#I think about Seven saying she misses the 'voices' of the collective and how alone she felt without them and I look at Tuvok and I go hmmmm

[bumblingbabooshka]

Hi,

I really like your art and I love reading all your ideas in your tags. I especially like how you go into Tuvok's bond with T'pel and how her absence affected him.

Since his bond was a combination of two minds creating something greater than the sum of its parts, how do you think this affected Tuvok when he and Neelix were fused as Tuvix? The relationship and similarities between being fused and having a bond mate. Do you think that Tuvok may have felt whole for a bit? Was it super invasive and in no way comparable to what he had with his wife? Or was is painfully similar, in that he longed for it. I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter. :)

(I'm really sorry if you already went into this)

I'm so sorry this took so long when you were so kind to me v_v I just forget things. Also!! There's no need for you to be even a little bit sorry let alone 'really' sorry~!! I haven't talked about this and even if I had - whatever, 's all good~!! I think the Tuvix things would be distinctly different from a meld or a marriage bond and I illustrated this in pictures bc it helps me visualize it better! (They're just lil sketchbook doodles)

So like, using Tuvok/T'Pel for this since she's his bondmate. When Tuvok has a stable bond with T'Pel they are 'two bodies one mind' but since they are two bodies and do different things all day/have different personalities/upbringings their 'one mind' is constantly being shaped by the two of them. They are distinct beings who are just constantly sharing ideas, thoughts and feelings with one another. They're more of a 'unit' in my mind than a singular person. I used the IDIC symbol to visualize this bc I realized it was sort of similar; two seemingly disparate shapes come together to make something beautiful, but you can still see all the parts that make the whole. Meanwhile Tuvix is a distinct person. Neelix and Tuvok don't communicate while they are joined within him (as evidenced by the fact that they can't be asked their opinion on separating him in the episode. They have essentially 'died' in order to make Tuvix) and Tuvix seems to view them as more his parents. They provide a certain amount of background for him (he remembers their relationships with people) but has his own will and talents separate from them (He appears to be shown as very charismatic which neither Neelix nor Tuvok seem to be in canon, though I personally find them charming). I would characterize Tuvix more of a 'son'. Tuvok and Neelix's experiences are his 'upbringing' but they are no longer there to have opinions on what's happening. He can guess what they would think but as he's a distinct person his thoughts on them are colored by his own personality. (As evidenced by him saying they'd both want him to live which Janeway challenges) I visualized this through numbers. When you see the number '3' you can imagine how it got there...2+1, 4-1, etc but you can't see it. I also wanted to show two people who are not bonded. As you can see Tuvok is a 'whole' person without a bondmate but I imagine he wouldn't feel that way because of how long he's operated as a bonded mind. As he said, "I feel incomplete without them." To me it doesn't seem that being part of Tuvix would be comparable to a bondmate as 'Tuvok' doesn't exist while part of Tuvix. He isn't a 'unit' he's a small and static component of a completely different person. Hypothetically, if Tuvix had been allowed to live he would have probably eventually stopped closely resembling either Neelix or Tuvok as he would have other things and experiences to draw from in regards to who he was. It's sort of the difference between discussing where you want to eat with someone else as opposed to reading online reviews?? You wouldn't really say you came up with a decision together in the latter case.

But I also don't think Tuvok would find it invasive. I think he would find things like his brainwashing by Teero or being assimilated into the borg invasive but the Tuvix situation feels more like he'd think it was 'interesting' or 'mildly disconcerting'. He might vaguely dislike the thought of almost being unfaithful to his wife but also have to just accept that Tuvix wasn't him v_v which I think he could do pretty easily. Maybe Neelix would be more perturbed by it hehe...~

#Q&A #40cleverways #this was a very interesting question and also I love talking about Tuvok and how I see Vulcan bonds #so I REALLY don't know why I didn't ans wer it for like SO long I'm SORRY #It's honestly amazing ppl wanna ask me stuff about things so thank you very much~!!! #I hope this answers your question~!! And hey - this is only my opinion...it's canon gray area! #if ANYTHING I would think him being assimilated into the borg would weirdly and complicatedly be more similar #though still not exactly like it (as borg have no free will) and very invasive/frightening #I think about Seven saying she misses the 'voices' of the collective and how alone she felt without them and I look at Tuvok and I go hmmmm #same hat???????? #st voyager

[hyuuukais]

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, physical abuse, someone passes out, blood mention, y/n is called 'darling' and 'honey' in a negative context

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVEN • GHOST TOWN (2.1k)

"Yeji?" Minho mouths. "How...?"

"I don't know," you mouth back, uncovering the phone speaker. "How did you get this number?"

Thinking back, you could've sworn you never gave it to her, even if you told her almost everything else. She wasn't supposed to know where you were or how to contact you. It didn't matter that she helped you get away, she still couldn't know the details. Leaving her and Minho with no information was intentional- then he could never find you.

"Please, you have to help me," Yeji's voice is low, soft, hurt. "He- he-" she hiccups, trying to catch her breath. "You know what he's capable of when he wants something. This letter came in the mail with a number saying it was you and I couldn't believe it, but it is you. Oh, Y/n, I've missed you so much."

"Get to the point." You don't want to be harsh, but the mention of your ex agitates you. A hand brushes over yours- Minho. "What did he do?"

"Nothing he hasn't done to you," she speaks calmly, more collected. "Do you ever miss him?"

"What?"

"He misses you, you know." Movement on the other side. "Maybe you'd like to say hi?"

Every muscle in your body tenses. "No. I don't want to."

There's no response, just more shuffling. You can hear a door open followed by some hushed words. The door closes, leaving you hearing someone else's breathing. At first, you're scared, because Yeji is right; you do know what he's capable of and you know he would go to great lengths to get to you.

"Darling?"

You drop the phone. Hearing his voice so clearly without much warning sends an electric shock through your system; you're paralyzed. Everything starts to turn dark around you and you can only hear the sound of your own breathing.

At first, you think you're going to faint, but then you hear footsteps echoing. They seem to be coming from behind you, then to your left, in front of you- even above you. You're alone in a chamber of nothing, seated on your knees instead of your couch. Someone is approaching and you can't run, you can't even put your hand down from where it was previously holding a phone up to your ear.

"Honey?" His voice rings out distantly, the echo still present. "I know you're out there. I'll find you."

The footsteps stop.

Standing in front of you, he places delicate fingers beneath your chin. Tears you didn't notice forming fall and he wipes them gently, but you know what's coming. He's never been fond of wet eyes, they show weakness. Isn't that how he wants you though? Weak? Well, he already knows you are, no need to show him.

"Darling, what did I say about crying?" Your face is lifted ever so slightly. "Look at me." When you don't meet his eyes, he sighs, pushing your face away harshly. "Fine. You won't look at me? I'll make you look at me."

Rough hands clasp your neck and the back of your head, tangling in your hair. Against your will, you let out a small noise knowing you'll pay for that later as well. Now your face is directly in front of his, him leaning down slightly to meet you. His dark eyes bore into you. The expression on his face reminds you of your moment with Chan a few nights before. Then you realize-

This isn't real.

Once the thought registers he drops you, your office fading back into existence. Faces appear in your view, loud voices muffled by the ringing in your ears. Blinking a few times, you see Minho and Chan above you clearly. They appear to be crouched by your side, but more focused on yelling at each other than helping you. Your head falls to the right spotting the abandoned phone about a foot away from you, reaching out to grab it. This sudden movement startles the boys.

"Y/n! Are you okay-" Chan begins.

You're not focused on them either, scrambling away with the phone before they could take it from you.

"Who are you?" Silence. "I know you're not Yeji; who are you?" Still nothing. "God damn it! Just tell me who you are! And why you're messing with me! My life was perfectly fine before you showed up, before fucking up reality, before bringing Minho back and all these feelings- just leave me alone."

A sob racked your body, leaving you clutching onto the ground for support. No one was answering, but the line wasn't dead. Someone was still there listening to your pain and hurt; playing with you. After what feels like forever, you've calmed down, and a voice you don't recognize comes through.

"Wouldn't that ruin the fun?" Then the line goes.

Shivering, shaking, your body's gone cold. Someone is touching you, but it's not enough to pull you out. Soft whispers in your ear, soothing circles on your thigh.

On the outside, you look like you've left your body; you're all fear and no soul. Whatever you saw must have been terrible. Chan and Minho have stopped arguing to come to your aid, doing all they can think of to help you. Minho wraps a blanket around you as Chan stays by your side, whispering reassurances.

"Has this ever happened?" Chan looks at Minho, shoving his rising panic deep down. "Before? When you were friends?"

"We are friends," Minho replies, although he isn't sure. "And not that I can think of."

"Who's Yeji? What could she have said to set Y/n off like this? And why is all of this happening now?" Chan questions, but there's only so much Minho knows.

"Yeji's her best friend, other than me. They've known each other forever, I think they were neighbours as kids, them and Hyun." He leans back against the wall next to you, looking over at your blank face. "People used to joke they were secretly in love. You couldn't pull those two apart no matter how hard you tried. Even though we were close, I always knew I'd never be the person she'd go to for everything, that spot was taken."

There's something in his voice, a sort of longing that Chan catches. His feelings are expertly hidden behind a neutral expression.

"As for your other question? I don't know. They told each other everything, so I don't think there's much she could have said that would affect Y/n like this. Maybe it was just hearing her voice?" He exhales slowly, closing his eyes. "I heard the word 'letter' before the conversation ended. A letter was sent to me with her address, so I can only assume the same for Yeji."

In the corner, your laptop makes a noise. The two look toward it, the screen facing away from them. Hesitantly, Chan gets up, walking over and reading the note aloud.

"She's onto something," he reads. "She... Y/n? Or maybe Yeji..."

"I understand Y/n's frustration completely," Minho groans.

Inside your mind, wheels are turning, putting pieces together. There's not enough to figure out the puzzle quite yet. For now, you must play the game.

"Let's visit Mrs. Yang tomorrow," you say, startling the boys.

"Really? Mrs. Yang?" Chan kneels in front of you. "Why her?"

"We won't actually be seeing her, but her son," you look up, exhaustion in the lines of your face. "He's always known more than he's supposed to."

"Cause that's not fucking cryptic," Minho mumbles, pushing himself up off the wall. "What the hell just happened to you?"

"I don't want..." You pause. Maybe it was best to tell them. "I saw Y-" you take a deep breath. "I saw Yeonjun."

You explain to the best of your abilities as they sit quietly, absorbing the information. No one talks for a good ten minutes after, and you understand why. You sound fucking crazy.

"Let's... let's sleep on this," Chan says slowly. "Then head for Mrs. Yang's first thing tomorrow morning."

-

Morning came quickly, only getting a few restless hours of sleep each. Minho woke first, preparing an energizing breakfast for you all. By the time you made it down, Chan was already halfway done. He had slept in the office, Minho officially occupying your spare room after complaining about you not offering it when he arrived. In your defense, you didn't expect him to be staying so long.

Entering town felt strange with no one around on the usually busy main street. Chan had notified his employees that Lily, the assistant manager, would be fully in charge over the weekend as he needed a few personal days off. Looking in, the café appeared empty and still closed despite the signed being flipped to open. Local businesses seemed empty as well, leaving you in a ghost town.

"Where is everyone?" You wonder out loud. "Weekends are always the busiest."

The bookstore comes into view, but your hope of Jeongin being there has seriously diminished. All signs pointed to the bookstore being empty just like every other building, and you wanted to avoid showing up at his door randomly.

"Jeongin?" You call out as you open the door, making a beeline for the counter. "You here?"

You round the counter. Behind was a door that blended into the wall leading down into a basement lounge for employees. If he wasn't up here, he was sure to be down there, and if not then you'd be forced to find him at home.

"Jeongin?" You call out again, growing anxious.

There's the sound of a chair moving back. "Y/n- you- I didn't think you were in today? Jesus, you scared the shit out of me."

"Don't let your grandmother hear you talking like that," you joked, coming into view as his face turned red. He stares behind you. "I know we're not allowed other people down here, but you can keep a secret right? Besides, you're not gonna want to tell Mrs. Yang anything about this visit if you still want your head attached."

"I'm sorry?" He squeaks out.

"You still into witchy stuff?"

"It's not-" he moves his head in an irritated motion. "That's not accurate."

"Whatever, not the point. Are you?" You ask, he nods. "Can you... can you do it for me?"

"I can try, but you know that's not how it works." He cracks his knuckles, then motions for you all to sit at the round table with him.

The lounge isn't fantastic, a small room with a fridge, microwave, and the little table. There's a sliver of a window on the back wall, but light is blocked by the weeds growing outside of it. Paint on the walls peel slowly, dingy and yellow with age. Across the hall was a bathroom, mimicking the vibe of the lounge.

"Give me your hands." The dim lighting made Jeongin seem more intimidating.

You'd never asked him to do this for you, only hearing him talk about it once or twice. His grandmother didn't approve of his 'ability', so he wouldn't talk about it often with her around, and she was always lingering close by unless he was working. You could understand; he's away at school for the week, she must want to be close when she can be.

Jeongin's hands are cold when he takes yours and closes his eyes. "This might take a minute."

Patience wasn't your thing, but you'll have to make it work. Several minutes went by before anything happened. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth, head moving down toward the table slowly.

"It's all... black. There's something there, but it's deep down and I can't quite reach it," his voice is low, almost a whisper. "I don't think it likes me in its space."

"Like that's not the creepiest thing he could have said," Chan says, rubbing a hand down his face.

"Shh! I'm trying to focus," Jeongin scolds, face scrunching up. "I think I'm getting close... ugh, the atmosphere is terrible."

Thanks, you think, not wanting to interrupt him, I really wanted to hear the vibes of my psyche were shitty.

His hands grip yours harder, head close to the table. Part of you is worried; how badly is this affecting him? If your reaction last night could tell you anything, it was that he had to stop before getting too deep.

"Jeongin-" He inhales sharply, stopping you with a shake of his head.

"Almost there..." The air around you drops in temperature. "This thing... it's not- it's not human, Y/n. Whatever's plaguing you is bigger than us, stronger than us," his breathing picks up. "Oh, it really doesn't like me here."

With a jolt, he lets go of you. He makes a pained noise, clutching his chest with one hand and the edge of the table with the other. Immediately you're by his side, hesitant to touch him, scared to cause more pain. He coughs a few times, body going limp and falling into you; he's passed out, a bloody trail down his nose.

●

notes • hehehehehehehehehhehehehe :)))) the urge to post this chapter early won. jeongin has supernatural powers or whateva !!

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart @kangaracharacha

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

#.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :- #skz #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #skz x reader #skz series #bang chan series #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #bang chan fanfic

[coll2mitts]

#31 On the Town (1949)

It took me until The Year of our Lord 2022 to realize that Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra filmed SEVERAL movies together.  There's Anchors Aweigh, On the Town AND Take Me Out to the Ball Game.  How?  HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?!  While I was booting up On The Town and casually wondering who would pull my attention more, I discovered ANN FUCKING MILLER and VERA ELLEN were also in this film and I about died.  Just a bunch of super hot and super talented people all in one movie, like, sure, I'll be fine.  EVERYTHING IS FINE.

On the Town, or as I like to call it Anchors Aweigh: NYC, is Gene Kelly and Stanley Donan's directorial debut.  Gene claims it is one of his favorite pictures, and it hits a lot of the same beats as An American in Paris, which I think says more about Gene's directing style than it does Stanley's.  But the reason films from this dynamic duo succeed is because they are both choreographers and know how to frame dance numbers in order to showcase the talent of the performers.  Dancing is a priority and not an afterthought like in SOME MUSICALS.  This film is also regarded as the first musical to ever be shot on location, which Gene Kelly insisted upon to correctly get the look and feel of New York City.  You wouldn't entirely realize this because of the awkward utilization of green screens in the majority of it, and also because it's not true.

Gabey (Gene Kelly), Chip (Frank Sinatra), and Ozzie (Jules Munshin) are three sailors on 24-hour shore leave in New York City.  While Chip is interested in seeing the sights, Gabey and Ozzie have other things on their mind... mainly women and sleeping with one or seven or eight of them.

While on the subway to their next destination, Gabey falls in love with a picture of Miss Turnstiles, Ivy Smith (Vera Ellen), and makes a bunch of assumptions about her character based on only a photo which proves Gene Kelly has learned nothing about how accurate Henri's description of Lise was in An American in Paris.

Gabey steals the poster for his collection, and then immediately runs into Ivy during an impromptu photo opportunity in which he reveals he's pocketed her photo for alone-time festivities.  She responds appropriately with a trepidatious, "I'm terribly flattered you liked it well enough to take it with you," before scurrying away from him as quickly as possible into the nearest subway car.

As the train pulls away, Gabey decides he must hunt Ivy down, and the only way to do that is to hail a cab to head her off at the next station.  They run into Brunhilde Esterhazy (Betty Garrett), a female cab driver, who instantly swoons the second she hears Frankie's voice.  When Chip asks her why she's driving a cab after all the men returned from war, she responds, "I never give up anything I like", with obvious heart eyes and so much syrup in her voice that I think I fell in love with her at that moment.  She agrees to help them on their quest to find Miss Turnstyles only if Chip keeps close to her, and immediately propositions him for sex, which like, yep, I like a girl who knows what she wants.

After missing Ivy at the next station, the boys decide to follow the clues on the Miss Turnstyle’s poster that lists Ivy’s interests and schedule, I guess?  Their first stop is The Museum of Anthropological History, where anthropology student Claire Huddesen (Ann Miller) happens to run into Ozzie, who resembles a textbook caveman so closely she immediately decides to jump his bones.

If I were Jules Munshin, and the props department told me I wasn't allowed to take this statue home with me, I would riot.

What follows is an interesting musical number that features thirsty AF Ann Miller and all kinds of problematic choreography and costume choices.  I'm not going to defend this, but if you can overlook how fucking cringe it is, it features a tap solo that only proves how fucking dynamic Ann Miller is with, as she says, the world's most expensive chorus behind her.  The group gets so frothy by her exhibition of sexual prowess that Ozzie knocks over a dinosaur and they’re all forced to flee the building to avoid being arrested.

With the addition of Claire to their party, Hilde pulls a Fred Jones and suggests everyone split up, against the advice of every D&D DM.  She rationalizes this will increase the odds of finding Ivy because they will be searching more places at the same time.  Claire and Ozzie agree because they want to go back to her place to "check the social register", and Gabey reluctantly accepts that he may be on his own in his quest to get his dick wet.

Immediately, once the two of them are alone, Hilde attempts to put the moves on Chip, and he rebuffs her advances until they're up in her apartment, cock blocked by her sick roommate Lucy Shmeeler.  When Hilde makes a thinly veiled threat on Lucy's life, Lucy bolts and Chip ultimately succumbs to Hilde's charms.

Meanwhile, Gabey miraculously discovers Ivy at her dance school, which is a weird thing to list on a public poster in the off chance that some sex-starved sailor wants to stalk you.  She lies and confirms his assumptions she's a famous, native New Yorker, which only sets him soaring when she agrees to meet him for a date later that evening.

When the gang reunites on the top of an Empire State Building so unencumbered it allows people to throw guide books and bodies off the side of it, they realize the cops are still trailing them because of their bone-related vandalism and theft of a taxi cab Hilde never returned to the garage.  After tricking the oblivious officers, the pairs are overcome with the endless possibilities the night holds for them.

Frank Sinatra could murder me and I'd thank him.  His voice remains to be one of the best things I've ever heard, and no amount of Bubles or Uries will ever compare to it.  I will concede, however, that he does not dance as well as he sings.  This is, of course, in contrast to Ann Miller, Gene Kelly and Vera Ellen, and it's completely unfair to put anybody on the same stage as these giants and assume they'd stand out.  Frank can hold his own (he did, after all, have Gene Kelly as his teacher), but he never looks comfortable with it.

Sidenote: I find it fairly hilarious that in On the Town and Anchors Aweigh they cast Francis Sinatra as a woman-oblivious cinnamon roll.  This dude fucked more broads than prolly the entire cast and crew combined, god bless him.

ANYWAY, the gang goes bar hopping, and Hilde and Claire decide to bribe the waiters in each club to treat Ivy as a celebrity in order to keep up the charade for Gabey (which is pretty sweet, honestly).  Come 11:30pm, however, Ivy bolts like Cinderella to her night gig as a cabaret dancer, lest her dance instructor write her parents in Bumfuck, Indiana and inform them she's been slumming.  Gabey takes it as well as expected for a sailor who has only known a girl for a handful of hours and throws himself a pity party to end all pity parties.  Hilde feels so bad she offers up her eccentric roommate Lucy, which everyone seems to hate for some reason?  When he ditches her to drink his woes away at the bar, everyone attempts to cheer him up, including Lucy, because she's an angel who is a streetcar named impulsive.

Gabey, after realizing how bad of a sport he's been, walks Lucy home and apologizes for being a judgmental dick.  He then hallucinates an entire ballet that sums up the entire movie so far, as Gene Kelly is wont to do.  

When Gabey’s friends finally find him blissed out, they return him to the bar to truly drown him.  BUT WAIT, Ivy's dance teacher is randomly there and reveals Ivy's less-than-socialite status.  Mme points Gabey in the direction of Ivy’s peep show and a car chase between Hilde and the cops ensues as they rush to Ivy's place of employment.  Although the group evades the police temporarily, everyone is eventually arrested for being a general nuisance and the boys are shipped back to the boat.

Claire and Hilde save the moment with a Droz-style monologue, and the cops are so moved by the girls’ display of emotion that they decide not to pursue charges against our group of delinquents.  Additionally, they transport the girls up to the ship in order to say goodbye to their men before they leave.  As Gabey, Chip and Ozzie return to serving their country, the next group of horny soldiers depart to cause havoc on the city that never sleeps.  The end.

And if you're curious out of Frankie and Gene who ultimately pulled my attention, it was the inventor of pantyhose herself, Ann Miller, who I couldn’t take my eyes off of.  NOBODY can compete with her.

Thanks for reading!  If you’ve enjoyed this post, please consider helping me fund this project by donating to my ko-fi :)

#unwarranted opinion #100 best musical movies of all time rotten tomatoes

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Seven minutes of truth and dare

Summary>  You and Pietro have been friends since elementary school. On his 18th birthday, you try to socialize with his twin sister, Wanda Maximoff, who never seemed to like you very much.

Warnings> (implied) Enemies to Lovers/ Fluff and Smut/ Vaginal Fingering/ Boys Kissing/ Girls Kissing/ Underage Drinking/ 18+/ implicit sex/ swearing

Words>  3734k (Oneshot)

Read on AO3 

It took little time to get to Maximoff's house, considering that you had to walk to the residence, since your ride - Natasha Romanoff, best friend, currently on the run together with her boyfriend Bruce Banner - just stood up to you. You were lucky to live only a few blocks away.

The noise of the party could already be heard from around the corner, and you wondered how long it would take for one of the neighbors to call the police. At least it was the weekend, and you remembered that Pietro had commented that the Parkers would be traveling on their honeymoon, being the only neighbors of the house. Pietro was always lucky for things like this.

When you finally arrived at the house, the sound of some electronic music was much louder. You greeted a few people with a nod, the vast majority classmates, who were actually more Pietro's friends than yours, and then you went inside. 

The Maximoff residence was very nice, but at this moment it was full of teenagers drinking and dancing, many glasses and bottles lying on the floor. 

 Looking for Pietro, you found him upside down, drinking directly from a beer tank that was set up in the outside yard past the kitchen. You frowned slightly, hoping your friend didn't have an alcoholic coma, as you walked up to the group of teenagers who cheered and encouraged the challenge.

When he finished, the two boys holding him by the ankles helped him to balance again, laughing and patting Pietro on the back. Your friend staggered a bit, but then he saw you, flashing a smile before hugging you.

- You stink, birthday boy. - You teased, and Pietro just rolled his eyes humorously.

- You took your time. - He remarks as you release from your embrace. You shrug.

- You know this isn't my thing. - You remark, referring to the party. Pietro smiles.

- Yes, yes. But I'm glad you're here. - He replies and then takes your hands, lifting them a little and looking down your entire body. - And look at you, you even dressed up to come! Are you trying to have sex with someone?

You laughed, letting go of Pietro's hands to push him gently, which made Pietro laugh too. Soon you were surrounded by other friends, but not being very good with crowds, you said you were going to get something to drink before you left.

In the kitchen, you tried to find something that didn't have alcohol in it. You ended up grabbing one of the bottles of soda from the refrigerator, hoping that none of the Maximoffs would mind.

Someone changed the music and turned up the sound, so you heard the excited shouts of several people, who began to move into the room and dance around each other. You laughed at the image, walking upstairs.

A few people were scattered on this floor, mostly trying to smoke pot in hiding, or to have some privacy from the noise. A few others were just making out in the corners. You walked to Pietro's room, checking his present in your pocket.

He would be too busy being the popular extrovert he was tonight, so you thought it best to leave the small gift you bought for him on his bedside table, he could appreciate the gift when the party was over. 

You closed the door on your way out, and frowned as you looked down the hall, a couple of strangers kissed passionately while one of the boys groped the walls for somewhere to go, you watched as he found one of the unlocked doors and went inside. You sighed, hesitating to make a move. You knew very well that this was Wanda's room. You figured that no one would want to know that strangers were screwing in their bed.

Hurrying inside, you opened the door.

- Sorry, boys, this one's off limits. - You warned them as you entered, noting that they were already almost naked. Grabbing the fallen clothes from around the room, they looked at you angrily, but then left the room.

You shifted the weight of your feet, realizing where you were at last. Looking around, you bit your lower lip as you observed how everything was just so Wanda. 

The color of the walls, the sheets, even the way she organized the books and records. You ran your finger between the shelves on the wall, smiling at the collection of music she had in vinyl record format. And then you looked at the collection of dvds, compilations of old American sitcoms.

You walked over to the study table, a picture of Wanda and Pietro as children caught your eye. It was Halloween, and they were dressed up adorably, Wanda as a witch, with horns and a red cape, and Pietro as a superhero. You put the photo back, running your fingers through Wanda's notes displayed in the notebooks she left open on the table. On the few occasions you saw her at school during the past year, she was studying. Pietro had commented that she was going to apply to the best colleges in the country. 

- What are you doing here? - A female voice sounded behind you, and you stumbled with fright, turning around quickly.

- God, Wanda, you scared the hell out of me. - You grumbled, but she continued with a look of mixed annoyance and curiosity. You looked away before speaking. - Sorry for snooping. I just came here to keep some boys from having sex in your bed.

Wanda blinked with confusion, but her expression softened. You noticed how beautiful she looked, and scolded yourself for thinking that the next second.

- Oh right. Thanks, I guess.

You nodded slightly, not being used to being alone with her. 

- I didn't know you liked sitcons. - The words escape your anxious brain, and Wanda blinks in confusion. You thought she would throw you out of the room right away, but she just smiles, shrugging.

- You never asked. - She says, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

- Yeah, I didn't know you wanted me to ask. - You retort, your voice coming out almost in a whisper. Wanda looks away, twiddling her fingers.

You were silent for a moment, and Wanda looked like she was about to say something, but then the door opened again, and you raised your eyebrows as you watched two girls snuggled up to each other and stumbled into the room, unaware of your presence. Wanda made an impatient expression.

- Get out, now! - she warns, and the girls part in shock. You raise your eyebrows as you realize that you knew them.

- Damn, we didn't know it was taken. - Carol grumbled, and when she looked at you her expression changed from embarrassment to happiness. - Y/N! I didn't know you were coming.

You nodded at her clumsily, and she just smiled, apologizing again as she dragged Maria out of the room, closing the door. You didn't even want to think about what you two were going to do.

- Maybe you should lock the door. - You said, and Wanda looked at you with a raised eyebrow, a tone of surprise and malice in her gaze. You blushed as you realized what your speech implied. - I-I mean when we get out of here.

Wanda laughed, and you tried to cope with the butterflies in your stomach that seeing her laugh gave you.

- I think I will stick around here anyway. - She comments after a moment, sitting up in bed. - Parties aren't really my thing.

- Yeah, I know how it is. - You add, a little awkwardly. - I only agreed to come because Pietro really wanted me to.

- You stopped coming here at home. - Wanda says with an expression you don't understand, it was as if she wanted to read you. - Are you two all right?

You look at her with mild surprise, not really expecting her to have noticed you anyway. 

- Me and Pietro? Yes, we're fine! - you affirm, putting your hands in your pockets. - I guess the exams have been keeping me busy. And well, Pietro has lots of friends now, it's not like I'm missed that much.

You looked at the floor, not noticing Wanda's frown. You didn't want to think too much about Pietro replacing you, not today.

- I don't think that's true. - Wanda says after a moment. - Pietro likes you very much.

Wanda's tone is almost hurt. At first you thought that maybe she was thinking that Pietro enjoyed your company more than hers, which was absolutely ridiculous, but then you understood the tone of the insinuation, and laughed lightly, attracting the other girl's attention.

- You know we're just friends, right? - You start to explain, the idea of dating Pietro is so absurd that your voice comes out in a tone of debauchery and humor. - He has never looked at me like that! And I always thought he was like a little brother.

You laugh at the possibility, but Wanda looks at you intently.

- Would I be like your little sister too? - She replies in a low tone, and you feel your smile drop and look away, completely embarrassed.

- No. - You deny it, a little breathlessly. - I don't see you as a sister.

- And how do you see me?

Feeling your heart race, you force yourself to look up, looking at Wanda. She has a glint in her eyes that makes you want to kiss her.

Before you can answer, the door opens again, and Pietro stumbles inside.

- Great, I found you two! - He looked drunk. - We're going to play seven minutes in heaven, come on, come on!

Giving you two absolutely no chance to respond, he pushed you through the house, leading you to the basement, where your group of friends were waiting for you.

- Hey guys. - You greeted awkwardly seeing everyone standing there. 

- No fucking way you two are at a party together! - joked Tony Stark, smiling at you. Despite the teasing, the others were genuinely happy with your company. - And they're still going to play with us? This is legendary.

- Why don't you just fuck off, Stark? - retorted Wanda as she entered. You knew they didn't get along very well, but Tony just shrugged, laughing at the other girl's aggressiveness. 

- Come on, guys, do the circle! - asked Steve, who was already sitting in one of the armchairs. He put a bottle in the middle of the group. - Are you sure you want seven minutes?

- We start with truth and dare, Rogers. - said Tony as he sat down next to Thor, one of Pietro's soccer teammates.

- All right, all right, let's just play this game once and for all, - said Pietro impatiently. When everyone was sitting in a circle, Steve touched the bottle, smiling at the group.

Turning the bottle, everyone looked forward in anticipation. The tip stopped at Sam, one of his closest friends, who seemed confident to respond to anything.

- Truth or dare, Wilson? - Steve asked.

- I'll go for truth.

- Boring. - Grumbled Tony, but Steve just laughed, and assumed a thoughtful expression.

- Who was the last person you kissed?

Sam bowed his head, a smile on his lips. You frowned, he was not the type to be shy. Tony noticed as well and assumed a curious posture, looking at Sam intently.

- The last person I kissed... - Sam began, pausing, as if wondering if he was really going to say it - Was Bucky.

The whole group exclaimed in surprise, and Tony burst out laughing. You looked at Bucky, who just seemed too embarrassed to respond to the jokes.

- Okay, let's pretend this isn't the biggest sex scandal in school, and move on. - Pietro said in an amused tone. Sam laughed at his comments, and turned the bottle, which stopped at Thor.

- Dare. - Said the blond man without even waiting for Sam to ask. Sam laughed and thought for a few seconds before saying:

- Okay, everyone will need to put their cell phones on speaker for this one. - Sam said and nodded, waiting for everyone to obey. The group laughed, but followed his lead. - Well, my challenge is very simple. Send a message to the person you want to make out with from here. Everyone will know who.

- You are terrible, Wilson. - Thor commented, ignoring the sighs of excitement that the group shared.

It took a moment for Thor to pick up his cell phone, and type something. He took a sip of his beer before pressing enter, and the next second, Valkyrie's cell phone rang. 

- This is not at all surprising, actually. - Steve joked, making everyone laugh.

Valkyrie gave Thor a surprised and mischievous look, but said nothing. Thor looked slightly flushed.

- If you guys are lucky, you can win seven minutes. - Sam teased.

Thor laughed but said nothing. He stepped forward to spin the bottle. Tony let out a pleased exclamation when he saw the bottle stop on him.

- Fuck, finally! - He said, and raised his hand to interrupt Thor, who was probably about to ask the choice. - No need, darling. Of course I want a dare, this game is no fun without it.

- Fine, Stark. - Thor laughed. - Since you love to show off, I dare you to give Rogers a lap dance.

The group burst into laughter, but Steve seemed considerably anxious. Tony laughed, a little awkwardly, and then stood up. 

Thor was quick to get some music playing, and everyone was quiet in anticipation. When Tony started to perform, you blinked awkwardly. You had no desire to see Anthony Stark do a lap dance on someone's lap. You pulled your cell phone out of your pocket checking for messages, and smiled when you saw that there was a message from Nat, just a picture of her and Bruce, smoking together in what you thought looked like the Skateboard Court near the school.

The group laughed again, and you lifted your head to see that Tony was riding on Steve's lap, with his shirt off. Steve was very red. 

- Okay guys, I think that's good enough! - Thor laughed, and Tony stood up. The group laughed at the visible erections on both of them, before continuing the game. 

- Can you keep up, Stark? - Thor sneered, pointing at Tony's pants. He gave a lopsided smile, and pointed a middle finger at Thor before picking up the bottle.

You felt your stomach flip with nervousness when the bottle stopped on you. 

- Well, well, this should be interesting. - said Tony looking at you mischievously. - Tell me, kitten, truth or dare?

You considered your options for a few seconds. If you asked for truth, Tony would not only tease you, but also find a way to make you confess something embarrassing. At least with dare, it would be quick and without much impact on your post-party life.

- Dare. - You say simply, and Tony looks surprised.

- It's been a night of surprises. - he scoffed. - And I think it's time for us to start the seven minutes in heaven.

- Damn it, Tony. - You mumble clumsily. Tony laughs and then flashes you a smile of fake kindness.

- I'll be nice to you. The bottle will choose your partner.  - He says, and you cover your face with both hands for a moment before grabbing the bottle.

- I hate you, - you mutter to Tony before swirling the bottle around. With luck it would stop at one of your friends, and you would spend seven minutes talking.

- No fucking way! - shouted Tony excitedly as the bottle stopped at Wanda. You felt your stomach drop. - I always knew you'd end up with a Maximoff, I never thought it would be with the most gothic of them.

The group laughed, but you were feeling extremely anxious. You felt your legs tremble slightly when Tony pulled you off the couch, seeing your lack of reaction. You tried to smile, but it must have come out as a grimace, since Tony laughed. 

- Remember girls, no cheating. - he warned, opening the closet door. You went in first, and then Tony closed the door when Wanda came in.

The closet was completely dark, and you could only distinguish Wanda's silhouette by squinting your eyes. You leaned your body against the wall, your breaths were the only sounds in the room, since the noise of the party was muffled.

- That's awkward. - You said trying to ease your nerves. 

- Why is it awkward? - Wanda replied. The closet was small, and looking at the floor, you noticed that your shoes were only inches from touching.

- I don't know, I guess I never thought I'd be in a closet with you. - you confess humorously. But with Wanda's lack of response, you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say next.

- Who did you think you would be stuck with? - She says after a moment, sounding as if she is trying to prolong the subject.

- I don't know. - You say, looking at your shoes again. You think you're imagining that the distance between you has decreased. - I don't really think about being stuck in closets.

Wanda laughs at your statement, and you feel your heart race at the sound. You count twelve seconds in silence before she speaks again.

- I never understood why we didn't become friends. - Wanda confesses, and you look up at her silhouette. 

Because I've been a gay disaster in your presence since I met you. You think, but think it best to just shrug. Then you remember that she can't see the gesture, and try to think of something to say.

- Different political views. - You joke, and Wanda giggles. 

- I like your humor. - She says next, and you feel your cheeks heat up, and look down, only to see Wanda's shoes signaling that she has taken a step toward you. You press your back against the wall, watching her move closer in the dark. - And honestly, I've always liked you a lot.

- W-what? - You ask breathlessly, feeling Wanda's presence right in front of you, your noses touching.

- I always noticed you, you know. - She says, drawing her face closer to your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair. You were thankful that there was a wall behind you, serving as a support. - I would see you around the house. Playing in my yard. And the jokes at the dinner table. Always so quiet and shy at school, so behaved and obedient. - Wanda whispered, and then she brought her mouth close to his ear. - Tell me, did you notice me too?

- Yes. - You confess breathlessly. And ignoring the uneven beating of your own heart, you continue. - I have always noticed you. Ever since middle school, when you started wearing leather boots, and painting your fingernails. Or when I was at your swimming pool and you sat quietly with a book. I noticed you.

Wanda lets out a sigh, bringing your foreheads together.

- Tell me to stop if you don't want this. - She whispered against your lips. You would have laughed if you weren't so anxious. 

You didn't answer, and wanting her to know how much you wanted her, you moved forward, pressing your lips together in a tender kiss.

Wanda took a step back in surprise, separating your mouths. You were about to apologize, thinking that maybe you had got it all wrong, but the next second she moved against you, her hands on your neck as your mouths joined in a firm, passionate kiss.

Bringing your hands to her waist, you pressed her against your body, and you gasped against each other's mouths. Wanda asked for passage with her tongue running over your lower lip, and you opened your mouth, gasping as you felt your tongues come together.

Kissing like this for a moment was enough to warm your whole body, a familiar discomfort forming below your belly. Having Wanda moaning against your mouth was not helping.

You slowed the kiss, stroking her tongue with yours slowly. Wanda pressed herself against you, one knee coming up between your legs. With the new friction, you felt your body tremble in anticipation, delighting in pleasure.

You were startled when you heard a noise, someone must have knocked something over outside the closet. And then you remembered that you were in a closet, with your best friend's sister, who was in the next room with six other people, with no idea that you were about to fuck Wanda.

You began to slow the kiss until you separated the two of you. Your chests were rising out of rhythm as you were breathing heavily

- We only have seven minutes. - You whispered out of breath, feeling Wanda nod her head slightly as you stood there with your foreheads pressed together.

- We can go to my room. - She spoke in the same tone. You nodded in agreement, beginning to miss the taste of Wanda in your mouth.

- Should we wait until the party is over?

Wanda let out a breathless giggle.

- Tell me. - She whispered, and removed her hands from your neck. With one hand she lifted her skirt, while with the other she took your hand from her waist and guided it down between her legs. You trembled as you touched her, pushing the fabric of her panties aside to feel her wet pussy. - Do you think I can wait?

- Fuck, Wanda. - You spoke breathlessly, and felt her moan as your finger moved against her clitoris. She squeezed your shoulder, closing her eyes. - You're so wet. So fucking wet for me.

You began to move your finger, penetrating her shallowly. Wanda buried her head in your neck, moaning against your skin.

It takes all your mental and physical control, but you withdraw your finger from inside her, while with the hand that was still on her waist you move up and down her back, stroking to calm her down.

- I want to feel you in my mouth. - You whisper to her. - I want you to come for me with your legs spread wide open on your bed. 

Wanda nods against your neck, trembling slightly. And then the door opens. You barely catch Tony's joke, feeling disconnected from everything that isn't Wanda. 

And before you can say anything, Wanda grabs your hand, pulling you out. 

- Where do you think you're going? - You hear someone shout, but neither of you even bother to answer. 

You can't help but smile when you reach the second floor, and Wanda pushes you into the room, locking the door as she brings your mouths together.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda imagines #high school au #marvel imagines #oneshot #wanda x reader #wandaxreader

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 13

Summary: Terrified of losing Y/N, the Darkling lets his defenses fall.

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine // Part ten // Part eleven // Part twelve  

=================================

“Stay with me”, the Darkling trembled as he rushed back to the camp. He held her body close to his chest, her head slumped right where his heart beats thunderstorms in her name.

She’s slipping away, he can feel it. The injuries she suffered and the power she used weakened her irreversibly.

He should be angry with her, enraged, but he had no strength to spare for violent emotions. His heart couldn’t bare much more than the pain he found himself drowning in. It wasn’t the pain of his own wounds, rather the pain of her parted lips and ragged breaths that came like final gushes of air her lungs released.

“HEALER!” He shouted, hoping, praying to the Saints he never believed in before.

“HEALER!” There was something in his screams for help, an unimaginable pain behind it.

Y/N’s fingers twitched, her chest rising in a strange manner; what should expand with an inhale suddenly draws in, a paradox he had seen in dying soldiers.

“HEALER!” It was the kind of scream that went straight for the heart.

Everyone tensed, following the Darkling – a man who never showed genuine emotion other than rage. His call for healers felt like a cry from the heart and soul that stretched across the foundations of who he is. The anguish tore through him as he saw a healer run toward him.

Letting out a shuddered breath in relief, he collapsed to his knees. “Not me!” He growled as the healer tried placing her hands on him, “Help her! Save my wife!”

Nodding, the healer looked down at Y/N with wide eyes. Another healer arrived too, then another, and another.

The Darkling refused to let her out of his embrace as two of the healers tried to take her away. “No!”

“We have to take her”, the first healer insisted. “She doesn’t have long and we have to act fast and that’s not going to happen while you’re clinging to her!” Eyes wide, she covers her mouth as it dawns on her who she’s speaking to. “Respectfully, General.”

Staring at her with raw suffering, Aleksander licked his trembling lips. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her temple instead of her forehead – forehead kisses in this moment would feel as if he’s kissing her corpse before her final rest. 

He couldn’t stomach that thought.

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you”, he whispers. 

This isn’t how it’s meant to be, how it’s supposed to be. He could never believe anyone ever loved anyone the way he loves her.

Nothing ever made him so frightened as the thought of losing her.

“Take her”, Mal tells them. Looking down at Kirigan who seemed incapable of standing back up on his own, he realized he had to take over.. “And send someone for your General. Send everyone for the wounded in the field.”

Aleksander looked up, jaw clenched and eyes swimming in tears he has yet to shed.

“I’m not leaving”, Mal quipped. “She’s my General.”

Y/N wasn’t able to scream, despite the pain darkening her mind. She tried to focus on her breathing, on staying alive. The only awareness she had was of Aleksander’s arms around her – she felt his scent. When he touched her face, when he tried to gain her attention, she couldn’t open her eyes. Her ears kept ringing, mixing with a rumbling inside his chest. She managed to blink her eyes open once, just one more time to see him, but all she managed to get was a glimpse of his chin and beard.

She wondered how he’d look without it, if it would make him seem boyish, softer. Maybe it would have erased the burden on his shoulders - they may be wide, but they shouldn’t have to carry all that weight alone.

Suddenly, his scent was gone. She tried to reach for him, but her arms could not move, hanging freely instead. Cold seeped in, clinging to her insides, wrapping itself around her heart.

Slowly, her agony had faded. The pain gradually lifted, dissipating like fog. For a moment, she wondered if this is what death feels like – no more pain? No more suffering? Being alone and cold?

Despite everything, if she had a choice, she’d embrace the pain. If pain means she would return to him, to his warm arms, she’d gladly suffer.

Dizzy, confused, she felt herself being pulled up into reality. The disjointed haze receded enough for her to make sense of the world around her. Her eyelids feel heavy as she opens her eyes, the edges of her vision flickering. Blinking fast, her eyebrows knitted as her vision blurred.

‘Aleksander’, she wanted to call, but couldn’t say a word. 

How odd it is that he’s the last one she thought about when she thought she’d die and he’s still the first one to come to mind when she wakes? 

She no longer felt cold. He always had the ability to keep the cold away.

Sniffling, she jerked her hands away as she became aware of another’s touch. Sitting up on a table she was laid upon, she pulled herself aside before looking to the one who touched her earlier.

“It’s just me”, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “I needed to see you.” His voice is soft, sweet like honey.

Scoffing, she narrows her eyes at him and the cup of water he held out for her to take. Her mouth is dry, her throat like sandpaper. She may be angry with him, but the water he held out felt more important than their fight.

“Are you in any pain?” He asks, watching her drink all of the water in one go. “I could have them come and take it away.”

Letting out a loud sigh, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Raising an eyebrow, she licked her dry lips.

“Can they take you away?”

Snorting, he suppresses a smile. As long as she’s capable of annoying him, she’s going to be fine.

“What were you thinking?” Threading his fingers through his hair, Aleksander frowned. “You could have died.”

“Would have saved you a lot of trouble in the future”, she quips. Standing, she stumbles.

Feeling his hands on her waist, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Even now, when she’d like nothing more than to walk away, her body reacts to him. Looking up at him, she inhales sharply as she sees the tears in his eyes.

“I’m scared”, he admitted and she blinked.

“Of what?” She frowned, “Me?” Does her power frighten him? Because it frightens her.

He shook his head, “Of me”, he looked at her. His hands trembled as they touched her skin, “I’m scared of hurting you.”

“I’m scared of you hurting me, too.”

Dropping his hand, he takes a step back. “I don’t think I’m capable of ever hurting you.”

“Tell that to my neck”, she remarks. Her hand brushes over where his hand had tightened its grip just the night before, fixing his gaze on him. He seemed to regret it.

‘Good’, she thought. ‘I hope it haunts him, because it will haunt me.’

“I apologize”, Aleksander swallows thickly. He can’t remember the last time he apologized to someone. A part of him questioned if he ever apologized for anything he’s done in his unusually long life. “I had no right to act the way I did.”

“You once told me I could choose the way to punish you if you ever hurt me”, she takes his hand, intertwining their fingers.

Aleksander nods, “I’m a man of my word.”

“What’s your name”, she asks. “Real name.”

His eyes locked on hers like magnets of different polarities. Isn’t that exactly what they are? She’s his polar opposite in every way, fated to attract.

“Aleksander Morozova.” He uttered a name long forgotten; a name he wanted to forget. 

Aleksander was a weak boy who failed everyone that cared for him. He was soft, young, naïve and a damned fool for ever believing Grisha would ever be free. Even now as he elevated their status, Grisha had to serve a human – the Tsar.

Her eyes held barely contained anger. As her hands clasped, a few stray flickers of light appeared on her fingertips. Unclasping her hands immediately, she raised her chin up. “I want to know everything. Tell me your story.”

“And when will I hear yours?” Darkling demanded, swiping his thumb under his lower lip.

“You seem to mistake this for negotiations”, she maintained eye contact defiantly. “Last night you told me to either go back to the Palace or to cross the fold and return to my father. It’s a choice that would easily mean I can choose to stay with you or leave and never look back.”

Placing a hand on his chest, Y/N smirked. “You can either tell me the whole truth or watch me leave.” She spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t push me unless you’re willing to lose.” 

Cupping his left cheek, she allowed a luminescent glow cast a light on his handsome features. She was angry, so angry and tired and her own power often terrified her. For once, she wanted to use it for her own benefit rather than hide it.

“What good will it do?” Aleksander’s bottom lip quivers as her light illuminates tears collecting in his dark eyes. “You’ll hate me as they all do. Even my mother saw me as a monster.”

“I’ve seen what you really are. And I never turned away…what makes you think I will now?”

She felt his jaw clench under the palm of her hand as he swallowed thickly, “You would if you could see my heart, all of it.”

Exhaling through her nose, she shook her head. Her eyes soften, her lips parting. How could she ever be indifferent to his suffering? She wished she could be colder, to leave him in tears and not look back. Hearing his words, his belief that he’s unlovable tugged at her heartstrings. 

"Have you no faith in me?"

In a fight, they’re lethal, but around each other their armor is gone.

“I’ve waited for you for centuries. I dreamed about you for hundreds of years before I ever saw your face. I longed for you, missed you, died and lived for you.” Taking her face in his hands, Aleksander bends. His forehead meets hers as his nose brushes against the tip of hers.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you, my dreams have been clearer, focused on you. And in my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been’”, his eyes overflow with tears as he continues with a fractured smile. “I say, ‘I’ve been lost, but I’m here now’.” 

Swallowing thickly, he felt as if his heart was breaking. “You’re the only person who has ever been able to find the real me. You saw me underneath all the darkness.” Reaching for her hand, his fingers tremble. “I was waiting for you without knowing it. I’ll make up for all the mistakes, for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.”

“So why is it so hard for you to be honest with me?” She whispers, her hands trembling as they hold onto his shoulders.

His frown deepens, “Why weren’t you honest with me?”

“You once joked and said I’m no Inferni”, she shrugged. “You were right about that. My mother was. Father never knew about either of us. Your turn.”

“I was honest”, he sighs. Stepping back, he frowns. “I told you my name, I answered your questions about the black heretic.”

Reaching for him, she felt her heartache intensify once his tears began to flow freely across his cheeks.

“Don’t”, he recoiled from her touch. She wrapped her arms around her own waist, hurt by the rejection. 

“It’s not easy for me to talk about my past. It’s as if I’m cutting myself open, letting the ugliness spill out. It’s not painless.” Swallowing thickly, Darkling’s eyes widen as he tries to hold back more tears from escaping him. “It would have been simpler to close myself off and find an unremarkable lover who’d never dare defy me, but I keep taking the risk because I want to be with you and I hope that one day you will feel the same way about me.”

“I want”, she stopped, tucking her hair behind her ears. 

His voice was quieter, “What do you want? I’ll give you everything.”

“I don’t know”, she replied honestly. “I’m hurt, Aleks. You hurt me after you promised to protect me.”

Running a hand across his face, wiping his tears away. He averts his gaze. Watching her break because of him deepens the cracks in his poorly stapled, bleeding heart.

“What do you want”, she looked to him with a weight in her chest. How can loving someone hurt so badly even when the love is reciprocated?

“Never mind what I want”, he turned away. Facing her now would have chipped away at his fragile sanity, so he did what a coward would – he hid.

“You asked what I want”, she placed her hands on her hips. “I want to know what you want.”

Shaking his head, he let out a breathless chuckle. “You”, he smiled. “I’ll always want you.”

Closing the distance between them, she closed her arms around his neck. Before she could reach for him, he gripped her by her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Wrapping her legs around his waist on instinct, she got lost in the rush of blood to her head when he pinned her against the table behind her. He paused, searching her eyes. 

Whatever he was looking for, she hoped he found it.

“I don’t own you”, his eyes flicker to her lips as she sinks her front teeth into the soft flesh of her bottom lip. “I never did. Human or Grisha, you always owned me. I was just too blind to see it.”

Brushing his lips against hers, Aleksander smiled in resignation. His eyes are so different in moments like these, softer than she ever imagined eyes could be.

“Your silver tongue won’t get you far”, she struggled to keep her eyes open with his lips a whisper away. “But you’re free to try.”

She felt his burning gaze, finding it hard to concentrate on much besides breathing. He observed her, capturing her soft, naturally charming and appealing nature. She’s genuine and sweet, the reason why everyone’s head turns when she walks into the room.

How did he not realize it before?

She’s the sun.

She always was. 

He always did squint angrily at her like he does with the fireball in the sky.

Y/N’s hands ran up and down his chest as her lips claimed his - passionately, roughly, determinedly. Without a word, she started to unbutton his kefta, her cold fingertips brushing his warm skin - until she lost patience and ripped the bottom part wide open, pressing her palm against his chest as he broke the kiss.

“Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrows in concern.

“I’ll be mad at you tomorrow. Kiss me”, she ordered, drawing a smile on his lips as she pulled him closer, her lips reattaching to his, her teeth sinking into his lower one.

Pushing him onto the floor, she didn’t waste time. Her bottoms were down so quickly he hardly had time to take a proper breath before she unfastened his pants too.

Heaving, Aleksander could hardly get enough of the view on top of him - her beautiful mouth opening in pleasure every time she sunk down on him, her eyes rolling back into her head, her hands placed over his chest to keep herself steady. She speeds up, prompting his loud, uninhibited moans that drew an honest smile upon her lips. He trusted up and into her as his high hit fully, taking her by surprise. She gasped, his thrust giving her an unexpected release as she clenched around him.

Gasping for breath, she laid on top of him. Y/N was very aware of his arm around her as it pulled her close, his hand on her hip, giving it a light squeeze. He leaned into her, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her temple, making her tingle with anticipation of something more - something she shouldn’t think about after their argument.

How can she trust his change of heart has nothing to do with the fact she’s the Sun Summoner? How can she ever trust him at all?

Clearing her throat, she pulled herself off Aleksander. “Put something on, someone might come in”, she told him as she secured her pants back on. She could hardly look at him, afraid he’d weaken her resolve. She couldn’t forgive him so easily, even if her heart ached for him.

“Let me in”, a voice from outside the tent made Y/N look to the entrance with a frown.

She crossed the distance swiftly, her hands ready in case she had to use her sword. She goes to place her hand on the hilt only to find her sword is not on her.

It’s a good thing that’s not her only weapon.

“Hey!” She shouts at the Grisha as they pulled someone away. “Stop!”

“General?!” Mal laughs as he manages to look back at her, fighting against the Grisha.

“Mal?” She chuckles, glad to see he’s still alive. 

“Leave him alone!” She orders, feeling a presence behind her. She didn’t need to look to know it’s Aleksander. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t in the mood for anymore talking.

“You’re alive?!” Mal goes in for the hug, but his eyes catch a glimpse of Kirigan’s glare and he slowly backs away. “We need to regroup.”

“How many have we lost?” She frowns.

“You’re Grisha now”, Aleksander speaks up. “You don’t have to fight for the humans.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she scoffs at him. How could he even think she’d give up on her people now? 

“That’s not something I’d like. I enjoy my humanity.”

She was the flame who lit his life on fire and while he was burning, he wanted to thank her for it and ask her to stay a while longer. Darkling nearly chuckled at the thought of calling her fire, but she is and he craves the burn.

The Darkling wanted Y/N to be the one addicted to him, in equal measure as he was addicted to her. He wanted to give her a reason to stay with him, if not for love, then for lust. He’d find a way to her heart in the meantime and knowing they’ll have a forever comforts him, but he needed to have her in every other way until then.

He knew he could make her truly happy if she’d let him and he wasn’t about to let her go.

Not without a fight.

Watching her walk away with the soldier, he clicked his tongue. Mal, whoever he is, poses a threat he needs to handle.

Swiftly.

=============================

A/N - I struggled so much writing this chapter, hope you guys like it. I’m probably gonna pass out now, I’m exhausted. xx

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren  @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl @yagorlemmalyn @gonehopelessgirl @fefethecoffeeaddict @naughtynecromancer @poison-of-the-ivie @strawb3rrydr3ss @supersouthy @theilliterateironman @evyiione @kimoranelson03 @wizardwheezes @woodsabby6 @liajiah @its-carlerrr​ 

PART 14

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadown and bone

[s-brant]

Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

​​Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #i'm gonna miss these dorks #🥺 #I love how he tries to break up with her and she’s like ‘no❤️’ #also totally do not put on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift during the childhood flashbacks unless u wanna cry #cause I did and my sensitive ass was crying #that song is about John B and JJ okay #it just is

[biisexualemma]

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker angst #peter parker x oc #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #spiderman #peter x y/n #peter x reader #peter parker x original character #peter parker x y/n #y/n #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming #marvel #marvel fic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #mcu #marvel x reader #mcu edit #mcu x reader #mcu marvel avengers #mcu fanfiction #mcu x y/n #mcu fic #avengers #avengers fanfiction #the avengers

[sparklingchan]

Ruby Eyes|| Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Changbin

Word count : 7.3k+ 

Warnings : Mention of an accident, cuss words, divorce, a single kiss.

Genre : Romance, Soulmate AU, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers.

Description: Seo Changbin has done everything in his capacity to remove and replace you, yet fate seems to have different plans for the both of you.

A/N : Hello everyone ahhh I know it’s been so long y’all. So many things have been going on including exams and internships and I just didn’t have the patience to write :(( This one shot was written as a part of a collab event by wonderful, dear Ro! 

I hope y’all like it!

"So, how's it being back, y/n?"

Your dad looks older now than he did the last time you saw him - probably two years ago, when you were leaving the country.

You missed him, really. You missed his warmth and his wisdom and how he was a sharp contrast to your mother, more calm and composed. Sometimes you wonder how your mother had even managed to get your custody after their divorce.

"Okay, I guess." You lie.

You didn't want your father to know how your feelings are all over the place, ranging from sadness to anger and longingness.

It's a weird thing to be experiencing such a cocktail of emotions when you'd convinced yourself these feelings had disappeared the day you left the old neighborhood, seven years ago. You had not felt any attachment towards the new neighborhood that you and your mother then went on to live for the next two years before you moved abroad for your studies. Yet you feel nostalgic now, as your father drives you through your old old neighborhood.

"How's mom?" He asks, taking a left to a road all too familiar to you, "Is she still going to therapy?"

You nod, "She's getting better, I think. The new country seems to have changed her. The therapy is helping too. She has many friends there now. "

At first when you were offered a job at one of the biggest publishing companies in the world, you were ecstatic. But everything soon died down when you found out you were posted at a branch in the country you'd left behind. It was your mother who'd convinced you to take it.

"I know you don't like being back, y/n." Your dad smiles sadly when he pulls over infront of your old house.The house that contains years of secrets, tears, lies and whispered confessions in front of the mirror stands in front of you, as grand and pretty as ever. It looks different but similar enough to make you tear up a tad bit.

"But I'm glad you're here. I really am." He says, "I renovated the house a little when you told me you were moving back. I hope it's okay."

You smile at the old man, wrapping your arms around him, "Thanks, dad. I missed you. I'm glad you're here, too."

He pecks your forehead, "I missed you, too, love."

Moving in doesn't take a lot of time since your dad had already set up everything. You just had to get some of your stuff and you were ready to kick start your stay.

That evening, your father leaves after making you promise to call him if anything happens at all and when the front door closes, you find yourself in the company of your old room.

You lie on your bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as you hum an old tune to yourself. And without meaning to, you find yourself thinking about him; The man you hadn't seen or talked to for a whole seven years. The man who'd tried his best to stay in touch with you yet gave up when you didn't reciprocate the same.

A horrific realization then dawns on you,

He'd obviously replaced you now.

The familiar clouds of grief loom over you, threatening to engulf you any moment now.

No. Not now, please.

Getting up from your bed immediately, you shake your head as you make your way to the mirror- the mirror that had encountered more honest tears and smiles and words than any human ever had. You stare at your reflection as tears escapes your eyes, the bright red iris of your right eye staring back at you when you rub your tears off.

You shiver.

"Shit, I forgot to wear the contacts."

Quickly grabbing your lenses from your bag, you put them on, concealing the scary blood red color of your right eye. You take two long strides across the room and pulling your favorite black hoodie over your head, you walk out of the door.

By the time you manage to leave the house, it's already 10:30 in the evening. A quiet calmness has fallen over the town, as the shops and restaurants near the market square slowly start closing up. Your feet are as if on autopilot, taking you to that one place you know would still be open; Yang's Café.

And rightly so, the smell of freshly brewed coffee reaches your nostrils when you walk through their main door, past the group of chatty teenagers waiting outside. This place hasn't changed much, you realize, the brown and golden hues of the place and the vintage coffee cups collection in the far corner of the Cafe are still the same. The only difference is that you're no longer here with your best friend right after school, you are here all alone on an evening too quiet for your liking.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

When you turn around to face the owner of the voice, you are stunned.

"Jeongin?"

Jeongin's family has owned this Cafe for three generations now, from his great-grandparents, his grandparents, his parents and soon enough it'll pass down to him. As a kid, you remember often playing with Jeongin at the park and teaming up with him during quiz competition. He was always sweet and always smiley.

But the handsome young man that stands in front of you doesn't resemble the Jeongin you once used to know, not even a little bit.

"What..what happened to you!" You exclaim, taking his face in your hands, "Where are the braces! And the specs and wow, would you look at the blue hair!"

Jeongin can only let out a few giggles as you continue squishing his face and complaining how big he's grown in only over seven years.

The customers give you weird stares but only the heavens above know how genuinely happy you are to see Jeongin, albeit the fact you almost couldn't recognize him there for a second.

"What have you done to my child?" You mutter when you've finally calmed down and Jeongin takes you to your seat.

"I have a mother, y/n, thank you very much," he laughs, taking a seat opposite to yours, loosening the Barista apron around his torso, "And I missed you too."

You attempt to pinch his cheeks but he is quick to dodge.

"So how have you been?" He asks through giggly breaths.

You sigh, "I'm good... I feel weird being back here, honestly but I think I'll get used to it soon. What about you?"

"I've been good. Graduated a few months back, now I'm working here full time." He ushers over a waiter, "What would you like, y/n?"

You don't even think for a second while responding, "An iced Americano, please."

The waiter notes your order and walks away before Jeongin pinches your arm teasingly.

"Ouch. What?"

"Old habits die hard, huh? You always used to drink an iced coffee whenever we hung out here. I am glad to see nothing much has changed," Jeongin laughs, "You and Changbin, too!"

That one name sends your entire mind into a frenzy. Changbin. Seo Changbin. The love of your life. The man who you wouldn't even go to school without, the man who had saved you from a terrible accident, also the man who probably no longer even remembers you.

And you realise, despite everything, your heart yearns for him, still- for you wouldn't be in so much pain at the mention of his name otherwise.

Jeongin seems to have noticed your discomfort because he immediately changes the topic, "Anyway, you have to try our new chocolate cake. It's heavenly, I'm telling you."

Your reason to leave the neighborhood wasn't a secret, really. It was public knowledge that your mother had blamed Changbin for the fatal accident you almost had.

You're grateful for what Jeongin does, and try your best to engage in conversations about the neighborhood and old gossip you'd missed out on. Yet all you want to do is drive out of the damn Cafe and find changbin.

"Y/n?"

Or maybe, Changbin will find you.

Behind Jeongin, you see the blurry image of a man that had once caused you great misery yet you had never felt as happy as when you were with him.

"Hi..hi, Changbin." You stammer as you see the said man walk towards your table.

The seven years have as if done some magic on him, because the Changbin that walks towards you in no way resembles your high school best friend.

With thick buff arms, new ear piercings and silver jewelry gracing his wrists and fingers, you have a hard time actually accepting the fact that Seo Changbin is really there, in front of you.

"Been long, huh?" He grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and somewhere in the depths of your conscience, you realize it might have been your fault. You'd done everything in your capacity to break apart from this friendship, ignoring his calls, changing your number, even going as far as blocking him on all social media.

So, did you really expect him to welcome you back with open arms when you had caused him so much pain?

Jeongin brings an extra chair for Changbin to sit on and soon, the three of you are talking, maybe not like the old, happy days but it's still better than nothing. Changbin looks at you everytime you throw your head back and laugh, your eyes squeezing shut as his heart clenches in his chest.

You are really back home.

"So what have you been doing? I told you guys about me." Jeongin says, stealing a bite off of Changbin's cheesecake.

"Oh..you know," Changbin giggles, the tip of his ears turning a light pink shade.

You raise your eye brows in confusion.

"Been busy with the wedding and all."

Your heart drops. "Wedding? W-whose wedding?" You try to laugh it off but it's very evident from the way you're gripping your glass of iced Americano that it has affected you. A lot more than you actually thought.

"I'm getting married, y/n," Changbin smiles, "I'm so glad you could be around for the wedding."

*

Your grief stricken self has not gotten up from the bed since last night and you're thankful to Jeongin for finally checking up on you or else you would have gone deeper into the spiral hole of despair.

"Are you really going to be like this, y/n?"

You hate being miserable on the very second day of your stay. You hate depending on Jeongin. But you can barely move without bursting out into tears,so it seems as though there's no better idea than have someone take care of you at the moment.

"I'm sorry, Jeongin. " You manage to speak when he places a bag full of snacks and drinks on the dining table, "And thanks."

Jeongin chuckles, "Don't thank me, just yet. Guess who wants to meet up with you?"

Your eyes widen for a split second as you sit up on the couch, "Who?!"

No, he wouldn't, would he?

"It's not the person you think, y/n. Calm down." He laughs, "It's Bang Chan. Your senior, you remember?"

Oh, yes, the infamous Bang Chan. Shy smiles, dimples, curly hair, angelic eyes. Yeah, you remember the school's heartthrob. Very clearly.

"I was talking to him this morning and he said he'd be very glad to catch up with you again." Jeongin settles beside you, "It's not a date, y/n. He's an old friend. It wouldn't hurt, would it? You can't possibly sit here all day long crying about him."

You open your mouth to argue, but only air slips out and you realise you don't have anything to defend your miserable state with. You knew this was coming; when you cut off all ties with Seo Changbin, you knew this was coming.

Jeongin is right; you need to go out and meet new people.

You roll your eyes before pinching Jeongin's cheeks, "Fine. Give him my number."

He responds by pulling your cheeks as well.

*

The first day of work is weirdly gut wrenching.

You hadn't expected yourself to be this nervous but here you are, muttering under your breath as you make way towards the office.

"You'll be okay, y/n," you breathe in, "You've worked hard for this." And breathe out.

A few more minutes of self pep talking and you see all your hard work and expectations go down the drain as you feel a few droplets of rain fall onto your head. You look up and the dark, heavy clouds greet you.

Bloody brilliant.

You see the office goers around you jog quickly to the nearest shelter but you're short on luck today as your gaze falls on your watch and you realize you don't have enough time to wait for the rain to pass.

So you grab your office bag, cover your head with that and make a run for it.

The sole of your high heel shoes dig into your feet and a throbbing pain shoots through your body, as you wince. Note to yourself - never wear heels to office again.

You also secretly pray to the gods that your contact lens don't get washed off. Turning up at your new office on the first day with a blood red iris doesn't feel too fun, really.

"Do you need a lift?"

You had been so busy running to your office that you don't notice when a black car drives toward you and the driver rolls down the window, offering you a smile.

Seo Changbin.

Your heart skips a few beats.

"Y/n, do you need a lift?"

You blink back to reality when he clicks his fingers in front of you, "I-I mean if that's okay with you."

Changbin smiles, pointing to the passenger's seat, "Come on in."

When you're comfortably seated in his car, using his spare towel to wipe off the water from your face and hair, his questions start-

"So.." He steps on the break when the traffic light turns red, "How have you been?"

You look at the digital clock displayed on the cars' LED, and sigh. You're late to work and you're stuck in traffic with the one man you'd rather not be stuck in traffic with. Brilliant.

"Good." Your eyes are focused on the cars outside the window, "You?"

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again, "Fine."

Fine? Just Fine? Shouldn't he be over the clouds, now that the wedding is finally around the corner?

"Okay.."

"Actually, I meant to ask you earlier, y/n." He turns to you, a gentle smile playing at his lips, "I am throwing a party this weekend. I'd love it if you could come by. And I could introduce you to her."

You sink back into your seat, biting your lip, wondering if you want to ever know who her is. Your peace of mind is more important than meeting your ex crush's fiance, right? And if you do end up going to the party, whom would you hang out with? It's not like you know any of his rich friends and cousins and there's no way you'd hang out with Changbin and the said fiance.

You are about to respectfully reject the invitation when a sudden, seemingly good idea pops into your head.

Bang Chan.

You nod, shrugging, "Okay. I'll be there."

You clasp your hands together as he continues driving and you look out the window, unable to suppress the bubbling excitement.

"Great, then." He replies, suspiciously.

*

The evening of the party finally arrives, much to your dismay, you find yourself seated next to Chan. He's just the same as the guy in your memory; a gentleman.

"You look pretty, y/n." He had greeted you as he held the car door open for you, "I'm glad we could meet up."

His words turn your cheeks into a darker shade of red but your heart doesn't beat quite as furiously as you'd expect it to.

Muttering a small thank you, you seat comfortably in the car while Chan drives towards Changbin's family's old Farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. You've been there before - during summer holidays, he would take you there with his family. That place was only filled with happy memories of sunshine, swimming pools, watermelon juice and bonfires.

You swallow the grief that comes along with these memories.

"Are we here already?" Chan pulls over in a familiar driveway not even ten minutes later, jogging up to your door and clicking it open, like the gentleman he is.

"Yeah, we're here." Chan smiles, "Very less traffic tonight."

You guys walk through the huge metallic gate, making your way through the main door of the house.

"Uh..." People are crowded mostly around the front door and in the front yard, so you and Chan have to push and squeeze your way into the Farmhouse. You hate the feeling of sweaty bodies pressing against you (or holding Chan's hand for stability) but desperate situations call for desperate measures.

"I hate it here." You mutter when you later find yourself by the pool side, swirling the drink that you don't even plan on drinking and looking at all the flushed faces having the time of their lives.

Thankfully, Chan happens to be on the same boat as you.

"I'm sorry I dragged you here, Chan. We could have just gone for a movie."

Chan giggles, "Hey, it's alright. I don't mind, I'm glad I could spend some time with you after so many years."

His eyes shine and dimples deepen.

You whisper, "Yeah, me too."

Chan is a handsome man, good at all kinds of sport, good at arts, very smart and intelligent yet there's a part of you that knows you'd never be able to reciprocate his flirtatious words. It's sad, really, but that's just how life is.

"Wow, those two seem to be having the time of their lives." Chan chuckles, pointing at someone behind you.

It's quite dark outside, the only source of light being a few decorative fairylights hung at random places haphazardly.

Hiding behind a huge, tall bush, you see a couple, kissing each other like it were the last day on the planet.

The guy's hands roam all over the woman's body and the woman is so loud that even you could hear her sighs and moans. When she pulls away to catch her breath for a second, Chan asks you, "You know her?"

"Nope. I don't know either of them."

You look away; what kind of creep looks at a happy couple like that? (Not a creep, just a lonely and touch starved person)

"Should we check out the dinner table?" Chan suggests and you agree with a nod, "I hope there's no crowd there."

As expected, there actually isn't a crowd there - there's only Changbin, sitting and nibbling on a pizza slice while scrolling through the phone.

The moment your eyes land on him, your feet as if stop on their own and your heart bangs furiously against your chest.

He's breathtakingly gorgeous.

By the time you debate in your head whether or not you want to sit there and fill your stomach, Chan has already made his way to Changbin.

"Hey, Bin!" He greets him with a smile.

Changbin looks at Chan with an unamused smile, the same one from your high school days, when these two were named the biggest rivals on campus. You wonder if somewhere deep in his heart, Changbin had still not let go of that rivalry.

"Hey, Changbin." You manage to whisper before sitting beside Chan.

He looks almost angry.

"You should have the pizza. It's good." He mutters, turning to pass you a slice of pizza on a plate, "Help yourself, Chan."

Yup, there it is. The Seo Changbin that would kill to be on top. You feel worse about dragging Chan here now when neither of you were having a good time.

"Thanks, mate. " Chan replies.

Your ears ring with the sound of approaching footsteps, and when a pretty girl comes walking in and takes Changbin in her arms, your heart stings. Like a fresh wound.

"Y/n.." Chan whispers to you as you watch the two collide in a loving embrace, Changbin smiling at her and running his fingers through her hair.

Your heart hurts at how happy and content he looks.

You could have had that, a part of you thinks, if you weren't such a coward, it would have been you instead of her.

"Y/n," Chan calls you again.

"What?" Your tone is harsher than you intended, "What happened?"

You think Chan is about to give you the whole it-is-time-to-move-on talk but he doesn't, instead he points at the girl and whispers,

"It's her. The girl we saw earlier."

The rest of the night is blurry to you, all conversations, all gazes, all thoughts just feel ....like an awkward dream.

"We have to tell Changbin."

You're sitting at Yang's Cafe at 1 am the same night, watching Jeongin's brother guide his staff to clean the place up.

"I agree." Chan says, biting the inside of his cheeks.

While you, on the other hand, are completely zoned out, staring at the glass of water placed in front of you and watching the droplets on its surface race each other.

"Y/n, what do you think?" Jeongin asks when you don't take part in their discussions.

You sigh, "I don't know. I really don't. As much as it troubles me that Changbin is being cheated on, I don't want to get involved in their personal relationship. "

"Let's not tell anyone for now, then. But someday in the future, before that goddamn wedding, we have to tell him. He deserves to know." Chan agrees.

You purse your lips and close your eyes.

Chan is right.

Changbin deserves to know the truth.

*

"So, how's it being back in town, y/n?"

"It feels good. Weird, but good." You smile at your old teacher, "How have you been, Miss Oh?"

Your teacher adds sugar to the cup of tea in her hands and then looks at you, smiling - the same old smile, except with more wrinkles now, "I've been good. I'm retiring next year so I'm glad I could see you before that, huh?"

You nod your head, "I'm glad too. The school hasn't changed much, unlike what I had expected."

Other than the addition of some new labs and libraries, and the change in color of the walls, everything was still the same. No place in this old school building feels foreign to you.

"Ugh, these administration people I tell you, y/n, they're cheap idiots. They won't spend a single penny on infrastructure unless it's absolutely necessary." She complains as you giggle in response,

"They've always been like that."

Miss Oh gulps some tea from her cup, "Anyway, y/n, I have a class now. I would have loved to stay and chat, really, but I'm afraid that might get me in to trouble."

"No issues, Miss Oh. Go ahead. I'll just roam around the school a little more though, if that's okay."

After Miss Oh leaves, you step out of her cabin and walk the familiar corridors, reminiscent of the memories you have here. Studying a few minutes before tests, bunking classes, running to class when you're late, hanging out with your friends- these corridors have seen you grow in love, in friendship, in life. There's absolutely nothing that could ever replace these memories.

Mindlessly, you wander around the third floor, walking toward the end of the corridor before stopping in front of an old door, way too familiar to not try and push open.

While a part of you tells you it might not be a good idea to go into that room again, there's also a part of you that thinks it's a bloody brilliant idea.

Pushing the door open, you walk into the old dusty room, sighing in relief when you see a particular set of letters still carved on the wall.

CB and YN were here.

You finally let your tears run free, as you crouch down to touch the letters.

Your heart aches at how much you miss Changbin being an important part of your life and how much you miss being his top priority. And your heart aches for Changbin, who is so in love with his fiancé and has no idea he's being cheated on.

You almost want to leave this town and go back to your mother, away from this terrible mess. Yet you don't find it in yourself to act on those thoughts.

Maybe, it is your fear of abandoning him once again that stops you. Or, maybe it is simply the unconditional love you harbor for him.

* Surprisingly, Yang's Cafe is near empty that afternoon.

"Did something happen, y/n? You look really worried." Changbin has his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a tense frown.

"Um..it's kind of complicated." You sigh. For a second, you see the genuine concern and innocence on his face, and you wonder if it is worth telling him the truth at all because it would kill you to see him lose his smile but then, his engagement band shines on his ring finger and your stomach turns unpleasantly.

He has to know. From you. In person.

"Changbin, that day at your party...I saw something. " You whisper, "Something I shouldn't have. I should have turned a blind eye really but I can't. My conscience won't allow it. I'm sorry, Bin."

"Y/n, it's okay, just tell me," he reaches over and wraps his fingers around yours, soft and gentle, "You're scaring me."

"Changbin, your fiance is cheating on you. I-I saw her kissing another man that night. Chan saw it too." You feel sick even having to say this to him, "I think you should confront her."

He sucks in a deep breathe, his face completely void of any emotions as he extracts his hands from yours.

"I know." Is all he says.

His eyes drill into yours, as if accusing you of a crime. He looks angry. Just how he looked the day you brought Chan to his party.

"Why are you still marrying her then?" You question.

He sits up straight, "Y/n, I wish I could explain. But I can't. I'm sorry. And please, stay out of this, okay?"

"Why? Why should I stay out of it?" Your voice threatens to break, "I cannot watch my best friend marry a woman who's not loyal. You deserve better than this, Bin."

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Changbin's lips as he taps his foot against the floor, "Let me correct you, y/n. You were my best friend. Seven years ago. You're not anymore."

Your heart shatters.

A part of you knows you deserve this after ghosting him for seven long years. You were the center of each other's world at one point of time.How could you have been so selfish to ever think that your absence and lack of communication wouldn't hurt him?

"Changbin, I'm sorry for everything I did okay. B-but I never stopped thinking or worrying about you. Even for one second. And I still do."

Changbin pushes his chair back and stands up while you stay frozen in your seat.

"It doesn't seem like that though. "

"What do you even mean!"

"Chan. I mean Chan, y/n." He grabs his phone and purse, "Goodbye, y/n. I hope Chan turns out to be a better friend than I ever did." With that, the love of your life walks out of Yang's Cafe.

And for once, he doesn't even look back.

* "Y/n, don't let go of my hand!"

Changbin is panting heavily, his voice shaking with fear as he desperately tries to hold onto you.

He should have known it would be a bad idea to play badminton near the infamous cliff in your town yet when you had showed him your innocent smile and pleading eyes that day, he just couldn't say no.

Your sweaty hands clutch his, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Your free hand grabs the rough surface of the rocky cliff to keep yourself from falling.

You want to cry; but you're too traumatized to even let out more than a few terrified grunts. "Y/n," he yells, "I'm going to try and pull you up one more time, okay?."

You don't even remember how you had ended up in this situation; one second you were happily giggling, playing badminton with Changbin and in the next second, you found yourself hanging by the cliff, praying for your dear life.

With all the energy he has left, he tries to pull you up onto the surface.

"Y/n, you have to free the other hand. Let go of that rock." He pants.

You shake your head vigorously, you know you would not survive if you let go of the rock, you'd fall thousands of feet below into absolute nothingness.

"Y/n, please listen to me." Changbin pleads, now crying, "Please. I'll catch you, I promise. I'll not let you die. Just..please."

Changbin sounds like he's about to give up and in all honesty, you couldn't blame him really. Everytime your eyes fall on what's beneath you, a part of you loses hope.

"Please, come on, y/n," he's still pulling at your free hand, while his right hand awaits desperately to grab the other hand. A mixture or sweat and tears grace his face, making him shine under the bright afternoon sun. Your heart aches at the mere thought of never seeing him again- your friend, your childhood crush, your partner in everything.

Well, here goes nothing then.

You suck in a deep breath and let go the Rock, immediately reaching for Changbin. He is quick to grab both of your arms and in one swift movement, he pulls you up onto the surface.

You fall onto his chest, "Y-you saved me."

Changbin let's out a sob mixed with a relieved giggle, pulling you into his arms.

Your eyes feel heavy, as darkness slowly begins to engulf your vision.

"Oh God, I am so sorry this happened, y/n. It's all my fault." He cries, rubbing your back softly, "I'm so sorry. I thought I was going to lose you, oh God. Fuck!"

You want to tell him that it was never his fault, and that you wouldn't even be alive if not for him but your body betrays you and your body goes limp against his.

*

"I'm not leaving this neighborhood."

Your hands rest angrily on your waist as your mom frantically walks from your closet to where the suitcase is spread open on your bed, shifting all your clothes. She dumps them inside the suitcase, not bothering to fold them even.

"You will do as I say! That Seo Changbin tried to push you off of a cliff and heaven knows what he might do next!" Your mom yells back.

You sit at the edge of your bed, trying to keep yourself calm, "Mom, I told you it was an accident. I fell because I was going after the shuttlecock and didn't notice the cliff. Moreover, why would my best friend want try to kill me!"

Your mom let's out a sarcastic laugh, closing the suitcase roughly. She looks at you with eyes full of contempt and a part of you knows that there's no point in trying to convince her. Her mind is already made. Yet you refuse to go down without a fight.

"You're just sixteen, sweetie. You don't know anything about the cruel world, " your mother sighs, "Rich people are not friends with anyone. Changbin may be nice to you but he only sees you as a pathetic poor girl."

"Mom, we're not even poor!"

"Yes, I know. But those filthy rich businessmen consider everyone below their economic status poor. His family probably doesn't like him being friends with you which is why they asked him to get rid of you."

You think of Mrs. Seo's face in your head, always smiling and always welcoming. You remember Changbin's sister and how she'd promised to let you borrow her dress for this year's winter prom. And you think about Changbin- his face, his smile, his passion for music and his protectiveness towards you. Why would these people ever want to hurt you?

"Mom, you're being ridiculous right now! Do you even hear yourself!" You stand up from the bed, now beyond frustrated.

She walks upto you and grabs your arm tightly, nails digging into your skin as you whimper slightly. "You will listen to me. I am your mother and you will listen to me. " she growls, "Pack the rest of your stuff. We're leaving tomorrow."

When she finally walks out your bedroom, your first instinct is to dress yourself in your black hoodie and track pants, and quietly slip out of the back window of your room.

The cold air nips at your skin, goosebumps slowly appearing on your arms and legs but you're too preoccupied to pay too much heed to it.

You reach Changbin's house and like always, walk up to the backyard and climb upto his room through the emergency staircase.

When Changbin hears knocks on his window, he quickly removes his headphones, "y/n?"

He walks upto the window and let's you in, his heart more at peace now than it's ever been the entire day. The guilt from the accident you had earlier was clawing at his conscience.

His room is mostly dark except for his table lamp. You notice the lyrics notebook lying on the table, open with some scribbles and random phrases on the pages.

"How are you feeling?"

You sit at the edge of his bed, cross legged while he kneels on the floor to get to your level. His hands find yours naturally.

"Fine," you swallow the tears that have been accumulating since you left the house, "Changbin, I- we're leaving tomorrow."

Changbin is taken aback; his heart shattering into billions of pieces at your words.

"Leaving? What do you mean Leaving?" his voice trembles.

You lick your dry lips and tell him everything your mom had told you earlier. When his face twists bitterly, a part of you wishes you'd held your tongue yet a bigger part of you wants Changbin to know the truth now; you didn't want him sending you off with lies in his mind and the fear of him finding out some years later just killed you inside.

"I'm so sorry, Changbin. Mom's just not been okay after the divorce." Your voice breaks when Changbin refuses to look at you, "I know she's speaking bullshit. But there's absolutely nothing I can do to change her mind, I've tried I swear. I'm sorry, Changbin."

When Changbin finally does look at you, even in the dim lit room, you see the tears glistening on his face, mirroring the ones that roll down your cheeks. "Why are you sorry, y/n? I don't blame your mom." He mutters, "It was partly my fault. I should have taken more care, I-"

You cup his cheek, "Shh. Bin, are we really going to spend my last night here crying and blaming ourselves? We might never see each other again."

The words sink deep into his soul, and he nods. He wills his tears back in as he grabs your hand tighter.

"Okay. What do you wanna do?"

You smile a little, "You're not gonna like it though. "

"Stargazing it is then." He giggles a little as the both of you make your way to balcony attached to his room.

It is quiet outside, unlike the noise in your head and you feel the calmness spreading to you when you look up at the stars.

Changbin brings a picnic mat from inside and spreads it out on the floor, along with two pillows and a blanket.

"We'll stay in touch, yeah? If you ever need anything, I'll be right here." He reassures you, lying beside you, hands behind his head.

You smile yet you cannot bring yourself to promise him the same because you know your mother would do everything in her power to push the two of you apart, even to the point of physically hurting Changbin. You would never want that so you'd rather distance yourself and let Changbin forget about you. And maybe, just maybe fate would be a little nicer to you and decide to bring you into his life again. Many years later.

He presses a soft kiss to your head, "You'll always be my best friend, y/n. I don't care how far we are."

It takes everything in your being to not repeat the words.

*

"Changbin, come on we're getting you to the hospital this instant, okay?" Mrs. Seo is furious next morning, running from room to room, looking through the list of doctors she'd saved just in case of emergency.

When she looks at her son, sitting on the sofa with one of his eye irises turning a glowing red, she is reassured that this is an emergency.

"How did this even happen, mom? I swear I didn't try to do anything funny with my eye." He murmurs, scared, "It feels so itchy, gosh!"

Mrs.Seo looks at him with concern just when the doctor picks the call, "Oh, hello Dr.Lee! Thank god you picked up!"

After his mom walks out of his room, Changbin quickly types you a text,

Binnie: Hey. Did you leave already?

Y/nnie: No not yet. We've stopped at the doctor's.

Changbin's eyes widen in alarm.

Binnie: What why?

You look at your face in the decorative mirror at the doctor's waiting room, one of your irises burning into a bright shade of ruby.

Y/nnie: Mom's running a cold.

You close the messenger app before he even replies, deciding to change your number and deleting all your old contacts as soon as you move into your new house. And as much as it hurt you, this one text turned out to be the last time Changbin and you ever talked.

*

It has been raining all day, which means you were stuck in your goddamn house with nothing to do but cry about Changbin and your lost friendship and your broken heart.

After you manage to get some food into your body during dinner time, you crawl back to your room and look into the mirror as you comb your hair and moisturize your skin.

(Self care is important, y'all)

Your red iris stares back at you, taunting your mistakes and calling you a coward.

If only you had still tried to keep in touch with him, if only that stupid accident wouldn't have happened in the first place, if only.

Suddenly, a knock on your balcony door makes you jump in your place.

Shit. Is it a burglar?

You grab the closest thing that could be classified as a weapon - which happens to be an umbrella.

The knocking continues.

"Y/n, it's Changbin." He yells, "Can I please talk to you?"

You freeze in your spot.

Why in the world is he here? Does he have anything worse to say? Is he here to invite you to his wedding? But why would he sneak in through the balcony when he can easily ring the main door bell.

"Y/n, are you in there?"

You quickly walk upto the door and slide it open, revealing Changbin, completely drenched in the rain. His wet hair stuck to his face and "Shit. What the- God, come inside!"

He obeys and tiptoes inside your room, a guilty expression plastered on his face.

You guide him directly to the bathroom and offer him a towel.

"What are you even doing here, Bin?" You lean against the door frame, hands crossed over your chest.

He is drying his hair with the towel when he looks up at you as if to answer your question but he stops. His mouth hangs open as his eyes remain glued to your face.

And that's when you realize why he looks so surprised.

"Shit- fuck." You turn around immediately, "my lenses," you mutter to yourself.

But before you can even walk upto your dressing table, Changbin has caught your wrist and spun you around, pulling you closer to his body.

"Your eye." He let's out a shaky breath.

"Yes, I know. Please don't freak out. It's always been like this after -"

"After the accident." He finishes your sentence, "I know."

Your mouth runs dry as his face draws in closer, "What do you mean you know? What do you know?"

He let's go of your wrist and takes a step back, turning around so that his back faces you.

And when he turns to look at you again, you swear you could have passed out there and then.

"Y-you have it too." You whisper, weak in the knees, "You have a red iris too."

Changbin gives you a small smile, "Yes, y/n."

"But why? What does this mean?" You say, "Is it a symptom of some chronic illness?"

"It's a soul mark."

"What's a soul mark?"

"It's a mark that exists on the bodies of soulmates."

You feel a pang in your chest; like someone was squeezing your heart out of your chest.

"Right," You fall back onto the bed, dazed with the sudden piece of information, "And how do you know all this?"

Changbin kneels down in front of you, hands finding yours. He looks more relaxed than he did since the first day you come back to town.

It almost feels like you had been given back your old friend.

"I've been doing my research, y/n. After you left, this is all I've been doing." He says, "This is also the reason why I had gotten engaged. By that time, I had given up on finding a soulmate. So I just settled for whatever I got. I didn't even feel bad when I found out my fiance was not in love with me. For the world, we might look like a happy couple, but truly, it was just a marriage of convenience for our parents' business."

You bite your lips wondering how to respond to these words. He'd laid bare his heart in front of you, something you never thought he'd do ever again.

"What now?" You say, tired.

He intertwines your fingers, "Also, I'm sorry for yesterday. I shouldn't have said all that."

You nod, "It's alright. I know you didn't mean it. And for the record, I and Chan have nothing going on."

"And for the record, I also broke off my engagement."

Your eyes widen as a gasp leaves your lips, "What? Why?"

"Because when I told my parents that I do not love my fiancé, and that I have only ever loved you, they said my happiness was more important than their business."

When you don't reply to his words, he looks worried, "Hey, you don't have to feel burdened to like me back and all okay? Literally, if you want me to leave you alone, I will. I understand-"

You pull him by the nape and place the softest, gentlest, most sincere kiss on his lips.

"I feel the same way, dumbass." You sigh as you pull him into your arms.

He muzzles his face in the crook of your neck, playing with your hair from behind, "So what now?"

"Let's start with a date." You say, "Let's take it slow."

Changbin wraps his arms tighter around you, kissing your cheek, "As you wish, my love. "

#skz #stray kids #skz au #skz scenarios #stray kids scenario #skz changbin #seo changbin #skz ff #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x reader #stray kids fics #stray kids changbin #seo changbin au #skz soulmate au #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz changbin x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #3racha #spearb #skz changbin fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #kpop au #skz kpop #kpop fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Sic Semper Tyrannis

A syndicate x Platonic! Reader/ Technoblade x Reader

Warnings: murder, kidnapping, blood, a somewhat graphic depiction of getting stitches

Word count: about 2800

Ao3 Link: wow.

I’m excited to share this. I did write a version with an angsty ending, which is up on my Ao3 account here if you want to read that one as well. Fair warning though, while writing it I found myself dying inside so I don’t know how you guys would feel. It was the original way I wanted to take the story but as I was writing I also created this one which is an alternate, fluffier ending. Reader is a raccoon hybrid in this one. Don’t forget to like and follow for more. Enjoy!

It almost seems to be a mistake, Techno thinks. The woman- no girl- standing in front of him never struck him as the anarchist type. She was always too soft, too nice for any of it. Yet here she stands next to Philza, shivering from the chill of the cave and rubbing her bare arms. 

“This is the new recruit I was telling you about.” The winged man smiles at Techno.

“She seems… soft.” He mutters, taking in her shivering form before handing her a cloak.

She only nods, accepting the cloak gratefully and clipping it around her neck with ease before burrowing into the thick material. 

“Trust me. You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew her how I do.” Phil mutters, rubbing at his shoulder.

“Fine. But do you swear to uphold the values of the syndicate? Do you promise that you’ll help in our mission to destroy the corrupted governments that threaten the freedoms of its citizens?” Techno stands over her, red eyes practically glowing.

She nods hastily under his seven foot tall frame and he seems satisfied as he backs away. “Okay then. Come take a seat. We have a lot to talk about today.” 

Techno makes his way up the stairs to the table behind him, taking a seat facing the entranceway. Y/n looks up at Philza and he only shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about him. He seems scary but he won’t hurt you. In fact, that’s the nicest he’s been to someone that’s tried to join yet.” Philza says before walking towards the table.

“Wait- what do you mean ‘tried to join’? Phil, what happened to them?” Y/n says in a panic.

“We don’t talk about them.” Ranboo chimes in. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to your first meeting.” 

Y/n scurries up to a chair at the table, taking the one across from Phil and next to Ranboo. She sits furthest from Niki and Techno who both seem to be scrutinizing her every move.

“Now, let’s get this meeting started. First things first, we have a new recruit. This is Y/n. You all know her, but she’s going to be joining us. You’ll need a codename.” Techno states, and Y/n thinks a moment as they stare at her.

“Dolos. I’ll go with Dolos.” Techno nods, eyes flashing with an unknown emotion before returning to their usual blankness.

“Okay. Now that that’s over with, is there anything in particular you guys wanted to discuss? Any new information or governments?” 

Phil nods, standing as he stands from the chair and speaks to the group. Y/n zones out a little for the rest of the meeting, nodding along but not really listening. Soon, it’s time to go and they’re all standing, the sound of chairs scraping on the floor loudly and Ranboo’s laughter at something Niki said echoes through the small space.

“Y/n, can I speak to you alone.” It’s not a question, and the woman swallows thickly as she follows the piglin hybrid into a small room that connects to the main one.

“So why Dolos? I mean, of everything you could’ve chosen, why’d you choose Dolos?” He asks, standing against the door to the room, blocking her in.

“Ah, well- you see, I’ve been told I’m good at deceiving people and that I’m so good at it, no one ever knows until I tell them, and even then they don’t believe me. I think that it’s a good codename, that’s all.” She stutters out, and Techno’s eyes narrow.

“I’m not easily fooled. If you’re lying, or you’re here as a spy, I’ll figure it out. And then not even Phil will be able to save you. Do you understand me?” He grunts out, standing over her with his sword held in his hand.

She nods and all but teleports out of the room to get away as quick as possible. He looks after her, seeing the disappointed look on Phil’s face outside and the confused glances from Niki and Ranboo. He steps out of the room as well and leaves the meeting hall without another word. 

It’s a week before anyone hears directly from Y/n again, and when they do it’s not for reason they would have ever expected. 

“I need your help.” Techno takes in the sight of the blood soaked clothing that covers the young woman.

“What happened?” He’s bewildered, the first time he’s been surprised in a long time.

“It’s not my blood. Most of it’s from the people we were fighting, but some of it’s his.” She points behind her where Phil stands, holding up a severely injured Tommy.

“Come on.” Techno grunts, ears twitching. The voices chime in, but he pushes them aside. 

“Set him on the couch.” Phil lays him down gently and gets to work brewing potions for the young boy. 

Y/n sits next to him, clutching his hand tightly with one of hers as she continues putting pressure on the gaping wound in his stomach. Her striped tail swishes nervously on the floor behind her and the large black ears lay back against her head.

“Get his shirt off. I need to sew it up.” Techno has his sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he comes over with a small first aid kit.

Y/n uses her sharp nails to cut away the stomach section of Tommy’s shirt, revealing the ugly looking gash. She pales at the sight of it, getting up and running to the bathroom to most likely vomit. Techno only sighs as he gets to work, wiping off the dried blood around the wound and starting to stitch it up. Tommy shifts uncomfortably on the couch, crying out at the needle threading in and out of his skin. 

Once done, Phil shoves the healing potion in Tommy’s face, which he drinks and then promptly passes out. Y/n comes back from the bathroom, hair tied back from her face.

“What happened?” Techno asks, standing in front of her.

“We were running through the woods, having fun- y’know, kid things- when we came across a small group of people. They started to attack us, and we started to fight back, thinking there weren’t anymore of them. Well, we were wrong. Very wrong. We wouldn’t have escaped if it wasn’t for Phil. Before we got away though, they said something like ‘down with the order’. I don’t know what they meant though. It was hard to understand them through their masks.” Y/n spews out and Techno only stares at her.

“‘Down with the order’? That sounds like they know something. What did they look like? Any distinct markings for kingdoms or anything?” Techno says softly.

She shakes her head. “Nothing that I could see, unless I missed it. I could probably lead you back to the place we fought at. I don’t know if more came to collect the bodies or not.” 

“Take me there. But first, go get cleaned up. We don’t need you walking around drenched in blood.” Techno says, nodding to the bathroom. 

One shower and change of clothes later, the pair are on their way to where Y/n and Tommy were attacked. Techno notices her fidgeting more than usual, constantly looking around them and watching as she jumps at the smallest of noises. He chalks it up to having been just attacked and they continue walking.

She stops in a clearing and he stands beside her. No sign of bloodied bodies is anywhere to be found. In fact, there’s no evidence a fight even occurred here. No blood spots on the ground, no scrapes in the ground, no disturbance of wildlife.

“Are you sure this is the place?” He turns to look at her, but she’s gone. Suddenly, something hits him from behind and the last thing he sees is Y/n, crying softly as someone holds onto her.

Techno slowly opens his eyes, registering the cold metal against his wrists and multitude of people surrounding him. The voices scream out in rage- rage at Y/n for getting them captured, rage at himself for allowing this to happen, anger for not trying to stop him and Y/n from being captured. They’re angry at a lot of things, and he grunts as he feels a headache coming on.

Y/n stirs in the chair across from him, whimpering softly and her tail waves behind her slowly. “Where-”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you need to tell us who the rest of the members of your little club is, or else you both die. Tell us, and you live. It’s that simple.” A voice speaks out, a young man with brown hair and light eyes.

He rests a sword on Y/n’s shoulder and looks Techno in the eyes. He says nothing, glaring at the man instead.

“Are you going to tell me? If not, then I guess I’ll need to encourage you to do so.” The young man sighs, and takes out a knife, grabs hold of Y/n’s tail and presses the knife against the base of it.

Y/n screams loudly, and Techno hates the sound of it more than any other sound he’s heard. The voices seem to hate it as well, yelling at him to just tell the man the names of the other members to end it.

“Fine.” Techno gives in. 

The young man smiles, dropping Y/n’s tail and wiping the knife off on her shirt. “Oh good! That’s very good.” 

“Don’t do it. It’s not worth it. My life’s not worth it.” Y/n mumbles, tears falling down her face as she clenches onto the armrests of the chair tightly.

“You might know one of them. His name is Zephyrus. Has black wings, wears lots of green. Another one is named Lethe. He’s half enderman. Good luck catching him though. The last one is Nemesis. You might never find her though. She spends most of her time underground.” Techno states and Y/n almost laughs at the use of the codenames.

“You’re lying.”

The young man holds the knife to Y/n’s throat and presses gently, causing a small trickle of blood to run down her neck. “You have one more chance to tell me their names before I kill her and then you. I’ll give you to the count of ten. Ten…” Techno growls at the man before him, the sight of his knife pressed against the woman's throat more than angering.

“I told you. Those are their names. It’s not my fault if you don’t believe me. Now let her go. I don’t even like her. Killing her wouldn’t get me to reveal anything.” Techno says calmly.

The man considers this, pausing his counting. “You’re still lying. I saw you help her and her friend, the blonde. I’m surprised the cut didn’t kill him, to be honest. I think I’ll have to go back to your cabin when I’m done here and finish the job.” 

Steam is basically pouring out of Techno’s ears and his eyes glow a bright red. “Don’t fucking touch him.” 

“Yes! I will, unless you tell me the real names of the other members of your little club.” He releases Y/n’s head from his grip, and pulls his knife away from her neck. 

“Phil, Niki, and Ranboo. Those are their names. Now let her go.” Techno growls and Y/n shakes her head.

“He’s lying. Those aren’t their names. There’s not even more than one other member of the group. The third member of the group is named Dream. He’s currently in prison for killing several people and blowing up a country not once, but twice as well as manipulating kids. He’s the only other member of the group.” Y/n says, hoping that they don’t know she’s lying and buy her bluff. 

The god currently sits in prison, waiting out his days monotonously. They would definitely all die the minute they try and kill him- if they even do get to him, considering Sam would kill them the minute they step foot in the prison.

“Finally, someone here is telling the truth. You’re going to give me the exact coordinates of where the prison is, and then you two are going to stay here while we go kill him.” Y/n gives him the coordinates and the man is almost bouncing in joy. “For your sake, we better not be walking into a trap. Let’s go boys.” They leave the room and Y/n sighs, her head hanging forward heavily, as if her neck can’t hold itself up anymore.

“What was that?” Techno asks and she shrugs.

“I told you. People don’t believe I’m capable of lying to them. They’re all going to die trying to get to Dream, or he’s going to kill them himself.” Y/n yawns.

“Yeah, and we need to get out of here in case some of them survive.” Techno says, struggling against the restraints holding him to the chair and eventually manages to break them.

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Techno mumbles, picking the lock on Y/n’s restraints and lifting her up easily in his arms.

The maze of hallways is nearly impossible to escape, but they do it somehow and step outside to a snowy tundra. The wind blows frozen ice shards through the air and it bites at their skin. They were stripped of gear and their cloaks. The cold is no match for Techno, who produces enough body heat to stay warm enough, but Y/n shivers in his arms and presses her face against his chest in an effort to keep warm.

Techno’s communicator beeps as it regains signal, and he works it out of his pocket, seeing the messages from Phil and quickly shoots one back with their coordinates and a request for blankets.

Looking around, the only shelter Techno can find until Phil arrives is the building they came out of but that’s not an option in case the people come back. Techno settles for sitting on the ground and hugging the woman to his chest, doing his best to protect her from the wind and cold. 

“Oh my god…” Phil says as he lands in front of the pair, quickly grabbing Y/n and wrapping the cloak around her.

“Take her back to my cabin. She needs to get warmed up and is going to probably need stitches in her tail.” Phil nods, passing his sword to Techno.

“Will you be fine walking back? I can zip right back here to get you. Tommy’s healed and can look after Y/n while I do so.” 

Techno shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. After all, you need to check on Ranboo and Niki. Make sure they’re okay. We’re not extremely far from the cabin, I’ll make it back before the end of the night. Now go already.” Techno says and Phil nods, taking off quickly with Y/n.

He looks back at the building they were in, and heads back inside. If there’s anyone left here, they’ll pay for what happened.

It’s a few days before Techno comes back and Philza spends the time either worrying over it or about the worsening condition of Y/n, who seems to have developed a bad cold or flu or hypothermia or all of it, really, as well as making sure Tommy doesn’t rip his stitches trying to do stupid stuff. When Techno does come back, he’s covered in blood and doesn’t even stop to talk to the members of the syndicate sitting in the living room or even wash up, instead going straight for the room where Y/n is sleeping and peeking in.

“She’s not doing well at all. I stitched her tail up, but she’s developed a fever and is still freezing cold all the time and isn’t getting any better, even with a ton of healing potions. I don’t know if she’s going to make it.” Phil mutters beside Techno and he only nods.

He steps out of the doorway and leaves to take a shower, taking extra care to scrub the blood out of his hair and changes into comfortable clothes. Peeking into Y/n’s room again, he sees her shivering underneath the blankets. Well no wonder she’s sick, she’s still freezing cold, he thinks to himself before opening the door further and stepping into the room. He climbs under the covers and Y/n instantly curls up to him, soaking in his natural warmth.

“Thank you, for getting me out of there.” She mutters, before falling back asleep.

“Anything for you.” He whispers, holding her tighter against him in an almost protective manner. 

Phil watches from the doorway, smiling as he watches Techno fall asleep curled up with her.

Tagged: 

@thegeekisheere

#dream smp #dream #technoblade #ranboo #philza minecraft #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #anarchist #anarchy #lizzy writes

[tpwkjerii]

strawberry kisses

you and felix have a longstanding tradition of baking the day after finals. usually, it’s the best method of relaxing after long hours of studying. unfortunately, you find yourself rather tense this time — after all, it’s always fun to spend an entire day in a cramped kitchen with your crush, isn’t it?

pairing: lee felix x reader

warnings: fluff and kissing, mild angst, reader likes strawberries (sorry if you’re allergic skdlsd), ex boyfriend (but supportive bestie) minho, reader has low self confidence :(, like two curse words, kisses!!

genre: friends to lovers au, kinda idiots to lovers, mutual pining

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: short fic for Felix hehe

Your eyes glazed over as you reviewed the last response of your final exam of the term. After two long hours of plugging equations you hardly understood into your nearly-dead calculator and speed-writing to the point where you’re sure you’ve bruised your dominant hand, you finally finished. At lightning speed, you gathered your exam papers and submitted them at the front with a quick prayer to the universe.

A few other students followed your rushed pace out of the large lecture hall, all of you eager to finally get out of the stuffy room.

As you stepped out of the packed hall and into the cooling outdoors, you checked your phone, which was filled with texts from the one person you were trying desperately to get out of your head (and miserably failing at that).

felix (strawberry head) <3

5:23 PM

did you finish your chem final ???

hyunjin and i just submitted our video for our dance performance

your editing was very good btw :D

5:35 PM

y/nnnnn you’re taking forever :(

we’re waiting at the quad for you !!

5:40 PM

*i am waiting at the quad for you

the others got too hungry and left, but i’m waiting for you!

pls hurry it’s cold :[

You bit back a laugh at his texts, his heartwarming tone filling you with a familiar fuzzy feeling. You pushed the feeling aside as you texted a reply.

y/n

5:43 PM

be there in 2 :D

You stifled a smile as you rushed towards the quad. Soon enough, you saw Felix and his bright, red-dyed hair (you first noted that it closely resembled a strawberry). The moment your eyes met his, you felt your heart skip a beat and heat spread across your face. This was the common reaction you’ve had for the past few months whenever you see Felix.

He rushed over to you with a giddy smile and his arms outstretched. Quickly, he barrelled into you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You took so long,” he whined, his chest vibrating as he spoke.

“I know, I know. ‘M sorry,” you responded, your voice slightly muffled by his shirt. You took a second to enjoy his hold and the comforting warmth that Felix always provided you whenever he was near. Over the past few years, you’ve grown accustomed to the scent of his sweet floral perfume, the feeling of his tight hugs, and the way he played with your fingers when he was bored.

All the things you were fond of were now extreme nuisances in your life. Not because they were annoying or because you disliked Felix, but rather the complete opposite; you were completely, helplessly, and foolishly in love with him.

“You ready to go?” Felix asked suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. He brought his arms down from around you, and you looked down at the ground as you nodded, hoping that he didn’t see the intense blush that was spreading from your face to your neck.

You are so fucked for tomorrow.

After an entire night of tossing and turning in anxiety, the next day finally arrived. To say you were nervous was a massive understatement.

The minute you woke up, you began to anxiously clean your apartment while your roommate Ryujin laughed at you. As you wiped down every visible crevice, she made sure to pester you about a “missed spot” or tempt you with sweets.

“You’ve never cleaned this much whenever Felix came over before,” she pointed out with a laugh while you wiped down the kitchen counters for the fourth time.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

Ryujin scoffed. “It is so obvious that you like Felix, there’s no point in lying to me,” she stated bluntly.

Your hand froze mid-wipe on the counter. You looked over at your blue-haired roommate nervously. “Is it really… that obvious?”

“Yes,” she deadpanned.

You winced and dropped your head onto the smooth stone countertop. “Do you think he’s noticed?” you moaned into your arms.

“If he hasn’t, I will personally pay for his glasses prescription.”

You whined again as you lifted your head up to look directly at Ryujin. “If he’s noticed then why hasn’t he said anything?”

She stood up as she answered, “Not sure but you could always ask him today.”

Your mouth dropped in horror at the suggestion. “I can’t tell him how I feel! That would completely ruin our friendship!”

“So you’d rather continue tip-toeing around him and never get a clear answer?” she questioned, her arms crossed.

“Yes.”

Ryujin sighed and started to collect her things. “You can do whatever you want,” she started as she placed her papers in her backpack, “but I recommend you tell him soon.” She stood up and headed for the door. Just before opening it and leaving you alone with your thoughts until Felix arrived, she turned around and said, “I won’t be home until late, have fun.” With that, she winked and walked out of your shared apartment.

You scoffed at her suggestive tone and stood upright to check the time.

10:08 AM

You gasped. Felix said he was going to arrive at 10:30, but knowing him he would be at least 15 minutes early, meaning you only had 7 minutes to get yourself together!

You cursed and rushed to your bedroom. Switching out of your wrinkled pajamas, you opted for a random hoodie you grabbed out of your closet and jeans. After you changed, you made a beeline for the bathroom and fixed your appearance. You quickly brushed through your hair and washed your face, hoping you removed all remnants of your restless sleep.

Just as you predicted, you heard four distinctive knocks on your front door right at 10:15.

“Coming!” you exclaimed as you rushed out of your bathroom.

Right before you opened the front door, you placed a hand on your beating heart and mumbled words of encouragement to yourself. Then, after deciding that you were probably taking too long, you pulled the door open.

Immediately, Felix, covered in a large hoodie and arms filled with large bags of baking ingredients, greeted you with a large grin. Like every other time, you felt your heart skip a beat when you made eye contact with him.

“Hi,” you said simply, a smile on your face.

“Hi,” he responded. He looked you up and down, asking, “Are you wearing my hoodie?” 

You paled and looked down at the large pink hoodie, immediately recognizing it as the one that Felix lent you almost one year ago when he dropped you off at the airport since you forgot yours in the car. Once you got back from your trip, you’d forgotten to give it back to him.

“O-oh,” you stuttered, looking down at the oversized sleeves. “I didn’t even realize,” you continued awkwardly. “You can ha -”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, the smile never leaving his face. He shrugged. “You look better in it anyways.”

Your mouth dropped and you found yourself unable to respond for a few moments. Felix laughed at your dumbfoundedness and gently pushed you aside to walk into the apartment. Once he set the bags down on the kitchen counters, you returned to your senses and closed the door to walk over to him.

“So, what are we making today?” you asked, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. It wasn’t an easy task to do, considering his proximity to you.

You held your breath as he grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes. “What’s your favorite fruit?” he asked excitedly.

“Er, strawberries?” you answered, tilting your head to the side in mild confusion.

At that, Felix let go of your hands and quickly pulled out a carton of fresh strawberries from one of the bags. You gasped in delight at the sight of the bright fruit and immediately thanked him.

“It’s no big deal,” he responded while sliding the fruits into the fridge. “I’m gonna eat most of the tarts and choco strawberries anyways,” he added with a sneaky laugh.

You scoffed. “You always say that but you always end up giving me the most.” You smirked at him while taking out the baking materials.

“I don’t give it to you,” he countered. “You steal them.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you told him with a sing-song tone. He laughed from your side, and you swore that you heard actual sparkles, as if he were a fairy, when he did.

You cleared your throat, hoping to rid your mind of distracting thoughts that could be potential problems during the next seven hours that Felix would be at your apartment. “So, master chef Felix,” you started, lowering your voice like a TV show announcer. “What are you going to do first?”

“Well, my fair announcer,” he began, holding up the silicon whisk like a microphone. “I think we should start with preparing the shortbread dough, what about you?”

“Ah, you are the chef. Lead the way,” you responded with a wide smile.

You both laughed together and actually began the baking. Like usual, Felix did most of the work while you played music and assisted from the side. You worked together seamlessly, and soon enough the shortbread cookies were done and strawberry jam cooling to the side.

While you taste-tested the jam, Felix began to whisk the melted chocolate, and you took this time to admire him. You stood at his side, allowing you to admire his side profile.

Felix was easily one of the most beautiful individuals you ever laid your eyes on. But his appearance wasn’t the only part you fell for — he was one of the few people whose inside beauty matched their outside beauty.

Felix was kind, funny, optimistic, and just about every positive adjective you could find in a dictionary. After every failed test, he was there with a cup of strawberry ice cream and a shoulder to cry on. When you landed your first job, he was there to celebrate with you even when your own family wasn’t. And when you and Minho mutually broke up, he was there to give you advice as you coped with the end of your first relationship.

How could you not fall for him?

And sometimes you had the feeling that he liked you back. The touches that would linger for just a few seconds too long, the soft smiles that Chan claimed he only ever gave to you, and his late-night texts all spurned a tiny hopeful fire in you that kept your crush alive.

No matter how many times you tried to get over him and convince yourself that your crush didn’t exist, the tiny voice in your head still spoke. “But what if he likes you back?”

Now, as Felix stood by your side with a soft smile on his face while he whisked the chocolate, that voice screamed louder than ever.

And just as you gained a sliver of courage, the same paralyzing thoughts that have held you back for the past few months returned.

Felix was out of your league in every way. He was social and easily commanded the attention of an entire room with so much as two words. His outward beauty matched his insides, and everyone on campus reached a collective agreement that if angels ever existed and walked among us — Lee Felix was certainly one of them.

And those things were only the tip of the iceberg that is Felix. He was talented, sensitive, supportive, passionate, and everything you could ever ask for and then some.

You then thought back to all the people he rejected - kindly, of course - and how you matched up to them. If Felix didn’t choose to go out with all those beautiful and talented people, what on Earth made you think you would choose you?

At this point, Felix picked up on your sudden silence and how your breaths grew heavy and uneven.

“Are you… alright?” he asked carefully, his own chest beating heavily.

You stared at him, panicked that he caught onto your apprehension. “Um…” you started, trailing off as you met his gaze.

Felix let go of the whisk and grabbed your hands. “You can say whatever you need to.”

“I uh,” you started after a few moments, internally battling yourself to gain courage as you realized that it’s now or never. “I kinda like you,” you admitted quietly, looking down at your intertwined hands anxiously. You waited for him to pull his hand away in disgust and start to kindly reject you like he did to all those other people, but it never came. After a few seconds, his hands still the entire time, you looked up at him with glassy eyes in confusion.

“What?” he finally said, his deep voice softer than ever.

You looked back down at your hands shamefully. “Do I really have to repeat it?” you asked weakly. “I like you, Felix. I have for the past few months and it’s been driving me insane because it feels like my heart’s about to stop dead whenever I see you and I can never think straight when you’re with me. Apparently, it’s been pretty obvious and I really tried my best to get over it so it wouldn’t hurt our friendship.

“Trust me, I really wanted to get over it but I couldn’t, and I know you don’t like me back so it’s ok. I can deal with it on my own and you can just leave a -”

“Y/N,” Felix said suddenly, his voice firm. You looked up, tears rolling down your face as you were sure that he was about to reject you.

“Felix please don’t interrupt me. At least let me finish what I have to say,” you pleaded softly, removing your hands from his.

“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice much gentler. He carefully wiped the tears from your face and took your hands into his again. “Can I say something before you finish?” he requested.

You choked back a sob as you nodded, certain that he was just going to let you down kindly.

“I like you too, Y/N,” he said shyly, a blush spreading across his freckled face.

Your entire body froze.

“I was too scared to admit it because I didn’t think you liked me back,” he continued, the words slowly registering in your mind. “To be honest, I thought you still liked Minho.”

You blushed at his words, thinking back to all the times you would pull Minho, your ex-boyfriend, to the side to talk about Felix these past few months. You didn’t realize how it must have looked to Felix or your other friends.

“I was also… afraid of ruining our friendship, so I’ve just kept it to myself the past two years.”

You gaped at him. “Two years?” you sputtered, causing him to laugh at the way your eyes widened comically. “That’s when we first started uni!”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I was instantly attracted to the way you fought Chan on why you should be allowed to keep the minifridge in your dorm,” he joked.

You blushed at the embarrassing memory, although it wasn’t completely regrettable as it was how you met most of your current friends — including Felix.

“I’m surprised,” you voiced simply. “I didn’t think you would ever like me back.” You breathed out, your muscles relaxing instantly.

Felix grinned again and he moved slowly to envelop you in his arms. He rested his hands on the small of your back and his head on the crook of your shoulder.

“Does this mean that I can take you out on a date?” he whispered.

“Will you promise to stop taking unflattering pictures of me and sending them to me in the middle of the night?” you asked, your head resting against his and arms around him.

He sighed. “Fine,” he answered reluctantly with a whine.

“Then sure,” you responded and pulled your head back to meet his eyes. His eyes shined from the sunlight pouring through the windows and his freckles glimmered like stars across a canvas. Felix was truly beautiful inside and out.

“You have some strawberry jam on your lip,” he said after a few silent moments where you both admired each other.

“Really?” you asked. Your hand moved from his back towards your face, but Felix caught your hand in midair and returned it to its original position.

“I’ll get it,” he murmured with a gentle smile before closing the distance between your lips.

You held your breath as he pressed his soft lips against yours. You instantly recognized the strawberry chapstick he uses and the taste of the shortbread cookies. He swiped his tongue against the corner of your lip, and the sudden sensation caused a shiver to run down your spine.

You brought your hand up to his hair and gently tugged at his dyed locks. Felix brought you closer to him and massaged your back as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, your face was burning red and you were completely breathless. Felix was smiling giddily, his arms still around yours.

“I think there’s still some jam left,” he told you, not even giving you a second to respond before he pressed his lips against yours once again. This kiss was much more playful than the last as you giggled against each other in the kiss.

“Did you get it all?” you asked him, your voice reduced to a murmur as he continued kissing your lips.

He hummed, kissing you once and twice in between, before responding, “I don’t think so.”

You laughed against his lips. “Well, I guess you better get it all. I can’t have strawberries stuck on my lips all day.”

He laughed with you, and true to his words, he eventually did get all the strawberry jam off (an extra two hours and an uncountable amount of kisses later).

#lee felix #lee felix x reader #felix stray kids #lee felix fanfic #lee felix imagine #lee felix imagines #skz scenarios #skz #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids felix #hyunjin #minho

[himbodiaz]

Watch Me Fall Apart (And I'll Be Yours to Keep)

1856 words. After a tough rescue, both Eddie and Buck end up in the hospital. 

title from only love by ben howard. i wrote most of this in one sitting with no beta so just *gestures vaguley* here 

They've both been here too many times to count—covered in soot, smoke in their lungs, sweat plastering their hair to their faces, but never at the same time. Never where the other can't be near to see, to place a hand on a shoulder, to lean against in support. A fire in a high-rise, a family trapped on the upper floors, and that's all it took for Buck to grab the ropes, Eddie behind him, because where one goes, the other follows. It's their routine, their deal, the promise to have each other's backs, to support whenever needed, it's just never ended them both in the hospital at the same time.

Eddie is the first one released—Buck had been the first to go in, and made sure that Eddie was out before him, because of course he did. And maybe Eddie should've insisted that Buck get out before him, should've argued with him for an extra five seconds, should've done something so that Buck doesn't have to spend the night in the hospital alone. But he didn't, and now Eddie is being sent home and the doctor is refusing to let him see Buck.  

"Mr. Diaz," the doctor says, "Your friend is fine."

Eddie wants to argue with her, because friend? Friend? Like Buck and Eddie have been anything but friends for a long time. Like Buck isn't laying in a hospital bed alone, when Eddie should be there to support him. Like by denying him seeing Buck, all the smoke that was in Eddie's lungs returns and it's almost impossible to breathe for the second time tonight.

"He's asleep now and resting," she continues when Eddie opens his mouth to argue, "Which you should be doing, too. You need to go home and rest, you can come see him in the morning."

"But—"

"Mr. Diaz," she cuts him off, remaining polite, but obviously frustrated, "Visiting hours have been over for a long time, and Mr. Buckley will be discharged in the morning. Someone will give you a call, and you can pick him up then."

The doctor's tone is one of finality, but Eddie can't take no for an answer. Before he can continue pleading his case, Bobby arrives. He comes over to Eddie and the doctor, placing a reassuring hand on Eddie's shoulder. "I've got it from here, thanks doc," he says, before steering Eddie toward the exit. They've barely made it out the doors before Eddie shakes Bobby's hand from his shoulder, and turns on him.

"Bobby," he all but begs, "You have to let me see him. They brought us in at the same time, but I haven't seen him since. I know it's smoke inhalation, and probably some fatigue and dehydration, but they won't let me see him." Eddie knows how he sounds, knows it's desperate in a way he normally isn't, but it's Buck. It's Buck, who has ended up in hospitals more times than he cares to count, who is his partner, who made sure that Eddie got out of the building first, even knowing it would land him more time here—he can't just leave him behind.

"Eddie," Bobby says as evenly as possible—it's the same tone he uses on distraught spouses, and Eddie wants to cry, "I need you to take a breath for a minute, okay? Just take a moment to calm down, and then we'll figure it out."

And yeah, Eddie probably does need to collect himself, because while smoke inhalation can be serious, Buck is getting exactly the care he needs right now. There's nothing for Eddie to do, yet it doesn't stop the helplessness that's settled in the space between his ribs, which only worsened after the doctor told him he was being discharged without Buck. So, Eddie shuts his eyes, and allows himself a few moments to just breathe, to focus on the air entering and then leaving his lungs, to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling. It helps steady him, helps him come back to a relatively even keel.

"Are you good to drive?" Is the first thing that Bobby asks once Eddie opens his eyes. He doesn't think he can talk without freaking out again, so he nods his response. "Okay, good. What's going to happen is I'm going to drive you back to the station, you're going to get your truck, take it home, see Christopher, and go to sleep. Because the doctor was right, you need to rest. And in the morning, when the hospital calls you, you'll go pick up Buck. Sound like a plan?"

Now that he's calmed down and the adrenaline that's been keeping him alert has worn off, Eddie feels a deep tiredness settle in his bones, and it takes all his remaining energy to stay on his feet. Again, Eddie nods in response, walks over to the car, and says, "Take me to the station, Cap." And that's what Bobby does.

Normally, when one of the crew returns from the hospital, the rest of the shift is there to greet them, but no one is there when Eddie arrives, and he's grateful. His nerves are fried, he's exhausted, and he doesn’t think he could handle the team's questions right now. All he wants to do is shower, grab his bag, and go home—thankfully, he's able to do that without even hearing the low hum of conversation that's ever present in the loft.

Eddie is locking the front door behind him and taking off his shoes while he debates whether or not to wake Chris just so he can give him a hug. It's only when he's finally made it to Chris' door that he has his answer—not because he came to a decision himself, but because one was made for him.

Chris' bed is empty, and for a heartbeat Eddie panics, because Christopher isn't in his bed, but then he remembers: he was injured on hour twelve of a twenty-four-hour shift, so of course Chris isn't here. And Eddie should feel relieved, should feel calmer now, but all he can think about is the fact that he can't see his son, and he can't see Buck, and suddenly it's like the anchors that were holding his mooring in place have let go, and he's adrift.

Eddie tries to breathe, tries to remind himself that both his boys are okay, they're both being looked after, they're both safe. He goes to the kitchen, fills a glass with water, and drinks it all in one go. He fills it again, this time bringing it to his room, setting it down on the table beside his bed. Eddie changes into an old t-shirt that Buck left behind ages ago and an old pair of army sweatpants before he slides into bed.

Now that he's home and in bed, the exhaustion should be catching up with him, all but dragging him to sleep. Except, now that Eddie's alone, he can't stop thinking about how quiet the house is, how empty it feels. Even on nights when Chris is away at a sleepover, Buck would always come over, and they'd watch a movie, or a hockey game, or just talk over beers. The negative space, normally filled by laughter and jokes and, god, even Buck's snoring in his ear, feels like a noose around his neck. No matter what he does, Eddie just cannot sleep.

So, Eddie lays in bed and does his best not to think about the call that ended him up here, and Buck alone in the hospital. Does his best not to think about how he should have told Buck to take the daughter out while he got the father. Does his best not to think about how Buck removed his mask to help the victim breathe, and putting himself in danger. A shuddering sob rips through his chest, and he forces himself to sit up because he needs to get air in his lungs or he'll choke on his guilt and fear.

The clock on beside his bed reads quarter after five, so he figures that's good enough for morning, and gets up. He can't stay in his empty house any longer, so Eddie slips on the worn sweater that he keeps hanging off the back of his door, grabs his keys and wallet, puts on his shoes, and then he's out the door.

The drive to the hospital is quick, but now he has nothing to do but wait. He turns on the radio, but keeps it low so that it's just a hum in the background. At some point, Eddie must doze, because the next thing he knows, he's being startled awake by his ringtone and the clock on his dashboard reads half past seven.

"Hello, is this Mr. Di—"

"Yes," he interrupts the caller, not caring how he sounds, "I'm outside."  

"Okay, we'll send him to you now." And it's all Eddie can do to mumble a quick thank you before hanging up.

He doesn't go up to the doors, but his truck is parked close enough to the front that Buck can't miss him. Still, he gets out, leans against the driver side door, and waits. It doesn't take long, maybe a minute or two, and Buck is walking out the doors, looking side to side, eyes searching. He's clean, his curls are soft, if a little messy, and his whole face lights up the moment he sees Eddie.

"You look like shit," is the first thing Buck says to him. He comes right up to Eddie, less than a foot away, and Eddie has to clutch his hands together so he doesn't reach out and touch. But even without touching him, the weight that has made a home in Eddie's chest since last night melts away, like it's made of ice and Buck of flame.

"Well," Eddie tries to joke, "Not all of us got our beauty sleep." But he can't hide the heaviness in his voice, he can't help how it wavers now that the tension is gone, he can't help but lower his head.

"Hey, Eddie," Buck says earnestly, taking hands he didn't even realize were shaking in his own.  

And it's the softness in his voice, the thumb running over his knuckles, the pulse he can feel once he lets himself grip Buck's wrist, that gives him the strength to answer, "Yeah, Buck?"

"We're okay," Buck tells him, like a promise. Like the answer to a question Eddie hadn't dared ask because it terrified him. Buck's hands move from their grip on Eddie's, one hand sliding around his waist, the other coming to the back of his head.

"Yeah," Eddie whispers into the space between Buck's shoulder and neck, "we're okay."

Buck only holds him tighter now, his lips pressed to Eddie's temple, as he releases a shuttering breath. They stay there, each clutching the other, until they no longer feel adrift, until their moorings are once again anchored in a cove, and no longer lost in the rolling waves of the open ocean.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my fic #please be gentle with me #i'm still trying to find my writing voice #and i'm doing my best to write eddie well so i hope i did him justice #(at least as much as i could with how little experience i have writing) #anyway im always open to tips and (polite) critiques #911 on fox #10:30 am ast def was not the time to post this #but i needed to do it or i never would #are they together in this? are they not? who knows? certainly not me!

[lxngbottom]

Mute | N.L.

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville tries to change that.

warnings: bullying, swearing, mentions of mental illness/anxiety, some angst (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,298

thank you for all of the love on my last two one shots!! it means so much ty ty okay now enjoy

—

“trauma, maybe? my dad’s friend who’s a muggle doctor said that trauma can completely change a person.”

there the three boys were again, sitting at the gryffindor table in the great hall, trying to understand the girl who would always sit ways away from everyone else.

“maybe she’s just really shy!” dean quickly replied, shooting down seamus’s suggestion. seamus shrugged, and took a large gulp of his morning pumpkin juice.

“no! longbottom is “shy”, but y/n? i haven’t heard her say one single thing since second year.”

neville listened in on his friend’s conversation, only letting his eyes leave them when he went to take quick glances at the girl of the hour.

y/n was to put it into simple terms... mute. it was very difficult to hear her utter a single vowel, let along a whole statement. everyone at hogwarts knew that she was not just quiet or shy, but completely silent. people wondered how one person could go without speaking for so long. she was a bit jittery, seemingly nervous all the time. if someone shot a single look at her and she noticed, she would look away without even giving the person a chance to smile or wave.

weirdly, she had always been this way. since the first day of first year, she kept to herself, not even attempting on taking the chance of getting to know someone who might become a life long friend. it really got under people’s skin when they asked her a question, and she just simply wouldn’t respond. so, this caused for students to completely avoid her. it seemed that it was a collective agreement among the school that no one should even try speaking to her. and that was because, again, they would never get a reply.

out of these students, neville longbottom seemed to be the most intrigued. he would never forget the first time he heard her speak. it was one day in third year, of course neville was clumsily making his way down the hallway. as he did so, he didn’t notice that y/n was walking straight for him. and of course, she didn’t notice him either until they both crashed into each other’s bodies. neville fell back onto the ground, letting a small huff escape from his lips. surrounding students cackled at the two as they continued walking. when he looked up, he saw the panic in her eyes and the way she quickly reached down to get her books.

“uh—merlin... sorry about that...” he stuttered, reaching down as well to help her. she glanced at him, but quickly looked away when he noticed. of course, she stayed silent. “are you alright?”

she nodded her head, and stood up with the books in her hand. “yeah. thanks.” and with that, she rushed away from him, not even giving him a chance to say one more word.

he would never forget it. the way her voice was so soft and fragile. he had honestly wished he could hear it more.

admittedly, neville felt bad for her. every time he looked at her, something nagged at him about the girl. every time she got called out in class to answer a question, he would panic for her as her face would drop.

she looked so lonely. she would sit in the back of the class always. he had seen her in the library quite often, just reading, sitting all alone at a table. he hated that she seemed so alone.

he wanted to change that.

—

the day was quiet. only the sounds of birds outside and the wind blowing through the trees on the castle grounds. saturdays were always the perfect days for going to the library, studying, or just to read a good book. that was y/n’s plans consisted of most of the time.

y/n made her way through the large halls, waving discreetly to the paintings on the wall. it seemed as if the lively pictures were the only people that ever respected her, told her hello as she walked by.

her fingers were tightly grasped around two books, as she was planning on returning both of them. her face didn’t show it, but she was quite excited to find two more books to add to her reading list. reading had always been considered an easy escape to y/n. pages filled with so many words, but told so many different stories. stories about love, heartbreak, dragons, princesses, noble wizards, y/n enjoyed all of it.

as she daydreamed about her next book, she hadn’t noticed the small group of students exchanging glances and laughing as they saw her approaching. before she knew it, her books were being slapped out of her hand, and hit the ground with a loud noise.

she looked up finally and saw draco malfoy standing right in front of her, hands in his pockets, chuckling with all of his friends from his choice of action against her.

“you gotta be quicker than that, mute!” he teased, and y/n bent down to grab the two books. when she stood up and met eyes with him again, he shook his head at her. “can’t think of a good comeback? or are you just too scared to say anything?”

she held the books tight to her chest, trembling from malfoy’s presence.

“thought so. see you around, mute.” he spat her way, but not forgetting to bump into her figure as he walked away, his friends following behind him.

y/n sighed, and turned around to make sure they were completely gone.

she started her journey once again, making her way to her sanctuary that people called the library.

when she arrived, she returned her books to madam prince silently, and this didn’t shock the librarian whatsoever. she was used to y/n coming in, checking out countless books, and checking them out and returning them muted.

as y/n skimmed the aisles, she came to the conclusion that she would once again read one of her favorite books. she had read it about seven times, but she could never get over how beautifully written it was. it was truly the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on, and she knew she would probably read it once more after this time around.

but when she went over the familiar bookshelf, the book in question wasn’t in the place it always was. she furrowed her eyes brows, and checked the rest of the shelves near just to make sure it hadn’t been misplaced. but of course, it was no where to be found.

malfoy had provided her with a sour experience already that day, and now she couldn’t even check out her favorite book? she already knew where this day was going, and she frowned in disappointment at the thought.

y/n had settled on some other fantasy novel that seemed to acquire to her taste. she checked it out, and made her way to the back of the library. she always went where it was secluded, almost no one else but her present. but little did she know, behind all the shelves she was walking by, someone followed her.

she finally found a small table to sit down at, and she did so with relief. it always made her so nervous to think that she might have to actually sit with other people one day. but luckily, that day wasn’t today. or so she thought.

because as a few minutes went by, and her eyes were glued to the book pages in front of her, she heard a chair being pushed. she looked up, and met eyes with neville longbottom. he shot her a small smile before speaking,

“can i sit here? it’s okay if not, everywhere else just feels a bit stuffy.”

she stared at his features for a moment, thinking back to the day when she bumped into him in the hallway. she gave him a single nod, and luckily, he didn’t miss it.

as he sat down in front of her, she gulped heavily. she hated being around others, even in a peaceful place such as a library.

a few minutes went by, the silence filling in the gap between the two. neville would glance at her a few times over his book, and she seemingly seemed lost in her own world. but at some point, she finally did look away from the words on the pages. she looked at the book he was “reading”, and noticed the familiar cover. if she hadn’t caught herself, she would’ve let out an audible gasp.

he had her book.

she seemed to be staring for too long, because neville looked at her.

“have you read this before?” he suddenly asked, snapping her back into reality. “it’s actually pretty good. i’m not big on fantasy, but this isn’t too bad.”

yeah, it’s an amazing book. she knew that very well.

but of course, she didn’t express that into words for neville. she only snapped her eyes back to her book, and neville frowned a bit.

did he say something wrong? he thought for sure that this was her favorite book. i mean, he had seen her with it more times than he could keep track of, so he could only assume.

“what’s that you’re reading? is it good?”

she looked up at him through hooded eyes, still not budging.

“well, anyways... i’m more of a herbology book lover. i love learning new things about plants. i think it’s really cool...”

y/n felt herself becoming confused, and almost bothered. she knew who neville was, but couldn’t understand why he was attempting to spark a conversation with her.

“i noticed that you like to read,” he mentioned, and y/n finally looked at him fully. “i mean—i see you here a lot, and you’re always reading from what i can tell. what’s your favorite genre?”

as neville attempted to get the girl to speak, he closed his book without looking. he realized that was a mistake when the heavy book closed onto his finger, and he let out a loud yelp.

as much as y/n tried, she couldn’t hold in the small giggle that fell from her lips. she covered her mouth in an attempt to hide it, but neville’s ears caught it.

“oh, you think my suffering is funny, huh?” neville joked, smiling out of triumph. she hadn’t spoke, but she laughed. and neville swore it was the most angelic thing he had ever heard.

she shook her head at his question, her cheeks turning a dark red from embarrassment. she had hoped he was okay, but nonetheless, it was funny.

the whole time they were in the library, neville rambled on about random things. he had brought up his interests in plants, making sure not to over explain his love for them. he talked about books, and random things that had happened to him and his friends during his time at hogwarts. he was making it his number one goal to get her to talk at least once.

but as darkness began to fall, and as curfew approached quicker and quicker by the minute, he hadn’t succeeded. he was quite shy at the fact that he had just sat in the library all day rambling to someone who never even spoke back. she had seemed to be listening, which took him by surprise. he had never had someone to listen to him as he spoke, let along not interrupt him in a conversation.

as much as she hated to admit it, y/n had a good time herself. she loved the way neville talked, how he explained things so deeply and with so much detail. he never seemed to miss a beat in a conversation, even if it was practically with himself. it made her realize that she wish she had the strength to speak. she wished she could respond to his questions without feeling her stomach churning.

the two left the library, their bags draped over their shoulders as they walked. y/n still had two books clutched into her hand, as she has checked out a random herbology book before leaving. neville smiled when she did so, feeling giddy inside that he had managed to spark an interest in her.

“that book is really good! it’s all about water plants! which are really cool, by the way. you should read up on gillyweed! it’s this really cool plant that—“ when he went to ramble on once more, he stopped himself. “never mind. i think i’ve talked a bit too much, today. wouldn’t you agree?”

for some reason, y/n wanted him to keep talking. it filled the silence that she considered her serenity, and she enjoyed every last word he spoke.

“well... i think this is where we part ways. do you need me to walk you back?” he asked, secretly hoping that she would say yes. but, she shook her head no. he was greatly dissatisfied, but, he tried his best to understand.

“oh, okay. well... goodnight, y/n. maybe we can hang out in the library some other time.”

he smiled at her, not expecting a word, but only catching a glimpse at the red that rose to the tips of her ears.

neville began to walk away, feeling a bit defeated.

suddenly, something that neville never wouldn’t expected:

“goodnight.”

he stopped in his place, and turned around. she covered her mouth with her books, but neville could tell that she was smiling. he couldn’t believe that the word had left her mouth.

“goodnight, y/n.” he repeated, and she shot him a smile before walking in the other direction. a genuine smile. the first one he had ever seen besides from her giggling.

he wanted to hear that voice, and those giggles more than she could ever have guessed.

#harry potter #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville x reader #neville longbottom smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut

[headcanonsandmore]

Gentry and Gentlemen,  Chapter One

Summary:  Hermione Granger has just begun a new position of governess at Ottery Manor in the Devon Countryside, a world away from her upbringing in Regency-era London. There she meets a redheaded blacksmith man named Ron Weasley. Sparks may just fly between the middle class city woman and the working-class country man with a genuine and heartfelt charm all his own. (Jane Austen Romione AU)

Tagging: @hillnerd @nagemeikenu @acnelli @aimless-twig @femaledoubleagent @thehufflepuffpixie @adenei @abradystrix

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                   Read on FFN.                                      Read on AO3.

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The Regency period is full of stories about dashing military officers and their lovers, titled men and women, and the romantic misadventures of the landed gentry. Almost always of young ladies of the gentry and their aristocratic suitors. Of money, land, and upper class goings-on. The sort of stories that have become synonymous with high romance, retold countless times since.

This is not one of those stories.

 *

 The stagecoach trundled along the country lane. It was the middle of April, and the Devon countryside was quickly losing any vestiges of the winter. Trees were growing green, bees were pollinating all manner of plants, and the lane was fast becoming dusty due to the lack of rain.

‘Oh, really, good sir!’ giggled a lady, her aristocratic manner evident in her voice. ‘You are a delight!’

‘My pleasure, good lady,’ replied the gentleman, a large tall man with a similar way of speaking. ‘I find myself inclined to be such when in the company of such an amiable person as yourself.’

There was a loud crack, as one of the stagecoach wheels hit a hole in the lane.

‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen!’ exclaimed the coachman from above. ‘The roads have not been repaired after the winter rains!’

‘You’d think the locals would have done something about it,’ complained the gentleman to his lady friend. ‘But I suppose that is to be expected of being so far out from respectable society.’

The woman sat across from the couple stared out of the window, a slight frown briefly appearing on her face. Her fellow passengers did not notice this, and had made no attempt at conversation with her for the entire journey from Exeter. But she was somewhat glad of that.

She was a young woman, in her mid-twenties and, unlike the pair sat across from her, was not wearing the latest fashions of aristocratic society. Her dress was well-worn but functional, as befitted her position. Her hat was smart was simple but sturdy. Her face was impassive, yet strong, and her eyes - a dark brown- were piercingly intelligent. A parasol, far from new, was placed sensibly across her lap. Her shoes, polished but faded from use, were the sort worn by practical working women since time immemorial. However, in contrast to all this was her hair; an enormous bushy mane that strained against the many pins she had used to keep it in place. It was the sort of hair that you couldn’t help but notice, and it was perhaps for that reason that the young lady had chosen to keep her hat on in the coach despite the heat.  

‘Final stop; Ottery St Catchpole!’

The coach trundled to a halt, and the coachman (whose name was Mr Jones) climbed down, pulling the small set of steps out from under the coach door. The gentleman helped his lady companion down, and the two of them sauntered away with their bags without so much as a thank you to the coachman.

Sighing to himself, the coachman turned.

‘Er… my apologies, Mr Jones,’ came a voice from within the coach. ‘Could you help me down, please?’

‘Of course, miss,’ he said, before helping the young lady down to the ground. ‘Allow me to help you with your bags as well.’

‘Thank you.’

As the coachman pulled her bags out from the luggage racks, the young lady stared down the street. The gentleman and his lady friend were laughing loudly to themselves outside one of the shops.

‘They were awfully rude, weren’t they?’

‘Afraid so, Miss,’ replied Mr Jones. ‘Many from London feel that Devon might as well be on another planet.’

‘I hope you won’t judge me by their behaviour.’

‘Oh, of course not, Miss…er… my apologies, my memory isn’t what it once was…’

‘Granger.’ Hermione Granger said, giving a small curtsy. ‘And thank you for keeping me company on such a pleasant journey, Mr Jones.’

‘My pleasure, Miss Granger,’  Mr Jones said, tipping his cap. ‘I’m surprised that such a pleasant young lady like yourself is travelling all alone, truth be told.’

‘Well, you see, I’m on my way to a new place of employment.’ Hermione said. ‘Ottery Manor; perhaps you know it?’

‘Oh, yeah, Miss. Very prominent local gentry.’

‘I am due to take up the post of governess for the young children,’ Hermione elaborated.  

‘A governess, you say?’ Mr Jones said, looking very surprised.

‘Yes, I recently achieved my qualification, you see.’

‘Very impressive, Miss. Er… just a word of warning, if you please?’

‘Whatever for?’

‘Well…’ Mr Jones looked rather uncomfortable. ‘You are… that is…’

Hermione sighed. She had been expecting this.

‘Mr Jones, I am well aware that the colour of my skin is perhaps not what the locals are used to.’

‘Oh, no, miss; that’s not what I meant!’ Mr Jones replied, shaking his head quickly. ‘Good gracious, no! Plymouth isn’t that far away, and we’re used to seeing people from all over the world popping through. It’s just… the gentry round here… aren’t quite so relaxed about it as the ordinary people are.’

Hermione smiled. Mr Jones was a sweet old man who clearly wanted to warn her as best he could, even if he didn’t quite have the terminology correct.

‘Thank you, Mr Jones; you are very kind.’

‘My pleasure, miss.’

‘Could you… point me in the direction of the manor house?’

Mr Jones nodded, pointing along up the narrow winding street of Ottery St Catchpole.

‘You can’t miss it; the big house on the hill.’

‘Thank you.’

As Hermione made her way through the main street, she was aware of just how much of a different world this was to London, where she had lived most of her life. For one thing, people walked far slower and had a relaxed attitude in their comings and goings. One could certainly tell that the pace of life was slower.

Within a few minutes, Hermione had left the village, and headed along the country road up towards the manor house. The lack of rain had meant that dust was virtually inescapable, but Hermione preferred it to the mud she had been concerned about. She wouldn’t have wanted to make a first appearance with her best clothes dirtied. That would be most distressing. She, after all, was being entrusted with the care of the children of the local landed family, and ought to be presentable in a way that acknowledged that responsibility she was being granted.

Her stomach began to squirm, as her nerves became agitated. She had largely avoided thinking too much about it when she was travelling but, now that she was so close to the manor, she couldn’t help worrying. What if she wasn’t qualified for this? What if the other staff members didn’t like her? What if she-

‘NEIIIIIGHHHH!’

Hermione’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted, as a large horse rounded the corner of the lane, galloping as fast as it could, and heading right towards her. It was tall, brown, and looked startled, its eyes wide.

Hermione’s bags slipped from her hands as she stumbled backwards, but the horse was already barely seven feet away. With a cry, Hermione tripped over the uneven ground, her hat flying off her head.

The horse reared up on its hind legs, and Hermione found herself frozen on the ground. Hoofs began to fall.

‘WHOOOAAA!’

Suddenly, the horse was no longer there.

Coming to her senses, Hermione pulled herself to her feet, and collected her bags together.

A man, roughly her age, was stood with the horse a few feet away. The first thing of notice was his height, at least a foot taller than Hermione. His head was framed with short, red hair. Freckles covered every inch of skin that was on show. He was wearing a rough work shirt that was tied up to his elbows, and a pair of trousers that were slightly too short on him. A pair of tough work boots, that had clearly seen better days, completed the ensemble.

‘Sssshhhhh, Tiff….’ He soothed, stroking the horse’s neck slowly. ‘It’s okay, girl… no-one’s going to hurt you…’

‘Good grief!’

Another man had joined him.

‘Good thing you’re such a fast runner, mate!’

‘I try my best,’ replied the redheaded man. ‘Good thing we managed to catch her before she reached the village.’

As the horse was led away by the other man, the redhead turned and, spotting Hermione, ran forward.

‘Miss, are you alright?’ he exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of her. There was a splodge of dirt on his long nose. ‘Tiffany got spooked earlier, and we only just caught up with her. I’m so sorry; are you hurt?’

‘I’m… I’m fine, thank you,’ Hermione said, as a pair of bright blue eyes stared down at her. ‘Although I think my hat must have blown away in the wind.’

The redhead man looked around, and pointed up into the branches of a nearby tree.

‘You mean that one, with the nice bow?’

‘Yes, but-’

The man was up the tree in a flash, and was soon leaping down next to her again, holding her hat.

‘There we go,’ he said, handing it over. ‘Maybe a little dusty, but that’s the heatwave for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said, placing the hat on top of her bushy hair. The two of them began to walk up the lane. ‘I appreciate your concern, Mr…’

‘Weasley,’ the redhead said, smiling. ‘But there’s enough of the Weasleys around here, so you can just call me Ron. Everyone else does; it’d be confusing otherwise.’

‘I… I don’t think that would be appropriate.’ Hermione said, as she bent down to pick up her bags.

‘Why? We’re all people, aren’t we?’ Mr Weasley replied. ‘Oh, let me help you.’

‘Yes, but I’m…’ Hermione stammered, as her load was lightened considerably. ‘Well, I’m starting at the Manor as the new governess.’

‘Oh, you’re the teacher everyone’s been gossiping about!’ Ron said, cheerily. ‘Miss… Granger, if my memory’s correct?

‘W-why, yes!’ Hermione exclaimed, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed. ‘Er…gossip, you say?’

‘Yes; the scullery-maids have been talking about nothing else for the past week,’ Mr Weasley replied, keenly. ‘Well, that and the summer fete. But, yes; a posh lady governess from up-country coming down to our little neck of the woods! They’ll be delighted to meet you!’

Hermione felt her cheeks flush.

‘I’m not nearly as posh as all that, Mr Weasley,’ she said, primly. ‘So I hope I don’t ruin their expectations when they see me.’

‘Why? You sound posh to me.’

‘No… I… I mean… well, look at me.’

The redhead stared at her in confusion, and Hermione felt she needed to elaborate.

‘Surely they were expecting someone less… exotic?’

Mr Weasley blinked.

‘You are from London, aren’t you? That’s pretty exotic.’

Hermione found herself suddenly laughing. Not the usual polite laughs she had been taught as a girl, but a full, unrestrained laugh, full of accompanying snorts.

‘London… exotic?!’

Mr Weasley grinned at her, his cheeks dimpling under his freckles.

‘If you’re born and raised in Devon, it is,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘Besides, I bet that’s the first time you’ve laughed in a good long while.’

‘Why… yes, it is,’ Hermione replied, smiling. ‘However could you tell?’

‘I hear tell of the aristo’s who take the stagecoach routes down from London. I gather they aren’t much in the way of humorous conversation?’

‘You would be correct about that. But where do you hear that from? Mr Jones the coachman?’

‘Old Jonesey? Oh, yes; lovely old soul. I’m the… well, the blacksmith and the odd-job man for the estate, so I’m in and out of the village a lot.’

Hermione nodded, trying not to notice how well the redheads shirt seemed to fit him. She supposed blacksmiths were all rather… muscley.

Ottery Manor stretched out before them. It was a double-storied building, with fine windows and a pair of thick oak doors. The house was arranged around a central courtyard, so that two wings of the house stretched out in front. A small fountain marked the middle of the courtyard, and the centre of the house was covered in fine ivy. Grounds stretched out around the house in all directions, full of trees and well-trimmed lawns. Hermione could make out some distant greenhouses and vegetable gardens on the periphery.  

‘You like the ivy?’ Mr Weasley enquired, pointing at the plant as they walked up the main pathway towards the house. ‘Me and my brother Bill -he works in the gardens- pruned them just last week; rather a nice effect, eh?’

‘Yes,’ Hermione replied. ‘Are all your siblings employed as members of staff here?’

‘No.’ the redhead said. ‘Percy -he’s the intellectual one- he works in Plymouth in an office. Fred and George -they’re the youngest brothers aside from me- work in the post office a few villages over.’

‘Any sisters?’

‘Just Ginny. She’s the youngest. Mum did want her to get a good job as a scullery maid, but Ginny’s always been more outdoorsy. She works in the gardens most of the time, but she sometimes helps me and Charlie in the forge.’

‘Charlie is… the main blacksmith aside from you, then?’

Mr Weasley laughed.

‘Yes, he’s always been good with animals, so he handles the shoe-fitting. I’m a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, myself; that’s why I’m the odd job man as well.’

‘There is nothing wrong with being multi-skilled,’ Hermione said, earnestly. ‘Most men in London would love to have a wide array of talents.’

Mr Weasley laughed again, his cheeks dimpling again.

By this point, they had reached the courtyard but, instead of heading for the front door, Mr Weasley lead her around one wing of the house and into a yard of sorts. Hermione could hear horses neighing nearby, and presumed that the stables weren’t that far away.

‘You’d best come through the servants entrance,’ Mr Weasley said, leading her up the rear side of the wing and stopping before a door, which was left open. ‘Not a good idea to get on the bad side of the footmen on your first day. Especially the head footman; he’s a right killjoy about these things.’

‘Well, I am a servant, technically.’

‘I know,’ Mr Weasley said, sighing. ‘But, if I had my way, we wouldn’t have to worry about separate entrances. We’re the people who actually keep this place going, not the aristo’s using this place like a retreat for when the season ends in London.’

Hermione felt rather shocked at Mr Weasley’s words, but she opted not to say anything. She could certainly understand his frustration, but she had never met someone who was so open about it.

‘The gentry often have friends and relatives down from London, then?’

‘Yes, but you probably won’t have to worry about them,’ Mr Weasley said, encouragingly. ‘They tend to stay away from the children if they can help it. This time of year, most of them are living the high life in London society; they shouldn’t be arriving here for another couple months.’

‘Well, I lived in London most of my life, but I already rather like it here in Devon.’

The redhead turned to look at her.

‘Really? Why?’

‘Well, judging from what I’ve seen so far, it’s quieter, for one thing. The pace of life in the city is far too extreme. Out here, you can hear the birds in the trees, see the bees in the hedgerows, smell the…’

‘Muck on the fields?’

Hermione laughed.

‘You’re very amusing, Mr Weasley.’

‘I try,’ the redhead said, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. ‘Not very often I get the opportunity to make a woman laugh without making a prat of myself first.’

‘Oh, I-I’m sure all the local girls adore you.’

‘With five older brothers? I barely get a look in,’ Mr Weasley chuckled, his ears going a little pink. ‘But, thank you, miss.’

‘My… my pleasure, Mr Weasley.’

‘Mr Weasley, I trust you haven’t been frightening the new governess.’

A man had stepped out from the servants entrance. Judging by his dress, he was a footman of some description. His hair was surprisingly greasy, and he had a long, hooked nose. His voice gave an indication that he had taken elocution lessons to disguise a midlands accent.

‘Oh, no, sir!’ Hermione exclaimed, as the two of them deposited her bags near the door. ‘Mr Weasley came to my assistance when my hat blew astray on the front drive.’

Mr Weasley grinned at the footman.

‘Wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t do so, sir.’

‘Mr Weasley… you are not a gentleman, and never will be. You are a commoner, and you would do well to remember it,’ the footman said, looking unkindly up at Ron over his long hooked nose. ‘Now, Miss Granger, if you would accompany me this way…’

As Hermione followed the footman, she happened to look back over her shoulder. Mr Weasley caught her eye, and mouthed “what an oily-haired git, eh?”. Hermione bit down on her lower lip to stop herself laughing.

 *

 On reflection, Hermione was rather embarrassed that she’d been so nervous about her first meeting with her employers. The lord of the manor seemed disinterested the entire time, while his wife asked a few questions about Hermione’s teaching qualification. In fact, Hermione spent most of the meeting nodding politely while the lady discussed the difficulty in finding a good governess in the local area, and that they appreciated that Hermione had come such a long way.

She was then escorted by the head footman back to the servants entrance, all the while wondering if all lords and ladies were so… underwhelming as people.

‘Thank you, but where should I-’

But the footman had already walked away.

Hermione looked around, her nerves building again. She didn’t know her way around, and she hadn’t even been told where her lodgings would be. Maybe she should-

‘All finished?’

Mr Weasley had poked his head through the door.

‘Y-yes,’ Hermione said. ‘But… well, where should I put all my…’

‘Oh, I’ll help you,’ Mr Weasley replied, cheerfully. ‘I can’t go into the women’s quarters, but I can let the scullery maids know that you’ve arrived.’

Turning, he knocked on a door.

‘Parvati? Lavender? The new governess is here; can you help her move her things into the women’s dormitory?’

There was a loud squeal from inside the room.

Rolling his eyes, Mr Weasley opened the door, and poked his head around it.

‘Oy; are you two finished?’

A few moments later, two women appeared from behind the door. Both of them dressed in the same simple uniform, and both roughly the same age as Hermione. They also both seemed to be very giggly.

‘Hello, Miss Granger!’ said one of them, who seemed to be of Indian descent. ‘Nice to meet you; I’m Parvati, and this is Lavender.’

Lavender, a girl with blonde hair that was pulled up under her bonnet, smiled.

‘Sorry we couldn’t meet you at the gates,’ Parvati said. ‘Me and Lav got a bit… distracted.’

There was a snicker from Mr Weasley. Lavender laughed, and slapped him playfully on the arm.

‘Anyway,’ Parvati continued, and Hermione was confused as to why the girl’s face had flushed at Mr Weasley’s comment. ‘We’ll help you take your bags up to the dorm.’

‘I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble-’

‘Oh, it’s no trouble,’ Lavender said. ‘Besides, we never get to talk to anyone from London; do you know what the most recent styles are?’

‘Er…’ Hermione trailed off, as the two girls hurried along the corridor. She was about to follow, when she realised that the tall redhead was still there. She turned to face him again.

‘Thank you for all your help, Mr Weasley,’ Hermione said, giving a quick curtsy. ‘I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.’

‘As am I to make yours, Miss Granger,’ the redhead replied, his freckled cheeks dimpling once again. ‘Although, like I say, “Ron” is fine. There’s half a dozen Mr Weasleys here, so it just saves time.’

‘In that case, I will call you that,… Ron.’

The redhead grinned, before leaving to run across the wild grass nearby in the direction of the stables. The shirt Ron was wearing was, indeed, rather tight on him, and Hermione couldn’t help but notice how his muscles strained against the fabric as he ran, the sunlight reflecting beautifully off his red hair.

Hermione smiled, as she turned to follow Parvati and Lavender along the corridor. Ottery St Catchpole was shaping up to be a rather wonderful place to live.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you liked it! If you want to keep up-to-date with the series, please subscribe on AO3 or FFN, or ask me to add you to the tag list on Tumblr.

#jane austen #jane austen au #romione #ronmione #romione au #alternative universe #ron x hermione #ron/hermione #hermione x ron #hermione/ron #hermione granger #ron weasley #governess!hermione granger #blacksmith!ron weasley #background pavender

[doctorspencereid]

Under the Moon

Pairing: Suna Rintarō x reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, swearing

Word count: 2.5k

Part 1

Songs to listen to: moon n sun by juneyear, like real people do by hozier, and mr.loverman by ricky mongomery.

_______________________________________________________________________

You’d gone a month since the breakup with Suna Rintarō. It’d been a month of heart ache and late night sobs choked into the soft plush of a pillow that still smelled like him. A month of forcing back tears every time your eyes connected during practice. A month of getting used to the empty passenger seat on the ride home from school, because after giving him rides to and from school every day for two years, seeing that seat go unoccupied by him felt so abnormal. That being said, you’d expected more absence from the breakup. To feel the emptiness in your life like a void that would never be filled. That wasn’t the case.

Afterall, you were still the manager, the breakup didn’t change that. While you did your best to turn down any invitations the twins provided to group hangouts, you didn’t go out of your war to drop him all together. That would be unfair to the team, to whom you’d promised your commitment. In the month since the breakup, you’d gone through your room and collected everything that was his. Including the flannel he’d lent you so long ago and forgotten about. Every hoodie, shirt and crewneck he’d ever abandoned to your car was retrieved and washed and handed over with shaky hands. That was the only direct confrontation you’d initiated with the brown haired boy you so dearly adored. He hadn’t wanted to accept the clothing, feeling that you were closing a door he didn’t want to close. But he swallowed hard and took the bag from you. His lips parted to say something, anything. You didn’t give him a chance to though, before swivelling on your heel and darting down the hall before his choked words could reach your ears. 

Traces of him no longer lingered in your personal space and yes - this was the absolutely empty aspect that you’d been dreading. His scent wasn’t there now, there was no warm comfort that his hoodies provided anymore. You used to slip them on during the nights he’d leave you alone, pretending you had him in your arms. His shirt as your pillowcase while the moonlight illuminated your room through the slats of your blinds. Your room was finally void of the man you’d loved so intensely. Suna had gotten you accustomed to his absence in the months he’d spent neglecting your relationship. The months he’d sent you through withdrawal, you’d learned to cope with not being around him. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss him. Of course you did. Even in your relationship you had missed him. The distance between the both of you is what had doomed you to begin with. But now, you missed the availability you were still afforded when you were his girlfriend. While it was limited and often selective, it still wouldn’t have been odd for you to reach out for his hand and grasp it close back then. That option was no longer available to you. 

Yes, you chose to break up with Suna Rintarō. But you never made the choice to end things, that was a choice he made when he neglected you - whether or not he was conscious of his choice was another matter entirely. However these days, it seemed Suna was all too conscious of that choice. Of every choice he made in your relationship.You’d called him a ghost, he remembered, and he was indeed haunted by the mistakes he made. At night, sleep never came to lull him away; instead he was consumed by thoughts, memories, the look on your face when you’d told him it was over. The tears brimming in your tired eyes. The way you’d told him you still loved him, and the way that it wasn’t enough. Because he’d drained you and left you dry. 

Yes, Suna was aware of every mistake he’d made. Only now it seemed too late. He knew now that the comfort he’d always found in you was immense. Part of it was because you were always there. Always available and willing.Your love was constant and unwavering. And he was always there to gluttonously accept. He’d grown comfortable in your attentive behavior, figuring it was okay if he didn’t reach out. If he didn’t twine your fingers together. If he slacked off a bit. Because you’d still love him. You’d still be there, waiting like you always were. You’d be there, familiar and warm and eager to pull him into your grasp and warm his cold hands no matter how far he strayed. Until you weren’t. He’d let you slip so far, let the rope that tethered you fray and snap. Now he had lost you. 

You didn’t block him. Of that much he knew. When he called you, it would ring and he could hear your voicemail. He listened everytime, though whether or not he left a message depended on the day. Sometimes he couldn’t muster the right words, sometimes his hope wavered and he figured you wouldn’t listen even if he did leave a message. He was right, you wouldn’t. You didn’t block him, no, but you didn’t answer his calls either. You used to have your read receipts on. If you still did, he couldn't tell - either you didn’t, or you did and you just weren’t reading his texts.

It was funny almost, how he was reaching out now that he had lost you, more than he ever had in any of the years he’d known you. Now that you were gone he missed you more than anything. Not that he didn’t see you. He did. He saw you every day at practice. Every day, he tried to make you look at him. You only ever looked at him by accident, and every time the pain that flashed in your eyes took him back to the day you ended things. Fuck, has it only been a month? He’d tried to go up and talk to you the first two weeks, but the twins had stopped him every time. They’d always stepped into his path, blocking his way to you. Never physically aggressive, but more passively distraught. Their identical faces held stern expressions and for once they actually united on an issue. 

“Suna, ya need to let her go,” Atsumu had told him.

Osamu had agreed, chiming in with,“She needs to heal, and if ya go over and reopen the wound, that’ll never happen.”

His jaw had clenched. Fuck, he couldn’t let go. Not if he could fix this. You said you’d loved him. You love him. He could fix this. He could be your Rin again. He wanted to be. His amber eyes pleaded with the twins, begging them to let him pass. They didn’t budge. 

So his access to you during practice was effectively shut down. You were his manager and nothing more. You only talked to him when necessary. You handed out water bottles and towels, you paid attention to their matches. And then you’d drive away in your car without him. Fuck, he even missed your car. It’d been your father’s once, but it was yours now and you’d affectionately named it something he’d found both horrendous and hilarious at once. What he wouldn’t give to drive with you in that car late at night, a playlist he’d curated for you lilting through the speakers.

Instead, here he was, a month later and he was driving his mom’s car through the streets of Hyogo. It wasn’t too late. Only around seven. You’d be home by now. He probably should be too. But it was a Friday, so he wasn’t all too concerned. The car was silent, which he’d usually detested, but he couldn’t drive and listen to music without thinking of your quiet hums harmonizing with his favorite songs. The moon was rising into the sky, beaming down pale light on the houses he passed. He hadn’t realized he’d driven down your street. He’d never driven here before. Suna gnawed at his lip anxiously, seeing your car tucked nearly beside your parent’s cars in the drive way. Fuck. I should go, he thought. 

No. Fuck that. He’d spent too much time letting you go, it was time to put the fucking work in. Suna parked beside the curb. He still had the bag of clothes you returned to him. He’d never taken them back into his room. Suna slipped on a sage green hoodie and walked up to your front door, hesitantly standing there for a moment. It took him a moment before he could muster the courage for three sharp knocks against your door. 

He didn’t know what he was hoping for or what he’d say. Shit - what if your parents opened the door? Did they know he fucked up? Would they hate him? What if they slammed the door in hi- Oh. You stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide. He had a feeling he was mirroring your expression. 

“Suna?” Fuck. That still hurt. His heart ached in his chest, like a wave of sharp bitterness overwhelming his heart and lungs. He swallowed dryly, unable to figure out what he wanted to say. Until finally, something tumbled out of the empty basket that was his lovestruck brain. 

“Do you want to go on a drive with me?” he asked wryly, eyebrows flitting together in distress. A surprised scoff escaped your lips, and then your expression scrunched a bit and he knew what you would say so he rushed to get his next words out before you could say no. “Please. I need to talk to you.”

You took a moment to chew your lips, thinking and staring at him as if you weren’t sure. Then at last, your resolve crumbled. “Fine. Let me get my keys-”

“No need,” he said quickly, showing off the keys dangling from his pointer finger. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You drove here? Since when do you drive?” Your voice was still reserved, though you sounded both equal parts impressed, dubious and incredulous. He smiled tightly, it was all he could give at that time. 

“I could always drive you know, I just.. I was used to you always driving.” A silence fell between you then. You pressed your lips together, nodding simply. He figured he might as well walk you to the car. It was odd, him in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s. But he supposed change was necessary if he had any hope of somehow garnering your love again. No - not garnering it, he had it - what he hoped for was you. It was only when you clicked your seatbelt did he play his music - a playlist he’d made for you. Part of him hoped it would feel like old times, and that maybe you’d find yourself slipping into old habits again, but the smarter part of him knew that it wasn’t that easy. 

Once he’d turned away from your street you finally spoke. 

“So…” you started, peering up at the moon through the window, “You said you wanted to talk?” 

He nodded, “I.. yeah.” A sigh. A beat. A sharp breath. “I’m sorry.” When you didn’t say anything, he took at his nod to continue. “I’m so, so fucking sorry, Y/N. You deserved better than what I offered you. I got so used to you always being there for me, I got lazy. I let myself neglect you, I let you slip away. I let you fade away and fuck, I didn’t even notice.” 

You were definitely looking at him now, and tears were slipping down your face. He pulled over, incidentally outside the same apartment complex where he’d realized how much you liked him. Shaky breaths hurried past your lips and he wanted nothing more than to reach over and sooth them until they steadied out, to wipe your tears and tuck you into his arms. But despite being only a few feet away, there was still so much distance he needed to cover and reclaim if he wanted to do that. “I miss you. So fucking much. I can’t fucking sleep and shit, this isn’t about me - this.. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” 

Tears were slipping down his own cheeks now. He was facing you, and while you were terrified of the way your heart was slamming against your chest, you also couldn’t force yourself to move. “I know how badly I fucked up, how much I don’t fucking deserve you. But please. Give me one more chance. To make up for what I did and give you the love you deserve.” 

You stared at him, hearing him say the words you’d wanted to hear from him for months. His amber eyes were glossy with tears, and the withdrawn volleyball player was bared and vulnerable before you, pliable to the touch. 

“Rintarō..” you said finally, the traces of pain in your words so sharp and clear, “You hurt me so fucking badly.”

He nodded, looking down. His tears spilled in thick drops against his jeans. Fuck. 

“I love you so much, loved you so much, it hurt. I felt ignored and forgotten, it felt like you didn’t want to see me half the time. I.. I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if it’s worth it.. I can’t go through that pain again.” 

He couldn’t let you slip away again. He couldn’t. He wouldn't. Every fibre that made up his being refused to let you go. His brown hair fell across his vision as he shook his head vigorously. “I won’t let you go through it again, I promise. I’ll be so much better - for you. I’ll make more time for you, I’ll drive us wherever you want to go, fuck I’d go anywhere for you. Please. Give me this one chance to show that I can be better for you.” 

Suna shifted forward, his cold fingers moving to cup your cheek, smooth against the dampness of your face. He could feel the heat surging beneath his touch, you still reacted to him at least. Your breath shallowed out, thoughts racing through your mind. You nuzzled into his touch gently, still unsure. “I want to believe you,” you admitted. His forehead wrinkled in distressed earnest. 

“I want to be someone worthy of your trust, I want you to be able to believe that I’ll be there for you.” He told you, his words unwavering now. His amber eyes connecting with yours for an intense moment. “I’ll be a person you can rely on, if you’ll have me.” 

Your hand moved reflexively, ignoring your better judgement and tangling with the silky strands at the nape of his neck and tugging him forward. The shift connecting your mouth to the soft press of his lips. Part of your chest panged with the way it missed the familiarity of him, the shape of him, the taste of him. You’d missed him so much. The kiss was brief, and when you’d parted, it was with a single word carried on a breath. 

“Rin,” You breathed out. He grinned like an idiot, a hopeful idiot. Your eyes connected with his once more, wide and open - vulnerable. “Last chance. Don’t fuck it up.” 

“I don’t intend to.” 

#Suna #suna x reader #haikyuu suna #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #Suna fluff #angst to fluff #suna rintaro #suna x yn #exes to lovers

[bluejayblueskies]

the before, the after, the in-between

Chapter One: white daisies Words: 2.9k

Relationships: Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin Tags: Post-Canon, Scottish Safehouse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mute Jon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies

Summary:

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise from beside him and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

.

Jon wakes up in the safehouse in October of 2018, alive and well but without the Eye and without his voice. In the days that follow, he finds himself confronted with a world that has reset itself in space and in time, a version of himself that is no longer the Archivist, and the fact that death during the end of the world had not been so permanent as it had seemed.

Read on Ao3 (link in source)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five| Chapter Six| Chapter Seven

Or read below:

(cw for mentions of knife violence, mild blood)

There are white daisies on the kitchen table.

They’re what Jon saw first when he opened his eyes, awake and gasping for air, sprawled on his back on the floor and staring up at a brown ceiling and a brown kitchen chair and the bottom of a brown table and, amidst it all, a splash of white that caught his eye. He stared at the flowers, a memory tickling at the back of his mind—Martin cutting the flowers from a patch just outside the cottage, tucking them into a vase on the center of the table, Jon running a finger along the waxy petals and whispering, Daisies for Daisy—and then, with a rush, the rest of the memories came flooding back and he sat up so quickly his head spun, his hand going almost instinctively to his chest where the knife was—

But there wasn’t a knife. He was in the safehouse and there were fresh-cut daisies in a vase on the table and there was no knife. There was, however, when he pulled his jumper up to look, a scar—thick and raised, like it had been there for years.

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, the door flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

There are still white daisies on the kitchen table less than two days later, when Jon has fallen apart and picked himself back up again and fallen apart and picked himself back up again, more times than he cares to count. He sits in the hard wooden chair, legs crossed and elbows resting atop the varnished wood, and stares at the flowers, still as vibrant as the day they were picked nearly… six months ago? He wishes he knew how long it’s been, but he can’t. He can’t Know, and the Eye is gone, and he can’t speak, and his tears are soundless as he buries his face in Martin’s chest and grapples with the fact that for the first time in years, he’s never felt quite so human.

Martin thinks they’ve gone back in time. Jon thinks that time has caught up to them. Like the world, stitched back together and made anew, has simply picked up where it left off, unaware of how deeply scarred its inhabitants have become. Though Jon really doesn’t think it matters much at all.

It’s not the first argument they have. And it certainly will not be the last.

For now, though, Jon stares at the daisies, one hand tap tap tapping the cheap ballpoint pen on the moleskine notebook Martin had given him and the other wandering down to his left calf, where bite marks as wide as dominoes sit in even rows across his skin, scarred up before they’d even reached the next domain.

He rubs a thumb over one of the raised scars—the second set that had been left on his body by the same hands, both born from violence yet so distinct and different in Jon’s mind—and thinks, with a twinge of something deeply longing, I miss Daisy.

He’d missed her in intervals after he’d collected the bite mark scars on his calf. There had been so much to think about, so much to focus on, but in the quieter moments, he would think about the fact that she was gone—really, truly gone, in a way he couldn’t explain away like he could their first time in the safehouse—and feel the loss as acutely as a knife in his side. (Though now that he has experience with that specific brand of pain, he knows that the feelings aren’t quite the same. A knife is sharp and cutting, radiating pain. That ache was deeper, and it settled next to his bones, preparing to make itself at home within him forever.) Now, there is sunlight streaming in through the lattice windows and Jon closes his eyes when he sleeps and fear is as dull as a butter knife, and there is no limit to the moments of quiet. He looks at the white daisies, and he aches.

“Jon?” Martin says quietly, and Jon startles, still unused to not Knowing when somebody is near to him before they announce themselves. “Is… is everything all right?”

Jon nods reflexively, then bites his lip and slowly shakes his head. He looks down at the table for a moment before flipping open the moleskine, uncapping the pen, and scratching words neatly on the next available line despite the way his hand shakes ever so slightly as he writes. I miss Daisy.

He holds up the notebook, and Martin steps closer until he can make out the cramped words on the page. His forehead furrows like he hadn’t been expecting it, but after a moment, he says softly, “Me too.”

Jon gives him a flat, disbelieving look, and Martin sighs. “Okay, maybe I don’t. At least, not- not like you do. But I… I know you cared about her, Jon. I know she was there for you when I- I wasn’t, and I… I wanted to meet the version of Daisy that you pulled out of that coffin. Really meet her, I mean, without all of the loneliness and fog and- and end-of-the-world drama.” A corner of Martin’s mouth turns up into a sort of unhappy smile. “I guess I miss what could have been, then.” Quieter: “I’m sorry. I know that she… she meant a lot to you.”

Jon nods once, folding his hands together on his lap and worrying them together. He opens his mouth, then closes it with a frustrated sigh and reaches back for the notebook. Hastily, he scrawls, I think she would have liked you. Then: I wish you could have met her too. Then, hesitantly: I told her about you. I talked about you a lot. She never understood why I left you alone with Lukas, but she respected my decision to do so.

He holds it up, and Martin’s eyes scan the page quickly. Jon can see the moment Martin reads the last line, the way his jaw tenses and his throat bobs as he swallows. “Only nice things, I hope,” he says after a moment with a bit of forced cheeriness.

Jon exhales loudly through his nose—a breathy laugh, the only kind he can manage anymore—and shrugs.

Martin’s lips twitch into a smile, but it quickly folds under the pressure of the troubled look upon the rest of his face. “I’m glad that you had her,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry you lost her.”

She had me as well, Jon scratches, holding it up for Martin to see. Then, his train of thought continues and he holds up a finger, pulling the moleskine back down to the table and inking a few more lines onto the page. It was hard to be human, but we helped each other. I wish I could have helped her during the apocalypse, and I wish I could help her now. It hurts to know that she could have had this, truly separated from the Hunt, but that she wasn’t given the chance.

He holds it up, trying to keep his hands steady as he gives Martin time to read through it. Then, Martin takes the moleskine from him and sets it carefully on the table before folding Jon’s hand in his and squeezing gently. He rubs his thumbs across the back of Jon’s knuckles as he says, “I know, love. I know.” He lifts Jon’s hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to it. His lips brush against the back of Jon’s hand as he says, “Would you… would you like to do something for her? A memorial, or- or something to remember her with? I know there wasn’t much of a chance to do so back when—back before, and it… it might help.”

Jon looks down at his lap, considering. He knows that Daisy is gone; he doesn’t know if this would make the ache in his chest lessen or grow tighter, and to do nothing and stay the same feels like the safer of the two options. Then, he catches a glimpse of white out of the corner of his eye—the daisies, sitting on the table, vibrant and alive and glowing slightly in the bright sunlight—and, eyes still locked on those waxy petals, he nods.

“Okay,” Martin says quietly. “All right.”

.

.

.

They stand atop one of the grassy hills close to the cottage, a thick scarf wrapped several times around Jon’s neck to keep away the cold and his mittened hands holding the bouquet of cut daisies, their petals fluttering and stems bowing in the wind. The moleskine is tucked away in his coat, but he hasn’t used it since they arrived out here. Martin’s arm is tucked around Jon, hand resting on his opposite hip as he pulls Jon close to his side, and they’re both silent as they stare out over the grassy knolls, peppered with orange and white cows and brown pickets with wire strung between them.

Jon takes a daisy from the bouquet, holding it carefully in his hand lest it blow away too early, and watches it wave back and forth in the wind, flimsier without the support of the rest of the flowers. He remembers calling Daisy’s name with dirt clustering at the corners of his mouth and filling his nostrils, feeling terror grip him as the soil around him began to shift and move, rivulets of water trickling into his eyes and stinging as he tried to blink them away. He recalls the relief, all-consuming and so potent he thought he would choke on it (if he hadn’t already been choking on dirt, so much dirt, soil and clay and sand and gravel all mixed as one), when she had called his name in return. He takes a deep breath in, lets it out, and releases the flower, watching it catch in the wind and be carried away, down the hill and out of sight.

He pulls another flower out of the bouquet and thinks of the way Daisy’s hand felt in his when he finally made contact, fingers calloused and rough and fingernails ragged and caked with dirt. Her grip was so weak, muscles unused to the trial of being made to grasp and cradle and hold, but she held on as the dirt pressed down on them and they struggled to breathe and, still, with their lungs compressed and weary, they used them to form words. He thinks about not alone, though, not alone, and lets the flower go, watching it tumble away on the breeze.

He pulls another flower and thinks of when Daisy said that she’d planned to kill him, and how he wasn’t even able to muster up the energy to care.

The petals on the next flower are wet. For a moment, Jon thinks that it’s started raining and he just hadn’t noticed. Then, he feels Martin’s hand brush against his cheek, wiping away the next few tears with his thumb, and his next breath rattles in his chest.

He remembers being with Daisy in his office, him sitting in the chair behind his desk and her standing in the corner, trying to remember what it felt like to be vertical. He remembers sitting across from her at a sticky pub table, his hands wrapped around an equally as sticky mug of beer as she pulled a surprising amount of laughter out of his mouth. (He suspected that the warmth running through him by the end of the night was only partially due to the flush of alcohol in his system.) He remembers sitting on a now-ratty cot in document storage, one earbud in his ear and the other in Daisy’s as they leaned against the wall, thighs pressed lightly together and hands clasped in a way that felt easy, his nose wrinkling as The Archers played tinnily through the earbuds. He remembers being slumped against the brick wall behind the Institute, cigarette held between two shaking fingers as he tried to pretend like the nicotine would satisfy the burning hunger growing within him, and the shoulder that had pressed firmly against his as Daisy had slid down to sit next to him, a similar sort of hunger clawing relentlessly within her as well. He remembers standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom in the Archives, staring at his own eyes and wondering if they looked just a bit greener today, just a bit less human, and finally walking back out to see Daisy leaning on the wall next to the door, her voice leaving no room for argument as she said that she’d bought a bottle of whiskey and they were going to share it between them. He remembers lying on one of the cots and staring at the darkened ceiling, hearing her breathing deep and even beside him, one thin arm slung over his chest, and thinking about how much stronger than him she was, that she would rather die than be who she was before. (She never thought he was a monster. He hadn’t quite believed it, but he had been grateful for it all the same.) And he remembers what it felt like, slipping into the tunnels beneath the Institute and leaving Daisy and Basira behind to deal with the chaos that lay above ground, unable to shake the horrible, sickening feeling that it was the last time he would ever see Daisy.

Their last night together had been spent listening to the historical podcast that Jon had managed to convince Daisy to try. He thinks she only put up with it as long as she did because she spent much less time listening to the hosts and much more time listening to him talk over them, supplementing their research with his own and going off on long, rambling tangents that more often than not ended up a few subjects away from history. She never minded when he rambled, and he never felt that choking, itching feeling at the back of his throat that caused the words to die halfway through a sentence that he so often got when he felt that he was boring those around him.

They hadn’t even gotten to finish the episode they were on.

Jon remembers it all, and he lets the flowers go one by one, watching them tumble away down the hill until his hands are empty, hanging uselessly in the air for a moment before he drops them limply to his sides. He knows he’s crying in earnest by now, and he hates it. It’s a terribly vulnerable feeling, to be mourning out in the open, and he hates it. His breath hitches in his throat—he would choke his words if he could form them—and he hates it.

He hates it, but he doesn’t stop Martin when he wraps his other arm around Jon and pulls him gently into his chest, whispering soft platitudes into Jon’s hair as Jon buries his face in Martin’s scarf to hide his tears. Martin’s hands rub circles across Jon’s back and his lips press against the crown of Jon’s head and he whispers, “It’s all right, love. It’s all right,” and Jon allows himself one abrupt, hiccuping sob before he pushes all remaining sounds deep within him where they cannot escape.

And down below, near the base of the hill, the daisies lie scattered amongst the grass and the bushes and the weeds, like the first flakes of winter snow.

.

.

.

There are daisies on the kitchen table again. These ones are yellow, collected from the garden in the back before the frost has a chance to set in and wither them. Sunlight makes dappled patterns across them as Jon sits at the table and drinks tea for the third morning since he found himself able to do so once again, made with no milk and two sugars just as he likes. He can hear the gentle rumble of water from the bathroom, his own hair already shower-damp and pulled back into a loose braid. The jumper is Martin’s, too large and draped over his hands where they wrap around his mug, and the kitchen smells of tea and daisies and home. If Jon closes his eyes and shuts off his mind and focuses only on the seep of heat into his palms and the brush of fabric against his arms, he can almost pretend like everything between before and now had been a dream.

Almost.

Jon takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and takes a long sip of his tea. He’s halfway back to setting the mug on the kitchen table when there’s a creak, a rattle, and a burst of cold air as the front door of the cottage swings open.

The mug slips out of Jon’s hands and knocks sideways on the table, spilling tea across the varnished surface and rolling dangerously close to the edge before its handle strikes the table and brings it to a halt. He distantly registers that his jumper sleeves are stained with tea and that the puddle is seeping towards him, preparing to drip off the edge, but the thought is buried beneath an icy wave of shock as he stares, wide-eyed, at the open doorway. At the figure standing within it.

Daisy stares back, eyes wide with surprise, face streaked with mud and blood, one hand still on the door handle, and says, “Jon?”

#tma #the magnus archives #jaisy-week #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #ehe here we go! jay's second iteration of a post canon fic #otherwise known as 'the miraculous ladybug au' ajdhjlgak #before tag

[dakotacrisis]

Adrien’s Sick Day

(This dumb idea would not let me sleep. Adrien gets sick but refuses to miss school so chugs a bottle of Nyquil but starts crashing when he gets to school. Shoots back an energy drink to keep awake. Disassociates so hard he comes to with a new fencing trophy and a girlfriend.)

---

Adrien was sick. He never got sick easy but he was sicker than a dog today. His temperature was through the roof and the only medicine in the house was a bottle of Nyquil.

“Sounds like an easy day in.” Plagg said. “Chug it down and let’s get back to bed.”

Adrien shook his head. “I wanna go to school.”

“School?” Plagg rested on top of his head, “Kid, do you really want to attempt class today?”

“I have already missed normal human interaction for the first fifteen years of my life. I am not missing another day!” Adrien chugged down the Nyquil. “Let’s go!”

Despite Plagg’s protests to stay inside Adrien collected his bag and headed to school. He was doing well up until he stepped inside and the medicine really started kicking in. Right...the medicine wasn’t the non-drowsy kind.

“Hey dude,” Nino clapped him on the back to which Adrien almost fell face first into floor. “Dang, what’s wrong with you?”

“Fever. Medicine. Sleepy. Not missing class.” Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Got any coffee?”

“I have this.” Nino pulled out an energy drink from his bag. “You can have it if you really want it but I think you should just go home.”

“No, I’m fine. Hand it over.” Adrien took the drink and walked with Nino into class.

In the blink of an eye Adrien was no longer in class but back home in his room holding a half empty cup of boba. “What the...” Adrien looked around. “How did I...”

The sun was further down in the sky so it must be later. Oh god, where did he put his phone? On his desk was a new fencing trophy he didn’t remember earning. Hanging off the trophy’s miniature epee was the lucky charm Marinette had lent him.

This was strange. He checked the clock on his computer and was surprised to see that it was five in the evening. What had happened all day? He couldn’t remember a thing.

The sound of his phone ringing with a notification caught his attention. He rummaged around in his bag and pulled it out. The background on his phone had changed too. Instead of the picture of him and Nino it was him in his fencing uniform holding a trophy in one hand and his other arm wrapped around Marinette who was kissing his cheek.

Okay. What the heck happened today?

He went to his contacts and hit Nino’s number. Hopefully he could shed some light on this situation.

“Hey bro, what’s up?” Nino shouted over the roar of a crowd in the background, “You change your mind and want to come out to the party?”

“Party?” Adrien asked. “What party?”

“Well I guess it is turning more into a festival. I know Marinette said you should go home and rest but you sound a lot better. We’re currently out under the Eiffel Tower if you wanna stop by.”

“What festival? What’s going on?” Adrien couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying. He was fairly certain there wasn’t any parties or holidays today.

“Sorry dude, I can’t hear you.” Nino shouted over the noise, “Eiffel Tower! Come out! Have some fun!”

He hung up and Adrien was back at square one but with even more questions. Maybe there were some clues in his phone. He checked his pictures and saw that there were more pictures he had taken today. The picture he had set as his background was there. There was a group shot with the guys who held Adrien up on their shoulders. Those were taken around four.

Adrien checked his calendar and saw that he did have a fencing tournament today at three. So that’s where he must have been for that hour. And he ended up placing first while zonked out on cold medicine. Adrien wasn’t sure what to make of that. Either his opponents weren’t that great or he is just an amazing fencer when he’s blacked out. Neither sat right with him.

That’s still leaves the seven hours from school and the hour between when he won the tournament and when he got home. Wait! Plagg! Plagg was by his side the entire time! He’d know!

“Plagg!” Adrien called, “Plagg! Where are you?”

“Ugh, you said I could relax.” Plagg’s voice came from the cheese cabinet. Adrien opened it and saw Plagg nesting atop a large wheel of camembert. “Haven’t we done enough today?”

“Plagg, I don’t remember what happened today. You have to fill me in.”

“Seriously?” PLagg laughed, “You don’t remember a thing?”

“No! And it’s creeping me out!” Adrien pulled him out of the cabinet. “Please tell me what I did.”

“Well I don’t really know.”

“How do you not know? You hide in my bag all day!”

“I sleep in your bag all day. I only woke up for the akuma.”

“Akuma? When was there an akuma?”

“A bunch of akumas. We had another Scarlet Akuma pandemic going on before you ran off to go fencing. You and Ladybug were really struggling for a while there until your doppelgangers showed up. Something happened after the akumas got purified but I was tired and bored at that point and stopped paying attention.”

“No! Plagg, I need to know what happened! And what do you mean by doppelgangers?”

“Oh right, bunny girl brought future you and Ladybug back in time to help with the akumas.”

“My future self! Future Ladybug?!” Adrien was going to throw himself off a building. He had completely missed meeting his future self and seeing what Ladybug looked like grown up. She could have only gotten more beautiful.

“Yeah, it was trippy.” Plagg said. “That’s all I remember though. After you transformed back you had to go to fencing and I stayed in your locker resting.”

“So you don’t know anything else? Not even about this?” Adrien showed him the picture of Marinette kissing him.

“Awe, finally got that girlfriend of yours I see. But no. No idea.”

“You’re awfully helpful.” Adrien sighed. He needed answers. He wasn’t gonna be able to focus until he filled in the blanks from today. He got online and started combing through the footage from the akuma attack. Plagg wasn’t kidding. This was the most akumas Adrien had ever seen. It looked as if half of Paris had been infected.

Him, Ladybug, and some of the other heroes were fighting against them but losing ground fast. A shining portal opened up and...holy crap. It really was his future self walking alongside a grown up Ladybug. Bunnix also joined them. The footage sped by as the heroes, future and present fought side by side. Adrien had always thought that he and Ladybug were a well oiled machine but seeing their future counterparts fight made them look like fish flopping on a deck. It was as if they were thinking about each other’s moves five steps ahead.

There was an eruption of white butterflies as the akumas were purified. The people cheered. Future Chat grabbed Future Ladybug and spun her in the air in victory. And then...oh…present Ladybug grabbed present Chat and kissed him. Seriously?! Another kiss he couldn’t remember!

“PLAGG!” Adrien shouted, “YOU SAID NOTHING ELSE HAPPENED!”

“Nothing did!” Plagg shouted back.

“LADYBUG KISSED ME! THAT’S NOT NOTHING TO ME!”

“How is this any different then the other times she kissed you and you forgot?”

“Y’know what--!”

“Can’t hear you. Napping.” Plagg started snoring loudly.

Adrien sighed. He turned his attention back to the screen.

There was only more cheering as the two kissed. Wait. So he kissed Ladybug and Ladybug kissed him back and they both remember so why had Marinette been kissing him in his fencing picture? Once again, more questions.

The future miraculous holders went back through the portal. His present self and Ladybug waved to the crowd then vaulted out of frame. According to the akuma report online that was from 12:40 to 2:55. Another two hours accounted for. Yet it was the minutes in between that seemed to hold all the answers.

Adrien grabbed his school bag and dumped it out looking for more answers. There had to be something else. All of it looked pretty normal. Books, homework assignments, a couple empty containers of camembert, and a few loose papers. He picked up one and saw it was an excerpt of a script. A Midsummer Night’s Dream? What was this doing in his bag? They were supposed to start their Shakespeare period in literature class so it wasn’t so out of place.

The assignment was to recreate a scene from one of Shakespeare’s plays. At the top of the page was Adrien’s name as well as Marinette’s. He guessed they must have gotten partnered up. Maybe he should try calling her to figure out what was going on.

He picked up his phone and searched for Marinette’s contact, her name in his phone had been changed to Girlfriend with a bunch of sparkly hearts around it. So apparently she was his girlfriend now, according to his phone at least. He called her but the call went to voicemail. Okay, maybe Alya knows. He called her next and was relieved when she answered.

“Hey lover boy!” Alya was shouting over the same crowd as Nino had been, “Nino said you called. Feeling better already?”

“Alya, you have to tell me what I did today.”

“What?”

“What did I do while I was at school? I can’t remember.”

“How do you not remember?”

“I was zonked out on cold medicine! I don’t even know how I got home let alone how I won a fencing trophy and got a girlfriend in the past few hours.”

“Wow. Just...wow. I knew you were kinda loopy today but I figured you’d remember confessing to Marinette. Girl was over the moon.”

The memories tickled right in the back of Adrien’s brain but he just couldn’t get to them. They had been washed away in a tidal wave of medicine and energy drink. He needed answers. He needed to talk to Marinette. “Are you all still by the Eiffel Tower?” Adrien asked.

“Yeah, you coming out?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a few.” Adrien hung up and grabbed his coat. He felt much better physically than he had that morning which was nice. The walk to the Eiffel Tower gave him plenty of time to think about what it was he was missing. There was a significant piece of the puzzle missing, the one piece that would make the rest of the day make sense. If only he could figure out what it was!

He found his friends and everyone cheered when they saw him and pulled him into their circle. Standing with Alya was Marinette. Face alight with a smile and laughing. She turned when she felt Adrien’s eyes on her and her smile grew.

“Hey, I thought I told you to go home and rest. Or was it that you didn’t want to miss out on all the fun?” She grabbed his hands, “I suppose I’ll let it go this time seeing as how today was very taxing and we could do with some fun after that Scarlet Moth fiasco.”

“Yeah, about that,” Adrien said, “Can we talk somewhere a little quieter?”

“Sure,” She pulled on his hands as she led him away from the group. Their classmates whistled and teased as the couple left. When they were far enough away from the noise and people Marinette spoke to him, “What is it you want to talk about?”

“Right um…” Adrien felt heat climbing up his neck, “So I was kinda really sick this morning and I took a bunch of drowsy cold-medicine that I tried to counteract with an energy drink and now I don’t remember anything that happened today. Nothing whatsoever.”

Marinette stared at him, her wide, unblinking baby blue eyes piercing through his skull. “Are you joking?”

“No. I swear I am not. I’ve put together some of what happened but there are some things that I don’t understand like how um, you know, how you and I…” He looked down at his feet, mortified that he had to have this conversation with her. He felt like he was breaking her heart or something.

“You dumb kitty.” Marinette bonked the top of his head, “That explains a lot actually. I’ve always known you to be kinda spacey but today was something else. How is it that when you’re out of it you can still function as a human being?”

“Marinette?” Adrien looked up at her, “What did you call me?”

Marinette sighed and motioned for him to sit down on the bench. “Alright, so this morning when class started…”

*Earlier that day*

“Did that help at all?” Nino asked Adrien as they sat down for class.

“I guess we’ll see,” Adrien almost missed his seat when he went to sit down, “So far it is a rousing success!”

“I really think you should just go home, dude.” Nino shook his head. “I think the caffeine just made this worse.”

“Nah!” Adrien corrected himself and slid himself into his seat, “I am fine! Look how fine I am! I am super fine!”

“Sure are.” Nino snickered, he couldn’t help it. His best friend was essentially high as a kite right now.

Everyone took their seats as Ms. Bustier began the lesson. “For this unit we will be focusing on William Shakespeare. I figured we’d start off with something fun so I want everyone to get into pairs or small groups and perform a scene from any Shakespeare play you would like. Group up and figure out what you’re performing in class today. Go over your lines and we’ll do the actual performances tomorrow. Try not to do really long ones. Have fun!”

Immediately everyone around the room started pairing off. “Hey Adrien,” Alya grabbed his attention, “How’s about you and Marinette team up? You would make a wonderful Romeo and Juliet.”

“But I wanted us to do Romeo and Juliet, babe.” Nino pouted.

“That’s fine, Alya. You two can have Romeo and Juliet.” Marinette told her, her face tinted a cute pink. “Adrien and I can do something else.”

“Hernia!” Adrien shouted, “You can be Hernia and I’ll be Lightsaber!”

“What?” The other three teenagers stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, that play, the one with the donkey head?” Adrien mimicked large donkey ears on his head.

“Oh! I got it!” Marinette said, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You want us to be Hermia and Lysander.”

“Yeah! Those two!” Adrien nodded, “Hernia and Lightsaber.”

“Adrien, sweetie,” Alya looked at him with an amused smile, “Their names are Hermia and Lysander. Not Hernia and Lightsaber.”

“Got it. Got it.” Adrien continued nodding so hard he looked like a bobblehead. “We can be them.”

“Alright, I’ll find us a scene to do.” Marinette started looking for a good scene. They eventually agreed to do the opening scene when Hermia and Lysander plan to runaway together. Marinette was being super giggly through the reading which made Adrien start laughing which made her giggle more until they were in a perpetual loop of laughter.

When class ended everyone got up to move onto the next class. Nino and Alya went on ahead leaving Marinette and Adrien alone still chuckling over their inability to be serious during their scene.

“It may be the fact that I was laughing through the whole thing but I have to confess that I have no idea what Lysander was saying.” Adrien squinted at the text before shoving it in his bag. “Did you?”

“It’s pretty simple actually,” Marinette said, “The couple are lamenting that none of Hermia’s choices that she was given from Theseus let her be with Lysander. Lysander though figures that they don’t have to follow their rules and talks Hermia into leaving Athens with him and getting married where the Athenian laws don’t apply.”

“I wish I could do that.” Adrien sighed.

“Do what?”

“Runaway with the love of my life. I have this whole plan with an island and a hamster but I know you’d never go with me.” He slumped, looking utterly defeated. “Why don’t you wanna go with me?”

“Love--love--love--love of your what? Runaway? Me and you? To an island? With hamsters!” Marinette was stammering as she tried to piece together what it was Adrien had just confessed to her. Was this really happening?

“Oh wait,” Adrien frowned, “I meant my lady.”

“Huh?”

“Ladybug is so pretty…” Adrien murmured dreamily, “She’s so awesome but she only sees me as a tomcat which--just--boo! I love her! Why doesn’t she see that?  My spotty lady! Buggy boo! I love her spots and her eyes and her pigtails…”

His green eyes turned to Marinette and batted a hand against Marinette’s hair. “Just like your pigtails.” He muttered, “You remind me a lot of Ladybug. You can be my Maribug!”

Tomcat? In love with Ladybug? No...there was no way. Surely someone like Adrien couldn’t also be her dorky partner in crime fighting.

“Hey Adrien,” Marinette smiled nervously, “Why do you think that Ladybug thinks you’re a tomcat?”

“Because I am a cat!” He stated proudly. Then his expression soured. “Or as Ladybug says, I’m a bad kitty that needs to stop flirting with her cause they’re working and she likes someone else. It’s sad that she likes someone else. I wish she could like me…”

Yep. Definitely Chat Noir. Although Marinette had never called him a bad kitty before. Chastised him for flirting an inappropriate moments? Yes. But she never berated him. She’d have to have a talk to him later as Ladybug.

WAIT! Chat Noir is Adrien! Adrien is Chat Noir! The love of her life is also her partner! Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy! Crap! Calm down, Marinette! More important things to focus on right now!

She looked over at Adrien who was still pouting like a sad little kitten. She put an arm around his shoulders. “Well I got some good news for you, kitty. I know who Ladybug is really in love with.”

“Really?!” Adrien looked at her with stars in her eyes, “Who? I’m gonna whoop their butt if they mistreat her!”

“Ladybug has a crush on Adrien Agreste.”

“Boo! He sucks!”

“Dummy, Adrien is you. Ladybug likes you.”

“Oh...SHE DOES?!” He nearly screamed and Marinette clamped a hand over his mouth. He moved his head away from her, gaping at the information. “How do you know that?”

“Because that’s who I have a crush on.” Marinette’s cheeks felt entirely too warm. When she looked at Adrien there was absolutely nothing going on behind those big green eyes of his.

“Adrien?” She waved a hand in front of his face? “Goodness, you silly kitty, you are really out of it, huh? Give it a moment. It’ll come to you.”

Marinette started counting in her head. She got to one hundred and seventeen before Adrien finally perked up like a meerkat. “Ladybug?!” He pointed at her.

“There it is.” She ruffled his hair, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

“I--I--”

BANG!

*Present*

“Then that’s when Scarlet Moth and all the other akumas hit and we went to got fight them. Our future selves showed up to help kick some butt. We kissed. Then we went back to school so you could get to your fencing tournament. You won. You looked pretty tired so I walked you home after but you insisted we stop for boba first so we kinda went on an impromptu boba date. Got you home then I came out to celebrate with everyone about today’s akuma win.” Marinette finished, “Did that fill you in well enough?”

“So you are…”

“Yep.”

“And you like me?”

“Also yep.”

“And I somehow managed to do all this while disassociating to the point of amnesia?”

“Apparently so.”

“I am never mixing Nyquil and Red Bull again.”

“Turned out okay in the end though, right?” Marinette flashed him a bright smile.

As all the information settled within him Adrien smiled back and kissed her. She squeaked for a second not expecting it but eagerly kissed him back. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She giggled. She stood up and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, kitty, let’s go have some fun.”

*The next day*

“Hey bugaboo,” Adrien entered her room holding a hot cup of tea, “Sorry for getting you sick. Probably wasn’t a good idea to have kissed you so many times while I had a cold.”

Marinette blew her nose. “Worth it.”

#baby boy just wants to go to school #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #writing