#wills own feelings on his own habit of running away rubbing off onto the rest of the show? idk man why are u asking me

[whynotimtired]

We all know that Will's prone to freezing and fleeing as opposed to fighting (who can blame him) and this is consistently not an issue. In fact, the two only times he didn't run he was taken/taken over by an eldritch monster. That's like. The worst thing that could possibly happen. The characters talk about how he's good at running and he's great at hiding and this is all purely GOOD. Nobody faults him for this and truly, nobody seems to even notice.

We open in on st4 and we can see Will is struggling with El being bullied, in the way that he can't help and it's crushing him. Nobody else notices, nobody cares. He has a problem with this. It's negative to him. And so, narratively, he has to overcome it. He feels guilty and powerless and weak and he's going to have his st5 moment. He will help her.

[iamfina5]

The Kinslayer Couple

Summary: The ground falls out from beneath Valaena Velaryon’s feet within the span of a week. The week begins with the death of her grandsire, making her mother queen and her Princess of Dragonstone. It ends with the death of her brother Lucerys at the hands of her husband, Aemond Targaryen. From there, Valaena embarks on a perilous journey to win a war against her own kin, forced to discern who are friends and who are foes on both sides of the conflict.

Chapter One: A Dying Flame

Next

134 A.C.

“The storm is coming in from the South,” observes Valaena as she gazes out the window. Her brother Joffrey stands on a chair beside her, his eyes flitting between the swirling clouds in the sky and the choppy waves beyond the isle’s shore. She waves her hand in the same direction as the gusty breeze, and his eyes follow as though he can see the wind. “That means it will have left Storm’s End, and Luke will be able to fly home soon.”

After their grandsire, King Viserys, had passed away a week before, their uncle, Aegon, had usurped the Iron Throne from their mother, Rhaenyra. Their mother had been crowned regardless, and plans for war had soon followed. As part of the effort to rally allies, their brothers Jacaerys and Lucerys had been sent to different lords of the realm to remind them of the oaths they had sworn to Rhaenyra in her youth. Lucerys had gone on dragonback to Storm’s End, less than a day’s ride away, but has yet to return.

“I’m afraid not,” calls a voice. Attention stolen from the weather outside, Valaena and Joffrey turn around to see their step-father, Daemon. Joffrey hops off the chair and rushes over to him. Daemon pulls the boy to his side with a surprising amount of tenderness, running his hand through Joffrey’s curls. Ever since news had come that Viserys had died, he has been cold and distant from the rest of the family, consumed by his quest for fire and blood. Seeing him as he is now, hesitant with his face contorted in something akin to pain, sends Valaena alight with panic.

As has become her habit in moons past, her hand falls to her swollen belly, rubbing over it in wide circles in an effort to soothe herself. “What’s happened,” she asks.

Daemon sighs. “Sit down.” He gestures towards the chair Joffrey had vacated.

She does not move. “Tell me what has happened,” she demands, using her most queenly voice. Now that her mother is queen, new but not unexpected responsibilities have been foisted onto Valaena. She is Princess of Dragonstone, and with that role comes people asking after her opinion day and night in matters of the household, the isle, the crownlands, the Seven Kingdoms, and the conflict the Dowager Queen Alicent has created. She has learned quickly that she must be the very picture of authority at all times.

Daemon moves his hand to Joffrey’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. “Lucerys and Arrax were cut down over Shipbreaker Bay.”

Valaena feels the blood drain from her face and pour into her limbs, making her feel laden and unable to move, as Joffrey gasps and whines. “Luke is dead?”

“Yes,” answers Daemon without reprieve. Joffrey, who is too young to quell his emotions, bursts into tears at once, sobbing and pressing his face into Daemon’s waist.

For her part, Valaena herself does not join him in his cries, though her body does, crying out to echo her brother’s agony. Pain erupts in her lower back, so sharp as to make her think she has been stabbed. She moves her hand to the base of her spine and presses down, and the pressure moves to the floor of her pelvis, growing the longer it sits there. She grits her teeth as she wills herself to think past the discomfort. “That is not possible. Lord Borros and his men haven’t the means to slay a dragon, even one so small as Arrax.”

Daemon does not dispute this. “It was Vhagar.”

Unable to keep herself quiet at this, Valaena groans and clutches at her stomach. The pain in her spine has returned, but she is almost blind to it. All she can think of is little Lucerys, flying through a storm on his fledging dragon, trying to make his way out but to no avail. How frightened he must have been, staring down the maw of a beast as fearsome as Vhagar, the terrible, ferocious mount of her terrible, ferocious husband.

“Aemond did this,” she gasps. She turns wide eyes on her step-father, desperate for him to deny it. Fervently, she wishes for him to relay a tale of the old dragon gone rogue, having leapt from the ground without her rider on her back.

Keep Reading

[witch-hazels-musings]

I was wondering if you would be able to write Childe watching as his s/o gets along with Teucer and just how it warms his heart. Like perhaps they spend the day together but at the end Childe has to go do something and comes back to see that his s/o with Teucer in their lap who both fell asleep waiting for him.

I knew you were the one ...

Warning -> fluff

Childe X GN Reader | Anthology

He knew you were the one so long ago. The thought never crossed his mind that you could be anything other than the person who was to be with him for the rest of his life and if he could get away with it, in the next life too. 

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind if my little brother comes along?” He rubbed the back of his head and gave you an apologetic smile. 

“What! Of course not. I thought he was in Snezhnaya, though?”

“Well, apparently it’s becoming a habit for him to stow away on the boats in order to visit his big brother.” He laughed and the sound rattled your heart. There was nothing in your mind that made you melt faster than his laugh. 

“Ah, well I wonder where he gets that from?” You gave him a playful push and quickly, your hand was snatched by his. He pulled you to him and wrapped his arm around your back destroying all hopes of your escape. 

“Haha, you’re so funny.” He bumped his forehead against yours and gave you a fake laugh. “You know,” he moved his face under your jawline and the warmth of his breath felt lovely against your skin. “I’m disappointed that you were so willing to push away our alone time today. How am I going to keep myself off of you?” He kissed the thin skin of your neck and you gripped onto his arms, your nails digging into his shirt. 

“Chi --” 

“Big Brother!” Teucer‘s voice shattered your closeness and when he turned the corner both you and Childe were now facing away from one another, your hand shielding your face while he rubbed his own. 

“Teucer! I told you to wait by the door.” Childe bent down to his level and rubbed his head playfully. 

“I was just excited!” He leaned around Childe and yelled in your direction, “Are you coming to hang out with us?!” 

Turning yourself around and putting on a sweet smile you answered him, “Yep, where are you wanting to go?” 

Childe was so thankful that you cared about his family. It meant so much to him that you all got along, and while he shared much about you in every letter, he wished you could go see them 

Still, there was something so powerful about the way you interacted with one of the most important people in his life. Watching how you supported him, how you laughed and played with him, and knowing that Teucer felt completely safe around you 

The first time he called you his older sibling Childe nearly fainted at the idea of that being the truth - how badly did he want you to be a part of his family 

“I’m sorry.” Childe walked back to you after talking with one of the other Fatui affiliates. “I have something urgent to take care of and I …” 

“Go. We will be okay.” You stand from your position next to Teucer and put your hand out to let him know you understood. 

“Did something come up at the toy factory?” Teucer jumped up on the rock ledge you’d both been resting on and his question confused you. You looked back to Childe with your head tilted. 

“Ah, yes. I have to put out some … issues.” He shook his head at you and you understood not to ask questions. 

“Well, Teucer. While he is gone, what would you like to do together?”

“Can we go play by the beach? The water is so warm!” 

“That sounds like a great idea. Childe, we will wait for you by the beach!” You exclaimed, your hand already captured by his brother and your legs running down that way. Childe waved at you and watched as you disappeared down the hill. 

Childe’s life was complicated, messy, and often filled with danger. It was stupid to get others involved in his life, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling, and he couldn’t stop himself from falling for you

When he found you underneath the shade of a tree, your arms wrapped around Teucer and a smile on both of your faces, he knew there was no turning back 

The sun warmed the sand under his feet, and for a while he just sat next to you two, watching over your sleeping bodies. The sound of the water shifting over the sand and exchanging particles from deeper out at sea was soothing. He heard you hum and when he looked back to see you waking up he placed his finger over his mouth and pointed at Teucer. 

As quietly as he could, he moved closer to you and positioned himself behind your back, hoping the movement wouldn’t wake up the sleeping companion on your lap. 

“When did you get back?” You whispered, settling into his chest. 

“A while ago. I didn’t want to wake you.” He kissed the top of your head and rested his chin there. 

“Did your ‘issue’ get resolved?” 

“Mhm.” The waves pushed and pulled their way over the beach and, as he watched them, he felt his eyes get heavy and his breathing begin to slow. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hmm?”

“Will you marry me?” 

He felt your hand reach up to his face and your thumb brush over his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

The three of you took a pleasant nap under the warm sun and once he woke up his family grew by one.

[sourwulf]

hello 🥺🥺 idk if you're willing to do smut or anything nsfw, but i was wondering if you'd be willing to do something where u and stiles take each other's virginities?

༄  word count  —  1.9k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  none

⊹  cw  —  smut & oral

✎  masterlist

─

it was date night for you and stiles. aka the first time you’d been alone together in what felt like forever, even though it’d only been about a week. being friends with werewolves, banshees, and kitsunes came with its own challenges, and not getting any time to spend together just the two of you was one of them.

but tonight, a saturday, it was just you and him watching star wars. it was one of his favorite film franchises, and he’d been trying to get you to watch it for months. you finally gave in, and he brought over all of his dvds.

you were laying on the couch in his living room, his dad working overnight at the sheriff’s station.

you were laying on the edge with him behind you, his arm wrapped around your front. he had his head propped up in his palm to see over you.

it was going smoothly until you adjusted your position, unintentionally grinding into his crotch. you could immediately feel the energy in the room grow tense, awkwardness filling your bodies.

“sorry,” you mumbled, looking back to see a red stiles focusing on the tv. and that was when you could feel his growing erection pressing into your back.

“no, i’m sorry.”

he leaned in to kiss you, and you kissed him back. you reached up to place your hand on his cheek, pulling him closer.

only a second later, you were on your back with him between your thighs, kissing you softly. when his lips moved to your neck, you took in a deep breath.

“stiles,” you whispered, making him look at you. “neither of us have done this before.”

it was as if he remembered that both of you were virgins, and his demeanor changed. he got nervous and anxious, his breathing growing unsteady.

“do you not want to?”

you nodded quickly. “i do. i just... maybe we shouldn’t do this on the couch.”

“oh. good point.”

“you get the condoms, i’ll meet you in your room, yeah?”

this time, it was his turn to quickly nod, jumping off of you and practically sprinting upstairs with you close behind.

—

your head hit his pillow, his body pressing you into the mattress. his lips met yours quickly as he ground into you. his hands reached up into your shirt and you gasped at the sensation of his icy fingers, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

kissing him made you feel lightheaded and flustered, fuzziness clouding your vision. his hands worked softly and slowly under the fabric, enjoying how your skin felt on his fingertips. he took in every inch of you, trying to memorize it. his kiss slipped back to your neck again, and they left tiny hickeys everywhere they touched.

you tugged on his soft hair to get him to come back up to your lips, then worked your way down his neck. he let out a shallow moan at the contact and shut his eyes, savoring the feeling of your mouth on his neck.

you kissed and licked, smiling as he slowly lost it. you reached down and tugged his shirt over his head, taking in the sight of his slightly-toned abdomen.

“my eyes are up here,” he joked, making you chuckle. you sat up slightly to take off your shirt, causing him to gulp at the view.

“my eyes are up here,” you mocked and he smirked, pushing you onto your back gently, kissing down your chest. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he kissed across your half-exposed breasts, cupping them as he did.

you arched your back and reached under you to unhook your bra, and that was when his breathing stopped.

“is something wrong?” you asked, nervousness laced in your voice.

“no,” he said quickly. “you’re just... so beautiful.”

you felt your cheeks go red as you giggled, pulling him back in for a kiss. he snaked his hands down to the waistband of your pants, slipping his hand into your underwear and dipping a finger under the fabric to feel how wet you were. you gasp at the contact, and he continued kissing you.

“stiles,” you moaned into his mouth, making a groan exit his. “shit... that feels good.”

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

a few seconds later, he pulled his hand out of your underwear, pulling the rest of your clothes off your body and tossing them onto the floor. you, out of habit, pressed your thighs together, hiding your lower body from his eyes.

he gently pulled your thighs apart, hungry yet kind eyes tracing your skin.

“why are you trying to hide from me?” he asked gently in the tone of voice that made your heart flutter. it wasn’t a commanding or rude tone, in fact just the opposite. it was gentle, concerned.

“because you’re the first person to see me naked in a long time.”

he dipped his head down and kissed your knee, maintaining eye contact with you.

“you don’t have to cover yourself. i promise.”

you nodded, and a split second later, he was on his stomach with his head between your legs.

“i, uh, don’t really know what i’m doing,” he confessed, making you giggle.

“it’s okay. just do what you think you should do.”

almost with hesitation, he licked a stripe up your clit, making you gasp involuntarily.

“did that feel good?” he asked with concern in his voice. you nodded, and he went back to work.

your body squirmed, your back arched, and your toes curled. moans tumbled from your lips and you reached down to tug his hair.

him being a virgin made you assume he had no idea what he was doing, but you were wrong. he knew exactly what to do, and he was damn good at it.

but it didn’t last long, as he pulled away less than a minute after starting.

“is something wrong?” you asked, noticing he was moving his jaw.

“my jaw hurts,” he said defeatedly.

you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the way he said it, gripping his face and kissing him.

you pushed his pants and underwear down with your feet before wrapping your hand around his length, causing a shudder to run down his body. he squeezed his eyes shut as you continued kissing and stroking him, a desperate whine leaving his throat.

he reached over to the nightstand where he’d laid the box of condoms and pulled one out, all while trying not to knock the box onto the floor.

“do you know how to put one of those on?” you asked sarcastically, making him give you a look.

“i think i can figure it out.”

he looked back at you when it was on, and he leaned down to gently kiss you.

“are you sure about this?” he asked, making you smile.

“yes, stiles. i’m sure. do you want to?”

he gave you a look, as if to say ‘isn’t it obvious?’

“absolutely.” he reached down and lined himself up with your entrance, and you took in a deep breath. “ready?”

you nodded frantically. “yeah.”

he gently pressed into you, and you silently gasped, your eyebrows turning upward and your mouth dropping open. an involuntary moan filled his ears, which in turn made him groan.

once he bottomed out, he looked at you. “good?”

“good.” he kissed you for a moment, and he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in.

even though this was new, it was a thrilling sensation, one that made your stomach flip. your eyes stayed locked with his and his lips parted slightly, a groan low in his throat.

it was soft and slow, and you could feel every part of him — his skin against yours, his heartbeat in his chest, his hands, which were now gripping yours and holding them above your head.

one hand left yours and, a second later, you felt his fingers rubbing circles onto your clit, which made you jump. you let out a loud moan and he did the same in response, pulling you back in for another kiss.

“stiles, i think- i think i’m close.”

almost as if he knew exactly what to do, he picked up his pace to a fast but still gentle one. your knees pressed into his sides as the coil in your stomach built quicker than you anticipated it would.

you’d had orgasms before, considering you’d masturbated quite a few times. but none of the buildups for them had been anything like this one. this one was different.

it was like you were underwater, desperately trying to swim to the surface. you were kicking your feet and paddling your arms to the point they were on fire, fighting for that breath of air.

and then suddenly, you got to the surface.

your legs trembled like they never had before, your eyes were screwed shut tightly, and your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin.

it took everything in you not to scream out — not to scream his name.

and as swiftly as it’d started, it ended. he’d stopped his motions, allowing you to catch your breath.

you’d fantasized about your first time a lot, and in none of those fantasies did you cum. you figured whoever you’d lose it to would also be inexperienced, so you didn’t anticipate for them to be able to make you feel good.

but wow were you wrong.

“you good?” he breathed.

“so good,” you responded. “you feel so good, stiles. so good.”

starting his movements again, he went a bit faster now, but still slow enough to not overwhelm you. he pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck and jaw, moaning as he did so. you admired the sound, thinking his moan had to be the hottest sound you’d ever heard, and you could sense he was also close.

he moaned your name, which almost made you cum right then and there. as he came, his pace and rhythm changed to a choppy, quick one, compared to his smooth, gentle one.

he rested his forehead on yours as he finished, both of you panting loudly. neither of you moved for a few minutes, absorbing the fact that neither of you were virgins anymore.

a giggle formed in your throat and you smiled as he looked at you, chuckling to himself. he kissed you once more before pulling out of you slowly, which made you softly moan. when he was laying back down next to you, he reached down and gripped your hand.

neither of you spoke. and you rolled onto your side to rest your head on his shoulder.

“you okay?” he asked, still playing with your fingers.

“absolutely.”

“good.” he kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arm around you. “i’m glad you were my first.”

you looked at him. “me too.” he kissed you one last time before getting comfortable and closing his eyes, the two of you eventually drifting off to sleep.

[souichioneshots]

Grim Reaper 【Souichi x Reader】 (Fluff)

Souichi claims he's been cursed. Now everything he touches dies! However, that doesn't stop him from spending time with you. Can you hold back from touching the boy and dying? Let's find out~~~!! ahahaha

(I think this counts as affectionate!reader but idk lol)

Souichi carefully held onto the drink in his hand as he sat back down in between your legs.

Resting his body against your soft chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist. He was completely engulfed by your love. Although he was a bit embarrassed at first by how affectionate you could be, it had become a habit for him to want to be so close to you all the time.

【And now back to ‘DEATH’S ASSISTANT’】

Souichi took a sip of his drink as the show you two had been hooked on recently started back up.

It was a Japanese drama about a Grim Reaper who had been assigned a foreign assistant. Apparently, they fell for one another as soon as their eyes met. Every day they tell each other how much they love one another, but because of Death’s curse, he is unable to touch his love. The show depicts their everyday work lives. Showing how far they would go for one another to prove their love, but never being able to be truly affectionate. Souichi wasn’t really into these types of lovey-dovey dramas, but the supernatural antics that it included drew him in deeper and deeper.

【Assistant, we cant! You know if we touch, you’ll die!】

【I would risk dying a million times just to feel your lips pressed against mine even just once, Death~.】

“Guuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!”

Souichi laughed as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. The scene was so cheesy and overdone, but you loved it. For a morbid girl, you really were a sucker for love stories.

“You’re gonna miss the show if you don’t look up.” Souichi chuckle and patted your head.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you continued to watch the last few minutes left of the drama.

“Death really outdid it with his outfit today, huh?” Souichi commented.

In today’s episode, Death had been wearing a bright red suit with a black suit-shirt instead of his usual black suit and black tie.

“I think it really suits him.”

“You think everything suits him.”

“Of course. If you’re handsome, then anything and everything looks good on you.”

Souichi lifted his shoulder up towards his head, squishing your face against him.

“Owwww Owowowow!!”

“What’s so handsome about that old actor?”

Souichi finally released the pressure, allowing you to relax.

Pulling your head away from his body, you rubbed your cheeks.

“Hmm…Well, for one his eyes are absolutely beautiful. Thin, sharp, and the dark circles around them make him look so mysterious. And his dark, wavy hair looks so soft! I just want to run my hands through it as mess it up even more.”

Souichi couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you described what you found attractive about the ‘dreamy man’ on the television. He honestly felt like you were just describing him. He knew you must have a type, but he didn’t think it would be this similar to him every time. You must have felt like you won the jackpot with him.

“But what I really like is the fact that he’s always wearing a suit.” Wrapping your arms back around his waist, you squeezed him a bit “You can tell his assistant also thinks the same thing because she's always staring at him. She just wants to touch him soooo much. But she knows she'll die if she does! Haa~~ I love it!”

Souichi hummed in amusement as he listened to you speak.

Seeing that he fit all the other conditions you looked for in a guy, Souichi thought of a perfect way he could use this little fantasy you love so much for his amusement.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

When the next night came, Souichi quickly got to preparing himself. He had asked if he could go over to watch a movie tonight.

He usually didn’t pay much attention to what he wore whenever he hung out alone with you. But tonight, he decided to mix things up a bit.

Making sure he had everything he needed in his pockets, Souichi set off to your house.

Creepily excited laughter slipped from the boy’s lips as he walked down the street by himself. He couldn’t wait to see your reaction when you laid your eyes upon him.

Finally reaching your front door, he knocked.

“Good evening~” Souichi greeted as you opened the door.

Before you could greet the boy back, you froze. Your mouth gaped open and your eyes widened as you looked upon your boyfriend.

“S…SS..S-Suit..Suitsuitsuit…” You brought your hands up to your face, unsure where to place them. This was the first time you had ever seen him wearing such an outfit before.

Finally bringing your hands out towards Souichi, you tried to touch him.

“Ah!” Souichi quickly jumped back. “You can’t.”

A look of worry and confusion grew on your face as the boy rejected your touch.

“Remember when I called you this morning and said I might have messed up a curse?”

You shook your head yes.

“Well, it turns out that as a side effect, whatever I touch now dies almost immediately.”

Leaning against the doorframe, you looked at the boy with a smile of disbelief.

“You’re just copying ‘Death’s Assistant’ aren’t you.”

Souichi hated how well you could read him. But that didn’t mean he was going to admit that you were right. At least not right now.

“No! I swear.” Sliding one hand into his suit pocket, he leaned down onto the grass that covered your front yard. “Every time I touch something as delicate as a flower…” Pulling out his hand from his pocket, he placed it over a daisy that had been growing for some time. “Well... This happens.” Moving back up, Souichi revealed that the flower he touched had shriveled up and died.

“No way…” You whispered as he allowed the dead flower to trickle onto the palm on your hands.

“Yeah…It’s a bummer.” Placing his foot over the real flower still planted in the ground, he tried to hide the evidence. “But I’m sure this curse will wear off by next week. 2 weeks at most.”

You quickly moved to the side as Souichi let himself into your home.

“What are you doing? Wouldn’t it be dangerous for us to be together right now?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. As long as we don’t touch that is.” Giving you a smile, Souichi kicked off his shoes and made his way down to your bedroom.

As the raven-haired boy walked down the hall, he moved his hands close to the wall, just barely coming into contact with the wallpaper. He honestly thought it would be really cool if he could make the wallpaper roll up and crumble into pieces just from touching it. Just like in the drama. Perhaps there really was a curse out there that would give him that ability.

Finally reaching your room, he took ahold of the door handle and gestured for you to go in first. Being in a suit really did make him feel like more of a gentleman. It was kind of fun.

Sitting on your bed, Souichi watched as you set up the DVD player.

He tried to hold back his foolish laughter as he thought about how miserable you were going to be all night from not being able to touch him.

You. The girl who could barely go 5 minutes without at least leaning against his shoulder, was now being forced to keep her hands to herself in order to avoid never waking up again.

This was gonna be hilarious.

“So, lemme ask you.” You pulled the boy out of his own little world as you sat on the bed with him. “Why the suit?”

“The suit? Oh. Umm…” Souichi’s mind froze for a second. He was going to say an excuse that all his other clothes suddenly turn to dust when he touched them, but now that sounded extremely stupid and unbelievable. Especially since he was able to touch your bedsheets with no problem. “…To match the whole ‘death’ theme...”

“Oh~ That makes sense. Always gotta be prepared for a funeral when everything you touch dies, right?”

“Exactly!”

Souichi let out a small sigh of relief as you commented an equally believable reason for the suit. He was glad you were almost always on the same level as him.

Finally dropping the subject, you pressed the button on the remote for the movie to play.

Souichi tapped his finger against the bed in annoyance as you kept a good amount of distance from him. It didn’t seem like you would try to touch him any time soon.

Looks like he needed to take things up a notch if he wanted to have some real fun.

Leaning forward, he swiftly took off his black jacket. You quickly ducked as his hand almost came in contact with your head.

Leaning his arm on your pillow, he relaxed his body. A single nail stayed poking out from between his lips, making it look like he was smoking.

Souichi couldn't help but smile as he saw you take quick glances at him. Your eyes kept moving from his pants to his white suit shirt, and finally to his face. He could see a blush spread across your cheeks as you quickly turned away from him, avoiding his gaze. You looked completely head over heels for him.

Sliding to the side, you leaned ever so close to the boy.

“Does the ‘being killed on the spot’ rule apply even over clothes~?” A blush spread across his pale face as you whispered in his ear, making sure not to come into direct contact with his shoulder. He could see your hand hovering over his suit pants, craving to touch the expensive-looking material.

Did you really not believe him or were you just begging to die?

Moving a bit away from you, he replied. “Probably not a good idea. Haven’t tested that out yet…” He let out a little laugh as he mentioned how awkward it would be for him to have to wake up your family and tell them that he killed you by accident.

Souichi looked from the corner of his eyes as you let out a small sigh and moved back into your own little space. This sudden rule of no touching looked like it was taking a toll on you.

Honestly, he was expecting you to be a bit more excited by this situation. After all, this was one of your favorite fantasies. To love one another, but never be able to touch unless you were willing to die on the spot. You should be spewing cheesy lines like in the drama, not sulking.

Moving the nails against his teeth, he tried to think of a way to fix things. After all, this wouldn’t be fun if you got too sad and decided to stop acting like your usual self halfway through the night.

Moving his arm out towards you, he pulled on the edge of his suit jacket.

“I think it’d be fine if you held onto this though…” He turned his face to the side, trying to hide his blush as you smiled once again.

Throughout the movie, Souichi kept his arm up in the air as you happily held onto his jacket. His body felt oddly unsatisfied from not being properly touched by you. But, this was his own fault for deciding to go through with such a cold prank.

You both stayed surprisingly calm and silent as the movie played on.

Souichi kept the nails in his mouth pressed tightly against his teeth as he kept his eyes on the screen. The movie you chose wasn’t half bad at all. The effects, the props, the acting. All very realistic. To be expected from new foreign movies.

However, this feeling of calmness didn’t last long as an unnecessarily long make-out scene between the main characters had started up again. Another specialty of foreign horror movies. The acting for these scenes just had to be extremely believable as well…

Souichi tensed up a bit as he felt you let go of his jacket, finally allowing him to rest his hand back down near his body.

It wasn’t that he disliked these types of scenes. But something about watching them alone with you always made him feel a bit restless.

Souichi moved his legs closer to his body, trying to get in a more comfortable position. He really regretted starting this whole ‘touch me and you’ll die’ prank now.

Pulling on the black-tie wrapped around his neck, he tried to calm himself down.

“People get really horny right before they die, huh?…”

Souichi noticed you jolt a bit at the sound of his voice. All he got in response from you was a little ‘yeah’ and an awkward laugh.

As the teens on the screen started to undress, Souichi noticed you also start to fidget around in your spot. You looked like you wanted to sit closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t.

Shakily bringing your hand over his leg again, you whispered. “Are you sure I’ll die if I touch you over your clothes?...”

This time he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just moved his leg closer to you, giving you an okay to try and touch him.

He watched as you cautiously placed the tips of your fingers on his knee. You let out a sigh of relief as you realized you were going to die from touching him over his clothes.

Careful not to accidentally touch any part of his body not covered by his clothes, you turned towards his.

Pinching the fabric of his suit jacket, you pulled his hand up. Souichi’s heartbeat sped up as you moved his bare hand to touch your clothed breast.

“Looks like it works both ways. As long as your skin doesn’t come into direct contact with mine, I’ll be just fine.”

Souichi’s eyes followed your hands as they moved back towards his pants once more.

You were really pushing the envelope.

But, if you were gonna play like that, then he saw no harm in playing along as well.

Sliding his hand down from your chest to your waist, he pulled you to come closer to him.

“That means we can’t do anything more than this though…” Souichi whisper as he inched his face closer to yours. “We should stop now before we do something that can’t be undone.” He teased you with lies, practically ordering you to go further.

“You don’t wanna die from one of my curses, do you?”

“It’d be a blessing to die from one of your curses…”

Something within Souichi switched on as he heard you whisper your confession to him. That felt like the most romantic thing you'd ever said to him.

Without saying another word, Souichi pressed his lips against yours. To think he was the one who ended up not being able to hold back from you this time.

Suddenly, pressing your hands against his shoulder, you pushed yourself away from the kiss.

“Agk! My heart!” Holding your hand against your chest, you threw yourself back to lay on the bed. “I…I!!! Gah…”

Souichi couldn’t help but laugh as you pretended to die in an over-exaggerated manner.

You opened one of your eyes, looked at the boy, and then closed it again. Souichi could see you trying your best to hold back a smile as you laid perfectly still.

“You knew I wasn’t cursed the entire time, didn’t you?”

“...Was it that obvious?” You laughed a bit as you finally sat back up.

“When did you figure out I was lying?”

“Hmm~”

You just hummed and swayed your head side to side. Not telling him when you knew for a fact he was not actually cursed.

“If I can be honest, you should have said something more believable for the suit. Then maybe I would have believed you completely." Leaning up against the boy you thought for a second. "Like umm... All your other clothes disintegrated the second you touched them. But because you've worn this suit to a funeral before, it was the only thing that stayed intact."

"Ahh!! I swear I was gonna say that!!"

You let out a hum and looked at the boy once again with a smile of disbelief.

"I swear!"

Getting up from the bed, he put on his suit jacket again.

"Let's restart." He sat back down on the edge of your bed. "Ask me why I'm wearing a suit."

"Okay." You also moved to sit on the edge, next to him. "Hey, Souichi. Why are you--" Unconsciously, your hand brushed up against his. "AGK!" You threw your body back and pretended to die again.

"No!! Y/N!!" He picked you up by your shoulders and forced you to sit back up. "Again."

As his hands moved away from your shoulders, he accidentally touched your neck. Making you jump back again.

"Agggkk!!"

"Stop dying!!" He yelled as you held your hand up to your neck and pretended to choke and die.

Souichi let out a loud groan as you continued to laugh at his frustrated expression.

This prank wasn't as funny as he thought it would be.

[padme-parker]

Mizpah // the darkling x f!reader // ch 7

summary: You and Aleksander come to a disagreement discussing who should be able to wear Morozova’s collar. Zoya is put in her place. Alina has a talk with Baghra. 

warnings: swearing (I think??), violence, baghra being an old hag.

A/N: frfrfrfrfr sorry this took so long lmao, it was very unmotivated to finish. not proofread, I was halfway asleep when writing this so sorry for any mistakes. Listen to a great song while ur reading lol!

YOU thought back to what the letter in your pocket said, something had changed within Aleksander. Before he was the Darkling, he was your Aleksander. That naive, loving boy was now gone. Replaced by the rough shell of a man. He sought out the power to protect his people, power that you could wield.

“Aleksander,” His name left your lips in a hushed whisper, “..what if I want the stag for myself?”

“No, I won’t allow it. We have Alina for that.” His dark gaze bore into yours. His eyebrows scrunched together, suggesting the conflict within him. He wanted for you to have the stag, more than anything. But he wouldn’t let it happen if that meant losing you, he realized that now, centuries too late.

“I won’t allow you to put the life of my friend at risk.” You shook your head, Alina deserved to live a happy life with Mal. Far away from the war and the Little Palace. Somewhere far away from your Aleksander.

“So then you agree, it’s a risk. I’m not going to let you take it. Not when I just got you back.” He said, reminding you of the many times he’d lost you to the stag.

“Things are different now. We have better weapons. More Grisha willing to fight than ever. We even have two sun summoners.”

“The Fjerdans have a weapon that fired multiple bullets at once.” The haunting images of Mikhael and Dubrov being shot down entered your mind. They had been your friends too, even if you weren’t as close to them as Mal was. “And the Shu, they’ve always had far more advanced technology than us. Like I said, no one can know about you being a sun summoner.”

“But..” You longed to feel that giddy warmth you felt when you summoned, a glow that you could feel radiating from you. It was the same glow Alina had on her face whenever she summoned. The glow Zoya had when she used the wind to push you into that stone wall. You hovered one hand atop the other, waiting for something to happen. A simple spark, then nothing. A frustrated sigh left your lips.

“It won’t come that easily, my love. That’s why Alina and I must banish the fold together. Only then can we truly be together.”

“You said-” A memory comes flashing, candles and lanterns flickering. The two of you laid naked in a bed, a thin sheet covering you. His hand resting on your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. He whispered something into your ear, moving his hand from your hip to glide over your collarbones. You shiver at the memory. “You said that you and I were going to change the world. So what’s changed?”

“I thought that there would ever be only you and I. That there would be no others like us. But I was wrong, we have Alina now-”

“You have me! I didn’t know it until now, but you’ve always had me.” You raised your voice, startling him. “Do you tell the same thing to all the sun summoners you meet? Or was it just me and Alina, oh wait..” You scoffed out. This was ridiculous, you came here for the truth. Not to argue with an ancient man.

“It’s not like that, I thought I had lost you forever. I mourned you for centuries, even the day I met Alina. I mourned you until you finally returned to me.” He takes your face into his hands once more. You’d become increasingly aware of just how naked he was, you eyes darting down to the towel that was holding on for dear life. “I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning you again, knowing that you may never return.”

“Fine.” You weren’t giving up, not yet. But you didn’t want to spend another second with him when he was just a slip away from flashing you. You make your way to the door, but before you could even touch the knob, you're in his arms once more.

“Where do you think you're going?” His voice was deep, raspy. His hold on your wrist was gentle as he stared at you, waiting for you to answer.

“To sleep.” You said, as if the answer was obvious. “In my room.”

Aleksander exhales, heavily sighing. “You could stay here..” Even after centuries, you were still the one person who could make his heart flutter. The only one who could make him nervous. He didn’t show it visibly. But from the smirk on your face, he could tell that you knew the effect you had on him. “..with me.”

You observed his room, hexagonal in shape. All the furniture was black, keeping to his theme. Quite possibly the most horribly decorated room you’ve ever been in.

“Do you really live like this?” His room lacked the life and warmth you seeked. There were bookshelves that ranged from floor to ceiling. Images of a forest etched onto the walls. He may have lived here, but it was clear it wasn’t his home.

“Here? Yes. But I wouldn’t call this living.” He surveyed his own room, looking at everything from his bookshelves to his domed ceiling above his bed. “Just merely surviving. The Little Palace isn’t my home.”

“And what is?” You’d already expected what his answer would be.

“You.” He hears you scoff at his statement as he lets a smile paint his features. “Our home, just north of Kribirsk.”

“We have a home together?” You tried to imagine what it would be like, a comfy little cabin in the woods. The General you knew wasn’t one for modesty, he rode around in a black carriage for Saints sake. But maybe for you, he would have settled down for a simple life.

“Well, would you call a run down castle a home?” If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could visualize it. A stone castle overgrown with vines, some of the structures had tumbled to the floor. You could hear the rushing water in the background, most likely a river. Fields of lavender surrounded the castle. The lavender and honey bar of soap came to mind, he remembered what you smelt like. A smile came to your lips. “What, do you think that's funny?”

“No, it’s just..lavender and honey. You remembered.” You teased, using your hand to cover your mouth to subside the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

“Besides your belongings, it was the only thing that kept you fresh in my memory.” He walks closer to you, something akin to cinnamon, rain, and honey wafting towards you. Such a similar scent, but so different.

“Well,” You said, removing the gold kefta revealing the black slip on you had worn underneath, “If we’re going to sleep in the same bed, can you please put on some pants.” You set the kefta on a chair, feeling his gaze on you. His eyes taking in your form as you kept your back to him. The next thing you heard was the shuffling of his feet, then his towel dropping to the ground. Your eyes widened as you resisted the urge to whip your head around.

“You can look.” He said, but you knew he hadn’t even put on his trousers. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“I know that, but I haven’t yet in this lifetime.” You let out a nervous laugh as you toyed with the lace detailing of your slip on.

“We can change that now if you’d like.” This time, you whip your head around. You're thankful to see that he’s got his trousers on now, along with a shirt. The corners of his lips quirk up as he takes in your reaction, “I’m just kidding.” He said, followed by a whisper, “maybe..”

“No, no. You and I are just going to sleep together. I mean sleep in the bed together. As you know, like friends, but not friends-” You stop yourself before you could go on. “Aht, you know what I mean.”

“Are you nervous?” He questioned, his eyes looking at how you fidgeted with your clothes. “You always find something to fidget with when you’re nervous.” The statement made you drop the lace of the slip on, clasping your hands together behind your back.

“I’m fine.” liar. But who wouldn’t be nervous? This was the infamous Darkling, and you were going to sleep next to him. You reassured yourself that you weren’t like the others. How many of his flings did he invite to stay the night when he was finished with them? Probably none. Besides, you weren’t a fling, not even close to it.

“You know you can trust me, right? I won’t do anything you're not comfortable with.” You let out a hum as you made your way towards his bed. He copied your actions, lifting up the covers and getting in them. He patted the spot next to him, waiting for you to move. You go to take off your night slippers and place them at the foot of the bed, noticing that he had also placed his boots near the foot of the bed.

“So, that’s where I get the habit from.” You said as you got into the covers, sitting awkwardly next to him. “I assume I get my many habits from you then. Just not sure which ones.”

“There’s a long list of them,” The fidgeting of your hands and feet make him laugh, “That one, surely doesn’t come from me.” Before you know it, you’re encapsulated by his arms. You let out an oomph at the sudden movement.

“Comfortable now?”

“Very.” You replied as you snaked your arm across his waist, your head resting on his chest. Listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was your first time being in his arms, but it felt so natural to you. A memory from Caryeva surfaced, golden eyes that stared back at you as you melted in his embrace. You shook the memory from your mind, not wanting to think about him when you had Aleksander next to you. “Do you think we could visit the castle?” You whispered, playing with the fabric of his tunic.

“Anything you want.” One of his hands goes to your hair, gently playing with it. The other stroking the soft skin of your shoulder. It was a routine that came naturally to the both of you, as if the missing puzzle pieces had fallen into place. “That’s actually where I went for the week. I knew that sooner or later, you would remember me. I wanted our home to be just the way you remembered it when you arrived.”

“That’s very nice of you…” Sleep was finally catching up to you as the truth weighed heavy on your mind. Aleksander continued to play with your hair even when you saw the steady rise and fall of your chest, signalling you were asleep. Careful not to wake you, he kisses the back of your head with a smile. You were finally in his arms once more.

-

THE feeling of someone breathing behind you had pulled you out of your sleep. It wasn’t a situation that you found yourself in often. But the warmth he had been radiating had almost lulled you back to sleep, almost. The arm that was loosely thrown around your waist had pulled you closer until he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Good morning, my darling.” His deep, raspy morning voice had stirred something in your stomach, a fire igniting in your core. “How did you sleep?” You removed his hand from your waist as you turned to face him.

“Fine, now that you’re beside me.” You had to admit, it was weird sleeping in the same bed so soon after finding out the truth. But you didn’t want to take any moment with him for granted. “I had another memory come to me while I was asleep.” He urges for you to continue, “I think we were at the castle. The sun was setting, giving the room the most beautiful haze. There was no music playing, but we were dancing in each other's arms.”

You see him smile as you describe the memory to him. He abruptly gets out of the bed, only to offer his hand to you. You wearily place your hand into his, a giggle leaving your lips as he tugs you out of bed and into his embrace.

“There’s no music!” You said as he twirled you around.

“It didn’t stop us last time.” He swiftly replied before pulling you back into his arms, settling for a slow sway. You could feel the fabric of his trouser brush against your legs at his every movement. Laying your head on his chest, a feeling of ease overtook you. You closed your eyes as you got lost in his hold.

It was a feeling so foreign to you. All your life you had always been on edge, even as a child at Keramzin. You could never let your guard down. But with Aleksander there was a side to you that you never knew. One that allowed you to relax and finally be happy. It was a side that neither of your closest friends had seen, ever. When survival was always your priority, you were never given the chance to be at ease.

“Open your eyes.” Once more the room had been engulfed by your light. You looked at your hands as they were glowing, a shocked laugh leaving you.

“Are you doing this?”

He shook his head before replying, “No. This is all you.” You noticed the lack of his shadows in the room, signifying he had no part in what was happening.

“I thought you said it wouldn’t be easy for me to conjure light.” You closed your hands and watched as the light faded, the only indication that you had summoned was the glow on your face.

“I guess being at ease helped you. From here it should get easier by the day to call forth the light.” He explained, a prideful look on his face.

“Does that mean I can have the stag now?”

He lets out a sigh, “No, like I said. I won’t risk your life for the stag again.” His resolve remained strong, never once showing a change of heart.

“But I’m getting stronger, within months I’ll be able to summon at my fullest potential!” You insisted, keen on having the stag on you instead of Alina.

“The key word here is months, we don’t have that time anymore. I’ve already spent months training and mentoring Alina. The people are getting restless, they want to see the shadow fold gone. Immediately.” He responded.

You opened your mouth to reply, only to get cut off by the frantic knocking at the door.

“What is it?” Aleksander growled out, irritated by the interruption.

“Sir! It’s the girl! She seems to be missing. We’ve searched everywhere for her, General.” Fedyor’s panicked voice rang out. “I’m so sorry, I’ve failed you, General Kirigan.” You roll your eyes as you go to open the door. Probably not the smartest idea since you were just in your nightgown.

“I’m right here Fedyor, no need to worry.” He takes in the disheveled state of your hair. Not yet combed since you’d just woken up.

“Oh sorry, did I interrupt?” He sends you a suggestive wink, which he prays that the General didn’t see.

“No. In fact, I was just leaving.” You looked back to Aleksander, a bewildered look on his face. “Have a nice day, General! I’ll see you later for dinner, like we discussed.” You hoped he caught onto your excuse.

“So, you and the General..” Fedyor began, his shoulder bumping into yours in a teasing manner.

“We were just merely discussing plans.” You lied, which wasn’t very much far from the truth.

He gives you a once over, “in your sleep attire?”

“It was an urgent matter.” You replied, stilling as you remembered you had left your kefta in his room. You’d just have to fetch it later.

“I’m sure it was.” He snickered. Soon the two of you parted ways, you to your room as he went to combat training. You decided to get changed for the day. You put on your usual military outfit, along with your weapons strapped to you. It’s not like you needed them when you could summon the sun from the tips of your fingers at any given moment.

No one can know. His voice rang clear in your mind, reminding you to limit the use of your summoning. You flopped onto your bed with a sigh. You were in the Little Palace and still managed to find nothing to do. You remembered the books you had so carelessly tossed when you encountered the Apparat.

Reaching for one of the books, you began to read it. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you decided to put down the book. It had been intriguing, but the strain on your eyes was becoming too much. The sun was still shining bright, you decided that you could explore the grounds on your own.

You threw on your jacket, doubling checking to make sure you had your weapons on you. The cold winter wind nipped at your skin as you clutched your jacket closer to you, trying to maintain your body heat. You resisted the urge to join the Grisha as you walked past the combat training area. The thought of fresh air had been appealing, hoping that it would help clear your mind. But it did little to ease it. There were so many questions that you didn’t know if Aleksander could answer. Have you always been a sun summoner? Why wouldn’t Aleksander let you take Morozova’s collar for yourself? How long had it been since he last saw you?

Soon, you found yourself in front of a fountain, a bench a few paces away from it. The old pictures on the stone made you laugh, how wrong their story was. You knew Aleksander, or as they called him, the Black Heretic, had regretted creating the fold. He did so out of anguish, the loss of you becoming too much. Ever since then, the two of you had collectively worked together to destroy the fold. But it seemed like the Saints had other plans for you each time.

“Something funny, otkazat’sya?” Zoya’s voice boomed out from behind. You spun around, finding that Zoya had been accompanied by the oprichniki Grisha as well.

“Shouldn’t you be minding your business, Zoya?” You must admit, it was a lame comeback. But it was the first thing that came to mind.

“I’ll mind my business when you finally leave the palace.” She and the oprichniki took two steps towards you as you took a step back. “Why are you even here? What could the General possibly want from you?” She taunted.

“Well, there’s a long list. Would you like to know?” You didn’t wait for her to reply before continuing, “For starters, I’m not easy. Not like you.” Zoya raises her fist, nearly summoning before the oprichniki stops her. “The General actually enjoys my company, can you believe it! I don’t need to seduce him to keep his attention.” She breaks loose from the oprichniki’s hold and lunges towards you. Before she can even reach you, she has a pistol drawn to her head, your pistol.

“Take another step and you’ll see for yourself if the Saints are actually true.” You threatened. Zoya could have easily summoned air to misdirect the bullet, no one would see. “You know, after being reprimanded, I would have thought that you’d learn your place. But perhaps you haven’t, so let me remind you.” You put your pistol away as you approached her. She lets out a yelp as you grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to her knees as her eyes flew up to yours. Your other hand had a harsh grip around her jaw. “I maybe be otkazat’sya, but you’ll find that my aim is accurate. I make no mistakes, Zoya. Remember that the next time you try to cross me.” You released her as she fell to the ground, tears in her eyes. You didn’t know if they were from embarrassment or fear, it’s not like you cared either way.

“Well, well, well, just what exactly do we have here?” Aleksander’s form came abruptly from the forest, as if he had been watching his whole time and he just now decided to make his appearance.

“Nothing. They were just leaving. Isn’t that right Zoya?” You stared at her as the oprichniki helped her up, the two of them scurrying away, leaving you alone with Aleksander. “Pathetic, aren’t they? How long were you watching?”

“I saw them following you and decided to follow them. I knew you could handle yourself, but I wanted to watch the show.” He entwined your arms together as the two of you took the long way back to his room, a path where no one would be able to interrupt or spot you.

“Did you enjoy it?” You questioned, stroking the soft fabric of his kefta.

“Seeing you put Zoya rightfully in her place? Yes. Although I do wish it was you who was on your knees.” He suggested, making a gasp leave your lips. “Anyways, it was time to fetch you for lunch. I know you didn’t have breakfast, and you wouldn’t be able to last until dinner.”

“Why thanks for the concern, my knight in shining armor.” You looked at his outfit again, choosing to reword your statement. “Correction, my darkling in a black kefta.” Now that you were thinking about it, you’d never seen him in anything else but black. Sure there were some memories here and there of him in a different colored top, but he left those colors behind when he’d lost you.

“So, what’re we having for lunch today?” You asked, the two of you continued walking towards his room. There were no interruptions, no others. Just Aleksander and y/n, the way it had always been. The way it’ll always be, until eternity.

-

MEANWHILE in the sweltering heat of Baghra’s hut, Alina struggled to get a grip on her sun summoning.

“What’s wrong with you, child?” Baghra chided, the thought of hitting Alina with her stick had crossed her mind one too many times today. She was about ready to throw her into the fire pit.

“I’ve noticed something.” She began, “Ever since my friend arrived at the Little Palace, it’s like there’s a side of Ale..” Alina let his name die on the tip of her tongue, it felt strange to be saying his given name. “..there’s a side of the Darkling I never knew existed. She’s brought out something in him. Something I haven’t been able to do in the months I’ve been here.”

She felt something comparable to hatred flow through her veins. But she could never bring herself to hate you. Not when you were practically her sister. No- she hated the way she’d so easily given into the Darkling, and how easily he’d thrown her away. She hated herself for giving up on Mal.

“You must tell me child, what is her name?” Alina had never heard such urgency from the old hag before.

“Y/n, her name is y/n y/l/n.” Her eyes widen in shock as she sees the smallest smile come to Baghra’s face. “Do you need a healer or something? Why are you smiling?”

Baghra left Alina in silence as her mind whirled with the possibilities. But there was one echo that was louder than the rest of them: Hope.

-

Mizpah tags: @all-art-is-quite-useless @devilxangel @musicconversedance @parabatai-winchester@runawayolives​ @tartiflvtte @rbg1933 @thatguppienamedbae@batgal96​ @thebarisinhell99 @5hundreddaysofsummer​ @kaqua​ @queenseneschal @benbarnes-supremacy @princessofpersia96 @takethee @dontjinx-it @freakytillthemoon @amortentiaaaa@marvel-ousnesss @coolninjavoid @areomalfoy​ @pansysgirlfriend @universalirwin @leavejuliaalone @xx-winwin-wednesday-xx​ @honeyofthegods @lunamyangel @d-list-goddess​ @comphersjost @telepathdestiel @the-celestial-kitsune @thestoryofmylife9 @s-corpionem @pancakeisreading @sanna2020​ @secretsandtinyshadows @savannah-elliott @maliasblue @tea-effect @disneyandharrypotter @futuristicpinklemur @tanyaherondale​ @the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one @hxgreeves @yourboiialucard​ @thereeallink @ladyblablabla @wolfieellsworld​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @louweasleymalfoy @the-natureofme@itsloveroflife @oddlittleminx @within-thehollowcrown​ @itsfangirlmendes @heyyimlaynna @jgtfvhsg @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @auggie2000​ @itsnotquimey @jtownraindancer @sonnensplitter @sarcastic-and-cool @poulterfilms @spookybooisa @stickyknightflowerbailiff​ @hollandsweetie @yungkvte @evyiione @2023-padfoot @kawaiimarshmallow @nikki-sixx-is-daddy @sanktawylan @blackbirddaredevil23​ @athenamikaelson​ @mellifluous-cosmos​ @mylittlecrazyworldofinterest​ @iiclarixa​ @lcandothisallday​ @agent-jbarnes​ @cleverzonkwombatsludge​ @tiiffanym​ @spnstuff-mrvl​

Mizpah taglist closed for now </333

S.a.B. forever tags: @deceivedeer​

[waitimcomingtoo]

touch

chapter four: closure

Synopsis: you love him but you can never touch him

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

“Op. Timers up.”

You rolled off of Peter and reached for your phone to turn your alarm off, sighing sadly as you did.

“I hate that sound.” Peter groaned as he rolled onto his back. “That sound should be illegal.”

“Well if you feel that strongly about it, you can gather a group of strong willed individuals and start a petition.” You teased him as you sat up.

“Are you sure that was 20 minutes? That went by really fast.” He pouted as he rolled onto his side. He lazily played with your fingers as he looked up at you with puppy dog eyes. You sighed deeply, eyes filling with regret as you pulled your hand away.

“Pete.” You said apologetically. “It was 20 minutes. No more touching.”

Peter nodded in understanding and withdrew his hand, letting it rest on his chest instead.

“It’s not long enough.” He mumbled as he stared out the window. “No amount of time is long enough.”

“I know.” You agreed with him. “But it’s better than how we used to be. At least we get to touch now.”

“For less than half an hour a day.” He grumbled as he sat up, his mood entirely altered now.

“It’s for the best. You don’t even know what I’d do to you if I could touch you all day.” You smiled coyly, trying it bring him back to a good mood as you stood up on your knees and crawled towards him. Peter perked up with a curious gaze as he turned his body to face you.

“What would you do?” He cocked an eyebrow as he leaned towards you but didn’t make contact.

“I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You teased him before swiftly pulling away. Peter groaned and threw a pillow at you before his mood shifted.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.” Peter said apologetically as his eyes softened. “This is so much better than what we were doing before. I would prefer if I had all the time in the world to touch you, but I’ll take my 20 minutes. I’m lucky I get even that.”

You bit your bottom lip and checked your phone, seeing that it was two minutes past your allotted 20 minutes.

“We still have a minute.” You lied, focusing all your self control on not hurting him as you leaned in to kiss him. Peter eagerly kissed you back, rising on his knees to hold you closer to him.

“I love you so much.” He whispered against your lips. “I’m never going back to what we did before.”

“Me either.” You smiled fondly at him as you stroked his face with your thumbs. “Okay, times really up now. No more touching.”

Peter pouted and let go of you before flopping on the bed with a huff.

“No pouting either.” You teased him as you rubbed your aching temples.

“It would be a lot easier to stop touching you if you weren’t so pretty.” Peter chuckled as he watched you get dressed.

“Sorry about that. It’s all my fault.” You sighed dramatically as you pulled your shirt over your head.

“It is.” He nodded repeatedly. “It’s unbearable trying to resist kissing you every time you walk into a room.”

“I know the feeling.” You told him as you looked at him through the mirror on his dresser.

“Don’t look at me like that, peaches.” He warned. “The 20 minutes are up.”

“I know.” You smiled a little sadly. “I’m just looking.”

“I have to get to training.” Peter sighed as he checked his phone. “I’ll see you after, okay?”

“I’ll see you later, lover.” You blew him a kiss. He caught it, despite how corny it was, and held it against his heart.

“You make it so hard to leave.” He whined as he walked up to you, leaning his hands on either side of you but never touching you.

“Go. You don’t want to be late.” You reminded him playfully. “I’ll see you soon.”

“All right.” He jutted his bottom lip out. “Bye.”

As soon as Peter left the room, you ran to the connected bathroom and threw up in the toilet. You brushed your teeth with the toothbrush he had left there before sliding against the wall and putting your head in your hands. Your brain was pounding in your head, as if it had a heartbeat of its own. You rubbed your temples as hot tears of anguish rolled down your face, the pain worsening before going away.

~

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked once he noticed the pained look on your face in the living room.

“Nothing.” You shook your head as you sighed. “I just have a headache.”

“Again?” Bruce began to worry. “You’ve been complaining of one all week.”

“Yeah. I don’t know, it’s probably just a cold.” You lied as you adverted your eyes. Bruce didn’t buy into your lies and pressed a hand against your forehead. You immediately jumped back, fearful that you’d hurt him.

“Y/n, you’re burning up.” He really began to worry now.

“Careful, Br. Banner. It’s not safe for you to touch me.” You reminded him as you kept your distance.

“Could I run some labs?”

“Is that necessary?” You asked. “It’s just a headache.”

“You’ve only been using the stun gun once a week right? Like I told you?” He asked making you stop in your tracks.

“Yeah.” You lied. “Just once a week.”

“Alright, good.” He sighed in relief. “I made it with gamma radiation, you know. Too much of that will kill you.”

“Kill me how?” You wondered as your mouth went dry.

“Well, you were born with your powers.” He explained. “Your abilities are a part of your nervous system. Temporarily taking your powers away for 20 minutes holds up with nervous system. Too much radiation will slowly weaken you until you die.”

“Oh.” You nodded slowly. “I see.”

“But once a week is fine.” He assured you. “That shouldn’t do too much damage. It might give you a headache though. Would you mind if I ran some labs?”

“Sure. Whatever you need.” You said quietly as a panic set it. You used the stun gun 7 days a week and you we’re finally feeling the consequences.

“Let’s go.” Bruce escorted you to the lab.

An hour later, you left the lab with an anxious feeling in your tummy. You ran into Peter in the hallway and plastered a fake smile on so he wouldn’t worry.

“There you are.” Peter smiled as he approached you. “I burnt my hand on the oven again.”

“You did?” You worried as you tan to him. “Let me see.”

You took Peters hand in yours and squeezed it but didn’t feel his pain transfer to you.

“That’s weird.” You blinked in confusion. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Hm.” Peter fought a smile. “Weird.”

“You’re such a liar.” You playfully hit him when you realized his trick. “You didn’t burn your hand.”

“No. I just wanted to hold my girlfriends hand. I’m sorry.” He looked at you with his puppy dog eyes, still holding your hand.

“I forgive you but don’t do it again. This isn’t a game, Peter. I could seriously hurt you.” You reminded him. You began to worry he was gonna make a habit out of tricking you to touch him. You were feeling horribly sick, and you were a fast healer. You had no idea what would happen to Peter if you accidentally transferred your pain to him.

“I know.” Peter smiled apologetically. “I think I have a paper cut, though.”

“Where?” You raised an eyebrow, not believing him.

“My lips.” He said sheepishly.

“Uh Uh.” You shook your head teasingly. “Not fooling me, Parker.”

“I thought that would work.” He whined. “Fuck me.”

“Aw, I so would but we already had our 20 minutes today.” You teased him, making his jaw drop.

“That is not what I meant and you know it.” He narrowed his eyes at you. Before you could respond, you heard your name called from behind you.

“Y/n.”

You turned around, your smile immediately fading when you saw Bruce standing there with a frown.

“I’ll catch up with you.” You told Peter before jogging over to Bruce.

“Hi Dr. Banner.” You smiled weakly. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m so sorry.” Bruce whispered, looking incredibly guilty as he held your lab results in his hands.

“What happened?” Your mouth went dry.

“There must be something wrong with the gun. I must’ve calibrated it to disperse more gamma radiation than I intended. Your whole body is full of it. There should not be this much. I don’t know how this happened.” He apologized as a sick feeling settled in your tummy.

“Dr. Banner, it’s okay.” You assured him. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I must’ve gotten the calculations wrong or left out a variable or-“

“I use it everyday.” You blurted, cutting him off. Bruce’s face twisted in confusion as he processed what you said.

“What?”

“The stun gun. I use it everyday so I can touch Peter.” Tears came to your eyes as your confession came out. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“Y/n, your body needs at least a week to recover from a blast of gamma radiation.” Bruce told you. “That’s why I told you to only use it once a week. Your body can’t heal in just a day, even with your enhanced abilities. Every time you use the gun, you make yourself sicker. Your ability to heal quickly is the only thing keeping you alive right now.”

Your jaw locked in fear as the tears fell down your cheeks. You didn’t say anything as you sucked in a shark breath.

“Hey, it’s all right.” Bruce rubbed your shoulder. “My body is full of it too.”

“I’m so sorry. You told me it was dangerous and I did it anyway. I’m so stupid.” You whimpered as you wiped your face on the back of your hands.

“You’re not stupid. I’ve been here before.” Bruce sighed. “I pushed people away, even when I really loved them, because I was scared of hurting them. You’re not a monster for wanting to be loved.”

“Am I gonna die?” You whispered.

“I don’t know.” Bruce answered honestly. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Everyday for the last three months.”

“You should stop for at least 6 months then, and we’ll reassess then.” Bruce advised. You felt the air get knocked out of your chest when Bruce told you you wouldn’t be able to touch Peter again for 6 months.

“Dr. Banner, I can’t go back to how I was before.” You protested. “I can’t do that to Peter.”

“The only other option is poisoning yourself with the radiation until you die. I think Peter will understand.” Bruce told you.

“What about me?” You shrugged sadly. “What if I don’t understand?”

“Go talk to him.” Bruce advised. “Just have a calm, adult conversation.”

“Okay. Calm and adult.” You nodded. “I will.”

You immediately went to Peter’s room and knocked on his door, waiting to enter until he told you to.”

“Hey, peaches.” Peter smiled brightly as you shut the door behind you. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Peter we have to break up.” You blurted out, making Peter sit up and go to the edge of his bed. So much for your calm and adult conversation.

“What?” Peter’s face fell at your words.

“I…I did something really bad.” You shook your hands as you began to panic. You paces around his room as the guilt and anxiety ate away at you.

“Peaches, it’s okay. Talk to me.” Peter reached out to touch you but quickly withdrew his hands when he remembered he couldn’t.

“I lied to you.” You confessed as tears came to your eyes.

“About what?” Peter asked slowly as you stopped pacing.

“Dr. Banner told me I could only use the stun gun once a week. I knew it was dangerous to use everyday but I did it anyway and it’s killing me.”

“Killing you?” Peter’s eyes darkened.

“The radiation. Dr. Banner said if I keep using it, it’ll kill me. I’m so sorry.” You began to cry, wishing more than anything that you could reach out and touch him.

“Then we just won’t use it anymore, peaches.” Peter said calmly. “Not if it’s killing you.”

“But we can’t use it for at least 6 months.” You cried. “You said so yourself, you hated the way we were before. You don’t want to go back. So I’m letting you go. I’m not gonna make you stay in this relationship if we can’t touch each other.”

“Peaches, I don’t love you because I get to touch you.” Peter chuckled softly. “And don’t get me wrong, I love getting to kiss you and hold you, but just being with you is my favorite part. I can go another 6 months without touching you if it means you’re still my girlfriend.”

“But…but you said you’d never go back.” You calmed down long enough to realize Peter wasn’t mad.

“I’d never go back to us being just friends. I can go back to us not touching if it keeps you safe. That’s all that matters to me.” Peter promised you.

“Really?” You asked hopefully.

“Really.” He nodded. “I love you in any way I can have you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled gratefully at him before pulling him into a kiss. In the heat of the moment, you didn’t think about the pain you were holding inside and kissed him deeply. Peter kissed you back for just a moment before you heard a small gasp emit from the back of his throat. You felt him slid off your lips and opened your eyes to see him collapsed on the floor.

“Peter?” You asked as you knelt down beside him. You rolled him over and let out a gasp when you saw how pale he was.

“Peter?!” You shook him aggressively. “Peter?!”

When Peter didn’t respond, you let out a guttural scream for help.

“Dr. Banner!”

Bruce rushed into the room when he heard your scream, stopping shortly when he saw Peter.

“What happened?” He asked as he knelt down beside you.

“No no no the radiation.” You cried as you shook Peter. “I just gave him the radiation.”

“Okay, calm down. Let me get him to the lab.” Bruce instructed as he grabbed Peters feet. You hooked your arms under Peter and helped Bruce carry him to the lab. You laid him on the table and stood anxiously as Bruce hooked Peter up to a monitor.

“You said the only thing keeping me alive was my healing abilities.” You worried as you chewed on your nails. “He doesn’t have that.”

“But he has something like it.” Bruce reminded you. “He’s still enhanced. He might not die from this.”

“Might?” You whispered at the little hope he was able to offer you. Bruce gave you an apologetic look as he continued to work on Peter. You felt useless as you stared at Peter’s lifeless body until you got an idea.

“Wait.” You spoke up. “Let me take his pain. I’ve done it before.”

Bruce was quiet for a minute as he stared at Peter’s monitor.

“He’s not in pain.” He said quietly.

“He has to be. He has to be if I was.” You reasoned.

“Y/n, Peter isn’t in any pain.” Bruce repeated. You realized he had stopped working on Peter and felt a sinking feeling in your tummy.

“Why?”

Bruce looked away from the monitor and took his glasses off for full dramatic effects.

“Because he’s dead.”

“What?” You shrieked as all the color left your face.

“I’m kidding. Was that a bad joke?” Bruce grimaced as you gasped for air. “You can take his pain. It’s just gonna hurt a lot.”

You gave him a frustrated look before placing your hands on either sides of Peter’s face.

“Come on, Peter.” You willed him. “Come on, Spiderman.”

It took a minute, but his pain slowly drew out of his body and into yours. Your veins darkened to a jet black as the radiation seeped back into your body, making you let out a scream.

“Y/n, be careful.” Bruce warned as Peter’s vitals began to improve.

“It’s killing me.” You screamed in agony as the color began to return to his cheeks.

“Because it’s three months worth of radiation at once. You’ve been building it up.” Bruce grimaced when he saw the toll it was taking on you.

“It hurts so bad.” You cried.

“It’s almost all out.” Bruce told you. “Just hold on a little longer.”

“Dr. Banner, I need you to do something for me.” You said breathlessly, your body beginning to shut down.

“What is it?” Bruce asked.

“I need you to recalibrate the stun gun to permanently remove my powers.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “Why?”

“So nothing like this ever happens again.”

“Then you can’t be an Avenger.” Bruce protested.

“But I can be a human being.” You shouted. “I want that more. I want that most.”

“But-“

“Please.” You cried. “Just do it.”

“Okay.” Bruce agreed. “I will.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I’m gonna pass out now.”

“Okay.” Bruce told you, but you had already hit the floor.

~

Once Peter’s vitals were stable, Bruce transferred him to his own room. As soon as he was awake and responsive, you went to visit him.

“Hey.” You greeted Peter in a soft tone as he woke up from a nap.

“Hi peaches.” Peter lit up when you sat on his bed. “I’m surprised you came to see me. I’m…I’m really glad you did.”

“Why wouldn’t I come to see you?” You smiled teasingly

“Dr. Banner told me what happened.” Peter admitted. “I thought you were going to blame yourself for what happened and be too scared to come near me.”

“Are you scared that I’m near you?” You asked him softly as you kept your eyes down.

“No.” Peter shook his head immediately. “I want you to be near me.”

“Good. I want to be near you too.” You chuckled as you laced your fingers through his. Peter looked at your hands in happy shock before giving them a squeeze.

“You’re touching me?” He asked happily.

“After what happened, I had two options.” You explained. “I could’ve shut you out to ensure I never hurt you again, or I could make sure I never hurt anybody again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had Dr. Banner remove my powers.” You smiled sheepishly. “I told him to take them all away, but he found a way to let me keep the healing aspect. I can still heal, but I can’t hurt.”

“You had him take away your powers?” Peter asked in shock as he sat up straighter. “Why?”

“Because human beings need to be touched.” You shrugged. “I didn’t want to live without that anymore. I didn’t want to be allotted 20 minutes a day to touch the boy I love.”

“You did this for me?” Peter asked fondly as you stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“No.” You shook your head. “I did this for me. I didn’t want to worry anymore. I wanted to be free.”

“So this means…” Peter raised an eyebrow. You nodded a little before leaning in to kiss him, feeling weightless as the fear of hurting him was long behind you.

“It means we get to do this all the time, lover.” You whispered against his lips. “Anytime we want.”

“Anytime we want?” He asked for comfirmation.

“Yup.” You popped the p for emphasis.

“In that case.” Peter raised an eyebrow. “What were you saying before about what I couldn’t handle?”

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[theladyofdeath]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 4}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

Word Count: 2550

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Apollo

– God of light, prophecy, inspiration, poetry, the sun, music and arts, medicine and healing

Aelin tried to convince herself that she got up and got ready two hours early for class because of her busy schedule. She kept telling herself it was for the meeting she had with her advisor, about a possible internship at the end of the semester.

She knew that both reasons, while extremely important, were full of shit. She knew she’d showered, blow dried and curled her hair for Rowan. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him. She’d already done that and the chance she had to be with him had come and gone.

No, now it was about proving to him that even though this class may be a gen ed, she was taking it seriously.

Dropping the class had crossed her mind. She really didn’t need to take it, she could still find a different one to pick up. But she didn’t want to think about the sort of impression it would leave about her.

If there was anything to know about Aelin Galathynius, it was that she was not a quitter, nor did she run from her problems.

Or heartaches.

With one last look in the mirror, and a whistle from Lysandra, Aelin was out the door and hurrying across campus. She grabbed a coffee on the way, but avoided her usual place, knowing full well that Rowan enjoyed the same famous cafe that she did.

He wasn’t there yet when she got to the hall, but she took the same seat she had the class before.

She wondered if Rowan would be looking for her this time.

She quickly shook the thought away.

With her hot coffee on the corner of her fold up desk, she was pulling out her notebook and a pen, waiting anxiously for class to begin.

For him to walk through the door.

Apparently he liked to be right on the dot, though, because students continued to wander in, but he did not.

She was tapping her pen against her notebook, doing her best not to stare at the clock. She was just anxious for her day to start. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Rowan.

Professor Whitethorn, she amended in her head. She had to quit thinking of him as Rowan. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore, his body pressing into hers, lips on her neck, as he—

Shaking her head, Aelin sighed and suddenly realized that the rest of the class had hushed. She was so focused on reprimanding herself for her highly inappropriate thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come through the door and begin setting up for class. When she dared to glance towards the front, she found his eyes on her. He quickly looked away, going back to his laptop and setting up the PowerPoint on screen.

Maybe he hadn’t been looking at her.

Maybe it had all been in her mind.

But she didn’t think it had been.

He had been watching her.

“Happy Thursday, class,” he began, as the title page of his presentation flashed onto the board. “Glad to see you all showed up again. Must mean my first class didn’t suck.” Quiet laughter thrummed through the room. Aelin couldn’t muster a laugh, though. “On Tuesday, we covered the basics. So, today… Sorry, we’re doing that again.”

More laughter, especially from the pretty, flirty girls up front.

Aelin couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Which, when she settled her eyes back on Rowan, he definitely saw.

Come on, get your shit together, she chastised herself. With her back straightened, she gave him her full attention.

She took dutiful notes, but his slides didn’t hold much in the way of information. They were mostly headers, with a few bullet points. Most of the important information, information she knew would be critical for homework or exams, came straight from Rowan’s mouth.

It was clear that he loved mythology, that it wasn’t just a class his aunt had tossed his way and told him to figure it out. He was a trove of knowledge and she noticed he had a habit of going on slight tangents when he got going on a topic he was clearly interested in.

After a student asked him to clarify what he meant about Hercules not being Zeus’ only son, he ended up talking for nearly twenty minutes about what the beloved Disney movie had gotten wrong. Aelin had stopped taking notes and was watching him go on and on about how Hades, while god of the underworld, was not necessarily a villain. He just had a job to do. A job that had rules that must be followed, or the consequences could damn not only him, but others involved. His eyes found hers again and the amused smile on her face fell as she made the correlation between their own situation and the story.

They held each other’s gazes for far longer than was appropriate, and Rowan cleared his throat, going back to the PowerPoint, and the  predetermined lesson plans he’d made, which didn’t include children’s movie breakdowns.

She watched him.

She listened.

And she found it all fascinating. 

Rowan peeked at the clock after going on and on, and stilled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’ll end there. There is an assignment due by tomorrow evening. You can find and submit it online. It’s an opinion piece. I want a little insight as to why you were so interested to take this class, or what you’ve found fascinating so far.” He sat on his desk, his legs hanging over the side, his feet nearly touching the ground as he leaned back on his palms. Aelin found it charming. “You’re going to write a short essay telling me of your favorite deity. It could be one I’ve talked about so far, or one I haven’t. It’s your choice. But, tell me why they are your favorite. Give me a little depth. And, remember, this is a college course. Grammar counts.”

The clock struck nine-thirty and everyone began packing up. Aelin had been so captivated by his voice that she had to snap herself back to reality.

She quickly packed up her bag, alongside the other students around her. She noticed then how young they all were, and she was willing to bet that she may be the only senior on the roster. As she was descending the stairs, she found Rowan’s eyes on her again, but he looked away as his attention was taken, thanks to the group of girls who’d been sitting in the front row. She heard vague questions of whether they could all write about Aphrodite, since they all related to her.

The scoff Aelin thought she’d kept to herself had apparently been out loud, since not only Rowan looked at her as she passed, but so did the three girls. With his attention on her again, she decided to give him a little wave.

“See you later, Professor Whitethorn.”

If there was some extra sway to her hips, it wasn’t on purpose.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Two and a half hours later, Aelin was starving. She’d just gotten out of an extremely complicated lab and she could barely focus over the growling of her stomach. Twice, the instructor had looked over at her, half expecting to find a dog stashed under the table she was working at.

So when the class let out, she was hurrying toward the cafeteria ready to get a salad from the salad bar and a big ass slice of pizza.

It was all about balance. 

As she was waiting in line to fill her plate with salad, she heard a voice behind her.

“Are you actually getting lettuce or just filling your plate with ham, cheese, and croutons?” 

Aelin looked over her shoulder to find Chaol, her ex, suppressing a smile.

Aelin chuckled. “If it’s the same price, you may as well pile up on the good stuff.” 

Chaol gave her a small smile. “Fair enough. It’s good to see you, Aelin. You look good.”

Things hadn’t ended the best between her and Chaol, but that had been just after freshman year. At least now when they ran into one another, they could have nice little conversations like this one.

No hard feelings.

“You too,” she said, and he did. He’d been in an accident the year before. They weren’t sure he was going to walk again. In all honesty, it was just good to see him on his feet.

“How long until your class?” He asked, sliding his tray along behind hers.

She glanced down at her watch. “About forty five minutes. You?”

“This is my long break,” he sighed. “I’ve got an hour and a half, but didn’t feel like leaving campus. Want to have lunch with me?”

“Sure.” Her smile wasn’t forced, it was easy and she was glad they could even do this, when three years again, they could barely be in the same room.

“I assume you’re getting a piece of pizza after this,” Chaol said with a smirk, nodding towards her plate. “So I’ll grab us a table while you get the rest of your lunch.”

She scoffed but nodded, and went off to get a slice of pizza. When she ordered her pizza, she also got a slice of cheesecake. It was his favorite, something she hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t hurt that she liked it, too.

Finding him in the cafeteria, she sat down at the table across from him. “How’s Yrene doing?”

He blushed, and Aelin had to admit it was adorable. After his accident, he’d fallen for his physical therapist, and she was just as smitten with him. It must have been all the one-on-one sessions, because Chaol had never been one to let someone in. Aelin had met Yrene early in her med classes, but Yrene had specialized in PT and graduated in less than three years, taking as many classes as she could manage and even studying through the summers as well.

“It’s going good,” he said, at last. “We, uh, just moved in together, actually.”

Aelin lifted a brow. “That was fast.”

Chaol shot her a look.

Aelin laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, good for you. I like Yrene. A lot. You two are good together.”

Chaol cleared his throat before taking a bite of his salad. “Thanks.” 

Aelin chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.

Chaol blinked. “What?”

“You get so uncomfortable when it comes to feelings,” she said. “Always have.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “That’s not true.”

Aelin stopped mid-chew and raised a brow.

Even Chaol couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about you? Seeing anyone?”

Aelin hesitated, then said, “No.”

A slow grin appeared on Chaol’s mouth. “Didn’t sound so sure about what one.”

Aelin shrugged. “Better be nice or I’m not sharing this magnificent cheesecake with you.”

Holding up his hands in placation, Chaol went back to his salad. Rowan was a dangerous topic, one she wouldn’t share with anyone but Lysandra, so she summed it up quickly. “Met someone I thought I hit it off with. Turns out we didn’t work.”

He slowly nodded. Aelin knew he’d had a couple failed relationships between her and Yrene. “I get it, I’m sorry. Still sucks.”

Shrugging again, she turned to her salad. “It happens. Not a big deal. So if you’re living with Yrene, does that mean you and Dorian broke up? Or is he playing house with you, too?”

Chaol leveled her with a look. Chaol and Dorian had been best friends long before they came to the University of Orynth. They were both from Adarlan, both trying to get away from overbearing fathers, and decided college across the country was the way to do it. They’d been roommates every year and Aelin couldn’t even imagine Chaol living with anyone except Dorian. But now he was. “He moved into an apartment with Manon this semester when I moved in with Yrene.”

Aelin blinked. “Blackbeak? He moved in with Manon Blackbeak?”

Nodding, Chaol went on. “Apparently, they’ve been dating for about a year, without anyone noticing.”

Something in the way he said it told Aelin that he had noticed, but when Dorian had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. And apparently, he’d decided to date one of the most terrifying women on campus.

Aelin’s response was eloquent. “Wow.”

Chaol grinned. “I like it when you’re caught off guard. It’s satisfying.”

With a scoffed she nudged his leg with the toe of her sneaker. “Well, I don’t. Dorian will be getting a very angry phone call this afternoon.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a warning,” Chaol promised.

Aelin chuckled, taking the last bite of her pizza. “It’s good to see you all happy, though. Really.”

Chaol’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Aelin.”

She nodded. “Even if I am terrified that Dorian will get eaten alive.”

Chaol laughed, and she had forgotten how nice Chaol’s rare, hearty laugh was.

She meant it. She was so happy for them, both of them. It was interesting how things changed over the course of a few short years.

Their conversation continued, as did the laughs, and before she knew it, Aelin glanced down at her watch. She had less than fifteen minutes to haul ass back to the nursing building for her next class. Chaol, who had much longer to sit with nothing to do, assured her that he could handle her trash and told her to get to class. With a hug, and a promise that they’d have dinner soon, all of them, even Manon, Aelin was hurrying out of the cafeteria building.

Somehow, the entire time she’d been having lunch with Chaol, she hadn’t noticed the set of pine green eyes watching her.

Rowan’s own break had been at the same time as hers, but the gen ed building was much closer than wherever she was having to run off to, so he had longer to sit and— there was no denying it— brood. They were halfway across the room, so he couldn’t hear any of their conversation. He had no clue who the tall man was she smiled at so often, but clearly they were very familiar with each other with how easily they talked. And he made her laugh. A lot.

Rowan wasn’t sure why that was what grated on his nerves the most, but it unsettled him.

Seeing Aelin with someone else, someone clearly her own age, it all unsettled him. He didn’t like it. Almost as much as her parting words in class had.

See you later, Professor Whitethorn.

It’s like she was mocking him, yet at the same time, she clearly wasn’t. She was doing exactly as he’d asked of her, seeing him as her professor, not as her boyfriend.

No, he reprimanded himself. Not boyfriend. Hookup.

They’d had sex one time, that didn’t give either of them any claim over the other. It was a hookup and nothing more. And she was his gods-damned student.

She was off limits, in every way possible.

Yet he couldn’t figure out why seeing her with someone else, someone she should clearly be interested in instead of him, had him seeing red.

[alrightberries]

three weeks

❈ pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

❈ genre: angst. ❈ word count: 1.9k

❈ summary: “It’s been three weeks, and Levi still lies to himself when he says he’s okay.”

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of violence, death and gore. explicit description of panic/anxiety attack.

a/n: i’m not sure what... this is since i just randomly started typing it but hopefully y’all still like it.

He could still feel you.

Feel your presence in his room; in his hollow heart. With every shallow breath he took he swore he could still feel your warm palm on his skin, gently patting his shaking shoulders.

The clothes you'd left behind were still in his closet. The little notes you'd scribbled to him on random days still compiled. The letters you wrote sit heavy in a wooden box inside his bedside drawer.

He once complained that they created clutter in his room when you started slowly moving your things into his private quarters. It started off with clothes left on his unmade bed and eventually ended with you bringing your hygiene products to his personal bathroom. Slowly but surely, you moved in. Slowly but surely, you cemented a place in his life where you'd already cemented a place in his heart.

But now glancing at your shared bed, half empty, he simply couldn't find it in himself to do anything about your ‘clutter.’ It was, after all, all he had left of you.

The pillows on your side of the bed still smelled like you. The cotton where you slept countless nights before had a slight depression, an imprint of your body on the mattress. Faintly, if Levi closes his eyes, he swears he could still feel your fingertips running through his scalp as you peppered sweet little kisses onto his calloused skin.

His own fingers reach out and grasps at air where your beautiful face should be, sleeping peacefully next to him. Snoring. Twitching your eyes when you had nightmares. Him gently shaking you awake and holding you close to reassure you that everything was okay, whatever you dreamt of wasn't real, and he'll be here to make the darkness go away.

Yet his own darkness starts to eat at his conscience. He curses at his hands for even having the audacity to reach for you when it was these same hands that signed your death certificate earlier in the day.

Three weeks.

That’s how long it's been since he woke up next to you. Since he bid you good luck before breaking into formation as you crossed the walls and rode your horses through titan country.

It’s been three weeks since you were separated from your squadron. Since they came back from the expedition and he'd only noticed you weren't there when they finally reached the walls. Since he searched through countless corpses and severed bodies, trying to find your own.

It’s been three weeks since he's pushed off on signing the "M.I.A. - PRESUMED DEAD" document with your name and information printed at the top before he was forced to come to terms with your fate when the second search party once again came back empty handed.

It’s been three weeks since he last cracked a smile. Since he lost the last reason he had to strive forward. Since he lost the last reason to hope for a better place; a better future; a small home in the suburbs to live out the rest of his life with you.

It’s been three weeks since he last heard your voice. Since he rested his cheek against the palm of your hand. Since he first picked up a bottle of bourbon and let the alcohol numb his distressed mind and aching heart to the reality that you were gone.

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks, and Levi still lies to himself when he says he’s okay.

A breeze passes through the open window, snapping him from his thoughts. Goosebumps form on his skin but he couldn’t bring himself to get underneath the sheets or close the window because he tells himself that the breeze was you. It was you, checking up on him, scolding him for drowning his sorrows in bottles of brewed brown, wiping away the tears he didn’t even know he’d shed as the pain of loss and mourning— the very things he’d been trying to outrun— hit him all at once.

He closes his eyes to stop more tears from falling. But he knew he was really doing it because he found darkness more comforting than having to look at your shared room. Not when you weren’t there to make the darkness go away when he opened his eyes. Not when every little thing reminded him of you.

The chair in the corner where you always sat, reading under the dim glow of candlelight. The shelves full of books, an impressive collection you’d both amassed throughout the years. Even the porcelain cup that sat on his bedisde table reminded him of you. It was a gift you’d given him when you were both still in the Underground. A cup matching his own sat on your bedside table, that much he already knew without having to open his eyes. He brewed you a cup of tea hours before going on the expedition that would seal your fate.

His skin tingles when he remembers the way you held his hand as you both sipped tea on that day. You were sat next to each other on the bed. He was reading the newspaper and you were reading a book, intertwined hands resting in the space between your bodies.

A new wave of tears threaten his eyes and he hears himself sob before he realizes the tears have fallen again. His hands clutch at his hair, pulling at the strands, and he lays on his side to curl up into a ball as he wills himself to stop, be quiet, and stop being so weak.

His heart began to speed up and his ears began to ring. He couldn’t focus. It was so noisy— everything was too much. The was talking. So much talking.

shut up. be quiet. leave me the fuck alone.

Levi realizes that the talking was his own conscience degrading him, and he wonders if he’s finally snapped. He heaves and gasps for air, trying to get his mind to shut up, but it only serves for the noise to get worse and suddenly the ringing in his ears turns into static. His heart begins to thump louder, and he’s accutely aware that he was having a panic attack.

Pathetic mewls leave his lips and his hands reach out to your side of the bed out of habit, just as he’s done plenty of times before. Only this time he doesn’t feel your fingers gently grasp at his shaking wrists to pull him to your chest, to hold him and whisper sweet nothings into his ears to calm him down. Instead, he grasps at white fabric, and he lets out a frustrated growl when he once again feels air where you should be.

Unfair. It was unfair.

It was unfair how you were taken away from him so easily. How he hadn’t even noticed until it was too late. How he didn’t have a body to mourn, knowing you were either rotting away in a forest or disfigured in some titan’s belly.

Levi cracks open his eyes and his gaze lands on splotches of wetness on his pillow, the marks of his sorrowful tears. He sniffles, telling himself there was no need to be so pathetic when soldiers died everyday. He repeats it to himself like a mantra.

But then, he thinks, you weren’t just any other soldier. You were y/n— his y/n. The owner of his heart. The love of his life. The one who kisses his forehead good morning and good night. Who held his hands underneath the table before giving him a knowing glance, like you were sharing a secret that only you two knew of. Who would slip little notes into his pockets when you thought he wasn’t looking. Who sat with him in silence and calmed him down when emotions got the better of him. Who held him close and tight on nights like this, when the crushing reality of pain and loss finally broke him. And the sickening irony of needing you the most because he was mourning your death almost made him want to laugh.

He doesn’t know how long he stayed there. Unmoving. Curled up into a ball on your side of the bed, nose digging into the sheets to find comfort in the remnants of your scent as he hugged himself to slowly calm himself down.

Suddenly, he hears the door to his office burst open and rapid footsteps approaching his room. The wood slams against the wall, and his reddened eyes meet the wide and panicked ones of a soldier he’s seen in passing. She’s breathing heavily like she ran a mile to get there, sweat dripping down her forehead as she frantically looks around in search of the captain before finally landing on the man in question.

“Captain Levi, we—“ She’s cut off when he heaves a loud sigh, slowly sitting up and rubbing his red puffy face.

“Has there been a breach?” He asks. His voice is hoarse, she notices. The tone is calm but his eyes are angered, clearly not amused to be interrupted when he was mourning, and the soldier visibly gulps as she replies.

“N-no, Captain.”

“Are there titans anywhere in the walls?”

“No, but sir we—“

“Has anyone died in the few hours that have passed since dinner? Choked on their own spit, perhaps?”

“Well, no. But—“

“Then why the hell are you here?”

“Captain I was—“

A thought crosses his mind and he clicks his tongue in irritation. “Tch, did shitty glasses send you?”

“...yes but—“

“Tell four-eyes to stop sending people to check up on me.” He murmurs, beginning to lie down. “I’m allowed some goddamn privacy the night before my fiance’s funeral.”

“Yes but, sir, that’s actually why I’m here.”

“Whatever motivational words you have to say, save it for someone who cares.” He pulls the sheets above his head. “I’ve had enough pity-filled glances and half assed condolences thrown my way to give a damn—“

“Captain Levi, Y/N is alive!”

The soldier doesn’t know what’s happening until her back is abruptly slammed into the wall behind her and pain shoots from her spine to the back of her head. Hands are tightly wrapped around her throat in an ironclad grip, and her feet are dangling from the ground. She gulps.

The captain’s face is mere centimeters away from hers. If she thought he looked angry before, then the scowl he gave her now made it look like he was smiling just moments ago.

“What kind of sick joke do you think you’re playing, huh?” He sneers. “You think it’s funny to make fun of someone’s death?”

She tries to reply but only choked sounds escape her lips as her fingernails claw at her captor’s hands. Tears blur her vision as the Captain tightens his grip, but the way his eyes almost glowed a bright red— the clear intent to murder if she so much as breathed out of line— didn’t go unnoticed to her.

“Do you get some fucked up kick out of this?” He asks again. “You get a kick making fun of a man who’s lost everything?”

He loosens his grip the slightest, and the soldier is momentarily releived when she realizes she could finally speak.

“N-no, sir, I—“

“Levi, let her go!” Another frantic voice pleads with him from behind. “She’s telling the truth.”

Wait, what?

“What?” He chokes out. His grip loosens on the soldier and she slides to the ground in relief, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Hange cautiously walks closer, almost scared that any sudden movements would put Levi in a state of shock. They slowly, warily place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s true, Levi. Y/N is alive.” The Section Commander murmurs. “Your Y/N is alive. They’re looking for you.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Word Count: 4,364 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader Gender: Female Era: CDC A/N: A bit of mmm mmm mmmm, a bit of angst, a happy ending. What more could you possibly want? 

Warnings: None really! Language

Your name: submit What is this?

Hot water. Hot water. You gasped at the delightful sensation as it cascaded over you, shutting your eyes and letting it run over your face and down your shoulders. You couldn’t stop smiling. You had a stomach full of food and wine after three days with nothing but water and you were standing beneath a torrent of heat, rinsing the dirt and grime from your skin and hair. You scrubbed your scalp with your fingernails until it was red. Your fingers trailed over your bare skin, rubbing at new scars and wounds tenderly, tracing old scars, washing the walker blood and the sweat down the drain. You felt like a new person when you stepped out onto the bath mat and wrapped a towel around yourself.

You dragged a comb through your hair, doing your best to work out the knots and snarls without ripping them out. You almost didn’t recognize your reflection. Clean. Flushed cheeks. A smile. You took in a deep content breath and pulled on clean clothes. There was a delightful buzz in your head from the wine and you could think only of one particular member of your group; Daryl.

You knew it was probably the wine giving you manufactured confidence, but in the safety and wonder of the CDC building, in the afterglow of the joyous meal you had just had with your collected family, you didn’t care. You were going to be brave and quit the dance the two of you seemed to have been doing around each other for months. You went in search of the archer and found him in the room he had claimed, just one door down from yours.

He was clean too. Though, admittedly, you never had minded him coated in dirt and oil and grime. His ruggedness was part of what attracted you to him and his toned, muscular arms were extra distracting with a sheen of Georgia humidity on them. But this clean version was good too. It was the first time you’d really seen him this way. You stopped at the threshold and leaned against the doorframe, peering in at him. His back was to you. He was fiddling with some of his gear. You could see his shirt clinging to the moisture left on his skin from his shower.

“Hot water,” you said in disbelief, drawing his attention to you. He turned and took in the wide smile on his face, his heart jumping. It’d been too long since he’d seen it. He reached a hand up and rubbed absently at the ache in the middle of his chest.

His lips pressed together, his teeth finding the bottom one and chewing it slightly, a habit you always found incredibly endearing. “Mhm,” he hummed.

You took a few more steps toward him. “I can’t even remember the last time I was this clean. Or this full,” you mused.

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Or this drunk,” he added. It drew a laugh from you that seemed to bubble up and light your face.

You sighed, regarding him thoughtfully. “Yeah. True.”

He resumed his anxious lip-biting. “What’re ya doin’? Everythin’ alright?”

He was always doing that—checking on you, seeing if you were okay. But you didn’t answer. You just caught his blue eyes and held them and Daryl watched something shift. If someone had asked him to explain it, he wouldn’t have been able to, but he saw it plain as day. He felt his heart start to race as you stepped closer to him, smoothly closing the space between the two of you until you were less than a foot apart.

The archer was watching you carefully, his eyes a little guarded, narrowed in intensity as he tried to anticipate your next move. But he couldn’t have. You studied his hesitant expression. Daryl watched you pull your bottom lip in between your teeth. His heart was pounding now. He could see every fleck of beautiful color in your eyes. You reached a hand up and gently clasped his face, your thumb stroking over the stubble on his jawline. He flinched away in surprise and his brow furrowed more deeply, but you only waited and replaced it.

Daryl’s chest was heaving a little now with nervous breaths. “What’re ya doin’?” he rumbled softly. He watched the ghost of a smile curve your lips and gently crinkle the corners of your eyes.

You smoothed your hand down one side of his strong chest, holding his questioning blue eyes. Daryl felt a warmth trailing behind your fingers that was impossible to ignore. You rested your palm against him, feeling the strong expansion of his lungs with every breath. “Isn’t it obvious what I’m doing?” you asked, your eyes wide and innocent as Daryl puzzled over you.

You felt him twinge away, withdrawing slightly, as a flash of skepticism veiled his blue eyes. “You’re drunk,” he growled.

You shrugged. “Only a little. And that doesn’t mean that I don’t want this, that I haven’t wanted it.” You didn’t mean for it to come out in a whisper but it did, and that seemed to thicken and charge the air between you two. It was now crackling with electricity like the air before a lightning strike.

You watched him gulp, but he didn’t withdraw from you again. “Want what?” His eyes were still so shielded, fortified with caution. Yours flickered between them and then down to his lips and back up.

“Want you,” you said matter-of-factly.

His breathing quickened even more and he stepped away from you. You felt a lurch in your stomach as the space grew, feeling each inch profoundly. But he wasn’t running scared. He simply strode across the room and gently shut the door, glancing back at you. This time his gaze was less guarded, but more doubtful. He nervously licked his lips and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His hand clenched and unclenched anxiously.

He stood there staring at you like you were a riddle he was trying to solve and you realized he needed you to break that barrier. He wasn’t willing to trust his own desire alone. He needed you to show him for it to be real. You crossed the room to him again and stepped close, your bodies almost touching from knees to nose. You arched up onto your toes and slowly looped your arms around his neck. You wondered if Daryl could hear your heartbeat; it was loud in your ears. He watched you close your eyes, your long eyelashes fluttering. His own eyes closed as your lips met his. It was a gentle kiss—slow, sweet, almost hesitant, but it still set you ablaze. Warmth bloomed from your chest and spread outward.

It took only a split second before Daryl’s hands were on your lower back and he was yielding to his longing, letting go of his disbelief. His hands pressed you against him and the intensity grew as he kissed you back hungrily, almost feverishly, like this was something he had been waiting for too long. You smiled against his lips and let out a noise of pleasure, your fingers stroking through his hair as you happily leaned into him and eagerly moved your lips with his.

The intensity only grew and you let out a noise of surprise as Daryl suddenly picked you up. You wrapped your legs around him and kissed him harder, dragging your teeth gently over his bottom lip, eliciting a chesty growl you could feel reverberating in your chest. You felt giddy, intoxicated by him and he was hungry in his need for you. He carried you over to the couch, your lips not breaking until he collapsed down on it with you beneath him. You let out a laugh of surprise and finally pulled back to look up at him, biting your bottom lip, unmistakable want in your eyes. His were searching your face. His cheeks were a bit flushed as he leaned over you.

“Ya sure?” he asked in a gruff whisper, making you laugh again.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Daryl Dixon.”

His name falling from your lips was intoxicating and he eagerly pressed his lips to yours again. This kiss was insistent, fiery, and you gave into it completely. His fingers found your hip and clasped it gently while he tangled the other in your hair and ran his fingers down the side of your neck, his rough fingers exhilarating on your silky skin.

It wasn’t long before you were feverishly pulling off each other’s clothes and then just skin on skin, pressed together with gasping breaths and noises of ecstasy, giddy laughter. You were lost in each other for a long time before you collapsed with one another, glistening skin and rushing hearts. You lay on top of him, your head resting on his chest, listening to the strong rush of air and his now slowing heartbeat. You lifted your head to look up at him and Daryl’s heart jumped at the megawatt smile and the light in your eyes. How was it possible that just happened? How was it possible you were looking at him like that?

“What?” he asked, his fingers trailing lightly over the skin on your lower back.

“Nothing,” you said. “I’m just happy.” You captured his lips again in a kiss and settled back down against him. “Might need another shower,” you said. “Worked up a sweat.”

Daryl’s palm flattened out on your back and the fingers of his other hand trailed down your arm. “Hell yeah,” he said. You looked up in time to catch a glimpse of the smirk on his lips. He nudged his nose up at you and you grinned.

“Better shower together,” you said. “You know… the doc said to take it easy on the hot water.”

His eyebrows lifted as he looked at you, slightly shaking his head in happy disbelief. “Ya ain’t gonna find me arguin’,” he said.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the shower.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You slept deeply, contentedly, that night for the first time since the world had turned. Daryl’s arm stayed draped over you all night as you slept up against him. But when you woke up the archer was gone and you were alone on the couch, covered over with a blanket.

He was usually an early riser, so it was no surprise. You threw your clothes back on and smoothed your hair in the mirror, relieved that you weren’t hungover. You were sure some members of your group were probably in a world of hurt following their overindulgence the previous night. You couldn’t stop smiling and your heart was fluttering as you thought back to Daryl’s lips on yours, his hands wandering over your bare skin, feeling the soft curve of your hips and the angle of your spine. You went in search of him and found him alone in the rec room, seated on the edge of the couch with his crossbow over his lap.

His back was to you and you draped your arms around him from behind and leaned into him. “Good morning,” you said softly.

But far from what you had expected, he jumped up and away from you like he’d been burned. The expression on his face was stern, hard. You stared at him in puzzlement, your brow drawing down over your eyes. “What’s the matter?” you asked him quietly, your heart dropping into your stomach.

“The hell ya doin’?” he asked harshly, pacing in front of you like a caged animal.

Your lips parted to answer but you hesitated. “W—what do you mean?”

“I mean ya comin’ in here and throwin’ ya’self at me. Huh? The hell d’ya think this is?”

You felt the breath go out of your lungs and all you could do was stare at him in confusion. “I don’t—”

“Look, last night was just last night. We were both drunk,” he snapped. “If ya want somebody ta hold your hand and tuck ya into bed at night, why don’t ya go try Shane or T-dog.” He watched your expression change and the muscle in your jaw tensed as you clenched your teeth together. You were doing everything you could to prevent the hot sting of confused and angry tears in your eyes from spilling out.

“What’re you—Why’re you saying this?” you asked. Your voice was low, flinty.

He scoffed and turned away from you. “Ya heard me! What more is there to explain? Get on outta here,” he barked.

You drew in hurried, shaky breaths as you stared at the back of his broad-shouldered frame. “You fucking asshole,” you growled. Daryl listened to the sound of your retreating steps and then the slamming of a door as you closed yourself into the room you apparently should have just stayed in the night before.

Eventually Daryl made his way out into the kitchen area and sank into a chair, though he didn’t touch any of the food. Lori was looking around, taking stock of everyone and their condition and she noticed your distinct absence. “Hey, has anyone seen Y/N yet today?”

Andrea hummed a no and Glenn shook his head through a hungover wince. “No. Maybe she’s worse than I am,” he said miserably, eliciting a chuckle from T.

“Nobody is worse than you are,” T laughed.

Lori looked right at Daryl. “Ya haven’t seen her, Daryl?”

“Why the hell ya askin’ me? What am I, her goddamn babysitter?” he snapped. Rick looked up in surprise at his tone, and an uneasy, muted silence fell over the group.

“Geez, what’s your problem this morning?” Dale asked. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

Daryl stood up abruptly, his chair sliding and clattering backward loudly. “Somethin’ like that,” he said angrily. The group watched as he stormed out, exchanging bewildered and confused glances.

“The hell is his problem?” T asked.

“Who knows. It’s Daryl…” Andrea said.

The archer rushed down the hall and back to his room, stopping when he saw the door standing wide open. The blanket he had covered you over with was spilling off the couch and down onto the floor and he gulped as he remembered the feeling of you beneath his hands, your lips on his neck, your fingernails trailing down his back, the staggering light in your eyes as you looked up at him.

He was terrified.

He was used to being terrified in some sense. He worried about something happening to you every minute of every damn day. A walker, an illness, a simple accident—anything could happen. But he could worry from afar. From that distance, he could still tell himself that it wasn’t a big deal, his feelings weren’t real. He had no claim to you. But what had just happened between the two of you had made it real. And yet, on some level he still couldn’t believe you felt that way about him. It didn’t make any goddamn sense. He had been steeling himself for you to come tell him it was a mistake since he woke up before sunrise. He’d convinced himself to say it first, because then it wouldn’t be you hurting him. He’d convinced himself that you’d be relieved. Afterall, there was no way you really wanted him in that sense. You were just awash in the glow of wine and food. You’d change your mind in a minute. Better just to get the whole thing over with. But when he’d recoiled from you, you hadn’t been relieved. You’d looked—devastated, confused, and then angry.

Daryl grabbed his head in his hands and scruffed them through his hair. “Ya are a fucking asshole,” he murmured to himself. Fuck. He should have just stayed away from you. Now he’d made a giant goddamn mess.

And then things started to go sideways in an even bigger way. Dale had asked that question of the doctor, about the countdown that burned red on the wall and the answer had been an explanation which, when simplified, was impending death. You’d all perish in a flash of fire as the CDC was destroyed when the generators ran out of fuel. And when he heard that, Daryl could only think of one fucking thing; you.

Rick and Shane were yelling at Jenner, everyone was reeling, but Daryl simply took off toward your room. The door was closed and he stopped in front of it, his chest heaving from his sprint through the building. He stared at it for a long moment, guilt consuming him. But he raised a hand anyway and knocked hard.

There was no response. He knocked again. “Y/N?” he called out.

“Go away, Daryl.” Your voice from behind the door.

Daryl mentally kicked himself again, feeling his stomach twist. “Ya gotta—ya gotta come outta there. We have to figure out how ta get the hell outta here.”

The last thing you wanted to do was talk to Daryl right now, but there was something desperate, frantic in his tone. You gulped down your pride and heaved a heavy sigh. I must be out of my goddamn mind, you thought to yourself. But you walked over to the door and pulled it open anyway. He had been leaning heavily on one forearm against the doorframe, but he straightened immediately. You only needed to glance at his face to see that something very serious was going on. There was fear in his eyes. “What’s going on?” you asked softly.

“No way in hell I’m lettin’ us die in here,” he said, his blue eyes wide as they connected with yours. He reached out and grabbed your hand, starting to tug you along with him but you ripped it from his grasp. He turned back to look at you.

“You think you can just come back here like—like none of that happened?” you asked, aghast. “And what the hell is going on?”

Daryl stalked back toward you, angry now that you were wasting time with obstinance. “This whole damn place is gonna blow as soon as the generators run out of fuel. We ain’t got time for this right now,” he said, he grabbed your arm to tug you along.

“Daryl, stop!” You ripped yourself from his grasp again. “You said so yourself; I am not your damn problem,” you said harshly. You stalked past him, shooting him a look that was sharp at first, but pained as you met his blue eyes.

He raced after you as you ran to join the others. Lori was trying to comfort Carl and she gave you a panicked look as you came in. You knelt down next to her and rubbed Carl’s back. “It’s okay. We’re gonna figure this out,” you murmured. Daryl stood a few feet away anxiously biting the inside of his cheek. You stalked over to Rick and Shane who were arguing with Jenner.

“Hey, hey, hey!” you yelled over the commotion. They all stopped. You shot a glare at Jenner. “There are kids in here,” you said.

Jenner simply stared back at you. “I know. It’s better to go this way. It’ll be instantaneous. No one will feel any pain.”

“That isn’t your choice to make! But if you won’t help us, we’ll figure out our own way out.” Your jaw was set as you turned to Rick and Shane. The next half hour was a blur. Screaming. Yelling. Arguing. Running. And finally, the explosion byway of grenade that shattered the glass window that allowed you all to escape. The smell of rotting death was pungent from the corpses lying outside like scattered mannequins. You sliced your palm open climbing through the window, but you hardly felt it. You raced to the RV and turned back in time to watch the whole building be consumed in a massive explosion with a fireball that rocked the RV. Jenner and Jackie were gone along with it. Your throat tightened as you watched the scene.

This world was cruel. To have gone from such depths of desperation, to heights of joy and relief, and back to such lows again in so short a time… it was almost unbearable. You felt someone beside you and turned to see that Daryl wasn’t watching the remains of the building crumbling and burning, but that his blue eyes were fixed on you and the softness you had seen in them the night before, the softness you had expected this morning, was back. You looked away, unwilling to hold his gaze.

“Y/N—you’re bleedin’,” he said. His deep voice was quiet but the gravel in it was heavy.

You looked down and saw rivulets of crimson running off your fingers, dripping to the floor, and creating dark, splashed droplets. You stared down at the gash on your palm. You couldn’t feel it. All you could feel was a heavy ache in your heart.

Daryl gulped at the lump in his throat and gently touched your arm. “C’mon. Let’s take care’a that.”

Your eyes turned back to his and your expression was sad this time—not angry, not sharp, just sad. “I can handle it,” you said quietly. And then you turned and walked down the steps of the RV, heading for the empty seat in the car Rick was driving. Daryl ignored the questioning glances from the rest of the group and slammed a frustrated hand against the wall before bolting after you.

Lori was stepping out of the passenger seat with some first aid supplies when Daryl strode up, a frantic, twitchy energy consuming him. You didn’t even glance at him as he stopped beside you. “I need ta talk ta ya,” he growled.

The muscle in your jaw tensed. “Not now, Daryl. I’m really not in the mood,” you said quietly.

“Here, I got this,” he said gruffly, taking the gauze and alcohol pads from Lori. She gave you a hesitant glance.

“Are you alright?” she asked. You sighed heavily and nodded.

“Fine. Just—It’ll just be a minute,” you said. Lori slipped back in the car and Daryl led you a few steps farther away, out of earshot.

He opened up an alcohol pad swept it over your palm, wiping the blood from your fingers and disinfecting the gash. You were refusing to meet his eyes, opting instead just to stare down at your hand, your teeth clenched.

Daryl ripped open a gauze pad and pressed it over the cut. He wrapped your hand with a section from a roll of gauze to hold it in place. When he was done, he didn’t let go of your hand and you finally couldn’t help glancing up at him. His blue eyes were already on your face.

“You’re right,” he mumbled.

“About what?” Your tone was detached, frustrated.

“We gotta get a move on!” Shane yelled from his window. “Let’s go! Every walker in the city will be comin’ here after that!”

“Just give me a goddamn second!” Daryl roared back. He looked down at you, his face a little contorted as he tried to find the words. “You’re right about—about me being a fucking asshole,” he murmured.

Your brow contracted and you stared at him.

“I didn’t mean anything I said to ya this mornin’. And—And I meant everything, everything last night.”

“Daryl, I can’t do this right now—”

“No! I can’t let this go another minute without settin’ it right. We almost just died! I just—I couldn’t believe that ya… wanted that. With me. I just thought you’d wake up this mornin’ and realize you’d made a mistake and I—”

“A mistake?” you interrupted. You sighed heavily and shook your head at him. “It wasn’t the wine, or the safety, or the food, or the hot shower… Those things helped me finally act on it but—it’s you. Daryl, I’ve wanted to—to be more with you for months.”

He just stared at you, dumbfounded, his face held in a slight wince as he thought about his harsh words to you that morning, out of fear and a desire to protect himself against what could happen. “Me too,” he admitted.

“Then what the fuck?!” you said exasperatedly.

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I told ya. I’m a fuckin’ asshole. And—M’sorry.”

“Good!” you said urgently. “Don’t fuckin’ do that again!” He watched, puzzled, as you walked over toward Rick and Lori’s car again, his stomach sinking. But in a second you were back and staring up at him. “Well, I’m riding with you. Let’s go before those undead fuckers show up.”

He stared at you a brief moment in surprise before one corner of his mouth quirked up.

He nudged his nose up at you and led the way over to his bike, helping you climb on.

Lori and Rick exchanged a look. “Guess we know why Daryl was so pissed off this morning. Those two obviously had somethin’ goin’ on,” Rick drawled. Lori nodded and smiled.

“Looks like they made up.”

Rick laughed and shook his head. “About time. How long have they been tip-toeing around each other? A month?” he asked, putting the car in gear and pulling away from the curb.

“Longer,” Lori said. She reached over and rested her hand on Rick’s leg. No one knew where you would go, or what would come next, but at least you had each other.

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

hugs + inarizaki

headcanons for the miya twins, ojiro, kita, and suna

a peace offering because i absolutely will not be active for this week and the next uwu ❤️

miya atsumu

Being playful and teasing, Atsumu loves giving you surprise hugs. Whether if it’s behind the back tackles or just picking you up and swinging you around like it’s nothing, nothing gives this man more joy than making you yelp and squeal. 

Hugs with Atsumu are lively and almost never a quiet and boring time. Whenever he comes home from a work-out or practice sweating bullets, he’ll find you and scoop you into his arms all while you’re squealing and protesting. He secretly uses this as an excuse to get you in the bath with him after. 

“You’re getting your sweat all over me-”

“I guess we both have to shower now. Damn, that sucks.”

On the weekends when Atsumu can sleep in, he likes to keep you in bed with him for a painfully long time. He knows you’re awake, and so is he, but nothing makes him happier than clinging onto your middle as you’re squirming to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes when he notices that you’ve had a bad day, his hands will wander to your sides mid-hug, and he’ll tickle you until your giggles fill the room.

He’ll never end the day without a proper cuddle, though. He likes having you in his arms while he’s watching plays or a TV show with you resting your head on his shoulder or chest. Once in a while, he’ll lean down to give you a few kisses on the cheek, but the moment you return the favor, he’s instantly distracted and turns whatever he’s watching off.

miya osamu

He’ll never express it to you directly, but Osamu’s heart flutters every time you hug him from the back while he’s cooking, especially during slow mornings where neither of you are in a rush to go anywhere. Just slip your arms around his waist while he’s scrambling eggs, and you’ve won his entire being over.

He finds it endearing if you don’t let go as he moves around the kitchen, just waddling behind him and trying to follow. Oftentimes, he’ll feel playful about this and tries to move around quickly to see if you can keep up. His soft chuckle gives him away though.

This works in reverse too if you happen to be the one that’s cooking. He’ll  rest his chin on your shoulder to peek at what you’re doing. Humor him by acting confused, so that he’ll reach over and help you. He knows you’re joking, but he’s still more than eager to cook with you, since it’s really the best of two worlds for him.

Unlike his brother, his hugs are very much calm and relaxed. He’s the type to hug just for the sake of hugging and for physical contact rather than teasing you for the most part. When the two of you are in bed together, he likes wrapping his arms around your waist with your back pressed into his chest. There’s something about smelling your hair that’s so calm to him. Plus, it’s easier to whisper into your ear like that.

He knows it’s unhealthy, but Osamu lives for midnight snack sessions with you. There’s something so therapeutic about you feeding him chips in his lap with his arms tightly around your waist. If he he’s having a bad day, this is a sure-fire way to cheer him up.

ojiro aran

Aran’s the type who sees hugs as a type of liberation, but even though he likes giving and receiving them a lot, he’ll always ask for permission first. No matter how long the two of you have been together, he needs the affirmation that you’re comfortable with him touching you before doing anything at all. 

He’s also scared that he might come off as too clingy when he’s hugging you for a while, but if you continue stay in his arms even after his grip has loosened, it makes him feel so warm and appreciative of your affection. 

He’s not the type of person to enjoy messing around given his exasperation whenever either of the Miya twins open their mouths, so cuddling time is soft and peaceful. He’ll ask you about your day always before talking about his own, but he’s not against complete silence either. He likes listening to you breathe, and if you end up falling asleep, he’s over the moon. Seeing that you can become comfortable and relaxed around him to the point of just dozing off is literally his favorite sight.

Despite enjoying peaceful moments, he’s not entirely opposed to banter, especially if you incorporate things you’ve memorized about him into it. For example, if you end up teasing him about how his favorite food is Ritz Crackers, he’s not focused on your teasing but rather the fact that you bothered to remember his favorite food. 

He’s a little bit of a hoarder too, so cuddling sessions are warm and comfy. He has a multitude of blankets and pillows in his home that he should’ve tossed out ages ago, but if you happen to like them, he’ll wash them properly and put them to proper use. He’s comfortable whenever you’re around, but he wants to guarantee that you feel the same way too.

kita shinsuke

Kita is a man of habit and routine; therefore, he’s up at dawn right when the sun rises and back home from work when the sun sets completely. During both these times, he also has a few minutes scheduled in for a ‘good bye’ hug and kiss and a ‘welcome home’ hug and kiss from you. His day doesn’t start until he gets to wrap his arms around you for a brief moment, and his day of work never feels like it has ended until you greet him at the door with your arms open. It’s like clockwork.

He’s always very busy, even during the weekends, but he always keeps a close eye on you to see how you’re holding up. Like Aran, he always asks for permission before hugging you, and during the rare instances where he does have some free time, he likes to indulge a little bit longer in your embrace. 

Kita’s ideal type of date night is cooking a hearty meal with you and then having you sit in his arms outside while enjoying the brisk night air. He likes it when you run your fingers through his hair, but he even likes it more when you let him press soft kisses all over your hand and face. He says he does only does what he has to do, but for you, he’s willing to go the extra miles to keep you happy. He’s very much an overachiever when it comes to your affections and you. 

He’s not really sure why he finds your hugs and hugging you so addictive. Sometimes, under the blazing heat of the sun, he thinks about how it’d be so much better if the two of you were in each other’s arms inside the house even though he’s sweating bullets, and he finds the idea ridiculously amusing. He thinks it might be because of the hugs his grandma gave him as a child and how he always felt safe and content in her arms. He wants to give you the very best, and in his mind, a safe haven where you can smile and relax completely is the best he can offer.

suna rintarou

Like Atsumu, Rintarou’s very much a tease, but he’s sly and more consistent about it. Rather than being energetic about it, Suna’s all about lazy hugs. Whenever it’s late at night, he’ll casually pull you into his arms and bury his head into your neck, and if he isn’t too tired, he’ll breathe the lightest breaths against your ear just to tickle you. 

He enjoys doing the smallest things just to fluster you, so if you feel his hands start to wander very, very slowly, it’s probably him waiting for a reaction from you. He’ll stop and sigh if you don’t give him a reaction, and he’ll probably pout in your arms for a while before thinking of some other way to provoke you.

His signature hug is lazily putting his arms over your shoulders or around your middle with his head resting on the top of your head or on your shoulders. He does this honestly whenever, especially when the two of you are home, and you’re just walking around.

He never expresses it verbally, but this is his way of expressing that he’s feeling a little needy, neglected, or touch-starved. Doing it once or twice briefly is just him trying to make doing laundry a harder time for you, but if he continues to let you drag him around the house, take a quick break to give him kisses. He’ll act as if he never asked for them, but he just likes being spoiled.

That doesn’t mean that he never gives though! He’s a man who empathizes with those who feel exhausted after being annoyed by others, so if you come home all gloomy and depressed, he’ll have you lie down with him either on the couch or on the bed with on arm stroking your head and the other rubbing circles on your back. He’ll proceed to let you vent and will roast whoever gave you a hard time into oblivion. 

[lumosinlove]

Cw: mentions of drugs and mentions of past abuse

Previously On Relic Keel

Remus has started to associate sailing with Sirius Black ever since Sirius told him he watches his boat every morning. He thinks about how tired he is of knowing everything there is to know and wishes to leave the island.

Remus also starts his new job at the Hogwarts History Museum where he meets up with his friend Layla, whose family runs the museum, and whose brother, Lyall, Remus races sailboats against. On his way there, he reflects on the divide between Salazars and Godrics. He remembers Sirius at school, and how he was either celebrated or shunned with seemingly no pattern.

After their first shift at the museum, Layla takes Remus to The Lion for lunch, chastising Remus’ prejudices, and introduces him to Leo. Remus sees Leo’s rainbow bracelet and thinks about how badly he wants a boyfriend. We also learn that Luke is also gay, but that he and Remus have always been just friends.

Logan arrives at The Lion, too, is introduced, and listens in on Remus finding out a new exhibit on madness at the museum—the Lupins are known for going insane, but Remus’ mother mentioned nothing to Remus about this exhibit.

Leo learns that Logan is looking for someone (Finn). Logan reflects on a sleepy feeling that seemed to go away with his escape from the orphanage. Leo offers Logan a job, if he wants, and also tells him about The Voldemort.

The Voldemort is a boat from the eighteenth century that is said to have sank in The Cradle, a U shaped arrangement of islands just off of Hogwarts Southern Coast. Leo’s dad was close to finding it. Leo feels like he should want to find it, too, for his lost father.

Saint and Sirius arrive. Saint and Logan see each other for the first time in almost ten years, since Saint escaped when he was seven. Logan tells him that Finn got him out and Saint finds out that Logan sells Crucio.

Pascal, who owns the Lion with his wife Celeste, is introduced. He’s very close with Saint and Sirius, and he apparently knew Leo’s father before he went missing at sea. Saint learns that Logan is staying with Leo.

James and Remus arrive, looking for Dorcas who Thomas said might be selling Crucio to Luke. They’d like her to stop and are willing to pay. Logan takes advantage of this and, although he doesn’t sell to Luke, cons James out of 200 bucks.

Saint learns that Logan has gotten tangled up with The Carrows, the more dangerous of the two Crucio dealers, the other, safer one being Kasey Winter, in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out. Instead, he’s in their debt for using their Crucio himself.

Logan slips and calls Saint Bash. Saint refuses to help Logan get Finn out.

A/N: I super don’t speak Latin. And neither do my trees.

part v

Dorcas watched as Saint took his book from the floor of the back seat and flipped his sunglasses down.

“How long?” he asked. “And how do I keep getting stuck with this job?”

“Because Sirius is a better surfer than you are,” Dorcas replied. “And you know what, you can take off. Her parents are out of town for the weekend so her dad won’t be coming home or anything.”

Saint paused and raised an eyebrow. “And so I just drove you because…”

“I didn’t feel like walking?”

“Clever gal.”

Dorcas smiled. “I know.”

“Whatever, I need the car anyway.”

“What are you up to? I thought you were working at the Potters.”

“Just Sirius today,” Saint threw his book back into the rear seats. “I’ve got some detective work ahead of me.”

“Does this have anything to do with that little friend of yours that Sirius told me about?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Of course he told you.”

“You know you two can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Don’t I.”

“See you later, babe,” Dorcas opened her door.

Saint gave her a salut as she headed around towards the dug-out fence.

Marlene had her paints out and her hair up in a bun when she pushed the window up and open for Dorcas.

“Luke’s here,” she said, and rolled her eyes as she turned away.

Dorcas froze in the window frame to see Luke with his feet crossed, laying on Marlene’s bed.

“Okay,” Dorcas said. “Can he leave?”

“Hey,” Luke said. “Cousin privileges.”

“Girlfriend privileges,” Dorcas said, shutting the window behind her. “Plus, can’t you go, like, toss a ball at a net with a stick or something?”

Luke rolled his eyes—not unlike his cousin. “I’m on a rest day. Plus, I’m off the team.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dorcas raised an eyebrow.

“He’s just getting out of the house for a bit,” Marlene said with a pointed look that Dorcas understood as he’s getting away from his mother. 

“Plus,” Marlene continued. “He’s a good cover story.”

“I thought your dad wasn’t here.”

Marlene shook her head. “Came home early. Guess his newest gal pal didn’t like golf. He’s over at the club now.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Luke asked. He had reached over to the bedside table and put a bowl of what looked like mango slices onto his stomach. “With you two, I mean.”

“I am his little princess,” Marlene said dryly. “Not to be dated.”

“And a Salazar girl who lives in The Hollow?” Dorcas shook her head. “No deal.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Like that’s never happened before.”

Dorcas snorted and sat on the bed, too, stealing a few pieces of fruit. “Like you’re any better than the rest of them, Deveaux.”

“I am,” Luke said. “I don’t hate Salazars.”

“But you hate Hollows.”

Luke grinned. “I don’t hate them, either. They hate me, and what am I gonna do about their jealousy? That’s their issue.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Dorcas sighed.

“He’s really not though,” Marlene stepped back as she regarded the painting she was working on. Luke’s face looked back out at them from the canvas. “He just likes to make-believe.”

“Could have fooled me and my friends.”

“He’s a great actor,” Marlene agreed, then stuck her tongue out at Luke. “I just happen to have known him before he learned how.”

“All right, fuck you both,” Luke grumbled, and ate another piece of mango.

“Believe me,” Dorcas said. “We’re not jealous of you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you wish you didn’t have to sell Felix to make a little more money?”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Like you and your money live such a great life.”

Luke looked away, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” Dorcas said. “I’d take Crucio and the friends I have over that any day.” After a moment of hesitation, she looked down and mumbled. “And by the looks of your little habit, so would you.”

“Fuck you, Meadowes,” Luke snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All right, all right,” Marlene said, tilting her head as she added color to Luke’s cheeks in her painting. “Cool it, kids. Take a chill pill. Knock it down a notch. Luke, why don’t you go get us some pizza or something? Or maybe pick up from Thomas’. I crave his nachos, holy cow. Also, tell him to come hang out later tonight, if he can.”

Luke held Dorcas’ eyes for a moment, then pushed himself up from the bed. “Pepperoni, you?”

“Pineapple and ham, thanks,” Marlene said, and smiled at Dorcas as she patted his back out the door.

“Hi,” Marlene laughed once the door closed behind him. She walked into Dorcas’ arms. She took Dorcas’ face between her hands and peppered kisses to her mouth. “How are you?”

“Worried about basically all of our friends,” Dorcas laughed. “And that one, I guess, too.”

“Tell me about it,” Marlene sighed, laying down on the bed and eating a slice of mango. Dorcas mirrored her position. “No, seriously, if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. I mean, I’ve got Luke who, one, needs to get out of his house, and two, needs someone to love, like, God, I wish he had a boyfriend. I just want him to get off this island, go to college, and meet the sweetest human in the world, you know?” Marlene sighed again, eyes far away. “He doesn’t act like he deserves that, but…it’s really his family he didn’t deserve. He’s all torn up about his dad, but his dad’s…a schemer. You know? And his mom, don’t even get me started.”

“Maybe he can still meet someone here,” Dorcas replied, and reached out to brush Marlene’s hair away from her face with a smile. “You never know. We didn’t. How long did we spend on this island without knowing each other existed?”

Marlene’s smile faltered in a way that Dorcas was beginning to recognize. It worried her.

“What?” Dorcas asked softly.

Marlene tilted her head. “Hm?”

“You keep doing that,” Dorcas said, tracing a thumb over one corner of Marlene’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marlene said. “I was just thinking about Luke. I mean, my parents sucks but at least they’re…”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Not in jail?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I was going with that,” Marlene laughed. She scooted closer, letting Dorcas hitch her thigh over her hip, Dorcas’ thumb rubbing idly over her soft skin. “Now what are you worrying about, lover?”

“Sirius,” Dorcas began. “I don’t know he just…he’s never seemed…happy? Saint. He’s trying so hard to be happy that I know he’s not. And now there’s Logan which I think stirred up a lot of Saint Clair stuff for him. I mean, Jesus, how do we not know what’s up with that place?”

“Gods are good at not paying attention,” Marlene said solemnly.

“Saint never takes that damn cross off,” Dorcas said. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to let it go?”

“Sorry, who’s Logan? He got out? As in escaped? Like Saint did?”

Dorcas nodded. “I haven’t talked to Saint about it yet. Me and Sirius are gonna tag-team later, make him let it out.”

Marlene looked suspicious. “Good luck.”

“We have our ways,” Dorcas laughed. “And Logan…He deals. I know him a little. Not really.”

Marlene nodded, going quiet at the mention of Crucio as she always did.

“I like what it gives me,” Dorcas said gently. “Freedom, Marls. More than any other job here could. At least any job that I could get. And its from Kasey, who makes it safely. Unlike the Carrows. So—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Marlene said, and pushed herself closer. “I know. Really, I know. I’m proud of you. I just wish there wasn’t as much risk.”

“Like the police do anything about it,” Dorcas sighed, running a hand through Marlene’s hair. “They probably like the revenue it brings for the island.”

“Yeah,” Marlene sighed.

“Well,” Dorcas said. “We probably have at least twenty minutes before Deveaux returns with the pizza…”

Marlene smiled and pushed Dorcas’ hat off, leaning over her on the bed. “Oh? Twenty minutes you say?”

~

Saint parked the Jeep between two trees in an overgrow section of a Salazar road.  He knew where The Carrows lived. It was difficult to miss their house. Saint could practically smell the gold and diamonds. He felt like he smell the Crucio, too, the rubber bands and the plastic bags, and the sickly sweet powder.

There was no one outside. The whole grandiosity looked strangely deserted.

Saint reached into the rear again for the latest book he had borrowed from James. Frankenstein. Not one he hadn’t read before, but a good one none the less.

“Don’t know why you want that one,” James had said when he handed it over. They had both been hot from working in the sun—Saint on the lawn, James on his backhand. “I had to write a book report on that in, like, what, ninth grade? Oof.”

“Beluis amicitiam,” Saint had replied.

“How the fuck do you know Latin?” James had said. “You aren’t even at our school.”

“You gave me a book on Latin.”

James nodded. “Right.”

“Well?” Saint had asked. “You’re at school. What’d I say?”

James squinted one eye shut. “Beast…friends?”

Saint had laughed. “Literally, sure.”

Saint opened the book now, rolling the window down in the stuffy car. The AC was broken.

“Monsters like company,” he said aloud into the small space and settled down to wait.

~

Lily didn’t expect to find herself painting an old boat with James Potter on a Saturday afternoon, but painting she was. She dipped the fat brush into the blue paint, trying to wipe her hair out of her face without getting blue in it.

“Still doing okay over there, Lils?”

Lily looked up to see James’ head pop out over the upside-down bow.

“All good,” Lily nodded. “You?”

James smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “Just working on my tan.”

James’ head appeared again, only this time his expression was incredulous. “We both know we both burn.”

Lily laughed. “I guess so.”

The Potter’s had their own, small beach in front of their property, and Lily dug her feet down into the sand, looking at the inviting ocean.

She felt all too awkward after their talk a few nights ago. She had been brash, and almost cruel at some points. James was—good. But she didn’t want to end up like her mother. She didn’t want to stay for someone, like her mother had for her father, and regret it, like she could tell her mother did sometimes.

And if she had wanted someone to come out into the world with her, she couldn’t have picked a worse candidate. James was a Potter, and the Potters were Hogwarts Island’s beating heart. Their money was in every part of this island. Every grain of sand, every brick. Hogwarts Academy, whose headmaster was James’ father.

If Lily loved James, she’d never escape.

And the problem was, she did love James.

“So, I was thinking about doing a movie night or something,” James said from the other side of the boat. “Put a sheet up and a projector. We could lay it all out on the lawn, or by the pool. Get some candy and popcorn and shit, invite everyone.”

Lily cleared her throat. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

James was at the front now, painting the boat’s nose. “Any suggestions or requests?”

Lily smiled. “Is it too cheesy to do Pirates of The Caribbean?”

James laughed. “Hell no. There’s no better place!”

Lily shrugged. “Then definitely that. Oh, Will Turner.”

James snorted. “Yeah, can’t say no to that.”

Lily smiled at him, and shifted closer to the other side of the bow.

“So, how’s your common-app going?” James asked. “These essays are sort of killing me. I mean, you’re staring out a window. What do you see? What the fuck kind of prompt is that? That’s what’s going to get me into college?”

Lily laughed. “Not to mention asking me why I want to go somewhere. They’re basically forcing me to make something dramatic up.”

“Right. If I’m being, you know, honest, I feel simple, and if I’m embellishing, I feel fake.”

Lily looked up at him. “Exactly. No, that’s—exactly.”

They smiled at each other, paintbrushes poised.

“I don’t know,” James sighed finally. “I’m—I’m sort of worried, Lils.”

“What about Lacrosse?” Lily asked.

James nodded. “That’s what my dad says. And, yeah, I love it, but…sometimes I wonder if it’s more that I love who I’m playing with. Luke, Remus, Thomas.”

Lily nodded, eyes flitting over his face which had gone serious and tense. “Right. No, that makes sense. But J, you’re so smart. And kind.”

James’ smile was small, but his eyes, when he looked at her, were fond. “Not as smart as you. And I can’t get a degree in kindness.”

Lily hummed, thinking. College was a sensitive topic for everyone it seemed. What was supposed to be one of the best parts of their lives was all uncertainty and vagueness. She thought of Marlene, and how she hadn’t told Dorcas about her early-decision acceptance yet. This seemed to be all goodbyes and leave-behinds.

“Sorry,” James cleared his throat. “That was a downer thing to say.”

Lily shook her head. “I’m starting to think college is just a downer thing.”

James smiled, and, even though it was something that had only been gone for a moment, Lily found that she had missed it. James was so bright. “Yeah.”

Lily knew that she was going to say goodbye to James in a year. But for the first time, she wondered how she knew, and when she had decided.

“You’re going to be amazing, Lils,” James said softly. She could tell that they were both thinking of their conversation. He looked down at her with his hazel eyes. “Really, you are.”

Lily meant to say thank you.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him. James’ body tensed, and then relaxed. His mouth opened beneath hers and she cupped his cheek, her other palm splayed on his chest. He was warm from the sunlight. He made a soft sound and tilted his head to kiss her again, hand between her shoulders. Then, he pulled back, their foreheads together. There was paint on his chest from Lily’s paintbrush. Blue, right over his heart.

“Lils,” James gasped. He wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist. “Lils, mixed messages, mixed messages…”

He was out of breath. Lily had made him that way. Her own heart was beating out of her chest.

“You’re right,” Lily breathed, and stepped away, drawing a fallen strap of her tank top up her shoulder. “You’re right, God, sorry.”

“No, it’s,” James began. “I mean, that was nice. Really nice.”

Lily sent him a wavering smile over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about—” the paint. Everything.

She watched James out of the corner of her eye as he passed his hand through his hair a few times. This time, he came to stand beside her as they worked quietly.

It only took Lily a few moments to not be able to stand it any more. The feeling of him so close, of wanting him the way she did. He was gentle. He kissed in a way that made her want to melt. He had made her laugh, that night that they spent together, in between those kisses and gentle touches.

“Why did you ask me to do this with you, James?” Lily said. “I mean—aren’t you mad at me?”

James didn’t respond for a moment, but finally turned.

“What, we can’t be friends?” he asked.

“I wasn’t very nice to you the other night,” Lily said, and then groaned. “And—I mean, I feel awful about it but…you understand, don’t you?"

“I’m not here to tie you down, Lily,” James said, eyes firm behind his glasses. “If that’s what you think friends do…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re not my friend,” Lily burst out, and then covered her eyes. “I mean—you are. But you’re…”

“It’s fine, Lils,” James said. When Lily looked up, he was shaking his head and stooping to dip his brush again. “Really, let’s just…let’s paint and tan. I’ll get us some sunscreen.”

“James—”

“You kissed me and then you said we weren’t friends. Forgive me if I’d rather stay where we are than go farther or backwards into those two territories that you seem to not want.”

Lily blinked.

James glanced at her, then away. “I should probably be asking you to leave. But I don’t want to lose you. Not yet. Not now, not if you really think that’s so inevitable.”

Lily stared at him. He was looking resolutely at his work, jaw tight. He looked beautiful, even when he was sad and overwhelmed. Lily was so angry at herself.

She didn’t want to lose him, either.

She timed her paint strokes to his, and they worked beside each other quietly.

~

Saint didn’t find what he expected to find.

Instead of Logan coming up the path, Luke Deveaux passed right by his car and open window.

Luke looked down in passing, probably expecting to see an empty vehicle, and then did a double take when, instead, he found Saint sitting there, Frankenstein in one hand, balanced on the steering wheel, and the other elbow resting out the window.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said.

Luke stopped walking. He had a gray t-shirt on with a large, navy Nike swoop on it, and black running shorts. Earbuds dangled around his neck, tangled in the two fine gold chains that hung there and trailing all the way into his pocket, where Saint could see the weight of his phone. He was sweaty, as though he had run here from Godric.

“What?” Luke said.

“Bad move,” Saint replied. “Taking your hit from The Shining twins.”

Luke just stared at him. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Saint smiled. He liked Deveaux when he was caught off guard. This had never happened before.

“Well—” Luke began. “You’re here, too.”

“Not like that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You said you didn’t deal.”

“I don’t.”

“So,” Luke’s eyes flit around the Jeep’s exterior. “You just sit in junk cars and read—” Luke looked forward. “Shelley?”

Saint frowned in approval and squinted back towards the house. “You say that almost as if you’ve read it.”

“I have.”

“What, in your ninth grade book report?”

“No, with my—” Luke turned his head away, mouth clamping shut.

“I see,” Saint said after a moment. “A bit of a strange parental bonding choice, but all right.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said. “And what the fuck did you call me?”

That was when Saint spotted Logan. He sat up and unlocked the Jeep doors with a click.

“Get in,” Saint said.

Luke scoffed. “Fuck off.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that in five seconds. Get in, tweedle, or I’ll tell your mother about your candy addiction.”

To Saint’s slight surprise—he was used to people being drawn to him—that seemed to work and Luke complied, but he walked slowly, distrustfully, around the bonnet before sliding into the passenger seat.

Logan was coming up a different path, one stemming from the back of the house to what looked like a side door.

“She wouldn’t care,” Luke said as he slammed the door.

“You in my passenger seat says differently,” Saint said, and glanced at Luke’s wrist. “Nice watch.”

It was gold and glittery. It looked like it had probably been his father’s, and by no means looked like it should be worn on a run.

“Your car smells like wet dog.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Saint replied, eyes on Logan. He had knocked and was waiting now.

“I was talking about Black.”

Saint glanced at him. “You’re funny, Galileo.”

Luke just shook his head, bringing his t-shirt up to wipe his forehead. “Stop calling me tweedle—you think I’m dumb?”

Saint laughed. “No.”

“All right,” Luke put a hand on the door. “I’m getting out.”

“No,” Saint said, and grabbed Luke’s arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Stay here or you’ll blow this for both of us.”

Luke shook him off and Saint pushed his door open. He began his stride up towards the house without looking back. He wondered if Luke was a snoop. The thought made him smile.

Logan saw him when he was half-way to the door, and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands out in an effort to silently say go back.

“Hello, number ten,” Saint said, leaning beside the door. “Now, who are you waiting for?”

“Saint, don’t.”

“Look, I’m hoping it was me, and if so, your ride’s here.” Saint narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“What do you care if I’m here?”

Saint looked at Logan’s backpack, the one that was always filled with Crucio. Even at the sight of it he imagined that he could feel the sweet, sleepiness that occupied his nights at the orphanage.

The door opened.

“Oh, look,” Amycus said, resting a hand on the door. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What is it you’re calling yourself these days? Saint.”

“Hello, Amy,” Saint smiled. “Nice to see you, we’re going now.”

“You can’t,” Amycus snarled. “He owes us.”

“I’m sure you haven’t lost that much,” Saint said back evenly.

“Oh yeah?” Amycus laughed. “Why don’t we take a look at green-eyes here’s subconscious. You want something bad enough, you like something enough, something feels good enough, then there comes a point where you don’t even know how far you’ve gone to get it. How much Felix have you taken, do you think, Tremblay?”

Logan just looked down.

“See?” Amycus cocked his head. “He doesn’t know. Which means I make make up whatever number I like.”

Saint nodded, thoughtful. “Interesting. What number is that?”

Amycus just grinned. “Your friend here will know when I tell him.”

“Bullshit,” Logan snapped, and Saint held up a hand.

“We’re going now, and you know what?” Saint leaned in. “You don’t know shit about what he wants.”

“Come back without your handler, Tremblay,” Amycus called after them.

Back at the car, Saint could see Luke reading Frankenstein through the windshield.

“Who’s that?”

“Who you got your two hundred bucks for,” Saint murmured.

“What about the two hundred more you just cost me?”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said, and motioned to Luke to get out.

“And what exactly was I supposed to get out of this?” Luke said, crossing his arms.

“A chit-chat with yours truly,” Saint replied. “Logan, get in the car.”

Logan glared, but took Luke’s place in the passenger seat.

Saint slid back into the driver’s side, took Logan’s backpack from him, and slung it into the back seat.

“Oh,” Saint leaned out his window. “And I’m sure you can go right up now.”

“I’m sure I can,” Luke tossed Saint the book. “Don’t forget Potter’s book. Did you steal it, or what?”

If only he knew, Saint thought. 

“Bye, Luke,” Saint called as he turned out of the grove and down the street. He looked in his review mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke standing, framed in it. Then, he put his arm lazily on the steering wheel and let Luke’s golden watch flash in the sunlight on his wrist.

“You didn’t have to fucking—fetch me,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, I fucking did.”

Logan turned towards him in his seat, and for a moment Saint thought he was going for his backpack, but Logan just looked at him.

“Look,” Logan said.

“I’m driving.”

Logan ignored him.

“There’s a treasure,” Logan said instead. “Leo told me about it. He thinks his dad knows where it is—The Cradle? Look, I—If we can get it—”

“Oh, good,” Saint sighed. “He sells Crucio and he’s a Voldemort tourist.”

Logan blinked. “You know about it?”

Saint scoffed. “Of course I know about it. Everyone knows about it, Logan.”

“Fine, but—if we can get it, then I can pay off—”

“I’m sorry, excuse me, excuse me,” Saint held up a hand, one on the wheel. The houses went from the tall mansions of Salazar to the workshop rows of Helga, to the low houses of The Hollow. “Did you or did you not just place all of your hopes of freedom on a long lost, legendary treasure.”

“Bash—Saint.”

“Answer the question.”

“It’s not my hope, it’s just an option.”

Saint just shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Come on,” Logan urged as Saint stopped the car in front of The Lion. “Isn’t there something you want? Something that much gold could get you?”

“Come to think of it, there isn’t that much I want, no.”

Logan paused, and then said, “Then, is there something you hate?”

When Saint didn’t reply for enough time, Logan took his backpack and got out of the car.

~

Sirius had dreamed about his little brother last night. Only, he had been on Wolfsbane, and Regulus had been on shore. There had been someone else in the boat, too, someone expertly pulling the ropes and taking Sirius farther out to sea. The wind had been warm.

Sirius had woken up thinking about Remus Lupin.

His entire day was thrown off.

Sirius looked over at Saint. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Saint had his head in Dorcas’ lap and his eyes closed. “Pardon?”

Dorcas and Sirius glanced at each other. “Logan.”

“We were at Saint Clair together. What else is there to say?”

“Maybe how he got out.”

“And why,” Dorcas added, running a hand through Saint’s hair. “It might help if you talked about that place more.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sirius groaned. “Saint. Come on, that kid looked freaked talking to you and then he bolted. What’s up?”

Saint sighed, his face opening up into a rare moment of softer eyes, and he sat up, nearly facing away from the both of them.

Sirius listened to the crickets outside. Before, he had just wanted to know about the orphanage. Now, he wanted Saint to not have to keep it all inside.

“When I arrived when I was five, Logan and Finn were already there,” Saint said finally. “And its not like its this horrible place. We have beds and food and we go to school together. We have friends. But we’re also locked away. The nuns are strict. The punishments are old-fashioned. A slap. A few days in solitude. The problem is…”

Sirius got up from his perch on the window and sat beside Saint on the ratty old couch they had dragged in. Saint didn’t look at him, but let him and Dorcas lay gentle hands on him, Dorcas’ on his back, Sirius’ one of his crossed ankles.

“I watched kids turn eighteen,” Saint said, voice steely. “And they’d be packing their bags and then—unpacking them.”

“They,” Dorcas began. “You mean they decided to stay?”

Saint just shook his head slowly. “I still haven't completely figured it out. I think—maybe Crucio has something to do with it. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make them stay. I keep having this—this memory of being so tired at night. And these dreams.”

“The plant Crucio is made out of has Melatonin in it,” Dorcas said, brow creased. “It influences the dreaming. The hallucinations.”

“So, what?” Sirius asked. “They stay for Crucio, you think?”

“They work some,” Saint said. “Around the island. But, yeah. They stay.”

“You think they’re bringing money back?” Dorcas asked gently. “To the orphanage?”

Saint shrugged. “I told you. I haven’t completely figured it out. But I’d rather figure it out from the outside. Even when I was seven, I knew something was wrong. But I was older when I arrived. Finn and Logan had been there since they were too young to recognize something like that. They didn’t know anything else.”

“And…you do?” Sirius asked faintly. Saint had never brought up remembering anything about his prior life, his family.

Saint laughed faintly and got up. “Who knows. That’s the thing about memories, right? We tend to make them worse, or make them better.” Sirius watched him go to the sink and turn it on and off. He opened the refrigerator and then closed it. Finally, he stilled.

“But I hate them,” Saint said, almost to himself. “I hate them for making anything feel real.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when Dorcas’ phone lit up with a loud ping.

She picked it up. “From Marlene. Apparently we’re invited to a movie night at Potter’s house.”

“Of course we are,” Sirius sighed, and got up and wrapped his arms around Saint from behind. “What do you feel like?”

Saint looked at him over his shoulder. “Well, how could I ever pass that up?”

~

When Logan didn’t find Leo at The Lion, he went to the Knut’s workshop instead. He’d been in there a handful of times now. It was a crowded room, walls-to-ceiling tools and cupboards that organized different found objects. Sea-glass and shards of blue china. There was large glass jars of things like compasses or pieces of weather vanes hanging by woven rope plant holders from the ceiling. There was a forge that was cool now, and there was a long work bench.

He found Leo on the work bench with the garage door open to the street, shirtless and welding something together.

“Oh,” Logan said instead of announcing himself.

Leo looked up, then back down, sparks flying around him. “Hey, what’s up?”

Logan walked a few steps inside and set his backpack—which was still empty—down.

“I want to help you,” he said.

The sparks stopped and Leo pushed his welding mask up. He was sweaty, his cheeks flushed from the heat. “What? With this?”

Logan rolled his eyes and walked in to straddle the other end of the work bench. “The treasure. We need to find the treasure. Think how rich we’d be.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, then took his mask off and set his equipment down. For a moment, his face looked thunderous. Logan thought he was about to tell him to get out, but the storm dissipated.

“This isn’t a joke to me,” Leo said evenly after another pause. “And it’s not some greedy game, either. That’s not why my dad looked for things like this. He loved history.”

Logan blinked. “You—you don’t want the money?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. What do you think the finder gets?”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t make me regret telling you. I’m saying my dad was never one to just pawn things off. He wanted things like that on display, for people to learn from.”

“How very, very noble and grand,” came another voice, and they both looked up to see Saint standing there. He had changed since the last time Logan had seen him. He was wearing a t-shirt that said New Orleans Saints.

“Saint?” Leo said.

“Hi there,” Saint gave a little salute. “I have a movie night to go to, apparently, a nice little godly sleepover, but I thought I’d stop by.”

“What are you doing…” Logan began warily.

“Well, come to think of it, there is something I hate.”

Leo tilted his head. “What is he talking about?”

“Not to mention,” Saint continued, and touched the bottom of the hanging compasses. He studied one, then looked at them and grinned.

“I do like gold,” Saint said.

[triptuckers]

Not if it’s you - Din Djarin

Request: no Pairing:  Din Djarin x reader Summary:  After months of traveling the galaxy with each other, Din tells you he needs to continue his quest alone. You don’t know what caused the sudden change of heart and you’re hurt, but leave nonetheless. But after being around him for so long, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be on your own. Warnings: angst, language, slight season 2 spoilers Word count:  4.2K 😳 A/N: Based on a text post I found and a video I saw on instagram. Italics are flashbacks. Enjoy reading! :)

You’re miserable. And cold. And lonely. You’re not used to it. Well, you’ve been miserable and cold before, but it’s been months since the last time you’ve felt lonely. You almost forgot what it felt like. 

Up until a few days ago, you weren’t miserable and cold at all. And certainly not lonely. You were aboard the Razor Crest, accompanying a certain Mandalorian on a quest. It came out of nowhere to you, you thought everything was well between you. More than just well, actually. Perhaps you were wrong.

‘Say that again.’ you say, trying to keep your voice from breaking. You can’t see his face, but his helmet lowers. He can’t even look at you. ‘You need to leave.’ says Din.

‘I’ve been here for months. Trying to help you on this quest of yours. Delivering the kid to the Jedi. I’ve helped you on your path to find other Mandalorians. I thought we’d stick together no matter what.’ you say. 

Though it feels broken, your heart is still beating rapidly. You can feel it in your throat while you fight the tears. It feels as if an invisible hand is slowly closing around your throat, making it hard to breathe. 

‘You need to leave.’ says Din. ‘Please.’

The invisible hand disappears, and a new emotion takes over: anger. He had the audacity to tell you to leave. After everything you’ve been through. You’ve travelled the galaxy with him, taken care of him when he got in a fight, offered to take care of the kid so he could rest, made sure he ate. You did everything for him.

But that’s not what makes you so angry. It’s the fact he can throw it in the garbage like that. You care about him. Maybe more than you’ve ever cared about anyone. You have to admit it’s scary, but you’re willing to reach out and grasp the feeling with both of your hands. Worst of all, you thought he felt the same.

All those hours you spent talking about your cultures, people and home planet. All those hours you spent getting to know each other, letting each other in your hearts. Apparently it meant nothing to him.

‘Why?’ you say, anger slowly rising in your voice. Din sighs deeply. ‘Please, just leave.’ he says. 

‘Why?’ you repeat. ‘I need to be on my own.’ he says. ‘There’s a planet nearby where I can land. There’s a city where you can-’

‘So that’s it?’ you say, getting angrier. It’s getting harder and harder to hold back the tears. ‘You’re just going to kick me off the Razor Crest? You’re just going to abandon me on the nearest habitable planet?’

‘I’m not abandoning you.’ says Din. ‘Of course not!’ you say loudly. ‘I’ve just served your purpose and now you don’t need me anymore! Now that I’ve done what you needed me to do, you’re just going to shove me away!’

It startles Din how angry you are, how loud your voice is. He’s seen you get angry before. He’s heard you shout before. But you’ve never been angry before. Sure, you could get annoyed by him, but it never turned into anger. And you’ve never shouted at him before. It hurts, but it’s for the best.

‘It’s for the best, Y/N. Please believe me.’ he says.  ‘For the best, my ass! You’re fucking pathetic, Din!’ you yell at him. ‘This is why you’re always alone. You just push people away when they’ve pleased you. The only reason the kid stays with you is because he doesn’t know any better, but I bet you he’d leave you if he could!’

Behind his helmet, tears form in Din’s eyes. The feeling’s strange to him, as it doesn’t happen often. He’s standing there, helplessly, tears in his eyes. He looks at you. You’ve always had to look up to him, because he’s taller. Your hands are fists and your face is red and tears stream down your cheeks. Before he can say anything, you’ve pushed past him. 

He turns around and his heart sinks as he sees you randomly grabbing your stuff and shoving it in your bag with such force you might rip it. He’s silent as he watches you collect your stuff. Without a word you march to the back of the ship, opening the door. 

Sunshine fills the ship, illuminating your figure as you stop. Din looks up, thinking you could change your mind. But you turn around and he’s shocked. The anger is gone. But the look in your eyes is colder than the Beskar steel hugging his body. 

‘I don’t even want to be here anymore.’ you say before walking off, leaving the Razor Crest and a heartbroken Mandalorian behind.

Din wanted you to leave. He needed you to be gone. You’ve done as he asked. He should be relieved. But he’s not. He sniffles as the tears finally roll down his cheeks, down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. You’re gone. Just like he asked you to. He broke your heart and his along with it.

You sigh and let your head rest against the rock you’re sitting in front of. It had been days since Din asked you to leave. You still didn’t know why he wanted you to leave. You’ve spend many hours thinking about it, but you can’t find the reason why.

Din was the only person to truly know you. You had told him many stories of your home and your childhood, along with your greatest fears and deepest desires. And in return, he had told you his. You felt like you were meant to last forever. Maybe the feeling was never mutual. 

You hug your arms tighter around your torso. Desert planets were unbearable during the day but just as much during the night. Your coat is thin, and your fingers are red due to the cold. 

You’d been on the planet once before, briefly. Din needed to get some information and because you were tired, and hadn’t slept in nearly three days, you decided to stay on the Razor Crest. Every now and then you woke up when you heard the sound of droids outside the ship, or the woman who owned the place. 

Peli was a wonderful woman, and you got along really well during your first time the planet. Maybe she could tell you where you could get a ship so you could get out of here. If you could only reach the city. It’d be a journey of three days. Two if you’d be fast. But you were almost out of water and food. You’d probably collapse before you’d reach the city. 

Your mind wanders off to Din again. Where would he be right now? Could you track him and catch up with him if you had a ship, or would he be long gone? What if you never met again, and he forgot about you?

You certainly wouldn’t forget about him. You cared too much about him to just let him go. Maybe you even loved him. Maybe you’d loved him for a while now, but you were just too scared to admit it. To him, and to yourself. 

Whatever the feeling was, it was making you miserable. Because you hated being away from him, and because you had no idea where he was, and if he would miss you as well. 

Suddenly, the loneliness fades and you get up, determined. If you had to, you’d crawl to the city on your hands and knees. You’d go to the city, find Peli, ask her if she had a ship for you or knew someone who could sell you one, and you’d track Din’s stubborn ass, and tell him you weren’t going anywhere. 

Rubbing your hands together to try to warm them, you begin your journey to the city. It’s still cold, but your determination makes it less horrible, and your walking pace speeds up as you think of Din somewhere far away on his ship, with the kid in his lap. 

The journey ended up being two days. When you first saw the city, you thought you were hallucinating due to the lack of water and food. But as you kept walking, the city appeared closer and closer, until you walked through the gates, onto the busy street. 

There’s a market and you buy some food at the first stand you see. The next stand over has water, and you gladly buy some. You ask the seller where to find Peli, and he points to the end of the street. You thank him and hurry towards it. 

You’re impatiently knocking on her door, waiting until it finally opens. Peli is frowning but the frown quickly disappears when she recognises her visitor. 

‘Y/N!’ she says happily but also a bit surprised. She looks behind you but when she catches your eye you shake your head.

‘You don’t have to look for him. Mando’s not here.’ you say.  ‘Shame. Was hoping he’d have that green little cutie with him.’ says Peli. ‘It’s just me today.’ you say. ‘Well you look like you’ve been through hell and back, come in.’ says Peli and she steps aside to let you in.

‘What do you need?’ she says as soon as you’ve followed her into her workspace. Her droids are running around, making little chittering noises. 

‘I was hoping you’d have a ship you’re selling?’ you ask hopefully. You know it’s a long shot, but it was worth trying.  ‘A ship?’ she says. ‘Technically not.’

This time, it’s your turn to frown. ‘What do you mean “technically not”?’ you say. ‘Well I have one fuelled up and ready to go, but it’s not mine.’ she says. ‘I was supposed to deliver it to this crappy looking kid, but he never showed up. Didn’t even pay me, and some of those parts were expensive.’ 

‘So you have a ship that’s ready to take off?’ you say.  ‘Yep.’ she says. ‘Why do you need it though? Thought you were still with Mando on that piece of trash he calls a ship.’ 

‘So did I.’ you mutter. ‘We got, um, separated. I need a ship so I can track him down.’ ‘You know what, I like you. I like your Mandalorian and that kid of his as well. You can have that ship if you’re willing to pay a little more than the original prize.’ says Peli. 

‘He’s not really my Mandalorian, you know.’ you say and Peli raises your eyebrows. ‘So, how much credits do you want?’ you say hastily. 

Less than ten minutes later, you’re on the ship. It’s tiny but, as Peli described it, a whole lot better and much cleaner than the Razor Crest. You’re headed to the last known location of Din, hoping to find someone who has information on where he is. It wouldn’t be likely, though. But you are determined to find him. He wouldn’t get rid you that easily again. 

But the searching is slow. You could only expect Din to cover his tracks, as he had taught you to do the same. Only a few people had seen him around or talked to him. It took you months to get your first solid lead. You’d run into a man called Cobb Vanth, who had met Din some time ago. He was eager to help you find him. With Cobb’s help, you figured out where Din would be headed for next. When you took off, leaving the planet and Cobb behind you, you felt like you actually had a chance to see Din again.

Still, after Cobb’s lead, it took you a while to get to the planet he’d told you about. You’re afraid Din’s already left when you finally land on the planet near one of the bigger cities. You spend all day asking around if anyone had seen him. When the days comes to an end, you’re in a bar. Sipping on your drink, you’re wondering what to do next, when you catch a few words from some people sitting at the table next to yours.

‘Yeah, of course I saw that. Do you know how much that Beskar armour is worth? We’d be rich.’

You immediately abandon your drink and head over to the table. The two men sitting at the table look at you. You feel uncomfortable as one of them takes his time to look at you.

‘Well, hello there, sweetheart.’ he says. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ ‘You can if you tell me what I want to know.’ you say. ‘Have you seen a Mandalorian around here?’ ‘I sure did, sweetheart.’ he says. ‘Yesterday. He was getting a drink. Talked to someone for a while, then took off again.’ ‘Anything else?’ you say. ‘Yeah. He had a weird green dog with him.’ says the man.

‘Thank you.’ you say and you turn around and head towards the door of the bar. However, before you can reach it, you feel a hand grab a hold of one of your wrists.

‘I still need to buy you a drink, sweetheart.’ says a voice so close to your ear you can feel his breath on your ear. Within seconds, you flip his arm and pin him against the table, your blaster poking in his stomach.

‘How about next time, sweetheart?’ you say with a smile before pushing him away from you and exiting the bar.

Darkness is setting in as you’re heading back towards your ship. You knew Din’s ship wasn’t with the other ships of travellers passing by, you’d searched for it when you first arrived. 

When you’ve reached your own ship, you pack some essentials in your bag and head towards the forrest instead. You figured he’d lay low there for a while. These days he was one of the most wanted people in the entire galaxy. Leaving his ship next to a big city was basically sending a distress signal saying “I am here, come and get me”.

It’s dark in the woods, and you can barely see a thing. But you trust on your instincts and senses to lead you through the forrest. After some time of walking and occasionally stopping to see if no one followed you, you notice there are less trees. Every now and then you can see the stars through the leaves. 

You walk for a few minutes before you spot a big dark shadow ahead of you. There are no trees surrounding it, though no one but a skilled pilot who knew his ship well could land there. With one hand on your blaster, you slowly move closer to the ship. 

When you’re several feet away from the ship, a tall figure appears in front of you, aiming a blaster to your face. You’d be alarmed if it’d been anyone else. But you’ve spend too long around him to not recognise him. 

‘Hi Din.’ you say and you raise your hand to push his blaster away from your face. He doesn’t say anything, so you walk past him towards the Razor Crest. Just as you’re about to enter, you hear his footsteps catching up with you and his gloved hand grabs a hold of your arm, making you turn around.

His helmet is close to your face. ‘What are you doing here?’ he says. You’re so glad you’ve found him, you’re nowhere near intimidated by his actions. ‘I told you to leave.’ he says. 

‘And you think I’d listen to you?’ you say, failing to suppress a smile.

Once again, Din is glad he’s wearing a helmet. Otherwise you’d be able to see the immense relieve on his face. He can barely stay mad at you. Because he told you to leave and you found a way back to him. Though he’s relieved to see you, he’s also disappointed you’ve found him. He told you to leave for a reason. And though you didn’t know that reason, not really, you’re back.

‘Y/N, you need to leave.’ he says, keeping his voice steady and somewhat firm.

Again, he sees anger appear on your face and you pull your arm out of his grip.  ‘Are you fucking serious right now, Din?’ you say.  ‘Listen to me, Y/N, you-’ begins Din but you’re quick to interrupt him.

‘No, you listen to me Din!’ you say. ‘Do you know how much time I spent to get here? How much effort? First I had to spend two days alone in the desert with no food, no water whatsoever, then I spend almost all of the credits I had left on a ship which I flew from planet to planet talking to anyone who might have caught a glimpse of you or the kid. I spent months trying to track you, and just as I was about to give up, I overhead a conversation in a bar that was about you, and I headed to these woods and I found you, Din, I found you and you tell me that I need to leave again?’

‘Y/N, you don’t understand.’ says Din.  ‘Then explain it to me.’ you say, almost begging. When he’s silent, you get angry again. 

‘Why do you want me to leave? What could possible make you want to get rid of me?’ you shout, not even worrying about the fact someone could hear you.  ‘I’m staying, Din. Wether you like it or not.’ you say.

‘No.’ is all he says. ‘You can’t stay.’ ‘Why the fuck not?’ you yell at him, getting so close to him your forehead is almost touching his helmet. He takes a step back.

‘Come on, Din, you’re acting like a fucking child. If you don’t want me around, at least tell me why.’ you say. 

‘I was afraid!’ yells Din. This time, you’re the one to take a step back, looking at him. There it finally is, the reason why. But you still don’t understand. 

‘Afraid of what?’ you say. Your voice is calm again and to Din you sound like yourself again. No raised voice, no yelling. It’s your voice like it is in his memory. 

‘Afraid of you getting hurt.’ he admits. ‘I was afraid because I care too much about you. I felt like if something happened to you, if you got hurt - or worse, that would be on me. And I couldn't handle that. So I pushed you away. I needed to distance myself from you.’

All of the anger is gone as you look at the man standing in front of you. His helmet is lowered just as it did the last time you saw him. You slowly take a step closer to him. You hesitate for a moment, but then take his hand in yours. Din sighs so softly that you wouldn’t have been able to hear it if you weren’t standing so close to him. 

‘I’m sorry.’ he says. ‘I know I hurt you, I never meant to. I just figured that a life with me is no life at all. I wanted you to have a better life.’

‘Oh, Din.’ you breathe out. ‘Listen to me, if someone wants to be with you, nothing will keep them from being with you. If someone wants to be in your life, nothing will keep them from being with you, nothing, you hear me? You may think a life with you is worthless but I don’t think so. I’d love it.’

Din shakes his head. ‘You don’t understand. A life like mine? Forever? I can’t do that to you. You’d always be on the move, you wouldn’t be able to settle down and have a quiet life.’ he says.

‘What if I don’t want a quiet life?’ you say. ‘What if I want a life like yours?’ ‘I wouldn’t want that if I were you.’ he says. ‘I’ll take care of you.’ you say. Din shakes his head again. ‘It’s rotten work.’ he says. ‘Not to me. Not if it’s you.’ you say. 

‘Maker, Y/N, you make my life so much harder and so much easier at the same time. How do you do it?’ he says. ‘Driving you you crazy is part of the job.’ you say and Din chuckles. It’s a wonderful sound you haven’t heard in so long. 

Din lifts his helmet. You can’t see his eyes, but you’re sure he’s looking into yours. ‘What do you know about Mandalorian culture?’ he says. ‘Only the stories you told me, why?’ you say.  ‘Did I ever tell you about the Keldabe kiss?’ he says. ‘No.’ you say. ‘Tell me.’

‘It’s... a way to show affection and love.’ says Din. ‘You know that I’m not allowed to take off my helmet. The Keldabe kiss is a way to kiss someone without taking off my helmet.’

You’re quiet as you look at him. You’re still holding his hand. Inside your chest, your heart is beating rapidly. You’re surprised he can’t hear it. 

‘What’s it like?’ you say so softly your voice is barely audible.  ‘Like this.’ says Din. He moves his free hand an rests it on the back of your head. He softly pulls you towards him and rests his helmet against your forehead. 

It’s so simple, yet so intimate. It’s the closest you’ve ever been. You close your eyes, focusing on the cold Beskar armour against your skin. In all those hours you spent wondering why Din would push you away like that, you never once thought he would do it because he cared too much about you. 

After some time, Din pulls away but keeps his hand on the back of your head. ‘I’m sorry.’ he says. ‘Please never leave me again, cyar’ika.’ You smile when you look at him. ‘Is that also from your culture? What does it mean?’ you say. ‘Cyar’ika?’ he says and you nod. ‘It means...’ he’s silent as he searches for the right translation. ‘Beloved.’

You gasp quietly when you hear it and underneath his helmet, Din smiles at you. This time, you lean in to press your forehead against his helmet. ‘I like it.’ you say softly and Din squeezes your hand with his. 

‘Do you trust me?’ asks Din. ‘Yes.’ you say without hesitation.  ‘Close your eyes.’ he says. ‘And don’t open them until l say you can.’

You’re a little confused, but obey nonetheless. You close your eyes and feel Din pulling away his hands. You then hear a faint hiss and a click. This time, you gasp loudly, you know what he did.

‘Put it back on!’ you say. ‘You can’t take your helmet of in front of me!’ ‘Keep your eyes closed, cyar’ika.’ Din says.

His voice sounds different. It’s not modified by his helmet, it’s his true voice. You find yourself longing to hear more of it. You’re waiting for Din to say something, when you feel something instead. You never even dared to imagine what it’d feel like. 

You feel a pair of soft lips against yours. You’re surprised at first, but you quickly melt into his touch. Din can feel you smile through the kiss. Before you can stop yourself, you reach up to touch his face, but Din’s hands catch yours and he gently pushes them down. 

When he pulls away, you keep your eyes closed, still a smile on your lips. You hear a click again and Din’s fingers intertwine with yours. 

‘You can open your eyes again.’ says Din. And so you open your eyes, beaming up at him. ‘I couldn’t wait any longer.’ he says sheepishly and you smile even wider. 

‘What do you say, want to come with me again? I’ve still got to deliver the kid and it’d be nice to have some company.’ says Din. ‘Of course I want that.’ you say.  ‘Look, I’m really sorry. I hurt you and I-’ ‘It’s okay.’ you say. ‘You made up for it.’ 

Suddenly you feel something tugging on your pants and you look down at your feet to see the kid looking up at you. 

‘Hi there, little one.’ you say and you bend down to pick him up. ‘Missed me, did you?’ you say and the little creature looks at you with his big eyes. He snuggles closer to you and you notice his eyes are immediately getting heavier.

‘I still don’t know how you do that.’ says Din. ‘All you do is pick him up and he falls asleep.’

‘It’s just a feeling, I guess.’ you say, looking at the little kid in your arms. ‘This one looks as tired as I feel.’

You hold out one of your hands to Din while still holding the kid against your chest with the other. ‘Come on.’ you say. ‘You can use some sleep as well.’ ‘How do you know that?’ he says. You lift your head to look at him. ‘You probably haven’t slept since you landed on this planet.’ you say.

Din grabs your hand and allows you to guide him inside the Razor Crest.  ‘I forgot how well you know me.’ says and you smile. ‘I don’t think I could ever forget anything about you, Din.’ you say.

‘Oh, Maker. Don’t ever leave again, cyar’ika.’ says Din softly, sending shivers down your spine. ‘Well, if you don’t ask me to leave again, I promise you I’ll stay forever.’ you say and you smile at Din.  ‘Please do.’ says Din and he pushes his helmet against your forehead one last time.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading!

Much love, Jo

[ptergwen]

the last time

warnings: angst and swearing

summary: here

-

“in order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love.”

it feels like your stomach just dropped all the way down the cliff you’re standing on. peter grips your arm, pulling you away from the cloaked man. you know what you have to do.

your dad sent you and peter to vormir to get the soul stone. they’d both been to space once before this, and it didn’t end well. they were lucky to survive. most of the universe didn’t. now you have the chance to fight for the same thing they did. the other avengers needed all the help they could get to pull this off, so here you are.

you’ll hopefully be able to bring everyone back. you just didn’t realize you’d have to die for them to live.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, y/n. don’t listen to him.” peter rubs up and down your arm to calm you down, squinting his eyes at the man. you give him a halfhearted smile. all the words are stuck in your throat. you know he’s right, that one of you has to go. you’re not going to let it be peter.

you turn to face him with the same sad look. he shakes his head a bunch of times before you can say anything. “it’s true, peter. you know how nebula said gamora was here and never came back? he must have had to sacrifice her.” “no. no way. she... she could’ve gone somewhere else after-“

you cup both of peter’s cheeks, willing him to look at you. he puts his hands on top of yours and meets your eyes. nodding, you smooth your thumb across his skin gently.

“peter...” your voice breaks. you wanted to be strong for him, but it’s all hitting you at once. this is the last time you’ll see him. this is the last time you’ll see anyone.

“there’s gotta be another way, right? we’ll figure it out. you’re so smart. i know you can think of something.” he’s in denial. “no, peter. i can’t. i’m not my dad.” you let out a teary laugh, sniffling a bit. peter pulls you into his chest and holds you tightly against him. your arms hug his middle after a few seconds.

this is it. your final goodbye. you’ve been with peter for years, seen each other at your worst moments. nothing compares to what you’re going through right now. it’s never been so hard to let him go.

he presses his lips to your hair, which only makes you cry more. you’re finally able to pull away from his chest and crash your lips into his one last time. hands grasping at your waist, he kisses you back with tears running down his own cheeks. it’s messy and salty and heartbreaking, but it’s you guys. you wipe at the tear stains on peter’s suit and give him one more peck on his cheek.

“i love you the most, y/n. you know that, right? i’m so fucking in love with you,” peter chokes out, pressing his forehead against yours. you take a shaky breath and put your hands on his cheeks again. “i know, pete. i love you so much. so, so much.” you stay like that until both of you silently agree it’s time.

“now that you’ve said your goodbyes,” the red skull chimes in, “which one of you is it going to be?”

“me,” you and peter both say at the same time. huh? he looks at you with wide eyes. you’re just as confused as he is for once. “y/n, what? i thought we both decided it was gonna be me.” “no, that’s what i thought. you’re not doing this.”

the red skull sighs impatiently from behind you.

“please, y/n. i made a promise to your dad that i’d keep you safe out here. i can’t break that.” “i promised myself i wouldn’t let you die.” you give him a stern look. “maybe this is me dealing with some self-sacrificial stark shit right now, but i can’t break that either.”

ignoring everything you just said, peter moves to put his mask back on. you take it out of his hand. “uh, what the hell?” “peter, you‘re gonna do amazing things. you already do now. i can’t imagine what you’ll accomplish in ten years, or even one. you‘re not going yet.” he squeezes his eyes shut. “stop that. you will, too. just give me my mask back, y/n.”

you throw your hands up in disbelief, still holding it. “being rich isn’t amazing, peter! you have more going for you than i do. admit it.” he can’t help but frown at what you’re saying. this shouldn’t be your last memory together.

“baby, what are you talking about? you got to join the team, you make awesome high-tech stuff, you’re a genius. come on.” “here’s your mask.” you shove it into his hand, letting your touch linger for a moment. “i really do love you more than anything.” you suddenly make a run for the edge of the cliff before peter anticipates it.

he moves fast and shoots a web to pull you back, rushing over to you. “oh my god, y/n! what are you thinking?” “i’m thinking you need to get the stone. don’t worry about me.” you get yourself back up, only for peter to push you down again. so, he wants to fight you for this.

you knee his stomach from the ground so he falls over, taking the opportunity to jump for real. peter manages to lean over and shoot a taser web at you before you go too far. that one stings. you yelp and hold your arm where he got you, but you’re not giving up that easy.

“sorry, babe. didn’t mean to hurt you,” peter calls out, getting back on his feet. you walk the short distance over to him. “i’m doing this because i love you, okay? that’s all.” he whispers to you. with a fake smile, you take his hand. peter thinks that means you’re done. then, you use it to flip him onto his back. he groans in pain, not trying to get up this time.

now that he’s out for good, it’s really happening. you’re at peace with what you have to do. you take one final look at peter and start running. you run until you get to the edge of the cliff. peter must’ve realized what’s going on because you hear him calling your name. you forgot how much endurance he has in him.

“y/n, y/n stop!” he yells, already behind you. you stay put. “it shouldn’t be you! listen to me, it’s not too late to change your mind.” you don’t bother turning around to see him. you’ll give in if you do. “remember what i said, pete. all of it.”

with that, your heart beating hard in your ears, you throw yourself off the edge of the cliff. peter uses everything in him to web you to the side, but he can only get one out, so you grab onto a rock. not because you changed your mind. because you owe him a real final goodbye.

“wh- how am i out? i’ll come get you, just- fuck.” peter leans over the edge, looking down at you with watery eyes. you hold up his extra web cartridge and smile sadly. you took it when you were hugging earlier since you had a feeling he’d try to stop you.

“it’s okay, peter. you’ll be okay.” “y/n-“ you let go of the rock and fall fast, hitting the ground while peter cries out. “no!” he grips at the crumbling ground where you first jumped. your lifeless body is staring up at him. he could’ve stopped this. he drops to his knees as a loud sob racks through him, still looking down at you.

“no,” his voice is quiet, small, out of energy and broken. there’s no one here to dry his tears anymore.

-

peter isn’t sure how it happened, but he wakes up underwater. he pulls his head up with a cough. his eyes still feel puffy, so he couldn’t have been out too long. there’s something glowing in his hand. slowly, he opens his shaking hand and immediately recognizes what it is. the soul stone. red skull was right. peter lost who he loves all for a stupid fucking stone.

-

the whole team arrives back at the avengers facility at the same time, like bruce said they would. everyone seems so happy. thor got mjölnir back, scott is buzzing over steve, tony is laughing at one of nat’s jokes. tony. how is peter supposed to tell him what happened? his kid died, and it’s peter’s fault. he bursts into tears again at the thought of it. he’s surprised he even has more left in him.

tony is the first to notice. “parker, what’s wrong? why isn’t y/n with you?” the rest of the team rushes over to him. peter chokes out a sob, everything replaying in his head.

“she- she.” he can hardly breathe let alone speak. tony puts a hand on his shoulder. “kid, you’re scaring me. i can’t fix it unless you tell me what‘s up.” he waves for everyone else to back up so peter has space. bruce and nat share a look. “she’s gone, mr. stark! she’s not here. i re- i really messed up.”

peter throws the stone that he’s been holding at the floor. silently, rocket picks it up.

somehow understanding what he means, tony pulls peter in for a hug. he hurts like hell too, but this kid needs him right now. peter has always had a habit of blaming himself for things he can’t control. tony is pretty sure this is one of those things. he hugs him back as tight as he can.

“i’m so sorry, mr. stark. i’m so sorry.”

-

five years later and peter is numb. another stark left him, and he sort of gave up in life. at 21 years old. without a mentor, he got lost in the superhero world. spider-man went from being an avenger to party entertainment for kids. it’s an easy way to make money. the people loved him before, they’ll love him again. all he does now is book birthday parties and drink the nights away.

the only emotion peter still feels is anger. he hates the world and he hates what he’s done, or hasn’t done. every time he puts on that mask, it reminds him of the night you died. he has to fight the urge to rip it to shreds. if he didn’t need to pay the bills, he would’ve at this point. most of all, he resents himself for letting you down.

you sacrificed yourself for peter to lead a full life, and look what he’s done with it. he’s a drunk loser. that’s not what you wanted for him.

one day, it all changes.

there’s a knock at peter’s door. he grumbles something about paying his rent, expecting it to be his landlord. he opens it to find you instead. thinking he’s had too much to drink, he shuts the door in your face. you‘re a little bit shocked, but you knock again.

“um, peter? that’s you in there, right? pretty sure you’re the only peter parker in queens.” you call from the hallway. “whoever’s trying to fuck with me, just get out of here. i’m not in the mood today.” he flops back down on his couch, taking a sip of his nearly finished beer. you’re already fed up, so you open the door yourself.

“i said-“ he shuts up when you sit down next to him. “are you real? you can’t be... you died years ago.” “peter.” you take his hands. he’s confused, but lets you. it’s weird seeing him, both of you being adults now. you’ll have to get used to it.

“when you brought everyone back, it worked for me too.” he stares at you with his mouth hanging open for a minute. “that’s not possible. we did that a few days after you... you know.” “i know it sounds insane, but i came back on vormir. i had to find a way back to earth, which took a really long time. i’ve been looking for you since then. there’s no perfect way for me to explain all of this, but i promise it’s really me.”

you being here, it’s like peter was in a five year trance and he snapped out of it.

he throws his arms around you, you laughing and threading your fingers through his matted curls. he’s convinced you’ll disappear again if he lets you go, so he holds you even tighter.

“y/n, baby. oh my god. i missed you so much. i’m sorry it’s such a mess here.” you wind your arms around his neck. “you haven’t changed a bit, pete.” “i brought you back, you brought me back.”

[spottedenchants]

(helping the self through another- recollected sorrows rest upon those who got out, who survived.)

(cw: vague references to Caleb’s backstory)

.

A forceful series of knocks reaches all the way to Caleb’s bedchamber and he is suddenly very awake, hazily pleasant dreams shattered.

.

This is strange, entirely abnormal.

Frightening, almost.

.

Without much thought, he rises and throws on a robe, passing through door and door to the final one.

.

He opens this third door, the one out to the rest of the tower, to find its only other current resident at his threshold, eye-to-eye.

The height is unsurprising given Essek’s favored locomotion.

.

.

But Caleb has never seen Essek like this.

.

A deeply haunted, half-present look in his red-rimmed eyes, his ears entirely away, followed by disheveled hair and rumpled clothing, an entire deconstruction of his usual well kept presentation. Arms crossed and clinging to his sides, clenched against the fabric there.

.

He’s shivering.

.

It’s concerning.

.

Concerning enough to call forth a faint echo of a cold, cold tower, a lingering memory of a warm, warm dorm room, and Caleb’s forearms itch at the involuntary recall, despite how weak he’s managed it to be.

But he keeps his hands away. Takes some breaths to stave off slight nausea.

This can’t be that. It’s not. This is different, Caleb knows. He knows.

.

.

But that look. And why is Essek shaking?

.

.

Caleb’s words escape as a hiss wrapped in worry.

“Essek, what is wr-?”

.

But dismay jolts his voice to a stop when Essek immediately glides even closer - very close - and raises a trembling hand to Caleb’s throat, wordless with shallow breaths, eyes narrowed, a slightly unfocused scowl pulling at his pretty lips and drawing his brows together.

.

Caleb dare not move in this moment, dare not swallow or breathe too deep, dare not react to this uncharacteristically bold motion because there is no hunger in Essek’s shining, panicked eyes, and atrophied habit carries no follow-up without it present.

.

.

Essek’s cold fingertips - is he actually cold or is this only further remembrance? - find that particularly vulnerable soft spot between jaw and neck and press gently, firmly, likely just enough to feel Caleb’s rapidly beating pulse.

.

Ah, that’s what this is.

.

Caleb dare not move, dare not scare Essek from this oddly executed assurance, this check he must be making with those intent eyes of now-dripping violet as they shift to bore into Caleb’s chest.

Right where Essek palpates cautious fingers against clothed scar tissue.

Right above the residence of Caleb’s hammering heart.

.

.

After an unbearably tense second or century, Essek’s face, his entire form, seems to crumple small as he lets out a shaky breath, hands tightening against Caleb’s robe, head bowed and tears now unseen.

.

.

Caleb dips his head, trying to catch Essek’s eyes.

“I’m alive.”

.

Essek looks away further, nods, and his breathing stutters into rough sniffles as he releases Caleb’s robe, voice watery.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Hands still raised and now directionless, Essek’s tensed fingers fidget with themselves, thumbnail sides pinched by fingertips, before swiping at his eyes, as if his teardrops are frivolous things to be plucked and crushed.

.

Caleb opens his arms, extending them to his sides and proffering a quiet warmth.

Essek trusts him to be here and this is different from so long ago.

.

This is not comfort for survival; it’s a conscious vulnerability on both their parts.

.

.

But Essek flinches at the motion, drifting back and away from Caleb’s embrace, away from this room they have spent time sharing, like they would catch and trap him, and he rights himself uncannily well despite the ways his face still leaks.

.

.

Disappointment, concern, and relief all burn together.

.

Essek does not need Caleb like that.

.

.

Even so, his muted, jarringly pleasant façade is askew; it doesn’t fit quite right anymore now that Essek has grown to encompass more than another vizard underneath. Caleb knows, can see hesitance slip through the cracks in the way Essek clenches his hands motionless.

.

Seeming to remember his magic, Essek clears his face and throat, mending the mask some.

“I’ll go. Thank you.”

.

Still, Essek stays of his own volition, untethered even to the ground.

.

.

This current bond between them is something very different from what Caleb had before, very different from what he and Essek had before; it’s something grown newer, blooming fresh of their own choosing, tended to on purpose.

This is alright.

.

So what can Caleb do but continue to pay forward a gesture of goodwill and good intent, born to soothe memory and fostered to mark safe opportunity, among other hopeful sentiments?

.

Slowly, slowly, as Essek watches with a level gaze, meeting his eyes all the while, Caleb takes a careful step out of the room.

Over the course of an eon, he raises a single hand to ghost fingertips over Essek’s cheek, to steady himself, to ensure Essek is willing to accept this smaller touch, and waits.

.

Though he does not flinch again through these snail-paced motions, does not back away from Caleb any farther, the mask slips as Essek seems to realize what Caleb is planning and he bows his head.

Squeezes his eyes shut and buries them under taut brows like he’s anticipating a swat.

.

This is nothing of the sort.

.

Caleb leans in and up, and presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s forehead before withdrawing both hand and face, volunteering no further touch.

.

He keeps the quiet, the closeness, but still asks, head dipped and voice soft, a murmur.

“Sit with me?”

.

No response, only the same grimace, the same clenched jaw. Tear trails reappear.

.

“I can show you how to count.”

.

Essek’s eyes open, violet deep as pre-dawn dusk and framed by dew-melt clung hoarfrost lashes, and they grow sharper, more focused.

“I know numbers fine.”

His eyebrows slant with what could even be read as defiance against presumed patronizing.

Good, good, welcome back.

.

Caleb crooks a gentle grin, feels the steep upturn of his brow line.

“But do you know my way?”

.

A tiny fleck of curiosity lightens Essek’s eyes, lifts his ears; it’s a shift imperceptible enough that Caleb would miss it had he not spent time deliberately learning the difference between its presence and absence.

.

So Caleb turns aside and pulls a cat-call cord, gesturing through the door to their well-familiar couch, before following his own guide. He takes the middle rather than his corner and pats Essek’s side of the seat, looking back to him, keeping his face open.

Essek follows and settles into his place, drifting down and pulling small, clearing his face again.

.

.

A moment more and then Gretchen, dutiful as ever, waltzes into the room with a chirp, making a point to rub against Essek’s idle hands as she jumps onto the couch on her way to Caleb.

.

“Hot cocoa, ice water, and some snacks, those little finger foods with fiddly bits that Jester brought last time, for my friend and I, ja?”

Gretchen purrs as Caleb scratches on either side of her jaw before she disengages, pesters Essek again to receive a few more disjointed pets, and pads away to fulfill the request.

.

.

.

As they wait, Caleb demonstrates how he counts for breath when difficult thoughts swarm and tension grabs his lungs tight.

.

Staying quiet, Essek breathes along, seeming to sink further into the couch with each exhale.

.

.

.

Cats come and go, filling the low table in front of the couch with drinks and nibbling tidbits.

Perhaps it would be best to keep such things handy and readily present, Caleb notes.

Just in case.

.

.

Without much deliberation, Essek claims a mug of cocoa, holding it between both hands, staring in as steam matches the jumbled swirls of his hair.

.

So he does want some warmth.

.

.

Having no specific appetite, Caleb only keeps watch on the fireplace, ready to follow along with whatever Essek decides next, even if that means Essek leaves entirely.

.

.

.

.

The hearth plays a crackling solo to the room.

.

.

.

.

Ice makes a single clink to glass.

.

“Verin taught me that, a long time ago.”

.

Caleb glances to Essek- he’s gripping his mug tight.

“Checking the pulse?”

“Mh... And I-”

.

Caleb waits, listens.

.

A sharp inhale.

“I apologize. For barging in and- doing that. I realize it was strange, unseemly, invasive. I couldn’t collect my thoughts well enough to say anything meaningful, but I should have kept boundaries in mind instead of falling to…”

Essek’s lips push flat as he releases his breath through his nose, an expression of consideration, Caleb decides.

“Buried… habit.”

.

Habit, hm.

.

Caleb absently runs a hand down his sleeved forearm before resting his hands together, held loose in his lap. Fingers to palm back, he kneads one thumb to the heel of the other, and looks back to the flames.

.

“Well, I’ll be prepared should it happen again.”

.

“Ah.”

.

.

Firelight catches in condensation, bejewelling the water pitcher with golden cabochons and veins of amber.

.

.

Caleb glances aside.

“Would you like to stay?”

Tired violet eyes turn to Caleb when he asks this, wide as the saucers on the low table.

.

.

Then Essek looks back to his untouched drink, nods reticent.

.

.

The ice in the pitcher catches Caleb’s ear when it shifts upon melting some from the fire’s warmth.

.

.

He tips his head to Essek.

“Would you like me to stay?”

.

.

Essek gives a wry huff to his cocoa.

“Would that be selfish?”

“I’d like to stay.”

.

A quick shift of violet to Caleb before Essek’s gaze returns to the mug.

“Then be my guest. Or- oh. I…. Ha.”

.

It could be a trick of the shifting firelight, could be Caleb’s sleepy eyes, but Essek’s expression seems to turn just a little tender, just a touch softer on the edges, as his voice lilts a murmur.

.

“I suppose I’m yours, hm?”

.

.

A gentle smile pulls at Caleb’s lips, and he watches as Essek traces the rim of his mug with a thumb, fingers and palms still held against its warming sides, the contents inside rippling slightly.

.

“Is there anything else you’d like? Anything to help?”

.

A glinting fang worries a lip. But no words.

.

“Show me?”

.

Essek looks up from his mug to Caleb, eyes flicking between Caleb’s, brows softly furrowed, but he neither says nor does anything further than the glance.

.

No matter what Essek could ask for, Caleb knows this is safe.

.

“I won’t run.”

.

.

A moment.

.

.

Caleb will give Essek all the time he needs to consider.

.

.

A moment more.

.

.

Then, careful and slow, not spilling a drop of his drink, Essek unfurls and abandons his corner in favor of tucking himself next to Caleb, going so far as to nestle his way under Caleb’s arm and press against his side, shoulder to hip, legs folded up and feet drawn under.

.

This close, Caleb can feel Essek’s tremors immediately lessen, can feel Essek’s chest expand and contract alongside his own.

.

Caleb can feel Essek’s fluttering heartbeat, rather in sync with his own.

.

.

They are both very alive, present together.

.

.

“This, if it’s alright?”

.

.

Caleb remains stationary, not wanting to spook Essek from this rare moment of outreach, looking into those too-careful, entreating eyes.

.

.

His heart feels fit to burst.

.

.

“Ja, this is alright.”

.

.

Essek blinks, nods, settles further into place and turns his eyes to the fire.

.

.

.

And so they sit, leaning side-by-side, breathing together, sweet steam warming the air around them, the fireplace casting its gentle warm light through crystalline ice water.

.

.

.

Essek’s eyes grow unfocused as he watches the flames.

Deep in thought, Caleb assumes.

.

.

.

Muscles held taut relax, slowly, slowly.

.

.

.

Eventually, Essek takes a sip of his drink.

.

.

Caleb, drowsy, comfortable, definitely does not stare when Essek reflexively licks the chocolate from his lips.

He definitely does not wonder how it would taste.

.

.

.

The water pitcher’s ice shifts again.

The hearth cracks in reply.

.

.

.

Caleb holds Essek close until he wants his space again.

.

.

Read I Lean In and Kiss Him [Right Here] on AO3

T, M/M, No Archive Warnings apply, Complete (5 Chapters, 10.9k)

[sketchguk]

a world alone; myg

➳ pairing: vampire!yoongi, street racer!yoongi x reader

➳ genre: modern vampire AU, street racer AU, bad boy AU, fwb AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 11.3k

➳ synopsis: the rest of the world will pay no mind to yoongi’s gentle soul. they’ll take one look at his etched skin, bruised knuckles, and gnarly scar and write him off as the bad guy regardless of the faded heart he wears on his sleeve. they think they know everything about your best friend, yet they’ll never know about his bloodlust and his need for speed.

➳ warnings: explicit language, mentions of drug and alcohol consumption, heavy petting, blood sucking, menstrual blood, oral (f receiving), handjobs, fingering, unprotected sex.

➳ a/n: this is dedicated to my delightful destinee, @yourdelights​ 🥺💖 i was heavily inspired by Lorde’s music, and I’m dying for her comeback!! yoongi’s character was also based on jess’ character from gilmore girls (shout-out to vic for reigniting my love for that show @minsprings​ !!)

Your parents always warn you about hanging out with the wrong crowd. They’re under the false impression that anyone who surfs the internet for “fun” and recreationally smokes weed in their parents’ basement — two crimes worthy of capital punishment — is inherently the offspring of Satan.

It’s quite melodramatic to say the least, but they don’t even know the half of it.

Sure, you understand the consequences of drinking fireballs until your throat is raw and getting plastered beyond recognition. You can also see why it’d be a bad idea to stick and poke needles into one another’s arms or to have unprotected sex. It’s inevitably a part of suburban culture when there’s nothing else to do in this deadbeat town besides pray to a God who doesn’t even care to listen.

But if they think their advice is going to stop you from being a quote unquote deadbeat, they’re gravely mistaken.  

There’s no harm in a little bit of indulgence, right? Because if there’s one thing you can’t wrap your head around, it’s reasons to stay away from Min Yoongi.

They claim that the infamous bad boy is “nothing but trouble,” but to you, there’s absolutely nothing dangerous about his warm eyes and gentle hands. He may be a little wild and fluorescent in the dark, but under the moonlight, the way he wraps you around in his ink spattered arms makes you feel safer than no other. Although Yoongi is anything but perfect, you can easily acknowledge that.

Yoongi has his flaws. A million and one bad habits to kick. He has tired eyes, no doubt from his unhealthy lack of sleep. His caffeine addiction keeps him up at night, yet you can’t help but spur it every time you secretly drop by his place with an americano in hand. Not only is his hot breath laced with coffee beans, but on occasion, it’s unmistakably mingled with some potent nicotine. To be quite honest, the taste isn’t as bad as your parents describe it to be. You’ve been trying to wean him off of it though, and it’s been working for the most part.

Rather, in place of smoking a pack a week, Yoongi subconsciously bites his nails. Even though chewing off his cuticles isn’t a healthy substitute either, it’s certainly better than killing his lungs and filling it with smoke. You can also admit to biting your own nails out of fear or anxiety sometimes, but ever since you started to hang around the older boy, the habit has diminished significantly. Nowadays, your mouth is fixated on other things your mother wouldn’t be proud to hear about.

In the hazy, quiet of the night, when the rest of the world is fast asleep, you situate yourself on top of Yoongi’s lap, straddling him on either side of his thigh just like clockwork. The novel you were once reading is long forgotten from your dainty hands, too busy carding it through his dark locks and pulling at his roots. Your mouths are preoccupied with one another as he’s the one to bite your lip, and you’re the one to bite your tongue, holding back secrets he’s not ready to hear.

With parted lips and clashing teeth, Yoongi rolls his tongue around yours. In a fight for dominance, you’d gladly submit to him any day. A gasp falls between your teeth and a shiver runs down your spine as he trails his cold hands down your sides, rubbing circles into your exposed hip bones with his calloused thumbs, never daring to dip further south without your permission.

He peppers kisses down the column of your throat with his swollen lips, sucking bruises into the tender skin. Yoongi focuses his attention at the base of your neck, lapping at the pretty love bites adorning your clavicle. You brace yourself for what’s to come by squeezing at his broad shoulders. Growing restless, you begin to bounce on his lap, begging for him to use you at his disposal.

The faint glow of the overhead lamp illuminates his profile, his honey skin glistening in the low light. Your heavy lidded eyes wills itself to open up, meeting your sight with the man beneath you. While your eyes darken with lust, a clouded vision of Yoongi overcomes you ー his pupils shining with an otherworldly brilliance, a golden glare so intense that you fall prey to him every night.

Your sultry eyes are pleading for him to sink his teeth into your flesh, and who is Yoongi to deny you of all the finer things in life? He caresses your waist with a soft touch, gently squeezing at your sides as if he’s too afraid to let go, but Yoongi is vastly acute of all your reactions. So with the nod of your head and a whisper of affirmation, you confess that you want this ー him ー more than anything in the world.

Yoongi runs his tongue over the most sensitive parts of your neck, sucking on the prominent vein at the juncture of your shoulder. He slows down to massage his teeth into your skin, biting gently before piercing your jugular with his canine fangs. All the blood in your body rushes through your vessels, satiating Yoongi’s bloodlust thirst. You’re at a loss of breath, panting heavily as you overheat under the scope of his fiery glare and the electrifying graze of his extremities.

In any other lifetime, you would revolt at the sight of blood and its metallic taste, yet in this time and space, you would allow your best friend to do anything he pleases ー even if his greatest wish is to suck the life out of you. To Yoongi, your viscous blood is sickly sweet and beyond addicting. He doesn’t have a clue as to why he’d ever pick up another cigarette when you’re the only addiction he needs.

As the life drains out of you, one drop of blood at a time, you can feel yourself grow weaker in Yoongi’s arms. You fall limp, becoming a victim to his voracious fervor. But Yoongi understands your limits, being so in tune to your body, and he’s sure to stop before you descend into a comatose.

Your lungs are starting to cave inside of you as heavy sighs escape from your parted lips. Weakly tugging on the strands of Yoongi’s hair, you warn him of the dangerous territory he’s about to enter.

Yoongi suckles at your punctured skin, running his tongue over the point of contact before retracting his fangs and sealing the wound he had gouged with a kiss. He wipes his mouth clean of any residue with the back of his hand, whispering a thank you into the shell of your ear.

You nod your head and wrap your arms around Yoongi’s neck to catch your breath, barely even conscious of his soft coos and gentle caresses. Your head is spinning on an axis, but you allow yourself to fall deeper into Yoongi’s arms, fully knowing that he’s always going to be the one to catch you no matter what.

His sweet nothings reverberate around your skull ー a deep voice echoing like a polyphony, lulling you into your rapture. He brushes your hair back behind your head, and before you know it, your cheek is nuzzling into the cotton of the pillows as he lowers your body onto the firm mattress.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for, but Yoongi’s delicate voice and quiet hushes bring you back to earth. You can feel his slightly chapped lips planting a kiss at the top of your temple and the soft tickle of his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Yoongi calls you by your name, fanning his breath over your plush cheeks until you stir back into reality. In your groggy state, your eyes unwillingly blink open, and although your vision is blurry, the sight of Yoongi and his precious smile is clear as day.

He helps you to sit up before passing you a glass of your favorite concoction. While you’re still stuck in a daze, your face instantly lights up at the sight of the tiny cocktail umbrella sitting at the rim of your cup.

“Small umbrellas bring big smiles,” he offers, “Drink up.”

It’s cheesy as hell, but you throw your head back to take a sip, making it all the more difficult for yourself when you can’t erase the larger than life smile from your lips. You’re instantly hit with the earthy taste of greens as there’s a mixture of kale, cucumber, and celery, but most importantly, Yoongi is sure to throw in a generous amount of spinach to replenish the iron that you’ve lost from his feasting. Even though most people would rather die than drink a blend of vegetables, you’re no stranger to Yoongi's Midas touch in the kitchen. He’s an expert when it comes to food, always going above and beyond without even trying. You can’t even fathom how a carnivore like him has gone as far as creating the perfect vegetarian steak as per your request – mentioned jokingly in passing, of course.

“You hungry?” He inquires.

You shake your head no, but he’s all ready to step back into the kitchen to prepare you a meal from the sparse ingredients in his low-humming fridge.

“Just want you beside me,” you pout, reaching for his hand, encouraging him to climb underneath the covers with you.

Yoongi gives into your wishes, interlacing his fingers with yours like it’s second nature. You lower your drink onto the stack of books designed to be a makeshift nightstand as he reaches for your paperback copy of Metamorphoses, lying precariously at the edge of the mattress. He settles beside you as you comfortably situate yourself across the bed, laying your head onto his lap and scrunching up into a fetal position.

Too wrapped up in your own world, you don’t seem to notice the presence of Yoongi’s ginger moggie until he’s curled up beside you, nudging at your bare arm, begging to be pet. You give into the scraggy feline, keeping busy, while Yoongi turns to your marked, dog ear page, finishing up Book IV with the story of Perseus and Andromeda.

Ideally, this is exactly how you want to spend the entirety of your Sundays. Although this is how your night always ends, it doesn’t always start off this way. Typically, you’re hanging around his apartment alone, pacing the age-old floorboards, biting your nails and waiting for Yoongi to arrive home safely from his lucrative hustle. You’d even chat it out with Yoongi’s kitten to keep your sanity intact, only to receive a hollow meow in return. Meanwhile, Yoongi spends his Sunday evenings doing all the things your parents warn you not to do. All in good faith, Yoongi earns some quick and dirty cash by participating in the underground street race scene. For you, it’s never been about the money, but more about his safety and wellbeing. And every week, with a few scratches in sight and give or take a couple of bruised knuckles, Yoongi returns home with a pocket full of cash like a double edged scheme. Regardless, you know for a fact that he does whatever he wants purely for his own happiness. It’s all for the cheap thrills, and if this is what he wants to do, who are you to stop him from doing so?

Yoongi rests his hand on top of yours to keep you safe when in reality, shouldn’t you be the one to do that to him? He’s reading the story out loud to you, and you’d probably never acknowledge this fact in the open, but in the repressed part of your subconscious, you’re more drawn to the deep lull of Yoongi’s voice than the enchanting story itself. The words go in through one ear, and out the other, but it’s not important because you’ve read this story at least a dozen times before. Instead, your attention is directed towards Yoongi and the subtle purse of his lips. Your eyes are fixated on the gentle slope of his rounded nose and the faint beauty mark that’s slightly off center.

It’s also hard to ignore the scar that cuts through the middle of his right eye. You don’t mean to stare, but it’s hard to believe that everyone perceives Yoongi as the tough guy because to you, he’s just… Yoongi.

Your Yoongi.

He’s the same guy who would save a stray kitten from the side of the road, befriending it and accepting it into his run down home despite the nasty claw mark that’s embedded into his face. And although Yoongi doesn’t have much to offer financially, he’d still give it his all to take care of the scruffy kitten. Per your informally formal one-woman petition, you’ve requested that Yoongi deem the domestic long-haired cat as San, and ever since then, he’s been inseparable with the little critter. It’s quite endearing to watch this man and his little bundle of sunshine cuddle like it’s nobody’s business or slow dance around the apartment with a cat in his arms in spite of his two left feet.

However, it’s upsetting how the rest of the world will never see the delicate side of your best friend in the same way you see him. Even now, as you lie in bed with him, fiddling with his pretty hands, you can never not think about how they fit perfectly between the spaces of your fingers, comforting you like no other man in your life could. You can’t even look at them without imagining how elegant they are when they’re dancing across the rusty and slightly out of tune grand piano in the corner of the room.

Even if his arms are inked in tattoos, the rest of the world will pay no mind to his gentle soul. They’ll take one look at Yoongi’s etched skin and write him off as the bad guy regardless of the faded heart that he wears on his sleeve.

“Remind me again why you like this stuff?” Yoongi wonders, placing the paperback face down on the bed. Your lack of attention causes him to call your name repeatedly until he finally resorts to poking at your sides.

“HUH?” You yelp, breaking out of your reverie, not fully comprehending anything he’s said in the last five minutes or so.

“Ovid.”

You lift yourself in an upright position, rolling your eyes at his blissful ignorance and lack of taste for Greco-Roman literature. “This is a relic of antiquity, and Ovid pretty much lays the groundwork for Shakespeare, bro. Pay some respect to his name.”

Yoongi breaks out in a smile at your term of endearment but shakes his head in utter disagreement. “You know I’m not a fan of Shakespeare,” he almost gags at the sound of his name. “I’ll admit that the dude has a way with words, and I applaud him for keeping up with the meter, but it’s just not my style.” Yoongi’s nose scrunches up in distaste, his eyes squinting shut.

“We literally wouldn’t have some of the greatest works known to humankind if Ovid didn’t exist.” Your arms run wild, waving in the air as if your points will come across stronger because of how manic you are. Perhaps you’re being a little too dramatic, but in your defense, Ovid is an absolute legend. “I mean think about it, we have The Tempest, Pygmalionー”

“Rousseau’s Pygmalion or Shaw’s Pygmalion?”

“To each one’s own, but you have to know that I’d pick Rousseau any day,” you shrug.

“Yeah, Shaw didn’t have that philosophical flavor, you know,” he chuckles. “I guess you have a point. Let’s not forget A Midsummer Night’s Dream though, a classic.”

An ear to ear grin spreads across your lips at the mention of one of your favorite works. You know that Yoongi is bringing it up for your sake more than his because of his strong hatred towards the brilliance that is Shakespeare. And you know for a fact that he likes A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but he’d never outrightly dare to admit how much he enjoys your book recommendations ー especially if they involve Shakespeare.

“I’m glad you see the error of your ways,” you smile smugly. “Besides, back to the point, Dickens was inspired by Ovid, and Oliver Twist is still your favorite novel.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, completely defeated by your argument. “Hey! That’s not fair now. It’s basically a social commentary about my life. C’mon, you’re gonna pull that card on me now?”

“Exactly, so you’re not giving him enough credit,” you plead with a pout. “We read this when we were in high school, but I think you’d really enjoy it if you gave it another shot.”

Yoongi bites his lips and picks up the book once again in hesitation, observing it from cover to cover. He plays with the myriad of pink post-it notes that protrude from the worn edges, flipping through the pages and thumbing through all of your annotations.

“Fine,” he grumbles, placing the book back onto his bed. “I’ll give it another try, and I’ll have a full, in-depth review ready for you by this weekend but... you have to come to my race on Sunday.”

“Are you serious?” You ponder over his proposition.

“Yep, that’s the deal.”

Although you’re still skeptical about Yoongi’s side hustle, you’d still support him no matter what (even if it’s in stubborn petulance). Shrugging your shoulders and saying “what the hell,” you give in to his proposal.

Yoongi flashes you his infamous gummy smile, and a warm, fuzzy feeling blooms in the center of your chest. Call it what you want ー elation, glee, fondness, tenderness, something entirely nuanced, or perhaps something above and beyond all of that. Regardless, it’s easy to shrug it off when the feeling comes and goes every so often.

And shrugging it off is what you do best.

Nevertheless, Yoongi’s willingness to appease you causes you to squeal and ramble on about how excited you are for his commentary. Your mouth is too busy running while Yoongi stumbles across his tiny studio, slipping on his shoes and shrugging on his army green utility jacket. He reaches for your outerwear and your white high tops while listening intently to your excitement about the activities you have planned for this Saturday. He hums in affirmation as he slides his hoodie over your raised arms and tugs the black material over your torso, getting you ready to sneak back into your parents’ home.

“Mmm,” he murmurs with a smile plastered on his lips, “Can’t wait, babe.” He tries to conceal his joy as he ducks his head down, sliding your Converse past your ankles and tying the shoelaces up for you.

With your grasp in his one hand and his car keys in the other, he ushers you out of his apartment and into his run-down 1986 Grandeur Azera. The neon green digital clock on his car radio taunts him, blinking every few seconds to count down the limited time he has left with you before kissing your cheek goodnight, or rather good morning, and sending you off to the sheltered life kept under wraps by your overprotective parents.

Yoongi tries not to think too much about the impermanence of the greatest things in his life as the slow burn of sunrise peeks over the horizon. Rather, he’s focused on how the car ride is filled with some of his favorite sounds ー the low hum of old school hip hop playing through his vintage radio and the ring of your laughter resounding over his stupid jokes.

The weekend rolls around quicker than you expect it to.

Days in the cul-de-sac are abnormally slow, especially when you’re in the midst of June. With each passing day, sunlight drags on a little longer because of the impending summer solstice. From the confinements of your window, it seems like all you ever do lately is watch the golden sun rise and set over the lake.

On occasions, your eyes are drawn to the far distance where there are freight trains that chug across the railroad at the crack of dawn. You can’t help but think about the places they’ll go and the things they’ll see in cities outside of your own.

In all honesty, you should probably do something more productive with your days. While everyone you know is complaining about work or studying for a degree they won’t ever use, you’re too busy studying the floor. And although daydreaming about the bright lights and city sounds is a way to kill the time, you’d much rather do it with Yoongi at your side.

Each second that you spend with him is more precious than the last. It’s hard to contain your excitement over the little things like movie nights at the drive in with him because it’s pretty much the highlight of your entire week, hence why you drop by his workplace extra early today – a whole hour before his shift ends.

Your presence is made known to the entire auto shop when the shout of your name is amplified throughout the garage. Of course, you catch Jimin and Taehyung dallying around before they even take notice of you standing in the doorway. They race over to engulf you in a hug, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Working hard or hardly working?” You giggle at the two boys.

Jimin lies through his teeth, as expected of him. “Working hard, of course.”

He grabs the mysterious, white paper box from your hands, curious as to what’s inside.

“Cupcakes? For me?” Taehyung asks with innocence in his eyes. He doesn’t even have to wait for your response because the two boys are already ravaging away at the sweet delectables.

Surely you had the boys in mind having stepped foot into the antique bakery shop earlier that day, hence the extras. But earnestly, out of the kindness of your heart, your primary goal is to surprise Yoongi with his favorite red velvet cupcakes. At the same time, you wouldn’t deny its leverage as a way to sway him and his opinions on the awe-inspiring Ovid.

“Don’t eat them all at once, okay?” You warn the boys before wandering off to find Yoongi.

You first expect him to be in his office, doing paperwork of some sort, so you make a beeline towards the backroom. However, there’s nothing in sight of his office beside his cold coffee perched at the edge of his desk. There are also scraps of yellow notepad paper with lyrics sprawled across the pages and a framed photo of the two of you. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s still not what you’re quite looking for.

You make your way out of Yoongi’s office and down the hall, continuing your search for him. You come to a halt when your ears perk up at the sound of a kick drum and a bass guitar laying down the beats to an iconic Nas song. The faint sound of music slowly crescendos as you lead yourself to the source.

It should be no surprise to you that Yoongi is hot rodding his car and making last minute improvements for tomorrow’s race. Yet again, you find him with his head between the hood, either replacing the worn out brake pads or the loose fan belt (in which he’s shown you how to do a dozen times before).

Yoongi’s reactions might be a little slow for being a vampire considering he hasn’t acknowledged your presence just yet. Sometimes he’s a little short of hearing, especially when his radio is a tad too loud.

The only reason he turns around from the car is because his right hand man has gone unusually silent. Yoongi doesn’t even know how long it's been since you dismissed Namjoon, telling him that you’ve got it covered. Nevertheless, he’s grateful because he can indulge in endless discourse about Metamorphoses, his new favorite anthology, rather than botany which Namjoon never shuts up about.

Being so lost in conversation about literature, and with the cupcakes long forgotten, the two of you hardly even notice the time that’s gone by.

“Boss, we’re gonna clock out,” Namjoon interrupts the two of you.

“Clock out? Oh shit, what time is it?” A quarter to six.

“We’re gonna be late,” you worry.

Yoongi digs his hand into the pocket of his navy coveralls, dishing out a set of keys. He hands them over to Namjoon before coming to his senses, thereby chucking it to Jimin who is arguably more responsible.

“Don’t fuck up,” Yoongi warns them, albeit without any menace in his tone.

Yoongi tugs off his coveralls before grabbing your hand and heading towards his car, listening to the boys wolf whistle from behind him. He shrugs it off, but the smug grin he bites back says otherwise.

He opens the passenger door for you, allowing you to settle in first. Then he does a half run, half walk around the hood. Putting the car in reverse, Yoongi rests his hand behind your seat and throws his head over his shoulder. He drapes his wrist over the steering wheel and zips off into the quiet roads where you can both talk nonsensically as if there’s something to say.

Saturday evenings always start this way.

With two souls as hollow as the bottles you drain and a brown, paper bag full of snacks from the dingy 7-Eleven down the block, you and Yoongi would recline your seats far enough to comfortably watch the movie on the big projection screen.

This must be your week because not only does Yoongi confess his new found love for Greco-Roman literature, but he’s also willing to brave through a romantic melodrama with you ー A Walk to Remember, no less.

Yoongi takes a lot of pride in never having to cry, but this time around, he doesn’t hide the stray tear that rolls down his face. The crying quickly subsides, but still, he gladly accepts the tissue you offer him with no denial in his eyes.

While the end credits roll and everyone has a chance to exit out of the car park, Yoongi would feed you the remaining gummy worms until the bag empties out. Meanwhile, you’d feed him the rest of the chocolate you’d rather not eat. The two of you would also take the time to digest the movie ー tonight’s topic of discussion revolving around the fact that Jamie and Landon deserved better.

But once the coast is clear, your mouth always finds its way to his. And somehow, the two of you always end up undressed ー or at least with your pants pulled down to your ankles. Usually, it’s the both of you, but sometimes it’s one or the other. This time around, it’s just you.

Yoongi always knows how to take care of you, but there’s something telling you that tonight isn’t necessarily your night ー the need for an orgasm being his first priority but a second one for you.

“I wanna make you happy,” he pleads. A double entendre you fail to notice.

But no matter how blissful his lips feel against your cunt, you’re still hyper aware of how bloodthirsty he is at this moment.

He doesn’t even try to hide his enthusiasm as he laps his tongue around your entrance, licking up the residue you’ve pooled from your time of the month. His hunger is insatiable, and it’s evident from the way he puckers his lips around your clit, sucking on the tiny bundle of nerves.

His tongue delves between your folds, playing with your juices, and it’s absolutely intoxicating. Yoongi’s overgrown bangs are parted when your hands find their way to his hair. His line of sight no longer obstructed by his dark, gelled locks. Your breath hitches in your throat when Yoongi looks up at you ー his irises gleaming with gold.

A glob of spit forces its way down your dry throat as you try to overcome this heady feeling. Typically, you’re a woman of many words, but Yoongi obliterates every thought in your head with just a single swipe of his tongue against your heat. A string of curses warble from your throat as he’s relentless in his endeavor, pushing his tongue in and out of your walls, massaging the tender flesh until it's raw.

Your jaw falls slack as your mouth parts open to release a sigh. “Ngh, pl- please, Yoongi,” you stutter out.

“Mmm?” He hums against your folds, sending shivers up your spine.

Your thighs quiver as you fight the need to clamp your legs around Yoongi’s head, but he’s quick to spread them, wedging his tongue further into your tight hole. It’s slick with your arousal, and the squelch of your juices is amplified further with the intensity of Yoongi’s ravage.

You can feel yourself getting closer to your impending high as your walls clench tighter, but you take it like the good girl everyone knows you are. You’re overcome with desperation as your hips cant upwards, rutting yourself against his mouth. Yoongi flicks his tongue over your clit to coax you to your climax, stimulating the nub until whimpers escape from your pretty lips.

It feels as if you’ve lost all of your senses as you reach the edge of your release, pleasure rippling throughout your body. You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, and you swear that you can see all of the stars in the night sky. Your chest heaves in an attempt to catch your breath, and your heart races as you descend from your high.

But as always, Yoongi is right there to catch you.

He licks his lips clean to collect every last drop of your sweet nectar. He presses a chaste kiss against your overly-sensitive clit before repositioning your underwear back into place. Then, he peppers kisses up your body and burrows his head into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against the column of your throat, revelling in the afterglow. Once your heavy breathing slows down and your heartbeat plateaus, Yoongi looks up at you with the pretty brown eyes you know and love. And although you’ve recovered from your high, your pussy no longer pulsating, the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest never dissipates.

Yoongi brushes his lips against yours before kissing you with fervor, saying all that needs to be said. Your mouths are having the unspoken conversation you’re too afraid to have when you’re both tongue-tied and trapped outside of your own mind. Whenever his lips meet yours, it feels as if the rest of the world is falling away at your feet. It’s comforting in a way that his words will never be.

But that’s okay because it’s precisely how you and Yoongi work.

He’ll hold you tight and kiss you goodnight, but you’ll just have to settle for that because the innermost part of your brain would rather wonder forever than know the disappointing truth about where you two stand.

You’re not quite sure why you haven’t been kicked out of the car park yet, but to be frank, you don’t really care and certainly neither does the security.

Yoongi is the first to break the comfortable silence. “You still coming to my race tomorrow?” His nose nudges against your cheek, and he lays a chaste kiss on your supple skin.

Your mouth presses together in a straight line as you contemplate your options. You’ve always been a little skeptical of his illegal pastimes granted that you’ve been raised to reprimand such activities all your life. But knowing Yoongi, you’d trust him with your heart and soul in his hands, and thus, you nod your head in agreement.

“Yeah, I’ll still come,” you shrug, humming in a low voice.

The two of you remain quiet in the backseat of his car, wrapped in the safety of one another’s arms, listening to the soothing melody that plays on the radio. Mindlessly, you trace the pretty ink on Yoongi’s forearms, running your finger over the ornamental designs.

“Is this new?” Your movements come to a halt upon spotting a piece of ink you’ve never noticed before.

Jamais seule written in a simple, fine line ink.

“Huh?” He asks, looking down at his wrist. “Oh yeah, Jeongguk did a custom for me earlier this week.”

In an attempt to hide your smile, you nestle your head into the crevice of his neck.

“What’re you smiling for?” A grin creeps onto his lips, but Yoongi doesn’t even need to ask because he knows better than anyone.

It’s just another reason to add to the list as to why there’s nobody in this world you’d rather be with than your best friend. At the thought of the tattoo, memories begin to flood your mind:

“Conjugate the verb parler in the imperfect tense.”

Yoongi refuses to answer the question. “Are you as hungry as I am?”

“Uhm, no? Yoongi, can you justー”

“My coffee’s getting cold. Do you want another cup?” Yet another excuse.

Your mouth opens up to refute, but he’s already on his feet, heading towards the coffee station at the corner of the cafe. Your hands cup around the mug that he’s left on the table, and you’re not surprised that the ceramic is relatively warm against your palms.

After spending the last hour studying for tomorrow’s French exam, you would have thought you’d make a breakthrough with Yoongi. But time and time again, he refuses to cooperate with you.

You don’t even know why he bothers returning to his seat when he doesn’t even care to study.

You let out a huff in another attempt to get him to learn. “Okay, let’s try this one more time. Can you conjugate the verb parler in the imperfect tense?”

“The coffee here is good, no?” Yoongi takes a sip from his mug once again, observing the hot liquid slosh around. The only thing he’s committed to is tiptoeing around his responsibilities (as well as his feelings, but that’s a whole other conversation).

“Look, I’m trying to help you study. If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. But if you want me to stay, then can you please focus and pay attention?” To no avail, Yoongi doesn’t respond.

“… Do you understand me?”

He doesn’t understand you. In fact, he’s on his phone, texting away and paying no mind to what you have to say.

“Bro, are you even listening to me?” You enunciate again with a scowl on your lips. Your jaw tightens as you pull out your own phone, angrily typing away at the keyboard.

You (1m ago): Yoongi, I want to help you study, so if you don’t want me here, I’ll go. But if you want me to stay, then can you focus and pay attention?? Please?? Do you understand me??

Yoongi (now): 🥺

Yoongi pouts and looks up from his device with sadness in his eyes. “I understand,” he mumbles under his breath. He finally puts his phone into the pocket of his hoodie and opens up his textbook, taking one step in the right direction.

You can’t say you didn’t try unlike all of your high school teachers. They’ve practically given up on the boy, seeing that he hasn’t shown up to class as he should. And when he does, he’s keeping it lowkey in the back of the classroom, sticking his nose in a new novel each week or scribbling away in his black, leatherbound journal. You’re not even sure how you got Yoongi to sit down with you knowing that he’s hard to get a hold of. But really, you’re just unaware that he’s afraid, always running away in the face of uncertainty.

Not even ten minutes go by before Yoongi is finding another excuse to fool around. It’s a whole new record, and you’re pretty proud of his accomplishment nevertheless.

“I’m sick of studying,” he groans with slumped shoulders.

“How can you be sick of studying? In the last hour, I’ve watched you make coffee and spin your textbook on your finger as if it’s a basketball.”

Yoongi’s lips press together in a straight line, but there’s no denying your observations.

“You’ve also tried to convince me that Tupac is the Mozart of our time. It’s not that I’m disagreeing with you, don’t get me wrong, but which part of this consummates studying?” You query with furrowed brows.

“Tell you what, let’s make a deal, okay?”

You shake your head at the thought of his proposal. “Oh, so you’re gonna bargain with me now?” Your voice is filled with exasperation.

“What do you think about ice cream?”

“What’s not to like about it?” Your arms cross over your chest as you lean back in your chair.

A wide, gummy smile spreads across Yoongi’s lips. “If we take an ice cream break, I swear that we’ll come back and study.”

A sigh falls from your lips because you’re not totally convinced, yet you ponder over the proposition. “I really doubt that you can keep your worー”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He mimics the motion by tracing his finger over his chest. “I’ll even drive,” he adds.

Your eyes squint, still uncertain.

“I’ll treat you,” he offers.

“Min Yoongi, you are one convincing dude,” you chuckle.

Closing your textbook and gathering all of your belongings, you chuck them in the backseat of Yoongi’s car and head off to the ice cream parlor.

You make it just in time before closing, being the last two customers in store that they have to kick out. While you pick a flavor as peculiar as butter pecan, Yoongi decides on a fruity flavor ー orange to be precise. The two of you enjoy your dessert, licking away at the sugary mess before it has the chance to melt onto the black, leather interior of his car.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” You pry, looking over at Yoongi.

“Shoot.”

“Why is it that you’re flunking when you’re smarter than 90% of the people at our school?”

“Ah,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “It takes more than intelligence to act intelligently.”

You scoff in rebuttal. “Seriously? You can quote Dostoevsky word for word, and I’m sure you can recite the entirety of Crime and Punishment in your sleep.”

You can see him shrug his shoulders out of the corners of your eyes. “I really don’t see the point when I’m not going to go to college.”

“Okay, so what’s your big dream, then?” You ask with worry laced in your tone.

“I don’t think you necessarily need to have a big dream.”

A drop of your ice cream melts onto your hand, and you’re quick to wipe it away. You’re shocked to hear what he has to say because everyone in this deadbeat town has a dream. It usually involves getting away from said deadbeat town. “Okay, enlighten me then?”

“You just need to be happy.” He’s stoic in his response.

“Are you happy?” You ask. It’s a loaded question.

He shrugs.

It’s quiet.

Moments go by.

Yoongi’s the first one to break the comfortable silence. “They’re flunking me because I’m truant. I work in the auto shop outside of town, so when I’m not in school, I’m picking up extra shifts there. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it’s enough to keep me alive, you know? It’s enough to cover the car too.”

Another drop of ice cream melts onto your wrist. You don’t fail to notice the fact that he hasn’t addressed your question. “But are you happy? Is this what you want?” You try again.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, pondering. “I’ve always thought about doing this, but... I want to drive out to L.A. and take my chance at music production or something.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry, it sounds stupid, I know.”

A fond smile makes its way onto your face. “I think that’s so cool,” you reassure him.

He cocks his head to the side as he tries to hide the smile that mirrors yours, but you can see his hard exterior break down before your very eyes. Nobody has ever believed in him the way that you do.

His eyes sparkle in the moonlight as if the galaxy lays dormant in his lonely irises. “... But the thing is, I don’t know if I want to be out and about in this world alone.”

You’ve never seen Yoongi so vulnerable before, and you never thought you’d have the chance to see it. So you comfort him in the way that you know best.

“Jamais seule,” you offer in consolation.

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“Jamais seule,” you repeat once again, placing your hand on his shoulder. “It’s French for ‘never alone.’”

He chuckles at your explanation. “Are you trying to make this a teaching moment?”

You nod your head in response, a proud smile making its way onto your lips.

“Okay, then what about you, huh?” He inquires. “What’s your big goal then?”

“Me?”

He nods his head. Of course he’s talking to you, but you’re taken aback because nobody’s ever really taken interest in what it is that you want to do.

“Realistically, I guess I’d be a teacher? When I was younger, I was thinking about doing dance, but I think I should specialize in French or maybe even English? I want to learn other languages too, but I’m not totally sure if I can make a career out of it.” Your nose scrunches up at the uncertainty.

Yoongi orients his body towards yours, taking in your profile. “Fuck that. Learn all of the languages you want to learn, okay? But tell me what it is that you really want to do now, unrealistically speaking.”

You look over at him, and your heart swells up inside your chest. A warm, fuzzy feeling overtakes you as you brace yourself to share this part of your life because honestly, you’ve never admitted it out loud to anyone before in part because nobody has ever bothered to ask or even care in the way that Yoongi does.

“I want to be a flight attendant.” It almost feels as if a weight has been lifted off of your chest as you heave out a sigh. “I want to see other countries, experience different cultures, and meet new people. I just want to see what the world is like outside of this town, you know?”

“I know,” he mouths. His gummy smile resurfaces on his lips as he nods his head, listening to you speak so passionately about your dreams. “I think you’d make the best flight attendant in the whole world.”

In the entire cosmos, there’s a short list of things that you genuinely love. One being the delicacy of antique books, worn and torn with age, brimming with the faded passages of time, two being chips and guac, the magic elixir to instant happiness, and three being Min Yoongi.

It should be no surprise to you that you’d do anything in the world for your best friend, but hanging around the dirt drag to watch tonight’s race is the last thing you would ever expect.

As you approach the spectator crowd, the smell of burnt rubber and seared tarmac infiltrates your senses. There’s a cloud of smoke rings floating around you while the people huff and puff on their Newports and Marlboros. Some of them even offer you a lighter, but you politely decline.

It’s pretty obvious that you don’t fit into this scene. You’ve never even shown your face in this part of town before, but everyone else seems to know one another relatively well, hanging out on the hood of their cars and getting drunk off bottles of Smirnoff.

“Hey, princess, take a shot with us why don’t ya?” Someone whistles.

You turn your head to the side, only to find a group of girls eyeing you from head to toe. “No thanks, I’m good,” you offer with a timid voice, shrinking away at their electrifying gaze.

Yoongi pulls you closer to his side, wrapping his arm around your waist and squeezing his fingers into your hip bones. His eyes glimmer with gold as he shoots daggers at the group of girls.

“Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know, okay? Stick with Hobi,” he whispers to you through gritted teeth.

It’s not long before you come across Hoseok, socializing with a group of people who appear to be crossfaded. Yoongi pats him on the back, drawing his attention away from the dead end conversation.

“Hey!” Hoseok shouts with enthusiasm. He wedges himself between you and Yoongi, resting his arms around both of your shoulders. He turns your attention away from the group of people he was once conversing with, walking in the opposite direction. But once you step far away enough, out of reach from the crowd, Hoseok sighs in relief.

“Thank God for saving me, I literally don’t know how much longer I can talk to them for,” he shakes his head and rolls his eyes in spite of the happy-go-lucky personality you’re so familiar with.  

The blare of an air horn cuts through the bustling night, indicating that the race is soon to start. Yoongi cups his hand around Hoseok’s ear to tell him something in secret, and in response, he nods his head in affirmation.

Yoongi turns to you and flashes his sweet smile. “When I win, I’ll treat you to whatever you want, okay? Ice cream? Pizza? Tom kha gai from that Thai place you like? Name it and it’s yours.” Yoongi walks backward to take one last glance at you before tugging his headset over his ears and running off to the direction of his car.

You smile to yourself as the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest begins to bloom once again.

You shout “good luck” to him as he steps away, but you know for a fact that he can’t hear you. He doesn’t need the luck anyways.

Hoseok taps on your shoulder, gathering your attention to lead you to the frontlines where you have a good view of the action. He fiddles with the device in front of him, tuning his CB radio, twisting the dial back and forth to find the right frequency.

“Agust D, this is J-Hope, OVER.” Hoseok shouts into his intercom with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Dude, we’re not gonna do this,” Yoongi complains through the static of the speakers. You can’t help but giggle at his response. It’s very characteristic of Yoongi, and you can already imagine the creases forming at the corner of his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Your eyes look over towards the two approaching cars, one of them being the black and yellow Grandeur Azera you know so well. Yoongi and his opponent toe their tires to the starting line, making sure it’s a fair game.

The host speaks through his megaphone, but it’s hard to hear over the screaming crowd. His words are muffled, and it’s nearly indecipherable, but he’s most likely explaining the rules and safety to everyone, or at least you hope he is.

Yoongi, being the cocky bitch he is, revs his engine over the voice of the announcer. Through his rolled down windows, you can see him tap his fingers over his mouth to let out a dramatic yawn. He even checks the time on his watch just to show off.

You shake your head at his overwhelming pride, and just in time, he looks over at you to send a wink. Despite the roll of your eyes, you can’t hide the heat that rushes to the apples of your cheeks.

The countdown begins as the announcer yells through his megaphone. The crowd amplifies his voice as they count alongside him. The two cars rev their engines, and it’s deafening to your sensitive ears.

An overwhelming sense of nervousness rushes through your veins, but you squeeze onto Hobi’s arm to anchor yourself. The thought of Yoongi getting into a fatal accident crosses your conscience, but you quickly wipe the image away from your mind. You trust Yoongi, and there’s nobody in the world who does it better than him.

In the blink of an eye, you nearly miss the cars zipping off into the dead of the night, too lost in your thoughts.

Looking over Hoseok’s shoulder, you can see the red and green dots floating across the monitor, the green symbol representing Yoongi’s GPS signal as he zips around the circumference of town. All the red symbols show the police hotspots within a 10 mile radius.

“Yoongi, right turn in 3 blocks,” Hoseok says into the intercom. According to the police scanner, the cops are too close for comfort.

“Yep, gotcha.” Yoongi’s voice sounds faded through the speakers.

In hopes of clearing the static, Hoseok fiddles with the dials. “What the fuck? I’m losing you.”

Panic rises to your chest as you watch the green dot speed across town, driving in close proximity to the law enforcement. Even worse, you’re losing communication with him. It’s nothing but static.

Hoseok slaps the radio in rage, but of course, nothing happens. “What the hell’s going on?” He even rips out the batteries and puts it back into the device to no avail. He looks over at you as if you have the answers, but you’re rendered useless when your mind draws a blank.

Hoseok pulls your hand away from your mouth, not even realizing that you’ve been chewing on your nails all this time.

“Well shit, now what?”

“Hope and pray?” He shrugs.  

At the sound of his words, your heart drops to your stomach.

Your hands begin to tremble as you monitor the screen. He’s cutting close to the finish line, but you have no eyes on his opponent. Meanwhile, the cops are spreading across the map, probably searching for the source of the disturbance.

Yoongi has yet to be caught, but he’s smart enough to maneuver through the backroads he knows better than anyone ー the ones he’s practically grown up on.

The green dot races across the screen, coming closer and closer to your marked location. The boisterous rev of an engine can be heard within earshot, so your attention shifts to the far end of the dirt path. Your heart pounds against your ribs as you cross your fingers, praying and hoping that Yoongi is the one who’s returning to you.

The lack of street lights makes it difficult to see down the cloudy road, but you never seem to give up, leaning over the makeshift barrier and tiptoeing above the crowd.

The sound of the engine elevates as the frontliner approaches. Your attention focuses on the two tiny, bright lights emerging from the distance. However, your vision is blurred as the two lights diverge into four. Another car follows behind it, charging full speed towards the finish line. Your hands squeeze around Hoseok’s wrist as the two of you anxiously wait to see the winner. The headlights illuminate at a greater lux as it speeds down the path. You begin to squint, trying to adjust your eyes to the light to make out the license plate number or at least something that’s telling of who the lead driver is.

But fear not, because a sigh of relief escapes from your lungs as the yellow detailings on the infamous Grandeur Azera is within sight. Yoongi crosses the finish line with full speed, and the crowd erupts in a roar.

He decelerates before coming to a full stop. There’s a haze of dust that trails behind his car, and a silhouette of a figure emerges from the smoke. It’s none other than Yoongi who trudges out of the car, and it’s unmistakable from his golden glare which shines through the exhaust.

You let go of Hoseok’s wrist in favor of racing towards Yoongi to wrap him up in the safety of your arms. He immediately reciprocates and melts into your embrace. He squeezes you tightly around your torso, and you fall further into his arms. Your nose presses against his shoulder, burrowing your head against the crook of his neck.

You chuckle through the stray tear that rolls down your cheek and onto the green denim of his jacket. “You idiot, you love scaring the life out of me, huh?”

Yoongi pulls away from you to cup your cheeks, angling your face so that he can gaze into your eyes. His irises slowly revert back to the shade of brown you’ve come to love. He wipes away the tears streaming down your cheeks and tucks a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“Iー” He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but he decides against it. Instead, his lips come crashing down onto yours, kissing you as if it’s his last breath.

“Care to explain what that was all about?” You slam the door shut behind you.

Yoongi refuses to answer.

The air doesn’t feel clear between the two of you, and it hasn’t ever since the kiss. It feels off. Tense, even. As a matter of fact, it’s been unusually quiet since the car ride home.

Your head has been spinning round and round because Yoongi never acts like this. Whatever it is that goes on between the two of you doesn’t go beyond the confinements of these four, egg white walls (with the exception of his car, of course).

But bottom line: It’s an unspoken rule that whatever happens between you stays between you.

Yoongi is sullen in his contemplation. He kicks off his boots, trudging into his apartment with heavy feet as if he’s a teenager ridden with angst. You would think that he’s retired from the days when he keeps to himself and feeds the world with the “I’m misunderstood” bullshit as some lame excuse. But yet again, he’s crawling back into the shell of the man he once was.

He chooses to ignore the obvious problem as he shrugs off his jacket and switches out one t-shirt for another. You hate the idea of him going to bed upset, but no matter how much you try to get him to talk, you’re left with utter silence.

Being tired and frustrated of his lack of communication, you decide to stand up from the edge of the mattress, plodding through the creaky floorboards to stand before Yoongi. You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, but his glassy eyes avert yours, looking anywhere but at you. All you can see is the faint beauty mark on the side of his nose, but never in your life did you think that you’d frown at the sight of it.

You opt for getting his attention by wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his bare chest, listening to the violent storm that pulses beneath the shell of your ear.  

His arms hang by his side. You squeeze him a little tighter, and he huffs out a sigh, falling prey to your touch. Your cheek is pressed tighter against his chest as he envelops you in a hug. His fingers trail up and down your spine in an effort to comfort you, but really, it’s more appeasing to him than to you knowing that you’re within arms reach.

“They tapped into my radio.” His voice cuts through the quiet air.

You swallow down the knot in your throat as you listen to his every word.

“God, they said some fucked up shit to me.” His hands clench tighter against the cotton of your t-shirt, and you can hear his heart pound harder against his chest.

A painful sigh escapes from your lips as you listen to the tremble of his voice. “Whatever they say isn’t true, you know?” You offer in consolation, “They don’t know you like I do.”

“It wasn’t even about me, ughー They were talking about you, and... fuck, Iー” Yoongi fights against the tears that are threatening to spill, the frustration evident in his tone.

Your heart shatters at the sound of his broken voice. “Yoongi, people are gonna talk, and nothing they say will ever matter, so just let ‘em talk.”

Your words ring through his ear as he harshly swallows a glob of spit down his throat. He thinks to himself in silence, wondering whether or not his words will ever matter to you.

“Can I tell you something?” He pulls away from you to take a better look at your expressions.

“Yeah, of course, anything,” you knit your eyebrows together and nod your head in solace.

Yoongi walks backwards until the back of his knees knock against the edge of his bed, allowing you to climb onto his lap, mounting his thighs with one leg on either side. He licks his lips to ease his nerves, anxiety bubbling up to the surface. His hands get clammy as he rests them on the curve of your waist.

But all of that dissipates once he fixates his attention on your eyes.

It feels as if you two are in your own little world together while everyone else dances around in the ruins of their dreams.

His eyes soften and a shy smile spans across his lips. “I love you.”

You’re taken aback by his confession, almost as if you didn’t hear him correctly granted his low murmurs. Your mouth hangs open, jaw slack. Your eyes blink, stunned by what you may or may not have heard.

It takes four and half seconds for you to register that ー holy shit ー did he just say what you think he just said?

“What’d you say?” Your brows knit together and your forehead creases asking for the much needed confirmation.

“You really want me to say it again?” He’s bashful as he hides his rosy cheeks in the crevice of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“Say it again,” you encourage. Your face starts to ache with the beaming smile painted across your lips.

Yoongi’s mouth curls into a smile to mimic yours as he peppers kisses against the column of your throat. He repeats his words once again, each syllable caught between a featherlight kiss.

“Iー” His lips ghost against your jaw.

“Loveー” Onto your chin.

“You.”

His soft eyes flash open to gawk at your lips, waiting for permission to kiss you where he so desperately wants to. He blinks, looking up to peer into the depths of your soul through the gateway of your irises. You can see the whirl of emotions in his eyes, a mixture between elation and tenderness and everything in between.

But above all, you can see the love.

A shy look is exchanged before you flutter your eyes close and lean forward to hesitantly brush your lips against his, testing the waters. But once he melts into your touch, you dive into the deep end, firmly committing to your desires.

It takes another half second for you to register that ー holy fucking shit ー you’re actually kissing the love of your life.

Although you are no stranger to Yoongi’s lips, something about this feels different. Yet again, you’re drunk off serotonin and intoxicated by his fiery touch. The world around you disappears alongside your worries and your troubles. All of your feelings, your emotions, your secrets, and all of your wishes are laid bare before you.

But what’s different about this kiss is that for the first time in your life, you know for a fact that this is what love is supposed to be.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you finally confess with your whole chest. Tears begin to form in your eyes and a smile that’s larger than life spreads across your lips, bringing pains and aches to your cheeks. But nevertheless, it’s all worth it because Yoongi loves you and you love him.

It doesn’t even register in your head that your back is now flat against the mattress, nor do you register the embarrassing amount of slick that has pooled at your entrance. At least not until Yoongi presses his fingers against the slim cotton of your underwear, teasing your folds with the glide of his calloused fingers.

“You’re wet already?”

You mewl upon his comment. “Can’t help it.”

Yoongi tugs off your shorts with your underwear in tow. His mouth reconnects with yours in longing, and his lips taste exactly like blackberries, bay leaves, and blissful midnights blanketed underneath the stars.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you shudder under his touch as he grazes over your clit. His finger dips between your folds, collecting your arousal before rubbing soothing circles over your sensitive nub. Your heavy eyelids fall close, and Yoongi watches your face contort in pleasure, your eyebrows creasing together.

Growing restless of his teasing, you lurch forward to palm the tent in his pants. You will yourself to open your eyes just the slightest bit.

“Hard already?” You tease with raised brows.  

“Can’t help it,” he echoes.

You pull on the fabric of his jeans, begging him to remove the material from his legs. He obliges while you strip your top off.

At the sight of your bare breasts, Yoongi’s lips find its way to your pert nipples, hallowing his cheeks and sucking on the tender flesh until the blood rushes to the surface of your skin. His hand trails its way down your body, dipping two fingers into your tight hole, pumping in and out to massage your walls.

A thick glob of saliva forms in the back of your throat, and you sputter it into the palm of your hands. Reaching down for Yoongi’s shaft, you jerk him off exactly how he likes it. Your thumb traces over the tip of his cock, swiping over the slit as he leaks beads of precum.

Yoongi sighs as you work faster, milking him for all of his worth. He grips his hand around your wrist to slow down your movements, wanting to change it up. Instead, he trails kisses up your body until he’s hovering over your lips.

“Don’t wanna come like this,” he says with a heavy sigh.

His hand replaces yours as he pumps his length and lines it up at your entrance.

You brace yourself by squeezing your hands around his shoulders, clinging on to him for dear life. He pushes his member one inch at a time until your fingernails dig into his supple skin, dragging him down to meet your lips.

A gasp falls from your throat as the angle changes, and he pushes deeper inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” you quiver.

Yoongi lays a kiss upon your cheek before meeting your eyes once again. “You okay?”

“Better than okay,” you nod.

A blinding smile makes its way to Yoongi’s lips and you can’t help but reciprocate. He pushes his length further until he’s balls deep, his pelvis pressed up against yours.

You throw your head back against the mattress, exposing the blank canvas of your neck. For a second, his eyes are gilded with gold, but it quickly regresses. His tongue runs over his bottom lip before languidly licking a stripe up the side of your neck. He suckles on your skin until it discolors, leaving behind a love bite that’s none other than a mark of his love.

As you finally adjust to the thick stretch of Yoongi’s cock, you start to fidget, rutting your hips against his.

“Yoongi, please move,” you cry out, wrapping your legs around the small of his waist. And you swear you could physically cry in this very moment.

At your request, his hips begin to thrust, fucking himself into your wanting pussy. With the drag of his dick, you can feel every inch of him move inside of you. Your walls contract and mold against his shaft, his balls slapping against the curve of your ass. The filthy sounds fill the tiny space of his studio apartment, as does the squelches of your arousal.

Yoongi bites his lip as he relishes this very moment. The way you look beneath him, taking his cock like a good girl, fucked out and in total bliss as a dribble of spit cascades down your lips. He tucks his hand underneath your chin to wipe away at the saliva, only to fall back down into a plank position.

Your chest heaves and your head lolls to the side. You can hardly see through your eyelids which are falling shut, but somehow, you resist, seeing the pretty ink that’s engraved into Yoongi’s skin. The most prominent one ー and also the newest addition to his sleeve ー being at eye level. Leaning over the slightest bit, you press your lips against the simple, fine line ink.

A fire within Yoongi is ignited upon your action. His hips begin to stutter, reaching close to the end of his release. He sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking on the digits until they’re nice and wet. His hand trails a path down your body, only to find its way to your clit. It’s hot and slick down there, especially with the newly added pressure.

A series of moans tumble from your lips as he relentlessly rubs harsh circles onto your nub.

“Oh my god, Yoongi ー Yeah, just like that,” you whimper when the tip of his cock pushes against your cervix. Your eyes are starting to water at the immense amount of pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?” He smirks, “Like that?”

His thrusts are harder as he quickens the pace. Your body drifts further up the mattress with the force of his hips and your arms wrap around his upper torso to keep yourself anchored. Your fingernails scratch the surface of his skin, leaving behind a trail of red marks down his back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Yoongi, Iー” A strangled noise escapes from your parted lips.

“Yes, baby? You can come for me.” The soft coo against your ear contrasts against the harsh slap of his hips, sending you further into your release.

“Yoongi… I- I love you,” you manage to sputter out, albeit weakly from the current, fucked out state that you’re in.

At the sound of your confession once again, Yoongi grunts harshly, his breath fanning across your face. His cock grinds harder against your cervix as he chases your high.

The knot in the pit of your stomach unfurls with a harsh thrust, and you dissolve into pleasure. Your walls clench around his dick which continues to pound into you. Your body heats up and your heart races a hundred beats per second as waves of bliss come crashing through you.

Yoongi molds his lips against yours, kissing you with ardor. As you tremble beneath him, your vision starts to blur and your eyelids fall shut, yet with a few more pumps, Yoongi is releasing himself inside of you, painting your inner walls white with his cum. He collapses on top of you, chest heaving.

Your pussy is bare and battered, but you wouldn’t have it any other way with sticky thighs and Yoongi’s pulsating cock inside of you.

The two of you lie down together in the safety of one another’s arms in an attempt to catch your breath. Your fingers run through his raven locks as he rests his head against your chest, listening to the come down of your beating heart.

In the dead of the night, the air in this tiny space is quiet and still while every other deadbeat in this town runs rampant in the world, yet you wouldn’t have it any other way as long as you are never alone.