry. He probably just hunted a deer or a rabbit or something. He’s a fucking wolf, remember?

You almost sigh out loud in relief, but you keep it in, instead moaning along with each of his thrusts.

“D-Did ya like muhmmahhmm--ma w-wolf cock?” He asks. 

You nod. “Y-Yeah, ohhh god, I liked it.”

“Gonna gguh-give ya real nice p-pups.” His muzzle rubs over the spot behind your ear, the same one that he’d been after earlier, smearing some of the crimson across your skin. He licks it with as much consistency as possible, considering the speed and intensity of his hips. ��F-Fill ya u-up, knot ya gggood ‘n deep.”

You’re almost positive he’s talking pretty much nonsense at this point, his rut brain having completely taken over. You know you’re not gonna cum, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re doing this for him, after all.

“Oh g-god, I’m cummin’, I’m gonna--”

He pauses his hips, howling softly as he cums. But this time, something else begins to swell, and you cry out as it does so. 

“M-Ma k-knot,” Clyde breathes in explanation. “Keeps it a-all inside y-ya.”

You nod, not really knowing what all he’s talking about but not really caring for an explanation right now. 

“‘m gonna h-havta stay inside y-ya fer a lil while. S-Should be ‘b-bout 30 minutes or so.”

His tongue begins moving over your cheeks and neck, something that makes you smile, that helps you remember that your beloved boyfriend’s in there somewhere.

The half hour waiting period passes, and as much as you’ve loved snuggling with your boyfriend (who’s wolf counterpart is relatively cuddly, despite previous reservations), you’re happy to have him off you.

After wishing you a final goodbye, citing the need to ‘clean up his cave a bit’, he trotted back out the door and galloped like a madman (wolf?) back out into the shadowed wood, leaving you alone once more.

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It’s all over the news when you flip on the TV a couple days later.  Hunter Found Slain in Boone County Woods, Bear Attack Suspected.

You have this awful, sick-to-your-stomach feeling that what happened the other night, when Clyde came to your house still in wolf form with a snout and chest covered in blood, had something to do with this. 

When the picture of the victim came up on the screen, you audibly gasp, recognizing the face. It’s the guy that was feeling you up at a few nights ago at Duck Tape. 

Oh god, no. 

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Clyde’s panting as he rushes in and shuts it behind him. He looks pained, bottom lip trembling. “Have ya s-seen the ne--”

“...Police are still investigating the scene...foul play has not yet been ruled out...”

His entire demeanor falls, and the tears fill his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You stand up and rush over to him just as he collapses on the floor. 

You’re freaking out, trying to confirm what it is you’re pretty sure you already know.

“C-Clyde, did you...?”

He looks up at you from where his head now rests in your lap. “I c-can’t quite remember, b-but I think...I think I m-might’ve.”

Sobs wrack through his body as he cries hoarsely. You’re in shock, somehow hearing the words makes the reality suddenly hit like a damn semi-truck. You run your hands through Clyde’s slightly matted mane, soothing him as best you can. 

“Clyde, it’s okay, baby. It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah it i-is, though. I k-killed ‘im.”

You try to stay strong, for Clyde’s sake, but the tears are swelling in your eyes at an uncontrollably fast rate.  “But you d-didn’t do it o-on purpose, h-honey.”

His face seems to drop even more when he sees that you’re about to cry. He sits up shakily, pulling you into a big ol’ bear hug.

“Oh, buttercup, oh god, ‘m sorry. I didn’t m-mean to drag y-ya into all ‘a t-this.”

You sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. It’s hard to believe that this man, this kind, gentle man, could’ve done something like this on purpose. Clyde would never hurt a fly.

From what he’s told you, which granted is very little, the line between werewolf and human for him is quite a blurry one. He seems to only be able to remember parts of what happened, and his subconscious is only there for part of the time.

Which means that he’s technically innocent, since he can’t remember nor could he control his canine impulses or instinct. As far as you’re concerned, werewolf Clyde and human Clyde are two different beings.

“I-If anyone ever f-found out ‘bout ma c-condition...”

You pull away and look up at him, holding his face in your hands. “Clyde, I-I’m not gonna turn y-you in.”

“What?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, like he’s surprised to hear your words. “Y-Yer not g-gon’...?”

Shaking your head, you swing your leg over his lap, hugging him once more while your face settles into the crook of his neck.

“No, of course not. I know you’re a good p-person, and like I said before, it’s n-not you. Your w-wolf side is not really you, Clyde, at least not entirely.”

Clyde looks down at you with an incredibly grateful expression, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts your head up with one of his meaty fingers, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is relatively short, just a showing of his gratitude, of his love for you. When he pulls away, you maintain eye contact.

“Okay, so most of the solid DNA evidence will have been washed away by the rain and tampered with by the elements over the past few days that the body’s been outside. Plus, they aren’t looking for wolf DNA, and even if they somehow knew, your wolf DNA wouldn’t lead to your human identity, at least I don’t think so...”

Hours and hours of watching countless true crime shows, movies, and documentaries are finally paying off.

“But, do you remember leaving anything, anything that could indicate foul play? Really search your memory.”

He puts his metaphorical thinking cap on, closing his eyes as he tries to recall anything of use from that night, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes swell with tears as they blink open and he shakes his head. “I can’t ‘member anythin’.”

“That’s okay, Clyde. They won’t find out, I promise, they won’t.” You kiss his neck. “For now, let’s just try to relax and we’ll keep an eye on the news. Will you come snuggle on the couch with me?”

Clyde smiles softly, nodding as you pull away and stand up, extending a hand to him. He takes it, standing up seconds later.  As you walk into the living room, he says your name, causing you to turn around with a slightly perplexed expression.

“Thank ya.”

You smile brightly. “I love you, Clyde.”

“I love ya, too, darlin’.”

[yandere-sins]

There is a serious lack of the yandere dragon shifter content! (Especially the bakugou dragon shifter if you can...) So is it possible to have a rich like this where the reader is a mage or magician in search of ingredients and meet a dragon who becomes infuriated with her (or them if you are more comfortable)

You shall get what you ask for, if you want she-pronouns so be it there’s no being more or less comfortable about pronouns. The only time I need some more directions is if you want a gender neutral darling do the dirty with the yan, then it helps to know what to expect down below, you get it? Otherwise, if you want to request a female darling then be proud and request that. Also I am mostly writing x reader anyway, and for that it doesn’t really matter most of the time. Enjoy your scenario!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

You were no newbie to the forest. Ever since you were a child, you wandered the dark greens with your grandfather, and later on, with your teacher. Over all these years, you had grown into a respectable mage yourself, people came to your door for help, and you could summon the darkest threats there were; make them follow your instructions! But going into the forest on your own was a necessity, despite always presenting you with something unexpected.

The reason you had to go into the forest was simple: Your potions needed ingredients. Sure, you could have just magically made them appear in your laboratory, however, many did not know that ingredients that were made by magic had almost none of their substances needed for spells. It was easier to explain with self-grown plants in a garden; the one from the convenient market were good to eat, but those you harvested and collected yourself would always be better.

So you set out on your own. You didn’t have an apprentice in a while after the last one had an unfortunate accident with snake poison. Thus, it was on you to make sure your shelves were filled with everything you needed to make your potions and provide people with. To be honest, you found it quite pleasant to get out of your dark, filled-to-the-brim with junk and necessities home, scouting the thicket and breathing in the refreshing forest air.

Carefully you decided where to set your foot. You still remembered the few instances you accidentally ran into a fairy or almost got drowned by a mermaid while picking algae from the lake. Those things happened, but they were no pleasant occurrences, and you preferred to not run into them. However, with a calm mind, you wandered around, picking what you needed. Never more than you actually needed, making sure the forest would be able to reproduce it on their own. That was a law for magicians like you, and you were more than happy to follow it.

“Let’s see,” you mumbled as you brought up your notebook where you had written down the things needed for a very potent sleeping potion for one of your customers. You were almost done gathering everything, aside from one more flower which petals had a sweet smell, soothing even raging minds. As such, it most commonly grew in places where wild beasts lived, but much to your relief, this forest had long been abandoned by those, only leaving the occasional fairy or gnome behind.

There was no way you’d have a run-in with something worse like a werewolf or a dragon.

At least, you were quite sure of it until you managed to reach the clearing where the flower grew. You were so sure of it, you ignored the roaring snoring filling the air as you drew closer to the flower’s whereabouts, merrily humming a little song and focusing on your steps. That was, until you reached out for the flower, finally knowing how the earth around it... breathed.

You just stood there, not moving a muscle. There was no immediate sight of anything, but you knew it. You knew that beneath your feet, a monster laid, as big as the clearing itself, as dangerous as snake poison. The only ones possible of laying down in a field of flowers, resting for so long that their magical energy would make the flowers start growing around and on them, were dragons. Despite really not wanting this thought to be right, you knew that there was nothing in comparison.

For a mage like you were, it wasn’t anything to take on easily. Dragons were wild, untamable, and, most of the time, grumpy. The age, you assumed. They tended to be very territorial and get butt-hurt over every little thing... like you, picking one of their flowers. The worst, however, was that even if you retreated now if you were to be noticed, the dragon surely would hunt after you, and you’d lead it back to your little village.

So all that was left as an option was to retreat quietly and make sure you wouldn’t be noticed. For a moment, you got upset that you would have to find another, less convenient flower spot now or do the potion without it. For at least three years, no monster had closed in on that clearing, and yet, now that you needed the flower, you had run into such trouble retrieving it.

Backing away slowly, you walked a while backwards, eyeing the creature still hidden beneath the field of flowers. You were just about to spin around and make a dash for it, hide somewhere in the dark corners of the forest when your foot got caught ever so slightly. Nothing that made you lose your footing, but widened your eyes nonetheless, the shining silver of a claw revealing after you got stuck on it.

The next few moments happened fast, too fast for your human eyes. A flinch, then a growl, and suddenly, the earth broke loose as something erupted from beneath it, a tall, slim body, covered in scales and shining brilliantly in the sunlight.

For a moment, you were mesmerized by it, absolutely awestruck. Seeing a real dragon definitely was better than any portrait painter could put them on a canvas. You realized quickly that it wasn’t just wondering about the creature before you that kept you in place. More so, it was fear. Even when it’s snout came dangerously close to your face, you couldn’t turn and run away.

“Look at you, a smelly little human thief,” it snarked; the perks of being an intelligent creature was it’s ability to speak. “Did you think my flowers were free to take?”

“Where does it say those are yours? Can’t be helped if you sleep on them.” Perhaps, you should have tried a friendlier approach, but it wasn’t like this creature was full of manners either. Against your expectations, though, it only looked at you before suddenly erupting into deep, growling laughter. There was no way to discern if it was actually amused or if it was laughing to mock you, but you took your chance to turn and run, not waiting for a comeback.

“Where are you going?” you heard behind you as you reached the border of the clearing. That suddenly sweet and luring voice made something in you snap. Without thinking, you stopped to look back, the earth around the clearing still torn up, but instead of a dragon, a man stood at the clearing, arms wide open. “You got some nerves, fucking waking me to tell me the flowers aren’t mine and then run away without even taking any. Takes some guts. Here.”

Sweeping down, he picked up one of the few flowers that hadn’t been destroyed by his dragon form, holding it out to you. Aside from the way he spoke, everything suddenly was so tempting. You hadn’t noticed before that the dragon was a shifter, which automatically gave him natural sympathy from you as a human. Their dangerous skill that even a mage like you couldn’t deny.

They were terrible, and you knew it. Everyone told you about how bad shifters were, only ever turning into a human to do bad things. They naturally looked so much better than your average human, too beautiful, too perfect. Their voices were so lovely that they could lull you to sleep, and they emitted the feeling of security that many men and women sought after, making them perfect targets to be kidnapped and, in the worst case, bred or eaten.

But here you were, the little town mage who had never seen a shifter before. The flower in his hand was calling to you to take it back with you, and his voice lured you. Despite resisting, you did have the urge to throw yourself into his arms, like a good, willing target.

Instead, you kept eye contact, holding out your hand for the flower as you approached. His eyes were the only thing reminding you what a beast he was, wild and dangerous, fire burning in them like you could only see in dragons. Yes, you should have just left, but you felt like he actually... accepted your retort. As if it hadn’t been so bad to stand your ground, and that feeling made you confident. Confident that you could handle this situation.

When your finger finally reached around the stem of the flower, he let it go, and immediately, you felt something sharp and painful drill into your forearm. Shocked, you could watch long sharp claws catching a blood-red color as he dragged them down your arm, your body instinctively moving forward to stop the pain.

And that’s when he snapped for you, lifting you up from the ground as if your weight was a joke for him. Throwing you over his shoulder, you were confronted with the feeling of a strong arm pinning your legs to his chest. “Fuck, I hate humans like you. Always talking back, thinking they are in the right.” Giving your rear a rough slap, you yelped before trying to kick your legs unsuccessfully.

He began to move, his shoulder pushing into your stomach so harshly, you felt like throwing up. But before you could complain or say something, you had to watch as the ground before you slowly distanced itself from you, the peaks of the trees soon what came into view. Your still ‘okay’ arm, clutched desperately between the bleeding one and the shifter’s body, trying to find something to hold onto.

“What- Where! Let me down! How dare you!”

“Your really want to be let down now?” Pulling you forward, you landed on his hands under your arms, noticing how your legs struggled in the air without any halt. Finally, you could see his wings and slowly realized what was going on, gulping as you felt helpless in his grasp. “S-Stop this madness! Get me down on earth again!”

“No,” was his simple answer, your cheeks suddenly squishing against his chest as he tugged you in and wrapped you in his arms. Convenient to carry you, yet not helping your problem of feeling helpless. “Not until you learn how to properly behave, Human.”

“I’m not an ordinary human!” you complained, hearing a mocking, “Oh?” rumbling from his chest.

“I’m a mage--”

“And I am so scared. Mage’s are my favorite breakfast.”

A loud laugh erupted all around you, and this time you were sure he was mocking you. “How dare you, you are so rude!” Pounding your hands against his chest, he only laughed more. “That’s it, bare your teeth, little Mage. I love it when my food resists.”

That’s bad, you thought. That’s really, really bad. Magic wouldn’t help against a magical being as he was, and you looked down, seeing the forest, and then your village pass by as he dragged you off. Not like there was anyone who could have helped you in this situation.

“What’s your name, Mage?” he asked, ten minutes into you struggling against him with his arms never tiring. “Why would you want to know?!” you hissed back, and he grunted in response.

“My mother taught me to know the name of the things I put in my mouth; the fuck you care?!” Stretching out your neck, you tried to see his face, but his expression was denied to your gaze by his chin. All you could see were his ears. They seemed unusually red, but you hadn’t looked at them before to compare if that wasn’t normal for a red dragon.

“Just so you know, but the person eating you am I. Katsuki Bakugou. You better speak your last prayers now, Human. And make them good.”

“Well, to say it in your words: Fuck you, Dragon!” Being defiant had helped before. Maybe it would do it again, you hoped.

This time, the rumble in his chest was short as he laughed, different from the ones before. “You’re gonna be my favorite to crush,” he announced, the grip around you tightening until you gasped in pain. Your struggles ceased as you passed out while he carried you off to the no-mans-land that was his home.

He hated to admit it, but the tactic of his friend of simply laying in a bed of flowers and waiting had really paid off, and he was more than overjoyed to have caught someone like you. Having you keep his lair warm would be more than he expected from his endeavor. Katsuki simply loved a bit of a feistiness in the humans he captured, ensuring that you’d give him a good time playing with you before the end of your little togetherness would draw near.

He would make sure to enjoy every second of it.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

After-writing-comment: Well, this sounded better in my head than it turned out to be. Maybe I will rewrite it sometimes from his POV but we’ll see. It’s 2k words long so it would be a shame to just trash it, so I decided on posting it anyway. Sorry if it isn’t what you had in mind either anon!

[husbandograveyard]

I thought my mind is angst free but le nope, here I am. Hazel, my precious ray of sunshine, may I ask for some angst torture with Sanji and Zoro (not poly, lmao) and fem s/o who hid severe medical condition from them. One day it suddenly gets much worse and Chopper is not available; boys can't do nothing much than watching her fading away in their arms and begging her to not go where they can't follow (ah yes, lotr reference). But happy ending plz, if possible T^T Thank you UwU

Some Angst for Bas! :Hellmo: I tried not to angst it up too much, and they ended up about double as long as I intended. I hope you like them and thank you for your insane patience! Sending you love! 

Having an S/O who hides a severe medical condition HC - Sanji, Zoro 

2nd person. Female reader. tw: illness, mentions of illness, light angst 

Sanji 

Sanji is quite observant. He keeps an eye on his lover, and he knows you better than you sometimes know yourself. So he definitely knows something is up: the visits to chopper, the sudden breaks you need to take in the middle of chores and training. But you never talk about it and he respects your privacy. 

No matter how much he wants to help you, no matter how much he really wishes you would open up to him about whatever is going on, he knows that you want to tackle this by yourself. 

That does not mean he lets you do everything by yourself all the time. He finds many ways to help you around, disguising it under his gentleman attitude. 

He cooks you special dishes that are filled to the brim with all kinds of vitamins and other nutritional elements that will help you keep healthy and strong, even though he has absolutely no idea what part of your health is the one that is stopping you. 

He carries everything that might be too heavy for you, not wanting to over stress you. Even if you’re plenty strong, he will just say that it’s a men’s duty to carry his lady’s stuff. 

Even when you're training, he will bring refreshments, make sure you take plenty of breaks, draw you a nice bath after and massage any aching muscles if you will allow him. 

Sanji is near you when you have the worst episode of your illness you’ve ever had. You feel weak, everything hurting, and you just collapse in the middle of the deck. Sanji would catch you right before you fall, worriedly asking you what you need, but he realizes you’re already unconscious and cannot reply. 

Chopper is out with some other crewmates to get supplies, so Sanji is immediately panicking, torn in between leaving you on the ship to go get Chopper as fast as possible and staying with you in hopes the others will return soon. He eventually settles for the first, deciding that your chances are best when Chopper is involved. 

He picks you up and carries you to your bed so at least you’re in a comfortable spot, but when he turns to leave, there’s a soft tug at his sleeve and he can hear you very faintly whispering to stay. Your eyes are barely open and you’re wincing with every little sound and movement around you. He kneels down next to the bed, tears now falling freely as he begs you to stay with him and not to give up. Chopper will be there soon. 

You have fallen unconscious again when Chopper returns. Sanji races outside the moment he hears them arrive and drags Chopper over to the room, explaining as quickly as he can. He insists on staying with you as Chopper looks after you. 

Luckily, Chopper is already aware of your situation, and he’s able to help you swiftly. 

You wake up not that much later, still in loads of pain, Sanji holding your hand as tight as he can without adding to the pain.

“Please y/n…. let me help next time”

Zoro

Zoro notices something is off rather fast… but much like Sanji, he is not one to pry. You tell him you’re fine, he will believe you.. up until a certain point that is. 

For the most time, you can just dismiss him by telling him there is nothing seriously wrong, trying not to worry him, and assure him that you can handle it. After all, Zoro won’t needlessly hurt your pride by being overbearing or smothering you when it’s unnecessary. 

He’s still picking up on some cues. Just because Zoro is pretty routine-oriënted, he will notice it when things are out of place or not going like they should. On days where he notices you’re struggling, he will pull you with him for an extra nap, bother Sanji for some extra healthy food… the small things that let you know that he cares, he just doesn’t want you to be bothered or feel bad that he’s helping.

He’s training when he hears a loud crash, and even though it’s not that rare for things to fall and break on the ship, he has to do a double take, seeing as the only ones on the ship are you, Usopp and him. The latter usually just spends time tinkering away, and wasn’t supposed to emerge from his room until an emergency happened or the others returned. Weights are swiftly dropped as he shouts down from the crow’s nest. 

“Y/n? Everything all right there?” 

When there is no response, he rushes to where you are supposed to be. He knows you’re not one to joke, especially since you very well know how overbearing he can get when there’s serious danger involved. 

He finds you on the floor, a little scrape bleeding from the fall, but otherwise you seem unharmed. 

He almost lets out a sigh in relief when he notices tears silently streaming over your face. Your expression is contorted, laced with pain and he feels his heart sink all the way into his shoes when he rushes over, easily picking you up and cradling you, his actions a little more rough than intended, only because he just wants to make sure you’re helped as soon as possible. 

You let out a yelp as he picks you up. It’s loud, but not as intense as he’s used to from you. You’re visibly weak and he curses himself mentally for not saying anything earlier today or staying with you when he noticed today was another one of your ‘off days’. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong? What can I do?” 

You open your mouth a couple of times, but find that even talking has become hard, if not excruciating, and you can barely choke out “Chopper”. 

Zoro holds you as close as he can without crushing you or causing you any more pain, and yells out to Usopp to hold the fort. He needs to get you to the doctor, ASAP.

His sense of direction is not really helping, but fortunately, the rest of the crew doesn’t take too long to hear of a ‘green haired man frantically looking for his crew while practically running in circles’. 

The rest of the crew finds you guys relatively fast, but by then you’re slipping in and out of consciousness. Zoro had been cursing about them getting away, and simultaneously kept talking to you, panic apparent in his voice as your answers are incoherent or altogether absent. 

Chopper, as the only one aware of you condition, manages to help you faster than any other doctor would be able to, but you’re going to need some extra medicine and rest for letting it come this far. 

Once he gets the ok, Zoro carries you back to the ship, ignoring all your protests. He will see it as his personal responsibility to make sure you rest and get your meds in time. 

He kisses your forehead as he puts you down on your bed to rest once you’re back at the ship.

“Sorry y/n, some burdens cannot be carried alone. I will help, even if you don’t want me to.”

[westallenfun]

Two's Company (3/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (Happy holidays! I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas).

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love.  On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend Barry Allen, but she grapples with revealing her feelings, for fear of ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may force Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths.

Rating: T (Warning: Mild Language)

The mezzanine just above the ballroom of the Time Metropolis is a well-furnished carpeted landing with at least seven chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a wide, glass balcony supposedly for onlookers to look upon the dancing masses below. There are refreshment stalls, serving a variety of beverages, and waiters carrying platters of an assortment of appetizers, including chili lime shrimp cups, fried okra, and goat cheese bites.

When the elevator arrives at the floor of the mezzanine, Iris steps out alongside her father and Cecile and sees that most people are milling around, chatting with one another. It would seem that no one has yet headed down the stairs to the ballroom, which holds the promise of a night of dancing. Furthermore, nobody seems to have noticed Joe, Cecile, and Iris’s arrival yet, as they are several feet away from everyone, which comes as somewhat of a relief for Iris, as she scans the room quickly, her eyes searching for one person only. Sure enough, she finds him, seated at a table, head pressed into his palm, a glass of wine before him, and wearing a distinctly melancholy expression. He is seated beside Cisco and Cynthia, who are conversing with one another, but looking over at him every few seconds, worryingly. Iris swallows, twisting her fingers behind her back, as she feels her sadness and anger dissipate, upon seeing how utterly torn up he looks, and she knows she must speak with Barry. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up to see her father giving her a reassuring smile, which she returns. When she looks back, she sees that Barry has seen her, as have Cisco and Cynthia. Cynthia appears jovial, leaving the table to come greet them, followed by Cisco, just as other guests begin noticing the new arrivals and start walking over to congratulate Joe and Cecile.

But Iris cannot tear her gaze away from Barry.

Because he’s regarding her like he never has before, as if the wind has been knocked out of him, as if he’s been rendered utterly speechless by her mere presence, gazing at her utterly wide-eyed, and the sheer intensity of the number of emotions his look conveys is too much for Iris, so she looks down at the floor, breathing deeply.

“Hi, Iris,” someone says, and Iris glances to her left and smiles politely when she sees Patty approaching towards her. She appears to be alone, which strikes Iris as odd, but perhaps what is even stranger, now that she thinks about it, is that Eddie is nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Patty,” Iris replies. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you. I think I just needed to get some rest. Between traveling and then going out last night, I think I was just over tired.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad you’re feeling better now.” An awkward silence descends upon them, and Iris is unsure how to progress the conversation, but she can sense that Patty wants to say something further.

“Are you here by yourself?” Iris queries, intuitively determining that perhaps Patty’s odd behavior might have to do with Eddie’s conspicuous absence.

“You noticed, huh,” Patty bites out sardonically. “I’m supposed to be here with Eddie. In fact, Eddie is literally supposed to be here, because he’s hosting the night. But I waited for him for like thirty minutes in the lobby, and he never showed up, so I came here, thinking perhaps he’d forgotten to meet me— wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that —but he’s not here either. I’ve been calling him and texting him, but he’s being absolutely unresponsive.”

“You’re not worried, are you? Because I’m sure he’ll turn up. As you said, he is hosting this.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Patty says. “I asked at the concierge if they’d seen him, and they said he had stepped out earlier today. And that Katie was with him.” Iris’s eyebrows raise, as she takes in this information. For she now realizes that Katie is also not present, and after she and Eddie had acted so bizarrely around each other yesterday, it is not particularly surprising that there is more to that story.

“So, they’re likely not coming here tonight,” Iris concludes, and Patty shrugs,

“So much for being a great host. Anyways, how am I supposed to tell Cecile that her god son might not be attending the gala he’s throwing in her and her husband’s honor?”

“Just tell her the truth, but don’t make it seem like Eddie abandoned her. I mean, we honestly don’t know where he is or why he is so delayed, but he could still make an appearance later tonight, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Iris.” Iris nods, smiling reassuringly, as Patty heads over to Cecile who is standing a few feet away, chatting with one of the other guests. For a few moments, Iris is alone, as she mulls over Eddie and Katie’s absence, wondering what was so urgent that they had to leave right before Eddie was meant to begin hosting this gala for Joe and Cecile. Apart from his apparent inability to be a good host, it just seems so sudden, especially since Katie had been clearly trying to goad Eddie last night, by paying him no attention, and he had taken the bait with all his fuming and glowering.

A proffered glass of champagne enters her line of vision, and when Iris looks up, she sees Barry, handsome as ever in his tuxedo, holding the glass in front of her. His eyes are warm, conveying an abundance of emotions, and he’s smiling at her softly.

“Hi,” he says, almost a whisper.

“Hi,” she breathes, her voice also very quiet. They’re both gazing at each other, neither saying a word, before Barry lets out a small laugh, remembering himself.

“You look incredible,” he murmurs, as if in absolute awe, and the way he says it, with such reverence, makes her heart soar.

“Thank you, Barry. You look very handsome.”

He blushes, ducking his head, slightly, before continuing, “Uh, this is… this for you. I wanted to save a glass for you, because it’s elderflower and… you know, I realize now that there’s a bar, which I’m sure is probably stocked, now that I think about it… yeah, I’m sure it is, but at the time, I thought they might run out of glasses of champagne, because it didn’t seem like they had too many left being passed around. But I definitely wasn’t thinking about the bar. So, well, this is… for you, if you want it, of course. Do you want it? Because I can take it back and then…”

“Yes, I want it,” Iris chuckles, interrupting his rambling, which she finds utterly endearing, as Barry nervously runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you, Barry. I do love elderflower champagne.”

“Yeah, I know,” he answers softly. There’s something in his voice at that moment… an emotion that Iris cannot quite pinpoint, but it nonetheless ignites an intense warmth within her, and when she glances up at him, he’s regarding her almost sadly, like he wants so very much to tell her something, but he is unable to. She wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he can tell her anything and everything that he wants, but before she can, he whispers, “You’re wearing the necklace.” Her hand comes up to touch the wedding band, and she nods, smiling,

“Of course, I am. My best friend gave it to me.” He breathes out harshly, taking a step closer towards her, reaching his hand towards hers, almost as if by instinct.

“Iris, I need—,” he begins, but he is cut off by Cisco and Cynthia racing up to the both of them, having just congratulated Joe and Cecile and chattering about Eddie Thawne’s absence, of all things. Iris has half a mind to stare them both down for interrupting her moment with Barry, but decides against it, because she knows they didn’t exactly mean to tumble in on a private moment. Barry, on the other hand, does not seem to agree with this sentiment, for he is shooting Cisco a dark look, although Cisco, thankfully, seems oblivious.

“Can you believe Eddie isn’t even here?” Cisco asks immediately, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

“I’m actually very surprised by him not turning up on time,” Cynthia replies. “I cannot imagine Eddie Thawne missing a gala that he, himself, is hosting. This is completely and utterly his element.”

“Katie isn’t here either. Apparently, she and Eddie went off somewhere earlier today and didn’t return. Patty told me,” Iris says, and Barry’s brow furrows at that, before he adds,

“I knew something was off between those two yesterday. It would maybe explain why the vibe was just completely off last night, like something just wasn’t adding up.” Iris catches Barry’s eye at that moment, and she feels her pulse race, upon the realization that Barry was apparently as completely befuddled and equally bemused about what was going on with Katie and Eddie as they all were. And that could only mean one thing, right?

“I think that much was obvious to all of us,” Cynthia replies, rolling her eyes. “Those two are a pair of absolute paragons of etiquette and normalcy when they’re around each other, aren’t they?” Everyone laughs at that, likely recalling the rather odd behavior both Katie and Eddie engaged in the previous night, which strengthens Iris’s resolve that perhaps she had been completely mistaken about what she had witnessed between Barry and Katie, although that betraying voice reminds her of the dinner at Marano’s, much to her chagrin. She is aware, though, that that is a question that needed answering. Eventually. Because at the moment she is certain that she wants to find that equilibrium again with Barry, before diving headlong into conversations that would likely change everything.  

Quiet orchestral music begins to play, and a man steps up onto the mezzanine, gesturing with his hands towards Joe, Cecile, and the rest of the guests.

“I am the manager of the Time Metropolis. Mr. Thawne is unfortunately detained tonight, although he hopes to make an appearance later on. He asks that we host this night in his absence, and so if I could invite the guests of honor, Mr. West and Ms. Horton, and everyone else to please head to the ballroom, then we can officially commence the festivities.”

“Thank you,” Joe says, holding out his hand to Cecile. After she takes his hand, and the two of them begin to head down the double staircase to the rather ornate ballroom, apparently modeled after some Baroque-style palace, the rest of the guests follow. Iris can feel Barry’s eyes on her as they walk down the stairs, even though she is a few feet in front of him, and a feeling of great anticipation washes over her, as she ponders how the night might unfold.

As they reach the bottom of the staircase, Cynthia stumbles on the second to last step, and Iris lurches forward to steady her friend, but in doing so, she too loses her footing momentarily, and she thinks they might both end up tumbling down together, but just as she catches Cynthia’s arm, one hand comes around her waist, the other on the small of her back, preventing her from falling. Indeed, Cynthia is able to catch her balance, with Iris steadying her then, and she smiles gratefully up at Iris.

“Thanks,” she says, and Iris nods with a smile,

“Of course.” But her concentration is on the two hands holding her, for they’re Barry’s hands, and she is extremely aware of his touch against her bare back, his fingers gripping her gently, but firmly. She turns to look at him, just as he asks,

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Bear. You saved both of us from tumbling down stairs in our gowns,” she replies, chuckling slightly, as Cynthia smirks, watching both of them closely,

“Yes, of course Barry did.” Noticing Cynthia’s knowing look, Barry and Iris smile sheepishly, seemingly embarrassed, but Barry does not step away from Iris, still holding her, the imprint of his hands hot against her.

The live orchestra is situated near the end of the large ballroom, and the conductor raises her baton, signaling that the musicians are about to begin performing a piece. Cynthia quickly says,

“I’m going to go see if Cisco wants to dance. Bye!” Before she walks away towards Cisco who is already near the center of the room. Iris shakes her head fondly, before Barry asks,

“Do you… would you like to dance, Iris?” His tone is soft and full of longing, and Iris recognizes the gravity of this moment.

“I would love to,” she replies, her face shining with a number of emotions, and she is uninterested in attempting to mask everything that she is feeling. She wants Barry to know. He smiles, releasing his grasp around her waist and back, and holding out his hand to her, which she takes in her own. As his fingers enclose around hers, she shivers for a moment, not of any cold air, but rather because of the intensity with which she knows that she loves him.

They make their way slowly into the ballroom, where the orchestra is playing a sultry musical piece, and Barry’s left arm comes around Iris, his hand settling at her waist, while he holds her left hand in his right. Her free arm goes around his neck and for a few moments they simply sway in each other’s arms, gazing at each other. Barry leads her around the other couples, but Iris barely realizes that they are in a ballroom full of other people, for she feels, within his arms, as if they are the only two people in the world. His eyes do not leave hers for even a moment, and it is hard not to mistake what he’s feeling in that moment, for his emotions are visibly ablaze upon his face. She wonders then how she possibly could have misread one night, when there had been so many signs telling her that he feels in their most intense moments all that she feels, but she supposes that the tricky thing about loving her best friend was the debilitating fear that he may not feel the same way. The fear that if she voiced her feelings, she could lose the safe harbor of their friendship forever. But change is sometimes not only good, but imperative. And perhaps that is the most integral part of what they shared; their need to trust each other in order to fully realize that their friendship was perhaps never simply platonic ever.

Iris moves closer to Barry in his arms, as they continue to dance, laying her head against his chest, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear. She closes her eyes, savoring his touch, while Barry’s arm tightens around her, his lips brushing against the crown of her head in a soft kiss. The music crescendos as they dance, coming to a natural end, and applause from the other couples erupt around them, but Barry and Iris, break apart only slightly, both of his hands now holding her waist, while his forehead comes to rest against her own. Iris’s hands slide up his chest, resting just below his bowtie, and they both breathe deeply, trying to mentally navigate what they are supposed to do next. It is apparent to Iris now that they cannot possibly put off the inevitable any further.

“We should talk,” she says, brushing her nose against his.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, dazed. She smiles, feeling his breath fanning against her lips, and realizes then just how physically proximate they are to one another.

“Privately, Bear,” she urges softly. He nods, seemingly coming back to his senses and registering that they are currently in a room full of other people. They move apart, slowly, his hands caressing her as he backs away, and Iris immediately misses the warmth of his arms around her.

“Right. I’m sure we can find somewhere private away from all of this. It’s a hotel after all.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” she replies, raising her eyebrows. He grins lopsidedly at her, and without another word, he takes her hand and leads her out of the ballroom, and she wonders if anyone has noticed them, but finds herself not particularly caring if everyone is indeed watching their abrupt exit. Once they climb up the stairs and reach the mezzanine again, nodding politely towards a few members of the hotel staff milling about there, Barry looks around searchingly, and Iris is aware that he is trying to determine where they ought to go. She squeezes his hand, before saying, “Let’s just go to my room. Otherwise we’re going to be running around this whole hotel searching for a quiet place.” Barry lets out a breathy chuckle,

“Yeah, good idea, otherwise we’d be something like a pair of high school teenagers at prom, running around the venue for somewhere private.”

“We did miss out on prom, though. Together, I mean,” she replies wistfully. Perhaps there’s something distinctly poignant about her tone, because Barry pulls Iris closer to him, his hand settling gently at the base of her neck, and he’s regarding her, adoringly.

“But we did get our dance, even if it is thirteen years later.” She smiles, her eyes glistening with unshed tears,

“Yes, we did.” At that Barry drops his hand to hold hers once more, and he presses the call button for the elevator, and as they await the lift, all Iris can feel is both deep contentment and love.

*

            When Iris enters her hotel room with Barry, it is with an internal sigh of relief, for the short journey from the mezzanine to the third floor of the Time Metropolis felt torturous, as they both were jittery with anticipation, but unable to truly voice anything until they were within the safety of a private room. Upon entering the room, Barry immediately begins pacing, while Iris busies herself by pouring them both glasses of water from a jug situated on the bedside table. She proffers one to Barry, and he stops fidgeting for a moment to take it.

            “Thank you,” he says, gratefully, and they both sip from their glasses. Iris figures that she ought to convince Barry not to resume walking around the room, so she sits down on the edge of the bed and kicks off her heels. “You make it looks so graceful,” he sighs, coming to sit next to her, clutching his glass tightly.

            “What do you mean?” she asks, and he turns, so that he’s facing her fully. Iris carefully places her hand over his, loosening his hold on his glass, hoping to help alleviate some of his nervous energy.

            “Everything you do. It’s so graceful. So beautiful. I just…”

            “Bear,” Iris starts, but Barry shakes his head quickly,

            “You don’t have to say anything, Iris. I know that I messed up yesterday, but the truth is I’ve been messing things up for years now.”

            “No, Barry, you haven’t,” Iris counters, while Barry puts his glass down on the floor beside his feet. Determining that they have now arrived at the point where all their cards are about to be laid out before them, Iris does the same with her own glass. When she places her now empty hands back on her lap, one of Barry’s hands encloses one of hers, gently prying her fingers open, so that her right palm is facing upwards, resting on her knee, before he interlocks her fingers with his. He brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles, slowly, reverently. “Bear…” she whispers, but she is unsure what to say, recognizing that they are on a precipice of change.

            “I owe you an explanation. I owe you so much more than that, but perhaps I can start with an explanation. But first, I am so sorry, Iris. About last night. I didn’t… I obviously was taken aback when I saw Katie again, and her over-friendliness was a source of confusion for me, but I guess I didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with everything she was saying, but I shouldn’t have even let her say anything. And if I’d been unable to stop her, I should have shut down all of the absurd insinuations she was clearly trying to make. I was put on the spot, not that that’s an excuse, but when I saw you… when I saw your face, I knew I’d screwed up really badly. Because to see you look so upset and to know that I was the reason for it, I don’t… god, Iris, it felt like a knife to my chest, and all I could think about was how much of an absolute idiot I am,” Barry begins, speaking rapidly, voice trailing off at the end, and he’s looking at her so earnestly, as if the worst thing in the world to him is being the cause of even an ounce of her sadness, and goodness she just wants to take his face in her hands and tell him that he is her happiness. But she stops herself, because she knows they have to get through this conversation.

            “Bear, I’m not upset or angry with you now. But I was, especially right after Katie said what she said, when we had had that moment in my room just hours before, when you came to give me this.” And here she picks up the wedding band sitting between her collar bones to emphasize her point. “It just felt like everything we had shared had been rendered insignificant in that moment. Like it was nothing. And then I thought I had maybe read the moment wrong, but whenever I go over what happened in my head, I know that you were feeling what I was in that moment.”

            “You weren’t reading that moment wrong, Iris. Not for a second,” Barry says, using his free hand to cup her cheek. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes for just a moment. “We almost kissed in your room, and I… there is nothing more that I wanted to do than kiss you. And then Cynthia interrupted, which wasn’t her fault, obviously, but I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t extremely frustrated, especially because we seem to have been interrupted throughout our lives a countless number of times.” He chuckles ruefully then, but Iris’s breath hitches, as she mulls over his words, particularly, there is nothing more that I wanted to do than kiss you. If only she could ask him then how he truly feels about her. If only she could tell him how she truly feels about him.

            “But what about the dinner at Marano’s?” she queries, instead, for that betraying voice in her head refuses to let her move past that. Surely, Katie did not completely make that up, for even if she was simply saying all that she did to get a rise out of Eddie, telling complete falsities seemed a step too far. And there was the added anxiety that Barry had not corrected her then.

            “Yeah, yeah, that was… Katie completely mischaracterized that dinner. I know it was dinner at Marano’s, but what she failed to mention is that Matt, who’s her cousin, as you know, was there as well, and the whole thing came about, because Katie showed up when I was tutoring Matt, and Old Mrs. Rogers was adamant that we all go out to dinner. But she was feeling unwell, and nonetheless insisted that we go, and it was impossible to say no, especially because Matt really wanted to go. I’m… I should have set the record straight last night, because I knew what Katie was trying to imply, and she was completely wrong on that account,” Barry replies, all in one breath, and he looks so pained that he’d let this fester, without correcting Katie’s white lie immediately, but Iris lets out a soft laugh, then,

            “If you could have seen the scenarios I’d somehow managed to cook up in my head… Looking back, I realize they were probably irrational, and I should have just asked you, myself, but I was devastated and angry, and I think I just needed time to myself at that moment.”

            “Iris, I am so, so sorry. Just the thought that you’d been in any kind of pain, because of me… god, I’m such an idiot,” he says, his fists clenched on his lap, and his tense form causes Iris worry. She frames his face with her hands, caressing his cheek with her thumb, hoping to soothe him. She leans in to rest her forehead against his, and for a few moments, all Iris can hear is their breathing, as she feels some of the tension in Barry’s muscles dissipate.

            “It’s okay, Barry. This is not your fault. We just both stumbled into a series of romantic mishaps, because of someone else’s lies. But we’re here now,” Iris soothes. Barry grins at that, fully relaxing then.

            “Romantic mishaps, huh?” he teases gently. She moves away from him just slightly to look at him properly, chuckling,

            “Would you characterize it otherwise?”

            “Not at all. Especially because Cisco said that you and I have been constantly tumbling into romantic mishaps throughout our entire adult lives. I was so mad at him, both last night and today, because he kept saying that I couldn’t call you or text you… and you should have seen me today. I was oscillating between walking around like a zombie and ranting at Cisco about how he could put me through this. He wouldn’t budge, though, repeatedly telling me that I needed to give you a day’s worth of space and that I’d see you at the gala. And I was going out of my mind the entire day. But now,” he says, bringing his hands to her waist, slowly, tentatively. “I think maybe he was right.” Iris silently agrees, because despite her initial frustrations over Barry having not reached out to her today, Cisco was probably right in refusing to allow him to call or text her. They both clearly needed the day to work through their emotions by themselves.

            “Well, Cisco is quite wise,” she remarks in response.

            “Drove me insane today, but yeah, he has his moments,” Barry jokes, and Iris laughs. “God, I love your laugh.” Iris raises an eyebrow at that, as she simultaneously runs her fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if relishing her touch.

            “You love my laugh?” she asks in jest, but his expression becomes solemn, and he pulls her closer to him, his hands remaining on her waist.

            “Always have. I remember,” he begins, slowly, carefully. “…When we first met. My mom had brought me to the playground when I was ten, and I’m pretty sure I was upset about the new move to Central City, so she probably took me there, so that I could blow off some steam. And I’d somehow managed to swing myself so aggressively that I’d tumbled headfirst into the dirt. I was so angry and annoyed, and I’m pretty sure about to start crying, but then there was this small hand…” At this, one of his hands release her waist, and he grasps her hand, intertwining their fingers. “…Reaching out to me. That was when I’d first met you, and you were smiling and asking if I was okay, and I’m sure I said something stupid, because I was kind of in awe. But you laughed and told me that I was funny, and I’m quite sure… no, I know that that was the moment that I fell absolutely in love with you, Iris. Or maybe it was a year later when my dad died, and you found me crying in a corner, hours after everyone had left, after they’d all come by to pay their condolences, and you stayed up all night with me, holding me. Looking back, I knew I loved you then. But when you’re a kid, you can’t truly fathom love, but I knew I had a total crush on you, and when I was about sixteen years old, I identified that what I felt for you was love. I was in love with my best friend, but I didn’t know how to tell you, because I was so afraid that I would completely ruin our friendship. And yet, the years that have past since our childhood and young adulthood just strengthened my feelings. I’m more in love with you today than I was when we were children.” As Barry speaks, he holds absolutely nothing back, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and Iris tells herself to steady her breathing. Because she is aware that if she is completely honest with herself, she has known that Barry reciprocates her feelings for a long time, but to have him tell her, to have him say that he’s in love with her… there is nothing that could prepare her for this moment.

“You’re incredible, Iris,” Barry continues. “I don’t think you even realize how amazing you are. You jump headlong into seeking the truth, with little care to your own safety, because you so innately believe in the importance of preserving justice and saving lives. You see the best in people, no matter what, but most of all you inspire people. I’ve told you time and again that you’re my hero, Iris West. But more than that, whenever I see you, it’s akin to coming home for me. I’ve struggled with the concept of home and where that might be for me, especially after my dad died when I was a kid, but I’ve realized that home is not a place. It never has been for me. Instead, it’s a person. It’s you. Whenever I need to get away from the rest of the world, my safety net is you. You’re whom I always run to. Because you’re my home, Iris, and you always have been. I love you deeply. And I promise that I’ll dedicate every day to loving you… if you’ll have me of course.” Tears spill from Iris’s eyes then, which Barry immediately catches with his thumbs, gently brushing them aside, as he cups her face. He’s smiling so widely at her, his own eyes glistening, and she finds herself contemplating how surreal this moment truly is.

“You really have quite a way with words, Barry Allen,” she says, her voice shaking, slightly.

“Only for you. You’re the storyteller, after all. I’m just the boy luck enough to love you,” he replies, and Iris’s heart soars, completely overwhelmed with love for the man sitting before her.

Then she begins,

“Well, I suppose I should tell you about the day that I am quite sure was a moment of exceptional clarity for me. We were in the eighth grade, and I was overworked as Editor of the Central City Junior High Gazette, because none of my fellow cub reporters were completing their articles on time. Unfortunately, not all fourteen-year-olds took their responsibilities as junior reporters in training as seriously as I did mine. It was nearing the end of the day, and I still was short two articles, and I was nearly in tears over the stress of the realization that I was going to need to cover two stories, myself, in a matter of twenty-four hours, because we needed to fill the page quota necessary for publication. The door of the classroom opened, and you enter, and I didn’t know what it was about seeing you then, but the moment I saw you, the dam broke, and I was sobbing. And you raced over and hugged me and asked me what was wrong, and when I told you, you simply said that we were going to find two stories to cover together and that you’d stay over at my place for the entire night, if you had to, helping me. And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay.

Because the truth is Barry, you are my rock. You’re always there for me no matter what, and I didn’t know then why I finally cried only when I saw you, but I know now. I felt safe to fully release my frustrations and anxieties, despite still being in school, because you were with me. Whether you’re entering Jitters to meet me or racing through the doors of the Citizen with Big Belly Burger take-out, I’m home the moment I see you. I love you, Barry. I love you so, so much, and I’m completely yours. I always have been, and I always will be.” At the end of her declaration, Barry is gazing at her both lovingly and ardently, and he says,

“And I am totally yours.” With his hands still cupping her face, he surges forward and captures her lips with his, kissing her hungrily and passionately. This kiss is years in the making, and there is no easing into it, as Iris gasps into Barry’s mouth, her hands climbing up his chest, until one hand settles at the nape of his neck, while the other remains near his heart. She presses herself even closer, wanting to be as physically proximate to him as she can, and he evidently wants the same, for he secures one arm around her back, pulling her smoothly into his lap, until she’s straddling him underneath her long gown. There are vague warning bells in her head, reminding her that she might tear her dress, but she is hardly concerned about that, figuring that her dress can certainly weather a night of her finally kissing the love of her life.

Meanwhile, Barry’s hands have bunched up the skirt of Iris’s dress to her hips and are roaming the smooth skin of her now bare legs, and his mouth leaves hers and moves to the skin below her earlobe, before slowly kissing the side of her jaw and then her neck.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” he murmurs huskily, then.

“I think you might have,” she chuckles, breathlessly.

“Well you look absolutely beautiful,” he responds, before kissing her again, this time more languidly, taking his time to really explore her mouth. Iris responds, cupping his chin with one hand, equally enjoying his more relaxed kisses as she did his passionate kisses moments ago.

She then pulls away for a moment, and Barry groans, chasing her mouth, but instead she undoes his bowtie, with nimble fingers, and takes in his flushed lips, dilated pupils, and mussed up hair, and she’s sure she has never been more content than in this very moment.

“I love you,” she says, as he buries his head in her chest and mumbles something incoherent. “Bear?”

He turns his head to the side, so that she can hear him when he states, rather hoarsely,

“Iris, when I said I was yours, I meant it. Seriously, I’d literally do anything for you.” Iris smirks at that, maneuvering his head gently away from her chest, so that they were eye to eye, before replying,

“That could turn out to be a very dangerous statement, Barry Allen.” Barry grins, rising to the challenge.

“I’d be more than happy to indulge in a little danger where it involves Iris West,” he responds. Iris raises her eyebrows at that and brings her lips to Barry’s, coaxing his mouth open with hers. He wraps his arm tightly around her lower back, while his free hand dips under the hem of her gown, bunched up at her waist, brushing his fingers teasingly against the soft skin of her abdomen, while she runs one hand through his hair, as the other unbuttons his dress shirt. Her hips buck against his, as she caresses his bare chest with her thumb, soliciting a moan from him, which she quietens by deepening their kiss.

Barry lifts Iris, then, and in one movement lays her on the bed, as he hovers over her, before gently moving his lips from hers to trail soft kisses down the length of her neck. Just as he reaches her collarbone, there is a loud banging on their door, and Barry groans loudly, dropping his head to her chest. Iris sighs, running a hand through his hair, when a voice that most definitely belongs to Cisco yells out,

“Barry? Iris?”

“If we ignore him, do you think he’ll go away?” Barry mumbles, just as Cynthia says rather loudly,

“We know you two are in there, so don’t pretend you can’t hear us.” Barry audibly grumbles, while Iris chuckles,

“Baby, I admire you wanting to ignore those two, but I really don’t think they’re going to leave.” Barry lets out a puff of breath that fans against Iris’s skin, and he slowly rolls away from her, sitting up and placing a pillow in his lap, perhaps in an attempt to be discrete, although privately Iris knows that Cisco is absolutely going to comment gleefully on his friend’s state of disarray. Meanwhile, she gets up and adjusts her dress, so that it falls back over her legs and walks over to the vanity mirror, grabbing a make-up cloth to wipe off her now smudged lipstick. She’s quite sure that she’s already sporting love bites on her neck and shoulders, but she cannot seem to bring herself to care about concealing them.

Once she’s satisfied that she’s as presentable as she can possibly be, given the circumstances, she opens the door of her hotel room and sees Cisco and Cynthia standing by the threshold, both wearing similarly smug expressions.

“Iris!” Cisco says, clapping his hands together, dramatically, while Cynthia scrutinizes her, before asking,

“What’s that on your neck?” Although her tone suggests that this is no innocent question, and she’s simply trying to put Iris on the spot, Iris refuses to take the bait, instead querying,

“Are you two going to come in? I imagine you’re here to deliver urgent news.”

“Patience,” Cisco replies, jovially, as he enters the room and spots Barry, sitting on the edge of the bed. At this sight, Cisco seems positively gleeful. “Nice pillow, Barry.”

“You are an ass,” Barry mutters darkly, not bothering to greet his friend.

“Love you too, man. And by the way,” Cisco chuckles, throwing his arm around Iris. “It’s because of me that this happened.” He gestures between Barry and Iris. “Without me apparently putting Barry through absolute misery today, the two of you would have continued your decades long song and dance of refusing to acknowledge that you are madly in love with each other.” Iris shrugs off Cisco’s arm, rolling her eyes, fondly.

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Cisco,” she says.

“Mmhmm, forget West-Allen Matchmakers. I think Ramon and Sons, Experts in Match-Making is the real success story.”

“Is that so? Because I’m pretty sure the two of you have been clearly enjoying each other’s company, and Barry and I can definitely take some credit there,” Iris replies, raising an eyebrow, and Cisco blushes at that, tucking his shoulder-length hair behind his ears.

“Well, for two people who apparently are champions at setting everyone else up, you sure took a ridiculously long time getting your respective acts together,” Cynthia retorts. At this, Iris saunters over to the edge of the bed, sitting next to Barry and leaning her chin on his shoulder, while he takes one of her hands in one of his.

“Maybe. But we’re here now,” Iris replies, as Barry kisses her forehead.

“Y’all are cute, I’ll admit,” Cisco says, and Cynthia smiles at the sight of them together.

“So why are you here?” Barry asks, stroking Iris’s knuckles with his thumb. In response, Cisco grabs a chair near the vanity and sits down, while Cynthia seats herself in a cushioned armchair by a round coffee table.

“So…,” Cisco begins, pausing for dramatic effect, although his anticipation is not reciprocated by either Barry and Iris, who do not prompt him. “Alright, so, guess who showed up just now, roughly halfway through the ball?” Cisco does not wait for an answer, however, the question apparently rhetorical. “That’s right. Eddie Thawne, accompanied by Katie Rogers. Their appearance so late in the game is not even the real crazy thing, because you’ll never guess what happened when they arrived. Okay, so the two of them show up, and they’re dressed for the occasion, and they head over to Cecile and Joe, where Eddie apologizes profusely, naturally, but then seems to reveal something to Cecile which makes her absolutely ecstatic. And she’s crying and hugging Eddie. Needless to say, we were all quite curious as to what could possibly be going on, but Eddie dispels the suspense quite quickly, when he and Katie head over towards the orchestra, and he abruptly stops the musicians and conductor, before taking a mic and claiming he has a big announcement.

He apologizes sincerely for being so late, but explains that he has a reason for being late, and this reason is that he has big news that will bring everyone at this ball great pleasure. And he proceeds to announce that he and Katie just eloped and got married.” At this, Barry and Iris exchange flabbergasted looks, before turning back to Cisco.

“Excuse me?” Iris says, as Barry’s brow furrows contemplatively.

“They got married,” Cisco repeats, shrugging his shoulders. “I know, I know. But that’s where they were today, apparently. Getting married. I’m ninety percent sure, though, that this was a decision made on the fly.”

“But they clearly were having some sort of argument yesterday that we all were not privy to.”

“Yep. I still don’t know what that’s all about, but I have a theory from talking to Katie afterwards. I obviously went up to congratulate them, because what the hell else are we supposed to do, and I was like, ‘Oh this is very nice and all, but this seems sudden.’ She was really cagey, but kind of let it slip that she was pissed that Eddie was keeping their romance a secret from his family, who wouldn’t approve of his involvement with her or some crap, so Katie had given him an ultimatum of her own that if he didn’t get serious with her, she was going to leave him. Guess that kicked his ass into gear.” Iris notices Barry watching Cisco closely, as he takes this in, nodding along. Cisco’s explanation appears to have given him some clarity on the situation.

“That makes sense,” Barry sighs, shaking his head. “I think I may have somehow ended up as the scapegoat, while Katie was trying to make a point to Eddie. But it’s just… god I’m such an idiot, because all the while, Iris was hurt by all this mess, and that is on me… I should have been clear about setting the record straight.”

“Hey, Bear, it’s okay,” Iris soothes. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Barry exclaims. “It does matter, because all of that hurt you, Iris. And it’s just… god, this is my fault, and…” But Iris has heard enough, and she grasps both his hands in her own.

“Barry,” she says firmly. “We’ve been over this. What happened last night was not your fault. None of this is your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known about Katie and Eddie’s romantic drama. It seems like nobody knew that they were secretly dating.”

“You’re right,” Barry replies. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, but just the mere thought of Katie’s callousness, by trying to insinuate what she did about me and her, all because she was trying to make Eddie jealous, having hurt you is so infuriating.”

“I love you,” Iris whispers, brushing her lips against Barry’s jaw, just as Cisco clears his throat loudly,

“Hey, I know y’all are in that insufferable, just got together officially phase and all, but we’re still here, and I haven’t even gotten to the best part of the story.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia interrupts, clearly fed up with Cisco’s prolonging. “Patty dumped a glass of wine over Eddie’s head.” Barry and Iris turn to each other, sharing a surprised look, as Iris observes,

“And here Barry and I were thinking that we’ve had our fair share of romantic mishaps. Seems as if we don’t really know what actual romantic mishaps encompass, after all.” Cisco, however, is clearly affronted that Cynthia had botched his story-telling,

“That’s not how you tell a story, Cyn. You have to ease into the best part to build up the anticipation.”

“Please, there’s no building up anticipation with Barry and Iris, other than them anticipating our departure.”

“True,” Barry says, chuckling. “And also, I know Eddie definitely didn’t deserve to get wine poured all over him, but that’s undoubtedly a sight that I’d have liked to witness.” Thus, Iris is reminded of one remaining mystery, namely the prickly nature of all of Barry and Eddie’s interactions that she has witnessed, so she inquires accordingly,

“By the way, Bear. Why do you dislike Eddie so much? I don’t recall you two having spent all that much time together to have developed animosity towards each other.” Barry’s eyes widen at that, and he resembles a deer caught in the headlights, which Iris, naturally, finds incredibly endearing.

“Oh my god, you never told her?” Cisco cuts in, looking positively maniacal at this discovery. Barry begins shaking his head frantically at Cisco, but his attempts at preventing his friend from talking are of no avail. “So, the first time Barry and Eddie crossed paths was at some garden party Cecile hosted, and you took Barry as your guest or something. I don’t know the details, because I only have secondhand information from Barry, but basically Eddie tried to insinuate that he might be interested in you to goad Barry, probably, because he, like everyone else except for you two, knew how you both felt about each other. Anyways, Barry had some really harsh words for Eddie, and since then the two of them can’t stand the sight of each other. Talk about the world’s fastest rivalry for no real, concrete reason.”

“I hate you,” Barry groans, burying his face in his hands, but Iris refuses to let Barry wallow in embarrassment, so she nudges him with her shoulder, leaning into him.

“I think you having… how did it Cisco put it?… Harsh words… is hot, Bear,” she says. He turns to her, with a small smile,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He cups her cheek with one hand, his fingers burying into her hair, and kisses her soundly.

“Ugh, okay, okay,” Cynthia interrupts, getting up. “We’re leaving. Have fun, you two.”

“See ya!” Cisco yells, as Cynthia takes his arm and pulls him to the door. “And remember, this is because of me. I’m the real matchmaker around here.” Once they exit the room, Cisco still chattering away, Barry releases an audible sigh of relief and mumbles,

“Thank god.” Iris laughs, leaning her forehead against his, closing her eyes, before stating,

“You do know that I was never interested in anyone but you, right? I could never really make it work with anyone else, because I was so in love with you. I am so in love with you.”

“I know. And I never could be interested in any other person other than you, not when you have always had my heart,” Barry replies, before continuing, “Also, just to clarify, Eddie and I don’t despise each other or anything; we’re just never going to be friends.”

“Mm, well, I don’t think you two will be seeing each other very often outside of occasional social gatherings.”

“Yeah.” They stay like that, foreheads resting together, taking comfort in each other’s arms, before Iris says,

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this moment.” Barry smiles widely at that, adjusting so that he’s holding her face in both of his hands.

“Iris, you have no idea how deeply happy you make me,” he whispers against her lips, his tone reverent as he acknowledges the depth of his love for her. “I love you. I love you so, very much.” A tear escapes him then, which Iris wipes away gently with her thumb, before pressing her lips to his, as she delights in the knowledge that he is hers to love and she is his to love for the rest of their lives.

*

One and a half years later

            Iris sighs contentedly, leaning back against Barry’s chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. She is seated in his lap, like a bride (which, in fact, she is), her white tulle skirt fanning around both of them. All around her there seems to be a flurry of activity, as she assesses the myriad of guests in attendance at her wedding reception.

            Wally and Linda are attempting to feed their baby twins, and despite their bemoaning that they cannot quite get this parenting thing down, they seem to be doing a wonderful job at soothing their agitated twins and getting them to eat some mashed foods, which they had brought with them in portable Tupperware. Every time Linda manages to feed a twin, Wally gives her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek, which seems to highly amuse the babies, who giggle uncontrollably at this.

Her father, with whom she had recently danced the father-daughter dance, is regaling some folks with stories about when she was young and how he always knew she was going to grow into an absolute journalistic star. Usually, Iris would be embarrassed by her father’s bragging, but today she lets him sing her praises, for it is her big day after all. Cecile is chatting with friends at a table, and seated near her are Eddie and Katie Thawne, whom Cecile requested be invited, much to Barry’s chagrin, and who are also expecting a baby, as Katie is already sporting a baby bump. Patty is also in attendance, which Iris had initially worried might be awkward, given that there is a good chance that Patty would run into Eddie, but Patty recently reconnected with an old boyfriend, and she brought him as her date. Plus, Patty has managed to completely ignore the Thawnes, at least thus far. Cisco and Cynthia, who have been dating for over a year now, appear to be in their own little world together, heavily flirting with each other at their table. Caitlin and Ronnie are sitting next to Cisco and Cynthia, but they don’t seem particularly concerned with the other couple’s flirting, for they are preoccupied with entertaining their two-year-old daughter.

Allegra, Kamilla, and James are all laughing about something, and Iris is glad that they are enjoying themselves, for she knows that last week was a highly stressful time at the Citizen, because they had finally published a piece, on which all the Citizen’s reporters worked for weeks on end (now a team of nearly fifty reporters, for the amount of positive publicity that had resulted from the McCulloch Tech exposé had catapulted the Citizen into journalistic stardom, particularly after Iris had been awarded a Peabody Award and Kamilla a World Press Photo Award for their work on the article), exposing a massive eviction scam, which implicated three local politicians. So, Iris is grateful that the three reporters seem to be relaxed and happy, the stresses of last week hopefully dissipating. As for Kara, she appears to have discovered the scrumptious doughnut display near the dessert buffet and is evidently in heaven. 

Iris’s Great-Aunt Esther sits at the head of the West family table, friendly, but reserved and still ever so beautiful. Barry and Iris are seated one table down from her, and when Great-Aunt Esther catches Iris’s eye, she winks at her favorite grand-niece, perhaps reinforcing the sentiment that she had voiced to Iris earlier that day that she is the happiest she could ever be to see her dearest grand-niece marry the love of her life.

“Your Mama, My Francine… she would be so proud of the woman you have become,” Great-Aunt Esther tells Iris right before Joe arrives to walk her down the aisle. Tears roll down Iris’s cheeks, as her Great-Aunt gathers her into her arms. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“I miss her so, so much. Every single day,” Iris whispers.

“She is always, always with you.”

The memory from this morning is one Iris knows she will cherish deeply, but while she relives that moment, she notices that there now appears to be trouble, for Barry’s mother, Nora, joins Joe, and they both start telling the tale of how they knew Barry and Iris were always going to get married from the moment they witnessed the two interact as young children. Surely, the two of them would somehow manage to recount the numerous occasions on which Barry and Iris play-acted getting married as children, usually with a stuffed dinosaur presiding.

“When Barry came home from the playground that day after meeting Iris,” Nora says loudly, “He went running up to his dad and said, ‘Dad! I met the most beautiful girl in the world today. I think I want to marry her.’ And my late husband said, ‘Well, slugger, love is about reciprocity. Focus on getting to know her. And who knows, maybe one day, we’ll be attending yours and Iris’s wedding.’ And here we are.” Upon hearing his mother retell this particular story, Barry drops his forehead to Iris’s shoulder, groaning quietly, so that only she can here.

“It’s bad already, and they’re just getting started,” Barry mutters, kissing his wife’s shoulder. “I think we should make our great escape right about now.” Iris smiles, running a hand through Barry’s hair, as she feels Barry’s lips move upward, slowly beginning to trail kisses from her shoulder to her neck. 

“Bear, if you’re trying to get me to agree to leave with you right now…” Iris whispers, attempting to maneuver herself discreetly so that the guests cannot see her husband kissing her neck.

“Is it working?” Barry asks, looking up at her and smiling.

“You know it is,” she sighs, and he appears supremely smug at that. “But we do have to stick around for a while longer, after all this is our wedding reception. We can’t just cut out early.” Barry mumbles his half-hearted assent, although he seems unconvinced, before caressing his fingers against Iris’s arm, gazing at her, suddenly contemplative. “What is it?” she queries, softly.

“I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’re here, finally, at our wedding reception. I think it really only hit me that I’m marrying you when I saw you walk down the aisle, and you are so, so beautiful and amazing and wonderful, and I realized that I’m truly lucky enough to marry the girl of my dreams,” Barry replies, and Iris frames his face with her hands, leaning forward gently, so her forehead rests against his.

“Those tears were real huh?” she teases, gently. Barry chuckles, and because they are so closely pressed together, she feels the reverberations of his laugh against her own chest.

“Completely real.”

“So were mine,” Iris says, her lips just a hair’s length away from his. “Because just as it was overwhelming for you to watch me walking down the aisle, I was incredibly overwhelmed with happiness and love seeing you standing at the end of the aisle, looking so dapper, and knowing that I finally get to marry the love of my life, who is the most amazing man that I know.” Barry’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, touched by her words, and he brushes his nose against Iris’s, murmuring against her lips,

“I love you, Mrs. West-Allen.” Iris responds by kissing him once gently, and they are silent for a few moments, foreheads still touching, and contemplating the depth of their love for one another. Then, Barry shakes his head fondly and remarks, jokingly,

“You and I are complete saps.”

“Eloquent saps,” Iris corrects, laughing. “But that’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

“Mm, true,” Barry says, taking her hand in his own and bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing her fingers one by one. “I love you so much, Iris.”

“I love you,” Iris replies, before her expression becomes more mischievous. “It’s a shame we don’t have balloons at our reception.”

“Why? Were you planning on wrangling some into our car? Personally, I’d be game. I only got to witness you successfully fit those balloons into your car last time, an admirable feat, I might add.” Iris shakes her head fondly, feigning mild exasperation, while Barry laughs.

“Spoken like someone who has never had the view from his rear mirror constantly marred by inflated balloons,” Iris sighs. “And so no, I do not want to attempt to take any inflated balloons with us in a car, but I guess I was just feeling slightly nostalgic, because it was at my dad and Cecile’s wedding reception that I think I realized that I’ve always been in love with you.” Iris looks down at their intertwined hands, while Barry’s gaze becomes solemn, then, as he tucks an errant strand of hair that had come undone from her elaborate bun behind her ear.

“Well, that was also the night I first really told you how I felt,” Barry replies, and Iris glances up at him, surprised. “Yeah. Do you remember when I said that something incredible has always been in front of me, and I just really should throw caution to the wind?”

“I remember. You were talking about me. About us,” Iris whispers, and Barry nods, caressing her cheek gently, his touch warm and comforting against her skin.

“Yeah. I guess that was one of the many times I really came close to spilling my heart out to you, but Linda was also there, and I figured your dad’s wedding reception probably wasn’t a good place to tell you how I feel. Although I do think the spirit of weddings prompted that particular confession that night.”

“It’s silly now, looking back, but I remember thinking that you were talking about someone else at the time, and that’s when I truly realized that I am absolutely in love with you and have been for years.”

“I know that was all cleared up quite quickly, but I could never have been ever talking about anyone else,” Barry says, and Iris smiles, turning her face into his hand and placing a soft kiss on his palm.

“I know, Bear,” she replies, but from his expression, she can sense his adamancy about providing abundant clarity.

“It only has ever been you, Iris. It only has ever been you,” he whispers, and she lays her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat underneath her palm, before murmuring,

“And you’re the only one. You’ve always been the only one. And you and I have the rest of our lives to tell each other every day.” Barry adjusts, so that she is completely encircled by his arms, while he presses his lips to the crown of her head, as she, in turn, wraps her arm snugly around his waist.

“The rest of our lives,” he echoes, as his arms tighten around her. Iris smiles, glancing up at Barry, and remarks,

“Sounds pretty amazing, doesn’t it?” And he grins widely, bending his head towards hers and whispering,

“Absolutely incredible,” against her lips, before kissing her soundly.

[mists-of-hithlum]

TW: Non-graphic character death

They call her marred.

Finduilas has lived her whole life with those words whispered behind her back, gossiped over when she’s out of the room and sometimes even openly discussed when her family isn’t there to protect her. Her father has told her she should just ignore them.

“They just don’t understand how the Valar work,” he tells her. “Just because you haven’t found your partner on these shores yet, doesn’t mean anything about you. Maybe they haven’t been born yet.” He smiles. “Or you are like your aunt Artanis and your partner waits for you on the other shore. And you wouldn’t call her marred, would you?”

He is right, of course. They are all right. It’s not like their family isn’t the subject of too many rumours already. Her father knows exactly how it feels when people whisper about you behind your back.

But somehow, this is different. It is personal. It is against her, not against the circumstances of her birth or who her grandfather chose as his partner. It isn’t like the rumours the bored nobles of Tirion like to circulate about Indis and what she did to earn a place at Finwe’s side or how Arafinwe’s children and grandchildren shouldn’t count as real Noldor. They hurt too, of course, but when they call her, Finduilas, daugther of Artaresto, a flaw in the music, it cuts deeper.

Especially because they are right.

She debates herself over and over if she should ask Fëanaro about the rumours. He is the only other one in the family they single out too. But everytime she is either too afraid of his famous temper or another rumour makes her doubt again. What they say about him is so much worse than what they say to her, so she doesn’t. She shouldn’t trouble him with such trivial things.

When darkness falls over Tirion and flames light up eight swords with their light, Finduilas chooses to go even before her parents have said anything. She feels like she’s suffocating here in Tirion, with the gossip chasing her every step. Marred, seem the stones to whisper. Those blank, white stones without a flaw who mock her even in the pale light of candles and torches. Staying here would be a slow, agonizing death only prolonged by the absence of her family. And maybe, a voice in her head whispers, she’ll finally find her other half on the other shore, like her father told her once.

Not even her mother staying and Arafinwë turning back manage to change her decision.

It doesn’t take long for the rumours to start again.

After that first battle and after Findecano’s daring rescue of Maitimo – Maedhros – the gossips stay quiet about her. There are far more interesting things to discuss. But then comes the Mereth Aderthad.

Her father parades her through the entire feast. She cannot find a better word for it. Of course Finduilas knew he wanted her to find her partner. His absolute conviction that someone is waiting for her and he only needed to find them warms her heart on some days. On others, she wants to scream and smash things. She doesn’t need anybody. No matter what the Valar told them about Eru’s plans, how every elf has someone designated for them, she is whole on her own. But the other elves don’t understand and so she grits her teeth and smiles through a thousand introductions, handshakes and empty words.

Just once she gets a moment to herself. When she leaves her father’s side with the flimsy excuse of wanting something refreshing to drink, she can already hear the rumour mill working again. She snorts. For seemingly immortal beings, the elves are awfully obsessed with every little thing that changes.

“Don’t listen to them.”

It takes her a moment to recover from the unexpected visitor at her quiet little corner.

“Still as observant as always, cousin,” she greets Mai Maedhros and smiles the first real smile since the start of the feast.

Maedhros raises an eyebrow. “You know our family. Being observant is a survival skill here.”

Finduilas laughs and for a moment she can nearly forget about the scars that now mar her favorite cousin’s face and the hand he is missing. It’s like they are back in Valinor, young and carefree, with nothing to fear.

Maedhros’ next words destroy that illusion quite efficiently. “Don’t listen to them. You aren’t marred or tainted by Morgoth, no matter what they say. Believe me, I would know.”

It takes a lot of Finduilas’ self-control to not get up and smash the nearest tent into pieces because she can’t get to Morgoth right now to avenge her cousin. “I’m trying. I know they are wrong, but they just never stop.”

“And they never will,” Maedhros agrees quietly. “But they don’t matter, pitya tuilë. Someone will always gossip about you behind your back. That is the nature of the court. Your conviction is your armour. They don’t get to decide how you live your life.”

Finduilas raises her chin. “They won’t,” she promises.

A flicker of white fire raises its head behind Maedhros’ eyes. “Good,” he says and disappears the next moment back into the guests.

It is the last time she’ll see her cousin alive. Afterward, a part of her is glad she didn’t need to witness his downfall.

“Finduilas! Here you are!”

After Maedhros left, it doesn’t take her father long to find her again.

“I want you to meet somebody.”

Those dreaded words. But as Maedhros told her: Other people’s opinion of her doesn’t matter. It can’t hurt her.”

So she takes her father’s hand and lets herself be led to a handsome young Noldo with eyes grey like stone. The way his eyes never seem to leave her make her want to roll her eyes. Another one to disappoint then.

“This is Gwindor, son of Guilin,” her father introduces him. “He is one of your uncle Finrod’s people. Gwindor, this is my daughter, Finduilas.”

“Descriptions do not do your beauty justice, my princess,” Gwindor greets her. “I am glad to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you,” Finduilas replies politely instead of a snappy retort.

“In truth, you look like the pools of Ivrin when Arien herself shines on them!”

“It is an honor to meet you, Gwindor,” she answers and the hope in her father’s eyes nearly makes her want to throw up.

Once Gwindor gets over his worship of her – and truly, Finduilas isn0t so beautiful, not compared to her other family members – they get along quite well. She discovers his delightful sense of humour and they have great fun mocking the other members of Findarato’s court behind closed doors. Faelivrin, the name Gwindor gave her on their first meeting, becomes a joke between the two of them.

Her father still hopes she will one day discover that she loved Gwindor all along and Finduilas will have to disappoint him once again. She does love Gwindor. She really does. Just not in the sense her father and everybody else seem to want.

Gwindor is alright with this. It was a long, tearful conversation after Finduilas’ armour finally broke down and she told him everything. He accepts her the way she is and he couldn’t give her anything more. In return, he told her about his partner who died crossing the Helcaraxë and how he wants nothing more than what she’s ready to give him either. They never tell anyone else about those things. Their bond is their own and if others want to assume things, they are free to do so.

And then, the Noldor start to lose.

Aegnor and Angrod die first. Then Celegorm and Curufin come, Finrod gives everything up for a stranger and when the tales from the heroics of Beren and Luthien are sung all over Endor, Nargothrond quietly mourns its king. Her father steps up after his brother, but it is never the same.

When Gwindor leaves with his warriors, Finduilas nearly wants to call him back. She doesn’t. She knows why Gwindor needs to do this. He knows why she can’t be at his side. They don’t owe each other more than the other is ready to give.

They part and he doesn’t return. Finduilas knows he isn’t dead and that makes it worse. Their bond isn’t as strong as a marriage bond, isn’t as solid as one of two people who know their feelings for each other, but it was always there. She feels the pain Gwindor goes through even if he tries to shield her from it and she mourns for the elf he was. Even if through a miracle he gets back, he will never be the same again.

Through it all, only the hope of Gwindor one day returning keeps her going. After everything, the whispers have transformed into sharp-edged things meant to hurt. Her armour is strong, but even an armour can’t protect her from everything. Maedhros’ words have always helped her, but they can’t help her when she blames herself too. Maybe she really is marred. After all, everyone she loves leaves.

The miracle she hoped for goes by the name of Agarwaen and carries himself with the aura of a king.

Finduilas isn’t proud of herself for what she does next. But over the years Gwindor was away, the rumours slowly started to become unbearable and the man is right there. He clearly won’t fall in love with her and even if he somehow will, one day, she won’t have ruined him by pretending to be in love. Humans have more than one option in their lives, her uncle once told her. It still seems strange to her but she won’t complain when she gets such an opportunity.

Her father doesn’t look happy, but at least the rumours stop.

Gwindor doesn’t agree with her, but he understands. After their big argument, when he tells her Turin’s true name, they come to a truce. He still loves her and she still loves him. Their bond once again strenghtens when they decide they don’t need to put a name that doesn’t fit on their relationship. When she (badly) pretends to be in love with the human, Gwindor won’t stand in her way.

And really, she doesn’t truly love him. Maybe that’s enough to shield her from the curse.

Later, that misjudgement will cost her everything. Later, she will die alone and afraid on a hill for something out of her control. Later, the history books will paint her as a tragic figure, torn between two men she fell in love with. Later, the people who once couldn’t stop gossiping about her will forget her, an unimportant figure in a much grander history. Later, she will be remembered as the weak-willed child of a weak-willed father, a princess who died with her kingdom.

The history books won’t mention how she didn’t even get to die beside the one she loved.

When she finds herself in the halls of Mandos, she keeps to herself.

Gwindor’s beloved is here. She’s felt him die before her, so he is here too. Now they have a chance at reuniting. No need to ruin their happiness when they still haven’t found out how they truly feel for each other. Nobody on Arda needs a second Finwe-and-Miriel-and-Indis type of situation. Maybe in a couple of centuries, she’ll go and search for them. Right now, they are better off without her.

Finduilas doesn’t get a couple of centuries. She doesn’t even get a month, if her hazy sense of time in those halls can be trusted.

“Here you are! We had search everywhere for you! You aren’t still mad because I ruined your favorite brush, right?”

Finduilas looks up, disbelieving, straight into Gwindor’s grinning face. “Gwindor, you apologized at least a hundred times, got Tyelpë to make me a custom fit new one and that was more than twenty years ago! You can’t possibly believe I’m still mad at you…”

She trails off when his grin only gets wider. “I knew that would get you to talk,” he proclaims, satisfied. “Now get over here and meet my partner. I’m sure you two will get along great.”

Of course he’s right. Tinwë is a delight and she can see why Gwindor fell in love with him so many years ago. Quick-witted, sharp-tongued but surprisingly gentle and an excellent opponent in a discussion mark him as someone they had dire need of in Nargothrond. They’d have so much fun at court.

And maybe, she slowly likes him too. She doesn’t fall in love, just like it was with Gwindor, but there is something between the two of them that just feels right.

Tinwë is it too who finally gets her agonizing feelings for Gwindor sorted out. “You love him,” he says to her once, out of the blue, when they walk together through the endless passageways of Mandos’ halls. “And he loves you. Anyone who can’t see that is blind.”

“And what do you think about that?” Finduilas’ voice sounds strong but her hands shake.

He surprises her by turning around. “I love you too,” he says simply. “Not like I love Gwindor, but I love you. You make him happy. He makes me happy. You make me happy too.”

Finduilas has to blink a tear out of her eye when he lays a hand on her shoulder.

“He told me about the things people used to say about you. I don’t think you are marred, Finduilas. I think you are just the way you’re supposed to be. How could you be wrong? If you were different, you wouldn’t be yourself anymore.” He laughs and adds: “Certainly far more boring, that’s for sure!”

And then Gwindor comes and embraces all of them and Finduilas thinks, maybe she was right all along. Why would she need anyone when she’s the happiest she’s ever been right here, right in this moment?

And one day, all three of them walk together out of the halls of Mandos. Finduilas takes a deep breath of clean air, grips Gwindor’s and Tinwë’s hands a bit stronger and for the first time in her whole life, she feels whole.

[wwwafflewrites]

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 11—Bugs (Part 2)

The Winchesters had been generous compared to this guy. If you had been cramped before, this was suffocating. You were in the passenger seat, with a gag pulling tight on your lips.

To even consider fighting against him was a joke.

Your nose flared as you breathed heavily—as it was taking all your focus not to puke all over yourself and the van (considering you had a gag in your mouth—gross). 

You grimaced, tteeth grinding against the wet rag. Your headache was killer, and even though this was supposed to be a traumatizing event, you could feel yourself on the verge of passing out. 

You sure put the nap in 'kidnapped'.

The Winchesters had probably found your little crime scene already. They both were as quick as a whip, so it wouldn't be long until they figured it all out and came for you. That is, if you were important enough to look for.

You'd like to believe you were a little more valuable than a map to find John, now. You had planted your little hints—little bits of the future for them to digest. That had to be enough to intrigue anyone. Especially the Winchesters.

It would be stupid on their end to just let you go.

The van lurched to a stop and you threw your eyes open, not even realizing they'd drifted shut.

You were so tired.

Your vision was fuzzy and it hurt your head to squint into the night. You were miserable. But you watched as the demon left, and you did a double take as he walked over to a familiar vehicle, instead.

That's my car.

It was enough to get you to press your face closer to the window. A figure emerged from behind the car. 

Meg.

You watched, dumbfounded, as she approached the demon. Didn’t she first appear in Scarecrow? That was at least a few episodes away.

You tensed as she pointed in your direction. The other demon nodded, approaching the van again.

What are they saying about me? 

When he threw open the car door, you fell with it, falling down onto the gravel without any way to break your fall.

“Well,” Meg scoffed, kicking at you, "this is disappointing. This is supposed to be 'the one'? She’s a twig.”

Other Demon™ wrenched you upward—seriously, could we please stop with all the sudden movements?—and ripped the gag from your mouth. It left a line of saliva down your chin, but you were too miserable to care. 

You snorted. “Angels tell you that? Because they never lie.”

Other threw your back into the van, and your vision grayed out.

Shit.

You blacked out—only long enough for your knees to buckle, and for you to choke under Other's iron hold—and then you were back. You were barely able to shuffle back on your feet, sputtering.

The ringing in your ears was gradually drowned out by a buzzing, and everyone paused. 

“You,” you coughed wetly, “hear that too?”

Everyone turned to watch as a great swarm blocked out the moon and stars, and you barely had enough conscience to feel fear.

Bugs.

You slid down the side of the van, alone.

Light swam over the area. The buzzing faded.

Was it them?

Shouting. Shouting and light.

Had they come for you?

You felt your eyelids flutter.

You shuddered, sobbing into the dirt when you couldn’t move.

Your panic attack still crushed your lungs as you were forcefully shaken, and, terrified, you gawked into the green eyes of a cross Dean Winchester.

You tried to push him away, but he just pinned you down, scowling and shouting some more.

“—drove—?”

"—what else—?—is there—"

“—her—all we know—”

"—did you—left—should have—"

They were talking about you, but you couldn’t give a damn.

You were so so tired.

"—concuss—"

"—don't let—"

"—know!"

"—dead?"

"—!—"

Without warning, the light around you brightened to become one blindingly white abyss. When you blinked, Dean's face was all but gone, replaced by Castiel.

"Where am I?" you asked. There was no pain. Where had your pain gone?

"Heaven," he said. He left you no time for questions before his hand reached up, caressing—

You woke abruptly to a hard slap on your face.

You gasped—you could breathe!—and your eyes shot open. 

Your headache had melted away, your aches were no more, and the rings of torn flesh around your wrists were gone, as well as your handcuffs.

You were healed.

You blinked, feeling weirdly refreshed as you looked past Dean, as if to catch a glimpse of Castiel behind him. But there was nothing. Meg was gone. Other was gone. There was just a wash of light over gravel where they had all been.

“Whatcha' looking at?”

You looked him dead in the eyes and answered, “A bitch.”

Dean frowned. “Funny,” he said, wrenching you up by the arm and pulling you away from the van. “Thought you were dead for a good minute there." 

“Not dead,” you replied, "but that was horrible."

“I don’t know, it looked like fun.”

You rolled your eyes. Asshole.

Dean still had you by the arm, pulling you toward Sam, who emerged from behind your car.

"Entire car was invested," said Sam as he approached, your bag in his hands. "Got us some weapons, though."

Sam dropped the bag and out rolled the jar of peanut butter and your loaf of bread, which was crawling with bugs.

The last of my food.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Peanut butter and bread? You live like this?" He kicked the bag away like it was repulsive.

Well, screw you too, Dean.

"Also…" Sam trailed off as he grabbed a weapon. The angel blade. "What is this?"

"It's a knife," you said innocently.

Sam's expression pinched. "Yeah, I can see that," he said. "I mean, what does it do? What is it made of? And can it kill you?"

How ironic, considering you'd died a minute ago (or… you were pretty sure, anyway). It clearly didn't take much to kill you, and that blade wouldn't be an exception.

But they didn't need to know that.

"We could always just see for ourselves." Dean shrugged when you didn't reply.

You snapped at him, "If you wanted to, you'd have done it already. You need me alive." Man, you were beginning to sound like the typical monster. That was depressing. "And it's just a fancy knife. I stole it, okay?"

"You stole our gun too," Sam said as he pulled out their gun from your backpack. "And our dad's journal. You’re quite the thief."

You scoffed. "You're one to talk, Mr.CreditCardFraud. You both love to judge me for everything you guys do daily."

Sam's expression hardened. "Oh, right, because we kill innocents and work with demons."

You gaped at him. "Are you kidding me? You thought that entire kidnapping was me working with them?!" You were on the verge of hysteria. "And I'm sure you thought all those restraints were just funhousing, right? Good times with my demonic pals?"

"Not sure what you're talking about."

You frowned. "I mean just now. Big, burly guy? Ring any bells?" You didn't feel like mentioning Meg.

"Uh… no. Nobody was here but you."

You blinked.

What.

You glanced between the two of them. “But… there was sulfur left behind, wasn’t there?”

“Doesn’t mean anything," Dean denied.

"Because you think I'm a demon. Then why haven't you tested me with holy water yet?"

"We did. Earlier. When I knocked you out. But just because it didn't burn you, doesn't mean you're not something else."

"Either I left the sulfur, or I didn't. You can't simultaneously believe I'm a demon and something else," you said, exasperated.

"Watch me."

"The van, then. The demon drove the van.”

"You hotwired it," he said easily. "See, you left a ton of blood behind—definitely enough to kill a person, mind you. When we found you, you still had blood pooling out of your stomach. And then, magically, you healed. Not a scratch on you."

Blood pooling from your..? What were they talking about? He was exaggerating, probably.

You could see where he was going. And it wasn't helping your case. "Do a blood test, then. That blood on the sidewalk won’t match with mine."

Dean leaned back, tilting his head in consideration before nodding to Sam. "Fine." 

Sam reached over, slammed the handcuffs back on your wrists, and lifted you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. 

“Kinky," you wheezed.

Sam ignored you.

You couldn’t deny that you kinda had a good view of that booty though… and his toned back and broad shoulders.

Not the time, brain. Shut up. 

Sam threw you in the Impala, and it was deja vu. Back at square one.

Slumping into the seat, you took some time to reflect.

Had you hallucinated Meg and Other?

No, you couldn't have. How else could you explain finding your car? How else could you explain the hallucinations, other than from the brain damage you got from Other repeatedly bashing your poor head on walls and sidewalks?

Your memories were a garbled mess. Like a dream confused with reality.

Then there was the whole heaven thing. Had he interfered? Was the light—instead of headlights—actually Heaven saving you? You lingered on the idea. That meant Castiel was looking out for you, at least.

There were so many things you couldn't explain yourself, much less to the Winchesters.

And Sam… Sam was going to be a hassle.

Older Sam would have tried to understand you by now. He was more level-headed. Monsters weren't all black and white in his eyes—mostly because he knew what being the monster was like.

But this Sam? He was so freaking young. Naive, grieving, and angry. Not to mention, he blamed you for the death of his girlfriend, which was setting him back on his ability to empathize with you. He absolutely hated you.

After all, instead of evidence to prove your innocence, the Winchesters instead kept finding the complete opposite. Every good deed you did was tainted by either the heaven's bloodthirsty intervention, or just your own naiveté. 

Your guilt was climbing so high that you were beginning to agree with the Winchesters. You were the monster—I mean, look at all the times I'd screwed up!

Your presence was killing people. Whether it was your intention or not.

You sighed.

Sam was twirling the angel blade in the car, getting a feel for the weapon. He said, “You know, when I said you were 'working with demons', I actually meant the one from a few weeks ago—the Bloody Mary case."

"You mean the demon I killed? Because that totally sounds like I was scheming with demons.”

Sam paused. "You killed it with this knife, right?"

You went quiet. Damn.

He twirled it again. "Thought so. So it is more than a 'fancy knife'. Makes me wonder what else you're lying about."

"As if you wouldn't be lying your head off if you were in my position. I forgot how honest you two are." You snorted. "You two have no problem lying to each other. Like, seriously? Dean, you lied to Sam about the demon knowing about Jessica's death. On your, what, fourth hunt with him since he'd gone to college?"

Hypocrites. Both of them.

The statement made Sam squint. "How the hell would you ever know?"

"Uh, I was with you? On the plane?" Anxiety pooled in your stomach.

"No, you vanished into thin air before that conversation ever happened," Dean accused. "Another reason to believe you aren't human."

"I have my sources." Sources. Right. What sources?

"And what the hell are your sources?"

Supernatural, you wanted to say, the television show that ruined my life. But how could you tell them that?

You couldn't tell them you were a demon, either. Not only because you weren't—but that would just spell out a whole lot of trouble for you. Not to mention they now possessed your angel blade.

And you most definitely couldn't tell them the truth.

So you did the insane.

"I'm psychic."

///

Tags: @megamindsdespondentcousin​ @depressedunicorn43​ , @rosaren2498​ , @pillowjj​ , @busy-bee-angel-misska​ , @elliotts-world​ , @dagnylokisdottir​ , @omg-we-really-doo​ , @millieccino​ , @regainedworld , @badgal-jackie​ , @postcardsfromliterallynowhere​ , @super-calithehamm​ , @teresa-67​ , @ofthedewthesunlight​ , @dream-believe-and-love​ 

[superfanficnatural]

The Choice Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Christian Grey x Reader 

Summary: Deciding to get over your crush on Dean, you find Christian, a mysterious billionaire that manages to split your heart into two. Finding out hidden truths, your decision becomes a hard one, who will you choose?

A/N: Here is part 3 guys, sorry it took me a while to write it! As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Angry and Possessive Dean, Jealous Dean, Slight Fluff.

Word Count: 2,052

Italics are thoughts

Masterpost

Waking up, you felt strong, warm arms wrapped around your waist, a leg rested over yours. It was the most peaceful and comfortable you had ever felt in your life: you never wanted to leave. You felt Dean’s breath brush up against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Turning in his arms, you noticed the soft and relaxed look on his face. He looked so beautiful, a contrast to his usual demeanor, steeled with lines across his forehead and adorning his eyes. You wished you could take a picture, never forgetting this moment, but his iron grip made getting out of the bed a struggle. You couldn’t help the slight chuckle that fell from your lips, of course he’s a cuddler. His eyes twitched and you felt horrible for waking him up, wanting to stay in this moment at least a bit longer. His arms squeezed you a bit tighter as he was waking up, causing a smile to erupt on your face.

He cracked open his eyes, the green color almost blinding you, “Morning, sweetheart.”

He was too adorable for you to even think about being annoyed with him, “Morning sleepyhead, sorry I woke you.”

“Waking up with you in my arms? Nothing could get better than this,” he grumbled, his morning voice deepening it further.

You smiled and gazed into his eyes, losing yourself in them. Before you knew it, he began to lean in, you doing the same, mesmerized. Your lips connected with his, moving in sync as if they were used to the action. Your heart swelled before reality hit you and you pushed away, falling off of the bed with the exaggerated amount of force you put into it. Getting back up, you risked a look at Dean, confusion and hurt written across his handsome features. A small part of you felt horrible and you struggled to keep yourself from going back into his arms.

“That was- that was a mistake, I’m sorry,” you rushed, practically running out of the room.

Dean’s POV

Waking up with Y/N in my arms was probably the best feeling I had ever felt in my entire life. I felt so complete, so at peace. Seeing her beautiful face right next to mine as I woke up made me realize that I didn’t want to wake up without her in my bed anymore. Her beauty caught me off guard and I couldn’t help but lean in, silently reveling in the fact that she leaned in too. The first taste of her nearly made me pass out. Her perfect lips finally touching mine, it put all of my wet dreams to shame. I felt so contemptuous, not wanting to break it. As if she had fully woken up, she pushed me off of her, falling off of the bed in the process. It hurt, knowing that she only reciprocated the kiss because her mind wasn’t as awake as her body was. I couldn’t help the broken look on my face as she looked back at me with shock in hers, running out of the room, shattering my heart in the process. 

Y/N’s POV

How could I let that happen? Idiot.

You were reprimanding yourself, furious that you let your body dictate your actions. What pissed you off even more was the fact that it was incredible, you had never felt that way with anyone before, even Christian. You sat down in your bed back at your room, torn between two men. How the hell am I supposed to choose between a rich sexy stranger, and the man I have loved for years that played with my feelings? After a few moments, you felt your phone buzz on the table next to your bed, the screen lighting up with a text. Reaching over to grab it, you saw that it was a text from Christian, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Morning beautiful, how are you doing today?” the text read.

Your smile reached the corners of your eyes, such a gentleman.

“Morning handsome, I’m doing great! How are you?”

His text came back in a manner of seconds, “Tired and annoyed, I’ve had several meetings with people who had no idea how to help run a company, better now talking to you.”

“Seems like you’re very busy, sure you got time to talk to me?”

“I’ll make time, if it’s for you.”

Damn, he knows just the right words to make a girl feel special. 

“By the way, where do you live? I forgot to ask earlier.”

You took a second to think of what to say before deciding that it was harmless, “Lebanon, Kansas.”

“I’ve been there a few times to scope out possible locations for some buildings, beautiful place. What do you live near?”

“Yeah, it really is. I’m near the Webster County Historical Museum. Huge difference to Seattle though,” you responded with an emoji with its tongue sticking out.

Hearing a knock on your door, you put your phone down, “Come in!”

Sam peeked his head in, “Hey, breakfast is gonna be ready in a bit,” he said softly.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon, thanks Sammy,” you replied with a soft smile, the big brute such a softy. 

“It’s Sam,” he muttered as he closed the door, coaxing a small chuckle from you. 

Looking back at your phone, “Eh, Seattle has it’s perks but it also means thousands of people know who I am so I can barely go out in public and relax.”

Typing back your response, “Can’t relate but I can see the appeal. Hey, I’m gonna go eat breakfast, I’ll talk to you soon?”

“I’ll be waiting, have a nice meal,” he finished.

Getting out of bed, you made your way over to the kitchen, the smell of bacon wafting out into the hallway making your mouth water. Walking in, you saw Dean in front of the stove, cooking scrambled eggs and bacon, the table already set with Sam sitting in his seat, looking at his phone for a case most likely. He looked over to you with a slightly hurt expression but attempted to mask it with a smile; but you knew him too well to know that it was a facade. You felt terrible, if only I hadn’t kissed him this wouldn’t have happened. You sat down in your normal seat, Dean coming up and putting breakfast on the table. Although there was a slightly awkward tension in the air, it still went fairly well, everyone falling into a conversation.

“I still can’t find any cases, it seems like we are free for a few days,” Sam chirped, turning off his phone.

“I’m not complaining,” you added, Dean nodding beside you.

Finishing up breakfast and clearing the table, you walked back to your room, Dean and Sam going their own ways. 

Pulling out your phone you opened up your text conversation with Christian, “Hey there, breakfast is finished up, you manage to get anything to eat today?”

As if he was waiting for your text, he responded immediately, “I managed to get a bit in this morning. Do you want to go out tomorrow? I would say on a date but... you know.”

You took a second to compose yourself, his bluntness both refreshing and surprising, refreshing because you had always wanted a man who knew what he wanted.

“I would love to, but I’m over a day’s drive from you, I don’t see how we could.”

“You leave that to me, just say yes, please.”

Your heart leaped in your throat, he really wants to see me. Although you were confused as to how you would hang out, you really wanted to see him again as well, “Yes.”

“Perfect, tomorrow at 5pm, meet me at the front of the museum.”

“Sounds great, can’t wait to see you,” you responded cooly but were freaking out on the inside to know that he put everything aside and is making the trip to you just to see you again.

“Me too. Hey, I gotta get back to this meeting. I’ll be seeing you soon, beautiful.” You held the phone tightly in your hand and silently squealed, your excitement for tomorrow astounding. 

Leaving your room to go to the library, Sam and Dean were already sitting down, Dean on his phone while Sam was dived into yet another book. 

“You never get tired of reading do you?” you asked, catching their attention.

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled while Dean grinned.

You sat down in one of the chairs and got comfortable, putting your feet up against the table, prompting a bitch face from Sam at which you innocently smiled at.

“Hey, I was thinking, since there are no cases, maybe tomorrow night we could have a movie night?” Dean asked with a slightly hopeful look on his face.

Movie night sounded amazing, although it was somewhat rare, everytime that you guys had one it was always super fun. It was one of the only times that all of you were able to truly bond together, like a family. Though, you always hoped that Dean wouldn’t see you as a sister in his family, more his lover. Already having set a date with Christian, you were torn on whether you should reschedule for another time and watch the movie with the boys. The deciding factor was that Christian was willing to come all the way out to you just to see you again, which managed to move your heart in ways you could never have imagined. Besides, we can just have movie night some other time.

You felt like shit for saying what you were about to say, “I uh- I have a... date tomorrow.”

Sam looked absolutely shocked while Dean looked angry, “A date?? With who?” Sam questioned.

“Remember that hunt in Seattle? Well, I met someone and we are hanging out tomorrow,” you replied warily. Dean’s jaw clenched and jealousy was written across his face.

“Seattle is a day’s drive away, how?” Sam persisted.

You sighed, “His name is Christian Grey.”

Sam gasped, “That billionaire? You’re seeing him? Well shit, Y/N, attagirl.”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from your lips but when you saw Dean giving Sam a death stare, it quickly died out, Sam giving him a confused look in response. It was as if he remembered he wasn’t allowed to be jealous nor show Sam or you that he was, steeling his face and putting on yet another fake smile, “I hope you have fun,” he spat, getting out of his seat and making his way back to his room. Sam gave you a perplexed look at which you just shrugged and rolled your eyes, getting up and following Dean. I gotta see what the hell is going on with him.

You knocked on the door, “Dean? Can I come in?”

After a few seconds, you were about to knock again before you were stopped by a grumbled, “Come in.”

You opened the door and closed it behind you, seeing him standing next to his bed, his body facing you, a defeated yet slightly angry look on his face.

“What is going on with you?” you asked.

“Are you kidding me?!” he threw his arms up in the air, “You know exactly what’s going on,” he grounded out.

“No, actually I don’t. I’m not a mind reader Dean! Is this because I can’t make it to movie night?” you guessed.

“No of cours- fuck movie night!” he yelled out, making you take a step back.

“It’s because of that rich guy who’s stealing you from me!” he nearly screamed, his body inches away from yours, when the hell did he get so close?

You gasped, his admission rocking you to your core. Before you could respond, you found yourself pushed up against the door with his hands on either side of your head. His breathing was labored, face red with embarrassment with his mouth slightly open, the air ripping in and out of his mouth. You could feel the tension and possessiveness rolling off of him in waves, his scent along with it making your knees weak and your pupils to widen. 

“I’m not losing you to another man,” he growled before sealing his promise with a kiss.

Next Part

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee yet another cliffhanger, sorry y’all but this was too perfect to NOT cut it here.

The Choice Tag List: @fuckthis-and-fuckthat​ @spnfamily-j2​ @greenarrowhead​

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp​ @shadowsinger11​ @donnaintx​

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags: @akshi8278​

Female Reader Tags: @punof-agun​ @emoryhemsworth​

[yukiwrites]

Where Your Loyalty Lies [13/??]

Summary:  Kamui’s kidnapping didn’t go as planned – She managed to get away and ended up at Silas’ doorstep. They were raised as siblings, but she has always felt different; her fangs and red eyes and urges to run amok, what did they all mean? Would going to the castle as the Crown Prince’s retainer help her find more clues? Will the war between Nohr and Hoshido be the answer to everything?

Previous chapter <=> AO3 <=> Next chapter

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Chapter 13: Determination

___________________________________________________

The beast growled at the back of Kamui’s head. She could almost feel it breathing down her neck while she wrapped herself with the thick bed sheets Eleonore had sent just a day previous. It was as though the bed -- not small but certainly not big either -- was cramped with both Kamui and her beast, as it gnawed its jaw and slithered its tongue over the young woman’s cheeks. It made her shiver within herself in a way she hadn’t done in more than a decade.

Had all of her training been for naught? Would the beast always grow just as strong as Kamui whenever the dame improved herself? 

She knew herself -- she was stronger now than in the past; she even managed to push back her itches to the point of controlling when they would happen! But all of that crumbled once they arrived together at Stockarres -- once Kamui willingly allowed the beast to take over her body to show off its prowess to all who would witness it.

It was as though the control Kamui had over her own consciousness could be snatched away from her as if they were reins of the carriage that was her life. The place she had always fought for within her; the spot whence she would be able to proudly call herself 'her own person' was in danger of being stolen from her.

Just a push was all it needed for Kamui to lose this battle.

And she didn't feel strong enough to fight back. Not after succumbing once.

Just once is all I need, it was as though the beast slithered to her ear, giggling with its forked tongue between its teeth. One more time and you're mine.

Huffing, Kamui dug her nails into her right arm, still wrapped with an old rag, though even that was being torn here and there. Part of her rationalized that if only she would go through this itch right there and then -- down there under the trees and the perpetual shadow of the forest -- it would all be okay come morning. She would be herself again.

Yet, there was no telling if she would be able to come back were she to run amok on her own -- would she return as herself, or as the beast whose ever-growing roar threatened to make her tear her own flesh apart? It will be okay, she kept telling herself. I'll be okay, I'll be okay, I'll be okay, she chanted inside her mind so as to drown the growls and roars.

Besides, she was going to meet King Garon the following afternoon -- what if she needed the power to escape? Perhaps conserving her strength-

"No!!" Kamui held her own head between her overgrown claws. "Don't tempt me into trusting you again!" She seethed under her teeth; her entire body trembling with a cold that came from within her terrified heart. "It's true that I usually feel more refreshed after- after exercising, but I can't- oh, I can't!" She sobbed into her own arm, her breath as shaky as her unfocused gaze. "I will-" she sniffled, overly conscious of the tears that streamed down unannounced from her eyes. "I'll overcome you! I’ll... I won't shy away from fear!"

Her voice echoed in the eerily empty room, the only noise of response coming from within her mind. In a desperate attempt to cling to some sort of hope, Kamui's memories fell upon her as though they were a waterfall.

The first time her Master saw her diphormism -- and told her to get strong enough to beat it to submission; the first time she agonized over her inner beast -- and the weeks of aching secrecy that followed, only to be found out by her Brother and accepted within his chest; the day she and her Lord danced, in which he accepted her for who she was regardless of her race -- as long as she did her duty, who or what she was did not matter.

Her duty; the people who accepted her. The warm and firm touch of the Crown Prince's hand on her back, making her strangely wanting to stay more within his arms than anywhere else before. The teasing smile he flashed her just on the previous night when he placed in her the trust inherent of her position. Her own past, shrouded in mystery -- the fog-like voices she oftentimes recalled from the depths of her memory; the origin of all of this grief, all of this despair.

It wasn’t simply for the way other people would accept her that she needed to overcome this daunting beast, no. It was also, and especially, for herself.

"I... I won't lose to you!" Kamui managed to roar with a conviction that was born from deep within herself -- deeper than where the beast could reach. She felt as though there was a light shining from her depths towards her voice, giving it power and strength. "THIS IS MY BODY, AND I’LL CONTROL IT AS I WILL," she huffed, sitting up on the bed as though she could look at the beast's eyes while she stared at an empty wall. "You won't terrorize me; you won't seize control of me... I WON'T LET YOU."

Then, there was silence.

The growling had grown quieter and quieter until it disappeared completely, though her right arm still itched somewhat.

Huffing, Kamui looked around as if she would be able to physically see the shadow that terrorized her life for so long, though she understandably saw nothing but the empty room all around her. She felt a smile itching at the corners of her lips while her heart thumped triumphantly. A win! She had managed to suppress the beast by sheer will!

Kamui wasn’t naïve enough to think that it would never come back -- or that she would be able to escape this immediate itch, in fact -- but being able to silence it so surely like just now was something she didn’t think she would be able to accomplish. Not after Stockarres.

Breathing deeply, the dame stretched herself before falling back on the mattress, keenly aware of the softness of the pillows and the blankets she had wrapped all around herself.

May sleep be kind to her tonight.

Dawn welcomed Kamui after the dame slept barely three hours, though she was much too anxious about her meeting with the King to truly feel the exhaustion that surely would seep into her energy later. Kamui allowed Jakob his entrance by the dresser, already wearing her uniform.

“Good morn-” Jakob opened his mouth to greet, but Kamui interrupted him without even taking her eyes away from the mirror.

“Do you know how to do a braid, Jakob?” She groaned, taking her hands away from her hair lest she cut it all up in frustration -- she had managed to make short work of the naturally wavy locks by twisting and turning them so much they barely resembled their usual look.

The dame had to find a way to replicate the hairdo Clara used to make for her -- the one in which part of her hair would be rolled into a braid around her head so as to hide her pointy ears from view. She wouldn’t be able to wear a coiffe to completely take any chances of someone figuring out that her hairdo was deliberately hiding her ears, but she didn’t feel safe enough to display them in King Garon’s presence.

Jakob smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as though tasting something foul, walking towards his lady with an impeccable poise. “My lady, if only you’d look at how I style my hair every day…” He positioned himself behind Kamui so she could see his reflection on her mirror -- once she did, she widened both her eyes and her smile.

“Wonderful! Oh, Jakob, could you please style my hair in a way that hides my ears with a braid? I never did anything more complicated than a ponytail by myself, so I didn’t know what I could do!” She clasped her hands excitedly, adjusting herself further into the chair so as to throw her hair in place for Jakob to work on it.

Sighing, the butler glanced at the hot pot of tea that would surely grow cold by the time he finished styling Kamui’s hair. “Perhaps after breakfast, yes? Your meal will run cold…”

“Please, Jakob! I’m so nervous about it, I don’t think I’ll be able to stomach anything unless I am absolutely sure the hairdo will be good enough. Probably not even after it, if I’m being honest…” She muttered the last part, fiddling with a random lock of hair that had survived the onslaught.

“Hahh, very well, milady. I shall do as you asked.” Jakob unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt, rolling his sleeves up right after. “How would you want it styled, apart from the braid? Entirely up, half-down…?”

“Honestly, as long as the braid covers the ears, I don’t care about the style; you’re free to do whatever you want with it.” She flashed an apologetic smile, scratching her cheek as though she hadn’t actually thought about anything past the braid. Which was true, of course, but she had been so focused on trying to hide her ears that there was hardly any room for other thoughts in her mind.

Once again the butler sighed, reaching for the hair brush and clips scattered all over the dresser -- which displayed Kamui’s dozens of attempts at trying to replicate the style -- before he grabbed Kamui’s head, making her look straight ahead. “Very well, milady. I shall exceed your expectations.”

Disentangling the mess Kamui had made on her own hair took longer than either of them expected. However, the butler managed to come up with an intricate yet quick to braid hairdo: starting from either side of her hair, he made two thick braids that would lay over the pointy bit of her ears, joining them together behind her head into a layered lattice look.

“Although milady is wearing your uniform to meet the King, at least your hair should be presentable.” Jakob said with a proud puff of his chest, though added in a small voice: “Especially after the mess you have made before…”

“Ahem,” Kamui cleared her throat as she enjoyed the now cold tea, unbothered by its temperature now that her hair was safely done. She would sometimes sneak glances at her reflection in the mirror -- Jakob had managed to make her look jovial and upbeat: and that was before she even put on any resemblant of make-up! Honestly, she looked so cute she even wanted to put on make-up to complete the entire set.

She would apply only a light color on her face, however. The dame wanted to look presentable before the King, yes, but she also didn’t want him to pay too much attention to her. She would be armed -- as all Knights were allowed to, though not if they were to be within a three meter radius from the King -- so that would be one less problem should things go south-

“No, no, no,” Kamui shook her head so as to shoo away the pessimistic thoughts, conscious of how her beautiful braids followed its movements. “It’ll be alright, it’ll be alright.” She muttered to herself, as if unaware that Jakob was standing in wait right in front of her. Taking a deep breath, the dame puffed her chest, psyching herself up for the upcoming challenge.

However, she would only meet the King at noon, so she would still report to her Lord as usual during the morning. Which was honestly her solace for the moment -- to dig into her duties so as to ground herself more into the impact of her choice and how much she had at stake to slip up when meeting the King who had ordered her hunt so many years ago.

Kamui would succeed.

Like when she trained herself to half-death, she would put all of what she was into following through her own goals.

It was just that, now, that goal gnawed at the pit of her stomach, urging her to get ready to put her own head inside a lion’s open jaws.

Although it took Jakob quite a while to finish her braids, since Kamui didn’t need any more preparation apart from a light make-up, she arrived at her Lord’s common meeting room at the usual time, greeting him with the same respect as she always did.

“Dame Kamui greets His Highness the Crown Prince,” she bowed gracefully after closing the door, somewhat already ingraining the noble curtsy into her from early morning instead of only turning it on during the meeting with King Garon. Her more elegant actions coupled with her girly hairstyle and features made both men take a second too long to reply to her greetings.

Richard switched the weight of his body to another leg, glancing at his Lord when Xander made a gesture for his older retainer to bring something out. Sighing inwardly, the tall man turned to the side to pick up a package -- there was something soft wrapped inside a high-quality, green brocade cloth -- which he promptly handed his Lord.

“You may rise, dame Kamui.” Xander allowed Kamui to straighten her back at the same time he got up from his desk, circling it with his characteristic elegant steps. With a glance at his new retainer, Xander could see how she had chosen her own way to dress herself to this, so to say, battle.

And it was a battle in and of itself, to meet the King under his summons -- of that Xander was painfully aware.

He could see how Kamui’s usually slit-like eyes were covered with round irises; how her noble poise slipped instead of a knightly reverence; how her back was more erect than usual -- and how her breathing was uneven even after such a short walk from her quarters to this common meeting room.

Xander spoke, “it is no simple task, the one you will be fulfilling this afternoon, Kamui.” He stopped in front of Richard, swiftly undoing the golden knot that held the ornate package, not paying any mind as the green cloth slipped open to reveal a deep violet cloak from within. “Yet it is a burden that you shall bear for as long as you are in my service,” the Crown prince stepped away from Richard, holding the cloak in his hands as he approached Kamui. “This simply holds a symbolic meaning, however it would please me greatly if you would wear this when it is time to meet my father, the King.”

Wide-eyed, Kamui watched as Xander flapped the cloak open, twirling it behind her back as he closed the well adorned clasp on her chest -- the weight of the fabric as it slowly fell over her body somehow made Kamui remember the dance they shared; it made her feel as though she were still within Prince Xander’s arms… and it made her feel safe. The golden straps which adorned her chest, right above her heart, conjoined into a brooch with the Crown Prince’s symbol: a shield in front of two crossed blades with the symbol of Nohr etched right into its middle. At the back, there was a larger one of such symbols beautifully embroidered in a way that would unmistakingly tell anyone who saw her from afar that Kamui was under the Crown Prince’s protection.

It was Xander’s way of telling Kamui that, although he wouldn’t be there with her physically, he would still be showing her his entire support through his symbol.

“My Father is a very intimidating man -- as is his duty as the King.” Xander exhaled softly as he patted Kamui’s shoulder after making sure he had properly clasped the cloak together. “This is a task you must complete on your own -- what I can do for you at this moment is to bestow my seal upon you so you can face him proudly, under my name.” He nodded, taking a step back to allow Kamui a look around herself.

Overwhelmed with the support, Kamui’s eyes burned with tears, though she managed to stop her trembling chin as she held the cloak with both hands, twirling around herself to take a look and sigh in wonder as the heavy fabric followed her movements and sprawled itself way farther than any dress she had ever worn.

Richard snorted, though it went unnoticed by the other two, wondering if his Lord had overestimated Kamui’s height. “It’s really eye-catching, so only wear it in official events from now on, yes? I avoid using mine as much as I can, so I don’t want to be seen with you while you wear this corny thing.”

“Corny?” Kamui repeated, not noticing how she smiled brightly, looking down on her shiny new cloak and twirling around herself once more as Xander turned to his older retainer to glare at him.

“I never kept this from you, my lord.” Richard raised his palms in self-defense, smirking as Xander sighed and leaned on the desk.

“It is filled with my sincere thoughts, Richard. It is not… ‘corny’.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he directed his gaze to the glistering Kamui.

Before the black-haired man could reply, Kamui raised her shiny, round eyes to Xander. “I think so too, Lord Xander. It’s a wonderful gift! I’m humbled.” She bowed deeply without ever letting go of the cloak, making her look much smaller than she actually was. “I shall hold onto this with all the care it deserves.”

Xander’s frown lessened, making way to a soft smile as he nodded to Kamui’s statement, not even feeling like pointing to Richard and telling him to learn from his new partner. He simply watched the giggly Kamui pull the cloak this or that way while she walked around the room towards her usual seat, meeting her glistering gaze more than once during the way. Her smile brightened more each time their eyes met, the beams of warmth from her pure glee kept Xander  in place, as though he wanted to keep on being the recipient of her smiles.

Once Kamui sat down, coincidentally right beside where Richard was standing, the older retainer poked his partner. “You’re wearing it now? I’m sure my Lord simply put it on you as a formality. You should take it off and only put it back on when it’s time to go.”

The dame resolutely shook her head. “No, I want to keep wearing it. Its meaning wasn’t lost on me, unlike on some people.” She bonked her head on Richard’s arm, snorting as he sighed to leave her side. “It’ll give me the strength I need,” Kamui murmured to herself, though not realizing she was still under Xander’s gaze.

Unable to stop smiling, Xander closed his eyes as though to etch this image into his mind before moving away from his spot, circling back to behind his desk so they could start their usual work for the day.

Fortunately or not, the morning passed by faster than usual -- perhaps because Kamui had been so absorbed into her duties so as to forget the passing of time that she was stunned over how well that worked. Once she gave her Lord her final bow before leaving, she could barely make out the surroundings around her due to the dizziness she got from how loud her heart was thumping.

Her steps echoed in her own ears as though they belonged to someone else while her hands dug into the cloak that danced behind her fast pace. Kamui absent-mindedly tapped onto the brooch with Xander’s seal, feeling it with the tips of her fingers as though to keep herself grounded in reality -- that served to help her stop her mind to wander into the darkest corners of her being.

The dame could barely remember what she had rehearsed she would say to the King once she was before him, her mind taking all it had to simply keep her on her feet. Kamui would glance upon her reflection whenever she passed a silver decorative armor that adorned the corridors, making sure that her ears were properly hidden, or open her arms that held the cloak so as to allow the wind to make it flap behind her in a somewhat playful manner, surprising even herself whenever a giggle was born under such circumstances.

As she arrived at Krakenburg’s common area, the air itself felt heavier to breathe, as though there was a thick layer of pressure hanging on its inhabitants’ shoulders. It was in the corridor that led to the throne room that Kamui met her brother.

“Silas!” She called out with a squeaking voice, not wanting to raise it too loudly right outside the place into which the pressure seemed to spiral out of and converge into.

“Kamui!” Silas replied in an equally squeaky voice, running to meet his sister halfway, his steps as fidgety as hers. Huffing, the siblings wordlessly looked at one another, as though trying to check if their appearance was somewhat off to meet with the most powerful man in the kingdom. “That’s a new cloak, isn’t it?” He commented, looking over Kamui’s shoulder with a discerning eye.

Somewhat shy, Kamui spun around herself to show off her Lord’s present. “Lord Xander gave it to me, as his support.” She pressed her lips to hold back a smile, her cheeks lightly flushing with the memory of Xander putting the cloak on her. “I hope that His Majesty’s eyes will fall on it instead of, well…” The dame bobbed her heads to the side, afraid to even talk aloud about her physical appearance.

“Y-yes,” Silas nodded nervously, glancing from his sister to the massive door that led to the throne room. “I’ve just arrived, so I don’t know when someone will call for us or anything.”

There were two silent guards right in front of the doors, though Kamui didn’t dare to call out to them. The both of them would wait until they were summoned inside; there was no need to urge the King to meet them, nor to annoy him into thinking that they were impatient subjects who deserved punishment.

She would get in, present herself and get out. Simple.

Kamui took a deep breath, walking a few steps until she was completely in front of the door, being followed by her uneasy brother.

Simple.

Long moments turned into long minutes that, in turn, spiralled into a very stretched out hour. Yet, the siblings didn’t so much as glance the guards’ way, patiently waiting in front of the room with their eyes fixated on the door. Their insides were already overheating from how nervously they were digesting the situation that a simple cough from a passing maid was enough to startle them out of their skins.

Kamui felt like she had been holding her breath for one entire hour; so when the massive doors creaked open, she was surprised to notice that she could inhale even more air to keep in there, making her even dizzier. If Kamui had had any brainpower to spare to think about it, she would be surprised to think that the beast kept itself obediently quiet while they waited (since it usually disturbed her whenever she was anxious), but she was already having trouble on remembering how to breathe, let alone how to think.

In the wake of the eerie wind that blew once the doors were fully open, a familiar-looking man called after two burly guards had heaved the doors open.

“Lantanoir siblings. You may enter and place yourselves before His Majesty.” His face was blurry -- and Kamui couldn’t tell if it was from her dizziness or from the swirling atmosphere that got thicker and thicker the further she stepped into the room -- but the dame could somehow remember his voice. He was the Marshal of the Court, Lord Abbington.

The Marshal spoke to them in a low voice as they walked through the long hall towards the middle, circular point over which the staircase to the throne led. He explained the common etiquette that one should bear when greeting the King, though all of his advices were mostly common knowledge, especially to the two Royal Retainers who had had that sort of knowledge beaten into them during the first weeks of their service.

Once they got close enough to the place they should kneel at, Lord Abbington stepped to the side, scurrying closer to a column as he raised his voice. “Presenting the Lantanoir siblings, personal retainers chosen by Crown Prince Xander and Youngest Princess Elise.”

Kamui threw her cloak back so as to allow herself to kneel more comfortably, unfastening her sword out of her belt to place it on the right side of her body, as the etiquette called. Since she was right-handed, placing her weapon on the right side of her body would make it difficult for her to grasp it were a battle to break out -- it was a way of showing respect to the higher authority as well as to imply that her life was at his hands should anything happen. Silas did the same two steps away from her, giving them both proper space to place their weapons away from one another’s touch.

“Dame Lantanoir greets His Majesty, the Sword that defends our Kingdom.” She lowered her head, overly conscious of how her braids moved behind her back.

“Sir Lantanoir greets His Majesty, the Sword that defends our Kingdom.” Silas said at the same time as his sister, their voices in a somehow unison as their silvery locks shone under the eerie green glow of the magical fire lit across the walls.

King Garon inhaled as though to welcome them, but no words left his mouth -- instead, it felt like a pressure hit the both of them with the intensity of a powerful gravitational magic, stemming from right above them.

“...!” Both siblings swallowed a groan of pain as the weight pressed itself on their shoulders and back, making their knees and necks cry out in discomfort.

Yet, amidst the pressure, Kamui could almost… hear something. Two somethings, perhaps? There was a vague sound of running water and… whispers. They were so soft she couldn’t make out any word of it, but it was like someone was mumbling something right above her head, at the same time she felt a pair of eyes stare holes at the back of her neck. She wanted to steal a glance at the stare, but her body was frozen under the pressure.

Had they been hit by a powerful binding magic? Why wasn’t anyone saying anything? They could barely glance at each other as they felt the thick energy lick at their faces, preventing them from properly breathing.

“It’s the first time we meet, Lantanoir siblings. Isn’t this such a wonderful family reunion?” A voice that could only be described by the sound that someone makes when they scratch a blackboard made the siblings’ hairs stand on end. “Raise your heads, both of you.”

As though compelled to, the two of them felt their heads snap up, followed by their neck complaining in pain. Their eyes met a black-haired man’s single one. He wore layers of robes adorned with golden trinkets, a black and white mask covering half of his face as he wriggled his fingers in a motion that could only be taken as witchcraft. He was chanting something under his breath while his fingers moved to apply the magic, which both Kamui and Silas imagined was the reason why their bodies were suddenly so heavy and somehow out of their control.

“I am Iago, Royal Adviser to His Majesty the King.” He opened both arms amidst a half-baked bow, a somewhat lizard-like smile growing inside his thin, dry lips. “I shall keep this brief since His Majesty does not enjoy long talks: We have heard much of the… ah, little lady’s service under our Crown Prince. Especially that you had a direct hand at saving the Eldest Princess, Lady Camilla.”

Kamui’s throat was clogged up. She couldn’t speak.

Seeing that, Iago moved his index slightly to the side, making the pressure gnawing at her neck lessen, which allowed her to properly breathe.

Wide-eyed and out of breath, Kamui glanced at her brother (who was still unable to look away from Iago) before turning back to the Royal Advisor. Now she understood why Richard was so disgusted by the simple mention of the man’s name. “I am merely the Crown Prince’s weapon.” She lowered her head once again, unable to even look upon the snake-like man. “I simply did my duty.”

Iago opened his mouth with a smirk, but was cut off by the explosive voice of the man that had been silent until now. A man that had been as tall as, if not taller than, Xander in his youth.

A man whose pitch-black armor somehow made it impossible for anyone who gazed at their own reflections in it to walk away the same. His black and white beard along with the wrinkled face tried to display the years that weighted down on him, yet the sound of his titaneous voice made all present shake within their very souls just the same as it had been in the past.

“It’s no small feat, little girl, to save the life of a royal.” Garon rested his head on one hand, not moving away from the throne despite the presence he exuded making Kamui think he had gotten up. His voice shook something inside Kamui’s very being -- it felt akin to when the beast would poke at her consciousness and bring forth all sorts of unpleasant thoughts. It was as though she was actually hearing the beast’s voice, which shook her tremendously.

Up until then, Kamui had only, well, imagined that the beast had a voice. She did hear roars and growls every now and then, but any articulate wording it might’ve had, they all came from Kamui’s own head. It was an unconscious way to make sense of the beast’s inarticulate noises so as to place herself somewhere that was removed from properly admitting that she had a... feral side deep within her. Something that wasn’t truly herself that shared her body and mind.

But when the King spoke, Kamui could feel her entire body shake with terror, as though she had been injected with freezing water that reached all the way into her very heart. Unbeknownst to her, Kamui raised her trembling gaze to him, somehow catching a glimpse of the bizarre, round statue that lay right above her head, on the ceiling.

Under the gaze of both statue and King, Kamui could only gulp in wait for his next words, gripping at her cloak to stop herself from shaking so terribly.

“Though, as you said before, it was your duty, so I shan’t concede you a reward.” Garon shrugged as though enjoying how Kamui looked like a frightened kitten drapped into his eldest son’s rags. “I will keep close watch on you from now on, Dame Lantanoir.” His voice slithered slowly, descending down the steps towards Kamui, wrapping itself around her neck and whispering into her ear: “I shall wait what other feats you will show us.”

US? Kamui couldn’t help but think amidst her despair, her body so cold it was a wonder she was still considered amongst the number of the living. Her lips trembling, it took the dame three moments too long to shakily lower her head. “I-it will be my utmost pleasure to serve, Your Majesty,” she managed to croak out in a barely audible voice.

It served to both Garon and Iago’s amusement, as both of them chuckled with the little rodent’s soft words.

“And you,” Garon turned to Silas, whose lower lip was almost bleeding from how fiercely he dug his teeth into it. Startled, the young knight felt King Garon’s voice grasp at his chin, forcing his face to turn to him as though he was using his own hand. “Try to make a better job at serving Elise than her previous retainer. Though it will be amusing to watch how long you’ll last.” He sneered as though finding the death of Princess Elise’s previous retainer a passing topic one discussed over tea.

With a simple gesture of his chin, Garon ended the meeting.

“You are dismissed.” Iago waved for the two of them to leave, the pressure above their shoulders suddenly lifting. “I shall see you around the halls,” he smiled wickedly, licking his dry lips as the two retainers gave their silent bows, collected their weapons and turned to leave.

Kamui’s legs were shaking so badly she almost tripped twice, ultimately falling on her knees the moment the large doors to the throne room closed behind them. Silas flopped on the floor beside his sister, their faces so pale they could’ve been mistaken by ghosts weren’t their breathing so aggravated.

The two guards in front of the throne room said nothing, well used to this kind of sight whenever someone new or old came out of there. Only Crown Prince Xander, First Princess Camilla and Iago, the Royal Adviser managed to leave that room with their heads held high, as though unbothered by the filthy atmosphere that surrounded it.

It took Kamui many minutes to stop her trembling, though when she thought she would have full control of her body, she started retching and was unable to stop the urge to throw up, staining the carpet right in front of her in a disgraceful manner. “G-gods, I-I’m so sorry, I, ughh…” she tried to look up to the guards behind her and properly apologize, but another wave was coming, making her throw up transparent liquid.

“K-Kamui-” It took everything Silas had not to follow suit, one of his hands dutifully stretched to pat his sister’s back as he covered his nose with the other one so as not to inhale the stench of the vomit, his own body curving into a retch as well.

“Agh, gods- hahh, hahh…” Kamui breathed heavily, throwing herself on her behind to pull her head back, squeezing her eyes so as not to look at the huge door she just vomited in front of. Conscious of her cloak, Kamui wrapped herself around it as she drew large breaths, not wanting it to touch the mess she had just made. “We need,” she huffed, feeling as though her senses started to return to her, “we need to get out of here! S-Silas-”

“Y-yes, yes, let’s go-” Silas nodded, though his legs were still limp on the floor. His body was turned to Kamui as he tried to support himself with his elbows to look up at her. “C’mon, hold my hand-” he tried to lift it for her to hold, but when she did, it collapsed on the floor with a soft thud.

“Let’s go, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Kamui muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes close and stretching them open, getting a proper view of the world after a few tries. She dared to get up, feeling more like a newborn fawn than a human being, though was still able to hold her own weight. “Silasss!” She pulled his hand with the most difficulty she had ever felt in her life -- it was as though all of her strength had been left inside the throne room, either forgotten or taken hostage until she had brought back her mental fortitude.

His body heavy, Silas leaned on Kamui’s shoulder as the two of them limped back to Strömborg without ever looking back. 

The cold air of the outside managed to wake them up in some manner until they could finally separate and walk on their own. They staggered once they reached the familiar walls, sitting on the dead grass between everywhere and nowhere, their heads still spinning.

Kamui felt terrible for throwing up on the carpet like that, feeling that she should come back there to warn someone or maybe ask for a broom or something so she could clean it herself, but her body… It didn’t listen to her as it trembled still. The afternoon air, although not as cold as when dusk fell, was still cold to their lungs and invigorating to their bodies.

The dame hadn’t needed to worry about the stains, honestly, since that was basically a daily occurrence at that part of the castle. Many weak-hearted people fainted or foamed at the mouth or even peed themselves; so vomiting was the least of it -- leastwise the most common.

Still, that shame would follow Kamui for the rest of her life -- she was so embarrassed she didn’t even have the face to go back to her Lord’s office to report that the mission had been a success. Had it, really? Probably? She barely remembered what had happened there, honestly.

The only thing that set all alarms inside her head were the eerie presence she felt staring down at her neck and the passing whispers that left as soon as she made out a word of understanding -- all of it surrounded her in place, as though wanting her to stay that way for the rest of her days.

Shivering, Kamui held herself under the cloak, trying to keep the vivid memories away lest she was sucked back in there. Her head was operating at its minimum capacity, somehow having fried itself to simply bring Kamui back to Strömborg; if she thought too hard about anything, she’d most certainly pass out.

Beside her, Silas was sitting on the grass while breathing heavily, the toll still greatly apparent on him. Taking in a shaky breath, Kamui managed to put herself on her feet once again, hugging the cloak for comfort more than anything, despite it weighing much more than she could bear at the moment.

“I’m going back to my room to put this away,” she declared in an unfirm voice, each step she took depleting her already low energy. “Then I’ll go back to Lord Xander.”

“K-Kamui, don’t force yourself, ugh…” Silas bent forward, breathing through his hands. “I’m sure the Crown Prince would understand-”

“He would. But-” she huffed, each breath refreshing her further, “but I won’t. I need to- to get used to this.”

Having said that, she left under heavy steps; leaving a panting Silas to bring himself back together.

Kamui miscalculated how much strength she would need to go up the apparently endless flight of stairs to her quarters, so when she arrived, she crumpled on the floor in exhaustion. Breathing heavily, the dame took off the cloak, using the most of her arm to throw it on the bed as she lay on the floor beside it.

She had stopped thinking at that point, so all she could do was simply follow through the motions of the actions she had imprinted on her mind before reaching her quarters: she washed her face and her mouth with the cold water always at the ready on the silver basin, then trudged to the bed to fold the cloak as neatly as she could at the moment. She then placed it atop her emergency bag, taking upon herself to bring the cloak with her whenever she went.

Surprisingly, the more she moved, the more strength returned to her, although bit by bit. Taking a quick breath, the dame braced herself to the trek down the stairs as well as the entire way toward her Lord’s common meeting room.

 Once she stood outside the door, Kamui’s head was much clearer. She could feel her whole body and, honestly, apart from the shame of the embarrassing act in front of the door, she felt mostly fine.

Kamui took yet another deep breath before using her personal set of knocks to let her Lord know it was her who requested entry.

Xander’s voice from inside sounded confused and alarmed. “Kamui?”

“Dame Kamui greets the Crown Prince,” she said in a steely tone after entering, bowing not as a noble but as a knight who had completed their duty.

“I am surprised to see you here, Dame Kamui. Approach.” Xander gestured for the dame to come closer, to which she obeyed. “Have you succeeded?”

“You’re pale. Were you not able to meet the King?” Richard asked before she could reply, though Kamui kept her head down.

“I-I was able to meet His Majesty, yes. Should I not have returned?” She fidgeted, glad that the pressure from the Crown Prince’s eyes wasn’t sickening as the one that came from his father.

“Most who meet my Father for the first time do not have the means to return so quickly.” Xander said simply, though Kamui could deeply understand the underlying meaning of his words. It was harsh, it was hard, it was daunting, to meet the King and be the same person right away. Kamui herself had wanted to curl up to a ball and never leave her room just a few minutes previous, but she managed to persevere. Looking at the worried glint in her eyes, Xander opened his mouth yet again. “Did something happen back there?”

Flinching, the dame lowered her head even more, a flush of color running through her face to display her shame. “I-I am ashamed.”

“Out with it, girl.” Richard urged, eager to know if he could use whatever she was going to say as teasing or blackmail material.

“I-” she squeezed her eyes as she fought with the lump in her throat. “Ithrewuponthecarpet!” She bowed deeply. “I’m really sorry, I feel so, so-”

“Before or after you entered?!” Richard slapped back immediately during the time it took for Xander to blink in surprise.

“A-after…” Kamui squeaked out in response, too embarrassed to lift her head to meet either her Lord’s or her partner’s gaze. Richard deliberately snorted loudly, though cleared his throat to show all present that he was controlling himself so as not to burst in laughter.

Honestly, Kamui would have smiled at his open distaste of her as usual, but since it was something that dug into her ego so deeply, she only squeezed her eyes in shame.

“Kamui, come here.” Xander’s voice snapped the dame out of her spiral of self-apprehension, making her immediately look up at him. He gestured for her to circle his desk and stand beside his chair. “Allow me to tell you a secret…”

“I can hear you.” Richard cleared his throat, somehow knowing what the so-called secret entailed.

Xander’s smirk simply grew as he whispered: “The first time Richard entered, he was unable to serve for two days.”

“I was a young boy, not a grown woman.” The Royal Retainer rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. This was a sore subject to him too, it seemed.

“He was seventeen.” Xander said as he looked straight at Richard’s eyes before looking back to Kamui. “Do not worry about what happened. Just do not allow that to happen again. Strengthen yourself; train your mind just as you do your body.”

Daring to poke a smile at the corners of her lips, Kamui nodded under her Lord’s comforting words. It was also a relief to know that her apparently unshakable partner had an unsavory past he put behind him -- it gave her the means to pave her own path in his likeness so she, too, could serve Xander with the confidence befitting her station.

For now, however, she was still left with a bit of shame and the drive to better herself so as not to allow that to ever happen again. 

[fatrainbowmermaidunicorn]

Rich Girl, Poor Boy (Jungkook x You x Taehyung) (ONESHOT)

A/N:This is a rare occurance where I write a non-idol AU 😂 and also, its not edited, so expect to find lots of grammatical error and typo errors

Jungkook sighed as he looks up at the stars lining the clear dark skies and stands up to make his way inside the huge ballroom of his family mansion, which is often dark and gloomy but tonight is filled with bright lights and people's laughter. Tower of wine and champagne dotted the table, the food, extravagant, the girls, beautiful, the music, exquisite, his parents would have hire Beethoven himself if he were still alive, anything in the name to show everyone, both enemies and allies, how powerful the Jeon family is.

This is just another normal parties for them, for their "crowd". Jungkook is raised within other big families, wealthy families with empires of their own, all only soughting for one thing; more power. But between all the money talks and business opportunities, Jungkook found one friend he knew he could trust and count on, Kim Taehyung, the one and only heir of the Kim family, his childhood friend, and next door neighbour. Taehyung and Jungkook share no similarities. Whist Taehyung prefer to enjoy the more beautiful parts in life, visiting galleries and taking photos of sceneries he foumd mesmerizing, Jungkook prefer to spend his days partying, drunk till the daylight shines and waking up with girls he wont remember the name of the next day. While Taehyung tries to hide away from his family name and fortune, Jungkook basked in every single cent of it. But still, they are the best of friends, always having each other backs againts their parents,  the judgemental society, the world.

"Hey, where have you gone?" Taehyung smile the moment he saw Jungkook came in front the massive garden door, a drink in his hand.

"Just getting a breather from all..." Jungkook looks around the grand ballromm, bright with expensive decorations and chandeliers, "this,"

Taehyung laughed.

"Why? Dont you like parties? Girls? Champagne? A place to show off your the next Jeon heir? This parties have everything you like roll into one Kookie,"

"Yah, I'm not that bad!" Jungkook glares. "You know I only embraced it because theres no way I can run from it. Or hide. You are just lucky your parents gets you Tae," he smile and pat Taehyung's back.

"And you are lucky you got me," Taehyung winked. Jungkook lets out a laugh. True. He dont think he can hold on to his sanity without Taehyung always anchoring him back. Parties, booze, girls, money, its all fun but what Jungkook really wants is to do music. Write it, sing it, performed it, play it. All of it. But music for the sole Jeon heir? Hah, no way in hell his parents is going to let him. And they are not shy in hiding it either. His parents have been telling him about his responsibility as the family heir every since he could understand what money is. Every chance and opportunity he ever had to play music, his parents destroy without hesitation. He dont have a chance to even explain how music makes him feel.

Happy.

So he buried all of it deep in the grounds. And if his parents wants him to embrace his life as a Jeon heir, then a Jeon heir hes going to be. Thus, money, parties, booze and girls.

"Maybe I do Tae," he laughs. "Old people alert," Jungkook points to an old couple, a family friend, waltzing their way to the two young men, a young girl in tow, ready to be inteoduced to the duo. Most probably their daughter, niece, granddaughter, Jungkook doesnt care, its all the same. They are all gorgeous, shallow, vain, dumb and absolutely boring.

"They never give up do they? Even when you and Adora are al-"

"Gotta go now," Jungkook quickly move away, hiding himself behind the huge, thick curtains his mother spent a fortune on. Sensing the line is clear, he makes his way swiftly to behind the buffet line, ducking every few second, trying to make it out of the room. Busy looking around for possible old people prospect he hits a wall.

A wall that talks.

"Oww! Watch where you are going you idiot!"

Jungkook immediately looks down to the girl sprawled on the floor. Not only the wall is a girl. A rude girl. And.. a beautiful one.

Jungkook smiles.

/////

Y/N looks up to the man who bumped into her. Hes now just looking at her, not saying anything. She take this opportunity to size him up. Hes all dressed up in a suit, an expensive suit at that, so he must be a guest. Shit, shes so dead. Lets just hope hes not an important guest. He is also very, beey handsome. Y/N was mesmerized for a second before she gets a grip and blinked.

"Oww! Watch where you are going you idiot!"

The man didnt say anythin, just smiling at her.

"Helloo? Are you deaf? You are blind and now you cant talk too?" She huffed and stands up on her own, holding tightly the huge coat covering her torn dress. She needs to het to the bathroom quickly, but this idiot havent moved.

"Excuse me? May I pass?"

"Oh, yeah right," the man smile and move aside a bit. When shes just about to pass him, he suddenly spoke. "How come I have never seen you before?"

Y/N was surprised at the question. In a ballroom as big as this, does this man assume he knows everyone?

"Because you hit your head and I'm just your imagination," Y/N roll her eyes. Isnt that the worse pick up line or what? The man chuckle.

"Hmm witty. I like it. But seriously. Who are you? May I know your name?"

"No. And I'm in a rush to mend my torn dress, so if you will excuse me," Y/N sighed and try to make her way again. The man stops her by pulling her hand, startling her.

"I think I can help with that" he winks and drag her outside the huge ballroom.

"Wait, where are you taking me?! Stop or I'll scream!"

"You can scream but I think you will be the one in trouble. And trust me. Do you think a criminal would wear a suit this good?" He laughs and continue to drag her along. Y/N contemplates on what he said, confused as to what he meant. But it didnt take long when he stops in front of a giant door and push it open.

Inside the room are walls and walls of clothes. Dresses, pantsuits, skirts any piece of clothing one could ever imagined.

"W-what is all this?"

"Take your pick,"

"B-but whose are all this?" Y/N walks and touched all the expensive material with the tip of her fingers. She turns back and look at him."Who are you? How can you know about this?"

Jungkook was taken by surprise.

"U-uh..." he realizes that the girl dont know who he is, and its so refreshing to meet someone who for once doesnt know who he is, and he really wants to keep it that way. "I work here. I manage the performances? These are all costume. So you can borrow one,"

"Really?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "All these expensive materials are costumes?"

"Hey, the Jeons ask for the best, and I delivered," he shrugs, feigning ignorance. Y/N ponders for a while. If its the Jeons, what he say could be true. Everybody know they live life basking in luxury "Just pick one okay? As a payback for bumping into you,"

"Well.. if you put it that way..." she grins and start to go through all the beautiful dresses she could only have ever imagine of being this close to.

Jungkook leans by the door and look at the mystery girl rummaging through his mother old clothes, a smile unexpectedly creeping up his face.

"By the way, I'm Y/N," she peeked theough the clothes and smile. "Whats yours?"

"Me? I'm uh... J-Jungkook," Y/N immediately turns to face him and raised her eyebrows at the mentioned of the name and Jungkook immediately realizes she knows who "Jungkook" is. "Kim Jungkook," he quickly corrected. "I am Kim Jungkook," he laugh awkwardly, hoping she wont notice anything.

"Jungkook? Thats your name? The same name as the heir to this household?" Y/N asks, curious.

"Uh... yeah. You know him?" Jungkook asks cautiously, crossing his fingers for her answer to be no.

"Not personally, of course," she laughs. "I dont know what he looks like but I do hear that name being mentioned once in a while," she shrugs. "And you work here? Isnt that confusing?" She giggles.

"Uh no. I dont really work in close proximity with him. Hes always out and about. Doing uh... stuff," Jungkook answers nervously. "And we also look totally different,"

"Yeah? Well, if he is as handsome as people say he is, maybe you guys have a lot of similarities," Y/N laughs and went back to dive inside the closet

"Maybe..," Jungkook smiles. "Maybe we do," Oh Y/N, you have no idea.

/////

"You keep texting and smiling these days Y/N. Is someone having a new boyfriend?" Adora giggle and peek her hewd to the phone screen that Y/N is holding, which she quickly hide with a blush on her face.

"N-no. Not a boyfriend...."

"But.. it is a boy?" Adora's eyes turned wide, her grin; bigger. "Oh my god, why didnt you tell me?! Im so excited! Who is he? Where did yoi two meet? Show me a picture!"

Y/N laughed.

"Well.. I uh didnt think you would be interested in my love life, since you know.. you are my-"

"Friend?" Adora glares at her. "That better be the end of your sentence L/N Y/N!" She crosses her arms across her chest and frowns. Y/N smile sheepishly.

"Y-yeah. Friends," Y/N agrees, eventhough she knows they are no where near to being friends. But she knows better than to defy Adora. Her relationship with Adora is... complicated? Well, not really. Shes her personal maid. Enough said. Although Adora prefer the word "handmaiden" or "personal assistsnce" or her personal favorite, "friend". To be fair, Adora really does thinks of her as a friend, and treated her like one too. But Y/N know her place. Shes a maid. Thats all she is. She jumped from one job to another, washing peoples clothes, washing dishes, picking up trash to get by, and by luck, out of million others who applied, Adora, the only daughter of a multi millionaire pick her to be her "personal assistance". She has only been working with her for a month, but she can already tell that Adora has the heart of gold.

"So who is he? You should tell your friend this kind of things you know," she giggles. "How did you two meet?"

"Well... actually. We uh met at that party you brought me a month ago," she blushes and looks down.

"Shut up!" Adora squeals. "You have met him a month ago and this is the first time I'm hearing this?! You have been texting this guy for a month?!"

"Well... yeah?"

"Oh gosh, things must have been serious! Tell me more!" Adora gushed excitedly. "And you met him at the party? Thats means he must be some other chaebol too! Oh Y/N, we can have a double wedding!"

"What?" Y/N laughs. "Okay, first of all, I only known him for a month. And second, hes not a chaebol. He works there. Do you think some rich kid would even spare me a second glance. I was there at the party as your m-mai-" her words trailed off when Adora glares. "Uh friend. I was only there as your friend, not even in the guest list,"

"Well, anyone would be blind to not fall for you. You are beautiful, inside and out," she smiles. Y/N nods and gave her a small smile. She knows Adora is just being nice, but coming from a beauty queen that has everything like her, it does means a lot. "Okay, I have to go meet my fiance. But you are not off the hook yet! You will definitely tell me everything about this mystery guy when I came back okay?"

Y/N laughs and nods.

"Anything you need me to prepare for while you are out?"

"Hmmm, nothing," Adora ponders. "Oh right, my fiancee is coming here after the cake appointment. So maybe you can prepare some tea and cakes or something?"

"Wait," Y/N pretends to gasps. "You are telling me I finally get to meet this infamous fiancee of yours?"

Since she has only been working here for a month, she has never met Adora's fiancee. She never asked about him either. All she knows is that his family is just as rich as Adora's is and they are childhood friends. Their parents sets them up together so that the famoly money will stay close.

"I guess you finally will," she winks. "Ill see you okay? Love ya," Adora picks up her Balanciaga purse and give her a flying kiss before heading off to the car where the driver is waiting.

Well, she guess she better prepare something special for this special guest then.

/////

"Seriously, why am I being dragged to a cake testing?" Taehyung complaint for the gazillion time as they walk passed rows and rows of expensively decorated cake.

"Because Tae, its free food. And you are my bestfriend, so you should get tortured with me," Jungkook shrugs and poke one of his fingers in one the cake and lick the cream off.

"You both can afford the best wedding planner ten times over, why even bother to taste the cake? Cant you pay someone to do it?" Taehyung poke the same cake and licks it clean too.

"Because," Jungkook roll his eyes. "As if you dont know my fiance Tae. She aims for this to be the wedding of the millenium. And shes a superb bridezilla. She wants to have a say in everything. And apparently, she wants me around while shes saying it,"

"And you follow what she says because?"

"So that I can go home and sleep peacefully at night and not have her and my parents all nagging at me to take this damn wedding seriously!"

"Damn wedding?" Taehyung raised an eyebrows. "I thought you have accepted the fact that you have always meant to marry one of our own? And shes your closest friend, other than me of course. And isnt it you who said, "If I have to marry for riches, I'm glad its Adora"?"

"Well..." Jungkook scratched his head. "That was before I met someone..." Taehyung's eyes widen. "At that party a month ago,"

"You are engaged Jeon Jungkook, what do you mean you met someone?!"

"Shut up okay! We dont want Adora to hear!" Jungkook hissed while looking around. "I just did okay. Its not like I planned it. Shes just so... refreshing. Not to mention... so undeniably beautiful," Jungkook smiles.

"What the hell Kookie? You sound as if you really like this girl. And you never like anyone!"

"I dont know Tae. Shes... different," Jungkook shrugs. "And I really think I want to try with her,"

"Oh my god," Taehyung rans his hands across his face. "So what are you going to do? The wedding is in a few months,"

"I seriously dont know Tae," Jungkook sighs.

"Well, I think, what you need to do now is..." Taehyung smile and nods to someone behind Jungkook, and Jungkook knows exactly who that is by the sound of her expensive heels and the smell of her even more luxurious perfume, "is taste the damn cake with your fiance,"

/////

Tea... Cupcakes... Sugar... Creamers... Short breads...

Y/N arranged the centerpiece for the millionth time as she straighten the teapot again. All ready for Adora and her fiance. Y/N wants it to be perfect. After all, thats the best she can do for the nice treatment Adora has been giving her all this while. She straighten her dress and pick at a lose thread and takes a deep breath. Why is she even so nervous? Y/N chuckle to herself.

She quickly make her way to the doorway once she heard the sound of engine running at the driveway.

That must be Adora.

She opened the door to welcome a smiley Adora who linked her arms to hers while pushing a box of cakes into her other hand.

"Here. I brought some of the cakes we tasted. Tell me what you think okay?" She smiles and walked with Y/N to the tearoom. Y/N looked behind her shoulders to see if there are any guests.

"Wheres uh-"

"My fiancee?" Adora giggles. "You are really eager to meet him dont you? He will be in in a minute. Lets just go first. Hes been here a million times, he knows how to welcome himself in," she takes a seat at the neatly arranged table and Y/N quickly rushed over to served her the tea and cakes.

"You did a good job Y/N," Adora nods at the selection of tea and desserts spread in front of her.

"Thanks miss. I-"

"Dora, where do you want me to put your-" Y/N halted from pouring the tea, spilling it on the table the moment she heard the voice. very familiar voice. A voice that she heard for the first time a month ago, but it never left her mind... and heart. Her heart stops as she looks up from the spilled tea and Adora's frowns to see the face of the man that has been haunting her dreams. And by the look of how he too stop mid sentence, Y/N is pretty sure he recognizes her too.

"Jungkook?"

Adora quickly turns her head up from Y/N to Jungkook to Y/N again. Confused on how the two know each other. Confused on how her maid can adress her fiancee so casually.

"Wait. How do you know his name?" Adora looks at her, a frown on her face. "Dont tell me you two know each other?"

"Well, we uh..," Y/N gulped and looks from Adora to Jungkook, not really sure what to say. Is this really Adora's fiancee? She will kill her if she knows about her and Jungkook. "We-"

Jungkook quickly recovered from his shocked and cut her off.

"No we dont. I have never seen her before in my life. Maybw you got the wrong person?" Jungkook shrugs and place Adora's thibgs on the chair.

"But babe, she knows your name?" Adora looks at him, still suspicious. He kmows Jungkook is a ladies man, but he promise he will honor their relationship, although they both know he doesnt love her.

"Baby, almost everyone know my name. But that doesnt mean I kmow them now do I?"

Y/N looks at the two conversing like she isnt even there, dumbfounded. Is Jungkook really the wrong guy? Or is he pretending not to know her? But why? But then again, the Jungkook she knows cant be Adora's fiancee right? Her fiancee is the Jeon's heir. Are they twins or something?

"Are you sure Kookie? Y/N looks like she really knows you," Adora tilted her head, confused and suspicious.

"I dont babe. Who is she anyway?" Jungkook took a step forward and look at her. Y/N stares back, taking in all his features. His brown doe eyes, his bunny teeth, the mole under his lips... yes its him. She can recognize him anywhere after the countless photos they exchanged through texts. "Your friend?"

"Y-yeah, she uh.. my friend," Adora smiles. Jungkook looks at hee and back to Y/N again after her stutter and laughs.

"Babe, why is your friend serving you tea then? Are you befriending the help again?" Jungkook laughs and take a sit. "Hey, pour me some," he motioned to Y/N. With shaky hands and beating hearts, Y/N went over and serve the man the tea she work so hard to made perfect.

Adora ignores him and ask him again, seeking confirmation. "Are you sure you dont know her Kookie?" She turns to Y/N. "Y/N? You sure?"

Y/N gulped. Should she tell the truth? But whats the point if Jungkook himself is hiding the fact that they know each other right?

"I dont babe. Just trust me already," Jungkook sighed, saving Y/N from answering. "Besides, where would I even know a..." he looks at Y/N with disgust. "A maid from? I dont even remember my own maids, why would I remember yours?"

Y/N felt her heart stop. So much for thinking hes the only guy at the party that wasnt stuck up and see people for who they are and not their status. Hes actually the worse of them all!

"She was at the party a month ago Kookie. The party at your house? Remember? I brought her along,"

His house. That explain the closet full of dresses. Gosh Y/N, how are you so stupid? Works with costume? Same name as the heir? So gullible Y/N! Serves you right.

"Nahh, doesnt ring a bell. Maybe she saw me baby," Jungkook shrugs. "I am afterall is the host,"

"Y/N?" Adora looks at her.

"I-I uh.." Y/N tried to blink back the tears and embarrasment she felt. "I was mistaken. Im very sorry Sir, Miss," she bows.

Adora sigh. "Fine, I will believe you Y/N because I know you wont lie to me. Now I need to make one phone call, Kookie, will you help Y/N carry my stuff inside?"

"Its okay! I can do it on my own!" Y/N quickly interjects. Theres no way she wants to be alone with Jungkook, sorry, Jeon Jungkook right now.

"Dont be stupid. Its a lot. And its Birkins. I dont want you to drop them," Adora giggles. "I went shopping earlier. Help her Kookie, I'll be back," she smile and went out to her call.

Y/N kept quiet and quickly gather up the bags. Jungkook immediately gran her wrist the moment Adora left the room.

"Y/N, I can ex-"

"Sir, please let go of my hand. I need to get going with Miss Adora's bags," Y/N tries to shake him off.

"No! You are not going anywhere until you let me explain!" Jungkook insisted, turning her to face him but Y/N immediately avoid eye contact. How can she look him in the eye after what he did. All her life, her friends have been embarassed by her because of what she do, she cant believe she fell for a guy who felt that way about her too.

"You dont need to ecplain anything Sir, I understand,"

"Stop fucking call me that! And just let me fucking explain!"

The harsh words struck a cord in her, making Y/N bravely look up to his face. "Explain what huh? How you lied to me about who you are? Or how you just insulted me? Or how you are sooo embarassed to actually admit that you know me?" She lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Of course you are. You are the great Jeon Jungkook right? How can you be associated with a maid? How can you even be friends with one?! And you are even engaged!"

"Y/N, please," Jungkook look defeated but still grab her hand before she can walk away. "You dont understand. My world... its different than yours. Its all about money, and status. Adora and me is not even in love with each other but we are getting married because her family status is the only one that matches mine!"

"Right Jungkook, blame it on the money, on the status. But you know what, all that doesnt determined what kind of a person you are. The disgusted look on your face when you realized that I'm your fiancee's maid? No one can fake that," she laughs. "I was wrong about you. Your kind are all the same!"

"W-wrong about me? What do you mean?" Jungkook pull her back again. "Y/N please okay? Give me time to figure things out. Its hard for me!"

"Its hard for you? Really?" Y/N laughs again. "Then I'll make it easy for you. Just forget that you ever knew me. I'm just Miss Adora's maid!" She yelled and grab all the shopping bags.

"Y/N, atleast let me-" Jungkook tries to grab some of the bags from her.

"Just dont Jungkook," she said so weakly and brokenhearted, Jungkook stop mid track. "Just dont okay? Just stay here and have tea with your fiancee. She deserves better," Y/N quickly grab everything and ran off, leaving Jungkook standing alone in the tea room.

/////

Y/N kicked the lose stone with her foot, sighing loudly. After rearranging the Birkins in Adora's massive closet, she was dismissed, much to her relief. Although she is unsure whether her dismissal is cause by Adora suspicion about her and Jungkook or just because her help wasnt needed. Whatever it is, Y/N was grateful as she make her way to the empty garden. She needs to get whatever the hell it is that happened earlier our of her system. She needs to get Jungkook, Adora's fiancee, the Jeon's heir Jungkook, out of her system. She dont know how much longer she can work here. Once Adora and Jungkook gets married, she is pretty sure she will be seeing him even more. She decides to quit as soon as he find something else. Although working with Adora pays good money, but she values her insanity more. She has to quit. She will quit right after the wedding. When Adora dont need her help as much anymore.

"Hey, I didnt know anyone is here? I'm usually the only one who hangs around here," A male voice interrupted her thoughts as she felt his presence sitting down besides her. Y/N look up to the most handsome man she has ever seen. She almost rub her eyes, thinking shes dreaming. How can anyone who looks like that be real?

"I-I'm sorry. Im new here. The whole month I was here no one ever comes to this garden," she quickly stands up amd bows, ready to walk away. The man laughs and pull her wrist, asking her to sit down. For a monent when their skin touched, Y/N felt butterflies.

"Hey its alright. Its a big garden, we can share," he smiles and Y/N immediately feel comfortable. "And also its my fault, I havent come to visited Adora for so long. So thankyou for keeping my favorite garden bench warm,"

"Oh. Y-you are Miss Adora's friend?" Y/N immediately stands up and bows. Adora might treat her like a friend, but she is pretty sure her friends doesnt. And the way Jungkook just treated her proves that. The man furrowed his brows, confused.

"Why are you bowing? And why do you call Dora miss?"

"I'm uh her-"

"Wait, are you her personal helper?"

"Yes, yes I am," Y/N smile at the term the man use. Personal helper, instead of maid. Shes also sure that if this main is Adora's friend, means hes part of that world. The world that Jungkook said cared about status and money more than anything. He would definitely shoo her away now that he knows shes the maid. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. Miss Adora said I can use this garden if I wanted too. I didnt know someone else uses it too,"

"Where are you going?" The man pouts. "Just stay here and talk to me somemore. I'm bored. I mean, if tou dont mind?" He looks at her. Y/N blinks. He still wants to talk to her eventhough shes the help?

"B-but, maybe you didnt hear me. I'm Miss Adora's maid,"

"Uh okay?" The man looks at her confused. "Ohhh, do you have to go and do for her right now?"

"N-no. I mean... I'm a maid. Are you sure you want me to stay and talk to you?"

"Whats wrong with that? A helper is just a job, not who you are. And plus, why wouldnt I want to stay and talk to a pretty girl like you?" He winks, making Y/N blush. Y/N contemplate for a momebt, and after a bad day she had, maybe talking to this handsome stranger is what she needed.

"Okay. Maybe I can spare a few minutes," she smile and sits back down.

"Just so you know, Im not some weirdo or anything. I came here with my friend, hes Adora's fiancee. Maybe you know him?" Y/N nodded slowly. Oh.. so he knows Jungkook too, which means they are all childhood friends. "I'm Kim Taehyung by the way, whats your name?"

Y/N smile. Even his name is beautiful.

"I'm L/N Y/N. Hi Kim Taehyung, its nice to meet you,"

/////

"Is Tae really coming Kookie?" Adora plays with her freshly manicured fingers and looks at her fiance.

"Yeah. He promised me," Jungkook answered lazily. He spent the whole day at Adora's house after the fateful meeting with Y/N earlier, hoping to catch a glimpse of her again, but nothing. Adora had dismissed her for the rest of the day. Now she suggested they went out for dinner, and to avoid the boring conversations he would have with his future wife, he ask, no, forced Taehyung to come with him, which suprisingly, he said yes easily.

"Maybe he bailed. You know he hates to third wheel us Kookie. Why do you always drag him anyway?"

"Well, because hes the best man babe. He should know stuff. And also, he said hes bringing a date tonight," Jungkook shrugs.

"A date? Taetae? Who? Do I know the girl?"

Jungkook turns to look at his fiance and smirks. "Is that jealousy I hear babe? You know I'm still your fiancee right?"

"What the hell are you even talking about? Why would I be jealous if Taetae dates someone?" She laughs awkwardly. "Its about time he does,"

Jungkook laughs and roll his eyes. "Oh please babe, anyone can see you have the hots for him since we were five. Too bad your stuck with me. Dont worry, I still support your love for him. I think you will be good for him," Jungkook laughs. Adora's face turned red.

"Shut up! And dont say anything to anyone. Remember I'm marrying you wild bunny! And what an unfortunate luck that is," she laughs.

"Girls would kill to be you babe, you know that," Jungkook smiles. "Here comes your lover boy," Jungkook motioned to the red Jaguar parked outside as Taehyung huddled out.

"Hey Tae," he smile. "Wheres your imaginary date?" Jungkook looks around and laughs. Taehyung hits his shoulder and laughs.

"Its not imaginary. But then again, shes so beautiful, you might not think shes real," Taehyung winks.

"Whatever," Jungkook roll his eyes. "Where is she?"

"Actually, I'm here to pick her up," Taehyung smile, making both Adora and Jungkook confused. "Here she is now," he motioned to Y/N whos walking through the lawn from the maid's door. "Dora, I hope you dont mind I'm taking Y/N out tonight?"

Adora's eyes widen in surprise, jealousy stir inside of her but she still feel happy for Y/N as she knows that Taehyung will take good care of her. She plastered on a smile.

"Y/N? Shes your date?" She grins. "Sure Tae. Just make sure you show her a good time,"

"You know I will," he winks and reached out his arms to Y/N. "Hey, you look beautiful," he smiles.

Jungkook who has been watching the whole thing quietly clenched his fist without realizing. When the fuck did Taehyung meet her? And she said yes to his invitation just like that?!

Y/N almost stop mid way when she saw Jungkook and Adora at the hallway. Taehyung only asks her out to dinner, he didnt say its a double date! She almost turned back but Taehyung already approached her.

"Hey, you look beautiful," he smiles.

"H-hi Tae," she blushes shyly and start fussing with her simple sundress the moment she saw both Taehyung and Jungkook in a suit and Adora in a enchantingly beautiful dress, no doubt designer. What the hell is she thinking? She accepted Kim Taehyung's invitation , one of the most sought after heir there is, yes she googled, and she thinks her sundress is good enough? "I - uh I didnt know Jungkook-ssi and Miss Adora is coming too," she leans in and whisper to him. "I think I'm under dress,"

Taehyung laughs.

"You look very beautiful Y/N," he reached out and hold her hand, making her feel hot all over. "She does right?" He beams at the other two. Adora quickly link her arms with her. "You do! It doesnt really matter what you wear Y/N!" Adora leans in closer to her. "Especially not when Kim Taehyung keeps on looking at you like that," she winks, making Y/N blush ever more.

Jungkook who heard what Adora said felt her whole face heat up. That little- urghhh.

"Come on Kookie. Lets go. Lets drive our own car and leave the lovebirds alone," Adora giggles and link arms with Jungkook. Jungkook looks up to see Y/N's reaction to what Adora said. Surely she must felt something. Just this morning they were still texting each other! But what he sees when he looks up is Taehyung staring at her, smiling shamelessly and Y/N staring back, smiling shyly.

This date night is going to be a loooong night.

/////

Things were going well between Y/N and Taehyung. After that surprisingly comfortable and not at all awkward date night, they have gotten closer. Taehyung spend a lot of time at Adora's house now. Main excuse being he is Jungkook's best man and he have to be there, but with all the dismissal Adora kept giving her when Taehyung is around, everyone knows the real reason Taehyung is around.

Still, seeing Jungkook and Adora together still hurts her sometimes. Seeing him laugh with her, joking around. Y/N knows they dont love each other, but the comfortable level and chemistry they have with one another, after being friends since they were born, makes her jealous sometimes. She can see the real side of Jungkook whenever she came in to serve them dinner or tea, or help Adora with some of her things. She can see what a dork he really is, despite his label of being a wild, party man. She can see that hes funny, caring, competitive and he has a love for food like no other. And all this little things only makes her fall for him even more, despite Taehyung being the sweetheart he is around her.

But Jungkook is Adora's fiancee, and nothing can change that. Plus, Jungkook refuses to be associated with her, cant be associated with her, the maid. So maybe its best that she stick to her plan to leave after the wedding.

/////

"Hey, that engagement tea party you are having with Dora, you dont mind if I bring Y/N right?" Taehyung asks as they were having drinks together. Jungkook felt his heart boiled everytime Taehyung mentioned her name. Its bad enough that he can only see her during the short minutes she came in to serve them food, but she isnt even replying to any of his texts or answer his calls anymore. He misses her, although he knows its his fault for not saying anything when they came face to face.

"Sure. But wont she need to work or something? She works for Dora you know," Jungkook tries to act nonchalant. The whole reason why he wanted to host the party at Adora's house is because he hope to see Y/N, even if its only glimpses of her. The closer he is to the wedding, the more anxious he becomes.

"I'm sure Dora would give her an exception. She seems ro be very supportive of our relationship," Taehyung smiles.

"So... what are you two now? Like boyfriend girlfriend or something?" Jungkook acts line he doesnt care about the answer although his heart is screaming for Taehyung to just answer the damn question.

"Well...no," Taehyung answer and take a sip of his drink, as Jungkook felt relieved with the answer. "But I hope that would change, real soon," he smiles. "Like real soon. Like tea party soon?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think I want to ask her to be my girlfriend, at your engagement party," Taehyung grind and took out a box from his pocket, which opens up to a beautiful ring. "Its romantic right? Asking her to go steady with me at an engagement party?"

"A ring?" Jungkook eyed the ring carefully, in his heart he knows he would buy Y/N something much better than that if hes given a chance, "dont you think thats too much just to ask her to be your girlfriend? You are not asking her to marry you. Right?" Jungkook asks nervously. Taehyung laughs.

"Of course not. But being extra is what we are all about Kookie. I know she dont care about all this material shit, and thats why I love her, but I want her to know shes special. You k-"

"Wait, love her?" Jungkook sits up from his leaning position.

"Well..." Taehyung grins sheepishly. "I know its just a month Kookie... but I think I love her. Ive never met anyone like her,"

Jungkook tries to calmed down his heart, his hand shaking from wanting to punch Taehyung right in the face. The worst part is, he knows how that feels. Because he too, admitted to himself a long time ago, that he is head over heels in love with Y/N. But he ruined everything didnt he?

/////

I'll be right back okay?" Taehyung kisses her hands and smile before heading off to meet someone in a suit. Must be one of his business partner or something. Y/N nods and smile and stood at the most glamourous tea party she has ever attended. Well, the only tea party she ever attended. Who host tea parties nowadays anyway? But the fabulousness of the party is expected from Adora. Feeling awkward standing on her own, Y/N make her way to a more secluded part of the garden after observing that Taehyung will most probably take a long time. She sat down at the bench and closes her eyes, inhaling the fresh air, thinking about what her life have becomes. How did she managed to catch Kim Taehyung's eyes? He is not playing her is he?

"I can see that you are enjoying the lifestyle of rich and famous,"

Y/N eyes popped open to the voice and as expected, stood right in front of her, Jeon Jungkook with a cocky smile. She immediately stood up and start to walk away.

"Where are you going? Cant take the truth?" Jungkook mocked. What is he implying? That she is using Taehyung for his riches? Y/N turns around, glaring at her.

"What do you want Jungkook-ssi?"

"Jungkook-ssi?" Jungkook laughs. "Dont you think we have moved past that? Especially when my fiancee told me that you told her you met someone incredible at the party few months back. Im assuming thats me?"

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"So what? You are here to gloat? I was dumb back then. It was a mistake. You are obviously not who I thought you were. I thought you were different, but you are not," Y/N sighed. "Is that all?"

"So Taehyung is?" Jungkook look straight into her eyes, face serious.

"H-he-" his question took her by surprise.

"Is Taehyung different then Y/N? Is he everything you ever wanted then? Is he able to erase all your memories of me? Of us?" Jungkook took a step closer to her. Y/N felt her breathing starts to goes rapid and tries to calm down. Jungkook still has this effect on her.

"T-taehyung is a good man. Hes kind, handsome, nice, a gentleman, a romantic, he treats me good, he kno-"

"But do you love him?"

"W-what?" Y/N panics. How could Jungkook asks her that.

"Do you. Love. Him?" Jungkook repeated the question more seriously and took a step forward.

"I-I," she panics. "How can I answer that? Its only been a month since we met!"

"But you were in love with me within a month that we met," Jungkook closes the gap and held both her wrists, whispering close to her face.

"I was not!"

"Yeah.. you are," he smirks, face only inches from hers.

"N-no, I wasnt!"

"You are Y/N, in fact, you are still in love with me now," he smirks more.

"I am definitely not!" She tries to squirm as he gets closer.

"Yeah?" Jungkook smirks and closes the gap, his lips on her, tounge asking permission for more which Y/N immediately granted as she closes her eyes as his lips touched hers.

The kiss felt like it lasted forever when Jungkook finally pull away and look into her eyes, whispering. "I love you Y/N. As much as you love me, I love you more,"

Y/N felt tears prickled her eyes. She wanted to hear those words from him from the first day she realized her feelings. But now that she did... she knows they can never be.

"Please, choose me. Dont choose Tae. Choose me," Jungkook said softly, begging. Y/N closes her eyes, the tears she tried to blink back finally rolled out. "Please?"

"I-" she sobs. "I always have been choosing you Jungkook," she answered back, barely a whisper. "But will you... ever be able to choose me?"

Jungkook was surprised by her answer, eyes widening. Y/N lets out a half smile and released herself from his grip.

"Just... go away Jeon Jungkook. For real this time," she wipe her tears and ran off into the party before Jungkook can say anything.

/////

"Hey, you okay? Where did you go? I was looking all over for you," Taehyung greeted her, smiling. Y/N smile back and looks at him. Such the perfect guy. "Whats wrong? Anything wrong with my face?"

Y/N smile. "No Tae," she grazed his face. "You are perfect,"

"Yeah? Well, in that case, I have something to ask you," he smile and take her to a water fountain in the park, already decorated with fairy lights, her favorite. He sat her down and kneeled in front of her, hands holding both of hers. "Y/N? I know we just met. But I want you to know that Ive never felt this happy as this one month that I am with you. And at first... I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend today..."

Y/N's mouth gaped open, surprised.

"But..." Taehyung continues. "I realized that that wasnt enough for me. I know its too fast and we dont have to do it right away, you can take all the time you need, but Y/N please say yes. Please Y/N... will you... uh..." Taehyung looks utterly nervous as he smile and looks into her eyes."Will you do the honors of being my wife?"

/////

Taehyung smiles and fix his best friend's bowtie. Jungkook looks emotionlessly at his reflection in the mirror.

"Its your wedding day Kookie, why do you look like a zombie?" Taehyung asks and smile. Jungkook tries to flash a small smile but failed. He chase after Y/N that day at the party. It took him a few minutes to realized that he dont care what his parents will say, he dont care what society will say, he dont care what Adora or Taehyung will think of him. He dont care about money or status. He never did. It was all what his parents put inside his head. All he cares about right now is that Y/N knows that he chooses her. And he will keeps on choosing her. He wants to be with her. He knows he will be his happiest as long as Y/N is with him. But the few minutes he took is a few minutes too late. The moment he found her, all he can see is Taehyung kneeling down in front of her, smiling, the ring box opened and presented to her.. asking Y/N to marry him.

To marry him.

Jungkook immediately turns back and ran out from the party before she can answer. He dont need to hear it. He already knows that happiness will never ever again be his.

And now its one week later, he is in his wedding suit, about to get married to his childhood bestfriend, and the man who get the girl of his dreams, his best man.

"I just want to get today over and done with Tae," he sighed.

"Kookie," Taehyung turned serious. "You know... if you dont want to marry Dora, you can just tell your parents you know? Sure, they love their money and status but they love you more. Trust me," he smiles.

"Whats the point Tae?" Jungkook gave a small smile. Whats the point when Y/N is marrying you?

"The point is for you to be happy and do what you truly want Kookie,"

"Theres nothing else that I want Tae. Happiness? Happy?" He scoff. "That was never meant for me. And I deserved it. After all the hearts I break, I deserved this fate," Jungkook sighed. "Now just stop with your pep talk and lets get me married okay?" Jungkook look at his relfection one last time and start walking side by side with Taehyung down the aisle.

"Hey Kookie?" Taehyung leans in and whisper. "Its not too late you know," he grins. Jungkook looks at him, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/N. She said no," he smiles. "She said no to my proposal,"

////

"Stop whatever the hell you are doing!" Jungkook yells out at Y/N who is climbing up the bus.

"J-jungkook? What are you doing here?"

Jungkook rushed over and pull her down and signal the driver to drive away after slipping him some cash. "You are just going to leave? You are just goimg to bail on Adora's wedding?!"

"Jungkook," she sighed. "Im just the maid. I didnt think I was even invited. Afterall, I really dont want to be there,"

"Fine. But I'm sorry, I cant let you leave," Jungkook grab her bag and start walking to his car thats parked nearby, hoping Y/N will follow, which she did.

"Jungkook, stop! Give me back my bag! What is wrong with you?! What else do you want from me?!" Y/N is frustrated. He made her miss the bus now she have to spend more money to buy another ticket, something she dont have a lot of.

"What else I want from you?!" Jungkook frowns and turns around, his face serious. "I want you to stay! I dont want you to leave!"

"Why?!" Y/N screamed. "Isnt this what you want? For a maid to no longer bothers you and your friends? Just give me back my bag and leave me alone!"

"You dont know what I want Y/N..." he growls.

"Fine! Then what the hell do you want?!" Y/N never cursed but shes done being nice.

"I want you to marry me,"

"See? You only care about yourself you selfish jerk! Yo- wait, what?" Y/N's eyes widen, finally realizing what he said. Jungkook grins.

"Done yelling at your future husband?" He laughs and closes the gap between them. "I love you Y/N. I made a mistake. A real stupid mistake. And I realized that a little too late. You make the richest man I could ever be, and without you, I am nothing. I am the saddest, poorest man ever lived. But Y/N, marry me and let me spend the rest of our lives making it up to you, making you the happiest woman alive, just as happy as you made me. Please?" He showed her his innocent doe eyes, making Y/N laugh through her tears.

"I-is this for real?"

"Its as real as it can get baby. You dont have to forgive me baby. But please, just marry me,"

"Adora?"

"Oh, lets just say, she totally approved of us," Jungkook winks. "So... is that a yes?"

"Hmmm... what was the question again?"

Jungkook laughs and kneels down, taking out a box from his pocket that housed the biggest and most beautiful diamond Y/N has ever seen.

"L/N Y/N, will you marry me? Please?" Jungkook smile. And in the middle of a deserted bus stop, Y/N said the one word that will change her life forever.

"Yes,"

/////

Jungkook didnt even remember walking down to the end of the aisle. He didnt even remember seeing Adora walked down the aisle. After Taehyung's confession, that is all he can think about.

"Go,"

"Huh?"

"Go Kookie. Y/N is leaving today. Go find her. Now," she smiles.

"But Dora... what about-"

"Us?" Adora laughs. "Kookie, we will always be bestfriends. You know that. And how do you expect to spend the rest of your life with me when we cant even agree on what to have for dinner? Afterall, our families will still be the biggest empire, married to each other or not. Go get her Kookie, I'll handle our parents,"

"H-how about you?" Jungkook's brows furrowed.

"Lets just say," she looks behind him at Taehyung whos smiling back at her and smile, "the one month I spent with Tae to plan your happy ending with Y/N might lead to my own happy ending with my dream guy too," she winks.

[hookedontaronfics]

First Contact series - Part 8

Title: First Contact - Part 8 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Mild smut A/N: Vacationing with Taron in Dubrovnik feels like just a dream for Jess. But when Taron starts sharing real feelings, will Jess be able to reciprocate? This chapter contains adult themes, so turn back now if you’re not prepared to read it. You’ve been warned! Enjoy! x

Welcome to Dubrovnik, love.

It wasn’t just what Taron said that thrilled me, it was the way he said it too. When his voice dropped low, there was something incredibly sexy about it, and I wasn’t immune to the effect it had on people. I couldn’t help but squeal to myself a bit while Taron hugged me cutely from behind, very happy to be there with me. I don’t think I was ever going to get over that fact, that I was the reason for the smile on his face now.

As much as I wanted to admire both the view in front of me and the one behind me, my stomach growled rather loudly and I knew I needed to eat soon or I’d start feeling faint. Taron, of course, heard the noises and chuckled.

“Do we need to get you something to eat?” 

“I’m positively starving. All I’ve had so far today has been a protein bar, a handful of airline pretzels and coffee,” I said, thinking about it for a moment. “Yep, that’s it.”

“What, that’s hardly enough, love,” Taron said, looking concerned for a moment.

“Nerves have been bad, but I’m here now so I think I can eat!” I grinned. “What about you, aren’t you hungry too?” I asked, turning around in his arms and poking his stomach, which in all actuality was quite firm.

“I am always up for food, no question,” Taron smirked lightly.

“Somehow that surprises me!” I laughed, as we finally went back inside the suite. I poked about a bit more, checking out the incredibly luxurious bathroom as well. Oh, it definitely had a jacuzzi tub in it, and I had to keep my thoughts from straying somewhere they shouldn’t.

“My diet is absolute crap, much to my agent and everyone else’s disappointment,” Taron giggled. “And when I don’t have to be fit, I’m usually not.”

“Well I will take you any way you are,” I grinned, wrapping my arms around him and reaching up to steal a kiss or three. “So where are you taking me?” I grinned.

Taron had been scrolling through his phone, I presume to find an appetizing place to eat, and raised his eyebrow at me cutely. “I think we’ll go to Azure first. I had them once and the food was amazing,” he grinned.

“Anything, at this point, sounds amazing,” I laughed.

“This place is on the edge of the Old Town, so we can meander through that once we’re done eating. I think you’ll love it,” Taron said, cutely excited as we left our luggage behind in the room and went out to eat and explore.

The weather could not have been more perfect. It was a little warm, sure, but with the constant breeze off the coast it seemed bearable, and I enjoyed the feel of the sun on my skin. We ended up getting an Uber to drop us off at the Old City gates and walked the rest of the way in to the restaurant so I could gape in awe at the gorgeous place again.

“I can’t believe you spent weeks filming here, that must have felt so lucky. It’s incredible,” I said enthusiastically, swinging Taron’s hand in mine between us as we walked. We made it to the restaurant, a mix of Asian fusion and Mediterranean influences, and it was difficult to choose. I wanted to try so many things. We ended up sharing the wasabi salmon pouches and I ordered the meatballs in coconut curry sauce, but of course I had to steal bites of Taron’s swordfish in black curry sauce. It was all delicious, and we left the restaurant feeling absolutely stuffed.

We walked about the old town streets, poking in shops and stalls tucked into alleys, just enjoying being leisurely together until jet lag started to catch up to us both. “Ready to head back to the hotel and just relax?” Taron asked me sweetly, noticing my energy flagging.

“I think that’d be a good idea, much as I’d love to keep walking,” I smiled.

“We’ll feel so much more refreshed tomorrow, I’m sure. But being lazy right now sounds like a good plan,” he grinned. We returned to our hotel and cuddled up on the couch together, surfing through the English channels on the telly to find something to watch. I must have dozed off because the sun was low in the sky when I came to, nestled against Taron’s chest. He stirred slightly when he felt me sit up and cracked his eyes open. “Get some rest?” he asked me gently, and I nodded, yawning a bit and having a stretch.

“Hopefully you weren’t trapped for too long,” I smiled as he ruffled my hair cutely.

“I dozed myself,” he grinned. “But I am a bit hungry again,” he laughed, and I couldn’t help smiling over that. Eating and sleeping and not doing much else sounded like the perfect kind of vacation to me. We ended up walking just down the street to Magellan, sharing sweetbread and enjoying our pasta courses and some wine. Either I was a total lightweight, or Croatia’s wines were strong, because I was definitely feeling it by the time we paid our tab and left.

“We should go down to the water!” I suggested with a giggle, Taron putting his arm around my shoulders to keep me steady as I had been weaving a bit on the sidewalk.

“We can do that,” Taron replied with an amused grin. We went down to the pebble beach access from the hotel’s lift, greeted by the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore. The beach was already cast in shadows at that point but it helped ease the heat of the day and we walked along the shoreline in contented peace, passing a few other couples but no one bothering us at all. We truly are just like any other couple, I thought, giggling to myself. 

“This feels so perfect,” I said sweetly, leaning my head against Taron’s shoulder as we stood gazing out at the waves. “I can’t believe you brought me here, that I’m with you, that this feels so much better than I knew it could be to be with someone.”

“You ought to start believing it, Jess,” he said, tipping my chin up to look him in the eyes, before caressing my cheeks gently. “I find it hard to believe that no one ever tried to do these things for you. I just don’t find it difficult to treat a woman the way she deserves to be treated.”

“I think it’s hard to know what you deserve when you’ve been treated like an unwanted accident your entire life,” I replied, maybe more harshly than I had meant, but Taron didn’t seem phased by my tone. If anything, he looked heartbroken for me. “And when you grow up not knowing what you deserve, not knowing that love should be something inherent and not earned, you end up with wildly bad taste in men,” I rambled on.

“Well I’m here to show you what you deserve, Jess,” Taron said slowly. “All of this,” he replied, sweeping his arm outward, “and so much more. You deserve someone who truly sees you, who doesn’t judge you for your struggles, who knows how precious you are.” I teared up slightly at that, unable to control it because it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. He brushed the tears off my cheeks and hugged me to him tightly; I felt at once safe and comforted in his arms. “You need to heal, from everything you’ve been through that has torn you down. I promise to help in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Taron,” I sniffled slightly, trying not to full-on cry.

“You don’t need to thank me for doing what someone else should have done a long time ago. Knowing what I know now, I’m incredibly lucky that you let me in at all,” he said gently, pulling back to gaze at me again, brushing my wind-blown hair out of my face. I noticed that his eyes were a bit red and watery too. “You deserve to be loved for every fibre of your being, Jess. I intend to do that if you let me.”

I was left a bit speechless, unsure what to say, or how to say it, and I even had to look away from the intensity of his gaze, feeling stripped down to my soul by those pale green eyes of his. “I would give every last dime in the world if I could be with you. None of this means anything to me without you now, Jess,” he spoke, with a raw honesty that still shook me. They weren’t just pretty words you’d find in a romance novel; they were real and overwhelming and deeply felt coming from Taron.

He seemed to understand that I needed some time to mull over these words of his, and we stood there quietly by the sea as I did my best to comprehend how he felt about me and what it all meant moving forward. I think the hardest part for me was that we hadn’t been together all that long; I didn’t feel that I had earned this kind of devotion on his part. But I also knew he wasn’t telling me half-truths or spinning fictions, that there was nothing about Taron that wasn’t genuine. Even more so, we had yet to be really intimate and I was a bit perplexed that someone could want me for more than just the pleasures of the flesh. He had gotten to know more of me than any man had taken the time to do and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

We eventually returned to our room when we both got too cold, and completely knackered from the flights and emotions we ended up just getting ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom and then crawling into our separate beds. I’m not going to lie, it felt a bit odd to be more “roommates” than lovers in our sleeping arrangements, but to push things wouldn’t be wise for me. The last thing Taron needed was me freaking out unnecessarily because I hadn’t been that close to anyone since Kevin. Even thinking his name made my skin crawl, but then Taron cut into my thoughts with his adorable “sweet dreams, love,” before turning out his bedside light.

I laid awake for a bit, tossing and turning despite my exhaustion, long after I had heard Taron’s breathing slow and settle into sleep. I realized that even this much, being in the same room as him, my eyes tracing his sleeping form in the dark, was a new step for me. A step in the right direction, I reminded myself. I eventually let myself drift off to sleep, hoping for a fun day tomorrow.

****

The sun crawling slowly across the floor through the shades woke me in the morning. I squinted over at the clock and realized it was already 11 a.m. and Taron was still sound asleep. I couldn’t help but think he looked completely adorable in that vulnerable state, appreciating the sweetness of his sleeping expression. Sometimes the truest self could be viewed when someone was off in dreamland, escaping the pretense and performance of waking life. I left him to snooze a little longer as I shut myself in the bathroom, taking a good half-hour to shower and let the steam and luxurious soaps the hotel provided wake me up. I had to admit that I was feeling a lot more refreshed as I combed through my wet hair. A simple knock on the bathroom door startled me and I had to laugh at myself. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” I grinned as I pulled the door open, my eyes taking in Taron’s bedhead and sleepy grin.

“Morning love,” he smirked, stealing a kiss from me and apologizing for his morning breath. I hadn’t even noticed. “Ready for more adventures today?” he asked cutely, and I nodded happily at that.

“Of course! But breakfast first,” I grinned, making him just chuckle. 

“You know it,” he said with a wink. We got ourselves ready for the day, which didn’t require much. We both donned shorts and t-shirts and walking shoes, and I was excited for our plans to walk the city walls and see Dubrovnik from that high up. We enjoyed a quick bite at the hotel’s rather exquisite breakfast buffet before heading out, hand-in-hand, the sun already quite warm.

We ambled our way into town and eventually made our way to an access point for the city walls. After a little debate, we decided to join one of the guided tours, blending in quite well with a group of other tourists. We listened in on the history of the place, appreciating the views of the seas, the hidden narrow streets and groaning inwardly every time we had more stairs to climb. All in all, it was an enjoyable couple of hours, if a bit sweaty, and Taron seemed glad to get the chance to do it, as he’d had no time before when he was filming. We ended up just grabbing some cheeses, grissini and olives from a market stall to take back with us to our room, sitting on our balcony and snacking after having such a late breakfast, letting our poor legs rest.

With it being such a sunny and hot day, we decided the next best course of action would be to enjoy the beach fully before we got hungry for dinner. While Taron was changing into his swim trunks, I deliberated over which swimsuit I should wear, finally deciding to just go with the bright teal and aqua bikini. Of course I was nervous about my body in it as I took my turn and changed, but I also just wanted to enjoy the beach and the sun on my skin and who else was here to judge me? Certainly not Taron, judging by the look on his face when I emerged from the bathroom. Of course he’d already seen me in a swimsuit, but this one didn’t provide as much coverage, and even showed a little bit of my scar.

“You look amazing,” Taron managed, after picking his jaw up off the floor. Figuratively, of course.

“I could say the same about you,” I grinned, scoping out his bare biceps in the tanktop he had on over his swimmers. “But are we going to stand here staring at each other until the sun goes down or get out there?” I teased.

“You’ve got a point,” he just grinned, slinging our beach bag with our towels and sunscreen and room key over his shoulder. I had pulled on a loose muslin overshirt and we flip-flopped our way down to the beachfront, paying for the chair rentals since the beach was a bit rocky. We set our stuff out and when Taron pulled his tank off I stared, unashamedly so. This is my boyfriend, I reminded myself happily. He handed me the sunscreen bottle and turned around expectantly. Yes please, I thought to myself, spreading the lotion over his back carefully, making sure to cover every bit so he wouldn’t get burned, never getting over the feeling of my fingers gliding over his skin. He did the same for me and once we were lotioned up, we laid out on the chairs, letting the sun bake us.

When we both got too hot, we ran out into the water together, Taron splashing me while I shrieked and tried to get away. I eventually ended up dunking him in the water, making him laugh and sputter when he came back up for air. “You’ll pay for that!” he smirked, pulling me to him and kissing me hungrily as we bobbed in the water together up to our necks. I could feel his hands skimming over the skin of my waist under the water, and I shivered slightly. I returned those kisses in kind, even wrapping my legs around him so I wouldn’t drift away, the action making him groan slightly against my mouth. But we were in public, and even if no one was paying us any mind, the last thing we needed to do was give them a show, so we eventually broke apart, breathless and happy.

We eventually made it back to our lounge chairs, lazing about in the sun and perfectly content. I could not have possibly asked for a better vacation, and the truth was that I hadn’t even asked for this at all. The specialness of this gift was not lost on me, and Taron didn’t expect anything from me either. I was still thinking over his words from the night before, wondering just how deeply I could return the feelings. Of course I had fallen for him; I’m pretty sure I felt like I had long before I’d met him in the Tesco. But that was fan adoration, based on an image he projected in his interviews and video bits. And while it was pretty close to the person he actually was away from the cameras, I found him to be even more humble, low-key and genuinely caring in person. But love, well, that was a tricky thing. I thought I had loved someone once, and that man had broken me. Trusting someone enough to love again felt like standing at the edge of a crevasse, needing to make the jump to the other side but all I could do was stare down.

I hadn’t realized I was frowning in thought until Taron leaned over and placed his hand on mine. “Everything alright?” he asked, and I hurriedly rearranged my expression.

“Of course. Just thinking, probably about work,” I lied, and felt bad for that lie. But how to tell him how scared I was? I just felt at a loss.

“None of that here,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched me carefully. Feeling exposed, I finally suggested we go get dinner. The sun was heading toward the horizon anyway, and Taron didn’t argue. We changed and showered quickly, once again taking turns, and I donned a pretty dress and a light cardigan over it. Taron had chosen a rather fancy place for dinner, where we could sit outside and watch the stars twinkle into existence over our nightcaps. Our conversation flowed easily and I couldn’t help but be a bit mesmerized by the shadows drawn over his face by the flickering candlelight as the day sunk into early night.

We retired for the evening, getting ready for bed and cuddling on the couch as the telly droned on. Taron had drifted off and I had to shake him awake long enough to convince him to move to his bed, before crawling into my own and pulling the covers up around me, feeling a peculiar sense of loneliness seep through me that I couldn’t understand. I slid headlong into sleep, but my dreams were troubled and I guess I must have screamed out loud at some point because Taron woke me up out of the nightmare.

It took me a long, disorienting minute to remember where I even was, and I turned and hid my face against Taron as I sobbed slightly, images of Kevin still burned in my mind.

“It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” Taron soothed, repeating it over and over and patting my hair and running his hands gently over my arms, holding me and rocking me gently and giving me the space I needed to calm down. I was still shaking after I’d cried myself out, and he seemed reluctant to let me go. “Do you need to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure that will help me any,” I said, my lips trembling.

“Please tell me what I can do to help,” he pleaded with me in the dark.

“Just stay,” I whispered, desperately not wanting to be alone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, his strong arms enveloping me as he placed a couple of kisses protectively on my forehead. Once I’d calmed down enough to sleep again, he rearranged our positions so he could cuddle me better and we could both sleep, and I felt much better now that we were both in the same bed, but hardly able to hold the significance of that in my mind. All I knew was that Taron made me feel safe from my demons, even if they only existed in my head. Exhausted and emotionally spent, I finally dropped off to sleep, my face buried in his comforting chest, lulled by the sound of his beating heart.

****

The next few days of vacation flew by, as they were wont to do. We explored more of the city, ate plenty more delicious food, and spent hours lounging by the pool or the sea. We’d taken in the views from the top of Srd, biked around Mljet National Park and escaped the midday heat in Dubrovnik’s museums. My favorite thing we did by far had been drinking cocktails and watching the sun set over the water at the ever-popular Buza Bar.

We also spent a lot of time in each other’s arms, kissing and touching and exploring each other’s bodies, but still I hesitated to give myself completely over to him, and he never asked for more than I was willing to give. 

On our second to last evening, I was talking to Taron about something, I don’t even remember what now, but I was clearly distracted as I was trying to pull a sweater out of my suitcase. A chill had crept into the air and we were going to take a moonlit walk on the beach together. My sweater had snagged on something and I yanked it rather hard, hoping that would free it, and out toppled the expensive lingerie Jules had bought for me - and that I had completely forgotten about. The lacy fabric pooled at my feet on the floor as Taron’s eyes went wide.

“What’s this, love?” he smirked, picking up the sheer teddy and holding it out for me.

“Oh god,” I said, my face flushing a deep red as I snatched it out of his hands. “N-nothing,” I stammered.

“Forget about the sweater. I want to see you in this,” he said, his eyes growing a bit dark and my heart nearly racing out of my chest. Damn it all to hell, Jules, I thought. “Please, love?” Taron asked, taking my hands in his and kissing my knuckles, staring up at me through his lashes. That look always undid my resolve a little, and he knew it too.

“Oh what the hell,” I huffed, grabbing the teddy and its matching panties and stalking off to the bathroom, not sure what I was even doing other than getting it over with. I had kept him wanting long enough, hadn’t I? I thought as I dropped my clothes to the floor and let the slinky material slide over my skin. Once I was fully dressed in it, I dared to peek at myself in the mirror; the lingerie left very little to the imagination. I’d already been shirtless in front of him, but this felt like something more. Still, the way the lace ended just under my butt cheeks seemed to accentuate their curves, and the built-in cups gave me cleavage I didn’t usually have. I let my hair out of its elastic confinement and let my waves fall down to my shoulders and took a deep breath, resolving my courage.

I opened the door and Taron’s back was to me as he stared out the glass balcony doors, but he turned around when I took a few steps into the room and audibly gasped. The way the moonlight slanted across his face sent shivers running down my spine as we stared across the space of the room at each other. Then, Taron was crossing the floor and pulling me into his arms, kissing me in a way he hadn’t before, heated and needy. And I did my best to open myself to that mutual want as his kisses traveled along my jawline, down my neck, across my shoulder blades.

Of course I wanted him; I didn’t live in a bubble separate from my own desires. I just needed to push beyond my fears. Almost as if reading my mind, Taron spoke up. “Please tell me to stop if you need me to. I respect you, I don’t want to push you anywhere you don’t want to be. But I need you,” he fairly whispered, his voice cracking a bit on that last sentence, and something about the way he said it broke through whatever was holding me back. 

Because it was more than just lust that drove us to the bed, although there was plenty of that as I hurriedly pulled his shirt off and unbuckled his belt, tossing both aside. There was a deeper sense of intimacy blossoming between us as we pushed his pants off him and he settled his weight over me, pressing me down into the bed, his fingers and lips trailing over my heated skin.

“This okay?” he murmured, his lips brushing over my stomach as I felt my core begin to throb in need. I hadn’t felt this turned on in so long, it almost truly made me want to cry. I was being awakened to feelings I long thought were dead, things I thought no one could ever make me feel again.

“Better than okay,” I moaned softly, remembering to breathe again as Taron rooted in the bedside drawer for a condom he must have stashed there in hopes. “I need you too,” I gasped softly as he hooked his fingers in the sides of my panties and slid them down my legs, exposing all of me to him.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes aware from me, leaning over and capturing my lips with his kisses again even as he worked his own boxers off. I heard the crackle of the condom wrapper and then he was there, between my legs, his erection pressing tantalizingly against my inner thigh as he nipped at my lower lip slightly.

“Ready for me?” he asked as I got sort of lost in the depth of his lustful gaze. I nodded, letting him nudge my legs open just a little bit more with his knees as he lined his hips up with mine. I closed my eyes and ran my hands through his hair, trying to ground myself as I felt him slowly, gently enter me. The groan that rumbled through his body did more to erase my worries than anything else to that point. Seeing his careful reserve unravel at the feeling as he joined our bodies together unhinged me from my fears. I didn’t feel used, or dirty, or discarded; this was raw and real and powerful, and I was very much a part of what was happening here. This was what sex was meant to be all along.

He gazed at me so adoringly it made my heart ache with the weight of it. He let out his breath, tickling my face and making me giggle slightly as he waited for me to adjust to him; it had, admittedly, been years.

“Okay,” I whispered softly when I couldn’t take his stillness any longer. He obliged by drawing out and pushing his way back in agonizingly slowly, amplifying the pleasure that shot straight through me. I cried out, shocking myself even, the sparks running through me as he picked up his pace, our groans mingling together in the otherwise quiet of the room. I’m pretty sure I left red marks in his skin where I dug my fingertips into his shoulders, gripping him tightly as I lifted my own hips to meet his, finding a rhythm with him that had us both spiraling fast toward a climax.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned out, coming around him hard, my orgasm slamming into me and taking my breath away completely. I’m pretty sure I left the earth for a few minutes, because when I came aware again Taron was already collapsed on top of me, panting and sweaty and spent. It struck me suddenly that I had never actually orgasmed before, and I realized all my years of feeling ashamed over that fact were for nothing. I’d gotten close a couple of times with other boyfriends, or my own hand, but never tipped the edge and only been left with frustration. I’d simply never found someone invested in my own pleasure the way Taron was.

“Good for you?” he asked against my skin, leaving tiny kisses on my chest as we both tried to calm down again.

“You’ve just changed everything, Taron,” I replied softly.

“Yeah?” he said, with a boyishly handsome grin. I trailed my fingers through the sweaty hair on his chest, amazed to be with him this way.

“I can’t put it into words exactly, but I know and feel things now that I couldn’t have understood before,” I tried to explain. “You’re right, I do need to heal, and being with you like this has already helped me overcome so much I was frightened of or ashamed of before. I’ve been afraid of moving forward, afraid of taking risks, afraid of falling for someone again. But here I am, falling for you,” I rambled a bit, feeling emboldened to actually be vulnerable in front of him for once.

“I’m so grateful for that, you know,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face gently. “I know how hard it is to trust again after it’s been dashed. But I won’t ever let you hit the ground. I want you to fall so hard it’s endless, because I’ll always be here for you when you need me.” He kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, even brushing his lips over my eyelids when I closed them, before finally kissing me fully on the lips, making me tremble with the full intimacy of the moment. I couldn’t possibly have known in the Tesco, or in the karaoke bar, or at our table read, that all of these moments would have built to this. But somehow it had, and I was blown away by how much Taron had come to mean to me. He supported me, cared about me, protected me and maybe even could love me.

“Stay right here, I’ll be back,” he said, making me whimper when he finally pulled out of me. He discarded the condom and went to grab a washcloth and cleaned us both up, something no one else had ever taken the time to do. We really hadn’t messed the sheets up so we didn’t have to change those, but I had to pee really badly so I finally excused myself to the bathroom to do that, making Taron chuckle slightly. I also brushed my teeth quickly and swallowed my birth control pill; I was on the pill because my periods sucked but now I had extra reason to not forget it. I returned to the room, pulling on more comfortable pajamas and noticing Taron had put his boxers back on as he was lounging on the bed, just waiting for me to come back to him, and I was happy to do so.

We laid down face-to-face on the pillows, our foreheads touching and just sweetly gazing at each other, not needing words any longer. My body felt completely sated, my mind finally at peace. When I drifted off to sleep I couldn’t have been happier, knowing I was truly, deeply cared for.

Vacationing in Dubrovnik with Taron was a dream, but will reality catch up to Jess? Find out in Part 9!

[makefrancehappen-blog]

The most romantic non-date

June 25 2019, retrospective

There’s a lot of things I want to remember about my day with Sèbastien. He was older than I expected, it turned out he was 46. And he was in incredible shape, much better than me, the kind of toned body from a person who actually uses their body every day, not at the gym but just through living life. He was so, so tan. Everybody was in the south. By the time I left, I was almost one of them. The hat was funny, it was one of those flat brimmed DC caps that gave him such a youthful touch and would be cliché or look dirt baggy on a younger guy. I remember thinking that his face seemed super French with his bone structure and mouth especially, but now I can’t even paint a mental picture of him. I remember a little greyness but I can’t remember if it was in his hair or whether I might have noticed it in a beard, or whether he even had one. I regret not looking at his hands. 

As he puttered around on the boat, getting us where we needed to go, he would sing and hum softly to himself. It absolutely caught me by surprise, almost every time. I still forget that he did that and then I remember all over again and think it’s a wonderful trait for a person to have. The one thing he did that I didn’t like was pull a starfish out of the water to show me... “she” was beautiful but I felt so uncomfortable knowing she was wrenched from her perch, and I just wanted him to put her back. In that moment though, there was a youthful and boyish fascination. He wanted me to see her little suction cups, and explain that her short legs were probably the result of an attack by birds. I like the enthusiasm, even though I already know or guessed most of these things.

Our first stop was the beach of Port Cros, where there’s a small dock to tie up. As he secured the boat he would murmur in French, English, or a combination. Several times I heard the word, “Alors,” not knowing what it meant. I asked, but he was confused, he didn’t know what word I was asking about. Then again he said it. “Aha!” I pointed at his face (bad manners). “There it is again!” “Which?” “The last one. Alore?” “Ahhh, Alors.” “Yeah that, what’s it mean?” Bafflement in attempting to explain. “Is it like how we use “okay” in English? It kind of fills lots of gaps?” Yes, kind of. 

From there we snorkeled and eventually went ashore because the waters were still pretty cold except for in the shallows. On shore we went without shoes, and he checked with me twice to make sure that I was sure I was comfortable (I was). I said I prefer living life barefoot, which is obviously not possible in the city. He said he kicks off his shoes in March and doesn’t put them back on until September, but that a few weeks ago he’d been touring with a German couple who insisted they didn’t need shoes, only to have to cut the hike short because of their sensitive feet. He took me to the top of a lookout point by an abandoned building that I think had a green door. Made a joke about it being a nice little house if you could fix it up. On the way back down I stopped on the trail to take a deep breath and he turned around, mistaking my inhale for a gasp. I was just taking in the piney, jasmine, mineral and dusty scent of the island that smelled so much like summer. On the walk back to the dock we stopped to people watch a minute at the beach, and for some reason on the dock I wound up explaining that next year I would be returning to go to Bordeaux for my sister’s wedding (”No, she’s not French, it’s just that you have a destination wedding when you want to be polite and invite people but you don’t want them to accept or actually come.” “That seems like a good solution.”) Had a small snack on the boat. I don’t remember in what order or when we got to talking, but the similarities were so striking - at least to me:

- On Mexican cenotes, both having been. His experience was to stop and listen. “What did you hear?” “My heart.” There was a thoughtfulness and a pause, there seemed to be more that couldn’t be expressed in English.

- On liveaboarding, both having done. He crossed the Atlantic in 11 days, 5 days of prep, on a catamaran with 3 or 4 friends, going from Africa to Brazil. God if that isn’t just the sexiest thing ever. I wonder if that was before the kids.

- On camping. Every year at the peak of tourist season in August he “disappears into the mountains” for a week. He mentions the calanques to me, and asserts that I know them, which I think is funny or flattering maybe that he assumes I know.

- On environmentalism. He tries to avoid plastic and brings his reusable bags to the weekly market, stepping into a grocery store only once or twice a month. Trying to teach environmentalism to his 3 kids. 

- On adventure. “Would you ever live on a boat and sail around the Mediterranean?” Absolutely. But there’s the kids to consider (2 teens, 1 around 9) and the several small businesses. (He seems to be a “guy I know” kind of guy). But someday. 

Maybe that’s when he asked my age, which surprised me mildly. I think that was when he mentioned I was young enough still to have those adventures. I regret noting out loud how he had his first kid when he was my age, because it put a space between us that I don’t think needed to be there.

There’s a word he used, a great one. I can’t remember what it was but it floored me that a non-native speaker knew it. I told him this, that I know many English speakers who don’t even know that word. He either didn't understand or didn’t have a response. I wish I could remember the word.

It’s funny to me that he thinks Italy’s food is better than France’s, on account of it being simple ingredients of the highest quality. That’s what I thought France did so well. His expression towards the ocean seems wistful, longing for the larger and wilder waves. 

I tell him about Arizona when he mentions the vast wildernesses of America being so alluring. I could live there if it weren’t so far from the sea, and he seems to nod agreement. 

I have a rant about rich people, their yachts, and the weird and annoying things they do with their money. I think he’s probably just humoring me or being polite and I mention that my friends tell me I talk about depressing things, which makes him laugh. I grimace and apologize. 

At a little cove where we stop again to snorkel, I wander ashore to look at the schist folds more closely and then I notice plastic, and the more I look the more of it I see. I already found a plastic bag and tucked it into my bikini side, to dispose of after swimming. I start collecting bits of plastic, rubber wine corks, and mostly styrofoam. When I turn around, Sèbastien had paddle boarded over and produced a half torn garbage bag from the ground and was filling it, so we worked silently, picking up pieces until the bag was full. I noticed moments before he said aloud that the more pieces we picked the smaller the remaining ones got. I made a comment about micro plastics. It was depressing, realizing in a moment of pause that there was still so much rubbish around. That’s when he unwittingly gifted me the mantra I didn’t know I needed: 

“Alors. It’s not everything, but it’s important.” It washes over me like cold water, jarring and refreshing all at once. I never believed in love at first sight until this day. 

There’s a seagull back by the boat that’s cautiously optimistic about our picnic lunch. Sèbastien tries to lure it with various treats (it doesn’t care for watermelon). Is it true that we both think these common birds are beautiful, or is he just being agreeable so I have a good tour experience? 

After about 5 hours in the sun I’m getting drowsy and the boat motion is lulling me to sleep as I nod off while he’s driving, and he offers me a towel for my head. I get the impression that this is someone used to caring for other people, and realize that’s what I need.

I need to be able to relax, but to relax I need to trust that somebody else has their hands on the wheel. And I could cry with relief at this realization and with frustration that the person who gave it to me is probably completely unattainable. 

Coming into the final harbor we talk about the Levant and he admits he never spends any time there but he isn’t sure why, other than that the kids are emphatic about not wanting to go. I laugh because of course that makes perfect sense. 

I want to see him again. The kids are going to NYC next week with their mother, but he’s never been. I say I have an AirBnB and he’s welcome to stay if he ever decides to go, and that I hope he does. It’s 5pm and it feels abrupt when he says he should leave. I’m left wondering if I came on too strong or made him uncomfortable with the overture of invitation. Then I wonder too if maybe I didn’t come on strongly enough. 

It’s a cruel coincidence that the house I stay at in Hyères is steps away from the one he rents out to vacationers. It’s even crueler that the day after our day I see the same yellow boat on the dock and have to convince myself it’s not his. I could have talked to him for many, many more hours than we had. I so want to see him again and have no idea if this is me being limerent again or whether there was some mutual connection. 

When’s the last time I had so much in common with a person? It feels like never. But maybe I am living in the wrong places, maybe for him it’s common and the people around here are often outdoorsy, adventurous environmentalists. This might be the (possibly misleading) lynchpin that convinces me to make the move.

3 days later I ask if he has a website for the environmentalist friend who runs the NGO and a week after that there’s still no response. I don’t have any recourse except to chalk it up to one-sided attraction, which makes me deeply sad and I’m not ready to let it go yet.

[elegiesforshiva]

Ghosts XVI: Earthbound

Masterpost

Previous | Next

Sakura feels terribly cumbersome coming to.  There’s light behind her eyelids, bright and repugnant and far too much for a porous mind.   Some part of her notices that her headache is gone.

“Sakura-chan?”

“Naruto?” Sakura asks with a throat that feels sanded stiff and bare.  She hears the harsh friction of a chair scraping the floor and her eyes squint open to see long strands of blonde hair.  

And then Sakura remembers.

Ino…

Her vision clears enough just to meet the dangerous, amber iris of her shishou.  Tsunade looks calm. The kind of calm that is barely holding back an explosion.  

Sakura tries to shift away, or at least break the eye contact.   She can’t quite manage it though.  

“You’re awake,” Tsunade says, simple and flat.

The Godaime leans over and the first thing Sakura’s keenly notices is the heavy purpling beneath her amber, bloodshot eyes.  She’s fishing for something in her pocket, then she grasps Sakura’s chin with more tenderness than Sakura expects from a steel-plated face. Tsunade brings a penlight to Sakura’s head, flashes a painful beam from one of her eyes to the other.

“Can you tell me your name?” Tsunade asks.  Sakura gets a whiff of alcohol on her breath.

“Sakura,” she says, and her voice comes out in an awful rasp that she doesn’t recognize.  Suddenly she’s wondering if she actually is still Sakura.

“Surname?”  Tsunade asks.

“Haruno.” Her voice sounds a little better this time.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sakura can see Naruto, Sai, and Hinata sitting quietly by the side.  Naruto looks like he wants to say something—they all do—but Naruto is nearly bursting out of his chair.  He stays quiet though.  And Sakura imagines he must have been handed a pretty savage threat to look at her like that and still stay put for her examination.

“Can you sit up for me?”  Tsunade asks, and Sakura nods stiff before commanding her body to respond.  It’s delayed, and a little too forced for her liking, but she figures it’s the dehydration.  

Tsunade probably figures this too, studying her movements, before nodding in approval.  She has Sakura follow an exaggerated motion of her finger with her eyes, and perform a simple stretch.  

“Good.  Any pain?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me when your birthday is?”

“March twenty-eighth.”

“Who’s the current Hokage?”

“Kakashi Hatake—my old sensei.”

“Good.  And your occupation?”

“I’m a shinobi.  And a medic.  I work at this hospital.”

“Show me.  Channel chakra into your hand for me.”

Sakura does as she’s told, pushing her life energy into her palm with accuracy and precision that has always come second nature.  Tsunade watches with a meticulous eye before nodding again.  Sakura sets her hand down, and looks into the gooey warmth of Tsunade’s honey pupils. It’s a strange, unsettling contrast with the rest of her features.

“Who am I?”

“Tsunade Senju,” Sakura responds, and there’s a waver in her voice, glaring and unwanted, “my shishou.”

“Great,” Tsunade says, a cynical chipper slipping in.  “Now that we’ve ruled out brain damage as either the cause or repercussions of this absolute catastrophe,” Her voice grows colder, grained and unforgiving.  “Why are you here, Sakura?”

It puts Sakura on edge, and she’s folding into herself without really meaning to.  She doesn’t know what to say.  She wasn’t even supposed to wake up.  “I don’t know.”

“Should I refresh your memory?” Tsunade asks, and this time Sakura does look away.  “Tell me if this sounds familiar:  The Uchiha came carrying you this morning with a dislocated shoulder, chakra depleted, covered in your vomit, screaming like a hysterical child that you had overdosed.”  

It does refresh her memory, and Sakura remembers Sasuke’s face.  His features were blank, almost battle-driven in that way when his one-track mind has latched onto an objective and everything else was droned out in the tunnel vision.  

She remembers his eyes, beautiful and dangerous, up close and way too personal.  She remembers the way his name tasted in her mouth before she threw it up.

“Then he promptly passed out and gave me two more patients in need of emergency care.”   Tsunade pauses.  “Since obviously, our all-nighter with Ino wasn’t enough.”

Naruto begins.  “Baa—“

Tsunade cuts him off with a motion of her hand.  “I’m not done.”  

Sakura focuses on a little lock sitting in the center of the window panel.  It’s white, like everything in the hospital.  It’s freezing inside, but Sakura thinks it might be warmer out.  Her head is a mad scramble.  

“Well?” Tsunade says, impatient and irate.  “I’m waiting.”

“I had a headache,” Sakura says.  There’s tears in her voice.

“I’m drunk, not stupid.  You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Baa-chan,” Naruto voice calls out, defensive.  “C’mon, go easy on her.”  Tsunade doesn’t even turn her head to acknowledge him.  

“Honestly, what the hell were you thinking, Sakura? You were just gonna go and off yourself?  Leave us all the way your mother did you?” A sharp pain pinches through Sakura. Tsunade doesn’t stop, “And look what good that did.”  Sakura’s chest shrinks, ribs squeezing her lungs so tight she’s sure they are popping between the cracks. 

Hinata audibly gasps and Naruto cries in outrage.  “What the hell, Baa-chan!”

“I’m sorry,” Sakura chokes out.  “I’m sorry,” she says again.  And she means it, her heart torn and aching and much too heavy to still be in her body.  She has no idea why it still is.  She could have sworn Sasuke snatched it out.

Sakura feels a set of warm hands on her from the opposite beside, one rubbing her hunched back and the other gathering her bony wrist.  It’s so warm with that fiery chakra, she doesn’t need to turn her head to know it’s Naruto.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Tsunade’s voice cracks this time, and the weakness snaps Sakura’s head towards her again.  In the few moments that have passed, Tsunade’s tired face has become terribly wasted.  “What were you thinking?”

Tsunade pulls Sakura out of Naruto’s arms and into her own.  Sakura can feel Tsunade’s tears, wetting her crass, pink locks.  

In all the years Sakura has known the Godaime, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen her so naked with affection.  Nor sorrow. And Sakura’s heart cracks from the feel of it, how needy Tsunade’s grip is around her.  

There’s a jarring relief searing through part of Sakura—the part that’s been wondering if anybody ever needed her at all.  

“You stupid, stupid girl,” Tsunade says.  “You ever pull that shit again, and I swear, I’ll kill you.”

Sakura cries dry, her scrawny arms stiffly winding themselves around Tsunade.  “I’m s-sorry,” she says again.  She’ll never be able to say it enough.

Tsunade holds her tight, but not long.  She pulls away, exhales with a deep flare of her nostrils.  She palms her head before she shakes it from side to side, in a sloppy manner that spoke to her slight inebriation.  “Ugh, I’m too drunk for this conversation,” she admits.  “I’ll let you kids talk and notify the Hokage.”  She wipes her eyes, and gives a mock-glare at Sakura, before pushing a prudent finger into Sakura’s breastbone.  “We’re not done though, you got that?”

Sakura is still crying, but she feels her lips pull back into a disjointed smile, before she gasps an almost-chuckle.  She wipes at her own cheek then, nodding.

When Tsunade walks out, Naruto doesn’t wait a breath before he yanks Sakura against him.  It’s sudden and Sakura feels her head toss and roll, like it was barely corded to her neck, before it thunks against his shoulder.  

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto says, and his voice is close, a wet vibration resonating through her ear. “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.”  

Sakura incrementally lifts her head, just enough to meet the deep blue sky of Naruto’s damp eyes.  She regrets that look on his face—the bitter set of his jaw, like he’s trying hard not to frown even as he cries.  She’s seen it more than she’s ever wanted these past few months.  

Her fingers come to grasp at that tan, whiskered cheek, and Sakura leans up to graze her lips against the other.  The kiss is strained and barely there, and then his cheek is wet with her tears as well as his.  

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” Sakura says, and she hopes he knows she’s being sincere.  Naruto will always be her boy.

“Sakura,” Sai says. It’s not overtly mechanical, or practiced.  It’s just tired, and very, very sad.  Sakura turns to him, and Naruto lets her go with a tentative shake.

“I think…I think I know why you did what you did,” Sai says, not looking anywhere in particular.  “But please…don’t do it again.”

Sakura sees the fracture lying between them.  It’s painfully large and terrifyingly deep, with cool blue eyes, pale blond hair, and a very big, beautiful mouth.

She thinks Sai must hate her for this.  To have to endure two heartbreaks in such a small amount of time.  She sees the grief in the slump of his shoulders, the creases along his fisted hands.

“Gods,” Sakura says. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re sorry,” Hinata says, approaching the bed with dainty steps.  Her pretty pearl eyes are rimmed with pinks and underlined with purples. Sakura remembers Hinata in her own hospital bed, how she looks barely better than when she was balling her eyes out over the death of her child.  

“We knew you were hurting, and...” Hinata rubs her arm, sets her gaze somewhere along the floor.  “We should have done more for you.  We should have made sure you knew you were loved.”

Sakura sinks into the stiff mattress, watches Naruto curl a bandaged arm around his wife, kisses the top of her head in steadfast affection.  Love has nothing to do with it. Sakura thinks.  

She sees her tousan in that moment, who often kissed her grieving kaasan the same way.  She sees him in all his valor, his wild hair and incandescent spirit.  Sakura was just an innocent girl with an innocent crush those days.  She remembers him teasing, You never know.  He could be someone very special.  I met your kaasan around your age, and even then, His eyes were star-speckled, arm tight around kaasan’s middle to hold her secure.  I knew.  

Sakura remembers the blank look in kaasan’s eyes, despite all his ardor.  Love has nothing to do with it.  

And yet, it has everything to do with it.

Sakura turns on her side, not interested in remembering anymore.  She finds Sai’s fingers, pale and stiffly wrapped in the sheets by her beside.  She winds her fingers through his, stares at the twitch of his white wrist.  

“How is Ino?”  It’s stupid of her to ask.  If the news is bad, she knows she won’t be able to handle it. But it’s been on her mind since she opened her eyes and she needs to know.

Sakura feels Sai tense against her palm, and she tries to squeeze his hand in consolation, but it comes out bare and weak.  “The Godaime wouldn’t let me visit,” Sai says, sounding displeased.

“Baa-chan asked me to give Ino some of my chakra,” Naruto says.  “I couldn’t give much because it would shock her system or something like that, but Baa-chan said it was enough to make sure she recovers.  They don’t know when though.”

“Oh,” Sakura says, and closes her eyes.  For a short pause, she can hear her wilted heart beating in her chest, and she pretends it’s Ino’s instead.  “That’s good. I’m glad.”

For a soft, peaceful moment, there’s nothing but the ventilators droning on and the occasional cry of the gales beyond the window.  Then there’s the heavy creak of the door, and she hears Tsunade drunkenly call, “Alright kids, beat it!  The Hokage wants a word alone with her.”

She opens her eyes to see Kakashi pacing in.  Naruto, Hinata, and Sai give her disheartened goodbyes before leaving.  Then Kakashi’s by her bedside.  

He stares at her like he hasn’t seen her in years.  “I’m sorry,” he says.

Sakura doesn’t really know what he’s referring to, but she doesn’t want to find out either.  So she opts for a simple nod.

“Me too.”  

She makes a motion with her hand, two soft pats by her head.  She meets Kakashi’s eyes and he looks hesitant at first, but then the bed sinks with his weight.

He sighs.  “I really messed up with you guys, didn’t I?”  His pale hair falls in front of his face, and Sakura thinks it looks a little less grey and a little more white.

“You did okay, sensei. The best you could,” Sakura says, and she feels him card his fingers through her hair.  She offers him a tired smile.  “We’re trying, remember?”  His hand pauses, and Sakura thinks he smiles at that, but the movement beneath his mask comes and goes so fast she can’t be sure.  

Kakashi lean over her then, and for a moment, she sees his fingers dip before his face, pulling stretchy fabric along.  Suddenly, she sees his bare chin: pale-grey skin, deprived of sun, with little white whisks of facial hair.  He moves closer, until his chin is nearly pressing against her right eye.  She blinks it closed and he kisses the top of her head.

Then Kakashi pulls his mask back up, and sits upright.  Sakura doesn’t manage to get a decent look at his face, but she feels privileged enough for the glimpse anyway.  

“You’re a good kid, Sakura,” he says, “I don’t know if that’s worth much in this world, but you are.”

“You think?” She asks, fingers curling into dampened, rough sheets.

“I know.”

Sakura closes her eyes, swallows, then breathes.  She exhales deep, in the very same way she remembers doing after the war.  Or maybe just before it.  

“Thank you, sensei.”

Kakashi waits several beats, then tilts his head to the side.  “I should get the Godaime before she gets plastered,” he says, as if she isn’t already.  “We still have to seal your chakra.”

She feels his eyes on her, wearing a look of calm anticipation, as if she’s going to whip out a chakra scalpel and cut open her throat right now.

Sakura thinks she would want to, considering what’s to come.  But she can’t really fathom having that kind of energy.  She’s still stuck in a burnout after years of hysteria.  

Besides, she needs to see Ino first.  Ino just needs to be okay, everything else can come after.

“Don’t worry, sensei,” Sakura says.  “I’m a medic. I know standard procedure.”

Kakashi’s chin tilts until he’s staring forward.  “Knowing it and liking it are two different things.”  And that’s true enough, so Sakura doesn’t say anything.

They sit in quiet until Tsunade shuffles in with a practiced sort of coordination.  Her cheeks should be pink, but she’s so pale in the face that they are only peach.  

“You two’r taking too long,” she says.

Kakashi stands, then turns towards Sakura.  “Are you ready?”  He asks, offering her his hand.

“Yeah,” she says, despite the fatigue.  She clasps his hand tight.

 They walk her to a room that Sakura has been in more times than she can count, though never like this. It’s white and empty, with nothing but a small counter to hold a bucket of extracted Senju blood, paint brushes, and kunai.  The tiles feel like ice beneath her heel.

“Are you sure you can perform it?”  Kakashi asks, his eyes directed on the Godaime.  “I know you had a long day.”

“What else is the Yin Seal for?”  Tsunade asks, before her eyes find Sakura, and plaster themselves to her forehead. She just sighs, sounding utterly exhausted.  “Right. I’ll do the first,” she tells Kakashi. “You can do the second.”

Sakura pulls off the stiff gown, and places it neatly in the corner of the room.  She tries to pretend like she doesn’t see Kakashi flinch when he sees her bare body, and tries even harder not to wonder why.  Sakura just sits down in the center of the room and drinks from a water bottle Tsunade had handed her.  The liquid is as cold as the room and it takes everything in her not to make a show of shivering.

Kakashi helps set up the concentric circle of kunai and Tsunade walks over to her.  She gasps when bare, frigid fingers meet her back. The blood is slick and cool, and it sticks to her skin like it’s been churned with adhesive.  Sakura tries to steady her jaw, much like how she imagines Tsunade is trying to steady her hand.

Sakura tries to distract herself.  She doesn’t want to think about the puppet-like motions and medicated eyes of the nin in the psych ward, or how she’ll soon be joining them.  She focuses on the sheen blade of a single kunai, just a few feet in front of her.  

“The Hokage isn’t usually present for chakra seals,” she says.

“No,” Kakashi says simply, “They usually are not.”

“Why now?”  Sakura asks.

“Because you’re my student, of course,” Kakashi says, and gives her a pleasant, nearly humored smile and crinkle of his eye.

Tsunade scoffs. “There’s not enough medics that can perform high level fūinjutsu like this, if I pass out,” she explains. “An’ don’t take it personally if Shizune doesn’t visit; she’s running the building right now, though it’s supposed to be her day off.”

“Speaking of which,” Tsunade begins.  “She told me Uchiha still hasn’t woken up yet.”

Sakura surprises herself; she doesn’t even flinch at the mention of him.  But maybe that’s because she’s already shivering.  

“an’ sensors keep saying crap about his chakra.  Shizune is worried,” Tsunade adds.

“What kind of crap?” Kakashi asks.

“They said it’s…What was the words she used?...disturbing.” Tsunade pauses, then adds, “Dark.”

“I wouldn’t worry. It’s to be expected,” Kakashi says, “Considering what he just saw.”

“He shouldn’t,” Sakura spat, curling until her left knee meets her chin.  She doesn’t like that Sasuke carried her here.    There’s no logic to it.  He hates the hospital.  She told him she loved him and he left her on a fucking bench.

“Touschy,” Tsunade slurrs. “You’re still avoiding him?  Then what was he doing in your apartment?”

And Sakura’s falters because what was he doing in her apartment?

“Well, h­e was on the mission with Ino.  He was probably just concerned,” Kakashi says, as if that explains anything at all. “Anyway,” He says, unsubtly changing the subject, “will the two symbols seal work?”

Tsunade scoffs. “Don’t mock my apprentice.”

“I figured as much.” Kakashi sighs, before walking over until she sees his knees touching hers. He pushes her hair back, then presses a bloody pointer finger to her forehead.  His blood is warmer but still unpleasantly wet and Sakura has to hold in her little quivers.

He writes the kanji delicately at first, trailing down her nose, over her lip and chin.   Once he meets her knee he starts making broader, haphazard strokes.  By the time he reaches the floor, Tsunade is making another line of kanji across her body.

Sakura tries to count the kunai in front of her, then the tiles on the floor, stares at her toes and fingers and wiggles them in tandem.  They’re going to make me talk to a psychologist.  

She’ll have to lie her way through an entire week.  Maybe even more, if they deem her unstable.  Sakura doesn’t even want to think about that.

She eyes the white pleated door, and the square, narrow window. She considers running for it—bolting out of here and Konoha too.  She would be a nukenin until they give up the search, then she could settle in the far border of Ame.  She knows it’s easier to grow crops around that sector and lead a self-sustaining life, thanks to the weather.  Naruto would understand.  Maybe Ino would too.  

But then she discards the plot.  Tsunade might be too tired to catch her, but Kakashi isn’t.  And her body is still in bad shape.

When they finish, Kakashi says, “I think we should just do it at the same time.  Get it over with.”

There’s a lingering pause after that, where Sakura frowns, before Tsunade speaks, “Are you trying to kill her?  Do you have any idea how painful it is to have a seal placed on you?”

“It’s been awhile,” Kakashi says with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.  “My apologies.”  Tsunade grunts.

“You ready, kid?”

Sakura exhales, reconsiders and rejects dashing out, then nods.  “Yeah,” she says.  Kakashi gently weaves his fingers through hers and squeezes comfortingly.

First she feels Tsunade’s warm hand on her back.  It’s soft, smooth.  And then it’s not.

There’s scorching, white-hot pain, inflamed through her spine, spreading from the tissue around her eye sockets to the bones in her foot.  

Sakura doesn’t scream, just bites her lip and clamps Kakashi’s hands with her own.  She tries to regulate her breathing through it, but it’s hard to tell if she’s doing it properly when her insides feels like they’re rupturing.

She thinks a year must have come and gone before the agony suddenly stops.  She’s panting, and the world has changed from concrete planes to an eerie nebulous.  Her senses are confused, like they’ve been doused in novacaine.  

What is this?  Sakura thinks.  This container feels strange, a mere whisper of the one before.  It’s terribly disconnected.  This isn’t my body.

“Sakura?”

She looks up, meeting Kakashi’s eyes and there’s a faint, sticky sensation in the movement.  She realizes she’s sweating.  “Huh?”

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Oh, uh,” she begins. She’s not.  She hates this. “Actually, um,” Where is her chakra?  Where is her chakra?

“The Yin—” Tsunade starts.

“Nevermind.”  Kakashi smacks his palm over her forehead.

She does scream this time, and she thinks Tsunade tries to hold her hand through it but it doesn’t help at all.  It’s infinitely worse the second time, and when Kakashi finally pulls away, Sakura collapses, pain still rinking around her ears.

“Phew!”  Kakashi falls backwards on his rear and rests an arm on his knee while he catches his breath.  “Y’know, I really don’t remember it being that bad.”

Tsunade laughs, a bit breathy and disoriented.  “You should’ve seen some of the other patients.  I got ANBU crying like newborns.”  

She turns her head then, squeezes Sakura’s hand, still clasped in her own.  “You still there, kiddo?”

Sakura exhales out a deep breath. “Y-yeah,” she says, then adds, “I think,” because really, she’s not so sure she is.

“C’mon, let’s get you in a shower before we both pass out,” Tsunade says.  “You still smell like barf.”

It’s a hard adjustment, standing on legs that don’t quite feel like hers.  Everything is strangely simplified without chakra, as if someone imitated the world’s surfaces but left the interior hollow.  She’s feels as if she’s standing in the shower stall of a cheap dollhouse, inside an equally cheap, plastic body.  Sakura prays it’s just the fatigue.

How can we do this to people?  She thinks.  This is a nightmare . No wonder her okaasan went mad, leading a life like this.

Tsunade helps Sakura wash up rather delicately, despite looking like she might double over any moment. She shampoos her hair, and lets Sakura brush and gargle out the awful, distinct taste of pill in her mouth.

When Sakura steps out of the shower, Tsunade guiding her steps, she’s caught by a strange figure before them, sitting inside that big rectangle above the sink.  The image hits so sudden that she yelps, stumbling backwards.

It’s a skeleton.  A walking, pale-peach skeleton.  Bones.

“What is it?”  Tsunade asks.

She’s confused by Tsunade’s lack of reaction, and she takes an uncertain step forward again to investigate. The skeleton takes one towards her too.

It has hollowed cheeks and delirious green eyes—the only color—standing lucid inside the paper complexion.  “Oh my gods,” she whispers.  Sakura sees ribs, so many ribs—she could count every one, if she wants.  Drab and wet, pink hair framing concave cheeks.  

Is that me?

“Sakura,” Tsunade says, sounding distressed and deeply concerned.  “C’mon, you need rest.”

Sakura makes a sound, and the cretin in the mirror looks as terrified as she feels.  She sees the popping collar bones curve in, and fat droplets fall down those ugly, swollen eyes.  She cups a hand over her mouth, “I’m bones,” Sakura whimpers, “I’m bones.”

Tsunade takes her hand, ungently pulls Sakura to her wonderfully warm breast, like she wants nothing more than to rip Sakura away from that mirror.  She doesn’t say anything, but her hand winds tight against the discs of her apprentice’s spine, and the paleness of her coral hair. Sakura’s throat is too dry for her to be crying like this, but she does anyway.

When they return to Sakura’s hospital bed, Tsunade sits on the floor against her beside.  “She isn’t you, Sakura,” Tsunade says, sounding resolute and gentle and utterly drained.  “She isn’t. Not right now, at least.  But we’re going to fix that.”

Sakura nods once, feeling too exhausted and strange to do much else.  She stares forward at the snow gathered by the edge of the windowsill. All white, and clean.  

She falls asleep to the sound of Tsunade’s breathing.

[thetypedwriter]

The Wicker King Book Review

The Wicker King Book Review by K. Ancrum 

Wowie, wowie, this book was a trip. Unfortunately I don’t mean that in the wow-what-a-fantastic-new-Miyazaki-movie-way because let’s be real, all of Hayao Miyazaki’s movies are a mind reel and anyone who actually understood all the intricacies of Spirited Away the first time they watched it is a bloody liar. That being said, The Wicker King is a fairly new publish by unknown author K. Ancrum that brings you the story of two very sad young men and their battle with negligence and mental health amongst a slew of other issues.

This was one of those books where nothing has been written about it and is largely ignored on every major social media platform. It’s hard to say why some books such as The Gentlemen’s Guide to Vice and Virtue seem like they have daily advertisements on Tumblr and Goodreads, while other books like this one are as noticeable as my Harry Potter fan fiction from 10 years ago. That being none at all.

I happened to stumble across this black little book on the shelves at Barnes & Noble over the holiday highdays on complete accident. Every few months I scour the shelves for anything and everything that captures my limited attention when it comes to young adult literature and this little beauty popped up for two reasons: the color of the pages and the synopsized fable of two tragically intertwined best friends.

Male best friends. Immediate zinger right there.

Unfortunately, good LGBTQ+ young adult literature is still highly limited and those that do exist are saturated with stereotypes and one dimensional characters flat enough to slip under a doorway. So, when a story so much as whispers about two best friends of the same gender needing each other and strongly hinting at not-so platonic feelings I am going to pick it up and I am going to read it.

Enough said.

However, that does not always mean I enjoy them (ie. The Love Interest by Cale Dietrich was an absolute train wreck). In the case of The Wicker King, I enjoyed some aspects of the story but found myself more disturbed at the end then hopeful. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty then.

Step one: the characters. It took me almost 20 pages to be able to differentiate between Jack and August, our two main protagonists. Although they're both described on the inside jacket as a pyromaniac and a golden sports boy respectively, it was difficult to figure out which one was which. And although Ancrum made it quite clear that the two boys are in two completely different social circles and don’t interact at school because it would confuse people, she yet starts doing that exact same thing almost immediately with no consequences or thoughts outside of a few petty comments. 

As for the characters themselves I liked them. Jack seemed a little off kilter for reasons I won’t give out in fear of spoilers, but I did end up liking August despite everything. Ancrum also portrays some interesting female characters who seem tough and mean. Mean female characters are always fascinating to me (Blair Waldorf for the win anyone?)

Step two: the writing itself was staged and written chronically but in a way that delivered almost as snapshots. Ancrum didn’t so much have chapters as she did little sneak peeks into Jack and August’s lives. Each “chapter” was maybe a page to three pages before it would end. It was an interesting way to read in that it felt like you weren’t getting the whole picture but instead little peepholes that kept you guessing. 

If this sounds like a turn off, don’t let it be. The way in which the scenes played out was smooth and cohesive, it was actually quite refreshing to read something that wasn’t an uber long chapter. It was easy to be sucked in and say, “okay, just one more, one more.” Just like me when I’m eating Cheetos.

Step three: graphics and coloring. In this aspect The Wicker King gets a 10/10. Ancrum was incredibly creative in a way that I found deeply impressive. The pages start off cream with black text as is pedantic for almost all novels. However, her pages slowly start to change from white with black text to completely black pages with white text. The transition follows the seamless progression of the plot: as the story gets darker so do the pages. The idea is so simple, and yet I’ve never seen it done before. Kudos to you Ms. Ancrum. 

There is also something strangely satisfying about seeing the pages darken in front of your eyes as the main characters start to hallucinate more and lead to events like drowning and catching fire. In addition, Ancrum also includes little snippets of digital media that are scattered across the pages systematically: a brain scan here, a Police report there, a photograph, or a torn page of a notebook. I liked how they added to the story and filled in some holes left out by the snapshot writing process.  

So you might be wondering, wow, this book sounds super creative and impressive, what’s wrong with it? That leads me to step four.

Step four: it was sad. Not in a Fault in Our Stars way sad, but sad in a way that leaves you cringing and looking for comfort food. The Wicker King is disturbing in its realistic portrayal of child abuse, neglected mental health, poverty, and just full blown ignorance. It’s frustrating to know that if Person A had just stepped in here or if Person B had actually paid attention, Jack and August could have had much better, healthier, happier lives. Alas, that doesn’t happen. 

Sometimes I like reading about sad things in real life-like serial killer cases or child abduction or listening to any news station honestly. However, those instances are few and far between. Personally, reading is an escape from life that can sometimes be too harsh and unforgiving and so when I have to escape from my escape, it’s always a despairing occurrence. I realize that this is not the case for everyone. If you like to read about forlorn and melancholic characters, this is definitely a novel that might intrigue you. K. Ancrum personally wrote characters like Jack and August to relate to other kids who have lived the same dismal existence.  If the rest of you are like me, you might be better off skipping over this one.

Recommendation: Unless you feast on the woebegone, love being inconsolable, or are studying pictorial representation and graphics in literature, The Wicker King is best left as an unknown book on the shelves that you always notice but have no interest in picking up unless you feel like sobbing.

Score: 6.5/10

[alexanderwrites]

Thoughts Roundup - Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 10

“Laura Is The One”

After the wild, nuts-to-the-wall freakout that was Part 8, Parts 9 & 10 have returned us to a more conventional mode of storytelling - it should be noted that “conventional” is used here very loosely, and that by episodic TV standards, these episodes are still pretty nuts-to-the-wall. Maybe part 8 pushed its nuts THROUGH the wall whereas 9 & 10 just gently press the nuts up against the wall. Maybe I should drop this analogy altogether and get into what was a slow, ruminative but intensely powerful hour of TV. (Also - I didn’t do a write up last week because i’m stupid and forgot).

. The violence against women in this episode can’t be ignored. It’s right there, front and centre. We start with Horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE Richard Horne being his horrible self and killing (or at least brutally attacking, she seemed to still be breathing) a witness to his earlier hit and run, before we move on to Amanda Seyfried’s Becky, who is viciously attacked by her ALSO HORRIBLE boyfriend. The trifecta is completed when Richard heads to his Grandma’s for a vicious, intrusive robbery. There is commentary on violence towards women here: when Robert Knepper’s Rodney is accidentally swatted in the face by Candie, it leaves a small mark, but no harm is really done. She is beside herself the rest of the scene, wailing and crying and overridden with guilt and fear. She feels genuine sorrow - contrast this with Richard’s nonchalance towards his violence against women and we start to get a look at how disparately different victims of violence are treated. 

The violence on display is as much about our perception of gender roles and their function within narratives as it is about highlighting how HORRIBLE these characters are. Having said that, it would be nice to see more female characters with a little more agency in the foreground. I do wish we had some more diversity when it came to leading women in the show (not to mention the almost non-existence of women of colour in the show) to counter-balance the violence against them. I believe the characters ARE there, but due to the unimaginably huge roster of characters, a lot of them are shuffled to the back. It’s a shame because you know what? I could watch an entire hour of Jane Adams’ Constance. She’s such a charmingly funny and unique character, and every time she turns up I hope she’ll get more than a few lines. Diane is similarly fascinating, but because of the narrative structure (and this and last week’s revelations), she’s being kept at arm’s length. A great character again, but I hope she isn’t absent in future episodes like she was tonight. Luckily we have Janey-E (Naomi Watts is just the greatest of all time and I won’t hear any arguments against it) as a prominent character, and she is a fascinatingly complex one, as she swings from being weirdly performative to achingly sincere. It’s easy to list a whole bunch of other great female characters, but I suppose what I wish is that they were more central to the plot in a positive way. Twin Peaks couldn’t be Twin Peaks without violence. It’s one of the things that the show is fundamentally about, and furthermore, how we react to, or DON’T react to that violence. But I don’t know that we need three scenes of it in one episode to highlight that. Then again, discomfort was probably the intent. We’re meant to feel like something deeply wrong is happening, and if that’s the intention then this episode succeeded. 

. I talked about that more than I expected, so moving on! Nadine got the moment of the night for me when her Silent Drape Runner store was revealed. Get it, girl!! I adore Nadine, the absolute weirdo. I dearly, dearly hope we get more of her over the next 8 episodes. It’s almost impossible to see how she could tie in to the central story which is a shame because she’s one of the most fun people to watch on the show. 

. The scenes with Cooper were a mix of hilarious and tragic, as they tend to be. It is both understandable and unfathomable how Janey-E could find him attractive - on the one hand, the doctor’s scene reveals how scarily in shape he is. No one’s blaming her for checking him out. On the other hand....come on. You’re attracted to the guy who drinks coffee like it’s a sippy cup of ribena? It’s a funny notion, but also a little sad because it makes you realise how starved for warmth and affection she probably is, as anyone would be. Him, too. Their sex scene is initially pretty funny because of Kyle Maclachlan’s fucking expressions (literally). Man, he has proven himself to have adept comic skills this year - as well as pretty much every other acting skill known to the profession. But as they lie together afterwards, it feels poignant again. It’s another reminder of how close yet far away our Coop is, and as much as I want him to find himself, I want Janey-E to be happy and find herself, too. She’s been put through some shit, having unwittingly married a non-human doppelganger manufactured by an evil entity who has escaped from another dimension. That’s a lot for one person. Plus she’s named Janey-E. How unlucky can one person be?

. I sort of liked the stuff with Jim Belushi and Robert Knepper. They give a couple of very intense and solid performances, but the problem for me was that it’s another complex storyline being introduced so deep into the series. If it’s one that lasts a few episodes - fine. But i’d almost like to see their part wrapped up - or advanced dramatically - by next week, mainly because there are more interesting threads the one these two linger on. I want more Doppelcoop. I want the Bookhouse Boys heading to the black lodge. I want more Patrick Fischler rather than the guys he gives orders to. It’s hard to judge from episode to episode which assortment of characters you’ll get, and it’s starting to feel like this series’ logline should’ve adapted an existing catchphrase: “Twin Peaks is like a box of Gormonbozias: You never know what creamed corn nightmare you’re gonna get”. I personally am happy with whatever assortment we get, but getting Belushi and Knepper’s characters is like getting a pretty nice plain milk chocolate when I could be getting a delicious hazelnut deluxe. It’s not bad at all, just...perfectly fine. 

. When it comes to Diane and her relationship with Doppelcoop, i’m utterly intrigued and utterly uninterested in guessing where it’ll go. There will be a million theories floating out there about how and why they’re in contact, but i’d rather just watch the story play out rather than guess ahead. It’s a very cool development though, and Cole’s vision of Laura at the door was completely disarming and haunting. Again, I don’t really want to guess ahead at how Laura will play into the following episodes, but we know she will. That’s enough for me. I’ve been browsing the Twin Peaks reddit lately (I know...I know) and i’ve gotta admit i’m waring very thin from it. Not EVERYTHING is a thing, guys. I’m beginning to think all the fan theories are detracting from the story, when really i’d rather just experience the ride. We can’t outsmart Frost and Lynch and they’ll tell us what they want and in the manner they want to. And anyway, more interesting than a tenuous “it’s all set in another dimension and i have proof!” theory is something that put maybe the biggest smile on my face yet: ALBERT ON A DATE!!! With CONSTANCE!! How utterly delightful. I guess he’s got over his love of Harry Truman, then. 

. I really thought we were going to get Audrey this episode, as we inch closer and closer towards her through her horrible bastard son. Seeing more of Johnny this season has been a surprise, but from what happens to him tonight, not a pleasant one. It is fully heartbreaking watching him try to wriggle out of his restraints to rescue his Mum, and a pretty solid metaphor for so many of the male characters on the show: When a woman is being hurt, the men are impotent to help. For Johnny, it’s understandable that he can’t, the poor guy. But for the other men? It’s not that they can’t, it’s that they won’t. Harry Dean Stanton’s Carl plays a lovely old folk song outside his trailer, looking briefly torn up when he sees a mug go flying through a trailer window, the sound of a furious male voice growling from inside. Does he go and intervene? He doesn’t. And he’s a ‘good guy’, right? I re-watched Blue Velvet again yesterday, and was blown away by how full of shit Jeffery Beaumont’s good-guy image is. Like Carl, when he sees Dorothy’s attack, he doesn’t step in. He just watches. This seems to be a recurring theme with Lynch: those who see violence against women stand by and allow it to happen. And there ARE Carls everywhere, who’d rather say “That’s sad but not my business” than stand up and help. What happens to the Woman who witnesses evil (ie Richard’s hit and run) and tries to report it? She’s destroyed by a Man. God, it’s heartbreaking. The layers of commentary get deeper even as I write this, and I realise things about this episode I hadn’t thought of. I think part 10 is the most troubling and divisive, yet most fiercely critical yet. 

. And then, we get a surprise I truly wasn’t expecting: more of The Log Lady. Maybe the most iconic, important and wise character on the entire show, leading us onwards through the dark night. God bless the log lady, and god bless Catherine Coulson. Every word she speaks is fraught with such pain and feeling, and it’d be a fucking sin for us to not cherish every word of it. I found myself listening to her words just as Hawk does - with eyes almost closed, in utter silence, revering them and their power. At the centre of this Season, underneath it all, the real heroes are Hawk and The Log Lady. It is so nice, so utterly refreshing to have such a pure moment of goodness and beauty, and for it to be between a Woman written with true agency and a Native American Man who has risen to protect his town - two beautiful souls who are stepping in to save the day that the white dudes have repeatedly fucked right up. It’s a gorgeous scene, and it segues into a road house performance that is easily my favourite of the year so far. Rebekah Del Rio’s performance of No Stars (No surprises, it was co-written by David Lynch) is haunting and it feels like a turning point for the series - from here on in, the darkness in the woods around Twin Peaks is out in full force. Perhaps this is why the episode is so aggressive. I left this terrific episode feeling unsettled and troubled - and that’s exactly how we’re supposed to feel. There’s a bad moon rising over Twin Peaks. 

“But in these days the glow is dying. What will be in the darkness that remains?”

[userlando]

Hawaii Loving (Grayson x Reader)

Summary: Requested by anon: “hi, i absolutely love your writing! could you possibly write something about being in hawaii with grayson? i'm still not over all of those pictures of him! 😭😂” Word Count: 1,730 Warnings: None. A/N: Gurl, I feel you and I got you. Hope this satisfied your Hawaii!Gray needs. ;) xx (Also, if you’ve requested something then please be patient. I’ve gotten a lot of them so it might take a while!)

Hawaii was beautiful. There was no doubt about that. The sand was white and searing hot against the soles of your feet, the ocean sparkling blue and clear and the food was just simply amazing.

School had been stressing you out, but you had finally graduated and as a present, Grayson decided to book you two tickets to Hawaii. When he’d broken the news, you had squealed, jumped around and then jumped him, disbelief and excitement running through you at the thought of spending a whole week in Hawaii of all places with the person you loved.

The surprises just kept coming though, because you had thought that you would stay at a hotel but you should’ve known that Grayson would go all out, because he was just that incredible. He had booked you the Honeymoon water bungalow, way out in the ocean with an incredible view of the beach that could be seen through the roof to floor windows. You couldn’t lie, you had cried at the sight and Grayson had laughed, pulling you in for a hug and a kiss.

It had been two days though, and in that short span of time you’d gotten a lot of adventures in. You had gone hiking, driven around in colorful vespas, fed monkeys, been snorkeling and gone on a late night beach picnic.

At the moment though, you were standing in the small kitchen of your bungalow, flipping pancakes while Grayson was snoring away in bed, tangled up in the sheets. You had been up pretty late last night, and you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed. But you still had a lot to explore and you figured that starting off the day with breakfast in bed was the perfect way.

You moved around the kitchen, bringing out the raspberries you had bought from a local market yesterday, along with syrup and blueberries. The pancakes soon stacked up, and you found a tray sitting around, placing the plate and glasses of freshly squeezed juice along with it.

You carefully carried the tray over to the bedroom, the double doors wide open for you to walk through. Gray was still out and you smiled fondly at the small snores he was producing, placing the tray down on the nightstand.

“Gray,” you whispered quietly in his ear, squatting down so you were face to face. You brought up a hand to stroke his cheek, up to his tousled hair. “Baby...”

He stirred awake, breathing in sharply through his nose before his eyes fluttered open. His bright eyes met yours and it took him a second before he registered your face.

“Good morning.” You smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to his warm cheek. The next thing you proceeded to do was find the remote so you could pull the curtains up and slide open the doors leading out to the patio. Sunlight flooded into the large bedroom and you heard a pained groan coming from behind you.

You turned around and saw Grayson getting out of bed, rubbing his eyes while shuffling his feet to the bathroom, not having a care in the world about the fact that he was butt naked. He kissed your cheek on the way, murmuring a good morning before disappearing into the bathroom, so you took your chance to crawl back into bed, laying across it on your stomach to reach for your glass of juice. You normally didn’t drink much juice, but there was something about this place and atmosphere that just made everything taste ten times better.

Gray came out of the bathroom, looking more awake and clad in a pair of white briefs, his tanned skin looking delicious. He eyed you laying on the bed in nothing but his tank-top and underwear, and you felt yourself blushing.

“I made you pancakes.” You nodded over to the tray and he followed the line of sight, smiling.

“That looks amazing,” he sighed and hurried back to bed, pulling the sheets over the two of you as you leaned your backs against the headboard. He placed the tray in front of you and you both dug in, eating as much as you could with the occasional glance and giggle, talking about your plans for today.

“I talked to a local yesterday, he told me about this amazing waterfall not too far from here. He said you could hike over there and that the path is amazing. Do you want to check it out? Could be cool.”

You made a pleased noise, picking up a small raspberry with your fingers and popping them into your mouth.

“I’m down for that.” You nodded, sucking on your finger to get rid of the stickiness.

Grayson’s eyes fell to your lips, watching them wrapped around your finger.

“Your wish is my command, Miss. Tease.” He said amusedly and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh so I’m the tease? Do I need to remind you of last night, Dolan?” You asked, poking his chest with my finger. He laughed, placing a hand over the place where you had poked him.

“You know what? I don’t really remember... I could use a refresher.”

You rolled your eyes, going back to poke him but this time he caught your wrist with his hand, and there was this moment of silence where you both looked at each other, feeling the fun atmosphere change into something more heavy.

Before you knew it, he had flipped you over so he was hovering over you and pulled you in for a kiss, his lips tasting sweet from the syrup and berries. You squirmed as he ran a hand down your side, grabbing your thigh, letting out a small moan.

“Weren’t we going hiking?” You asked in between kisses, gasping when his lips traveled towards your jaw, down to the crook of your neck.

“It can wait,” he sucked a mark onto your skin, making your grip on his arms tighten. “I just changed my priorities.”

The trail over to the waterfall was beautiful. You were walking along the beach and through the jungle, taking the beauty of the land in. The sun was searing hot and you both were sweating like crazy, and you couldn’t wait to reach the waterfall so you could take a dip.

Grayson had stopped along the way, gasping excitedly as he looked up at a tree that turned out to be a coconut tree. And without warning, he had started to climb it, determined to pick some up and getting an Instagram photo out of it.

You made it to the waterfall eventually and you couldn’t stop gaping at the size of it. It was absolutely beautiful. And judging by the look on Grayson’s stunned face, he thought the same.

He started walking over to some flat rocks right by the water, taking your hand and gently pulling you along, making sure that you didn’t trip or hurt yourself. You set your belongings down on the rocks, wasting no time in stripping down to your swimsuit

“I can’t decide what’s blowing my mind more, this waterfall or you in that swimsuit.” Grayson said and he actually looked so torn it made you laugh.

You tip-toed over to him, careful not to step on anything pointy, and wrapped your arms around his naked torso.

“I love you, you know.” You told him sincerely and his eyes softened.

“And I love you.” He leaned down to kiss you, stealing your breath away, the only way he could. “Sorry, baby.”

Before you had time to register what was happening, he had pulled away and pushed you into the water. You shrieked in panic, feeling yourself submerge into the cooling water. You swam up, resurfacing just in time to see Grayson plummet in with an excited yell of his own.

Water splashed onto your face and you giggled, wiping away the water that had gotten into your eyes.

“You’re a dick, you know that?” You said with no heat at all as Grayson swam towards you, the biggest smile on his face.

His wet eyelashes were clumped together and they looked so much darker, which brought out the color of his eyes. You were sure that if you weren’t already in water, you would’ve fallen over from weak knees.

“I am, but I’m your favorite dick.” He wiggled his eyebrows and pushed away his wet fringe that was sticking to his forehead.

You playfully glared at him before turning to swim towards the roaring waterfall. 

Later on, you were sitting on the rocks, munching on the coconuts that Grayson had picked. And it was such a serene moment between you two, you lying on your back with your head on Grayson’s lap; his free hand stroking your drying hair while he finished the bits of coconut with the other.

“I could live like this forever,” you hummed sleepily, covering your mouth with your hand as a yawn came creeping out of nowhere. You blinked your eyes in surprise and Grayson snorted out a laugh.

“This is pretty nice, isn’t it?” He agreed, lifting his eyes to take in the waterfall in front of you. You nodded, taking his hand in yours. “I could get used to the breakfast in bed thing, too.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile on your lips.

“Tomorrow is your turn.” You joked and he suddenly looked serious.

“Always.”

You opened up his clenched fist that you were holding, pressing your lips softly against the palm of his hand. His skin smelled like salt and nature, and just Grayson.

You pressed some more kisses onto his hand before he cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re so gorgeous. I can’t believe I get to call you mine.” He muttered quietly, like he was thinking out loud.

You blushed, meeting his gaze and not letting the eye contact go as he let his thumb travel to the button of your nose, to your lips, stroking your bottom one. You hauled yourself up, opting to straddle his waist instead and putting your arms around his naked, toned shoulders.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” You whispered and placed a small kiss on his lips.

“Nice to meet you luckiest girl in the world,” he muttered against your smiling lips. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”