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tomtenadia · 3 years

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A Little Braver - Chapter 11

Hello everyone. That’s me back from my holidays and I have ch 11 ready for you.

The first part is our two lovebirds still on holiday in Doranelle and they get to be cute and yes, this part as fluff. Enjoy it while it lasts.

For the second part and the ending, just blame the angst gremlin. I decline every responsibility.

It was Sunday and also Aelin’s last day of holiday in Doranelle. She and Rowan had spent their Saturday in the Cambrian Mountains and did a lot of hiking, had a picnic near a waterfall and swam naked in the pool in front of it and also engaged in some other more interesting activities. The day had been perfect and they had managed to survive two full days without fighting and they both were impressed by it.

Now they were in his car and Rowan was driving her to the coast. He had explained that it was the last part left to explore and that one of his colleagues had suggested a lovely place. He had made lunch for both again and they did manage to set off a bit earlier.

Aelin was comfortable in her seat, her feet on the dashboard and he stared at her while her head was turned to look outside.

After their talk he had decided to stop feeling guilty. Aelin had been right and they both deserved a second chance at happiness. He had finally decided to accept what he felt for her and maybe that was why they had not fought for two whole days. They had been both pushing the other away, too scared of caring once again. He still was, if he was truthful to himself. Her job scared the heck out of him. But he was done pushing her away.

“Are you comfortable over there?”

She turned and smiled at him, her blue eyes lit with mirth “are you going all health and safety on me, captain?”

“You are the firefighter, you should know the dangers of such a position in case I hit hard on the brakes.” He explained, stopping a mocking smile from appearing on his lips.

“Well, just don’t slam on those breaks, captain. Can you do that and deliver us safely to the beach?”

His hand gently brushed her naked knee. She was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a colourful top.

“Will the water be warm enough for me to swim in it?”

Rowan nodded. “According to my colleague this is a lovely beach and not too busy either. Something only the locals know about.”

Aelin pulled her sunglasses down on her eyes “wake me up when we are there.”

Fifteen minutes later Rowan poked her arm “Ohi, sleeping beauty. Get up.”

Aelin lifted her sunglasses on her head and glared at him “why can’t you behave like a well mannered man? I don’t know, wake me up with a kiss?”

He got of the car and opened the rear door and unloaded the two backpacks “get your arse out of my car. We are at the beach.”

“So, so rude.” She complained while leaving the car and grabbing her stuff from him. They had warmed up to each other but she still adored their bickering.

He started walking and she ran after him, grabbing his hand in hers.

They arrived at the beach and she rejoiced at the discovery they had the entire place to themselves.

Rowan selected a space not too far from the water and deposited their stuff on the ground, placing also the two beach towels for them.

In an instant Aelin had removed her clothes and was standing in front of him in her bikini.

He stared at her “is that your… bathing suit?”

She posed for him “lovely isn’t it?”

It covered very little, thought Rowan. Two red triangles covered her breasts all tied together by some very flimsy strings and the same for the bottom part.

He grabbed her hand and pushed her down on the towel “sit,” he rummaged in his back pack and took out sunscreen “you have a very fair skin and you will burn.”

Aelin sat down and he took a place behind her. He dropped some cream on her back and started spreading it on her back “you do the front,” he said by passing her the bottle.

“I thought you’d love the honour.”

Rowan sighed “if I do that it might lead to something else which is not appropriate on a beach in the middle of the day.”

Once his hands stopped she reached for the knot behind her neck and untied it, the top of her bikini falling off. She untied the one on her back as well and turned to him “up to the challenge, captain?” She took the bottle and put a dollop of cream on her fingers and started spreading it on her naked breasts and enjoyed staring at his expression morphing into pure lust.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He put more cream on his hands and began massaging her breasts making sure they had a nice cover “given how flimsy your bikini is, you need protection everywhere.”

“So considerate of you…” she teased him arching her back into his touch. She never had enough of him. She had a few men before Sam and no one had ever made her feel like that. Not even Sam.

Once he was done he bent over and recovered the piece of garment “come on, cover up.”

She took the piece of her bikini from him “scared by a pair of magnificent boobs?”

“No, we are in a public place.”

She slowly put the top back on and he offered to tie it for her “let them stare.”

Rowan’s mouth was at her ear again, biting gently her lobe “I don’t share.” and the tone in which he said it made her toes curl.

She then pulled away and ran to the water, jumping in it with happiness. Rowan stood and joined her slowly.

“Come one, it’s stunning.” She shouted emerging from the water.

Rowan smiled then ran and once he reached her he tackled her and carried Aelin like a sack of potatoes and threw her sin the water as soon as they reached a deeper spot.

Aelin re emerged. She tried to protest but she found his body against hers, his lips kissing her hard. She stared at his tanned and muscular body and ran a hand along his chest “I don’t share either, captain. I am very jealous of what is mine.”

Those words were his undoing. He grabbed her legs and pulled them around him and Aelin climbed on him and a moment later they had completely forgotten they were in the middle of the sea.

Luckily for them they had remained the only two people on the beach as their adventure in the water was followed a bit later by one on the sand.

Fully clothed again they now lay side by side. Aelin had her eyes closed, trying to suntan a bit and Rowan on his belly reading a book.

Aelin turned on her side and lifted the cover of his book and noticed it looked like about some theory of flight or tactics “we are on holiday and you are working?”

He turned to her.

“Your book,” she pointed “it’s about flight tactics. Can’t you enjoy a day without thinking about flying?”

“I’d like you to know that I am reading for pleasure. The fact that the book is giving me great ideas is another matter.”

Aelin scooted closer to him and placed her head under his arm and stared at the book with curiosity. She noticed strange drawings “are those flight manoeuvres?”

He nodded and with his arm he pulled her closer “this,” he pointed at the diagram “is called barrel roll attack. It’s quite cool.” Then he pointed at another one “this is the Immelmann and this one…” he turned the page “these are a low and high yo-yo.”

“They have funny names.” She looked at the book “this one seems cool,”

“This is a high G barrel roll.” He explained “you do this when the attacker is at your tail and you can feel his guns on you. It’s far more brutal than a regular barrel roll. Not recommended if you have a sensitive stomach.” He took out his phone and showed her something “Fenrys put a camera on his fighter during training and this is a video taken during training and a mock dogfight.”

Aelin watched the video with amazement “Play it again, it was so fast.” He did it and she stared at the jet completing the manoeuvre “was that you?”

Rowan nodded and showed her a few more videos of their training. She was fascinated.

“I still want to see you fly. For real.”

He put the phone down and looked at her “Lorcan says it’s fine. We can do that when I come back.”

Aelin nodded and he kissed her. He closed the book and pulled her closer and then lay down with his arm over her in a very protective gesture. She turned and snuggled all the way against his torso and let his body protect her from the sun.

It was a few hours later when Rowan woke up and realised they had fallen asleep on the beach. Aelin was tucked in his embrace and was sleeping soundly and he was glad to notice that her body was in the shadow of his body. It would have been a very painful awakening.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him and he loved the freckles that had appeared on her face.

“We fell asleep.”

“You really do make a good pillow.” She told him while sitting back up.

“I will make sure to update my resume, I am sure it’s a very sought after skill.” He stood and offered his hand to her “come on, let’s go for a stroll.”

She wore her top again “we don’t want to cause a riot, don’t we?”

Rowan smiled and he pulled her up after he took her hand.

They walked for a while. The beach had turned out to be much longer than they thought. Aelin had kept her shoes in one hand and walked the whole distance with her feet in the water. She hadn’t realised how much she needed a holiday. In the past year her life had been complete dedication to her job. It had helped to keep the demons at bay. But now there was Rowan and hopefully she had found someone with whom to walk the path back toward light.

“Fancy going out for dinner tonight?”

“I am craving seafood.” She said swinging their linked hands “we can stay here. Have dinner and then go back to your flat.”

“Sounds like a great plan.”

It was much later that night when they finally rolled back into Rowan’s flat.

“I am so tired and my face is on fire.”

Rowan cupped he face with his hands “you have freckles and you are stunning.”

Aelin gave him a smile and then ducked “I call dibs on the shower.”

Rowan laughed and let her win.

The shower took her a bit longer than planned. Her thoughts wandered to the fact that she was meant to fly home the next day and sadness struck when she realised she did not want to leave Rowan. They had the four best days so far and she hated that she had to wait two more weeks for him to be back and finally try and work on the foundation of their relationship that they had built during that holiday.

Once back in Rowan’s room she started packing. He had given her her own room but she never used it. They had ended up sharing the room and the bed.

She was busy groaning at packing when she felt his arms fold around her waist from behind. His smell of pine and snow was much stronger and she leaned against his chest, closing her eyes “I really don’t want to go.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” he told her against her ear.

“I know,” and she hated how petulant she sounded. She turned in his arms and buried her face in his naked chest. Rowan held her tight, her head tucked under his chin.

“I love when you hold me like this. It makes me feel less alone.”

Rowan squeezed her and they remained like that for a time that it felt endless. He didn’t want her to go either and he had a feeling they were going to be two very long weeks. He was getting used having her in his bed and loved waking up in the morning with her scent around him. He eventually pulled away and sat down on the bed and put on his briefs “come on,” he patted the bed “time to sleep.” She climbed in bed with him and took her usual position nested against him and his arms protectively around her.

Aelin was once again in his car but alas, this time it was not for an adventure. He was driving her back to the airport. Her holiday was officially over and she had been grumpy all morning.

His hand was resting on her knee giving her comfort.

“Are you going back to work tomorrow?”

Aelin shook her head “I need to start tonight. We are on night shift.”

“That sucks.”

In the distance she noticed the shape of Doranelle airport appear and her heart sank.

Rowan parked in the short stay car park and he grabbed her hand and together they walked into the airport. Check-in was a breeze and he eventually walked her just before the security area “this is as far as I can go.” He told her sadly.

Aelin crashed against him and fought it very hard not to cry.

“Hey…” he said very gently caressing her head “I will be back soon.”

She took a deep breath and pulled back.

“Call me when you land. I don’t trust those civilian pilots.” His thumb brushed her lips gently then he leaned over and kissed her.

“These are going to be two very long weeks.” He whispered against her mouth.

“I know.” Then she kissed him one more time and pulled away with all the courage she had. One of them had to let go eventually.

He kissed her one last time and let her hand go and stared at her walk away until she disappeared behind security.

***

It was a few hours later when Aelin landed back in Orynth. She had texted Aedion before boarding and gave him an ETA. While she waited for her bag to arrive on the carousel she phoned Rowan and he answered at the first ring.

“I am pleased to say that my pilot did manage to land us safely back in Terrasen.”

She heard Rowan scoff “It’s not that difficult, he just needs to press a few buttons and use the stick for landing and take off.”

She loved to tease him “he was hot though…”

“Sure, if you fancy men getting paid to fly a big metal trap in a straight line…”

She chuckled “we turned a few times as well.”

“You banked,” he corrected her.

“Uh?”

“An aircraft banks, does not turn. Then we roll, pitch and yaw.”

She huffed “fine, we banked. Happy?”

Her bag arrived and she placed it on her shoulder.

“Was the flight okay?”

She started walking to the exit “yeah, no turbulence this time.” She reached the main doors and walked through “what are you doing?”

“Getting ready to head to class.”

“Are you going to crush those little bastards?”

Rowan laughed “oh yes, I have a very hard exercise in mind.”

She spotted Aedion in the distance and weaved at him “Aedion is here. I gotta go.”

“Be safe, okay?”

“You too, captain. I am getting quite fond of having you around.”

“Bye menace.”

Aedion found her within minutes and hugged her as if he hadn’t seen her in a lifetime.

“Welcome back.” He squeezed her “give me your bags.” He grabbed her stuff and they walked back to his car “how was you holiday?”

“I had a good time.”

“You seem happier.”

“How is the station? Is it still standing?” She changed the subject. She had no intention of talking about her time with Rowan with her cousin.

“It is still standing. We had a few interesting calls, but nothing we could not handle. The team we got from west is blending really well in our team.”

“Good.”

They arrived at the station not long after and once she got off the car Lysandra and Elide ran to her and hugged her fiercely “I was away only for four days.”

“We missed you.” Then Lysandra grabbed her arm and pulled her to the lockers room “get changed and talk.”

Aelin opened her locker and dropped her duffel bag inside it and took out her uniform “So nosey,”

“You have just spent four days with hot captain. Come on girl, we want details,” and both women sat on the bench.

“We had a good time.”

“And?”

“And it was relaxing.”

“And?”

Aelin removed her clothes and remained in her underwear “and that’s it.”

“You are telling me, that you just spent four days living in his flat and you two did nothing?”

“I am not telling you anything.” She wore her trousers, then grabbed her top and finally her blue shirt “things happened but they are between us.”

“Aelin, I have a bet to win.”

“I knew it.” Shouted Aelin, fixing her hair again in a tight braid.

“Well, they had to concentrate on a new target since Aedion and I are off the betting pool.”

Aelin stopped and turned to Lysandra and the woman showed her her fourth finger now carrying a gorgeous ring.

“Holy fuck, he did it. He finally proposed.”

“It was beautiful,” said Elide dreamingly.

“He did it here at the station?”

Lysandra nodded “he waited for me and Elide to come back from a call. He placed loads of candles in a heart shape in front of the rigs and as we drove back in he stopped in front of the ambulance on one knee. And then he proposed.”

Aelin hugged her best friend “this is amazing. So friggin awesome.”

“So nothing happened with hot guy?”

Aelin looked at the clock. She still had twenty minutes before the start of the shift “Fine. Just as an engagement present.” And she took a seat beside the two women “Rowan and I, we… had a great time.” And at her expression, Lysandra squealed and Elide smiled as well.

“Is he good?”

Aelin laughed “he is… very skilled.”

“Holy shit. How many times? Where? Any naughty places?”

Aelin knew this was going to happen. She and Lys had always shared such things “the first time we did it three time. The night I arrived in Doranelle. And we did it in the sea and on an empty beach.”

“Ok, I am really jealous right now.” Asked Lys grabbing her friend’s hands “what does this mean?”

Aelin shrugged “he is away for two more weeks. Once he is back we… will discuss things.”

“Ok, from a scale from 1 to god, how good is he?”

Aelin laughed “definitely god.”

“And is he…?” Lys’ eyebrows lifted in a suggestive manner.

“I am not telling you that.”

“What does he do to be a god?” Asked Elide shyly.

“Make you scream so much the neighbours thinks he is torturing you.” Explained Lysandra deadpanned.

Aelin laughed and grabbed Elide’s hand “don’t worry about all of this.” She said tenderly “how is it going with Lorcan?”

Elide blushed savagely “really well. I… I told him about… me.”

“And?” Asked Aelin curious. She hoped the man had been nice to her. She knew where his office was.

“He has been nice about it. He promised he’ll wait for me and that when I feel ready he will show me everything.”

Aelin chuckled “Good.” Then looked at the clock “girls, let’s go.”

The team was having a relaxing night in front of the tv. Aelin was on the comfy chair her legs draped over the arm, reading a book. Rowan’s manual on flight techniques that he had lent her. After he had shown what he was reading at the beach she had started getting curious and wanted to be able to impress him upon his return. Her phone was in her lap and they had been texting all evening. She was hoping in an easy shift when the dispatch alarm went off. Everyone jumped and she and Aedion took a rig each after the announcement called for two engines and the ambulance.

Aelin ran to her turnout gear and got dressed super quickly and jumped in the engine.

“Did I hear correctly?” She asked Nox who was already at the wheel ready to go “are we going to the airport?”

Nox nodded.

“Those bloody civilian pilots.” She joked but no one got her and she wished Rowan was there, he would have loved it.

They arrived at the airport and Nox stopped the truck. Aelin got off and met the man in the car with red flashing lights “Follow me. We have a collision between two aircrafts. The big one then crashed into the hangar and we have people trapped in there as well.”

Aelin ran back and they followed the car and when they reached the accident site they were not ready for the carnage in front of them. The plane had slammed into the hangar and a raging fire had enveloped a side of the aircraft. Aelin searched for the second plane but could not see it. She jumped off the truck and went back to the man to get an idea of what they were dealing with.

“I thought you said there were two aircrafts.”

The man silently pointed at the remains of a smaller aircraft under the bigger one. There was nothing left and the smaller plane had been reduced to smithereens.

She went back to her team and started shouting orders “Manon, Asterin, try and crack the aircraft door open and see if we can save someone. Wesley, Kyllian you go with Ress and cover Asterin and Manon with water.” She ordered them “Ansel, you are on the aerial and get Manon and Asterin where they need to go.” Then she turned to the rest of her squad “Aedion, take Luca and Brullo and stop the aircraft fire. Remember that the fuel is in the wings.”

“How do you know that?” Asked Nox surprised.

“That is not important now.” She went to their engine and grabbed mask and oxygen tank and tools “Ren, Nox, you two are with me. We are going inside the hangar.” They all geared up very quickly and in the distance she noticed Dorian’s approaching. “Aedion, we might need to call west if it gets worse.”

Aelin and the two guys ran to try and find and entrance to the hangar but the frame of the plane was stuck inside it, blocking any access. “Be careful, there is jet fuel everywhere.” They walked under the wing on fire but they could not see any point of access inside the hangar.

“Can you hear it?” Asked Nox.

“Fuck, there are people still in the hangar.” The nose of the plane had collapsed as the landing gear had failed. Then she noticed it. A small passage near the nose. She removed her oxygen tank from her shoulders, pushed it through the opening and walked to the small hole.

“What are you doing?” Shouted Ren.

“Going in. I am the smallest of the three.” She kneeled and started to wriggle her body through the small opening “open up a bigger passage, we need to find a way to evacuate the civilians.”

Once on the other side, the heat was unbearable and fire and smoke made visibility impossible.

“Fire department, call out.” She shouted to draw attention. A massive explosion rocked the hangar and she threw herself on the ground and rolled quickly on the side managing to avoid a piece of the roof of the hangar collapsing on her.

“Fire department, call out,” she shouted again. Slowly she began walking deeper in the raging inferno in the hope someone was still alive. Everything was collapsing around her. Then she heard it. A voice.

“Fire department, call out.”

She heard the call again and tried to walk to the voice. Then she saw it. A person was on the floor and beside it there was another one. She ran to them.

“Are you okay?” The woman was in shock but alive.

She had a look at the man lying on the ground and searched for a pulse and found none.

“You need to come with me.”

The woman started shaking and Aelin pulled her up on her feet. She had no time.

“Go through there, there are firefighters outside. They will help you. You are safe.”

The woman nodded and kneeled and slowly slithered through the small aperture.

“Ren, there is a woman coming out.” She shouted.

“We can’t open a passage. If we do this side will collapse completely.” Shouted Nox in a panicked voice.

“Go through the other side, go through the nose, but I need a fucking bigger passage.” and she left again not waiting for a reply.

Manon had cracked open the door of the aircraft and she and Asterin had made their way inside. The cabin was full of smoke and fire had started to spread from a gash that had opened where the wing was attached to the fuselage. Manon smelled fuel and knew they had to be quick.

“We are with the fire department. If you can walk we need you to follow us and evacuate the aircraft immediately.”

Asterin walked deeper down the aisle “cover mouth and nose with something.” She noticed a few injured people “Manon, you take those who can walk.”

Manon nodded and directed people out of the main door and once at the aerial she shouted for Luca.

The young man climbed the aerial very swiftly “I am passing you some passengers, make sure they get down safely.”

Luca started ferrying people back and forth leading them to safety to two waiting Lys and Elide.

Asterin heard a few ominous sounds and pushed the people down the aisle, Manon joined her and together with the last two passengers they ran into the cockpit and slammed the door shut when an explosion rocked the plane.

Luca flattened on the aerial and covered the person he was accompanying, with his body.

On the ground Aedion and his two men took sheltered from the explosion and Dorian did the same.

“Evacuate the civilians quickly.” He shouted over the noise.

Lysandra and Elide took all the survivors to the ambulance that had been parked at a safer distance.

“Aedion, I want that fire under control.” Dorian barked again “we are getting close to the collapse point.” then he realised he was missing one person “where’s Aelin?”

“Inside,” and Nox pointing at the hangar.

“Alone?” Shouted Dorian in rage “you let her go inside alone? That is not protocol.”

“She was the only one who could fit through the small gap.” Ren bit back, not caring if he was being disrespectful to his CO. “Nox and I are trying to open a second gap but the fuselage is the only thing holding up the hangar right now.”

Dorian slammed his hat on the ground and tried to call Aelin over the radio but no response came over.

Aelin knew she was lost. She had found two more people beyond saving, but she did not give up. The heat was becoming worse by the minute. She continued walking until she spotted two figures hiding in a corner. They were alive “Fire department,” she shouted. The two people waved at her. One was badly injured “can you walk?”

“I can manage.”

“Lean on me,” offered Aelin to the man. Slowly they crawled back to the nose of the aircraft and as she did with the first person she pointed the exit to them.

She looked at the small screen on her wrist and noticed that her oxygen was running low.

“Shit.” She probably still had fifteen minutes. She could try and save someone else.

Dorian saw the two people come out of the passage and for a moment he hoped a third one would appear as well but Aelin never did. “Where are you?” He whispered to her.

Aedion got the aircraft fire under control, but not yet the hangar and Nox and Ren could finally work on opening a bigger passage for them to go in. They knew it was a race against time. Chances were Aelin’s oxygen was running low and they had to get in and find her quickly.

Aelin’s breathing apparatus beeped signalling her that her juice was up. She had moved even deeper in the hangar and she had lost sight of the nose of the plane, her only landmark to her way out. All around her there was nothing but fire. She threw the air tank on the ground, now exhausted and useless. She removed the mask and the stench of jet fuel hit her. The smoke grew thicker and she began coughing, her lungs burning at every breath. She placed the mask again against her face and walked a bit more searching for more survivors.

Aedion saw it happen in slow motion. He was helping Nox and Ren opening a new passage to the interior of the hangar when the structure folded on itself. The material, now compromised by the crash and the heat had given up like a house of cards in the wind.

“No… no… no…” said Nox frantically, “Aelin is inside. Fuck it, Aelin is still inside.” He shouted.

Aedion turned to him with a dangerous glare in his eyes.

He ran to the engine and went to grab his oxygen tank but Dorian stopped him “you are not going inside.”

Aedion freed himself from the man’s grip “I am going in and I don’t give a fuck. I am not letting her die in there.”

“You can’t go in there.”

“If you love her as much as you claim you will let me go in and save her.” Aedion wore his gear in defiance.

Dorian tried one more time to stop him but Aedion did not listen and slowly crawled through the passage they had managed to open.

Aelin stopped and coughed a bit more. Her lungs and her throat were on fire. She could feel the fumes from the jet fuel starting to have an effect on her. She moved a few steps then she heard it.

A moment later the whole structure collapsed on her. Her mask rolled away from her hand, and Aelin, trapped under the debris, sank into unconsciousness as the fire now surrounded her completely.

TAGS

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #aedion x lysandra #Throne of Glass series #fanfic

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d-criss-news · 3 years

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Darren Criss and Este Haim’s Friendship Takes Center Stage on That Thing I Do

On their new podcast, the musician-actors are picking the brains of fellow creatives about the passions that fuel and define them.

Darren Criss and Este Haim may have named their podcast That Thing I Do after the mid-’90s movie close to their hearts—That Thing You Do!, about the rise and fall of a fictional rock band—but there’s another film that seemed to loom just as large when creating their show.

“I think we’re like, slightly obsessed with the Sliding Doors moment,” Haim told Vanity Fair, referencing the 1998 rom-com that follows Gwyneth Paltrow’s character down two divergent timelines. “If you’re so incredibly passionate about multiple things, what is the thing? What is the event? Was there an event that made you kind of pivot and just go left instead of going right at that fork in the road?”

That pivotal crossroads is just one of the topics that Criss and Haim are eager to delve into on their show. Produced by Cadence13, That Thing I Do is a friendship-fueled quest to understand the passions, past and present, that have shaped the careers of other multi-hyphenate artists (Criss is an actor with a background in music, and Haim is a musician with roots in theater). In addition to lengthy, intimate conversations with celebrities including Carly Rae Jepsen, Evan Rachel Wood, and Reggie Watts, That Thing I Do mines Criss and Haim’s insatiable curiosity for all things creative to produce episodes that are as unpredictable as they are delightful.

As hosts, Criss and Haim tear through each episode like tornados: Accents are adopted, sentences are sung, and movie references and inside jokes fly hard and fast. Criss is a verbose, hyperkinetic storyteller, quick with a self-deprecating comment or quippy aside, and Haim is eager and unselfconscious, with a palpable enthusiasm for every guest and every possible subject. It quickly becomes clear that this is one of those friendships where the participants seem to more or less share a brain; where one can riff off the other, seemingly in perpetuity, about any number of topics without ever getting bored. And when a pair of celebrities find themselves so simpatico—especially a duo as funny and game as these two—what are they supposed to do? Not start a podcast?

That was more or less Haim’s thinking, after she and Criss started logging lengthy FaceTime calls during the pandemic that she increasingly felt would be entertaining to a wider audience. Criss, however, was more reluctant to start recording their conversations: “I said no so many times,” he said. “I really felt like I didn’t have time. But Este wore me down.”“I am pretty relentless when I want to do something,” said Haim, grinning. Haim, one-third of the eponymous rock band Haim, experienced her own “Sliding Doors moment” in her late teens, when after years of theater and dance training, she chose to attend the University of California, Los Angeles, for ethnomusicology, instead of pursuing drama programs at Carnegie Mellon or New York University. Over 10 years later, with a slew of Grammy nominations under her belt, music videos directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, and a life spent performing alongside sisters Danielle and Alana, there’s no question that Haim loves what she does, and takes it seriously. “I try to work at my craft every single day,” said Haim. “So at least I have that. I definitely try to stay creative every single day. If it’s not me writing lyrics, it’s me, you know, singing ideas into my iPhone.” But she’s still open about a “hunger” for acting and dance that she feels is still important to nourish, however and whenever she can. She reminisces about taking an improv class at the Upright Citizens Brigade in 2017, and her love of the Suzuki and Viewpoints methods of acting, both movement-based techniques that draw on an extreme awareness of the body. She claims she still interrogates actor friends about their experiences working in avant-garde theater (she charmingly calls these conversations “offline podcasts”).

Haim’s passion when talking about physical theater surprises even Criss: “We’ve talked a lot about stuff, but we’ve never really talked about [Suzuki],” he said. “I want to talk about that in the podcast, because we get to learn new stuff about each other every week.”

That real-time revelation speaks directly to Criss and Haim’s goal with That Thing I Do—to create a space where artists can speak to all parts of themselves, and bring previously unknown or underappreciated areas of passion and skill to light. “One of the things that I always love finding out about artists who I think are so incredible in one field is that there’s usually a seed somewhere else that is just as potent,” said Criss, citing recent interviews with Thundercat, in which the musician revealed his background in visual art, and Maya Rudolph, who majored in photography at University of California, Santa Cruz, before becoming a Saturday Night Live all-star, as prime examples. “Having an artistic spirit is by its nature very amorphous. It usually comes with a lot of roots that go other places.”

That interconnectivity of talents is something that Criss, an Emmy– and Golden Globe Award–winning actor (The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story) deeply relates to. As he describes it, each thread of his creative expression is inextricably linked to the other: “When I’m acting, I’m composing music, the way that dialogue is put together has rhythm, cadence, speed, tone, pitch,” he said. “There’s things that are very musical and compositional about the way that you deliver dialogue. So to me, it’s all kind of the same stuff. It’s all one body of water that can take different shapes.”

That’s not to say he hasn’t wondered what his life might have been like had he prioritized one of his skills over another at a certain time, imagining his own Sliding Doors plotline. “I often wonder what would have happened if, when I was 22 and I was getting attention from major labels and acting wasn’t happening, music was happening—would I have been a Shawn Mendestype?” said Criss. “But I don’t mind the expense that I’ve paid in not doing those one things, like, volumetrically. I now have a collection of a lot of things that have lower visibility, but higher passion and gratification.”

To that point, That Thing I Do doesn’t dwell too much on the could-have-beens and what-ifs, as tempting a thought exercise as it may be. He and Haim are more interested in finding the common threads between their own experiences and that of other creatives, and seeking the “why” behind the artistic choices their peers have made. Haim also reveals a less lofty, ulterior motive behind the pod: “This was also our evil plan to make new friends.”

And while both multi-hyphenates may have just added yet another commitment to their already very full plates, both appear energized by their newfound vocation as hosts—and to have a dedicated space to simply shoot the shit with each other. “I think we’re just getting started,” said Criss. “And I think Este would say the same.”

#darren criss #este haim #vanity fair #that thing i do podcast #that thing i do #press #august 2021

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Until Yesterday

➜ Words: 10.4k

➜ Genres: 75% Fluff, 22% Angst, 3% Smut

➜ Summary: You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie The Vow (2012) and a bit of The Notebook (2004). This is purely an indulgent fic for all my hopeless romantics out there, so it’s a bit different from my usual!

cr.

Marriage was nothing like they told you. It’s true that not much has changed from when you were dating or engaged, that merely the title of your relationship has slightly altered, but you have no regrets doing it at all. They always told you to wait until the honeymoon phase was over — that you'll find yourself tired and driven crazy by him. They told you to wait a few years down the line when you’re not having sex anymore and you’ll be so sick of each other, it’ll be like living with an awful roommate-child than being a couple in love. You’ll be bored when something becomes a normal routine, they said. But it isn’t like that at all. If anything, you’re more in love with Taehyung than ever. “We should put the couch right here.” “Well, we need to buy a couch first, Tae.” “Didn’t you like the leather one we saw today?” “I mean...I didn’t love it and it’s a bit pricey, don’t you think?” “It’s fine. Leave it to me and the bank account!” The blonde grins and pats his own chest and it only garners your scoff. “I’ll take care of you. It’s the least I can do.�� “I make the same as you, idiot.” It took years of hard work and dedication for the two of you to get to where you are, to have landed your dream jobs and built your dream house together. But of all the sweat and tears, you wouldn’t trade the outcome for anything else. The house was newly built in a developing neighbourhood, the scent of cut wood and paint still lingering in each room. The white picket fence surrounds the seashell home with the dark brown roof, glass windows large and bringing light into the open concept structure along with the skylights. It has the cherry wood door reminiscent to that of your old dollhouse and a swing out back tied to the tree that Taehyung wanted. It was all the two of you could’ve ever dreamed of and you’re eager to move in, to bring in your furniture and allow this home to grow with you. “Why is the master bedroom larger than I remembered?” Taehyung’s laugh echoes down the hall and you hear footsteps becoming louder against the wooden floorboards. “Maybe the construction team came in during the middle of the night and expanded the room for us for free.” “Yeah maybe,” you playfully quip back at him. “Maybe they’ll consider expanding our backyard too, so we can put that marble fountain in. It might cost more than this house, but you said I could trust in you and the bank account, right?” Taehyung peels you off of him when you glue yourself to his side and giggle. Batting your lashes at him has little effect. “Fountain is still a no-go, sweetheart.” You grin at him and waltz to the adjacent room, peeking your head into the modest space. “We still need to decide what to do with this spare room, Taehyung. If we want to turn it into another bedroom for when your mom visits or maybe an office.” Suddenly, arms wrap around your waist and you ease as your husband props his chin on your shoulder. It’s one of his many habits of his that you love. “How about we save it for a nursery?” The corner of your mouth quirks and you turn your head. “Are you sure?” “As sure if you are.” You spin around in his arms to plant a kiss against his mouth — one where Taehyung steals the opportunity and deepens it, catching you off guard. He pulls you in by your waist when you threaten to pull apart and he smiles at the whimper that comes out of you. When the pair of you finally part, you’re unable to resist the smile that spreads into your cheeks and your arms loop around his neck. “Kim Taehyung, aren’t you blessed? There’s no one I’d rather have a baby with than you.” His mouth forms into a rectangular grin. “You shouldn’t tempt me when we’re going to be late for our reservations already.” “Late?” Your lips fall and you check your watch before your eyes grow wide. Taehyung laughs and strolls behind you as you rush out, grabbing your coat and screaming at him to get the car started. It’s another one of those date nights. One where intimate conversations are shared over a candlelight dinner. Until Taehyung accidentally catches the tablecloth on fire and the candlelight is removed by an exasperated waiter and the intimacy in your discussion ends up with him doing something dumb and water nearly spewing out of your nose from laughing, and the other patrons are glaring at the ruined atmosphere. Still, with a generous tip paid, you leave full and happy. “Anything you want to watch tonight?” you ask as he’s driving. It’s peaceful with the roads emptier at this time of night and the radio playing some generic pop song in the back. You count the lamp posts that pass by. “Hmm...how about we do something else tonight.” Your head turns. “Like what?” Taehyung steals a glance at you and smirks. “I was thinking that we would drive back to the new house and break in that mattress we just got. Maybe get that kid you were talking about.” You scoff, looking straight out the windshield as you feel your face heat. Even after so many years with him, he still knew what to say to affect you. “It’s not that easy, you know, and that mattress is still wrapped in the living room.” “It’s fine. Better start now than later. And it’s our house, we can taint it however we want to.” It doesn’t take much for you to agree — and you do so in the midst of laughter. You shamelessly stare at Taehyung’s profile, the strands of his blonde hair that desperately needs a trim, his long lashes that you’ve always been envious of, the slope of his nose and his thin lips that always knows how to kiss you right. Taehyung’s thick brow cocks when he notices your blatant staring, but you don’t care. You’re just filled with joy and at a loss for words at how he’s with you. He’s yours. The two of you are too wrapped up in one another to pay mind to the car behind you. To the piercing beam lights. The wheels that screech against the asphalt. The sheer speed of the vehicle and recklessness of the intoxicated driver. So when the rear of the car is slammed into and you both lurch forward into the intersection of the road, it’s a shock. // The white fluorescent burns your eyes. It’s hard to see and you can’t feel your body. Not even your fingers that begin to twitch. You’re disoriented and delirious, not sure what day it is, how long you’ve been out, where exactly you are. It’s all muddled in your mind. All you can discern is a constant rhythm of beeping beside you and the odour of disinfect filling your senses. You’re scared — but you’re overwhelmed with the thought of Taehyung. Taehyung. You jolt in your spot and the rhythm of the machine quickens until it’s like an alarm, sounding aloud and making you panic even more. But then there’s a rush of people entering the room, white coats and scrubs checking the machines and lines hooked up from you. “Ms. Y/N, I am doctor Jeon.” There’s a man looking down at you and you blink blearily at him. “You’ve been in a coma for three days now. Is there anyone we can call for you?” “M-My husband,” you cry out with a parched throat. The doctor looks to the nurse but she frowns and shakes her head. “The patient doesn’t have a husband.” You don’t have a husband? At once, sobs wrack through your entire body and you thrash despite the aches in your bones and your ankle wrapped in bandages. The doctor and nurse are alarmed and you choke out the words— “I-Is he okay? Is he dead?” “Ma’am,” the doctor calmly says, “you were the only one injured on the scene.” Before you can utter a word, a man comes from the doorway. His hair is dark, matching the hue lined underneath his exhausted eyes. His features are soft and evidently tired like he hasn’t slept in the past few days. You don’t know who he is but he stares right at you — and then a relieved smile draws upon his features, one that is too comfortable and familiar. “Y/N?” His voice is deeper than expected and he closes the distance. The nurse is visibly confused, but he quickly introduces, “I’m her partner, Min Yoongi.” You recoil back before he can touch you, even when the hurt comes across his expression. “I-I’m sorry.” You don’t know who he is. “I think you have the wrong person.”

It’s hard to cope — your entire universe has been flipped upside down and you don’t know what to think. Suddenly by opening your eyes, your entire life has been swept from underneath your feet. Everything that you loved and cared about is gone. And you’re left alone to deal with it. “I-I remember being with my husband. We were driving back from dinner and planning to take a detour to the new house, but then a car rear-ended us and we were brought out into the intersection,” you recall. But the doctor’s brows furrow. “I see. Well, I can tell you that you weren’t in a car accident, Ms. Y/N. You were injured after falling down the flight of stairs at the subway station. You’ve been in a coma for three days.” It doesn’t make any sense and you squeeze your temples. But it hurts. Everything feels like a dream, like you’re floating and not truly grounded in reality. Your surroundings are hazy and you wonder if this is just a hallucination — a very frightening one, a world where Taehyung doesn’t exist. “What year was the car accident?” the doctor asks suddenly and you exhale, trying to remember the date. “It was late January of 2016.” “Ms. Y/N, it’s 2020 right now.” It’s a shock through your system. At first, you sputter, choking on your own spit. The doctor is kind enough to give you a moment but when you press your hand to your chest, you wince at the bruises around your wrist. Then you open your mouth and close it, finding yourself rendered absolutely speechless. Your brain is melting into itself and you have an urge to get up and scream. “What?” “It looks like you have a four year memory gap,” Doctor Jeon says as if he’s prescribing you with cold medication and if you weren’t bedridden, you might just throttle him to the floor. “It’s okay, these things happen with your sort of injury. It should be fine and only temporary. You can get your memory jogging again after looking at mementos, pictures, or talking to the right people.” “Anyways, we’ll keep you here for a few more days just to monitor that head injury, but it looks like your ankle is healing nicely. There’s no cause for concern, really.” The doctor ends up leaving and you repress the urge to cry again. You don’t know where Taehyung is and you miss him. // Your so-called partner appears days later to help with your hospital discharge and pack up your belongings. You learn his name is Min Yoongi and that he’s two years older than you are. He works as a car mechanic in a shop and you’ve apparently been with him for a whole year. Yet, you can’t help but stay guarded, watching him from the corner with your arms crossed while you try to decipher his impassive expression. The man is quiet, but not in an angry or frightening way. He never asks you questions, makes demands out of you or once appears exasperated with your distant behaviour. He seems gentle somehow. You wonder what your relationship with him was like. “T-Thank you,” you murmur as he packs the slippers he had brought for you into the duffle bag. Min Yoongi turns his head and the corner of his mouth pulls into an oddly warm smile. His voice is husky when he says, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just happy to see you walking around again.” You’re taken aback. You aren’t used to receiving this kind of love and affection from someone other than Taehyung and from a stranger no less. It makes you unsettled. Conflicted. The car ride is smooth. Yoongi helps you into your seat and buckles you in without making you speak much of a word. You’re not sure where you’re going, but you spend your time looking out at the window and taking in what you’ve missed for four years, or rather what your mind no longer recalls. Luckily, it seems like the world hasn’t changed too much. The streets are familiar, lined with lamp posts and bike racks. There are different billboards and some buildings you don’t recognize, but it looks like many things have stayed the same. The street names, avenues and boulevards, the people jogging and walking their dogs — it hasn’t changed. “Hey, Tae—” Except for the person driving beside you. You turn your head and blood drained from your face, realizing that it’s not your husband you’re sitting beside. “N-Never mind.” There’s a moment of quiet. Then Yoongi’s lips part. “It’s okay.” He glances at you and your eyes meet. “It’s okay,” he repeats with a small smile that makes you even more burdened. The apartment is modest yet cozy. A living room with cushions out of place and souvenirs on the shelves next to the television. The kitchen is to the left, cups in the sink and refrigerator haphazardly filled with take out boxes. It’s lived in, full of memories that you don’t have. But above all, you notice there’s only one bedroom and there are male belongings assorted with yours. Shaving cream. Gel. Cologne. “You live here?” you ask Yoongi, coming to the living room where he was giving you a chance to look around for yourself, perhaps hoping that you would remember something. “We live together,” he corrects with a tiny smile. “But it’s okay. I’m planning on staying at a friend’s place, so you don’t have to worry about me being here if that makes you uncomfortable.” “You…” Your mouth opens before closing, startled at how considerate he is. “You don’t have to. I mean, this place is yours too. It seems unfair if I kick you out. You should...stay.” Yoongi smiles and you shy away from his attention. “I...might not be comfortable sharing a bed with you though…” “Okay.” He nods. “I can take the couch.” That night, you lay awake in the foreign bed, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. It feels like you’ve been asleep for four years anyways, although it’s technically only been three days. Your brain is swimming in confusion. You’re not sure what to think. One moment you were with Taehyung and the next, you don’t have him beside you anymore and you’re with someone else. Taehyung…. You reach over to the nightstand and switch on the lamp. A dim yellow light softly fills the room and you begin to truly investigate your surroundings. On a pinboard near the door are pictures of you and Yoongi, selfies taken where you’re both smiling with one another, one of you at a carnival and another at an aquarium. The vanity drawer holds jewelry that you don’t recognize, perhaps ones that Yoongi had bought for you. Your phone contains grocery lists and miscellaneous notes that make no sense. There’s nothing on your social media, no connection, nothing once you search his name up. All you discover is work-related things in your calendar, more pictures of you and Yoongi and affectionate texts between the two of you. There’s no trace of Taehyung whatsoever. But when you dig into the closet and find a box at the top shelf hidden away, your answer is found. It’s inside a box of paperwork — school awards, certificates of achievements, evidence of your first paycheck, your birth certificate, social security papers, and divorce papers. You and Taehyung got divorced in April 2018. Two years and eight months after getting married. And it’s been a year and ten months since. The paper crumples underneath your hands and you gather your knees together on the floor as quiet sobs break through you once again. You don’t know what happened. Where it all went wrong. // When morning comes, you hope the swelling and redness of your eyes from crying so much isn’t noticeable. If it is, Yoongi doesn’t say anything and only regards you with a gentle smile. “I was going to stay home today, but I thought it might be overwhelming for you,” he says before you can protest otherwise, “so I’ll be at work. Take it easy, okay? You can call me anytime you want for anything. My number is in your phone.” You nod. “Thank you, Yoongi.” His smile is sweet. “I already told you, it’s not a problem.” But half an hour after Yoongi leaves, you prepare for your own departure. Hobbling with your weight on one foot and off the one with your injured ankle, you grab a coat and the car keys laying on the counter. It takes a moment to figure out which one is your vehicle in the lot but you find it after pressing the panic button. It looks brand new — apparently recently repaired and the reason why you had to take the subway and how you got your head injury in the first place. It might be wrong to leave without giving a warning to Yoongi, especially when he’s so worried about you, but you can’t stay idle at the apartment. You can’t sit still. You need answers. You drive to the house — turning down the familiar streets and roads before coming into the neighbourhood that feels like you had been in just a week ago when it’s probably been years. But you don’t recognize it anymore. It's more developed than you last remembered. What once were empty lots have other homes built. All the sidewalks are paved, there’s an elementary school down the avenue, a new playground that shines, neighbours that have moved in. What hasn’t changed is the house itself. There’s still the white picket fence that surrounds the seashell white home, a shade you had personally picked yourself when building it. The roof is a dark brown and the front door cherry wood. The glass windows are large with baby blue curtains and you wonder if there’s still the swing in the backyard…. You get out of the car, feeling your emotions swell up to your throat and your eyes becoming watery as you gave upon the house. This was the place you had built with Taehyung. The place you both had planned to live in for years. The place you wanted to raise your kids, grow old and retire in. It was perfect. The combination of your dreams. Where did it all go wrong? You close the distance, limping up the path to the door and knocking on it. After a moment, you ring the doorbell properly. But even then, there are no answers and you notice that the Kim nameplate under the mailbox is gone. Of course. It’s been over four years after all. You cross the street back to your car again, but not before catching sight of a woman bringing groceries up her driveway and towards her own house. “Um, excuse me.” She turns at your voice, brows lifted. “Do you happen to know who lives there?” You point to what was once your home. But unfortunately, she shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t. I know that house has been sold a few times and the owners have recently changed again.” “Oh. Thank you.” It’s hard to leave the house behind you, but you keep your foot on the gas pedal and drive, never glancing out the rear-view mirror in fear of bursting into tears again. You still have more questions than answers, so your next destination becomes downtown where Taehyung’s engineering firm is. The two of you had met in school, back when you were awkward and chasing after your ambitions of being a chemical engineer like your aunt while for him, he wanted to take his childhood lego dreams to the max and become a civil engineer. Your neck hurts to look at the top of the skyscraper, the many windows reflecting the bright sunlight into your eyes and blinding your vision. If there was any place where you could find Taehyung, it would be here. It’s his dream job. What he had wanted for so long and legitimately cried when he found out he got a position at. You remember that day, how proud you felt of him for achieving such a goal. But when you approach the receptionist at the lobby’s desk, her response only fires the confusion further. “Sorry. We don’t have a Kim Taehyung working here. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” You miss him. And you wonder at what point, he wasn’t a part of your life anymore. // In an attempt to find Taehyung, you contact your friends and work your way down your list of contacts on your phone. They’re happy to hear from you, some even knowing about your accident and asking if you’re alright. But when you ask about Taehyung, they tell you that they haven’t spoken to him since the divorce. That they’ve lost contact. That the months leading up to it, the two of you were distant from them and they’re unsure of the reasons for what had happened. It was frankly unexpected. “You always told me it wasn’t any of my business, dear,” your mother says over the phone. “You actually got quite upset when I asked, so after a while I didn’t anymore. Do you want to talk to your dad? He’s watching the news right now.” “No.” You press your temples, holding in your sigh. “It’s fine.” Frustration overwhelms you. No matter where you turn, you can’t seem to get the reasons for yourself. You can’t find him. “Is the take out okay?” At once, you’re snapped out of your thoughts and you lift your head to meet kind, cat-like eyes staring at you. “It’s good,” you try to smile and nod. He seems to sense how disconnected you are. “I’ll learn how to cook. I know you like carbonara, so maybe I can find a recipe this weekend and try to make it, so we don’t have to eat out all the time.” You stare at the man across from you. How tired he seems, his dark hair shagging in front of his forehead, his downcast head facing his food as his fork scrapes against the bottom container, never quite taking a full bite. Yet whenever your eyes meet, his plump lips always tugs into a small smile and his eyes crinkle. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s brows lift at the sudden apology. “What for?” “For not remembering you.” Even if Min Yoongi is a stranger, you can feel how intimate the pair of you used to be by the photographs you’ve seen, by the way he still regards you. You feel guilty for not being able to return his affections. “It’s fine. It’ll come back with time, right? Don’t stress out about it too much. It won’t do you any good.” “Yoongi.” You have his attention by the way you say his name like he hasn’t heard it uttered from your lips in quite a while. “I went searching for my...ex-husband today.” It’s foreign to call Taehyung that. It’s unsettling and makes you uncomfortable. But your eyes never divert from Yoongi’s. “I need answers.” “I know,” he murmurs in a low voice, still playing with his food. As intimidating as he might appear on the surface, you’re quickly learning how considerate and soft-spoken he really is. “And I want you too. I don’t want you to have any regrets. I want you to know you’ve made the right choice by being with me.” Your heart squeezes at his thoughtful nature and you sigh lightly before stuffing your mouth with some of the noodles, trying to alleviate the tension. “You’re a good man, Yoongi.” He chuckles, gummy smile emerging for the first time that you can recall. “Maybe that’s why you chose me in the first place.” // The avenue is nostalgic, a street that you and Taehyung spent many dates at with its cheap street food and cute stores. And when you were both working, it was the halfway point between your workplaces and where you’d meet to have lunch on those special occasions. A few things have altered from when you remembered them, the stationery shop closed and that ice-cream parlor changed into a pancake café instead. But for the most part, it remains the same. You aren’t sure what you’re doing here. Of all your ways and methods in searching for Taehyung, even you know that it’s unlikely you’ll find him on a Tuesday morning at such an obscure location. But it’s where you’re drawn too, where your body told you to go and your mind followed. Otherwise, you’re not sure what to do anymore or how you should contact him. You wonder if it’s too drastic to drive hours away to visit his mom on the off chance that she’s still living in the same place after four years. If she moved, the journey would be for nothing. But even then, if you somehow found him and reached out, would he even be willing to talk to you? A sigh escapes your parted lips. You tilt your head up to the sky, wondering where on earth he is. And in your reverie, you fail to notice the strapping brunette humming to the music he’s listening to. Not until your shoulder collides with his as he’s walking the opposite way. But instead of an apology spilling from your mouth, you’re interrupted by a call of your name— “Y/N?” It's shock that has taken hold of his expression. His hand rips out his earphones and the loud music becomes silenced from his world. With the way he looks at you, it would be like he’s seen a ghost. A stranger from his past. In your mind, it’s only been a week since you’ve seen him. And you’ve been missing him so much. On sheer instinct, you wrap your hand around his wrist, afraid to let go. “Taehyung.” // It’s awkward, the stiff air almost suffocating your lungs. You’re sure that the first date wasn’t even as bad as this. But you don’t mind whatsoever, even if he’s shifting uncomfortably at the intent way you stare and how it makes him break out into a sweat. Even if Taehyung hates you now, as long as you can see him like this, it’s enough to bear. Taehyung clears his throat, diverting his vision elsewhere. “So….you look like you’ve been well.” “Not really,” you murmur. Taehyung is still a man of intense habit. His drink order hasn’t changed, a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. At the same exact coffee shop since you were dating. And he’s taken the same table in the corner of the shop too, the spot of your many study dates. It’s these habits that have led you back to him. “I heard you weren’t working at the engineering firm anymore,” you say after another tense pause. Taehyung’s brows curiously raise. “I haven’t been working there in years. You knew about it.” “Did I?” He’s wary that you can’t recall. “Yeah….” “What are you doing now?” “I’m in animation.” Your eyes widen, surprised. “I never knew you could animate— well, I knew you could draw, but you never even watched much animation.” Taehyung shrugs. “It’s a good fit. I didn’t know I’d like it either until I tried.” Your expression softens, a tender smile pulling into your cheeks. Taehyung’s gotten older but in a refined way. His hair is back to its natural colour, a few wrinkles set into his skin but his features are sharper and less rounded and boyish. He seems less mischievous and irresponsible too, a little more mature and quiet. Or maybe he’s reserved because you’re his ex-wife. The thought makes you nauseous. He sips his drink. “So...what have you been doing?” “Not great. I recently got into an accident, Taehyung.” That seems to grab his attention and his eyes become rounded while you brace yourself. “Apparently I fell down a flight of stairs at the subway station and I was in a coma for three days.” “Oh shit. That...must’ve sucked. I...I’m sorry to hear that.” “I’m fine now.” You pause, clear your throat. “But the last thing I remember is us, Taehyung. We were planning to spend the night at the new house and we got hit by that car…” “I remember.” He nods slowly and murmurs, “But the accident wasn’t that bad, Y/N. We were only bumped.” “I don’t remember that,” you tell, earnest eyes connected with his that makes him believe you. Even after all this time apart, Taehyung can still tell when you’re lying and telling the truth. Your voice raises in pitch, in frustration and exasperation. “And...and I’m trying to understand how this happened. I’m trying to understand how we…..how we ended up divorced.” Taehyung’s brows furrow and he fiddles with the paper cup. “What’s there to tell? We fell out of love.” “That doesn’t make any sense!” Your shrill voice garners the attention of other patrons, but you don’t pay mind to them. “We got married and were planning to have kids and we just built a house in a new neighbourhood—” “We lost that house.” Taehyung doesn’t look at you. His downcast head allows his eyes to stay on the floor. He looks small — shoulders slugging and frame slumped. “I lost my job and then we lost the house. It went downhill from there and one day, you couldn’t do it anymore and packed your bags. You were the one who divorced me, Y/N.” You’re stunned, unable to get a single word out at the revelation he’s given you. An answer to your questions that you had never expected. That you didn’t want to hear. Taehyung’s eyes are saddened and he never once meets your gaze. “You’ll remember sooner or later. I’m sorry this happened to you, Y/N. I really am. But it was still nice to see you.” He gets up before you can protest, leaving as fast as he came into your life again. // Yoongi arrives home visibly tired, his hair in a disarray and his navy workwear stained with oil and grease. Still, he greets you with a warm, sleepy smile that you still aren’t used to. “I saw my ex today,” you tell him during dinner, breaking the silence by deciding to be open and honest. It at least alleviates some of the guilt weighing on your chest. “I found him coincidentally.” Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, peeking at you. “How did it go?” “It didn’t help. I’m still confused.” You can’t understand why you would ever leave him, even if you lost the house and he lost his job. It didn’t make any sense. “Do you know anything about the divorce, Yoongi? Did I….ever tell you anything?” “You told me that he was pathetic,” he informs but without any malice like he’s simply stating facts. “He was unemployed for two years and didn’t get off his ass to find a job. Hey, your words, not mine.” The corner of your mouth curls even when you’re still stupefied. “Are you alright, Y/N?” An exhale leaves your lips. “I’m not sure.” That night, you find another box in the closet while alone in the bedroom. There are pictures of you and Taehyung from when you were younger and just friends, small mementos like movie tickets and keychains won at arcades while you were dating, and photographs of the wedding day, the two of you with enormous smiles and swollen cheeks. But they’re buried underneath your belongings with Yoongi. // His expression is one of repulsion, like he bit into a lemon or something bitter. But you don’t pay any attention to it. “What are you doing here?” Taehyung is incredulous to see you in the morning, standing in the same café as if you own the place. “I’ve been waiting since eight,” you complain and he repeats his question with increasing skepticism. You suppose it’s not everyday your ex-wife is waiting to run into you, so you don’t blame him for his apprehension. “I’m trying to understand how the two of us got divorced. I know this is probably really weird since for you, I’ve shown out of nowhere after two years.” “You think?” You ignore his playful quip. “But for me, my last memory is still going on that date night and getting into that car accident.” Before Taehyung can utter a word, the barista is calling him as the next person in line. “Can I get—” A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. “A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings,” he says without missing a beat and your mouth tugs into a smile. Lots of things may have changed in the time that you no longer remember, but the fact of how constant he is comforts you greatly. You wait with Taehyung at the counter, feeling his eyes glancing at you every so often. When your eyes meet, he realizes he’s been caught staring. “Once I remember again and make sense of the situation, I’ll leave you alone,” you say even if it hurts, but the last thing you want is to be burdensome to Taehyung. “I just want to understand and get over it and move on like you have.” Taehyung sighs, never saying a word. He picks up his drink and you follow along with him, quietly as to not disrupt the comfortable silence between the both of you. He walks down the street and enters the modest grocery store, beelining to the deli to pick up a ham sub. But he notices your quirked brow. “What?” “No.” You shake your head. “Just reminds me of uni. You used to eat those too. Same brand and everything.” The man scoffs lightly, but he knows. You’ve pointed it out to him many times in the past that he has a tendency to stick to specific habits — the odd quirks that you once said you loved about him. “Like what?” he had once asked when you mentioned it. “Like you always put your beverages on your left side and you chug half a glass of water before going to bed and you always close the entire toilet when you’re done going to the bathroom and you have the same brand of cereal every morning and after you sneeze, you always scratch your nose every time,” you had said in the midst of giggles and then lifted yourself up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. They’re cute and it’s part of why I love you.” The two of you walk together down the street. The early morning air is crisp and chilly, slightly nipping at his nose. He grips his drink still steaming to warm his hand and Taehyung can’t help stealing a glance at you, wondering if you’re cold too. “How’d you get started into animation?” “Huh? Oh. Well, if you really want to know then after you packed your bags and dumped me, it was a pretty good wake up call.” Taehyung laughs as if he’s recalling a funny memory, but then his expression softens, touched with sorrow. “I decided to get myself picked back up and get a job. They liked my personality enough at the interview to give me a chance. At first I didn’t know what I was doing, but I learned and I like it a lot.” He turns his head when your silence is prolonged. But his eyes widen when he finds your tender smile. “I’m happy for you, Taehyung.” And you really are — even in spite of him not technically being a part of your life anymore. // The next day, Taehyung is not any more impressed to see you there at the café. You enthusiastically smile and wave at him. And when the barista calls the two of you in the line, you have no hesitation. “Can I get a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings? And just an iced americano for me.” Taehyung eyes you when you pay and stroll to the other counter to wait. “Don’t you have a job to go to?” “I’m still technically in recovery and it’s not like I can work if my head’s a mess.” Taehyung scoffs lightly. “What do you want to know this time?” He can tell by the look in your eye that there are questions on the tip of your tongue. And when you take out a whole laundry list like it’s things you need to buy at a grocery store, a rectangular grin plasters on his face. Taehyung wouldn’t expect any less of you. “Hey, I was thinking about it all night, alright? I was afraid I was going to forget so I wrote it down.” He leans over to look at the list but you move away. “Don’t peek.” “Okay, okay.” He laughs and gestures for you to start. “First question. What did I say before I left?” You look at him, eyes meeting his. “What were my exact reasons for the divorce?” He hums a low note, staring off into the distance. “I don’t remember well. You called me a motherfucker though,” Taehyung chuckles and becomes solemn. “Probably something along the lines that I’ve stopped trying and that you were leaving. There was a lot of crying and screaming. I…..don’t really like to think about it.” There’s a pause and you clear your throat, paper in your hand crinkling and forgotten. “Why didn’t you ever do anything to stop it?” A sigh leaves his lips and he runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m an idiot. But it’s not like I could’ve forced you to stay with me.” “I’m sure if you had said something, I would’ve stayed.” Taehyung’s smile is meek and sad, not at all like how it usually is. You wonder just how much you hurt him, how much you hurt each other. “A lot can happen in two years, Y/N.” A lot can happen in the two years they were apart too. “Have you been seeing anyone?” “No. I haven’t,” he says. It’s a question that tumbled out of you, one not on the list. // The evening comes and you hear the front door open and shut. Immediately, you call out from the kitchen, “Hey!” Yoongi emerges from the hall with another tired smile. “Hey.” “I got takeout for us,” you say while heating said food up. “How was work? Busy again?” “A little.” The man comes closer to see what you’ve bought but before he’s able to assess, he mindlessly leans in and plants a soft kiss against your cheek. You instantaneously freeze, the muscles in your body becoming rigid and tense, and Yoongi realizes. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit.” He pulls away, disheartened and guilt wells up in your throat. “It’s okay.” Yoongi nods and he shrugs off his coat, walking back towards the hall to hang it up, but you stop him before your conscience can berate you, before you hurt him further— “I saw him again. This morning.” He halts. He stands still as you watch his backside. The both of you know who you’re referring to. “How was it?” Yoongi inquires hesitantly as if he’s not sure if he even should. “It was good,” you murmur. “I got a few more answers.” His head turns, the black strands of his hair sweeping against his forehead. Yoongi’s gentle eyes are glossed over, his tone low and husky as he quietly asks, “Can’t you get answers without seeing him?” “I…..I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You divert your vision, but from the corner, you can see the way his mouth curls gingerly. “It’s okay.” But you know that it isn’t. It’s unfair to him to wait for your memories to return, for you to continuously see someone of your past as he waits for you to come to love him as you once did. The man retreats into the darkness and you feel guilt overwhelm you. // When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and expects to see you. Standing there, waiting for him as if you were the owner or a barista working full time. “Are you sure you’re not healthy enough to go back to work?” He grins, brows lifted and almost impressed at how adamant you are. “No.” You loll your head to the side. “I’m still feeling tired.” Taehyung scoffs lightly, noting that you always show up earlier than he does. “Tired, huh?” “You must be tired too. Your shirt is inside out.” “What?” His line of sight follows to where you’re pointing and Taehyung looks down to see that his shirt is indeed inside out. He groans in embarrassment as you laugh. “Did you not notice?” He doesn’t answer, grabbing his drink from the counter once the barista calls his name and he books it out of the shop. But not without you following behind him and still giggling. “Are you sulking?” You quickly catch up to him and quirk your head almost to his shoulder. “I’m just teasing, Tae. It’s not that noticeable.” “You noticed it.” “Well I’ve always noticed everything about you.” He clicks his tongue in feigned annoyance and stops, making you halt on your heels. “Don’t flirt with me, woman. Didn’t you say you were seeing someone?” You scoff, continuing to walk and this time, he’s the one who follows after you. “Who says I’m flirting with you? I think you’re terribly mistaken and quite frankly, full of yourself.” Taehyung grins. “It’s not my fault I was born this handsome and have so many people regularly flirting with me.” “Uh-huh. You’re beginning to sound like Seokjin.” “He’s not half as handsome as I am.” You burst out laughing, knowing that your old friend would probably throw a fit if Taehyung openly fought him for the position of most handsome in your group of friends. “I beg to differ.” “Then why didn’t you marry him back then?” “Should’ve,” you sing-song much to Taehyung’s chagrin. The pair of you stop in front of his building, the destination of every morning journey. You know this is where you’ll have to leave him off and see him again tomorrow, wait for just these ten minutes of conversations and banter. But unusually, Taehyung doesn’t bid you farewell right away. He doesn’t run away with his tail in between his legs, shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder. Instead, he stops with you and smiles. Taehyung lingers on the sidewalk with you. “Y/N…” He gazes at you. Your eyes connect with his warm irises and something lodges in your throat, an emotion that only seems to come with him. “Hmm?” There’s held silence— “There’s a bug in your hair.” “What?!” His palm slaps your forehead before you can flail, not enough for it to hurt, but enough that you’re stunned. You lift your hand to rub the spot and at the same time, a rectangular grin spreads into his face. Taehyung laughs childishly. “Kidding.” “Are you five years old?!” you shout but it only eggs him on more. “Sorry, sorry.” He bats your hand away and his fingers come to rub the spot for you instead. “I’m pretty sure it was your face cream and not a bug.” The proximity is closed. You can feel his breath against your face, count his thick lashes, draw constellations through the tiny freckles around his nose. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks and Taehyung catches it. For a moment, his eyes linger against your lips and yours follows down to the dip of his cupid’s bow to the corner of his mouth. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, a kind of intimacy not found between a pair of old friends on a normal morning. It’s a kind of longing that you recognize in Taehyung’s gaze as it’s similar to your own… You lean in to close the distance completely. But then Taehyung abruptly pulls away. His vision is diverted to the ground. All traces of mischief are gone. His mouth has fallen into a straight line, brows knitted together as if he’s in physical pain. “What are we doing, Y/N?” He doesn’t wait for a response. Taehyung turns and walks away while the knots in your chest constrict you. But you run after him. You take three strides before he can vanish from your life — like what you found when you woke up in that hospital bed. The thought of that returning is terrifying. “Taehyung!” “No!” He turns around to face you, shutting you down before the way you call his name can affect him. You’re taken aback by the hurt etched on his expression. “It took me two years to get over you and even now I’m still not over you,” he declares angrily and your eyes widen. “And then you come out of nowhere to make a mess out of my head, playing these games.” Your brows furrow, upset at his accusations and you shout back at him, “What games?!” “I know that the moment you remember again, the moment you get over your stupid fucking amnesia, you’re going to dump me!” Taehyung swallows hard. “You’re going to make me go through all of that again. It’s downright cruel, you dense woman!” “Don’t call me dense!” Without conscious decision, tears begin to shed down your face and you shake your head. “You know that that isn’t my intention.” “I know.” Taehyung sighs. “But it’s going to happen anyway.” The pair of you look at one another and then the doors to the building open. A tall man with dimples comes out and is absolutely bewildered at the ruckus. He’s seemingly familiar with Taehyung, perhaps a colleague of his. “Is something wrong, dude?” “It’s fine.” “Who’s this?” the stranger asks curiously, smiling at you. “She’s my ex-wife.” The man is caught off guard, eyes becoming rounded. “I didn’t know you were married.” “Yeah, well, I used to be.” Taehyung peeks at you in a silent farewell and you watch his backside leave.

When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and then his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t know why disappointment seems to overwhelm him when you’re not there and he wonders since when he expected you to be in the first place — standing there, waiting for him. He stands in line by himself. Makes his order by himself. Picks up his lunch by himself. Taehyung walks to work alone. And every so often, he unconsciously glances to his side and then sighs when he catches himself. He’s not sure why he keeps anticipating you to be with him. Why he allows himself to feel frustrated when he remembers you’re not here. You’ve become Taehyung’s habit. And now you’re gone.

There’s a timid knock at the door. A moment later, it cracks open. “Hey, dinner is ready….” Yoongi’s puzzled to find you standing on a stool, reaching to the top of your closet but he smiles, glad to see you lively again. “What are you doing? Do you need help?” “It’s okay.” You grab the album you were reaching for and wipe off the layer of dust that covers it. “I just remembered I kept old albums up here. Jeez, it’s so dusty.” Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You remember?” You nod, smiling at him. “I do.” The album is flipped open and you step off the stool to sit on the edge of your bed. Yoongi watches you for a moment and exhales softly. “Well, I’ll leave your food on the table.” You thank him and he takes his leave, shutting the door. You guess no matter how bad your relationship with Taehyung got, you never had the heart to throw away or burn the photographs. And you’re glad. The photographs of your wedding day are still in tip-top shape, images showing the pair of you glowing in the sunset with his arms wrapped around you. You remember that wedding dress and that suit of his that had to be tailored twice. You remember being late to the ceremony and having to run with Taehyung who snuck out to see you beforehand even though he wasn’t supposed to...… There are also photographs of your honeymoon, a vacation to the Caribbean, and another trip of Europe that you went on during your university days. But above all, there are photos of the pair of you in front of the newly built house. Proud and ecstatic. The seashell white home with the dark brown roof and large windows and skylights standing tall behind you two. Ready to house your future. Some things change but these memories won’t. // The sprinklers spritzes across the freshly mowed lawn, a sputtering hiss that leaves a mist in the air. You step up the stone path to the cherry wood door, noticing the golden nameplate under the mailbox, but you don’t dwell. In your haze, your closed fist comes to steadily knock at the door. It swings open. Inside, you find someone with warm eyes, brunette hair and a boxy smile. He encapsulates the sunlight itself, so bright that it’s hard to discern who exactly it is. But you feel like you know. Like you had known before you even knocked and the door opened. The man calls your name. And you’re shaken awake from the beautiful dream. And you wake to an empty bedside, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s the middle of the night, darkness surrounding you and weighing heavily against your body. But you fight against it and rip the covers off of your body, grabbing a cardigan off your chair and rushing down the hall. Yoongi is stirred from the noise and gets up from the couch. “Where are you going?” he asks in a husky voice, running a hand through his hair that’s sticking in all directions. But the sleepiness leaves the man as he watches you shake your head, struggling to put on your shoes with tears in your eyes. “I-I need to go, Yoongi.” But for the first time, he reaches out. Yoongi’s hand clasps around your wrist to stop you, having an inkling that you might never return. “I won’t let you.” His foot is finally placed down, but the decision has long been made. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.” “Don’t say that,” he desperately pleads. “But I am. It’s unfair to you. That I’ve treated you this badly while all you’ve ever been is patient and considerate and understanding. But I don’t want you to wait for me anymore.” “You’re not going back to your asshole of an ex-husband. He was horrible to you.” “Yoongi, what do you expect me to do?” It’s a genuine question that you ask. You’re at a loss and the words choke out of you, but you had these feelings the moment you had awoken in that hospital bed. “I love him.” The pause draws on and you lower your gaze. “It’s not fair for you to wait for me to love you instead. I’m in love with Taehyung.” Yet in spite of your words, Yoongi still pulls you into him. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight as if you might vanish between his fingertips. You come to realize that you never gave Yoongi a chance to express his love to you — you never kissed him or held him despite how long he waited. You feel him tremble against you. The man who you had woken to presses his face to your shoulder, his quiet tears staining your thin clothing. You return his hug, arms lifted around his torso and grasping him close. You remember who he is. You know well. He’s Min Yoongi, the man who you loved. After a moment, he releases you. “Go.” You nod. “I’ll always be thankful to you, Yoongi. More than you’ll realize.” // The car door slams shut. You cross the street, approaching the house that still stands tall on the quiet suburban street illuminated by lamp posts. You’re not sure what you’re doing here at this time of night and you know you’ll just be disheartened when you see another family inside, living in the space that was meant for you and Taehyung. But you needed to see it. It’s your home. What you made with Taehyung. Physical proof of your planned devotion to one another. The house is dark and you assume that the people inside are long asleep. So you take a moment to gaze at it, heart aching inside your chest, and after ten minutes, you turn to walk away and leave your home behind. But then a car drives down the road. It’s a modest vehicle and as you wait for it to pass to cross the street, it instead pulls into the driveway of the house. The headlights turn off. The engine dies. The car door opens. And you freeze, watching the person emerge. “Taehyung?!” The strapping brunette man is unmistakable. He’s dressed in his work clothes, casual sweater and black trousers, his leather crossbody bag slung across his torso. He looks tired from what you can see with the glow of the many street lights, his hair messy and eyes weary. But he still has the energy to be shocked at your sudden presence. Shocked as if he’s been caught in the act. “What are you doing here?” You speak on an exhale. “Y-You bought the house back again?” He bought it after the two of you lost it. Even when there’s no reason to. Not unless it still holds sentimental value. Not unless the memories held in there were ones he still cherishes. Not unless he still loves you. Taehyung murmurs your name, “Y/N…” You run to him, closing the distance, throwing your arms around his neck. And you kiss the silly man breathlessly, pressing your mouth against his and swallowing the groan that leaves his lungs. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close and quickly reciprocating. His head tilts and his tongue slips into your mouth, drawing noises out of you like when you were young and still exploring one another. But it’s a kiss of sadness and longing — yet still sweet even after so much time has passed. After a handful of seconds, Taehyung pulls away. “W-What are we doing?” He shakes his head, letting go of you. But you grab hold of his hand. “I still love you, Taehyung. I love you.” His earnest eyes search yours. “How….how do I know you won’t just remember why you wanted to leave me. How do I know it won’t happen all over again? We’re still the same people, Y/N. It didn’t work once.” “I don’t care,” you spit at him desperately. “To me, it feels like it was until yesterday that we were still married and in love. And right now, right now I still love you, Taehyung. I miss you. I don’t care what happened, that you lost your job, lost the house and started to feel bad about yourself and gave up on us.” Taehyung’s eyes are rounded and his lips part. “You….remember?” You nod. “I have gradually for a while now.” Bits and pieces had fallen together the longer you spent with him, the more you looked at pictures and mementos, and searched your memories. They were loose puzzle pieces, moments of time, until you fit them together to create a whole picture. To finally understand why things happened the way they did. And you can finally recall the downward spiral of Taehyung all those years ago. How he abruptly got laid off, losing his dream job that he had worked so hard to obtain, how the two of you lost the house when your sole income was no longer enough and how depressed he became about losing that home. How he sat at his desk for two years in the dark, playing games and wasting time, giving up on searching for a job and refusing to get himself help in his poor mental state. You remember how he ignored you until you felt like his mother and couldn’t take it anymore. How he pushed your sanity enough that you had to walk away before you were damaged. But in spite of all that has happened… “I still love you.” He’s an absolute shit, but you love him. Without being able to blink, Taehyung tugs you in by your waist and he presses his lips against yours, holding you close to him. You smile against his mouth before your hands lift to cup his cheeks, cradling his face as he deepens the kiss. It’s desperate, hungering to make up for lost time, fulfilling the yearning that has dwelled between the pair of you each time you spoke. Taehyung kisses you like he’s missed you more and the pair of you barely manage to break apart to stumble into the house. “I can’t believe you bought this place back.” It’s a whirlwind, nostalgia slamming into you as you step into the foyer. You’re overwhelmed with emotion, feeling a staggering urge to start crying. “Had to do a lot of negotiating, but I did it,” he murmurs proudly, happy to show you how he’s picked himself up, how he found another passion and followed the path, that he’s no longer so pathetic. “All on my own too.” “Taehyung…” He kisses you again, less gentle than before. He’s merciless, hands placed on your hips and your back arches into him until the force of his body causes the two of you to fall backwards onto the floor. Taehyung catches your head so that it never hurts and he hovers over you, leg between your knees while he peels off his coat. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, gazing into your eyes. “I never got to tell you that. I’m sorry for hurting you.” You nod, grasping at his forearms that’s next to your head and he takes the opportunity to lean down. Taehyung lay pecks against your cheek until he moves his way down to suck bruising kisses into your neck. You cry his name, writhing against him as he palms your breast and leaves his marks all over you. Taehyung eats you out on the cool tiled floors of the foyer entrance, filling the house with obscene sounds that make you embarrassed. But you can’t complain, not when you’re sobbing his name and your fingers are sinking into his hair. You end up cumming all over his swollen lips and chin, and you bat at him when he grins and says it’s delicious. Before Taehyung can completely ruin the mood, you grab him and with little warning, his cock sinks into your cunt, head poking right at the entrance of your cervix. You feel full and he begins to pound into you, satisfying that itch you’ve had for so long. Taehyung makes you look at him the entire time and as you hold him, it hits you just how much you missed him. Tears leak from your eyes and it only eggs him on to be rougher. His fingers sink into the meat of your thigh and his mouth leaves hickeys down the valley of your breasts to admire later. You cum again and then he presses his pelvis into yours and cums in you as well, painting your walls in white. Despite being sweaty and sticky, Taehyung kisses you again and the two of you hold one another. He’s sweet and affectionate until he starts to push his cum back into you with his fingers when you begin to leak. “Now you’re not even trying to hide the fact you want me to get pregnant.” The man mischievously grins. “Last I checked, it was yesterday that we wanted kids.” You burst out laughing, unable to argue with that but…. “We’re not even married anymore. What would your mom think?” “She would probably cry tears of happiness if she knew we were together again. And marriage…” He interlaces his hands with yours. “We could make it happen again. If you want.” You nod. “I do.”

It’s another chance. Another do over. You wonder if you had never lost your memories and tried to chase them down, if you would’ve ever reached out to Taehyung again and reignite the spark between the two of you. Had you not found him again, you wonder if you would’ve known that he’s picked himself again and returned to the man you fell in love with. It’s hard to say but those things are yesterday’s problems. Today, you look towards the future. “Wake up, sleepy head.” On any other day, you might kick him in the knee for waking you up on a weekend, but it’s been so long that you don’t mind whatsoever. Taehyung’s mischief is world’s better than waking up to an empty bedside or to someone you can’t genuinely love as much. “Ugh.” You open your eyes and immediately slap a palm against his mouth. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.” Taehyung peels your hand off, grins and smooches you anyway. You laugh and quickly reciprocate. When it’s all done and over, he snuggles into you. “You know…” You’re wrapped in each other’s arms and you slowly blink awake, glad that you’ve finally woken up with him beside you. “...those brown walls in this room are going to have to change.” Taehyung laughs. “Happily.” There’s nothing been more certain of. You want to spend tomorrow with Taehyung and the day after that and the day after that. Until eternity.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #throw away your logic y'all #and indulge in some hopeless romance

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wendystales · 3 years

Text

Memories - lrh (Chapter Sixteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Fifteen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Seventeen

Luke pov.

“Do it again.” Ashton asks, staring at me intently.

We were about to leave my house for my surprise party, which I discovered in less than an hour. I was rehearsing a face of surprise so as not to end the surprise, cause I know everyone worked hard for it.

I widen my eyes, breaking into a smile.

“I can't believe you deceived me.” I say with my voice altered by the ‘surprise’.

“Don't say that, it will be very obvious that you know. Says ‘I can't believe you threw a party for me’.” he suggests.

"I can't believe you threw a party for me." I redo the entire acting.

“Yep! Me either. But what doesn't M&Ms ask, that I don't do?” Ash dries the water bottle with a shrug. “I'm just kidding.” he laughs after seeing my face.

“Speaking of her…” I fill my glass with some more wine, since it's too early for us to go. “Something new?” Ashton denies, frustrated too.

“I commented that she was acting weird, but she just changed the conversation and said that she's been busy and that she was nervous about the party.” he sighs. I massage my forehead, annoyed.

"Am I going to have to put her against the wall to get something?" I look at him, not knowing what to do.

“You know this isn't going to work. She's going to run away, you're going to fight, she's going to walk away and you're going to be more annoying than you already are.” I appreciate my friend's attempt to change the mood with provocation, but it has no effect.

"I can't find any reason to give me any sign of what's going on. Was it my fault? I knew I shouldn't have stayed with her that Saturday, I pushed the situation too hard and now she's pulling away, avoiding me-”

“Oh shut up! Don't even start with that.” Irwin raises his voice, cutting mine off. "Marnie isn't like that, she doesn’t do these things. If she wasn't comfortable she was going to talk. You said yourself that she asked you to sleep there. She let you pick her up on Monday and asked you to take her home, even after you dedicated Best Years to her. She didn't run away there, because it was remarkable how much she liked the song. You should pay more attention to the way she looks at you.”

A silly laugh escapes my lips when I see Ashton imitate her looking at me and smiling. My heart warms at the possibility that she is actually falling in love with me, just as I already am with her.

"Luke, if she didn't want to get back together, she wouldn't open up so many gaps and opportunities for you to be together. She must just be confused about the feelings. That's how it looked for the first time. Look, let's analyze her behavior today, after all the stress of the party and then we get stressed.”

I agree with my friend. I'm freaking out over something that shouldn't be very important. Maybe it's all the pressure with finishing the album. The release date is approaching and sure enough, Jim freaking out in my ear for the publicity trip we were supposed to be doing, but we're still going against it due to Marnie's accident.

I don't know how many times I have to tell him I'm not leaving LA yet. This delay wasn't hindering anything, so I don't know why he makes such a point.

“Go, get rid of that dead face and let's enjoy your party.” Ash slaps my shoulder.

We left the house, heading to Jack's house, where the party would be. I've been training my face the entire way, wanting it to be as realistic as possible, even though everyone already suspects that I know.

Even if I didn't know it, the moment I see the street full of cars, I realize that I would find out there. Irwin tells them we're coming and I notice the noise of the music fade away. Discreet.

We entered the house, finding everything quiet and tidy. But when we turn to the kitchen and garden, a lot of people scream in surprise. I take a step back, like I'm really shocked.

"I can't believe you did that." I look at Ash, wanting to see that I did well. But his expression ‘so so’ disappoints me.

“In the car it was better.” he says before walking away and letting people get closer.

I don't know how many people I hugged, but I know the only one I wanted to see was the last one to arrive. I hold my breath, seeing her in a black leather skirt and a transparent black blouse, highlighting her tattoo between her breasts.

I swallow hard, cracking a nervous smile as she approaches with a huge grin, almost jumping into my lap. Unlike yesterday, where I just got a congratulations message, M&Ms hug me, leaving a lingering kiss on my cheek.

“Happy Birthday!” the gleam in her eyes proves to me she's already a little high.

I resist the urge to steal a kiss from her lips, just kissing her cheek back but giving her waist a squeeze, pressing her against my body. She seems to notice my intent, drastically changing her breathing.

"I wanted to talk to you later. If possible.” I say against her ear.

“About?” her eyes sweep me for any clues.

“Surprise.” I reveal, seeing her roll her eyes in agreement.

I watch her walk away with the girls, but she doesn't fully break eye contact with me, looking at me from afar. I let out a breath, realizing it's going to be a long night and another long battle to resist her and the urge to take her to a dark corner.

In the kitchen, where most of the drinks are, I start my work, drinking the alcohol, enjoying the burning sensation that the liquid leaves in my throat. I get distracted with video game conversation and allow my mind to relax with lighter, more relaxed topics.

The party had been going on for a few hours. My head is already light, due to the high alcohol content my body retains. I know I'm laughing at some bullshit Brian is talking about, even though his words don't make any sense in my mind. Maybe I've already had too much to drink and it's better to stop for a while. I don't want to be sick at my own party.

The term vibrates in my mind and I start searching the crowd for the cotton candy hair, worried about her condition. The feeling pulls my head out of the air, sobering me up for a few minutes.

I find her dancing hand in hand with Noah, laughing at the older man's exaggerated steps. I stare at the scene, happy that she is enjoying herself. Unlike at the beginning of the week, Marnie is now upbeat and not acting. Maybe Irwin is right and she was just stressed about the birthday party.

I push my thoughts away, concentrating on yet another beer pong game. I've played more times than I could count and I'm starting to doubt the two arms Jack has won since my last drink.

“Problems.” Michael sings beside me, pointing to the door. Pam walked in smiling excitedly, holding hands with a guy who sure as hell didn't want to be there. It's not possible…

Sobriety hits me like a cannon. All the alcohol and smoke that was in my body is gone and I am able to think clearly for the first time since I arrived.

I massage my forehead, bringing my gaze to Marnie, who's already staring at Pam without a specific expression. I cross the room with incredible ease, reaching for her, hugging her waist, pulling her to me.

“We can talk now?” Marnie didn't even seem to hear me, still staring at Pam, who was greeting some people. "M&Ms?" I call closer to her ear, but no effect. “Hey!” I drop a kiss to her temple, squeezing her waist.

Her green eyes cross mine and I can palpate the insecurity in them. Marnie just nodded, letting me lead her out of the room. We went up to a room, being alone. I look at her face, still half lost, and I approach slowly, feeling that little box weigh tons in my pocket.

“What do you want to talk about?” she gives a slight smile, turning her full attention to me.

“First I wanted to apologize for Pam. I didn't know what she was going to come.” Marnie rolls her eyes, shrugging.

“It’s OK! No need to apologize. My head is so full I don't even care about her anymore.” she sits up in bed, crossing her legs.

“And I believe she won't even mind us today, after all, she came with someone” I sat beside her.

“Yeah! Poor guy.” I let out a laugh at her pity for the poor boy. “It was just that?”

I lose myself in her eyes for a few seconds, wondering if that's all. I draw her face in my mind once more, recording every feature I fell in love with. My lips tingle as I landed my eyes on her mouth, slightly reddened by the drink.

At another time, right now she and I would be locked in some bathroom or bedroom, succumbing to desire and the alcohol in our blood. My fingertips ache amidst the memories of all the times I have run across her skin, feeling it burn under my touch.

My mind starts to cloud and the flashes of the two of us become more and more vivid. I try to push those thoughts away, but they seem to sink into my mind with force. My body heats up with every scene my mind plays. I feel the blood running the wrong way and I don't know how to stop it.

"Luke?" I'm startled by your touch on my hand. Marnie was looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Are you okay?” I watch her hand squeeze mine, like she always did when I was angry or upset.

And just with that touch, everything stops inside me. The fire is gone and now I'm seized by a gigantic pain and rage in my chest, a rage for her being ripped from me so abruptly. I stare at her fingers moving gently, transmitting a caress throughout my body.

"Luke?" now she was looking at me extremely worried.

“Sorry. I think the drink hit.” I open a smile, trying to calm her down. M&Ms don't seem to buy much, but she smiles smugly.

“I already told you you're drinking a lot. In a little while you'll be passed out and won't even enjoy your own birthday party.” my smile widens in the midst of her care. "Don't give me that smile." she pushes my face away. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

“No!” this time I answer faster. “Actually, I wanted to give you something.” I fish the little white box in my pocket, feeling my fingers as soft as jelly. What if she doesn't like it? What if she gets angry?

“You know it's your birthday, right? You're the one who should get presents, not give. Especially for me.” she looks at me angrily, not wanting to accept the box.

"Well, it's my birthday and I'll do what I want, in which case I give it to you." I place the object in her hands. “I wanted to wait until your birthday, but it's still far away and I can't take it.” I lift my shoulders quickly, making her laugh.

Taking advantage of the fact that she was involved with the present, slowly, I move closer to her body, contenting myself with the least contact we have. I notice Marnie hold her breath at the sight of the blue quartz necklace, just like the one she had.

With no more reaction than that, I start to convince myself that I've fucked up and she hated it. It wasn't the time yet, as much as everything was going well, it wasn't the time yet.

“I can't believe you did this.” her voice comes out in a breath in surprise. I let my mind race to our first Christmas, where she gave me my necklace and I gave that star to her.

“If you don't like it…” my voice trails off as I see her eyes watery and filled with joy. It was the right time.

I'm not afraid to advance towards her, covering your lips with mine in a short kiss. The cherry taste becomes my favorite for the rest of the night. Marnie wipes her tears as she calls herself pathetic for crying.

"I know we used it as a dating ring, but it doesn't have to be-”

"Could you put it on for me?" she interrupts me, not caring about my fear. With my hands still trembling and cold, I close the necklace around her neck, enjoying the scene of her smiling enchanted by that stone. “Thanks!”

This time it is she who steps forward, stealing a kiss. The mood changes drastically. The screams outside seem to die in my ears, leaving only silence. The music that used to burst had ceased to exist.

That little kiss breaks, but she doesn't pull away, keeping her forehead still glued to mine. I'm startled when her eyes return to mine, I can see her perfectly there, in front of me, in my arms. I recognize that glow, that look and what it wanted to convey.

It was her there. The reason I get up every morning. The reason that makes me want to be better and better. The person I always want to impress. My girl. My Marnie.

I bring my hand to the back of her neck, bringing our lips together once more. I feel goose bumps as our tongues touch and her hand cups my face, holding me there. If she knew the last thing I want is to run away…

I'm surprised I feel despair on her side. The urgency on her lips. The need for the touch of her hands, the way they ran through my hair, the back of my neck and chest.

Easily, I pull her onto my lap, moaning, feeling her body against mine after so long. The fire that had previously ceased inside me, runs again through my veins, making everything too cloudy. I can't reason whether this was right or not. We both drink too much. She still hasn't given me full openness to so much attitude, even though she's still here, kissing me.

I try for a few minutes to clear my mind, to be a little rational and not get carried away by emotion, but the sound her mouth makes when I touch her neck with my lips ruins whatever train of thought I was building.

I touch the exact spots that make her moan and scramble for more friction. I watch thirstily as her eyes roll back and her lip is bitten in an attempt to control the moans. Her nails scratch the back of my neck, releasing an electric current that migrates between my legs.

I gasp when I feel her rub against my groin, spreading a current throughout my body. I want to beg her to do it again, but it's not really necessary, she knows and she does. So excruciating, but so good. Again I am startled to find that glow that I knew so much. I wonder where this Marnie was all along.

I shove my hand inside her shirt, enjoying her burning skin. I stroke the spot below her bra with my thumb, wanting not to frighten her. I suck the skin under her ear, lapping it with my tongue. My body combusts as she stirs and presses her crotch harder against mine. I cup her breast with enjoyment, hearing her call my name the way I liked it best.

Her desperate hands run inside my jacket, wanting to throw it away. I was ready to help when a heavy knock on the door disrupts our moment.

"What the fuck is it?" anger rips up my throat, causing a very angry scream. So much time to interrupt.

"It's time to cut the cake." I hear Calum's voice and feel like throwing him from the second floor.

“Serious? Stick the cake in your-” two small hands cover my mouth, preventing me from continuing.

“We're on our way, Cal.” Marnie yells louder and breathless.

I watch your body soften, lost and, I fear, even regretful. She is no longer there. She avoids looking at me, perhaps out of shame.

“It was better this way.” her sweet voice comes closer to a whisper.

“Was?” I stare at her, not wanting to accept that I was the only one to feel it. I know I wasn't, because her expression tells me I'm right.

“Was! You know it was.” her tone is still sweet, but her gaze is hard. "I think we'd better go downstairs." she gets up carefully, getting out of bed. I throw my head against my hands, visibly frustrated.

"Go ahead, I need to get both heads in place." I throw my body against the mattress.

“Sorry, Luke.” I can't stand her feeling guilty when she's the biggest victim of all this.

"M&Ms?" I leap out of bed, grabbing her before disappearing through the door. “It's not your fault. I'm the one who lost control, I'm sorry. You didn't give me the opening to attack you like that and I let myself go…” her lips silence me.

“It wasn't anyone's fault, can we do that?” I nod, stealing the last kiss before I let her go. "I'll wait for you downstairs." she announce.

I turn around, heading back to bed, still feeling frustration coursing through my veins.

“Hey!” I turn to see her there, standing in the doorway. My chest races with yearning from the many times I've seen her do the same scene. My ears and heart ache wanting to hear those words that always came next. Those three words that were so beautiful in her mouth. “Thanks for this.” she smiles and leaves.

I stare at the wood, snapping back to reality. I'm such an idiot for thinking she was going to say she loves me. I hide my face, exhausted. I look across the bed, able to see the two of us there, so given to each other.

I replay the scene in my head, tasting her kiss on my lips. Feeling my body tingle, still wanting her touch. The pressure on my pants becomes bigger and more uncomfortable. I need to make this go away. I scramble my mind for many things to calm myself down, but I can't. I can still feel her hands running around the back of my neck and her groin against mine.

"Shit!" I give up, going to the bathroom and locking myself in there. I don't care if I'm late, or what they think. I won't be able to eliminate this with thoughts alone.

I lower my pants and underwear, releasing my already throbbing member. I run my hand over it, making my body vibrate in relief. I let my mind flood with all thoughts and memories with her, feeling my body inflate further.

I increase my speed, being able to feel her touch through my body. I punch the wall, feeling my stomach contract. I rest my forehead against the cool coating, letting out several sighs. Her eyes flash in my mind.

The many times I've seen her face twist in pure orgasm under my touch. That smirk and that vulgar glow she always lets off before pulling me aside. And I always did, like a puppy.

My breathing gets out of control as I reach my orgasm. A wave of relief and lightness overcomes me, along with a wave of guilt. It must have been the 15th time since it all happened.

I can't have her. I can't stand the idea of looking for someone else, even though we are not officially together, so I have to get by with baths and my bare hands, but as a result I feel like the dirtiest human being, as she doesn't even suspect.

I walk down the stairs, not attracting any attention. I find her sitting on the couch, on Leah's lap, laughing at some imitation Ashton was doing. I approach the group, who make no fuss about my delay.

I pick up the bottle of white wine on the coffee table, flipping half the contents. I feel her green eyes burn on me and I don't even have the courage to reciprocate by ignoring her.

“Is everything OK? Sorry if I messed something up.” Hood says next.

“It's OK! In fact, it was better, if you didn't show up, we would have done something stupid.” I say dry.

"Is that why this sour face?" he raises an eyebrow.

"I'm feeling awful for almost bringing her to this and not having the conscience to stop." I reveal a part of the guilt that burns in me.

“Luke, you are not complete strangers. And maybe she really wanted to go further, she just didn't know how. After all, at that moment she was supposed to be your f-”

"I know!" I cut it off, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence.

For my salvation, someone starts to sing happy birthday and the matter is closed. I open a smile disguising the shit my head was on. Michael puts a little purple hat on my head, blowing a plastic horn, very excited.

The scene makes me laugh, relieving the stress. I watch Leah and Kyleen swing colorful pom poms behind Marnie, who is holding a small cake with several candles.

I look deep into her eyes, noticing her happiness to be there and somehow mine too. After all, she's here, even if she doesn't remember much, she's still here. The accident could have been a lot worse and I could have lost her forever.

I push the damn thoughts away, blowing out the candles and driving everyone crazy. I'm surprised when Marnie leans in, stealing a kiss, not caring that she's in front of everyone. Her rosy cheeks manage to steal a smile far bigger than Michael did.

In the back of the room, I notice Pam with her arms crossed and sulking. I don't know if Marnie did it on purpose, intent on teasing, but something she did, and if Pam is pissed off, we're happy.

The clock was already showing around 5:00 in the morning. I've already fluctuated my alcohol level more times than I can count. While the boys filled me with rum, M&Ms filled me with water and food, afraid I would go into an alcoholic coma or whatever. Of course I took advantage of her concern and all the attention she was giving me.

At some point during the party, Michael took over the DJ's table and there we were, jumping up behind him, singing I Want It That Way at the top of our lungs, with the lost girls trying to do the choreography. That was definitely the best thing about the party, right after my moment with Marnie in the bedroom.

Right after his moment commanding the party's playlist, Clifford decided to climb on the roof to jump into the pool. Something that was already taking a while to happen. What he and no one expected was Marnie yelling at him, worried.

“It's comical, because if it weren't for the amnesia and the lack of alcohol, she would be the one on the roof.” Irwin comments lying beside me, watching the scene of her yelling at Michael, asking him to come down.

“And we called the fire department because she got stuck again.” I shake my head, wanting not to laugh at the memories. “Good times.” I'm toasting my friend, still watching her worriedly behind the older one.

Sitting in the garden, talking to some friends, I watch the girl laughing in a circle with Noah and Calum. She gets up, walking into the house, returning in a few minutes. I watch her come around, stopping behind me.

“Now the one who needs to talk is me.” she whispers in my ear. I don't think twice about taking your hand and heading out of the wheel chat.

I can see a large package in her hands and the idea of being my gift makes me anxious. A little farther away from the mess that remained, she hands me the black box with a gold bow on top. Before opening it, I take a look at her excited smile, letting out a laugh.

I find five rings and three necklaces arranged around the box. I can't hold back the smile, seeing what she's chosen. I know I might look like an idiot for some jewelry, but it's amazing jewelry she picked out.

“You liked?” she bites her lower lip, curious.

“I loved!” I hug your body, thanking her. I know she has no intentions other than to give me a birthday present, but of course I will wear these rings and necklaces with more affection than usual. “Thanks.” I mean, still ecstatic.

Hand in hand, we approached the crowd again, bumping into Kiki, Sophie and Michael.

“We were thinking about going to Michael's house. The party is already boring and I'm hungry.” Kiki comments. I look a little offended at her, after all, that was my birthday party. “Oh! Nothing personal.” she laughs, slapping me on the shoulder.

“What do you think?” I ask the M&Ms, who shrug their shoulders. "Have you talked to the rest?"

“Leah was going to call Noah and Ash, we were going to rescue Calum.”

“OK! We'll get our stuff and meet you at the door.” Marnie agrees and so we disperse.

Still holding hands, we walked back upstairs, looking for her bag. In the kitchen, I grab a bottle of vodka, a tequila, and a whiskey, trying to put everything in my bag, but it doesn't quite work.

“We should take advantage of the gathering and have your liver funeral.” I turn to Marnie who glares at me, seeing three bottles in my arm and me struggling to open one of beer.

Easily, we made our way to the front door, finding Kiki and Sophie. Gradually, everyone arrived and so we left the party, without saying goodbye to anyone.

“Uh, tequila?” Hood comes towards me, hugging the bottle.

Michael's house was the closest and, having drunk too much, we thought we'd better walk.

On the way, we stopped at a bakery, buying a bunch of things to eat. The day was already showing signs of life when we arrived at Mike's house. At the dinner table, we spread out the stolen drinks and food, starting our round table, as well as picking up several board games that Michael kept.

“I wanted to propose a toast to Mr. Luke Hemmings.” Noah draws the toast, making everyone raise their glasses and bottles. “One of the few people worth meeting in this hellish city where you can't trust anyone. The other people are unfortunately not present…”

A shower of paper balls and food flies towards the 20 minutes older twin. I'm surprised when I watch Marnie leave my arms, standing up.

“I also wanted to give a speech.”

“You didn't have to, babe.” I say, shaking her hand that still had our fingers intertwined.

“It's not about you.” she sticks out her tongue, causing everyone to scream.

“Ouch!” I put my hand to my chest, accepting the blow and still feeling my heart race.

“Shut up.” she screams, laughing. “Well, I wanted to make this toast in thanks to all of you. I know it's been three years of friendship, but for me it's only been a month and even with all the confusion and breakup.” her fingers squeeze mine and I move them, giving them a light caress. “You still took me in and took great care of me. I am eternally grateful for that. Leah doesn't even start crying, I need to get this over with and if I cry it's going to go wrong.” the mood breaks a little with the laughter. “Bottom line, I just want to say that whatever the future holds, I like you all a lot and that this isn't just a bunch of crazy friendship the universe threw at me, it's the family I've been looking for. As Noah said, you're the few people worth living in this hell of a city and I love you all so much. Cheers!”

Everyone raises their glasses once more, toasting her speech. I cross my gaze with Leah, who has also noticed something odd. She still hadn't commented on Monday's episode and I still had it hanging around in my mind.

It was very visible that something was troubling her. Her eyes wandering lost, her disappearance since Monday until today, claiming to be super busy and out of time. Everyone was sensing that something was wrong, but she wouldn't let go or comment on it.

“Especially you.” I focus my attention on her, who settles back into my arms. “Regardless of our future, I like you very much.” she whispers, before pressing her lips to mine. “Please never forget that. Promise?”

I get lost in her eyes, noticing a hint of fear and pain in them. It's horrible to see her like this and not know what to do. For nothing in this world I want her to feel unprotected or alone, she said herself that we are a family, so she wouldn't have to face anything alone.

“Only if you promise me you'll tell me what's going on.” I play hard, not caring if this becomes an issue between us, or if it pushes her away a little.

“Luke…” my name comes out in a painful sigh.

"Marnie." I say her name harshly, wanting her to understand that I won't change my mind.

“I'll tell. Just not today. Today is your day and that's what matters to me. So please let's enjoy?” she begs. As always, I surrender, nodding. I drop a kiss to her forehead, before pulling her to my chest again.

Hastings still looks at me suspiciously and unfortunately I only have reason to agree with her. Something was up with Marnie and she didn't want to tell us.

A minute of silence, our baby is turning 25 today and I am not knowing how to handle it.

14 notes · View notes

hag-rambling-on · 3 years

Text

Boys hc’s feats Diaspro

Riven

Riven Cassios was born to two Omega prisoners. What surprised everyone, because staying healthy enough to carry out a pregnancy on a planet that sucks your magic is... Obviously the Rocalucce Council keeps an eye on the planet, they took him out of there because no child would pay because his parents, and he has been in foster homes, although it doesn't last long since the requirements for his adoption were more strict than most -which in the long run the Council would realize was COUNTERPRODUCTIVE for his character-. That is what Darcy detects and why the high spheres are somewhat "permissive" with him.

His mother died giving birth, it was already miraculous that she lived so long and ‘bout his father I think I'm going to kill him too, maybe. The father I assure you would be love him (he called Riven to himself Daru, his gift) thought was not his initial idea, the mother always saw him as an experiment (she was a witch who followed the Ancenstresses). Ohm, also in his blood there are dark elves and giants.

Riven surname is actually the name of the galaxy where he was born or a derivation of it, as is common for orphans. So the boy knows NOTHING about the above.

Timmy and Riven are the only specialists who have passed the full course at Fonterossa, without skips. In the end they bond about it. Timmy gives him a recommendation to work as a part-time mechanic at Magix (good boy face, he knows how to use it)

Timmy

Timeus “tshhhh, it’s Timmy.... i’m not my grandfather” fulfills the physique requisits as much as any other specialist, but it is true that his physique and abilities, adapted to the distance, give him a more "feline" air.

He is also the one who wakes up at night and moves silently, scaringthe rest of the squad if they wake up unexpectedly.

His glasses are for both sight and Aura Vision. His parents are rich enough to pay for an operation, but since he would have to wear glasses for his ability anyway, why? Practical guy.

And the glasses make people look down on him, something that when his self-esteem is high and he’s being rational and cunning he knows it’s wonderful, although many others times may hurt. He is mostly leprechaum with something human.

Nex

Nex is still a Paladin born in Lymphea and with blood of literally ALL races. He adapts well to any planet, although not its people at first. His race mix makes his face “charismatic”, like always draw attention even if people don’t know very well why they are draw.

His ability is Delay Sleep. It allows him to hold over his need to sleep for days without going crazy or losing physical capacity or needing many days to recover (he can stay awake for 5 or more days, sleep 8-10 hours and go back to being his usual self). Sometimes he does not control this well and has plenty of energy in need of drop but he is the one who has the most control of his ability.

One of his parents spent time in Rocalucce Fortress as a "guest" so at times he feels like he has something to prove.

Roy

Coming from Andros, most of the population are merpeople with a few elves and humans. which avoids the 100% aquatic population. Roy, unlike Aisha is mostly human-elf with a bit of merpeople in a grandgrandgrand level. One of his parents comes from one of the colonies on the moons of Andros and he was born there although they moved almost immediately.

Roy’s paladin ability being the canon “Triton Aura” used to breathe underwater. That and learning to swim and drive all kinds of water vehicles was what made him feel "adapted" to Andros. But he always try to be useful.

He only became a Paladin at the beginning of season 6, and it was visiting him that the season began. He’s bi but he thinks of himself as straight.

Nabu

I plead guilty to liking Nabu even though I shipped Aisha with Flora and Nex. So I have a hard time thinking about him. Except, EVERY time I try to think of something. EVERY TIME. Rapunzel. So, he will never cut his hair.

But with an island instead of a tower and a babysitter (male and wizard) more dumbledoor (not, actually more like Newt Scamander mentor like).

Sometimes he misses out on some "social customs/things/normalcies" whatever is called due to his little dealing with people. He may seem naive or that don't understand sarcasm. He understands and learns quickly, but people were very respectful to him and there are things he is not used to. 1/2 merpeople 1/4 half elf 1/4 human as both of his parents are half merpeople.

He likes to swim as much as any merpeople, but they didn't let him do it much because they were afraid he would go away or lost, so he usually went off "to the heights", going up to the rooftops and things like that.

Helia

Helia is trans but keeps his first name as chosen name which I don’t understand. Also he has formally tried study practically everything he wanted. Specialist, Paladin, Wizard (of Threads). Painter.

He can't make up his mind, his family hurries him just to STOP making them dizzy and spend a few years with everything -and actually end a single “major” choice- he wants to experience, that he has a very long life and can dedicate a few decades to Everything and they can support them. Well, more or less, but he was vip pass to all these options because family connections.

Long story about Sky, Brandon and Dia.

Sky, Brandon and Diaspro's first meeting was a show. Has it all. Costumes, lies. Confusion. Kidnapping. And that is why Diaspro insists on the wedding (I would like to mention that although I don’t know her romantic orientation yet surely bi or lesbian, here, Dia is asexual. And Sky is non-binary but his parents do not approve so go for he/him to avoid problem with them. And here our story begins)

A bit of background. Brandon actually hails from Isis, the son of the military and was chosen by the whimsical chibi!Diaspro as a playmate and future personal guard (because then she believed that touching children gave "lice" and her character and age did not have the 18like wall of royal education, then in a random encounter he called her among many things what Dia's mind translated in a strange way "uncracked geode", which is a double-edged compliment in Isis that many would not accept from strangers but she liked it). Rarely they would end up becoming friends in the end. When the series begins, Brandon and Diaspro keep up with calls, which will prevent Dia's reaction with Bloom on the one hand.

On a visit (officially only from the kings of Erakyon to to the kings of Isis) for the children to get to know each other, somehow, they all ended up happily dressing up, with Sky and Dia looking like two pretty princesses and Brandon assessing whether his dress would be green or yellow because Diaspro insisted that she and Sky had already taken the blue and red and so it would be more "thematic".

Here began the first of many attacks on Sky's head, because before it had begun to be rumored (true) that Erendor had fertility problems (btw his race dwarf-high elf and Samara is leprechaum-high elf, Sky gots mostly high elf part). When they came in and saw two girls and a boy, Brandon, not the highest IQ, but one of the wisest of his team and definitely the best fighter, played along so he ended up pretending to be Sky (also helps that his hair colors looks like Erendor) Everything worked out well in the end, although Brandon ended up as Sky's squire (better for him, worse for Diaspro), and Diaspro made Sky promise that he owed her a big favor. Anyway they grew up over the years in friendship and they both knew they were not of each other's true love interest, but, they could put up with each other (because that's what royalty does).

Sky and Diaspro have a sonorous (affectionate) war over Sky's hair to annoy/exasperate Brandon. Diaspro always complains that he doesn't grow it and it would look great then. Sky says that he is fine as with his hair at it is (it's actually Erendor's thing). The soft part of Diaspro that she doesn't usually show off has taught Sky many ways to style his hair and subtly put on makeup to look more feminine if he wants to.

How I am amused by that image from wikipedia and that Diaspro entered Sky's guard so quickly. Another headcanon is that Diaspro would sometimes change her appearance a bit and go into Sky's guard to be with Brandon to annoy him and Sky, when Brandon has to talk about her without giving details, she is simply "his sister Charbonne" (she hates that alias). They were discovered when she was 15 years old but she had already trained and the royal families considered it a sign to formalize the engagement since “they search each other” (people only sees what they wants).

The Diaspro family is not good, first Brandon was a shield (emotional) because as a child they were not “that” bad and then Sky joined him (physically and politically), handling things with Bloom so like that was not a good idea when the floor was full of cracked bottles.

... omg i’m sorry you three i’m sorry what I did to you

Also, Brandon's ability as a green user is very interesting and helps with this a lot. I temporally call it “Keypoint Warning” and I like it a lot, it's like a "tic" that tells him "be careful, what you say, what you do now, even the smallest thing could change everything for youself (for better or for worse)”. He actually has a scar on his forehead (not a lightning bolt) that his hairstyle hides after “that” day but a little less fine on the words and the kidnappers might have broken his mouth so... His parents have been cured (spoiler: no) of heart attack since then.

#winx #winx club #rewinxing #winx rewrite #winx specialists #winx paladins #winx timmy #winx brandon #winx riven #rambling about winx #winx helia #winx sky #winx roy #winx nabu #winx nex #winx diaspro

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whatanoof · 3 years

Text

Luck Be the Lady Tonight

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Reader

Word Count: ~4.4k

Content: blood, violence, fluff, death, gods who like to fuck around with peoples' minds, oh did I mention swearing yet?

Prequel to I Wished For Your Happiness

Dawn filters across the sky like the coming of the tide. It pushes into the inky twilight gradually, so slowly that one doesn’t notice the changing colors until it’s in full swing. Reds and oranges and yellows and the slightest hint of pink streak across the clouds and chase away every memory of the previous night.

Not that you were awake to see it of course, Max made sure of that last night when he exhausted you with… um… certain activities. But shortly after the dawn, the door to the bedroom creaks, waking you from peaceful sleep to the drowsy world of the waking. The creak is the only warning you get before the seven-year-old boy equivalent of a mortar shell drops onto the covers, bouncing the bed violently and bringing weak protests from the man under the covers to your left.

You thank every star in the faded night sky that Max had the awareness to redress both you and him last night before falling asleep. Good luck.

“Good morning!”

Max groans sleepily and pulls the covers over his head, “Alistair…”

You smile and blink blearily, “Good morning, Alistair.” You stretch under the covers luxuriously, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Come on, come on! We have to go soon!” Every other word is accompanied with another bounce on the sheets, and you wince. Ali is pretty much situated completely on top of the Max-sized lump under the blankets, and that can’t feel good.

“Okay,” You laugh, sneaking out from under the sheets. “Come on, let your dad sleep in just a little bit more. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Silvia usually makes eggs,” You nod. Silvia is Alistair’s nanny that accompanies him back and forth between his parents, but you had given her the weekend off. It was her twenty first birthday, and you only turn twenty-one in America once.

So you decided to take time off too, and to take Alistair for a day on the town. Max had been more reluctant to take the day off, but you’d pestered him until he’d given in. And you’d promised him a weekend of nighttime fun in return, so who was he to deny you? “But I want pancakes!”

You laugh, “Pancakes it is! Chocolate chip, or strawberry?” You don’t even have to ask, you already know that Alistair is going to pick chocolate. That child is just like his father: a ridiculous sweet tooth and too adorable for you to say no to.

You’re halfway through the mixed pancake batter, and Alistair is most of the way through his second pancake by the time Max stumbles into the kitchen, hair mussed and eyes half-open without coffee. It’s a struggle to hide the giggle that threatens to burst from your throat, but you manage and pass him the steaming mug that’s been sitting by the stove to keep warm.

“Woman, you are a true goddess.”

“I know. No need to feed my complex.” You smile as Max hugs you from behind and buries his nose into the crook of your neck before going to sit beside his son.

“Big day planned?”

“Yep.” You flip the last pancake onto the plate. It’s a little crooked, but passable considering your normal amount of cooking talent. “Sight-seeing, museums, walking around…”

“And parks!” Alistair interjects, “And the airplane museum!”

“Of course the airplane museum!” You place the dishes in the sink and pick up your own plate, “You coming, Lorrie?”

“Have some work to do, but I’ll be done before noon.” His shoulders hunch even as you stare him down. “Promise, baby. Something came up right before I left the office last night. It’s urgent.” You raise a single eyebrow at him, and he raises his hands in mock surrender, “I didn’t plan on it. Bad luck, that’s all.”

“I--” You level the dirty spatula at him, “--will take your word for it, Lorrie.”

He grins and stands, taking the kitchen tool from you and gently placing it in the sink. “Thank you, my love.” He folds your hand into both of his and kisses the tip of your nose, and you giggle as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Gross!” Alistair claps both of his hands over his eyes. You and Max laugh together as he detangles himself from you.

“I am going to get dressed.” Max grins at you rakishly before walking over to his son, who still has his hands covering his face. “And you--” He taps Alistair on the nose, and Ali giggles as Max leans in and gives him a hug. “--have a good day at the airplane museums.”

---

The minute you step into the Metropolis Space Museum, Alistair is heads over heels in love. You truly can’t believe that it took the kid seven years to get to the most iconic airplane museum in the city that he grew up in, but his childhood wasn’t exactly normal. You understand Max’s work ethic and schedule all too well, having parents who were workaholics as well. So when you’d first met the starry eyed little kid, you’d silently promised yourself that he was going to have a better childhood than you. You’re not his mother or his nanny, but Max is a dedicated father. And you’ll be dedicated to this kid too.

Alistair sprints through the museum with all of the speed of The Flash himself, and it’s all you can do to keep up with the little ball of energy. You wonder how he’s able to even take in the aircraft with the combination of the speed and his small stature, but this is his day, and you’re just the chauffeur.

He finally hits a wall when he reaches the astronaut exhibit. You’re walking among the space shuttles when you find Alistair gazing up at the Artemis I craft.

“See something you like?” You stop beside Ali and grin down at him. He hasn’t ripped his eyes away from the craft, and you can see the fluorescent lighting reflecting in his dark eyes. You turn to admire the shuttle again.

“That.” Alistair only speaks the one word, and you raise an eyebrow down at him. He’s pointing, “I want to be able to fly in that when I grow up.”

You chuckle, “It’s possible. You work hard, and you can be an astronaut when you grow up.”

“Work hard like Daddy?”

“Yes. Just like your Daddy.” Your gaze softens as you look down at the boy, seeing shades of his father in his determined expression. You check the time on your phone, “Speaking of, he should be meeting us soon. Wanna grab a snack, then we can go see him?”

You can see Ali’s obvious reluctance to leave the exhibit. “Alistair, ice cream…” You trail off with a teasing grin as Alistair turns.

“Yes please!”

You grin, “Alright! Come on.”

Alistair speeds ahead yet again, and your phone buzzes. You take it out, and it’s from work. You send a text off to your partner as you reach the stairs.

Your heel hits the edge of the step wrong. Your heart drops in your chest as you pitch forward, your arms wheeling in the air. A scream lodges in your throat as you fall forwards down the steps.

You land hard on your chest and you feel a stabbing pain in your chest as the air is knocked clean out of your body. Alistair screams your name, and you roll over to find the gazes of dozens of concerned strangers fixated on you as Alistair rushes to you.

“Are you okay?” A woman crouches over you.

You chuckle dryly, the air coming back to your body in small increments. Embarrassment floods your cheeks with heat, “Yeah, missed that last step. Bad luck, huh?”

“Good luck that it was the last flight. Could have been much worse.” She straightens and extends a hand to help you to your feet. “Anything hurt?”

“Besides my pride? No, I’m fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me.” You accept her help and stand, wincing at the residual pain in your chest. You remember what you’d distracted with that led to the misstep, “Where’s my phone?”

Alistair holds his hand out with a solemn look on his face. He’s holding your shattered phone, “I think it’s broken.”

You sigh. Bad luck. “Thank you Alistair. And thank yo--” You turn, but the woman is gone. Huh. Interesting. You look all around you at the bustling crowd, but no one looks familiar, and all of the gapers have gone back to their business. You prop your hands on your hips, “Well. How about some ice cream now?”

---

Max’s brow furrows as he stares down at the glinting ring. A twenty-four karat gold band, platinum setting with tiny obsidian studs and a diamond the size of a pistachio. The ring is exactly his style, and it’s the ring that he always imagined himself buying for the hypothetical girl that he would have if he ever got his work done. But ever since meeting you, he’s been learning to remember that his likes aren’t necessarily the likes of the others.

For example, you don’t like flashy. Which is ridiculous, because his entire existence is flashy, so he can’t begin to imagine how you ever were attracted to him. The memory of your first meeting draws a grin to his lips. But now he knows better after a couple of botched Valentines and anniversary gifts. Your look of horror at the massive bouquet of flowers and yards of chocolate will be forever seared into his mind. Flashy and gaudy is a big no no, though maybe he can make the proposal a little more to his tastes. His gaze is drawn to another ring to his right.

“Excuse me?” The sales associate comes over to him. “Can I see that one?”

---

“Alright, you don’t tell your dad, and I won’t tell either.” You plop the massive ice cream cone into Alistair’s hand before settling down next to him with a cone of similar size.

Alistair grins mischievously at you, “This is a lot of sweets for one day.”

“Ah!” You hold up your free hand, effectively silencing the kid, “Snitches…?”

“Get stitches!” With that, Ali digs into his chocolate fudge cone with sprinkles, and you start with yours, gazing at the city across the water. The beach is empty on an early spring day that is much too cold for swimming. Seagulls screech across the sky, and the sand looks fun and inviting, but Ali seems content to sit beside you on a bench and look across the water at Gotham City.

The sun is shining, the water is glowing in the afternoon sun, and it’s a perfect afternoon. Until an explosion rocks the building that you’d been admiring in Gotham City across the bay and the miniscule figure of a supervillain appears as a shadow in the dust. You sigh. Bad luck. “View ruined.”

Alistair shrugs, “Pretty. Big booms are cool.”

“Since when do you like explosions?”

Alistair looks up at you, and makes a zooming motion with his hand before mimicking a takeoff with massive engine explosions. Oh. Right.

You finish your ice cream and reach for your phone to check the time before remembering that it’s broken. “Hey, Ali. What time is it?”

He shows you with his little digital watch, and it’s half past noon. Max is probably looking for you. You rummage in your pocket for some change, and pull out the coins to count them. Oh good, you have a quarter left over from the ice cream cones.

“Come on, we’re going to find a pay phone.” Alistair stands and follows you off of the beach and towards the street.

Only, I shit you not, a chunk of building hits the water with a boom near shore, and water explodes into the sky like a geyser. Debris scatters the beach, and you wince as you see the amount of rocks that hit the bench where you had been sitting not five minutes before. You stare for a split second, then over at Gotham, where you can see the supervillain hefting cement chunks over his head and lobbing them at a speck in the sky. That’s an interesting combination of luck that you’re not sure you want to dissect mentally at the moment.

Alistair whines, “How did we miss Superman in the sky?!”

---

Max walks out of the museum, squinting in the sun as he fumbles in his pocket for his phone. You’d said that you would be at the museum until afternoon, but he’d waited at the entrance for an hour and you and Ali never came out. He calls you, but the line rings to voicemail.

The little velvet box weighs heavy in his breast pocket. It almost feels like it is burning a hole in his chest with how hyper aware he is of the promise pressing on his chest. He can’t even remember when he woke up feeling like this. Well, of course he only recognized the feeling today, but he’s been feeling it for sometime now. That swelling in his chest when he looks at you, the one that seems to increase everytime he sees you with Alistair, or when you’re laughing, or when you raise that single infuriating eyebrow that communicates every feeling of skepticism within your body. It’s been building over the past years, it’s not new. The label is new, it’s the one that he realized this morning after you got up and promised Alistair pancakes for breakfast.

He’s ready to make this promise. He’s ready to swear to spend the rest of his life with you. Now, if only he could find you. Bad luck, it would seem.

His phone rings right as he pulls it out of his pocket, and he glances at the caller ID. It’s you, and he swipes the ‘answer’ icon excitedly and raises the phone to his ear.

“Hey, I’m at the museum, where are you?”

You sound a little harried, “A payphone near Stryker Beach. Sorry, my phone’s busted up, so I couldn’t tell you that we left the museum.”

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll come get you. Give me an address.” He swipes around on his phone until he gets to his maps, but he’s interrupted by a resounding boom on the other end of the line. “What was that?”

“Nothing. There’s another Gotham villain, and Superman is fighting him over the bay. On second thought, you probably shouldn’t come here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you two could be in danger.” He already has the car keys in his hand when you cut him off.

“Lorrie.” Your voice is every bit as intimidating over the phone as it is in real life. “Stay there. Traffic is awful over here anyway, we could walk to the museum and back twice by the time you get through it. See you in a few.” He can’t wait, excitement thrilling in his chest even as worry tamps it down a little.

---

His palms are sweating. Why are his palms sweating? He hasn’t been this nervous since his first kickstarter campaign for Black Gold Corporations. He’s scanning the crowd for any sign of you and Alistair, though he’s simultaneously dreading your appearance as much as he’s anticipating it.

There! He sees a flash of your hair through the mass of people, and then you’re standing on the other side of the major street, gorgeous and windswept and smiling at him while holding Alistair’s hand. Cars whizz through the intersection, but even the minor interruptions in his line of sight to you can’t detract from your beauty. Fuck, he’s nervous,

So nervous, apparently, that he fumbles his phone and drops it on the sidewalk. As he bends over to pick it up, the velvet box slips out of his pocket and falls to the ground with a small thunk that may as well have been the impact sound of a meteor.

His gaze darts up nervously at you, and your eyes are glued to the small black box. They flick back to his, and read the nerves as clear as the day. Understanding floods through your face, then shock, then your mouth falls open and he can hear your joyful laugh from where he crouches twenty feet away.

Shit. He had wanted to do it differently. Maybe by the massive fountain, or on the Ferris Wheel by the bay. Something that brings a little bit of pizzazz and flash and romance, something that is distinctly him. But he sees the giddy look in your eye and everything else falls away.

The pedestrian sign flicks on, and the rest of the crowd starts moving across the street, pushing you and Alistair with the flow of people. Your hand still firmly grasps Ali’s as you move across the street, and his heart fills at the sight of your love for his son and steadies his hand as he picks up the box and opens it towards you. His knees bend, and he sinks to the hard concrete, awaiting your approach.

His knee is centimeters away from the sidewalk when a swoosh echoes overhead and Superman rips through the intersection. The crowd tracks him with a rush of murmurs, but you’re still watching Max and walking forward with a spark in your eye.

Then the gunfire starts. Everyone ducks as Lex Luthor’s latest mech suit flies overhead in pursuit of the flying hero. Bullets whizz through the air, pinging off of telephone poles and shattering windows. You’re only a fraction behind the crowd, your eyes widening in panic as you finally notice your surroundings. Max is frozen in time, watching you cover Alistair with your own body. Bad luck.

Then the spell breaks, and everyone is running and screaming, and Max’s heart rises into his throat. He loses sight of you in the middle of the road, and he stumbles to his feet and begins shoving through the crowd.

“Alistair!” He screams your name too, but his voice is lost in the surrounding noise.

Finally, finally, he catches sight of your hunched form in the middle of the road. Right as he sees you, your head raises and begins scanning around you, and he allows himself to breathe. Good luck.

He grabs your arm and yanks you to your feet, his other hand securing around Alistair’s upper arm. Then he’s moving and dragging you to the other side of the street. You’re almost there, you’re almost safe when the explosion happens.

It’s small, a stray thermal charge that’s miniscule compared to the previously witnessed destruction. But a shudder passes through your group. Max’s heart sinks in his chest and he turns to look. Alistair is staring up at you with a look of complete horror on his face. Your hand lets go of Max’s, drifting up to your chest where a bloodstain is rapidly spreading over your chest. Your eyes meet Max’s, and then your eyes roll back in your head and you pass out.

---

The ambulance ride is a blur. Alistair is crying into his chest, and it’s all Max can do to keep it together while he holds your hand. You’re still unconscious, but the ambulance had gotten there fast, and you’d been one of the only casualties in the intersection. Hope. He has to hope, because he has to hold it together for Ali.

Words float around his head from the paramedics, words like random, ricochet, shrapnel, and bad luck. Bad luck. Fury swells in him. Your life is worth more to him than simple bad luck. Villain or hero, how can it matter? Who gave them the right to leave charges in public places, to scatter bullets like rice on a wedding day?

But what can he do about simple bad luck? What can he do about super-powered people who hold the power of gods in their hands? The answer is nothing, not right now anyway, because Alistair needs him, and you need him, and he will bide his time.

---

You wake up when the ambulance gets to the hospital. The gurney jostles as they lift you down from the ambulance and he wants to yell at the paramedics. But he holds himself back. Your voice echoes in his head, ‘They’re just trying to do their jobs, Lorrie. Leave them alone.”

So he does, clinging to you as your eyelids flutter. “Lorrie?” Your voice is a painful rasp that hurts in his own chest. You tighten your grip, bringing your interlocked hands up against your chest, slightly to the right of the roughly bandaged wound.

“I’m here.” He grips your hand all the more tightly, pressing a kiss to your knuckle. You murmur something, and he doesn’t catch it the first time. He leans in, “What? Say it again, baby.”

“Yes.” You whisper into his ear. With shaking hands, Max takes out the little black box and puts the ring on your bloody finger. It’s a simple gold band, curling around a teardrop onyx gem. Perfectly you and him. You only have time to lift your hand to gaze at the ring before you're whisked away to surgery. Max is left standing there with empty hands, feeling like the world has been yanked from his grasp.

---

When you wake up again, the world is sterile and cold and Max is gone. Your hand instantly flies to your chest, where the phantom wound throbs. But your hand grazes over nothing but your own skin and clothes. A glance downwards confirms your suspicions. The wound is gone, the ugly shrapnel vaporized as if it never existed.

But the glance down confirms another suspicion that only just started brewing in the back of your mind, one that you hadn’t dared to confront.

“Am I dead?” Your eyes widen in shock, and you reach to touch your lips. They hadn’t moved, and yet you had heard your own voice echoing into the void. You whip around, your toes hovering above the surgical table where your body rests. Surgical tools scatter around the trays, and the monitor emits a continuous, flat tone. Doctors lay down their tools, taking off their masks and caps with an air of exhausted defeat. Your body is still, covered in tubes and sheets so that you can barely see a hint of gray skin. Fuck, Max is going to be devastated.

“In a way.” The voice is wonderfully melodic, and you look to find that one of the doctors is staring at you while the rest look right through you. Her mask is still up, but there is a familiar air about her that you can’t place. “You are caught in-between right now, unable to move on, but unable to return.”

“So, purgatory?” Again, your disembodied voice speaks the words directly from your mind.

She laughs, and the tinkle settles somewhere deep in your soul. “No. Powers of another sort, past the Catholic tradition.”

You work your jaw, testing it before mouthing the words along with your voice. It just feels right, more natural. “I don’t understand. I’m trapped here?”

“Not trapped. Suspended, perhaps.” Her eyes are a piercing gray. “The Lords’ refuse to let you go. One might say that it’s luck. Good or bad, depending on if you are scared of what’s after. I hear you and Maxwell like to keep count.”

You blink. She’s right. You and Lorrie had a running joke that bad luck seemed to follow the both of you wherever you went. Today had been especially heavy with bad luck. “And if I’m not scared?”

“Luck is entirely dependent on perspective, child. But, I will admit, your death was more accident than anything.” There’s a cold, callous tone in her voice as she remarks about your death as no more than a minor inconvenience. “Couldn’t have been avoided, and that’s true bad luck.” Her brow furrows, then it lightens and she claps her hands, “But, good luck now! You get to go back!”

Your spirits lift. Back to Earth. Back to Alistair and Max. Max. You bring your right hand up in front of you. The ring is gone.

“Missing something?”

Your gaze darts back up to the woman, and she’s holding the ring to the false light, examining it closely. You try to keep the tremor out of your voice, “That’s mine. Give it back.”

She gives you a long side-eye, “You do not command me, girl.” You shudder at the tone of her voice, vibrating through your non-existent body and threatening to dissipate it. You grit your teeth, and continue to stare her down. She raises an eyebrow, and you think that it’s a look of approval in her eyes. “But, I suppose it is yours. Catch.” She tosses the band back to you, and you snatch it from the air. She continues, “Consider that my token to you. A favor from luck itself. Not many mortals ever gain such an item.”

“I don’t care what it is to you.” You only care about what it means to you and Max. It’s a promise. There had been a shared understanding in the emergency room, that you probably wouldn’t make it. And that understanding had been correct. But he promised anyway, and you’d promised him right back. “Who are you?”

“Lady Luck, at your service.” She winks, pulling her mask down finally. It’s the woman from the museum, but there’s a different air about her. An air of power that didn’t exist back on Earth hovers in her every word and motion.

A chime echoes through the air, and Lady Luck straightens. “That’s my cue. Don’t worry, you won’t remember this encounter when you wake up on Earth.”

“What was the point of this conversation if I’m not going to remember it?”

She looks back at you with a hint of humor in her eyes. “There wasn’t one. Just me testing out my wisdom on a mortal. Don’t get much chance for that anymore.”

“Any last wisdom then?” Your lips twist in a wry grin.

Lady Luck regards you, “Luck isn’t everything. But it isn’t nothing. Remind your Lorrie of that for me.” Then she turns and waves her hand, and the world filters to blackness around you.

A/N: This made me sad, but it was actually pretty fun to write and play around in the DC universe. I don't get over there much, it's mostly Marvel over in Oofville these days. But yes, now I'm expanding this universe as well too, because it's not like I don't already have enough WIP yet. It's fine, it's all going to be fine.

But Max's planning for the engagement?! Gave me life, it made me so happy.

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#maxwell lord x reader #death #angst #sad feels #fluff #gods are kinda bitches in fake universes

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tew1122 · 4 years

Text

Cigars and Singlets

Huge thanks to @vcmdr who provided the pictures for this story. I wrote it with his help and domination.It was very fun (and arousing process). Can’t wait to see him evolve further into a cigar pig. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Josh was screwed. His grades slipped for one class and he lost his academic scholarship.

His only hope was a sports scholarship, but he wasn’t very athletic. He knew some of the coaches would take a few newbies to add to team numbers or to serve as assistant coaches.

Josh ran from office to office and asked various coaches if they would be willing to help him. They all declined. The football coach even laughed at him.

His one last chance was the wrestling coach, who is apparently very peculiar about his assistant coaches and hasn’t chosen one yet.

Josh caught the grizzled man as Coach was getting into his car to leave for the day. Coach was in his 50s, with the bulk of his years in the gym. Coach was known for his different sense of style. He rejected the chinos and polos of his colleagues. Instead, he wore large boots and a closed leather jacket when he wasn’t in a singlet of his own for practices. He had a beard a little more grown out then Josh’s, and short salt and pepper hair. Josh’s gay roommate had described coach more than once as “Daddy “ and, now that he had a good look, Josh agreed he was a handsome man.

Josh explained his plight to coach and begged him to take him on. Offering to workout constantly to become a proper wrestler. To study the holds day and night. To follow a strict diet regimen. Whatever it took.

Coach looked at Josh and seemed to contemplate his request. After a few minutes, when Josh thought he was gonna answer, Coach instead took out a cigar and lighter from his leather jacket and lit it up. Josh watched the red ember glow and dim repeatedly as Coach took slow, careful draws. He found himself unable to look away from the bright puffing as twilight set in through Coach’s office window. Josh thought he should say something, but knew better than to speak out of turn. Coach was his last chance, and besides, as the ember of Coach’s cigar bobbed up and down, Josh found himself less and less nervous. If Coach was relaxed enough to smoke, why shouldn’t he relax too?

Suddenly, Coach broke the silence: “Strip”.

Josh took a second to snap out of staring at the cigar and looked at Coach, confused.

“I want to see your muscles boy, take off your shirt.”4

Josh had a fleeting thought that this, too, was odd, but it made sense. Coach had to see his body. He needed to know what he was signing on for. Josh needed the position more than Coach needed Josh, after all.

“Oh...okay.”

“That’s okay, Sir” Coach reprimanded.

“Right, sorry Sir “

Josh took off his shirt and blushed. His frame was not impressive at all, especially against this much older man. He was thin and wiry. He knew this was a long shot--there was a reason he saved the wrestling coach for last. Still, there were weight classes in wrestling, right? Maybe he could sneak by in the ultra-light-feather class, or whatever it was called.

“Not a lot to work with.” Coach said as he stood up from his desk and circled Josh like a vulture, eyeing him up and down as he puffed on the cigar. The smoke had started to fill the room at this point.

The cigar smoke invaded Josh’s nostrils. The bitter scent made him hazy, and his eyes started watering a bit. Coach was mumbling something as he circled him, but Josh couldn’t make out the words. All Josh could think about was that this large, confident man was in control of his future. Coach’s eyes were boring into him. He felt like his soul was being exposed.

Coach finally stopped in front of Josh.

“You’d need a lot of work. You’re more boy than man. Are you willing to be useful to me to prove your sincerity?”

Maybe it was the desperation turning into a flicker of hope, or maybe it was his exhaustion combined with the cigar smoke, but he wanted to please Coach. Not just for his credit and degree, but because Coach was this paragon of masculinity. He was so self-assured. So powerful. Touch, and strong. Josh hoped he could learn from him and stop being boyish.

“Yes Sir, I will be useful”

“Good boy” coach blew more smoke into Josh’s face. He didn’t find the smell as strong or unpleasant as last time--his future was in Coach’s hands, now. He felt calm for the first time all day. Relaxed. Coach had saved him from his worries.

“Prove your dedication by licking my boots, boy.”

Josh froze. Lick his boots? That’s not normal wrestling stuff. Was this a joke? A test? Initiation?

Coach took another drag and blew more smoke straight into Josh’s face, scattering his thoughts. “Lick Coach’s boots, boy”

With his resistance scattered by the smoke and his free will hazy by the smell. Josh’s thought process was simple.

He must please coach.

Coach ordered him to lick his boots.

Josh will lick Coach’s boots.

Josh got down on his knees, still shirtless, and began using his tongue to clean Coach’s large leather boots. The mud on his tongue felt weird but it felt good to obey Coach. He knows he wants to please coach, so this must feel good.

After finishing his first cigar of the evening, Coach had Josh get up. His boots were clean for the last 15 minutes but he wasn’t going to let that fact interrupt his cigar.

“Good boy. You proved you’re obedient, now you need to prove you’re useful. I am going to do some work in my garage tonight, and you’re going to help. Think of it as your first workout. You’re going to drive so I can enjoy another cigar in the car.”

“Yes Sir!” Josh was elated. He has proven his first task successfully, and now Coach wants to invite him over. Professors and staff only invited students they’re close with to their homes, so this is great. Maybe he can get a look inside Coach’s house and see how a real man lives, so he could imitate it at home.

The car was an old but cared for vehicle. Josh was ordered to put his shirt back on for the drive. Coach said he didn’t feel like driving and made Josh drive, joking that he’s gonna be his personal chauffeur.

Meanwhile Coach took his own shirt and jacket off and lit another cigar, as he press play on the CD player, which started emitting some strange electronic music. The beat made it easy to drift off and focus on the road. After a few minutes, something else entered Josh’s senses. It was a mixture of cigar smoke trapped in the car and coach’s musk.

“Sir can I open a window? It’s getting kinda stuffy in here.”

“You may not boy. Is my cigar smoke bothering you?”

“Just a little Sir.”

“Pull over”

Josh’s heart sank as he moved to the side of the empty road. He hoped that his comment didn’t cost him this opportunity. He was worried about his scholarship, his future, and most importantly disappointing this stud of a man.

“Alright boy, so you want to join the wrestling team.”

“Yes Sir, I want to join your team.”

“And the wrestling team needs strong, testosterone filled men, not boys “

“Yes Sir. Wrestlers must be strong men.”

“So I’m going to have to make you a man, correct boy?”

“Yes Sir, please Sir. I don’t think I can do it without your guidance.”

Josh was surprised at the strength of his conviction. But he knew he was right. Without an alpha man like coach to take him under his wing he’d always be weak. He HAD to please Coach, so that he could remake him in his image.

“And who smokes cigars, boys or men?”

Josh knew that no one would call coach a boy, and he was smoking now. He was a boy, and he wasn’t smoking.

“Men smoke cigars, Sir “

“So you’re going to need to get used to cigars and musk in order to be a man. Is that right?”

“Yes sir, I will need to get used to cigars and musk”

“Good boy. Now take a big inhale and repeat after me: I like cigar smoke and musk.”

Coach said, blowing his smoke into Josh’s face once again.

Josh inhaled the bitter cloud and tried not to cough. He felt himself changing , starting to enjoy the smell and haziness. He started to pick up on the subtle notes of cedar and cinnamon. It was hot and bitter, yet smooth. Coach’s own smell intermingled to give it a sort of tangy flavor in his mouth. ”I like cigar smoke and musk,Sir”

Coach blew another cloud onto Josh.

“You like Coach's cigar smoke and musk.”

After Coach said this he turned up the volume on the radio.

The music combined with the haze was making it hard to concentrate. Josh tried to consider if he did enjoy coaches musk- does he need this po- is coach coming onto-. Fuck, the heavy beats pounding at his brain wouldn’t let him finish a thought. Fuck it, he decided. Just fuck thinking for tonight and obey Coach.

“I like your cigar smoke and musk, Sir.”

“Good boy. You also like pleasing me and being called a good boy.”

“ I like pleasing you and being a good boy Sir.”

Josh repeated those three facts and inhaled smoke clouds until they were seared into his brain. A mental rebranding by three important metaphorical cigar nubs. After half an hour of this brainwashing, Coach took another large drag of his cigar, but instead of exhaling it he grabbed Josh and kissed him on the lips, pushing the smoke inside of him.

Josh was very confused for a second, but he was getting a strong taste of coaches musk and cigar smoke, which is good; and he was obeying the coach, which is good. So clearly kissing Coach is good. It definitely made Josh feel good.

It felt even better when the coach edged his cock and ordered Josh to lick his pits. Josh was enjoying the sweaty smell of coaches musk wrapped up into the cigar smoke, but now he is getting a full blast of manhood. He enjoys Coach’s musk, which is good; and he is pleasing Coach, which is good. So licking Coach’s body must be good.

After a thorough pit cleaning and smoke session, Coach ordered Josh to continue driving.

Josh felt good obeying the coach. His brain was so full of smoke he didn’t really hear Coach’s quiet whispers too well. Something about “obedient jock” and “smoke pig.” He didn’t know what that meant, but it was okay. Coach knew, and that was all that mattered.

After a little while longer they arrived at Coach’s house in the suburbs. A bit on the smaller end but it looked like a perfectly vanilla white suburban home.

Josh parked the car outside and Coach opened the garage, guiding Josh inside. Coach lit another cigar in the messy garage. It was filled with assorted boxes, garbage and junk.

Coach explained “junk from the last owner of the house, a hoarder. I’m planning on turning the garage into a cigar lounge and home gym.”

Coach blew a cloud of smoke into Josh’s face. This one was much stronger and bitter. Josh’s sinuses burned as he inhaled the smoke like he was taught. He knew even though it hurt to inhale, it was necessary to be a man. “Start throwing out everything here. It’s 10pm, you have till sunrise.”

Josh got to work, lifting and moving the trash out. Lifting and moving the trash out. And repeating. Over and over. His muscles started to strain and his shirt got coated with sweat. It hurt, but he started to develop his own musk, which felt good. Not as good as Coach’s musk but it was a start.

Whenever Josh would slow down, or ask for water or to use the bathroom Coach would stand up, take a large puff of the cigar, and kiss Josh, showing the smoke down his lungs. The smoke would make him forget his exhaustion.

At 4 am, Josh was coated in sweat, sleep deprived, and dehydrated, but the garage was finally empty. Josh felt very light headed from the ordeal, as well as all the smoke from the coach's cigar, by now heavy and starting to settle in the garage.

All Josh could think about is that he obeyed Coach, and how good that made him feel. He felt rock hard, pleasing Coach, smelling his musk and cigar smoke.

Coach finished his cigar at around the same time. This time he pulled up two of them.

“You’ve done a good job boy. You’re part of the team. Here’s the cigar to seal the deal “

“Thank You Sir! “ Josh said, as he clamped the cigar in his jaw. It tasted strong but Josh was so happy he can be like Coach. He knelt on the floor in front of him as his cigar was lit. He puffed it to life, as for the first time he tasted the bitter spice and intricate flavor of the tobacco.

The cigar smoke filled Josh’s exhausted brain. It felt so good as it finished the corruption coach started. He wasn’t used to smoking cigars so it was a bit awkward and his smoke clouds weren’t very impressive, but Coach helped him by blowing smoke in his direction. Coach was always helping him. He owed everything to Coach.

Coach told Josh to focus on how good serving him feels, and how manly he feels smoking the cigar. The control he felt with a cigar clenched in his jar. How strong the smoke was, and how strong he felt. The force of blowing out a smoke cloud. The power of the cigar. Josh was getting harder and harder as his mind got emptier.

“Repeat after me, boy:

“You enjoy smoke and musk”

“I enjoy smoke and musk, Sir”

“You’re a cigarpig and love it”

“I’m a cigarpig and fucking love it”

“You’re my jock”

“I’m your jock, Sir”

“You will do whatever I say”

“I will do whatever you say, Sir”

“Good boy “

“As you smoke that cigar, your old personality will burn up with it. Ashes of tobacco leaf are ashes of character. You’ll be empty for me to fill up with wrestling and cigars. “

Josh smiled, knowing that Coach will recreate him. Turn him from his weak self into a real cigar smoking wrestling man. He puffed on the cigar eagerly. As the minutes passed and ashes fell to the concrete floor, Josh felt his personality slip away, like Coach said. His memories stayed, but he didn’t care about classical literature or good grades anymore. He no longer found video games interesting. His interest in women faded away too.

Finally, the cigar cap dropped to the floor as the sun rose. Josh was empty, a look of bliss in his face.

Coach smiled at his new toy.

“Time to lay some ground rules boy “

“You will always wear a singlet, either alone or under your clothes. Or you will be naked”

“Always... wear... singlet...or naked” Josh droned. He slowly stood up and stripped, then went back to kneeling before Coach.

“You will smoke a cigar every day”

“Smoke... every ... day”

“You will work out every day to improve your body”

“Work... out... every... day”

“You are only attracted to men, and find me very hot”

“Attracted... men... coach is hot”

“You will live with me so I can mold your progress”

“Live... with... coach”

“Good boy. Now as you breathe this smoke into you will embrace your new personality”. Coach took a long inhale of his cigar, and grabbed Josh’s head. He kissed him hard and pushed the smoke into Josh. Josh slowly awoke from trance as the smoke hit, and he was overcome by lust and obedience for Coach. He started making out with him, hungry for the taste of the smoke and the taste of Coach himself. Coach picked him up and carried him to the bedroom. Josh’s first morning in his new life was spent with a cigar clenched in his jaw and Coach’s cock in his ass.

6 months later:

Josh was overseeing a new wrestler working in Coach’s garage gym. The puny boy, Jake, was panting and sweating like a pig. Josh expertly blew smoke in his face and commanded “again, 10 more reps”. As soon as the pig began again, Josh thought about his own start. After converting him, Coach helped him move in. His old clothes got torn up, he needed singlets and sports wear now. Coach made sure he had a cigar in his jaw every waking minute, and it wasn’t long before Josh couldn’t stand not having one. The workouts were the toughest part. Three hours every day, he felt like he’d never been as sore in his life every night, and then again the next night.

It has all been worth it though. Coach has shaped him into a man. His muscles in the singlet proved it. The cigar in his mouth proved it. The smirk as he imagined fucking the new wrestler on the bench press proved it.

After getting used to pleasing Coach for 3 months, Josh got a taste of dominance when Coach put a wrestler under with cigar smoke during some “additional training” at Coaches house. It was so hot seeing the strong wrestler realize he belongs to Coach and crave cigars. After that weekend the wrestling team had two cigar pigs. Josh helped Coach covert the other team members, one by one, into cigarpig jocks. Now the entire team wore singlets 24/7, smoked cigars, and served coach. Coaches favorites lived with him and Josh as house boys.

As his final test, Coach is having Josh convert this newbie all by himself. It’s going great. Josh found this lanky guy asking if he can work in the Athletics office to get a gym credit. After a few blows of smoke Josh got him to admit he was envious of jocks. After a cigar Josh convinced Jake he needed to come to coach’s house for the interview. After a few puffs and a lot of suggestions, Josh got him to wear a sweaty cumstained singlet for this workout. That was 5 hours ago. This punk won’t be able to move tomorrow. His muscles are swelling and red but Josh keeps breathing smoke and he keeps going. Josh enjoys this transformation. He specifically picked a scrawny weakling like he was before Coach changed his life. Josh can’t wait to see the weakness leave him and be replaced with obedience and cigar smoke. As the newbie finished the workout, he collapsed into a pile of meat and sweat. Josh blew the last of the cigar smoke in his face and said “relax boy. Relax your body and mind. Do not move, do not think”

“Not thinking... sir”

Josh pulled two cigars, lit both, and placed one in Jake’s mouth. Jake was still catching his breath so his eager pants turned into big puffs as he inhaled the smoke. The smoke invaded his empty mind, corrupted him as Josh was once corrupted many weeks before. Josh got hard as he saw the smile of corrupted bliss on Jake’s face. Josh wanted to stick his dick into Josh’s ass, but he had to finish the conversion first, just as coach said.

“As you smoke that cigar, your old personality will burn up with it. Ashes of tobacco leaf are ashes of character. You’ll be empty for me to fill up with wrestling and cigars. “ he scratched Jake’s head as he said that, and he smiled as his worries, cares, dreams, and personality went up into cigar smoke.

Josh was excited about his first boy. He’s going to make a good cigar pig for Coach. He’s going to push Jake to his absolute limit until his muscles are like a bull and his brain fried by cigars.

Josh got down on his knees and started whispering into Josh’s ear and edged him through the singlet with his hands. How good it feels to obey Coach and Josh. How relaxed and horny cigar smoke makes him feel. How good wrestlers work out every day, how good boys wear singlets all the time. How he wants to worship Josh’s cock. This continues on and until the last ashes simmered out.

Josh looked at Jake’s face and kissed him, long and hard and sweet, as he marveled in his first pig. He slipped another cigar in their mouths and went around to the other side of the bench. He lifted Josh’s legs up and started to finger him through the ass slit in the singlet (coach’s idea for easy access.) as Josh moans through his second cigar, Jake loosened him up. Josh then thrust his hard cock into Jake, claiming Jake as his. He fucked him nice and hard in rhythm with his cigar puffs. Jake moaned, but that only made his cigar fall deeper into his mouth. Despite the exhaustion he flexed his ass like a good pig, he knew no matter how tired he was, Master Josh’s pleasure comes first.

Josh continues this steady rhythm for about half a cigar, letting his new pig associated the pleasures of cigar smoke with getting fucked by him. Finally, he thrust hard into Jake’s ass and came. Large ropes of warm sticky cigar pig cum erupted into Jake, as his fate as Josh’s cigar buff wrestling bitch was sealed. Josh felt a euphoria after covering his first pig. He’s never cum so much, and when he finally pulled out, Jake’s hole was dripping. Jake came too, right into the singlet. His cum stain right on top of Josh’s dried cum, since it used to be his singlets and coach fucked him in it often. Josh admired his handiwork , A exhausted cum pig on cloud nine smoking a cigar. A new team mate, and Josh’s first boy .

Josh started to head back into the house. Coach has to confirm his handiwork and make sure Jake’s ass was fully broken in. And if Josh did a good job, Coach will reward him with a one on one “training session”.

#original story #transformation #cigar #cigar pig #jock #singlet #wrestling

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sir-adamus · 3 years

Text

so, after making some changes, struggling to find character allusions and having to rename one of the team members so i’d have an initial i can fit into a reasonable-ish team name, i have the concept descriptions of this RWBY fan-team down, below the cut, i give you Team HRTS - i am open to any feedback on these:

Team HRTS are a “technically-graduated” Huntress team operating out of Vale; they had rushed back to the school from a mission as the attack began, arriving at the city far too late to do anything but help pick up the pieces.

After a hasty, informal graduation from Acting Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch, they’re taking to their roles as Huntresses in a world now fumbling in the dark, no matter how futile it seems right now.

Alice Heddwyn – Leader, based on Alice in Wonderland. Rabbit Faunus. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Vorpal Blade” – Sword – fitted with grooves that slot different combinations of Dust types in depending on the mode, mode is selected by twisting the handle in combinations only Alice knows. Examples: “Snicker-Snack” mode – Default, no Dust. “Frumious” mode – Fire and Rock Dust. “Slithy” mode – Water and Gravity Dust. “Tulgey” mode – Plant and Wind Dust. “Mimsy” mode – Electricity Dust. Alice utilises a fast series of swings, dealing physical and elemental damage to wear down her opponents defenses.

Semblance: “Wonderland” – by expending Aura, Alice can summon an “imaginary friend” (similar to Weiss’s summons) that acts as an autonomous entity on the battlefield. Only one friend can be summoned at a time, cannot split into multiple entities, and as Alice is not directly in control of the friends, she must be careful who she picks as they may prove to be more a hindrance than a help. Risk factor: if she gets too carried away with her imagination, her Aura drains faster. Optimal usage is in small bursts rather than a continuous battlefield presence.

Personality: Charismatic, friendly and airy (in general, weird girl energy), able to balance the personalities within her team and respond to feedback from her teammates. Has a notable childish streak (she sometimes talks to her imaginary friends, so she seems weird to other people but – understandably – the line where she ends and the imaginary friends her Semblance manifests, and how sapient they are on their own, is blurry), and can be quite stubborn, especially towards authority figures when she believes she knows better. Quite talkative and blunt.

Appearance: Long, white rabbit ears. Short, platinum blonde hair – “punky” hairstyle? Blue eyes. Freckles and a tan due to outdoorsy nature. Shortest member of her team at 5’4’’. Outfit: Azure blue hairband. Blue combat skort (with pockets). White belt – pocket-watch hanging from it (gift/memento from a parent referencing the White Rabbit?) and Pumpkin Pete keychain. Wears black knee and wrist support braces and blue fingerless gloves. Black combat boots with blue lining/laces and cute white bows on the back. White tank top, black high collar crop puffer jacket (blue interior lining, stripes down the arms and accents), sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

Aura Colour: White

Emblem: Keyhole shape - splashed on the back of her jacket in white.

Background: Alice is the daughter of a Faunus and a human – her human parent is from the wealthier side of Vale (befitting the crown imagery and also alluding to original Alice being kind of upper class), she grew up in a large home in Vale, filled with extended family (some of whom she’s not entirely sure she’s actually related to), full of eccentricity and play; encouraging her wild imagination. She wanted to be a Huntress due to her imaginative spirit and romantic ideals about adventures and heroism. Initially she was quite a socially awkward, isolated loner outside of her home as she was often singled out as the weird kid (if she wasn’t being targeted for being a Faunus), while she studied at Pharos Academy, so initially it took a while for her to open up and rely on her team, at which point her more extroverted tendencies became apparent.

Rowena Argentum – based on Treasure Island. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Flint and Bones” - Twin pistols that can combine and extend into an anti-material rifle (“The Captain”) – this mode has a lot of recoil, so Rowena’s prosthetic leg can double as a mount for it for long range shots.

Semblance: None – her Semblance was stolen not long after it unlocked when she was young, as collateral following a hit job by the assassin Marcus Black.

Personality: Cheerful and perhaps overly friendly, Rowena maintains a humble and optimistic outlook, sharing Alice’s eagerness for adventure. Unlike Alice, however, Rowena masks a hard edge, brought on by a life living unprotected by the Kingdoms; she’s an impressive liar, excellent at gathering information and pickpocketing. She has a vengeful streak and her impulsiveness often gets her into trouble, though it has tempered over the years.

Appearance: Long, loose green hair and coal-black irises. 5’8’’. She has a few scars on her arms and face from a rough life outside the Kingdoms, one notable one being a scar extending from the left edge of her mouth in a jagged “smile”. Rowena lost her left leg in the same incident she lost her Semblance; it has since been replaced with a simple prosthesis that she has modified to double as a mount for The Captain. She has a pirate aesthetic, wearing a loose blouse under a long double-breasted coat-jacket. Under her jacket she wears suspenders, which have the holsters for Flint and Bones attached. She wears several belts around her waist, loose-fitting trousers tucked into knee-high buckle boots. Colour scheme primarily green and silver.

Aura Colour: Silver

Emblem: A stylised Hawk from a top-down view, with its wings spread; worn on her belt buckle and tattooed on her right wrist.

Background: Rowena grew up outside the protection of the Kingdoms, hailing from a small seaside town. She saw numerous bandits and pirates coming through town on a daily basis, and would often be regaled with stories of swashbuckling adventure by the friendlier visitors. Until the day came that a notorious pirate made port in the town, and the place was set ablaze after his subsequent assassination by Marcus Black. Rowena’s Semblance was unlocked in the panic, only to be immediately stolen by Marcus on his way through, endangering the child’s life as her home burned around her, and the Grimm set in. She lost her leg as a result. Determined to never let this happen anywhere else, she dedicated her life to becoming a Huntress, traveling all over (including some time spent in Kuchinashi) and fighting to survive, learning whatever skills she had to until she was old enough to take the exam at Beacon Academy – and keeping an ear to the ground in case a certain assassin ever showed his face again.

Titania Ianthe – based on the Fairy Queen. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Graviton Reign” – Glaive weapon, reach for crowd control. Contains a mechanism which uses Gravity Dust inside the blade, furthering crowd control ability, either with repulsing strikes or anchoring opponents as they are swept away.

Semblance: “Attraction” – Titania emits a low-level psychic field that makes everyone and everything pay attention to her. Effect is passive and subtle most of the time, but she can use her Aura to concentrate the effect as a pulse in battle (extending the radius of her Area of Effect to 15 meters); drawing aggro from people and Grimm alike.

Personality: Aloof, confident and proud, Titania didn’t come to Beacon to make friends, but there she found a family. Titania has a lot of walls up, and is often frustrated that her teammates seem determined to clamber over every single one. Despite her exasperation though, she loves her team and would do anything for them, even if it means administering some tough love once in a while. She has difficulty in social situations, and has a tendency to try and shoulder too much responsibility at once. She is also sometimes insecure, due to the nature of her Semblance, whether anyone truly likes her.

Appearance: Wavy, shoulder length dark brown hair, pinned back so it won’t get in her eyes. Dark purple eyes. She has light brown skin, a toned, athletic physique and is noted as the most beautiful of her team. Tallest member of the team at 6’2’’. Outfit: Wears a purple and black sleeveless, hooded top (hood is usually kept up). Black, segmented armoured bracers with silver accents over black gloves. A loose, knee-length faded purple skirt over biker shorts. Heeled black boots with purple laces and zippers.

Aura Colour: Purple

Emblem: A tiara with a large central peak – shaped with interwoven lines and swirls

Background: Titania hails from Vacuo, originally from a small community near the edge of the Kingdom. She grew up hearing old stories about famous Huntsmen and Huntresses, especially enamoured with legendary Huntresses like Opal or the Grimm Reaper. Eager to see the world beyond the sands, and assured in herself that she would one day be talked about in stories too, she trained to fight, traveling to Vale where she could begin her legend. She quickly found recognition and popularity at Beacon; she just wishes people would stop asking her out on dates.

Sable Dunscaith – based on Scáthach. Human. 21 years old.

Weapon: “Nightfall Breach” – a spear with multiple configurations. Its compact form can fire crossbow bolts (charged with explosive Dust) out of the spear tip. The default form functions as a regular spear weapon and can be thrown as a javelin – the spearhead has a hidden function, releasing explosive barbs for additional damage after making contact. The pole-vault form is exactly what it says on the tin, extending out and allowing Sable to pole-vault over or across obstacles, retracting rapidly to allow for aerial manoeuvres whilst she’s in the air. She can also throw Nightfall Breach as a javelin, and relies on martial arts training until she can retrieve it.

Semblance: “Phantom” – able to utilise any shadow within a 40-foot radius as a portal as long as she is stood within the shadow (and it isn’t her own) – she can then appear from any shadow of her choosing (the further away, the higher the cost on her Aura). She can also utilise portals at a distance by throwing objects, such as Nightfall Breach, giving her an advantage in combat by making her hard to predict. Her Semblance’s effectiveness is drastically increased at night, but incredibly diminished in wide open areas, especially during the day when there’s little to cast shadows.

Personality: In contrast to her gloomy appearance, Sable is as much of an excitable nerd as her leader, as well as the de facto team mom. Sable is often on the side-lines in conversations, which suits her just fine, but she’s always watching out for everyone and there to lend a supportive hand when it’s needed. In spite of her quiet appearance, she’s also a bit of a prankster and can be very competitive, especially when her twin is involved. Her calm, warm demeanour however masks a fiery and brutal warrior with a number of tricks up her sleeve that let her control the flow of battle while maintaining a sharp degree of unpredictability.

Appearance: Red hair kept in a short ponytail. Vivid crimson eyes. Pale complexion. In general, she has a very Gothic aesthetic. 5’11’’. Outfit: Sable dresses in mainly black with some silver accents. She wears a long, fishtail coat with a fur-lined collar, long trousers and fur-lined heeled boots.

Aura Colour: Black

Emblem: A Castle – embroidered in silver on the back of her coat.

Background: Sable grew up on the island of Patch off the coast of Vale, and like many, attended Signal Academy in hopes of one day being accepted into Beacon – being a Huntress like her mother and grandmother was the dream. Sable’s twin, Astrid, determined to outshine her, followed her on this path, becoming a rival that pushes Sable to become ever stronger. When initiation put them each on different teams, this rivalry grew even fiercer; now in their fourth year and on the cusp of becoming fully licensed Huntresses, tensions between the twins are edging towards a fever pitch.

#RWB/Y

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honney-boy · 4 years

Text

Best Thing You Never Had (part one)

Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x Reader ,

Reader x Topper Thornton

gif by→ @sci-fi

WORD COUNT: 5.7k+

Summary: You're dating Topper; lately the relationship has been a bit rocky but you guys can get through it right? You also meet the pogues, and begin hanging out with them, especially JJ when the others weren't around. Being around both boys makes your head spin, and as it turns out, they're both the best thing you never had.

Warning: fluff, angst-ish, underage-smoking + drinking, mentions of implied smut

Request: yes by @jjxobx

A/N: Sorry again for taken so long to get this up but here it is! I got carried away and ended up splitting this request into a couple of parts.

if you want to be tagged in any of my work, send me an ask or message me! taglist is at the bottom of the fic :)

The sun sat high and bright in the sky. Blue skies with a gentle breeze, but it felt like a hotbox. Your dark sunglasses shielded your eyes from the bright light, but even with your tank top and denim shorts, the rays still heated your skin, leaving it warm and sticky.

Unamused and bored, you sat on the short rough grass of the golf course at the Island Inn Resort. Home and the heart of the country club, your parents insisted on paying a lot of money for memberships just for four people. The place wasn’t all that bad; there were plenty of things you could do. There was a tennis court, a pool, a gym, and other group activities. Still, some members embraced the stereotype of the luxurious lifestyle, flaunting the money, and being snooty. Some members had kids you went to school with, and you hated them just as much as their parents even though all your parents were friends.

You really shouldn't have come with him, or the other things you did with him after the fight you two had last night. It was another stupid fight that started out as a playful banter when he was taking you home. It escalated to the two of you yelling at the top of your lungs once someone said the wrong thing that got the other irritated, you getting out the car and deciding to walk yourself home. That didn't settle with him either. He ended up convincing you to get back in the car - really your feet were beginning to hurt - and took you home where he came in, and you two spent the next two hours forgetting about what you were fighting about.

You let your head fall back, and a sigh left your lips while closing your eyes and listened to what was around you. You could hear the water splashing along the shore, a little chatter from others on the course in different areas, and the frequent smack of a golf club hitting the hard rubber ball across the green. You wanted to be anywhere than here right now. You wanted to have a beach day and hang out by the water. Even hanging in your pool sounded nice, but you were being a nice girlfriend and came to the country club because your boyfriend asked you too.

He could pretend that the fight didn't happen, but you were over his recent nitpicking.

The sound of little laughter pulled you back and drew your attention away from the sun.

"Hey babe, this one is for you," Topper said, pointing a finger at you and his face serious. Rafe rolls his eyes while standing next to him and mimics Topper with a different pitched voice.

"" Hey babe, this one is for you." don't dedicate an air shot to her," Rafe said, walking around Topper so he could get a better view of where his putt would go. Topper scoffs, shaking his head at his friend, but decides to not pay him much attention as he turns to look at you again. Though he could see your face, he couldn't see your eyes past your dark sunglasses, which means he didn't catch your eye roll. You held your hand up, hiking your thumb, and adding a smile to show you heard him and appreciated the gesture. But to top it all off, you cheered him on.

"You got this, babe! Hit the ball in the hole for me," Your words seemed to brighten Topper's spirit before he turned around. Rafe snickered at your lack of knowledge with golfing terms, but he knew you didn't really care too much for it. Topper fixes his posture, positions his feet shoulder lengths apart, relaxes his body, and concentrates on the ball for a few seconds before swinging his club. The hit sent the ball a few feet in the air, landing on the ground with a few bounces then rolling the rest of the way to the hole. All three eyes watched the ball slowly draw closer to the hole, catching the edge and circling its shape a few times before finally landing in the cup.

"Ha eat that." overjoyed, Topper threw his hands in the air, a grin set on his lips as he looked from you to Rafe.

"Yeah, yeah, nice back door putt, but I can do better."

"Okay hotshot, I want to see you try."

"Alright then, let's move on up so I can show you how much better at golf I am than you." Rafe grabbed his bag containing his other clubs and balls, leading the way to the next part of the course. Topper doing the same, took ahold of his stuff but made his way over to you and held out his hand. You graciously take his hand, letting him help you off of the ground. You felt his fingers lace through yours as he pulled you both in the direction of Rafe.

He turned his head to look at you, "Did you see that play?" he asked you, and you smiled, pulling yourself closer to him and nodded. "For a minute, I thought the ball would decide not to go in—you know you should let me teach you how to play."

"I don't golf, tennis is more my sport," you say. You reach for your glasses and lift them to sit on your head; you glance at Topper, seeing him still look at you smiling.

"I know you don't, but I still want to teach you," You arched a brow giving him a hesitant look but still shook your head lightly. "Oh come on, Y/n, don't you trust me? I promise I won't set you up for failure." He gave you a little nudge with his shoulders, hoping to win you over. You knew that if you didn't at least let him try, he would be bugging you about it for the rest of the afternoon, and you surely wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, not like you were anyway.

"Fine, you can teach me your golfing ways," you reluctantly agree. Here you go deciding to do something with Topper again even though you should be mad at him, but you were irritated with yourself that you gave in to him quickly. Topper grinned even more at you.

"You'll be learning from the best," you force another smile on your face, and the two of you walk across the fairway to the next tee. Since Rafe walked ahead of you guys, he made it to the next tee and began setting up for his turn. You were too focused on getting to the next area that you didn't notice that Topper stopped; you only figured that out when you got pulled back with your hand still entangled with his.

You glance back at him, the grin on his face is gone, and his cheery mood is replaced with a serious one. "What's wrong with you?" he asks and pulls you closer to him. "I know there's something up, so don't say there isn't anything wrong." He knew you too well, you couldn't say he never paid attention.

"Nothing is wrong-" he gives you a look, but you continue. "-it's just a bit hot out today." you shrug your shoulders half-heartedly and pull his hand to get him to start walking again. "Come on, let's not have Rafe wait on us all day." He didn't budge, his eyes were still set on you.

"Is it because of the fight we had? I thought we were past that, we made up," You turn away from him, wanting to drop his hand but you didn't. You took a deep breath, faced him again, and shook your head.

"I know we made up Topper, it's not that," you answer and tug on his hand once more, and this time he did move, so you took that as a sign to continue walking to where Rafe was.

"Then what is it? I can tell something is bothering you, we've been together for a while. You gotta give me more credit than that."

"I know that that's why I see no point in lying to you," You see Rafe almost done setting up for his next turn, which ushered you to pick up your guy's pace. "So please believe me when I say there's nothing wrong." Topper stopped in his tracks, which caused you to stop once again. You whipped around, ready to snap at him for not believing you and keeping up with his stubbornness, you saw it in his face, but his words threw you off.

"Okay, I believe you," He meant it, and you knew it, though his eyes said something else, you knew he was sincere with his words. "I'm sorry."

You stepped closer to him and stood up, kissing his cheek. You flashed a smile once you stepped back. Topper smiled back, it was almost sweet, but when his hands wrapped around your arms, it stopped you from dwelling. And then he kissed you.

"Hey, you two, we're supposed to be golfing, not sucking each other's faces off." Rafe sounded a bit annoyed, but you both knew he didn't give a shit.

You pulled away first, patting Topper's bicep and stepping back. "Well, you have a bet to foresee and some lessons to teach." He held your gaze for a split second, nodded his head and walked over to Rafe, and stood next to him.

Rafe was right, he did better than Topper, and he wasn't going to hear the end of it. You knew you wouldn't either, along with the future constant complaining of your boyfriend. But now, it was your turn at attempting to be a golfer.

"Alright, it's pretty easy. Just uh, line up to your target..." Topper took his club—shifting on both of his feet to get into his stance. He glanced up at you for a second and then focused back down on the club. "Nice, easy backswing." moving his arms a bit, he tapped the ball twice with the club, and the third time he went full swing and hit the ball. You both watch the ball fly in the air, bounce a few times, and roll into the hole. "And voila. That's the basics of the swing."

You ready yourself by grabbing a ball - Topper had already gotten you a club - and kept repeating Topper's instructions in your head. Line up to your target, Was his feet shoulders width apart or just a little bit? You stood where he had lined your ball, standing on the same side of the ball you saw him stand and with a deep breath, you tried your best to remember his instructions and went for it. You swung at the club and felt the melt slip right through your fingers.

You wince seeing it land some feet away, turning to look at Topper, the corners of your mouth turn down with a pout. "Did you see that I suck." Topper smiled, finding your pouting state cute, it even brightened his poor mood.

Shaking his head, he grabbed another club by Rafe - who had a massive grin on his face at your feeble attempt, he and you both knew he would tease you about it later - handed it to you. "No, you're new to this, it'll take some practice, I promise you'll get better," he says.

"I highly doubt that this is why I play tennis."

"Yeah, and I like watching you play," he said with a smirk and moved to stand behind you. You began situating yourself - rolling your eyes at your boyfriend and his boyish ways.

"You only like to look at me with a tennis skirt on." You said in a matter of fact tone, which made his smirk grow.

"Hey, what can I say, my girl looks good in a skirt," you playfully huff at his comment; you stood in your previous stan, lining the club with the ball ready to swing but hands on your hips distract you.

"Hands to yourself, Thorton."

"I'm not trying anything," he says through an airy chuckle. "I'm helping you fix your stance." His hands stayed on your hips as he got closer to you; close enough, you could practically feel his body heat. He put his left leg in between yours and used his foot to spread your feet apart. "It helps if your feet our about shoulders widths apart,"

"Shoulders width apart, got it." Topper moved his arms around you until his hands were on top of your own gripping the club. Not only was your back to his chest, but you could feel his breath against your neck; when he spoke to you, you shivered as a chill went down your spine.

"You're gonna want to look at your target first. Imagine the ball going toward it till it lands - or rolls - into it," all you could do was nod as you gazed at the hole. "Then look at your ball-" your eyes quickly move down to the highlighter yellow rubber ball at your feet. "-take a deep breath while your mind imagines you making a putt. What I like to do is take my club and ready my swing with small taps on the ball." Topper, with his hands on yours, moved yours back a bit and then forward to tap the ball, he did it two more times before he spoke again. "After taking a deep breath, I relax and give my club a full swing like so," He pulled your arms back a bit further this time, and you both swung your arms forward, only missing the ball since he was simulating how it should go. "Think you got it this time?" he asked, moving his arms from around you but kept his hands on you.

"Yeah, think so," you mumbled, and he took a step back.

"Alright, let's see what you got."

You loosen up a bit, keeping your feet shoulders width apart and took a deep breath. You had this, if you made it, maybe you wouldn't have to play golf with them. You look over your shoulder at the boys, both of them waiting for you. Rafe looked like he wanted you to hurry up, and Topper just sent you a smile, which you returned. Turning back, you eyed the hole, imagined the ball flying in the air, and then rolled until it fell into the hole. You looked at the ball, doing what Topper did - tapping the ball three times with the club - and then when you got ready to swing, you drew back your arm and swung as hard as you could, keeping the grip you had on the club.

"Holy shit Top, Y/N did better than you!"

You get out of the car, grab your bag you had packed, and walk toward the water. You scan the beach - hand held up to your eyes, blocking the sun - looking for your bubbly blonde friend. You catch her running out of the water, being chased by a guy with a severe tan and shaggy brown hair - that had to be John B, the guy you hear so much about. You smile, watching him wrap his arms around her waist, making her laugh with the biggest smile on her face. You didn't want to ruin their moment, but she was expecting you to come.

After hitting a 'perfect putt' as Rafe referred to it as you were super proud of yourself that you couldn't help but tease your boyfriend about being better. He called it beginners luck, he was just too bitter about it, but you didn't care. At some point, while the boys were playing, Sarah sent you a text asking you to come to hang out with her and a few others at the beach. You gladly accepted the invitation and let Topper and Rafe know you were going to go see Sarah. Rafe didn't care, and if Topper did, he didn't voice it or show it. He told you to have fun, be safe, and gave you a kiss on the cheek before you left. You headed to your house first to grab a suit just in case. When you get to the beach, you see a handful of people scattered along the sand and in the water. At first, when you left Topper, you felt bad because he wanted to spend time with you. It was sweet of him, but you know he's only kissing butt because he was trying to get you to not be mad at him, but leaving the club and coming to the beach was the right decision.

"Hey Sarah," you called out to her. You pulled the attention of a few people on the beach, but she didn't seem to hear you, so you cupped your hand around your mouth and called her name again a little louder. "Sarah!" She turned away from John B, her eyebrows pulled together as she looked around. You wave your arms around, which finally grabbed her attention; she pulled away from John B, said something quickly to him, and ran toward you.

"You made it!" she beamed and pulled you into a tight hug. "I thought Topper would never let you go," You give her a squeeze and pull away enough that just your arm is around her waist, and she left an arm around your shoulders; you didn't really care if she got you wet.

"He almost didn't. After that fight last night, he hasn't really let me leave his side,"

"Now you see why I left him," You gave her a side glance, one she missed while waving toward the group of people a few feet away around what looked to be an unlit fire pit in the sand. "Hey guys, this is y/n, the friend I was talking about. Y/n this is the gang, Pope and Kiara," she gestured to a guy with a tan hat that sat backward on top of his head. Though he was sitting down, you could guess that he was a decent height - taller than you, of course - his skin was dark brown, and he was toned. Then she moved to the girl that sat next to him, Kiara. She had long wavy dark hair; her skin was a strong brown-red that was sun-kissed and warm. Kiara gave you a small smile while Pope gave you a little wave. "And John B, you already know." John B took two of his fingers and gave you a salute.

You met John B a while back when you went to bother Sarah when you were bored and didn't want to be bothered by Topper. When you got to her house, the one place you knew she would be - if not outside - was in her room. What you didn't expect to see was a pair of broad shoulders hovering over your really good friend's small frame. It was awkward, to say the least.

Your eyes move over to the last person she hadn't introduced yet. He had sandy blonde hair, a hat on his head backward like Pope, his skin sun-kissed like Kiara and a pair of sunglasses to top off the surfer boy vibe he was giving. Even with the sunglasses on, you could feel his eyes on you, and his gaze was almost intimidating. "And this is JJ." Sarah finished. You could finally put a name to the face, but as soon as his name fell from her lips, he moved his attention to the ocean. It bothered you when it shouldn't have, but you hated when others weren't polite.

You just smile, keeping your arms crossed. "It's nice to meet you guys; hope I'm not intruding your hang out."

"Oh, no, you're not intruding. The more, the merrier," Kiara said. "Don't just stand there, come sit with us, we don't bite." She waved you over, scooting away from Pope to make room from you, which you thanked her with a smile.

"JJ might," Pope jokes, JJ tilts his head back, probably rolling his eyes.

"Haha, funny. Better watch it before I bite you,"

"Oh, kinky," Sarah teased.

"Bet that does get a rise out of you." John B added with a snicker.

"Bet that does for you too; you and Sarah don't hide those hickies very well. That bandana isn't fooling anyone." Pope and Kiara let out a course of 'ohs' and Pope whistled, and you joined in with a muffled laugh covered by your hand.

You guys carry on with the conversation, all light-hearted and entertaining, staying on a topic no longer than ten minutes, not counting the 30-minute discussion about if F.r.i.e.n.d.s or That 70s Show was better. You liked That 70s show the most, and Pope agreed with you while Sarah, John B, and Kiara loved F.r.i.e.n.d.s, and JJ liked both shows. You liked hanging with pogues, you could finally see why Sarah liked them too. They kept you in the conversations, easing the awkwardness at the beginning; you were chiming in. That's what it seemed like, and you hoped you were. Even though you were included in the conversations—every once in a while, Kiara would say something to you, Pope would ask you a question. John B would ask for your opinion, and Sarah answered for you sometimes—it didn't take you long to figure out JJ hadn't said anything to you. He just chimed in when it seemed best, laughed when something funny was said, but he didn't ask you questions or ask for your opinion. You usually didn't mind if someone never said anything, but that made you feel weird after it came to your attention, it was like JJ chose not to say anything. When you did speak, you'd see from your peripheral that he was looking at you, you even caught his gaze, but he always averted his eyes.

You guys had been talking and hanging out for a few hours, and you knew that because the sun had set and the moon began to slowly rise in the sky. At some point, Pope had gotten up and lit the small bonfire you guys sat around, and like the other times before, the topic had changed.

Through some laughs over something dumb, JJ said, Kiara took a drink of one of the beers passed to her. After her laughter died down a bit, she asked everyone: "Okay, okay, so if anyone of you were on Fantasy Island, what would be your fantasies?" It was definitely an interesting question, and one you - all of you had to think about. Sarah decided she would go first, immediately, piping up with her fantasy.

"If I were on the island, I would wish for my future home to be an animal rescue. I'd live by the water, saving baby turtles and sea life with my rescue dogs running around enjoying their life."

"That's so cute, I can see you doing that in real life anyway. Make it a reality Sarah," you say, and some of the others nodded their head agreeing with you. John B pulled Sarah closer in his side, kissing her on her forehead and mumbling something to her, which caused her to smile. After Sarah, it ended up being Pope's turn, and his fantasy was to be a successful man, and with that success, he wanted to take care of the people he loved. He would get his parents a house in the figure eight - Pope knew his dad would never leave the island he was born and raised on - he would pay their bills, and the rest would go toward black-owned businesses that need it.

John B wanted his own boat business where he built and repaired boats for others or sell. On top of that, he would have a little surf shop where he crafted surfboards for tourons to rent, or for the ones who wanted to get their own. "I want everyone who gets a board for me to have a great experience, and if someone is buying their first—ever surfboard, I want to be the one to give them their first."

Kiara wanted to live through her favorite decades. Experience the music, styles, compelling, and peace movements of the '60s and '70s. Live through the time where iconic musicians like Freddie Mercury, Mariah Carey, TLC, Tupac, Micahel Jackson, Aaliyah, and more were in their prime. But if she had another choice, she wouldn't mind being the first woman and woman of color president. You loved both of their fantasies, they were empowering and selfless. Both Kiara and Pope, even Sarah, wanted to make the world a better place or live through experiences that haven't lived before. Heck even John B wanted to make an impact. Their fantasies put yours to shame, they could turn theirs into a reality.

When it was finally your turn, you didn't answer right away, and to the others, you looked like you were still thinking about your fantasy, but you already knew it. Your fantasy was a bit silly, but maybe you could think of a cover like a self-owned business idea like John B's. Or a world and local changing influence like Kiara, Pope, and Sarah. "Well, this may sound weird, but it's a fantasy right, so who cares," you started off, lifting your shoulders in a shrug. "If I were on Fantasy Island, I would bring back my childhood best friend Chewie; he was the family dog. Chewie and I would live on an island in Greece where everyone knew each other, loved each other, sang and danced their hearts out." Hearing yourself describe your fantasy caused you to laugh as if it were a real fantasy. "Basically, I'd live with my dead—but an alive dog in the movie Mamma Mia."

Kiara tilted her head with a thoughtful look. "That is definitely one fantasy, but i really like its sound." she pulled her lips into a grin, laughing softly and slightly buzzed. Some time ago, JJ had lit a blunt, and it was being passed around.

You smile and shake your head at Kiara, you agreed with her, you had one hell of a fantasy, but it's something you always wanted. Sarah joined in and giggled along with Kiara. She leaned forward, passing the blunt to JJ, then laid her head back on John B's shoulder. "I miss Chewbacca, he was a good pup," she mentioned, her words making you smile more significant, and you couldn't agree more.

"You are right about that."

"Wait, you named your dog after a Star Wars character?" John B questions; you nod and from the corner of your vision, JJ offering the blunt to Pope but, he shook his head. JJ just shrugged and took another few hits of it.

Still looking at John B, you answer: "Yeah, my dad and older brother are huge Star Wars fans, and they got me hooked on it at a young age. Chewie was a big dog with curly brown hair like Chewie, and at four years old, he looked like the Wookie copilot. Can you really blame me?"

John B chuckled and shook his head. "I guess I really can't."

JJ leaned forward, already knowing it was his turn to speak. He inhaled the smoke of the blunt and held it out for you and tilted his head toward it. "Wanna take a hit?" You looked at him with round eyes, caught off guard by him, finally saying something to you. But just as quick as it happened, you blinked a few times and reached for it only for him to pull it from you. "Have you ever smoked?" You wanted to roll your eyes

"Yes, I've smoked before JJ," you replied, with an unamused face. "Now, give it here."

Huffing out a short laugh, JJ let you take hold of the blunt. "Alright, chill out, no need to get serious and demanding." He was shocked that you have actually smoked. Sarah mentions you here and there when she was around them and not once had anything she said about you hinted at such actions. You were good, you weren't rebellious like Sarah or outspoken; JJ assumed you were a goodie two shoes, and he still thinks it. Maybe you could change his mind. He watched you place the blunt to your lips, draw in the smoke, then take a deep breath to let it take over your lungs.

He tore his eyes away before you looked at him, and when he looked at the others, they two were impressed at how well you handled it. You hadn't choked like Sarah did her first time. "Let's see, if I were on Fantasy Island and granted a fantasy, I'd want unlimited days to chill with my friends and have tons of Mary Jane, beer, and some waves. Probably use some of that time to find my true self, do some more things I love, learn something new, fall in love if it comes," he lifted his shoulders in a half shrug and sat forward on his elbows. "That's all."

"And what if something goes wrong like John B goes crazy and has black gooey crap come out of his eyes because, I don't know, he went crazy." Pope picked at the fire with a stick he found while gathering wood earlier in the day. Pope had a good point. Fantasy Island was known for its fantasy granting and the dark and twisted reality that comes out of it.

"I'll throw 'em in the water, problem solved," JJ replied, as you passed to Kiara.

"Here, Kie."

"Well, if he comes at you with a weapon, would you still throw him in the water?" Pope asked.

"Duh, and I'd run, it's a basic human instinct," JJ said like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do. All those horror movies you've seen only supported his answer; all the people seemed to stay and try to figure out what the noise was or trip on thin air, giving the killer a chance to get them.

"JJ does have a point," John B Spoke. Clapping his hands together, he threw in another question for the group to go around and answer. "Alright, in your opinion, what's the best pizza topping slash pizza?"

Sarah's expression lit up at the question. "Good pizza, that's the best pizza."

"That doesn't answer the question, Sarah."

"She's stoned, let her be, "Kiara said through a chuckle. "Hmm, to me, the best pizza is veggie pizza."

John B shook his head "Veggie pizza is alright but not the best. The best topping is cheese." JJ made a disgusted face, one John B frowned at because he noticed. Pointing at him, he says: "Dude, I'm telling you, the best pizza is cheese pizza."

JJ scoffed, clearly not liking his friend's choice. "John B shut the hell up, cheese is the most disgusting flavor of pizza ever,"

"Well, without cheese, is it really pizza?" Kiara wondered aloud, causing you and Sarah to giggle at the thought.

"Whatever," JJ brushed you guys off. "We all know the best pizza is pepperoni pizza." you pretend to gag. To add dramatics, you lean forward as if contents we're coming out onto the ground. You earned an eye roll from the blonde and giggles from Kiara and Sarah, even a soft chuckle from Pope.

"For a dude that smokes, you have horrible taste."

He frowned, offended by what you said, "What is that supposed to mean? I have an amazing taste."

"It means your taste is bad once you're high. I don't know about you, but when I have the munchies, I mix stuff that tastes amazing. Like for example, the best pizza, Hawaiian." JJ's face scrunched up; Pope thought about it but ultimately agreed with you that Hawaiian was a good type of pizza, he wouldn't say it was the best, but he had his opinions, and you had yours.

"Never had Hawaiian, you'll have to introduce it to me, "Kiara confessed while gazing into the fire until she peeped up at you. You grinned and nodded already planning possible days for you two–even Sarah–to meet up and hang out so you can make them your homemade Hawaiian pizza.

"Definitely! Just let me know when and we can plan a hangout."

John B cut in, letting his thoughts out. "I think I tried it once...I don't think I liked it."

"Yeah, you did, I was there, and you kept throwing pineapple at me—which by the way, pineapples do belong on pizza." You all grew at JJ's response, Pope even pretended to hold back hurl.

"JJ, man, just stop."

"I agree with Pope and acknowledge my previous statement: "For a dude that smokes, you have a horrible taste"." You say to the blonde boy across from you.

"You don't even know me, so how would you know what my taste is?" Whether he meant it to sound the way it did, you didn't miss the irritation in his voice. You were only joking, but you guess he took it to heart. Before you could say something else, John B leaned forward, tapping JJ on the arm, gesturing to the blunt before speaking up.

"Chill JJ, no need to be hostile, this is supposed to be an enjoyable hangout, just enjoy it, "JJ grumbled something you couldn't really hear from where you sat, but you didn't make a fuss about it. He just sat back in one of the fold chairs the group brought and took the blunt back from John B, smoking the rest. For the rest of the night, you guys continued talking and laughing, even going for a swim in the water. You liked hanging with the pogues, and you also admitted it to Sarah when you dropped her off at home after you guys were done hanging out. She even asked what you thought of everyone–disregarding John B because you had already met him–and you weren't lying when you said you enjoyed their company, you would totally hang with them again if you could, and they didn't mind. You knew right, then Kiara would be a close girl friend like Sarah, and the boys would be like brothers, but when it came to JJ, your mind wondered. You wanted to know more about him, you weren't sure why but that boy intrigued you.

Taglist :)

#outer banks imagine #outer banks netflix #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x y/n #jj imagine #kiara carrera #topper thornton #topper thorton x reader #topper thorton imagine #pope heyward #john b routledge #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #pogues x reader #obx pogues

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trashyswitch · 3 years

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Virgil's Post-Halloween Adventure With Roman

Virgil has been really down since Halloween came and went. So, Roman creates a full Halloween city so Virgil and some of the other sides can bring their Halloween fantasies to life.

This was requested by @puppysparkles03. You wanted drastic measures, so: HAVE AN ENTIRE HALLOWEEN TOWN! XD Hope you like it!

Virgil had been in a sad mood since November started. Virgil got his chance to dress up and be his scary self for halloween but...now that Halloween was over, Virgil had grown sad. He loved halloween. Why couldn’t it be Halloween for longer than an evening? The only things that have made Virgil somewhat satisfied was his Halloween candy. Virgil’s been eating tons of halloween candy as of late. From sweets to mini bags of chips, to juice boxes and candy corns, even a rice crispy square ended up in his halloween bag. That was a nostalgic moment for him. It was nice to eat a rainbow (gay) rice crispy square.

One day, Roman managed to get Virgil out of his room for a little adventure in the mind palace. Despite enjoying being out of the room, Virgil did grow annoyed by all the walking. “Can’t you conjure up a train or a car? Or, maybe even a horse and buggy?” Virgil asked.

Roman giggled. “Come on, Virgil! It’s such a pretty day for a walk. Wouldn’t you agree?” Roman asked. Virgil only let out a grunt as a reply. Roman turned to face him. “Come on, Hallo-whiner. I think you’re gonna like the special place that I conjured up, just for you:” Roman told him, grabbing his hand.

Virgil looked up at Roman with the smallest glimmer of hope in his eyes. Roman summoned some black eyeshadow, and help Virgil touch it up. “There ya go. And some blood…” Roman started drawing liquid red face paint dribbles that ran down the corners of Virgil’s mouth to the sides of his chin. “There! Maybe some red lipstick-”

“No red lipstick.” Virgil told him.

“Oooor no red lipstick.” Roman changed up his wording before putting the lid on his lipstick. “Okay! Looking all halloweeny!” Roman declared.

“I thought Halloween was over?” Virgil told him.

“Not unless you want it to be over. And something tells me you don’t want Halloween to be over just yet.” Roman admitted.

Roman picked up Virgil and walked up a hill. Soon, the luscious green grass disappeared from his vision and dark purples, oranges and blacks filled his vision. Virgil’s eyes widened when he realized what it was: It was an entire halloween city!

“What do you think?” Roman asked.

“Are you kidding?!” Virgil reacted. “I LOVE IT!” Virgil yelled, grabbing his shoulders with a big smile on his face. Roman giggled and looked over at the halloween city. “Now: I have given you the ability to snap into the halloween costume of your dreams!” Roman explained to him. “For example:” Roman snapped and watched as a bunch of material surrounded him before disappearing with his costume on himself.

“Oooooh! A roman emperor?” Virgil specified.

“Indeed! A Roman emperor who must rule with an iron fist!” Roman explained. His clothing consisted of a white robe with a brown rope tied around his middle, and a long red sash that was wrapped around his left arm and flowed down the rest of his lower body. To top it off, Roman had a golden laurel wreath on his head! He looked amazing, to be honest!

“Do you have a costume preference of your own, Virgil?” Roman asked.

Virgil nodded and snapped his fingers. A whole bunch of material surrounded Virgil, and soon flew away and disappeared to reveal Virgil’s brand new costume.

Roman gasped and dropped his jaw. “OH MY GOSH- SWEENEY TODD! YESSS!” Roman reacted, covering his mouth.

Virgil was dressed up as Johnny Depp’s version of Sweeney Todd. He had his brown hair spray dyed black and gelled back, with a white big streak in the middle left of the hairline. He had the slightly tattered vest tuxedo with a belt on a pair of striped pants, male ankle boots and a pair of fingerless gloves on his hands. In his vest pocket were some plastic traditional barber knives, and in his pants pocket was a vintage pocket watch.

“HELL YEAH! I LOVE Sweeney Todd! Classic musical!” Roman declared.

Virgil looked at his own costume and started acting a little like a fanboy. “I’ve always wanted to dress up as this character, but it’s a really hard costume to pull off.” Virgil admitted.

“Oh! You forgot something!” Roman told him. Roman summoned a long black coat and put it on Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil smiled and put it on. “It’s gonna be a little cold in there.” Roman let him know.

Virgil blushed a little. “Thank you.” Virgil replied.

“Now come, my killer barber! We shall visit Halloween City!” Roman declared, pointing to the city. Suddenly, a big horse and buggy came rolling up right beside them. Virgil and Roman hopped into the horse and buggy before the horse was signalled to start clop-clopping to the city.

The city itself was FILLED to the brim with stereotypical halloween stuff. There were stores for buying and trying on halloween costumes of large variety, big towers with witches and cauldrons so you could make your own spells, a big library filled with horror, thriller and grotesque-themed books and movies in them, a cemetery filled with floating ghosts, skeletons and zombies, and there were even caves surrounded by dead forest that housed the cats, snakes, bats and vampires. The more that Virgil saw out the sides of the horse and buggy windows, the more excited Virgil got!

“You made all this?!” Virgil reacted.

“Yes, I did!” Roman replied.

Virgil gasped and looked around more as the horse and buggy dropped them off in the middle of the city. The middle of the city has a simple, run down fountain in the middle with vines circulating the brick water pit. In the middle of the water fountain, was a few skulls lined up like a square with an infinite waterfall running through their eyes, nose holes and mouths, that fell into the water pit below. It was kinda creepy, but...strangely beautiful to look at.

Virgil almost immediately ran up to the big victorian library. “COME ON, ROMAN!” Virgil yelled to him.

“I’M COMING!” Roman yelled, quickly catching up to him.

Virgil walked up the stairs and quickly opened up the library door. The Victorian library was just as vintage-looking as it was on the outside. Only change being the place looked like a clean kind of vintage. The metal looked polished, the huge shelves looked old but not dirty or super run down, the ladder was wooden but stable and well made, and the middle aisles of shelves had movies and VHS tapes that you could borrow! This wasn’t just a victorian era library...this was a super old building that had been well kept and updated throughout the centuries!

Virgil happily looked around. “Logan would be over the moon about this.” Virgil told Roman.

“I know! He already IS!” Roman told him, before pointing to the ancient kids stories sections. There, hidden within the aisles, was Logan reading a Brothers Grimm fairytales from the 1800’s!

Logan looked up and smiled. “Hello, Virgil. I love the costume.” he greeted, giving Virgil an excited smile.

Logan was dressed up as Charlie ‘The Tramp’ Chaplin. He had the large bowl hat, the mustache, the large shoes, the suit and everything in between! He even had a bamboo cane perched up against the library shelf while he read.

“Hi Logan. Charlie Chaplin, huh?” Virgil reacted.

“Indeed. One of the most well known actors of the silent era.” Logan replied.

Virgil smiled and decided to ignore the bad things about Chaplin...for now. “Enjoying the book?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, I am! This is simply a collection of the Brothers Grimm stories compressed into one novel. It’s very interesting understanding just how much grim topics they could handle back in the day.” Logan told him.

Virgil nodded and started to look around himself. He found an aisle filled with classic novels like Little Woman, The Pride and The Prejudice, the Nancy Drew series, the Frankenstein novel and the original Dracula, an aisle filled with Shakespeare books, an aisle filled with outdated nonfiction books on multiple subjects, an entire aisle dedicated to the decades of encyclopedias, and even an entire aisle dedicated to the Marvel comic books throughout the decades! Virgil practically LOST it when he found Edgar Allen Poe novels, and quickly bought them. To make things even cooler, Roman summoned some 1800’s original bills and coins so he could pay for them! Virgil owed him a huge hug for that one.

After visiting the library, Virgil was brought to the cemetery to take a walk with Roman. “You are gonna LOVE this!” Roman told him. They only got a few minutes to walk around the cemetery before the huge clock tower struck 12.

Suddenly, a bunch of skeletons came digging out from under the graves and started dancing! The skeletons were very cartoon-like, similarly to Disney’s skeleton animation! And the best part? They were listening to ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons’ on a big radio as they danced around!

Virgil was smiling through the whole thing. “This is awesome!” Virgil reacted.

“I’ll say!” someone said, walking up to him from behind. Virgil turned around and widened his eyes. “Oh my…Are you Ed Gein?” Virgil asked.

Remus chuckled. “You bet I am!” Remus replied.

Virgil rubbed his nose, but chuckled a little. “You couldn’t go for leather face? Or Norman Bates?” Virgil asked.

“Nope! Gotta go all out!” Remus declared. “And what better than a guy who does more grave-digging than murdering?” Remus joked.

Virgil nodded, but awkwardly looked away. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Remus’s costume.

“WHY HELLO THERE!” someone yelled behind him. Virgil yelped and turned around. It was one of the dancing, singing skeletons!

“O-oh...You talk?” Virgil reacted.

“You BET I do! Call me Skelly!” the skeleton introduced, holding out their bone hand.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and chuckled at the name. “Virgil.” He replied, shaking the bone hand.

“What’s so funny? Is my name rib-ticklin’ to ya?” Skelly asked, showing off his ribcage.

Virgil stifled a laugh and pushed their shoulder. “Knock off the puns. You’re not as humerus as you think.” Virgil told him.

Skelly frowned at first, but quickly caught on. Skelly pointed to his own shoulder and smiled widely, before laughing. “Not bad, ol’ chum!” Skelly reacted. “Now tell me: Are you a skeleton too?” Skelly asked.

Virgil thought for a moment. “Well, not exactly. I do have a skeleton in me, but it’s filled and covered with flesh and organs.” Virgil explained.

“Wow! So, you have muscles?” Skelly asked. Virgil nodded. “A heart?” Skelly asked, pointing to the left side of his own chest. VIrgil giggled and nodded. “Oh! What about a skull?” Skelly asked before knocking on the top of Virgil’s head.

Virgil yipped at first and flapped his hands above his head. “Oi! My noggin’s not for knockin’!” Virgil warned.

Skelly chuckled at that. “What about ribs? Do you have a ribcage too?” Skelly asked, poking the left side of his ribcage.

Virgil jumped and stepped back, throwing his hands up in defense. “Okay buddy...No poking.” Virgil warned.

“Why not? Ticklish ribs?” Skelly asked, poking his ribcage again. Virgil wheezed somewhat and flapped his hands at him. “Dohon’t you dare…” Virgil warned.

Roman walked up to Virgil and picked the man up before throwing him at Skelly. “Have fun!” Roman told him.

Virgil squeaked and reached his arm out. “NO!” before landing into Skelly’s arms.

Skelly caught him perfectly and held him like a baby. “What a cute little fleshy skeleton I have! I could tickle you here,” Skelly started poking and prodding his ribs. “Here, here,” Skelly poked his front ribs. “Here, Aaaand HERE!” Skelly placed its claw tips onto Virgil’s belly and started skittering his fingers on his belly.

“What thehehehe- HAHAhahahaha! Whyhyhyhy thihihihis?!” Virgil asked, falling into a fit of giggles.

“Oh! It’s quite simple, really. I remember hearing from a certain someone, that your black makeup turns a dark purple when you’re all flustered! Isn’t that right, Emperor Romulus?” Skelly explained.

Roman giggled and shook his head. “It’s Roman, Skelly.” Roman corrected.

“Oh yeah…” Skelly muttered as he moved his fingers to Virgil’s sides.

“WAIT! NAHAhahahat myhyhyhy sihihihides! Lahahay ohohoff, mahahahan!” Virgil ordered.

“Lay? Okay.” Skelly laid Virgil down onto the dirt ground and resumed squeezing his sides.

“ThAHAHAt’s nahahahat whahat Ihihi meheheant, ya doohohohofus!” Virgil reacted.

“Really? When you said ‘lay off’, you didn’t mean ‘put me onto the ground and continue tickling me’? I could’ve sworn that was what you meant.” Skelly teased.

“Thahahat’s NAHAHAT whahahat I meheheant, ahahand YOHOHOHOU knohohow ihihihihit!” Virgil shot back.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so harsh on me. Looking at my point of view, you’d be confused too.” Skelly lightly argued.

Then, Skelly decided to pull a move that would drive anyone mad: Skelly started quickly spidering his fingers up and down Virgil’s ribs and sides. “NOOO! NO, NONONO- SKEHEHELLYHYHYHY! STAHAHAHAHAP!” Virgil laughed. Virgil’s eyeshadow color started to change the longer that he was tickled. And the higher up that Skelly’s fingers went, the more hysterical that Virgil’s laughter became. “WAHAHAITWAIT! DON’TGOAHAHANY- AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OHOHOUHUHUT!” Virgil pleaded through his laughter.

“But why? You seem to be having so much fun! I can see it in your eyes!” Skelly proclaimed. “Well...below them, anyway.” Skelly followed up. Virgil’s eyeshadow had turned a pretty hue of purple rather quickly. Roman’s mouth widened excitedly as he gazed upon Virgil’s flustered face. “Roman was right! His eyeshadow CAN turn purple when flustered and happy!” Skelly reacted.

Roman smiled. “So Virgil Sanders enjoys being tickled?” He asked.

“IHIHIHI DOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOT!” Virgil tried to protest.

Roman just giggled at this. “Your eyes and eyeshadow marks give you away. Not only are you flustered by tickling, you seem to love the affection!” Roman explained out loud.

“Well! Rattle my bones and call me Skelly!” Skelly declared in surprise. “This Sweeney Todd is kinda cute!” Skelly declared.

“AHAHAHAM NOHOHOHOHOT!” Virgil protested.

“You really are, Virgil.” Roman replied. “Right, Skelly?” Roman asked.

“You are indeed, right!” Skelly replied.

As much as Skelly wanted to keep tickling him, Roman soon gave him the signal to stop. Skelly followed what he said and retreated his bony fingers. Stepping aside, Skelly let Roman walk up to him and help Virgil up.

“You okay?” Roman asked. Virgil nodded and took Roman’s hand, allowing him to help him up. Virgil’s eyeshadow was still quite purpley after all that. Roman giggled at this and rubbed his cheek. “Still flustery purple.” Roman told him happily.

Virgil giggled and shook his head as he pushed Roman’s hands away. “Stahap that.” Virgil told him, still quite flustered. Roman, Remus and Skelly all laughed at this.

Soon enough, Virgil and Roman moved on, to explore the rest of the city. As they left, Virgil and Roman gave Skelly a goodbye wave. “Bye Skelly! Have fun singing!” Roman yelled to him.

“Will do!” Skelly replied.

“Thank you for the fun time, Skelly!” Virgil said to him.

“Not a problem at all!” Skelly yelled back.

Virgil, Roman and Remus went to a special costume shop next, where he happily got himself a pair of bat wings and a vampire cloak!

By the time the clan got back, Virgil and the sides were feeling as happy as could be. They quickly started showing off their stuff to each other.

Remus got a fake skeleton from the prop shop, a witch potion bottle filled with thick blood, and a big black victorian portrait from the vintage market! He was non stop talking about having his room all halloween-y, till Remembrance day comes around.

Logan got himself a dozen books, a vintage writing book, a fountain pen and multiple ink reloading viles! He was all set for some journaling.

Roman got himself a classic king crown, an empty treasure chest to fill with items, and some vintage, expensive-looking jewellery for himself! He looked super excited to look like he was covered in riches.

Besides the bat wings and the cloak, Virgil also got himself some ruby red lipstick, a pretty black vampire choker, and a pair of black formal shoes.

With how the day went, Roman could proudly proclaim that Halloween City was a big success! Roman placed the entire imagined place into a pretty notebook and carved the words ‘Halloween City’ and ‘open on November 1, 2021’ into the front before placing it onto his book shelf...

#halloween #imagination #ler!skelly #lee!virgil #virgil is a sweetheart #emperor roman #1900s logan #ed gein remus #sweeney todd virgil

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southsidestory · 4 years

Text

Caged

RATING: Explicit

FANDOM: Hunger Games

SHIP: Odesta

WARNINGS: Rape/non-con, drug use, forced sex work

SUMMARY: Annie’s Victory Tour brings her to the Capitol, with Finnick at her side. He did his job as her mentor when he got her out of the arena, but he can’t look after her anymore. All he can do is play the part Snow has given him. It’s almost simple now, posing for the cameras and obeying his patrons, all with a smile on his face. Pretending is so easy that he can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore. But Annie might be able to remind him.

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With his lips closed, Dionysus looks plain by Capitol standards. Pasty skin, undyed and free of tattoos. Short brown hair, black shoes, dark suit. Colorless, except for the trio of yellow tablets in his palm. My throat itches to swallow down the promise they hold, but I have two questions that need answering.

First: “Will I be able to fuck?”

The dealer laughs, revealing a mouth full of gold and gems. “Like a damn rabbit,” Dionysus says.

Second: “I want to feel nothing, but a good nothing. Can this do that?”

Sapphires flash on his eye teeth. “You’ll see nirvana,” he promises.

I don’t know what that is, or where it might be, but any place would be better than this one.

Red. That’s all I see, at first. Waves and folds of the color spilling down the length of Annie’s skirt. Six feet of fabric fans out behind her, but the top of the dress is spare, sheer wisps that cling to her breasts and shoulders and throat.

“Inspired,” says Sabina. “Her stylist has an eye for drama.”

Her stylist will be lucky to have eyes at all when I’m done with him.

I take a flute of turquoise champagne from a passing Avox’s tray. It tastes like turpentine and sugar, the medicine that District Four mothers force down their children’s sore throats. I drink three glasses in ten minutes. Red still bleeds along the edges of my vision, and no matter where I turn, there’s Annie. Trussed up for Capitol appetites, tribute all over again. When I reach for another glass Sabina touches her too-long nails to my wrist. Tap, tap: bad dog. She kisses me, tongue sour blue slick, and I imagine what a senator’s wife might look like if three weeping mouths opened in the middle of her chest.

Something tugs at my shirt sleeve, jealous but gentle. Annie, drowning in all that District One silk.

“I need you,” she says. Splattered droplets dot her left cheek, a constellation of freckles that shine crimson-wet in the low light.

“Everyone needs me tonight.”

Sabina laughs and Annie pulls away, so I know I've said the wrong thing. That’s what happens when I put pills in my mouth; nothing but mistakes come out.

I say, “Teenage girls,” and give my date a knowing smile. Let her read what she wants into that.

Sabina twines her fingers around my arm and leans in close, smug and conspiratorial. “My daughter’s at that age now. It’s all me, me, me! And they want everything immediately. Nothing pleases them…”

How this is any different from the rest of the Capitol I can’t guess, but I let her go on, nodding and humming my sympathy where appropriate. Oh yes, they’re selfish little brats. Ungrateful, never satisfied. When Sabina pauses to sample a canapé I say how much I hate to leave her for even a moment, but I am Annie’s mentor. Duty calls and all that.

Sabina frowns prettily. “I hope you're this dedicated in all of your pursuits.”

She should know the answer to that already. This isn’t our first date. Still, I feed her a stock innuendo about finishing the things I start.

“Go on then, but be back soon!”

I find my tribute talking to the light crew. A woman with tattooed vines climbing the side of her shaved head shows Annie how to hold a sheet of foil. It’s a clever way to hide from the cameras and I wish I’d thought of it first. Too late for that, because Annie turns her silver shield, and then there’s a lens blinking closer to my well-lit face.

“Perfect,” says Vines. “You’re a natural.”

Annie shakes her head. “No. He’s just an easy target.”

I duck into the bright circle of the light crew’s equipment before the cameras can focus. The heat feels artificial, claustrophobic, like the solar beds my stylist makes me visit. Annie returns the foil to Vines and thanks her for the lesson. I can’t breathe again until there’s ten feet between me and the clicking insect sound of mechanical eyes.

“I thought you were busy,” Annie says. Her voice is so light and casual that, if I didn’t know her, I’d have no idea that she’s annoyed.

“I shouldn't have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

Annie shrugs. “You never mean anything you say in the Capitol.”

Sometimes I forget how much she sees, this girl who’s turned my world upside down in six months. “Where are your tokens?”

Annie grasps at the place over her heart where two sea glass pendants always rest. She looks mildly surprised to catch only empty air between her fingers. “Vibius wouldn’t let me wear them. Said the colors...” She shakes her head, the way you would to get water out of your ears after swimming. “I’m hungry.”

But when I follow her to a banquet table she doesn’t eat a bite. Instead, she stacks gingerbread cubes around a pink chocolate fountain.

“Who’s your date?” she asks.

“Senator Wexler’s wife,” I say.

Annie never looks up, too busy skewering blueberries on toothpicks. She sticks them in the topmost layer of her curtain wall, like heads on neighboring spikes. Two by two by two. Then she says, “Doesn’t the senator mind?”

“Only that he couldn’t come with us.”

Annie tips over the fountain, and chocolate bursts through her gingerbread dam. It creeps along the aisle of white cloth and drips onto the floor. Part of me wants to scold her, because some Avox will have to clean all this up after the party. I don’t, though, because I know how everything shifts after the Games. You might leave the arena, but it comes with you all the same. Alliances replace friendships. Sleep never really comes easy again, because too many things are still awake in the dark. Survival is tangled up with fighting, hurting, killing, and sometimes you need small destructions just to breathe.

“Dance with me,” Annie says.

The train on that fucking dress is longer than she is. “How could I, with you in that?”

I laugh. Everything and nothing seems funny at the same time. Annie jumps a little when I finger one of the slivers of silk covering her chest. Vibius didn’t leave much to the imagination, so I can see the shape of her. Small teardrop breasts, narrow shoulders, long waist. Her nipples peak beneath the fabric.

Somewhere in my periphery a camera flashes.

“Stop,” Annie says, and I want to shake her. That word doesn’t mean anything in this city. A victor should understand the rules by now.

I trace her collarbone. We’re too far away for Sabina to see us, but even if she does it won’t matter. This is what they want me to be.

The preps painted Annie’s lips too, and it makes her look like a working girl. Ripe apple mouth ready to be plucked. If I could I’d spit on a napkin and wipe it all away, same as my mother used to do to get dirt off my face.

She leans into my touch and asks, “Why are you with that woman?”

“Because she can afford my company.”

Annie’s red, red mouth frowns, but I simply smile and step away, tell her to eat something and enjoy the party.

Sabina welcomes me with a soft hello peck to my cheek. I turn it into more, the kind of wet, deep kiss that decent folk back home wouldn’t dream of doing in public. But that’s how I like it, even if I can hear the cameras snapping behind and beside and in front of me. Pretending is so easy that I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.

These sounds are almost lost beneath the snap of handcuffs closing: footsteps, a full skirt whispering across the floor, the creak of hinges.

The manacles lock around my wrists, pulling my arms taut, stretching until my shoulders lift from the bed and I can feel the blades angling outward. Like clipped wings opening, Sabina said, the first time she bought me. A caged bird poised to take flight. Now she leans forward and bites my neck, just hard enough to mark. It’s always hard enough to mark with Sabina, whether she uses teeth or nails or the back of her hand.

I hear feather-light fabric brushing the carpet, then see something in the gap between door and frame. The briefest flash of red silk. There, then gone.

Sabina strikes me hard on the cheek. Pain vibrates through my jaw and up the side of my face. Stars burst behind my eyes, then in front of them, but I don’t feel distant or dizzy. Everything becomes sharper, brighter. Needles made of sunlight prick my vision, highlighting it all with stinging intensity. If I ever come down I’m going to kill Dionysus for selling me those three little pills the color of daffodils. He promised oblivion but gave me this instead. With every blow the room grows brighter, until all I see is Sabina, haloed in white.

Her mouth closes over me, warm and soft, drawing out all the things I don’t want to give. Then she’s straddling my lap, hands clutching my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. Ten welts spring beneath her touch, bright as pink ribbons down my chest. It’s winter everywhere but between her legs, and there she’s fever hot. Cold snakes down my throat, chokes and burrows inside me until it’s snowing under my skin.

“Finnick,” she hisses. I grip the bedposts and snap my hips up to meet her. I’m shaking from the chill air, the pleasure where a warm body takes mine in and the pain everywhere else. I don’t stop, not until she arches and trembles, mouth open on a whiny cry.

One beat, two, and she climbs off. Leaves me aching, tied up, and filthy while she saunters to the bathroom to refresh herself.

The haze clears, unfreezes, and I remember where I’ve seen red silk tonight.

I scrub until the scratch marks on my chest reopen and the water blushes down the drain, washing away smudged makeup and sweat, fresh blood and Sabina’s come. Not mine, and even though I’m half-hard, I’m mostly thankful. Dates are always worse when a client makes me finish. Steam fills the shower stall, wet and suffocating. Flash-bulbs go off behind my closed eyelids and all I can hear is the endless snapping of camera shutters. I sit on the tile floor, head between my knees, until the water grows cold.

After I get out of the shower and dry off, I pull on the tight blue pants from my date with Sabina and go to Annie’s room. I don’t knock, and when I step inside she jumps. Her dress is curled up in the corner, wilting. All those red folds remind me of a rose, so I turn away. Free of make-up, Annie’s face shines brown and clean. Dark waves fall limply around her cheeks, weighted and damp. By the way she holds the robe over her breasts I can tell she’s not wearing much underneath.

Good. I hope she feels naked. Exposed and vulnerable, like I do.

“You watched us.”

Annie sits on the edge of the bed, legs drawn up close to her body. She whispers an apology I can’t stand to hear.

“Don’t,” I say. She flinches and grasps the sea glass tokens around her neck. Her eyes dart away, focusing on some point along the baseboard.

“Look at me.” I kneel on the floor before her, too close to be ignored. “You didn’t have any trouble looking before.”

The only small mercy I can find is that Annie left before Sabina actually fucked me. But she saw me handcuffed to the bed, and that’s bad enough.

Annie bites her bottom lip, and for a moment all I can see is this same skittish girl, more innocent and less broken, on a different train, blushing under my hands.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “When I saw you leaving with that woman—I didn’t really think, I just wanted to know what was so special about her. So I followed you.”

I thought she wanted to see me, and I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. It’s a good thing that she didn’t want a peep show, that she ran off before she saw the main event. A good thing—but it still pisses me off.

I wrap my hands around her calves and slide down, thumbs grazing the soft skin of her inner ankles.

“Finnick?” Her lips linger on the sound, not quite closing over the question she’s made of my name.

“Open your legs,” I tell her. Because whatever she’s asking, this is the only answer I have to give.

Annie’s breath hitches. She trembles all the way down to her toes, but she’s warm, my girl. I brought her home and that makes Annie mine. She belongs to me in the same way I belong to my sponsors.

When she doesn’t move, I kiss the inside of her right knee, flicking my tongue over a new scar there—a pretty pink thing that’s cropped up since her Games—until her legs shake and unlock. Just as she falls open and willing below the waist, Annie clutches the collar of her robe even more tightly, keeping it closed to me.

Eighteen isn’t so young, I remind myself. Not here, not in this place.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and that’s all I need.

Beads of moisture cling to the dark curls between her legs. She smells like the Capitol, flowers and spun sugar, but when I put my mouth there all I taste is salt and wet and girl. Her hands scramble for purchase, first on the covers, then in my hair, and she pulls with more strength than I expected. Not as sharply as Sabina, but enough to smart. That’s been done to me so many times that I know it means more and now and harder—though by the way Annie’s thumb brushes over my cheek, I think it might also mean please.

No, eighteen isn’t too young for this, but I might be.

I can feel her looking: eyes on me, on my body, on the things I’m doing. Just like before, when she peeked into that bedroom and watched Sabina getting her money’s worth, and it stirs something ugly and angry in the pit of my stomach. So I pull away, let my mouth part from her with a goodbye kiss cruel enough to make her whine and tug on my hair, to say my name again. No question this time, just a soft plea.

I’m sick of being on my knees, and really, there’s no reason I can’t do what I want. No reason at all. When I stand, Annie’s eyes go to my chest, flickering across the stripes Sabina’s fingernails left behind. I strip off my pants, and her gaze lowers, lingers.

Beneath the robe I find her pliant and panting. Skin damp, nipples hard, breath coming fast and shallow. Greedy, grasping, her touch falls with selfish hunger, and in this Annie isn’t unlike my other lovers. Long legs wrap around my waist, anchoring me to her. She’s warm and wet, whimpering in a way that might sound pitiful if it wasn’t making me so hard. I press against her, teasing. Those little mewling noises grow stronger, tighten together into a full-throated moan.

“Have you ever done this before?” I ask.

Annie shakes her head, then says, “Almost, once, but…”

Her eyes go distant, and she’s about to slip away from me. Retreat to some inner place where her district partner still lives and loves, but I’m not going to let her mind wander, not now when our bodies are tangled up together. I kiss her, our first, and that’s so backwards that I almost laugh.

Beneath my mouth Annie takes a deep, gasping breath. Then she peppers kisses everywhere she can reach. My brow, both cheeks, the tip of my nose. My lips, again and again. The curve from shoulder to neck and the hollow between my collarbones. When her quick tongue darts out to trace the shell of my ear, I shudder. The drugs must have finally worn off, because I feel myself warming for the first time tonight. “Finnick,” she whispers. “I love you—”

I can’t stand to hear that, not from Annie. So I kiss her quiet, slip a hand between her thighs, and slide two fingers inside of her.

“You’re wetter than home,” I say, and it’s true. More so when I curl my fingers, beckoning her forward—closer to me, closer to coming. “Were you like this in the ballroom, when I touched you?”

“Yes?” It comes out a question, eager but unsure. Annie’s not fluent in pillow talk, and something about that sends a jolt through me. All at once I want her, need to fuck her like I’ll die if I don’t. Under me she’s subtle curves and rocking warmth. Open legs, cradling my hips as I push inside—and then I feel her. Tight, slick heat, stretched around my cock, gripping me, pulling me in.

Annie whimpers, but whether that sound is pained or pleased I’m not sure, can’t tell and barely care. “Yes,” she says, even though I never asked. Why didn’t I ask?

In the beginning I go gentle and steady. Then I slow our rhythm, stretch out the slide of skin on skin, and tell her to beg. Love me becomes have me, you can have me becomes fuck me.

For a moment all I can feel are handcuffs snapping closed, grabbing fingers and greedy cunt. I’m angry all over again but still aching, and Annie knows, because her hands untangle from my hair and dart down to cover her ears. But I catch her wrists, drag them over her head and let my weight do the rest.

I spread her arms apart, wide as they’ll go. Pinned, she’s a butterfly behind glass, pretty and splayed. Annie must like being caged better than I do, because soon she shivers beneath me, coming and crying at once. Back arched, small breasts thrust forward, toes curled and legs taut; she’s lovely like this and so tight it almost hurts.

On the low tide of our touch she says those three unwanted words, passes them from her mouth to mine like a hard candy secret.

“Don’t,” I say.

The camera loves me too. I’m sick to death of love.

But then my climax creeps up on me, sharp and sweet, and I can’t think anymore. There’s nothing but Annie beneath me, her body tight and wet around mine.

In the soft moment right after, I feel something new. A warmth, quiet and gentle, as Annie looks up at me with heavy-lidded green eyes. That love she promised is raw and open as a wound.

It’s terrifying. And tempting, which is the scariest part of all.

The knot around her throat unties easily, and I take a green sea glass token with me when I go. It’s all she has left of the boy who loved her, who died at her side. Stealing it is cruel, but I don’t do it out of spite or jealousy. The reason is simple: my patrons always pay, and Annie is no exception.

#odesta #odesta fanfiction #odesta fic #odesta fanfic #finnick odair #annie cresta #thg #hunger games #the hunger games #thg fic

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pressedinthepages · 3 years

Text

Precarious

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request [Your Jaskier stories 🙌🏻 they're so good!! Can I pls make a request for some insecure Jaskier?? Maybe reader travels with them and his kinda with Jask already, but after seeing Geralt shout at him, (after the dragon), she leaves with him cos she's worried. She didn't hear what Geralt said, so during the trip to the nearest inn, she's just trying to talk to him but by the time they get a room he's a mess. Asking whether he ruins everything he touches and just brings shit onto people like Geralt said 😭 and reader shows him how loved he is.....theeen some nice loving smut as a cherry on top pls 😂🤞 You really capture his dramatics and deep heart ❤️ he's a sensitive soul really! ❤️] <3 ooof its been a moment since ive written some angst...but here it is!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, sad bard times

Jaskier is in dire need after the events of the dragon hunt.

The breeze is cool on your face as you gaze over the mountains, so caught up in the majestic scenery that you nearly miss when Jaskier walks by. He looks lost, dazed as his nails dig into the worn leather of his lute case. His steps drag heavily across the ground as he approaches the head of the trail. Jaskier turns at the last second, his eyes searching the clearing until they land on you, shining with unshed tears.

You rush to his side, not even bothering to look behind you. You set your hand on his shoulder and look up at him, trying desperately to reach him in that emotionless void. “Jaskier?”

He says nothing, which is worrying in and of itself. Jaskier’s hair flops in his eyes as he nods resolutely, beginning the steps that will take him down the mountain. You glance behind you, seeing only the remaining few members of the expedition mulling about the clearing with no sign of Geralt or Yennefer. With a deep breath in, you turn on your heel to follow in Jaskier’s wake.

The whole trip down is completed in near silence, a suffocating vigil that is only rarely interspersed with the idea to rest for the evening. You can see Jaskier still trying to stop and take in the beauty around him, but it never lasts long. Soon enough, he wilts like a flower falling from a vase and turns back to the trail.

You try to help, but it’s clear that Jaskier isn’t quite ready to discuss what has been eating away at his mind. He bites his tongue and curls in on himself, even shying away from you when you sit around the fire at night. One night though, probably the last before you make it back down to Caingorn, you hesitantly reach out and take his hand, bringing his eyes up to you.

“Jaskier, is it something that I did?”

Jaskier swallows thickly, shaking his head. “No, my love. You’ve done so much more for me than I deserve.”

His voice trails off at the end and he looks back down, closing himself off. You scoot closer and take Jaskier in your arms, letting him lay heavily against you. You press your lips to the top of his head and fight to hold back your own tears, needing so desperately to hear that sweet humming that so often accompanies your love. The two of you fall asleep like this, staving off emotions too big to handle alone.

Rain pours from the sky the entire next day, leaving you both soaked and cold to the core as you stumble into town. Thankfully there is an inn nearby, and the two of you move frantically towards it. Your boots splash through the mud as you approach and you make sure to kick off as much as you can before pushing open the door.

You approach the innkeeper, who offers a reduced rate for the room in exchange for a night of entertainment from Jaskier. You turn her down though, sliding the higher amount of coin across the table, along with enough for a warm bath. She hands you a key, as well as an armful of cloth so that you may dry off.

You return to Jaskier’s side and offer a small smile, pulling him carefully up the stairs to the bedroom. The two of you systematically remove your packs and cloaks, draping the sopping fabric over a chair next to the fire so it has a chance to dry. You grab Jaskier by the hand once more, the two of you kicking off your boots before you pull him back out of the room and towards the bathing room at the end of the hall.

The air is already thick with warmth, settling on your skin and deep in your lungs. You see the tub sitting strong in the middle of the room, water high to the edge and threatening to spill out. “Let’s get you warm, Jaskier.”

He nods, still biting his tongue as he fiddles with the clasps at his wrists. You reach out and undo the buttons yourself, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed inside of his wrist. His doublet is cool under your fingers as you slide it open, your lips moving up to the tender skin over his collarbone peeks from underneath his chemise. The doublet gets carefully folded and set aside before your hands return, pushing up the hem of Jaskier’s chemise and stroking the warm skin that you find there.

Jaskier draws in a deep breath as you trace lazy patterns over his stomach and around his back, his own hands finding your waist. You push the shirt up over his head and set it aside as well, and Jaskier rests his forehead on yours with a sigh. His trousers are next, the buttons quickly undone before they hit the floor, followed soon after by his smallclothes.

Jaskier’s hands, still chilled from the rain that pounds over the roof, toy with the hem of your tunic before you push them away. His eyes find yours, full of worry and sadness. “Not now, love. Let me help you, please,” you whisper, pressing your hand to his neck and feeling the fluttering of his pulse beneath your fingers.

He does not argue before stepping back, turning to climb into the bath. Warm water spills over the edge as he sinks deep, plunging his head underneath so his teeth chatter with the quite sudden temperature change. You find the oils and soaps set on a small stool near the bath. You move them so that you can sit on the stool behind Jaskier, the little glass bottles resting on the floor next to you.

You find one that smells of rosemary and citrus, a bright scent in great contrast to the bard before you. Your fingers find his scalp, running in soft circles that press into his temples. In the stifling absence, you begin to hum. Jaskier turns his head at the sound, listening as your voice meanders through melodies. When his hair is sufficiently clean, you smooth your hands down the line of his neck and over his shoulders, trying to squeeze warmth back into the tense muscles.

Jaskier relaxes bit by bit as you scoot around to face him, washing down his arm and intertwining his fingers with yours. You dance over his knuckles and a couple of little scars that decorate the back of his hand, picked up from decades on the Path. Jaskier suddenly ducks back under the water, rinsing away the final evidence of the road and the rain.

He gasps as he comes back up, still holding tight to your hand. You brace yourself, knowing now is the time to ask, to draw him out. “Jaskier,” you murmur, “please, my love. What happened?”

Jaskier’s chest breaks with a sob and you squeeze his hand even tighter. “I-it’s my fault, really,” he whispers, “I pushed too hard, and I ruined it…”

“Ruined what, Jaskier?”

He looks away, his lip wobbling with every breath. “Geralt. H-he was trying to tell me to leave him be, but I didn’t listen, I never listen. And, then he bade me my leave.”

You shake your head, waiting for him to continue. “He said that-that if life could give him one blessing, one bloody thing, it would be to take me off of his hands.”

Your eyes widen and the grip you have on Jaskier’s hand turns sharp. Tears run freely down Jaskier’s cheeks, his eyes rimmed red and his heart worn raw. “I figured that leaving would be the kindest thing I could do, at least for him.”

“Jaskier,” you breathe, surging forward without care for the state of your clothes. “Oh, my love. I am so sorry, you don’t deserve that. You have spent half of your life dedicated to him, trying to make his life better. And this is what you get in return?”

You wrap your arms around his neck as he sobs into your shoulder, holding him close as he works through it. Water soaks through at your stomach and thighs where they press against the tub, but you couldn’t care less.

“I promise you, Jaskier,” you run your fingers slowly through his still-damp hair, “you are a treasure. And if Geralt can’t see that, well. He doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

Jaskier sniffles against your neck, “But he’s my friend. He was my friend, and I just kept pushing-”

“He lashed out, love,” you murmur, “it’s no excuse, but there were just too many feelings and he got overwhelmed. He probably already regrets it.”

Jaskier nods, still holding fast to your waist. You can feel his fingers rubbing the soft fabric of your shirt back and forth. You sit like this for a long while, the bathwater turning cold as the moon begins to climb into the sky.

Jaskier starts to fidget though, his hands unable to stay still and his nose brushing up the length of your neck. You pull away, catching the glint that has finally returned to those glorious blue eyes.

“It would be a shame for all of this bath to go to waste, my dear.” Jaskier’s voice is still thin, but with his usual vigor quickly returning. “Why don’t you join me?”

He winks and purses his lips, begging for a kiss. You chuckle, relieved to see him returning to himself. You lean down and press your lips together chastely, letting him grumble a bit when you move back. “You are incorrigible, darling,” you laugh, “and you are sorely mistaken if you think that I’m about to get into that filthy, freezing water.”

Jaskier pouts, turning his eyes all big and sad, but now because you won’t climb into the bath. You smile, getting up to grab one of the big cloths. “Here, love. Let’s get you dry, and then we can go back to the room.”

Jaskier huffs good-naturedly as he stands, the water cascading off of him in fast rivulets. He is half-hard as he walks over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you start to rub the dry cloth over his skin. “Thank you, my dear. For everything.”

“Always, Jaskier. Always.”

The two of you walk hand in hand back down the hallway, Jaskier holding his clothes beneath his free arm. He chucks them aside as soon as you close the bedroom door behind you, sweeping you into his grasp. His lips find your neck and he starts to nibble and lick at the tender skin.

“Oh,” you breathe as he finally, finally, starts to hum again. It’s teasing, a saucy song that only ever gets sung while half-drunk in a run-down tavern in the middle of nowhere. The sheet falls to the ground as Jaskier pulls your tunic over your head, casting it to the side. He kisses down to your breasts as he pulls your belt open, pushing your trousers down frantically and squeezing your behind as you step out of them.

“Go lay on the bed, love,” he whispers, his eyes dark and lusty. You do as he says, leaning back against the soft pillows. Jaskier moves to the edge of the bed slowly before climbing atop you. The hairs on his chest tickle the sensitive skin of your breasts as he presses down to kiss you deeply. His tongue snakes into your mouth and you feel his length push hard into your hip.

"Please, Jaskier," you moan, threading your fingers into his hair. His forehead rests against yours as he glances down, taking himself in hand and lining up with your cunt. He presses in slowly, pulling a low groan from both of your chests. Your walls clench around him as he buries himself deep in your core. Beads of sweat start to dot his temples and your nails dig little crescents into his arms.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier groans, finding your lips once more as he starts to shallowly thrust his hips. Your core burns with the sensation, stealing your breath with each snap of his hips. Heat crawls up your stomach and settles high in your chest as you hook your ankles around Jaskier’s hips.

“Jaskier, I love you so much,” you whisper, and Jaskier whimpers into where he worries a love bite into your neck. “I would move the sun and the stars if you were to only ask. And I know that you would do the same for me.”

Jaskier’s pace falters as he readjusts, pushing up onto his elbows to look at you properly. His mouth hangs agape as he slowly rolls his hips, hitting deep in your core. You wrap a hand to hold the nape of his neck, pulling him down to you. You meet his hips at every thrust, reveling in the feeling of Jaskier pressed so impossibly close against you.

Your climax washes over you like a steady tide, a breath held in before a much-needed exhale. Jaskier follows in the same heartbeat, his cock spending deep inside of you as he gasps your name.

The two of you stay like this for a while, only adjusting when you start to clench from oversensitivity. Jaskier rolls over and pulls you with him, both of you laying on your sides facing each other. He slides his elbow beneath your head and you wind your arm around his waist, touching each other in as many places as possible.

“I meant it, Jask,” you murmur as sleep tugs at the strands of your mind, “I love you more than anything else. I need you to know that.”

Jaskier yawns with a smile, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “I know, my dear. And I love you so exorbitantly much that it almost hurts. But it is the sweetest pain one could ever have the great pleasure of feeling. And I would gladly feel it to the end of my days, at your side.”

“And there is nowhere that I would rather you be.”

#jaskier x reader #Smut #angst #hurt/comfort #sad bard times

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