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#and the boy she doesn’t actually have to form a relationship with adorns

taechaos · 3 years

Text

Blackmail

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Jimin offers you information on Jungkook, but your friendship is misconstrued by Jungkook who ends it singlehandedly with one video of you professing your love to him between moans.

warnings: dubcon, fingering, degredation, mild squirting, manipulation

word count: 2.8k

a/n: jealous kook doesn't realize he's jealous. this part is a bit extreme, so beware ><

One doesn't come across someone like Jungkook every day. It's fate that you met him in your first year of college, extending to your second where he grows closer to you; fair, it's clear that he only intends to use you for his academic success, but you've deluded yourself into thinking you're in love with each other. Growing up, you only had your dysfunctional family to teach you about how to love, how to think. As long as Jungkook needs you, he will love you, and you’re willing to do anything to be with him, only him. You need him to live.

Birds sing in the background as you lay on your stomach on the grass of the yard across the campus. It’s sunny and breezy, the perfect spring day as you work on Jungkook’s research paper due next month. You compiled multiple credible sources in a separate file to create an outline for his essay the moment he forwarded the assignment to you. You want him to praise you, pet your hair, kiss your cheek for starting so early so he can turn it in before anyone else. He would be proud, flashing you his pearly whites and adoring eyes. The reward motivates you to work harder and you’re relentlessly skimming through articles while counting down the minutes of Jungkook's lecture. He'll be outside with his friends in 7 minutes.

With a bad childhood, you don’t care to befriend many people. You only have a few friends to keep you company and you’re socially awkward outside of that group. You’re content, so you steer clear of boys who try to sabotage your relationship with Jungkook. Jimin, however, doesn’t get the memo.

Typing away on your laptop, a shadow looms over you to give you a break from the sunlight. You glance up and stop swinging your legs absentmindedly when you recognize the shadow; it’s a boy with frames and a tight collar adorning his neck.

Park Jimin is a typical nerd whereas you’re more of a closeted nerd. When you’re in love, you usually put more effort into your appearance to impress the one on your mind, but that doesn’t work with Jungkook. It’s always other men giving you their attention through second glances, and that includes Jimin.

“What do you want?” you rudely greet. Jimin is ruthless with his attempts at pursuing you; he’s the perfect gentleman, and often volunteers to do group tasks with you. He is never mean to anyone, and has a squeaky clean reputation, but his only flaw is that he can’t take a hint. You don't bother being friendly to him because you don't want friends.

"I want to know why you look so happy," he bends over to curiously glance at your screen, "while doing homework?"

You slam the monitor closed to stop his ogling. "You wouldn't get it. And stop watching me," you sternly say.

"What's your secret?" he grins and sits down on the grass next to you with crossed legs. His upper body serves as a shade and you stop squinting.

"There is no secret, I was just in a good mood until you came along." You're not upset, but you don't want to lead Jimin on and he won't leave unless you blow him off.

"Thinking of Jungkook?" he teases with a mischievous smile.

"Are you stalking me?"

"No, you're just too obvious," he chuckles, but the sound is strained. You don't notice his melancholy as he continues, "You were doing his homework again?"

You shift on your propped elbows a little uncomfortably. Jimin doesn't need to know what you do in your free time. "Yes," you answer anyway.

"You know he has daddy issues?"

Your eyes round as your discomfort dissipates instantly; he's piqued your interest. "Really?"

"Yeah, he has a tough exterior but he's actually a real softie."

An involuntary smile carves on your face before it falters as you ask, "How do you know this?"

"We went to high school together. I can tell you some stories if you want," he boasts when he realizes he has your attention. The context makes his heart sink, but when he imagines your lovesick grin is directed at him, it fills him with joy.

"Tell me, tell me! Please."

"Weeell," he draws with a lopsided grin, "don't tell him I told you this, but he used to hate girls. I don't know if he still does, but back then he couldn't even stand talking to a girl."

"Why?" your eyes are wide with interest as you whisper.

He shrugs, "No idea, but he hit a girl once when she wouldn't stop clinging onto him. Not like drop-kick her," he laughs, "he just shoved her on the ground. Be careful with him, okay? He can be very aggres-"

"You guys forming a nerd club now?"

You gasp when you hear Jungkook's voice. When you look up at him, he's almost glaring as his eyes flicker from you to Jimin. You're gleeful at his approach, because he never comes to you unless it's about a new assignment. It flutters your heart to see him without any papers in his hand.

You don't take his subtle insult to heart as you immediately respond, "No, we were just talking. H-Hi."

"Pull down your skirt, you look like a whore. I can see your panties all the way from the gates," he seethes in distaste. You instantly sit up with a blush and tug your skirt down to your knees. He looks back at Jimin who's glaring at him under his lashes, "The fuck's your deal?"

"Nothing," Jimin grits. Although he hates Jungkook's guts, he's too smart to fight a lost cause. He has his own set of muscles, but it isn't enough. It's best to accept defeat now.

"Did you start on the paper?" Jungkook asks you.

"Yes, I-"

"Good," he cuts you off and crouches to peck your lips by pulling the back of your neck. You're stunned when he pulls away and nonchalantly walks off to his friends.

Jimin follows him with his eyes and mutters under his breath, "douche."

Your heart is racing and you clamp a hand over your chest as a lovestruck smile spreads across your face. You know this is your end of the bargain, but it never fails to shrivel you up in delight.

"Are you two dating?" he mumbles as he pulls on the grass with a pout.

"Something like that," you exhale as you caress your lips.

It’s become routine to link up with Jimin where he reminisces his high school memories and you don’t doubt a single word he says unless it sheds a bad light on Jungkook. You’ve learned so much about him in the past few days, and you’re eager to know more. He likes energy drinks to this day, he was athletic in school and often got into fights. He began interacting with girls when he entered college, as Jimin says, “only for a quick fuck.”

Though it hurts Jimin that you only talk to him for information on Jungkook, he can’t bring himself to care when you hang onto every word he says with a glint in your eyes like you’re doing now.

You're sitting in the bustling cafeteria across from Jimin, sipping on a homemade strawberry lemonade from your thermos, and you don't notice Jungkook glancing at your table every now and then. It is the first time he doesn't feel your heavy gaze on him. Jimin does notice however, because he is facing him every time he receives a threatening ferile look.

"He could become a lawyer with how much he blackmailed the teachers to give him a good grade," Jimin tells you as he glances back and forth between you and Jungkook. "He's quite dangerous, you know. He's manipulative, a liar and has no empathy-"

"He's clever," you counter defensively, "he knows how to get around the system."

He makes a disgruntled noise from the back of his throat with a grimace. "I don't think the judge would listen to that."

You laugh at his comparison of the conversation to a court hearing. Jimin can be funny sometimes, and you have to admit that he's not that bad of a friend either. You've come to enjoy his company without the topic of Jungkook the past few days, but talking about him is always appreciated.

"Are you the judge then?" you cheekily ask.

"I might as well be, since I'm not biased like a certain someone," he teases with a grin.

"A lawyer has to see the bright side of things, but if I was the prosecutor, I wouldn't tell you that your lecture is in five minutes."

His smile falters as his eyes widen; you remember his schedule? He ran late for a lecture yesterday, but he’s in disbelief that you reminded him today. "Th-Thanks," he breathes as he packs up his belongings before giving you a curt, shy nod. His heart pounds when he walks away, and he resists the urge to look back at you.

It's a good idea, because that's when Jungkook settles down on his former seat.

"I'm thinking you might be forgetting who you belong to," he starts as he gets comfortable on the stiff chair. You instantly smile at his appearance.

"No, I'm very well aware of it." Your tone is high-pitched in excitement.

"It wasn't a question."

"Oh..."

“You talk more than you work,” he observes with a quirk of his brow. “One would think another nerd would be a better influence on you.”

“I work at night,” you defend worriedly, “I promise I’m not slacking off. Can I get a kiss please?”

You’re so adorable when you’re needy. He hides a smirk with a bite of his lip; he thrives from your loyalty to him, but he knows Jimin is a threat to it. He wants you to stop talking to that freak, and he justifies it as a concern for his grades. “I’ll kiss you when you’re not procrastinating. Do you think you deserve even a pat on the head?”

“I do! I’m halfway done with the research paper, please Jungkook,” you beg pathetically, “I-I’ll show it to you, I have it with me right now.” You start unzipping the case of your laptop until he holds up a hand for you to stop.

“You’re going to read it to me, but not here.”

When he stands up, so do you in a haste. He leaves the cafeteria with you hot on his tail, almost jogging when his strides are much bigger compared to yours. You resemble a clueless lamb following a lion, desperate to hold his claws with your hooves. You don’t know where he’s leading you as you walk down the halls until you stop in front of a door. You’re about to freak out when he swings open the door, but you realize the lecture room is empty.

“You want me to read here?” you inquire meekly. It’s a little intimidating to do it in complete silence, because you have a tendency to stutter when reading out loud and you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Jungkook where no one can talk over you.

“Yup.” He snatches your laptop case from your hand with the handle, and roughly opens it before placing the device on the front row wooden desk. It’s a large hall, and the desks stretch out to the half of the room. You’re feeling stage fright for no particular reason; it feels like reverse claustrophobia. “Open the document and give me your phone.”

You don’t question him and hand in your phone before going through your files on the laptop. Jungkook is looking through your contacts and grins when he finds himself saved as: the love of my life ♡. Jimin is saved by his name, and he finds his WhatsApp through his information below. Once he opens your empty chat with him, he switches to your camera and pushes your back so you’re bent over the desk. You sharply inhale and ask, “Kook?”

“Don’t get distracted now,” he lightly scolds and starts pulling down your pants. You stopped wearing skirts after the incident a week ago to appease him. You stammer with your back arched, and your ass is on full display for him. It’s humiliating. “Start reading.”

“H-Humans are- Jungkook?” you warily look back at Jungkook when he slides the slit of your panties to the side.

“Are you slacking off?” he condescends.

You bite your lip anxiously and continue reading, “Humans are social animals that n-need social interaction,” Jungkook spits in his hand, “the extent of our social relationships is the most important predictor of h-happiness.” You squeal when you feel wet fingers graze your folds, but you know better than to stop and ask what he’s doing.

“Continue,” he coaxes softly as he brushes his fingertips over your pussy lips.

“Um, o-one of the main reasons our brains have developed the way they have is so that we can be social,” you speak between shaky breaths. Your cheeks are tinted crimson with embarrassment from his touches; why is he pleasuring you when he specifically told you, you didn’t deserve any? “Being happy a-all of the time is neither possible nor desirable.”

“Is it now?” He slips a finger in your cunt and you involuntarily let out a cry as you push your body forward. You don’t notice him holding up your phone behind you while slowly sliding his finger in and out of you. His saliva is mixing with your arousal as you answer in a gasp, “Yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“B-Because negative feelings are natural. When it comes to negative feelings, the most important thing to remember is to learn,” you pause to exhale with quivering lips, “to control certain potentially harmful thoughts.” You whine his name when another finger is added to your heat. You’re moving your hips back and forth until he slaps your wet folds as a warning. “Sorry,” you peep and continue in a breath, “Happiness all of the time entails epistemic irrationality.”

It’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you just want to indulge in his thrusts, but you’re encouraged to stop reading when he doesn’t comment on your moans. His pace is quickening and you chase his fingers with your hips, cum dripping down his wrist as you mewl.

“You enjoying yourself, whore?”

You nod and whimper, “So much.” You’re clutching the edge of the desk as he fingers you with fervor.

“And you're my girl?”

“Yes, all yours, I love you so much,” you pant, not stopping for a moment to question his words. He has a full view of your sopping wet cunt on the camera, and he lightly blows on you, making you shiver. He’s recording you confess your love for him while getting fingered.

“Only me?” he presses.

“Only you, Jungkook, I love you more than anything,” you slur as you start to feel a knot in your stomach.

“Then pee.”

“Wh-What?”

“Touch your clit and pee.” He removes his fingers from your clenching hole and takes a step back. “Prove your love to me.”

You mourn the loss of his hand while staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re contemplating his demand as your hand slowly reaches down to your clit. Is he asking you to squirt? Your breathing is shallow as you near your climax, and you still don’t know if you’ll go through with his requirement.

It drips out in tiny drops as you come undone, moaning as clear liquid spills out of you for only a few seconds.

“Good girl, my good little girl,” Jungkook whispers as he intently watches you humiliate yourself in the name of love. You’re twitching and trembling in shame when he stops recording you and sends it to Jimin without a second’s waste. “Are you okay, baby?”

You hum with a pout as you collect yourself by standing up straight, a sway in your posture.

“Give me your panties, you’ve made a mess on the floor,” he chastises as he holds out a hand. You slip and step out of them before giving it to him. In return, he passes your phone before feigning a gasp, “Shit, I think I sent Jimin a video of you when I was trying to forward it to my phone.”

Your mouth falls open as heat consumes your entire being. “H-Huh?” Tears brim in your eyes almost instantly; your heart is pounding from anxiety.

“How will you ever look at him now,” he empathizes with a fake frown. “He must think of you as such a slut now.”

“Let me delete it,” you panic as you open your phone. “Wh-Where is it?”

He motions you to give him the phone and opens WhatsApp after. “He’s already seen it.” There are two blue ticks under the message.

“No, no, no,” you pull your hair in agony with a whimper. You quickly put your pants back on and cry as you do so.

“I guess that’s the end of your friendship,” he raises his eyebrows to himself without a hint of sympathy.

“What do I do?!” you wail and fling your hands in stress.

“Avoid him. I’ll make sure he won’t leak it.”

He steps forward to lean in your face intimidatingly. “And don’t talk to him ever again.”

You don’t exactly have a choice now, do you?

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jjk smut

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Note

hello writer!! i was wondering if you could do a fluff arranged marriage loki oneshot with the prompt “can we makeout now?”

thanks for considering!

Dating and Marriage

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Warnings: N/A, just fluff!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: alright i hope this is okay and ended up well i love the arrange marriage AU and i thought i was gonna be better at putting this together but maybe its clunky or something idk i still like it so i hope you do as well!

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had taken you a while to get somewhere in your relationship with Loki.

When the two of you were informed you had already been promised to one another before either of your births, you weren’t too shocked. As both of you came from royal standings, arranged marriages were far too common for a variety of reasons. In your case, it was to cement a peace treaty.

Sure, at first, you and Loki were very annoyed with the decision, especially since neither of you was ever even given the chance to be in on the conversation but that annoyance wasn’t allowed for very long. You two were adults now and had to take on your royal responsibilities as such. That responsibility included following through on the outlined marriage.

Loki didn’t seem to harbor any malice towards you and you never held anything against him. But, still, it wasn’t like you two were in love. You were tolerating one another.

And for a while, that toleration was enough. As a couple, you were quite poised in public. Sometimes you thought maybe it was hard for others to believe it was an arranged marriage based on how much you seemed to accept each other’s company. It was okay at times, you felt like you had a friend. Being a royal in a whole new palace could be lonely. Loki at least would spare you some time to sit and chat.

But this unusual friendship you two had started after the wedding was growing into something else for you day by day. And as much as he probably wanted to deny it, you could see something shift within Loki. He’d look at you differently. Reach for your hand when out of the public eye. Even began inviting you to spend his leisure time with him.

There was no avoiding the fact you two were headed on a different course than originally planned in this arrangement and despite its prevalence, you two didn’t speak about it. But you were growing greatly tired of ignoring it.

"We should go on a date," you suddenly said one afternoon. You and Loki were sitting in the library. He was in his favorite chair, consumed with some fairytale while you were seated on the couch across from him, in the process of knitting…something. You didn’t know what — you had only taken up knitting because you had heard other princesses did it. Making scarves had become all the rage.

You could feel Loki eyeing you suspiciously as you tried working on another stitch.

Eventually, he placed his book to the side and spoke. "A date?" Loki echoed.

You shrugged, not taking your eyes off the yarn. "Yeah, a date. You know, just the two of us. We could go out or — or maybe make some dinner here. I’ve been having the kitchen servants teach me about cooking."

"I know what a date is," he sighed. "What I meant is, why should we go on a date? We’re already married."

You felt a bit defeated with that response. You set your yarn on your lap and looked at your husband. He was watching you quite intensely, waiting for your answer. You shivered under the icy stare.

"Y-You don’t want to—"

Loki cut you off abruptly. "I didn’t say that." He glanced down then back at you. "It’s just that… Dates are for wooing, yes? Why would I need that when I can already tell you’re taken with me."

Your heart dropped. You blinked at him, stunned. You hadn’t expected him to just…admit he knew what was working up in your mind. There was some pride in his eyes at your reaction but behind it, you could make out a hint of fascination.

You tried shaking off your pounding heart. You promptly picked back up the yarn, continuing your hopeless scarf, as you responded, "Have you never considered that maybe your wife still wants to be wooed despite the status of her interest."

"So you admit," he chuckled, "you have fallen for me."

You scoffed, "Don’t act all high and mighty. I’m well aware of how you look at me."

You heard Loki lean back in the chair as the leather of it creaked. You could feel his eyes roaming over you but you didn’t know in what capacity. Whatever was in his eyes now you were ignoring as you frantically tried to focus on knitting and not your love confession.

"Okay," he eventually said. "We’ll have a date."

It was impossible for you to hold back the smile forming on your lips.

***

After minimal deliberation, Loki agreed to let you cook for him. You had heard that the Midgardians used food as signs of love and were fascinated with trying to learn some dishes. You studied with the servants for days trying to perfect a meal. They were always a little uncertain about letting a princess in where servant frequented but once you explained this time you were cooking to please your husband, they giggled like schoolgirls, excited to help.

Once you felt prepared enough, you informed your husband of when you wanted the date. You may have had to do some rework of both your royal schedules but it was fine. Meetings are forever, love can be fleeting.

You were preparing the food when Loki hesitantly entered the kitchen. You had explained that you two would be eating at the kitchen table. It was just a little table where servants usually sat to eat meals or relax in between shifts.

Loki had originally protested this saying he was not of such low status. You assured him that there was no intimacy to be found at the grand dining hall. It was far too big and annoying for two people. He didn’t argue further, just mumbling that he’d be there at the time requested.

And, luckily, he followed through.

"Hi, honey," you smiled, watching the stew simmer above the flame.

Loki took his seat gently as if he was going to catch something from the table. "This is really what you wanted to do for our date?"

You nodded. "I’ve had so much fun learning this meal and doesn’t it smell great? I think it’s going to be nice. I ever have bread baking." You motioned towards the stone oven. Loki followed your gaze but didn’t look impressed yet.

"We could’ve very easily had someone make this for us," Loki pointed out. "We have that luxury, darling."

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your bubbling stew. You could feel your anger bubbling in the same fashion.

"That’s not the point, Loki," you said, the tone in the kitchen shifting as you spoke his name. You rarely ever did. He perked up as you continued, "The point is that I, your wife, like you and would like to express my adornment through a freshly cooked meal."

Loki fell silent with that, something that was so rare for him. You didn’t push any further, though, and instead killed the fire under the stew and presented your bread from the oven. You divided it out into individual portions then placed each on the table. Still with an annoyed, sour look, you sat across from your husband. He was watching the stew, you were watching him.

"It—It looks delicious," he said

"Thank you," you mumbled. You two dug in then, this date now turning out a bit more awkward than you had planned. Neither of you spoke for a while, instead filling the kitchen with the slurping of soup and chewing of bread.

Loki soon began looking between you and the food like he was working up the courage to say something which was absolutely ridiculous to you. Your husband was one of the most outspoken people in the realm.

Eventually, you just decided to look up at him, your eyes begging for him to say whatever he wanted to say.

"This meal is lovely," Loki eventually said. "Th-Thank you for…doing all this."

You smiled, a faint blush creeping up on your cheeks. "You’re welcome."

Loki finished his stew then asked, "What else should we do on this date?"

Now you were really blushing. While taking your little cooking classes, you asked the servants what else goes on on dates. They seemed like lovely girls and you were curious. You had heard stories before of dancing and parties but you wanted something more intimate and you had never actually been on much of a date before. You spent time with boys in your youth and the night before your wedding you and Loki had talked for a little bit but nothing was ever of such fashion.

One servant had informed you, quite shyly, that she and her boyfriend always finished their dates by making out. You had gasped, amazed at her bluntness but then remembered these were servant girls. They lived far less controlled lives than you.

You were partially envious but then you realized, technically, you had a husband. A husband who was capable of making out with you even if such actions and beyond were typically reserved for very a calculated time — heir bearing, such intimacy only happened during the time when potential conception was at its peak.

"Well," you said, running your spoon through your bowl of stew, "one of the servants that helped me said her and her boyfriend end their dates with make-outs."

"Making out?" Loki repeated, brows raised in surprise. "But it’s not—"

"I know."

He looked away. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain. "You want to make out with me for fun."

You giggled at his shock. "Is that so unbelievable? I thought we already established I am into my husband."

"Yes, but you, well, neither of us, have never been so bold before."

"But it’s not such a bad thing," you shrugged, "to be so bold."

Loki hummed in agreement as he eyed you. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you definitely knew something between you two had shifted. It had already been shifting, sure, but your newly expressed desires opened the dam walls.

"Alright, dear, I think I can indulge you."

You smiled at his excitement which he was certainly trying to hide. But you maybe wanted to take a moment to maybe mess with him a bit. "Hmm," you glanced around at the dirty pots and pans, "after we clean up."

Loki’s jaw dropped. "What?"

"We can get on with our date once we clean up."

"You’re kidding me, right?" He pointedly asked. You shook your head. Loki huffed, "When did my wife become such a tease?"

You stood up, collecting your bowls and plates, bringing them to the counter. "I’ve always been like this, honey," you said. "Maybe you just have to get to know me a little bit more."

Loki began stalking towards you as you pretended to be fooling with the dirty dishes. "Well, darling," he said as his hands came upon your hips, "there’s something you must know about me and it’s that I don’t like to be kept waiting."

"I can maybe leave all this for later if you ask nicely."

He scoffed. "Are you asking me to beg?"

You shook your head. "I’m just asking you to ask nicely."

"Fine," he sighed. "Please, can we make out now?"

You sighed, leaning into his hard body. His arms moved to wrap around your waist now. "Yes, your majesty."

Loki chuckled lowly, dangerously, in your ear. "Thank you, princess."

He leaned his head around and within seconds, your lips were captured with his, getting more and more lost in one another as you two become a miss of kisses and touches.

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potter-imagines · 3 years

Text

Being Thor and Loki's Little Sister and Dating Peter Parker Would Include...

Notes: wow I haven't written a marvel one in a long time pls don't read too much into the timeline lol I know things overlap but just go with it (:

Warnings: none... I think ??

Word Count: 3.6k (sorry its a bit long for a write like this but I couldn't help myself)

You managed to do a decent job at keeping your relationship under wraps from your brothers for quite some time

Of course every other member on the team knew before the two of you even begun officially dating

Peter had spent three months ranting and raving to Tony Stark about how cute he thought you were and how much he liked you

Tony insisted time and time again he should tell you but Peter’s fear of rejection was much too large for him to find the courage for that

Unbeknownst to him,

You had spilled about your crush on Peter to Wanda and Nat almost a week after living in the compound

Being the only other girls there besides Pepper, it was easy to confide in them

Day after day you would wander to Wanda’s room and lay on her bed and gush about how handsome Peter was and how kind of a heart he had

Wanda found it adorable

And Bucky, Steve and Sam had placed the pieces together after days on end of watching Peter and yourself flirt like school kids in the gym during training

Even after being frozen for years, Steve recognized the look of smitten on Peter’s face when he talked to you

Bruce on the other hand had to sit through most of the kids talks with Tony in the lab so he figured it out fast

So when the two of you finally confessed your feelings for one another and Peter asked you out, there was only one road block holding the moment back from perfection

Your brothers

You and Peter shared the news with all the other team members expect the two, possibly most important in your case, members

You’ve been close to your brothers since you were brought into this world so it wasn’t like you didn’t want to tell them

It was more or less how overprotective they could be that made you bite your tongue

And as nervous as you are, Peter is 1,000% more worried about your brother’s finding out

Like honestly can you imagine how petrified Peter would be to tell Thor and Loki you two were dating

He’d purposely walk in the opposite direction every time he saw either of the two for the first week

Couldn’t stop fumbling with his words when he spoke to either of them

Like he was terrified

It’s sort of a cliché to have protective older brothers but older brothers who were also both Gods ????

Peter felt like a deadman walking

When the day finally came that you did tell your brothers about your relationship with Peter, it was absolutely cringe worthy

Peter had been coming home to the tower after a long day at Midtown High School when he spotted you the second he stepped foot out of the elevator

His excitement had clouded his judgement as he failed to check and see if the coast was clear

“Y/n! Hey!”

He nearly tumbled over his own feet as he rushed over to you

His face was gleaming with happiness and for a brief moment you felt a smile creep to your face until you were pulled back to reality by his hand reaching out to grasp yours

Your eyes widened in shock as you stared at Peter and before you could warn him to stop, he had planted a soft kiss on your cheek

That adorable smile was glowing from his face as he reached down for your hand only to fall once you pulled your hand away

He gave you a look of confusion, clearly surprised by your lack of response

But when an awkward cough sounded from behind him, he suddenly knew why

Peter didn’t have enough time to make any sort of a move when a husky, all too familiar voice spoke up,

“Hello, man of spiders. May I ask why you just kissed our little sister?” “Oh shit- I uh, well you see I…um...she had something on her face so I uh…”

Loki would snicker in amusement at seeing the boy squirm and prolong his torture “So you kissed her?” “Yeah…” “Hm, there something you’d like to share, little one?”

It wasn’t exactly the way you were hoping to break the news to your brothers

But it was certainly one way of doing it

The rest of the night was filled with awkward tension as you and Peter had to confess the truth to your brothers, who then made you share the news with the rest of the team

Thankfully, the rest of the team pretended they were just hearing about your new relationship for the first time, seeing as no one wanted to deal with an angry Thor

Now let’s get into your relationship with Peter

Peter Parker is the most caring person in the universe

Honestly

And dating him certainly came with it’s perks

You can expect to wake up every morning with a fresh coffee and a pastry on your nightstand, courtesy of Peter

He’ll also write you a sweet little ‘good morning’ note with a sketch of spider-man hanging from a web

(( he’s actually pretty talented in the doodling department ))

Makes cute sketches of him as spiderman and you as a princess ( vv fitting)

But also draws you as a total badass saving the galaxy bc… well you are

Count on him to be the first person to greet you when the sunrises and the last person to wish you a goodnight when it falls

Gets Mr. Stark to buy you an iphone so he can teach you how to use it

Has your name as “goddess” in his phone

The first thing he does is teach you about texting so he can pay you in imessage games

Refuses to play you in battleship since you somehow have crushed him every single time

Gets slightly annoyed with the overwhelming amount of random photos you snap of him

But he knows its all new to you and finds it irritatingly adorable

Loves it when you walk home with him from school

Will also keep reminding you that you shouldn’t have walked alone all the way to Midtown High School alone

Peter often forgets that you’re Asgardian and can protect yourself just fine

But it’s so cute how protective he is

He’s very observant and notices nearly everything

Like when you’re feeling a bit homesick

He picks up on it right away and will ask Thor and/or Loki for advice

Or when you start to become bored and tired at one of Star’s parties

Peter made his way over you before you even had the chance to turn and search for him

He’d escort you back to your room and lay with you until he was positive you had fallen asleep

Kisses to the top of your head

Is the boyfriend that will take your makeup off for you if you wear any

(( and sets yours lashes on the nightstand so neatly and labels which eye they were on cause the poor boy doesn’t understand ))

Spends weeks learning how to master the intricate braids that adorn your head

It’s so cute cause he’ll sit and look up Youtube videos and try to learn how to make the different braids and is just so confused but so determined

Taking Peter to visit Asgard

“Woah- this place looks like something from Lord of the Rings! It’s awesome!” “Lord of the Rings? I’ve never met that God.” “Uh, no, it’s a movie from Earth. We can watch it when we go back.” “To Midgard?” “Midgard? No, to New York.”

Loves it when your people refer to you as “Princess Y/n”

For some reason it makes him blush

Will tell everyone back on Earth that he’s dating a princess

I could def see Peter getting annoyed and frustrated with the Asgardian men trying to flirt and win your heart

Although that’s something that already belong to Peter

And even though Peter trusts you entirely

He’s still insecure from time to time

Especially when he sees how much taller and stronger Asgardian men look in comparison to him

But he finds reassurance in the feeling of your hand in his and the gleeful smile adorning your face as you show him around your homeland

Attempting to help Peter study

Although you’re not much help to Midgardian school work “Peter, darling, I don’t have a clue what a watergate is and I haven’t an idea how that could be scandalous.”

Maths however you excelled in

And Peter was thoroughly surprised to find you had the sequence of PI memorized to the one hundredth number- and in song form

Holding your hand 24/7

Endless cuddles on the couch

And when you’re walking around together, he does that thing where he swings your hands and back forth

Movie theater dates… at the tower b/c your brothers feel the need to be in close proximity the you guys at all times

Trying ice cream for the first time with Peter at two in the morning

One of Peter’s favorite things to do with you is take you through a walk in his world

At least three times a week Peter and you will walk around the city and find new things your Asgardian self has yet to experience

Like pizza

New York pizza to be exact

And hot chocolate

Ice skating at Rockefeller Center once the weather got cold

Loves to take you for drives in the more woodsy land of New York once fall set in and the leaves began to change

But by far his favorite thing is showing you Midgardian films and movies of all sorts

He loves that you don’t judge him for nerding out over his love for films

Not to mention you actually sit and watch Star Wars with him

(( maybe it was the whole space element but Peter was just thrilled you liked it ))

But then he shows you ‘Alien’

And it was an instant regret

It took him the rest of the night to convince you that the movie was fake

You made him sleep in your room just for reassurance

Your favorite out of the films Peter played was called ‘Toy Story’

Buzz Lightyear reminded you of Thor

In terms of TV shows

F.R.I.E.N.D.S. which quickly became your guys comfort show

Parks & Rec too “That Andy fellow looks an awful lot like Starlord, don’t you think?”

Peter refuses to let you watch Black Mirror

After the whole incident with Alien

Black Mirror didn’t seem like a good idea

Constantly teasing from the rest of the Avengers

Tony just can’t help it

He loves tormenting the two of you

Especially when Thor and/or Loki are around

“Hey Peter, I thought I saw you go into Y/n’s room last night but I didn’t see you leave until the morning. Heard a lot of noise too- thought Y/n was getting attacked. What was that about?”

“Kid, I got you those condoms you asked for. How’d you manage to run out of that last box so quick? I just bought it for you a week ago!” “Messing with you, they’re just sugar packets- Thor put Peter down right now!”

Aunt May absolutely adores you

Always tells Peter how sweet you are and is constantly inviting you over for dinner

Lets you two have sleepovers in his room at her place

As long as the door stays open

Peter can’t stop laughing when you compliment May on her ability to make an amazing bowl of cereal

She thought it was a joke seeing as she burned dinner the night before to a crisp and laughs until she’s in tears

And you’re literally sitting there so confused, clearly not understanding the joke

Peter then takes you on a trip to a grocery store for the first time to show you a whole aisle full of cereal

It is then that you realize Aunt May didn’t hand make the fruity pebbles

She still laughs about it to this day

Befriending Ned and listening enthusiastically while he gives you a full speech on the franchise Star Wars

And his rant on how terrible Star Trek is in comparison

Is shocked when you ask questions out of genuine interest

Ned immediately takes a liking to you after that and asks Peter daily to invite you to hangout

Whenever Stark adds an upgrade to his suit, you’re the first person Peter shows it to

He shares quite literally everything with you

As do you to him

The rest of the Avengers love gossiping about you guys

Nat and Wanda have already started planning the wedding and Pepper has the perfect venue in mind, much to your brothers dismay

For some reason

Thor and Loki are always within reasonable distance, enough so they can keep an eye on you but also give some sense of privancy

Thor is def always the first one to step in

“Peter, please remove your hand from my sister’s behind.” “Oh uh, ye-yeah… sorry, Mr.Thor.”

Loki would find Peter amusing

He loves to mess with him whenever given the chance

“Ah, Peter. Good to see you. I’m sure Y/n informed you of our task today. Very impressed that you offered yourself as the sacrifice to the aliens-” “Wait, what? Y/n?!” “He’s kidding, Peter.”

Everyone in the Avenger’s tower knew Peter was lactose intolerant and knew the repercussions of the boy consuming any sort of dairy

(( he physically cannot leave the bathroom for a full day ))

Yet Loki regularly will swap Peter’s specially labeled almond milk with a jug of skim milk just for the hell of it

There’s something so hilarious to him about the look of panic and alarm that smacks abruptly across Peter’s face as he quickly stumbles out of the kitchen to his room

It keeps him laughing for days

You’ll just shoot your brother a look of disapproval, clearly certain it was his doing

“Loki, why did Peter run off?” “Not sure, darling sister, maybe he’s got one of those stomach bugs. I’ve heard Midgardians are prone to them…weak bodies and such.” "You switched out his milk again didn’t you.” “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re accusing me of, little one.”

Thor is a bit more hesitant on accepting your relationship with his fellow Avenger

He trusts that Peter would never harm you

Although he did not trust that you would never be harmed because of Peter

It was risky enough that both your brothers were big names in space, as well on Earth, however

Thor knew Loki and himself were capable of protecting you but Peter?

He was just a kid, in Thor’s eyes

However the one thing that kept him from telling you this was seeing how happy Peter made you

As your older brother, Thor trusted your judgement and tried his best to be accepting of his little sister dating

And as much as he wanted to deny it, he saw crystal clear the care and love Peter gave to you and he wasn’t willing to break that for you

Still

Thor is the type of brother to barge into a room and shove himself between Peter and yourself without warning

This man does not care at all

At least Loki has the decency to give you two space as a couple

Thor does not

He is constantly third wheeling on your dates and will ‘accidentally’ walk into rooms he knows you two are in claiming he forgot something

Not that he ever grabs anything,

He’ll usually just stand and stare at the two of you until you either leave the room or ask him to leave

To which he always answers,

“No.”

But with a smile

A smug smile

PDA is something he will never be okay with

Thor will yank Peter back by the collar every time he sees his lips on yours and glare at him, “Man of spiders, I know you’re in love with my little sister but kissing her infront of me is too far.”

And Loki will physically gag just to piss you off

For the most part, your relationship with Peter is nearly perfect

It would be entirely perfect if you weren’t constantly worrying about him dying on a mission or getting hurt

But still, just like any couple, you had your moments

And when you did fight, it was typically over Peter’s safety or him not wanting you to tag along for a mission

Your common way of dealing with conflict was the silent treatment

Which is pure torture for Peter

Not only does he miss the sound of your voice

He misses having you around

Seeing your smile

Hearing you laugh from something he said

He felt terrible everytime

He’d go to Tony for advice and spend hours rambling on to him about how sorry he was for yelling at you and for adding to the fight

Tony would half listen while he worked away on a new system and suit, offering a ‘yeah’ and ‘hmm’ every few seconds which pleased Peter who thought his mentor was fully listening

And after almost two hours of his non-stop talking, Tony Stark had reached his limit

Setting his wrench down on the metal table with a thud he turned around to face the young boy

“Kid, why’re you saying all this to me and not her? I mean, I’m all ears but I’m also not Y/n. I know we’re both good looking so I can see why you mixed us up, but you should be talking to her right now.”

Similar to Peter you also had someone to confide in when the road got rocky

Loki had always been the one you shared all your secrets with

As children you were attached at the hip to both your brothers but Loki a smidgen more than Thor

Your father, Odin, had Thor at his side 24/7 growing up

While he was busy learning the ropes to ruling Asgard, Loki and yourself run amuck causing trouble left and right through the royal palace

Through the years of bonding Loki become your best friend, and you his

So when trouble struck in paradise, your older brother was the one you ran to

He’d welcome you with open arms and a questioning gaze

Loki is by far the best listener in your family

Instead of telling you what to do, he asks what you want, which is a refreshing change

After a long talk with Loki you’d search the tower high and low for Peter while ironically Peter was doing the same thing

When you did finally make-up, it felt like coming home

The apologies were so sincere and genuine

You’d end up having a sleepover in your room watching 80’s films that Peter claimed were ‘iconic’ and laying in his arms

And that’s where you felt complete

Fights never occurred often but bickering ???

DAILY

You two bickered playfully over everything under the sun

Like who’s the better superhero; Ironman or Captain American

Debates between living in New York and living in Asgard

Loves to pull up Midgardian inventions and ask you to guess what it is “Princess, what do you think this is?” “Oh! Oh! I’ve seen this one! Tony has one in his kitchen!” “Okay, so what is it?” “Yes, it’s a chicken nugget maker!” “It’s actually an air fryer but we only ever make chicken nuggets in them so I’ll give you a half point.”

Peter sneaking out of your room at the crack of dawn and sprinting to his

As much as Thor and Loki liked him and supported the relationship

He was sure they’d both team up to murder him if they caught him sleeping in your bed

Steve and Tony, who seem to be incapable of sleep, have watched him tiptoe out of your room numerous times but they only share a look of amusement then go back to their previous discussion

Playing hide-n-go-seek and tag on rainy days at the tower

Cuddling in Peter’s bed while he asks you to tell him stories about Asgard

Loves hearing about your childhood and what it’s like to grow up with siblings

Is fascinated when you tell him about Heimdall

Stealing Peter’s hoodies

Especially his Midtown High School ones

They’re insanely soft

Sweet little kisses throughout the day

He's just so sweet and gentle

Loves getting to hold you and snuggle in his bed

Most weekends you spend lounging on the couch with Peter’s head in your lap while you play with his hair

Other times you’re sitting next to Peter on his bed watching him play some video game and asking a million questions “Who is that man, Peter?” “That’s me, he’s the main character of the game. That’s Mario, babe.” “You’re not Mario- you’re Peter.” “No, the main character of this game is Mario, I’m just playing him.” “Oh… and what is that green dinosaur creature?” “That’s Yoshi!” “Adorable.”

Making out between games

In terms of... y'know... sex

Neither of you were keen on rushing the process

You had tip toed on the line multiple times yet never fully crossed it

Until you had decided to make the first real move after being together for about five months

You trusted him with all your heart so it wasn't exactly scary, but rather exciting

He had a way of making you feel safe, comfortable, and loved all at once

Lets be honest, Peter nearly fainted the first time he saw you naked

And still, no matter how many times the two of you have sex,

He worships every inch of you like it was your first time all over again

You couldn't have asked for a better lover

Dating Peter means a new adventure everyday

You’re constantly learning new things about each other and from each other

Despite coming from two very different worlds

You’ve never felt more connected to a soul until Peter came along

393 notes · View notes

yamalegacy · 3 years

Note

prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water.

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind.

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

#mirko x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha smut #🐇 usagiyama rumi ( mirko )#⚠️ mdni ⚠️#🍌 drabbles & oneshots #i need to cleanse my soul and wash off my sins #at least i didn't write mommy!mirko #which is nothing short of a miracle tbh

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alicanta77 · 3 years

Text

Boys Like This

Pairing: y/n x Haechan

Themes: fluff, angst, badboy au

Warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking, mentions of sex, sexual harassment (one drunk guy gets a bit too close)

Words: 18.8k - this was meant to be like 3k max someone save me

Tag list: @honei-n (happy birthday bubs!! ilysm and i’m sorry i’m not there to give you the biggest hug but have this instead) @lebrookestore @ch3nj1 @ridinhyuck @cacaubs @cheonsa1004 @tyongf-sunflower99

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If you’re looking for the personification of the bad boy stereotype, look no further than Lee Donghyuck. His legs were clad in ripped black jeans and on his shoulders always lay his signature black leather jacket. His usually bruised knuckles were adorned with silver rings and the cigarette that hung from his lips all made him look like the typical bad boy out of a cheesy 90s romance film.

As infuriating as the smirk that was constantly plastered on his lips was, and the way he insisted everybody called him ‘Haechan’ instead of Donghyuck, you couldn’t deny that something about him pricked your interest.

Maybe it was something to do with how self assured he was, the confidence he radiated in simply being himself and being in his own skin that made people almost resent him for it. Or maybe it was something to do with how he reminded you of every boy that your mother would warn you about when you were growing up, being told to steer clear of the boys in black, they would be the ones to break your heart. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as anybody new arrives in the area, they’re immediately told to ‘Avoid Haechan, he’s bad news.’ And you weren’t the exception to the rule.

There’s just one problem, you never do what you’re told.

So when you were told to stay away from Haechan, you simply rolled your eyes and kept walking, you weren’t afraid of some bad boy. You’d moved around your entire life, your father’s job meaning you had to be prepared to pack up and travel wherever he needed you to, and, throughout your time you had heard of and come across every kind of character that there was in a high school. A few groups in particular always stuck out to you.

The jocks. Probably the most famous group and likely the first group that comes to anyone’s mind when you talk about high school. Jocks are an elite crowd, often very popular and normally find themselves very important. For them, high school tends to be the best time of their lives, sadly finding that this popularity and fear doesn’t translate to the workplace. Jocks are a large group as well, in fact, they often have so many members that they divide into sub-categories, usually by sport. You have the baseball team, the football team, the soccer team etc. and then these are ordered into a hierarchy apparently based on the importance that each team has to the school when in reality it’s down to how attractive/popular the team captain is.

Splitting off nicely from the jocks come the cheerleaders. Originally part of the same pack but grew in popularity when they adopted mean girls cliché. Therefore, in order to gain more power and dominate the school, they became a separate breed. The Head Cheerleader was guaranteed to be just as popular as she was bitchy, a stereotype that you were fed up of. What if they were actually nice people and felt as though they had to be rude cause that was what the “role” of Head Cheerleader asked of them? What kind of a place would that be? Anyway, getting back to the point, the best thing to do with this group, would be to avoid them entirely.

Then, usually the polar opposite in terms of popularity, come the nerds/geeks. You had never really been sure why this particular group was always picked on. You always thought that being smart and doing well in life was something to brag about, but then, maybe you just had weird opinions. They formed a cluster and stuck with it, whilst also managing to keep themselves to themselves. They sat at the same seats in class, the same table at lunch and never argued back. Despite their deathly awkwardness and shy behaviour, they were usually pretty good people. You just had to be willing to put in the effort to break through their shell.

Next come the artsy kids. This group can, once again, split into sub categories based on Theatre, Art, Dance and Music but that depends on the size of the school. Normally they just come under the umbrella term of the artsy kids. Very easy to pick on but are normally left alone. They’re pretty chill and mostly mind their own business, despite often being slightly obnoxious about the art that they specialise in. You swore that if one person asked you to go and see their one woman show you might punch them. You’re a broke student, why would you pay to put yourself through two hours of pretentious speech? Yeah, the artsy kids weren’t quite your scene.

Honourable mentions go to the stoners, the class clowns, the hipsters, the ‘I was born in the wrong generation’, the gamers and the punks. But there was only one group left worth mentioning.

Finally, the last stereotypical school clique would be the troublemakers, otherwise known as the bad boys and bad girls The commonalities between the two groups tend to include things like, black ripped clothing, silver jewellery, sassy attitudes and bad decisions. They never stray from their crowd, finding other groups too boring and stuck up for their taste. The cheerleaders and jocks attempt to pick on them, but it rarely works out in their favour. Instead of leaving victorious while dropping the mic, they often find themselves running back to their respective groups with their tail in between their legs. They like to either find relationships with their own kind, or play around with various people until they’re bored. Things are never too serious for this group.

So as soon as you arrived, you knew you’d need to find somewhere to fit in. You didn’t really conform to one of the many cliche groups that roamed this new school. You instead thought that people were a mixture of all of them, and shouldn’t be defined by a single personality trait, but that often wasn’t the most popular opinion. In fact, that opinion is why you often found yourself alone, wandering the halls by yourself. Sometimes people pitied you (usually the hipsters or artsy kids who tried to make you “find your passion”) but, to be honest, you didn’t mind it.

Being by yourself meant that you didn’t owe anything to anyone, and it meant that you could turn the school upside down and disappear without regretting a thing. After all, that’s how you left your last three schools.

---

You walked through the doors on your first day, to empty folders tucked under your arm as you walked towards the Principle’s office. You had barely made it five steps before some guys in a football jersey stopped you. He moved in front of you, buffing himself up in an attempt to look more impressive. You refused to speak first, instead just raising your eyebrows judgmentally.

‘So what should I call you?’ He purred, looking at you through hooded eyes.

‘You shouldn’t.’ You cut back, already tired of his attempt at flirting. You knew you had “new kid” written all over you and this wasn’t a genuine attempt, but most like rather a “welcome to the school fresher” and you weren’t here for it.

‘Trouble it is.’ The guy flirted, sending you a cheesy wink to which you could only respond with a groan and an eye roll.

‘God could you get anymore cliche? You may want to be a bit more inventive if you wanna impress me.’ With a quick tilt of your head, you turned and stalked past him to the other end of the hall, leaving the poor jock with his mouth hanging slightly open at your reply.

You felt a bit bad turning him down so intensely like that, but you also knew that if you didn’t make a strong first impression, you would be like fresh meat to them. And you didn’t want to go through that again.

---

After meeting the Principle, getting his painfully rehearsed welcome speech, then dealing with the three students who called themselves the “Welcome Committee”, you briefly stopped off at your locker to grab the text book that had been left there for you and place your empty folders there. You wouldn’t need them until your classes anyway. You picked up the textbook and grabbed a pad of paper that was conveniently left there for you as well and headed towards your Maths class.

You walked through the door, sighing in defeat as you saw you were one of the last ones to arrive. This meant that all eyes were on you and the teacher stood up and introduced you as the new student.

‘So y/n why don’t you tell the class a little bit about yourself?’ The teacher gave you a wide smile, one that you were sure was meant to reassure you but it honestly just creeped you out slightly.

‘Uhhh, sure. My name’s y/n and I moved here about a month ago.’ You sent the class a quick nod before attempting to move off to head off an empty seat at the back.

‘Ahhh come now y/n, I’m sure there’s more that you can tell us.’ The teacher stopped you in your tracks, as you let out a breath of annoyance.

‘Ok. I’ve never lived anywhere longer than a year, I like coffee and I’m done with this now.’ You quickly moved away before the teacher could stand up and make you continue. You slouched in your seat, crossing your arms and letting out another sigh of frustration.

You had just opened your books and prepared to start listening when the door swung open again. All the heads in the class, including yours, looked to see who would be walking in so late. A boy appeared, his honey skin glowing slightly in the morning sun that reflected off his leather jacket and silver jewellery. He probably couldn’t get more cliche, but he also couldn’t get more beautiful.

‘Haechan, you’re late.’ Your teacher snapped and you looked back at the boy walking through the seats.

So this was Haechan, this was who you had been warned about earlier. You remembered the annoyingly cheery welcome that this group of three had given you, yet this preppy ginger was the only one who spoke. You were sure she was a really lovely person, she was just way too excited about the first day of school to not be annoying. Anyway, she’d told you about the groups at school and made a point to mention this “Haechan”. Her exact words being:

‘Let me save you the trouble, Haechan is the last person you want to get involved with here, in any way. He puts himself as number one and nothing and no one is going to change that. It’s in your best interests to stay away from him.’

And yet, despite your absolutely minimal effort to avoid him, this Haechan was standing at the front of your class, and you couldn’t lie, you were already intrigued.

‘Yeah I’m aware.’ Haechan retaliated, his bored voice bringing you out of your memories and back to reality.

‘Do you feel like apologising?’ The teacher asked, a very forced smile on his face. Haechan turned back towards him, breathing in as if he was thinking before responding with a smile.

‘Not really, no.’ He then turned away and walked towards the back of the classroom. He approached where you were sitting, examined you quickly causing you to frown at his behaviour, before he pulled out the chair next to yours and collapsed into it.

He slouched back into his seat, crossing his arms and staring mindlessly at the front of the class, where the teacher was still sending him the stink eye.

‘Haechan, did you bring your books?’ The teacher asked with the kind of tone that told you he probably already knew the answer.

‘Nope!’ The boy replied, popping the ‘p’ and causing the teacher to obviously roll his eyes.

‘Well, maybe our new student, y/n, would be nice enough to share with you for today?’

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes at his statement. But you still shifted your textbook in between the two of you so that he could see it. Haechan sat up in his chair slightly in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it.

‘Thank you y/n. Now let’s begin-’ The teacher turned back to the board and began the lesson.

After only about five minutes you realised that you had done this entire topic in your previous school. It had been necessary for you to pass the entrance exam here, so you knew all of this already. You huffed once again in frustration, dropping your pen and leaning back in your chair as you began to pick at your nails. Why would they bother to ask you to know something that they’re just going to teach you as soon as you got here?

You could see Haechan notice and begin to subtly watch your behaviour so you leant forwards to whisper to him.

‘Is there something interesting about me?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out.’ Haechan replied, his voice just as soft as yours was and yet you couldn’t resist the shivers that it sent down your spine.

“Well let me know if you find anything?’ You spoke softly, turning away from him to look at the ceiling as he did the same.

‘Haven’t you been told to stay away from me?’ He asked you, not even bothering to look back towards you.

‘Oh yeah, I got that speech. The welcoming committee was quite informative about you and your personality.’ Now that got his attention. His head turned, as he looked at you out of the corner of his eye, examining your features carefully.

‘So...’ He spoke, dragging out the word as he looked at you.

‘So?’ You asked, not sure what he was getting at.

‘Why aren’t you doing as you were told?’ He questioned, leaving you to turn back to him with an amused look on your face.

‘What makes you think I wanna do what they tell me to? They look as though they have the personality of milk.’ You groaned, remembering the fake happiness that radiated off them.

Haechan couldn’t help the chuckle that came up in his throat, unable to believe just how accurate your words were. Nobody in that school would quite be able to admit that that girl wasn’t drop dead boring.

‘Well, you’re a little firecracker aren’t you?’ He smirked at you, causing you to simply raise an eyebrow in reply. ‘I think you’re gonna fit right in with us.’

‘Who says I want to?’ You smirked back, now enjoying the interaction you were having.

‘Do you want to?’ He leant in closer and you could smell the mint of his breath.

‘We’ll see. Don’t want to give away all my secrets so quickly.’ You pulled back, leaving Haechan awkwardly leaning over half of your desk just as the teacher turned back around.

‘Haechan! Not only are you not paying attention but you’re distracting y/n as well. If you’re not going to pay attention you can wait outside until you’re prepared to take this class seriously.’ He snapped, and Haechan turned to you with a surprised look on his face, not expecting you to have set him up like that. He nodded, unable to keep the small smile from his lips and stood, walking swiftly out of the door at the front.

He leaned back in for one second, just to cheekily wave at the teacher who looked as though he was about to explode and it took everything in you to stop yourself from laughing.

A couple more minutes passed before you were bored beyond belief. You were starting to think that getting your only source of entertainment, Haechan, kicked out of class wasn’t the smartest idea you’d ever had. You were halfway through counting the black marks on the ceiling when you heard a very quiet tapping from behind you, You turned around in your chair to see Haechan standing by the floor length window at the back of the classroom. He was on the outside looking in and quickly gestured for you to follow him.

He cracked the window open slightly and leant in, getting just close enough to you to whisper:

‘I’ve played your game, now it’s my turn. Your move y/n, are you gonna live up to your attitude or are you all talk?’

With that he moved away from the window, hiding behind the wall as the teacher turned around again. You didn’t want to get caught sneaking out on your first day, but you also couldn’t stand the idea of letting Haechan win. Somehow the boy was an addictive kind of annoying, no matter how infuriated or annoyed you had gotten, you already wanted more.

You waited for the teacher to turn around and quickly piled up your books, placing them on the shelf under your desk. This was your only class of the day and you were in here the next morning so you weren’t too fussed about leaving them behind.

You began to get up but your eyes suddenly caught sight of blue haired guy sitting a couple of rows ahead of you watching you. He raised his eyebrows in question, as if asking if you were going to go, to which you shrugged and he shrugged himself before turning back around.

You waited until the girl at the front had finished asking her question and, when the teacher turned back to the front to go through the example on the board again, you made your move. You quickly pushed your chair back, relieved when it didn’t make a sound and climbed out of the window. You pulled it gently shut behind you and turned to left, finding yourself face to face with Haechan.

‘Wow, for a minute then I didn’t think you’d have the balls.’ He grinned at you, pulling you out of sight of the class as you began to walk away.

‘Well as you can clearly see, I do. So what now?’ You replied, unable to stop yourself from grinning back.

‘Now we have some fun.’ Haechan said, the smile he sent you this time was the opposite of innocent and it made your heart pump.

This was someone you would enjoy causing trouble with.

---

The two of you decided that leaving the school and skiving on the first day was a bit too cliche and unoriginal, so instead you came up with the idea that, no matter what you guys did, it had to be on school grounds.

‘Interesting...’ Haechan mused, the smirk that you were already familiar with gracing his delicate features. ‘So we cause as much chaos as we like, and do what we like, but there’s a much higher risk of getting caught...’

‘Exactly.’ You clarified. ‘But we can leave for lunch though! I want McDonalds.’ You quickly added, Haechan laughing slightly at your expression.

‘Agreed. So we’ll have our fun here, then head to McDonalds for lunch. Tell you what, why don’t we leave a little earlier than the lunch break so that we avoid bumping into the rest of the students?’ Haechan watched as you nodded in agreement.

You allowed your gaze to drift around the unfamiliar halls until your eyes came to rest on the smoke detector on the wall. Suddenly an idea popped into your head. It was stupid, reckless and if you got caught you would be in serious trouble. Sounds ideal.

‘Hey Haechan?’ You began, turning towards him with a grin on your face.

‘Yeah?’ He answered, a grin appearing on his own. He didn’t know what you were planning but he knew it would be interesting.

‘Have you ever set off the fire alarm?’ You asked, raising an eyebrow as his furrowed in thought.

‘Like falsely pulled it? Yeah.’ He admitted, nodding like it was no big deal, but you shook your head.

‘No, not falsely pulled, actually set it off.’ You watched as his jaw dropped slightly and he shook his head. 'Yeah, neither.’ You told him, before looking away. He followed your gaze to see the smoke detector on the wall.

You both turned back to each other.

‘Well...’ Haechan began, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

---

The alarm blared through the school as you and Hyuck laughed to yourself as the school emptied.

‘No talking!’ A teacher behind you barked, causing the two of you to roll your eyes in sync. Why you had to walk silently during a fire alarm you would never know. If the school was actually on fire you would be sprinting out of it swearing at the top of your lungs, not walking silently in an orderly fashion.

The two of you had had to find a way to set off the alarm, so you put your heads together. Neither of you had managed to come up with anything that wouldn’t get you caught, and you were about to give up when you noticed the cigarettes in Haechan’s pocket. Now that gave you an idea.

You had lit the cigarette and, with Haechan supporting you from beneath as you sat on his shoulders, managed to stuff it inside the fire alarm. You gently blowed on it, to make sure it was lit and there was smoke coming off it and suddenly the alarm blared throughout the school. You then proceeded to slip off his shoulders, him catching you easily in his arms and you both quickly moved into your respective bathrooms.

You stood by the door and counted to five before opening the bathroom door and leaving again. You’d noticed the men’s bathroom door next to you open and Haechan walked out. The two of you blended seamlessly into the crowd of students as they made their way out to the assembly point.

You had decided to hide in the bathroom for a couple of seconds so that neither of you were spotted underneath the fire alarm. You thought that if they noticed the bad boy and the new girl under the fire alarm that ended up having a cigarette stuck in it, the game would be over before it had even properly begun.

Students poured out of the doors of the school, lining up cleanly and efficiently on the sports pitches. You were standing in sections, divided by years and then each class split into lines. You faced your teacher at the front as they called out student’s names from the register.

‘Here.’ You spoke out as you heard your name, a similar call coming from your partner in crime behind you as his name was called. You turned around to face him. ‘Lee Donghyuck?’ You raised a teasing eyebrow.

‘Yep, that’s my real name.’ He replied, looking down at you.

‘So, can I ask then, why Haechan? Donghyuck’s a nice name.’ You wondered, tilting your head out of curiosity.

Haechan opened his mouth to answer but before he could, a boy who you recognised from your Maths class came up to the two of you.

‘Already corrupting the new kid Hyuck?’ He joked, a large smile on his face.

‘Trust me man, she barely needs corrupting.’ Haechan replied, laughing at his friend. ‘Y/n, this is Jaemin, he’s one of my closest friends.’

Jaemin flashed you a smile that you swore almost blinded you. You shook his outstretched hand and returned his smile with one of your own.

‘I’ve gotta say, I was impressed to see you follow him out of that window y/n. It looks like you’ve got some guts.’ Jaemin spoke, his face showing how he was clearly surprised. ‘And I’m guessing from what happened in Maths that this fire alarm may have something to do with the two of you?’

You and Haechan shared a grin and that small action told Jaemin all he needed to know. Jaemin laughed in disbelief, muttering something about how exciting the rest of the year was going to be if this was how you were acting on the first day. You couldn’t quite hear him though, your attention focused on the way that Haechan studied the features on your face, with such intensity you would think he was never going to see them again.

You spent the time making conversation with Jaemin and Haechan, getting to know the two boys, but your attention was drawn away from them when a fire engine made its way into the school gates. All the conversation surrounding you dwindled to a stop as one student asked what was going on.

‘Since there was no fire drill scheduled for today, we needed to call the fire department to determine what caused the alarm to go off.’ Your teacher explained.

The three of you looked at each other in disbelief, all of you unable to stop yourselves from giggling at the chaos you’d caused. You couldn’t help but think that Jaemin had been right. If this was day one, who knew what adventures this year would bring you? You’d never liked a place so quickly like you had here. Maybe for the first time in your life, you’d found somewhere you could actually see yourself staying.

You didn’t want to let yourself get your hopes up though. You had only been in this city a short while, and your father’s job would always mean that you had to move by this time next year. You couldn’t afford to get comfortable.

The boys watched as the firefighters entered the building, attempting to determine what caused the alarm to go off. It didn’t take long before they emerged with one of them holding a small plastic bag. A bad that you assumed that had the cigarette in. The teachers came into a small circle to have a short conversation before turning back to the waiting students.

The Principle suddenly stepped forward, immediately commanding attention from every student present as he began to speak.

‘This fire alarm was no drill. Nor was it an accident. We have evidence that it was set off on purpose and I seriously suggest that anyone who knows anything about how this happens steps forward. Do not make this any worse for you than it already is.’

With that, he turned, and made his way back into the school. An uneasy silence lay over all the students. You teacher walked back over to your group and spoke to the rest of you there.

‘Since it’s so close to lunch, we’ve decided to let you go early. But-’ They raised their voice as everyone began to move off. ‘This incident will not be taken lightly. To anybody who may have been involved, it is in your best interest to own up to it.’

You noticed their eyes were fixated on Haechan, and how they narrowed slightly. They seemed to fully believe that Haechan was involved with setting off the alarm.

‘They always assume it’s me. Whenever anything happens.’ He whispered into your ear and you nodded in understanding. ‘So... McDonalds?’

---

Haechan pulled back into the school grounds after your trip for lunch, Jaemin jumped out of the car and waved at the two of you before heading back into the building. While you and Haechan had a free afternoon, Jaemin didn’t, so, after some begging and bribing on Jaemin’s part, Haechan begrudgingly agreed to drop him off.

You turned back around to Haechan, wondering if you should propose to do something together, or if he was bored of you and had other things he’d rather be doing. However, before you had the chance to make up your mind, Haechan spoke for you.

‘I know where to go now.’ And with that he was off, driving out of the gates and off down the road. You couldn’t help but notice how good of a driver he was, always managing to keep his awareness on the road even when he was talking to you.

Haechan fumbled for something down near his feet, letting out a happy giggle when he found it and pulled out an AUX cord. He offered it to you, telling you to put something on the speakers.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his offer, considering he’d adamantly refused to let Jaemin play any of his music on the way to grab lunch, instead choosing to listen to the radio.

‘Already letting me choose the music? Damn, I feel special.’ You teased as Haechan laughed.

‘Just don’t play that song and we’ll be good.’ He looked over for a split second, noticing your offended face and quickly continued. ‘It’s a good song, don’t get me wrong, but all Jaemin plays is girl groups and you reach a limit of how many times you can hear a grown ass boy with blue hair sing Feel Special.’

You looked down at your phone, chuckling to yourself at Haechan’s story. You scrolled through your Spotify to find a good playlist, eventually settling on your driving music one. ‘What You Know’ by ‘Two Door Cinema Club’ started to blare through the speakers.

Haechan nodded, his fingers immediately tapping on the steering wheel in time to the song.

‘Good song!’ He complimented smiling at you as you gasped over-dramatically.

‘Ahhhh, Haechan likes my music taste! I have officially won at life!’ You placed one hand on your heart to emphasise your point as Haechan rolled his eyes, laughing at you. ‘Where are we going by the way?’ You asked, looking out of the window and realising you had no idea where you were. You were still new to the area so you hadn’t got everywhere memorised yet.

‘We’re almost there, don't worry.’ He replied, not giving you an answer in the slightest. You leaned back into your seat, accepting that he wasn’t going to tell you and just listened as Haechan began to sing gently along to the song. You were surprised by his voice, it was soothing and honey-like, the opposite of his image.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye, secretly enjoying listening to his voice more than the music.

---

You were standing behind Haechan in a quiet little coffee shop, looking at everything on the menu. Everything looked so amazing you could feel your mouth watering just from looking at the display cakes.

‘Any idea what you want?’ Haechan asked over his shoulder as you nodded.

‘I’m gonna get the Caramel Frap and a muffin of some kind.’ You replied. ‘What about you?’

‘Doubleshot Vanilla iced Coffee and a brownie. You gonna have coffee in your frap?’ He answered, moving forwards in the line as the person in front of you finished.

‘Always!!!’ You answered in a sing-song voice as Haechan rolled his eyes muttering something about you being as bad as Jaemin.

He stepped up to the counter and gave the cashier a friendly smile.

‘Hi, please can I get one large Caramel Frap with coffee and whip, one large Doubleshot Vanilla iced Coffee, one brownie and-’

‘Whoa what? It’s okay I can pay for myself.’ You interrupted him but he brushed you off.

‘Nah it’s fine, this is on me. And one peanut and banana muffin please?’ He finished the order and your eyes widened at his choice. ‘All the muffins here are good.’ He explained turning back to you.

‘Haechan I-’ You began, slightly in a panic.

‘Y/n, I told you I’m paying.’ He insisted but you continued.

‘Seriously I can’t-’ You stuttered, desperately trying to get your point across.

‘For the last time, y/n I am paying!’ He cut you off again.

‘No! I’m allergic to peanuts...’ You hurriedly told him and watched as his expression morphed into one of utter dread.

‘Oh god.’ He mumbled before turning around and almost throwing himself across the counter in an attempt to correct his order to a white chocolate and raspberry muffin. He turned back to you with the treats in his hand and gave you a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay, you didn’t know.’ You laughed, looking down at the muffin in your hand that smelt absolutely delicious.

It didn’t take long before your drinks had arrived and Haechan hurried you back into his car, claiming there was one more place he wanted to show you.

---

You were sitting on a bench in a deserted area of the park. Haechan had explained that if you wanted privacy, to come down here as people normally don’t bother to walk this far. He pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket, offering you one which you refused, before lighting his own.

‘It’s always worth it though. The tranquility that you get just from being a little further out.’ He looked sideways at you, tilting his head when he saw your confused expression. ‘What?’

‘Nothing it’s just... Why are you telling me all this? I mean I was told that you were aloof, never telling anyone but a close few details about yourself, keeping everything a mystery and yet here you are. With me, someone you’ve known now for about five hours and so far we’ve skived Maths, set off the fire alarm, brought the fire brigade to school, bought McDonalds, grabbed a coffee, almost killed me and now you’re talking to me about tranquility. You just... It doesn’t seem like something you’d do with someone you just met.’ You admitted, shrugging your shoulders as you finished.

Haechan looked away from you for a second, taking a drag from his cigarette before he faced you again to answer your question.

‘Well, I guess the only thing to say to that is, not all rumours are true. And yes, you have a point, not a lot of people sit and talk about tranquility with someone they just met, but not a lot of people get into trouble worthy of suspension on the first day. And even less of those people are willing to do it with me. Maybe that has something to do with it.’

‘Tell me something, then. Which rumours are true?’ You challenged.

‘Some of them.’ Haechan admitted. ‘I do smoke, I do cause trouble, I did sleep around quite a bit, and yeah, I hurt some people in the process. And also, yes, I didn’t really care that much. But the one thing I never did was lie to anyone or give them the impression that it was ever something more than just one night. That’s why I was “unsympathetic” to anyone. They knew what they were getting into so why is it my fault that they couldn’t handle it?’

Your jaw dropped slightly, not expecting that kind of answer. You mumbled a quick ‘fair point’ and turned your gaze back to the scenery. The river in front of you flowed gently, coursing it’s own way through life, the sun reflected off the constantly moving waves, casting flecks of light to dance across yours and Haechan’s bodies.

‘But I don’t think I’m gonna be doing that again. It makes you feel kinda empty, like you’re searching for something but anytime you come close to possibly having a chance at finding it, you take it away from yourself. Do you see that up there?’ Haechan changed the topic suddenly, pointing to a cliff edge in between the trees. You squinted slightly, trying to get a look at it, but it was difficult to see through the leaves.

‘Yeah, I think so. What’s up there?’ You asked, turning your body towards him as he grinned.

‘Real tranquility. If you ever want to properly get away, that’s where you go.’ He told you and you looked back. ‘From up there you can see the whole city.’

‘But how do you get up there?’ You wondered and Haechan simply winked in response, tapping his nose twice to signal that he wasn’t going to tell you. ‘Will you ever actually tell me anything when I ask?’

‘We’ll see princess, we’ll see.’ Haechan grinned, turning back to the river but at some point having moved closer to you, so close that your legs were almost touching.

Your heart was pounding, yet you weren’t sure if it was from the nickname or the close proximity of the two of, or both. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you had a strong suspicion it was the latter.

---

Before you knew it, another month had passed in your new city and you weren’t feeling so much like the obnoxiously new kid. You knew your way around without getting lost, your professors had started to get to know you and stopped treating you like you were made of glass because you were new, and you had a good group of people around you.

Haechan had easily become your closest friend, his constant teasing covered a layer of love that it took him a while to show to you. But once he did, you were constantly smothered by his affections. And if Haechan wasn’t smothering you, then Jaemin would be. Once you got to know him, Jaemin was almost too nice for his own good, his caring and loving nature making him a very easy person to get along with. There was never an awkward moment between the two of you and already, he felt like a friend you’d known for years.

Apart from those two, you had also become friendly with Momo from your sports class, Hyunjin from Chemistry, Siyeon from History and Dino from Music. But none of them really held a candle to how close you were with Haechan.

You found yourself spending most of your time with Haechan, Jaemin often came too but you realised pretty quickly after befriending him that, wherever you were, Haechan would find a way to be there too.

Your friendship hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the school either. In fact, you were surprised by how quickly it had gone around that the two of you were close. The day after you had gone out for a coffee, you had walked into school to be greeted with confused stares and hushed whispers surrounding you everywhere you went.

You did your best to just ignore them, you told yourself you couldn’t care less what people here thought of you, it wasn’t as if you would be here for long anyway. Their whispers and accusations sometimes got to you slightly, but every time you finished your classes and saw Haechan waiting for you with his sunshine smile, you found all your worries melting off you.

You had always met some pretty cool people wherever you went, but you had never met anyone quite like Haechan, nor had you ever expected to. You already knew that he was something you would miss about this town when you inevitably left.

‘Bye Dad!’ You shouted through your house, a similar response coming from his study as you walked out of the front door. Even though you didn’t have class until late morning on a Tuesday, you and Haechan made it a tradition to grab a coffee together before it started.

And as you turned around there he was. Leaning out of the open window of his car grinning at you.

You smiled back in greeting, before climbing into the passenger seat, grabbing that aux cable he had offered you, and setting down as he took off.

Haechan had officially entrusted you with the music, naming you the car DJ much to Jaemin’s discontent. You were often on the receiving end of his whiny complaints about the injustice and unfair treatment he was getting.

Haechan pulled into the street that your favourite bakery was one, parking his car swiftly before you both made you way into the shop. You had arrived a little later than usual due to traffic, so you quickly approached the counter.

You leant forwards, catching the barista’s attention and gave them a smile before telling them your order.

‘Hi! Please can I have one Caramel Frap with coffee, one chocolate chip cookie, one Doubleshot Vanilla Iced coffee and one brownie please?’

The barista nodded, handing you the card machine as you quickly tapped your phone before Haechan could complain. You turned around, expecting to see him watching you in surprise, but instead he was nowhere to be seen.

The barista handed you the cookie and brownie in a bag before they moved to make your coffees as Haechan jogged into the shop.

‘Left my phone in my car.’ He explained before moving towards the counter.

‘Here.’ You said, offering him the bag which held his brownie. ‘Your coffee is on the way.’

Haechan reached for the bag slowly, confusion all over his face as he looked inside it.

‘I got you a Doubleshot Vanilla Iced coffee.’ You informed him, relishing in the way his face lit up with excitement at the mention of his favourite drink.

‘Why- You didn’t have to do this!’ Haechan whined. ‘I’ll pay you back!’

‘No you won’t.’ You said firmly, ignoring his protests. ‘I never paid you back for the first time we got a coffee together so this counts for then. Now we’re even.’

‘How did you know what to get me though?’ Haechan wondered, looking up at the menu.

‘I remembered?’ You offered, laughing at him slightly. ‘Plus you mentioned it to me a couple of days ago that it was your favourite so I thought it was safest to go with that one.’

You head turned towards the counter as your name was called, signalling that your drinks were ready. You walked over to collect them, missing the way Haechan watched you go with the softest smile on his face.

You handed him his drink as the two of you made your way back to his car.

‘Ready for class?’ You asked, groaning slightly at the thought of your history lecture that was looming.

But he didn’t reply, instead just looked at you. You tilted your head in confusion at him, wondering why he wasn’t starting the car.

‘Haechan?’ You asked and something in him seemed to wake up.

‘Hyuck.’ He corrected, turning away from you and beginning to drive away. ‘Call me Hyuck.’

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face as you cruised through the streets.

‘Hyuck...’ You repeated to yourself under your breath, unaware of the way that Hyuck’s lips twitched upwards into a smile slightly as you did.

---

For the next two weeks you fully utilised your new privilege, calling him Hyuck at every opportunity you had. You also couldn’t stop yourself because every time you called him Hyuck, he would turn around to look at you with the largest grin on his face. There was no lying that both of you were happy with the rapid speed the two of you were becoming so close you were almost inseparable.

You were lying in your bed on Friday night, your chemistry textbook and worksheets from hours ago lay abandoned on your desk as you stared up at your ceiling. Your final lecture had been cancelled, so you originally planned to come back and try to get some work done. Only, once you started did you realise that your mind was just a fuzzy mess and there was no way you were going to get through it.

Instead you decided to go to sleep, hoping that some rest would help you clear your head and you’d feel more refreshed the next morning. However, your attempt to get an early night for once was disrupted by your mind and body purely refusing to let sleep take you.

You groaned, rolling over on to your side and staring at your clock. The numbers shined brightly in your face, the red 2:08am reflecting off your eyes as you stared at them. Turns out it was Saturday morning.

You were just about to give up and go downstairs to watch something, when you noticed your phone screen suddenly light up. You grabbed your phone and lifted it to your face to see a text sitting on your home screen.

Hyuck: yo

Hyuck: are you awake

You grinned at your phone, texting back a quick reply.

You: yeah

You: couldn’t sleep. why

Hyuck: come outside

You furrowed your eyebrows at that, silently moving to your window and pulling the curtains back. You looked down at your drive and saw Hyuck’s car sitting there with him in the driver’s seat staring up at your window. You made eye contact with him and he nodded towards his empty passenger seat. You held up a finger, asking him to wait a minute, and you shut your curtain again.

You quickly grabbed a pair of shoes and ran out of your bedroom, making sure to grab your keys on your way. You made your way through your house, leaving a quick note for your dad in case he woke up and thought you had disappeared, and slipped as silently as you could out of your front door, jogging down to the car that was waiting for you.

‘God it’s cold out there!’ You exclaimed, rubbing your arms to warm yourself up as you directed the heaters in his car towards you.

Hyuck raised his eyebrows at you, replying sarcastically.

‘Well, maybe if you’d worn more than a thin t shirt in October this wouldn’t be a problem.’

You looked down at what you were wearing, huffing when you realised he was right. Your choice of pyjamas, a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, while comfortable, were not doing much to battle the cold night air. You opened the door to run back inside and grab a jumper but Hyuck stopped you.

‘Don’t worry, I had a feeling you would do this, so I came prepared.’ He leaned backwards, reaching into his back seat and pulled out a hoodie of his before dropping it into your lap. ‘Here, wear this.’ He told you, quickly turning his attention back to his car as he got it started.

You looked down at the hoodie in your lap, unable to stop yourself from smiling slightly, and you whispered a quick thanks. You pulled it over your head, allowing yourself to be submerged in the soft fabric. The first thing you noticed was Hyuck scent taking over your being. You were surrounded by him and it was much more comforting than you were expecting.

Unknown to you, Hyuck found himself unable to take his eyes off you. Seeing you in his hoodie made his heart beat a lot faster than he was willing to admit, and, if he was being honest, he didn’t want you to ever take it off.

Hyuck began to drive and you found yourself automatically reaching for the aux cable. You decided to play one of your favourite songs that you hadn’t heard in a while, and soon ‘(Un)Lost’ by ‘The Maine’ gently filled the car, immediately reinforcing the relaxed atmosphere.

‘You hungry?’ Hyuck asked, and you shrugged slightly.

‘I could go for some ramen to be honest.’ You replied. ‘What’s going to be open at this hour though?’ You looked out of your window and found yourself filled with confusion. ‘Where even are we?’

‘Somewhere I like to come when I can’t sleep.’ He answered you. ‘Also, don’t worry, I know a place to eat.’

You hummed in response, trusting Hyuck’s judgement when it came to food. You had learnt that he always knew the best places. You couldn’t help the feeling of deja vu you were having, flashbacks to the time you and Hyuck first got coffee together and he refused to tell you where you were going, travelled through your head.

You stared out of the window, trying to recognise any of your surroundings, but you were on an empty road with trees on either side of you. If you weren’t with Hyuck you would have been terrified.

Eventually, he began to slow down, and you spotted a neon lit diner to your right. Hyuck drew the car to a halt and you both climbed out. He noticed the slightly nervous look on your face as your eyes darted across the dark woods surrounding you, and held out a hand. You smiled shyly, reaching out for him. The second you felt his hand in yours, you immediately relaxed and allowed Hyuck to pull you towards the diner.

A small bell sounded, signalling your arrival as Hyuck pushed the door open, and a man who you assumed was around mid-twenties appeared from the back. One look at the two of you and his face lit up into the biggest smile.

‘Donghyuck! Welcome back!’ He exclaimed, throwing his arms out to the side for emphasis.

‘Hi Johnny.’ Hyuck laughed, bringing you forwards as the tall male came around the counter to give him a hug. He pulled away from the hug and turned towards you. ‘Johnny, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Johnny, he runs this diner.’

‘Ahhhh, so this is the famous y/n!’ Johnny laughed, turning towards you. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you.’

‘It’s nice to meet you too.’ You replied, slightly taken aback at how nice this guy was.

‘So the usual?’ Johnny asked Hyuck and he nodded in response. ‘Anything for you, y/n?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said, having no idea what this place even offered, and Johnny nodded, his large smile never leaving his face.

‘Oh, Taeil is in the kitchen tonight if you want to say hi.’ Johnny said, turning back to Hyuck. Hyuck’s eyes lit up at the mention of Taeil and he turned to you, telling you he’d be back in a second.

‘Don’t rush, Hyuck.’ You laughed. It was clear from Hyuck’s expression that he hadn’t seen this Taeil in a while.

‘Tell him the order while you’re there?’ Johnny shouted, getting a shout back in reply. Johnny chuckled to himself, offering you a seat by the island and sitting next to you. ‘You know, Donghyuck talks about you a lot when he’s here.’

Your eyes shot up to his, your eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise and he nodded.

‘Yeah, you must mean a lot to him. Not only are you wearing his hoodie and you get to call him Hyuck, but he brought you here. That’s something...’

‘What makes you say that?’ You asked, sending Johnny an appreciative smile as he poured you a glass of water.

‘This is his safe space, the place where he comes whenever he wants to escape. Mainly from other people.’ Johnny gestured around him, and you followed his movements, your eyes resting on the seats, tables and jukeboxes that decorated this place.

‘I don’t get it, why would that make me important to him?’ You asked, looking at Johnny once more.

‘Well, most of the time, when you want to escape from something, you don’t bring the thing you’re running from with you. Donghyuck has never brought anyone here, not even Jaemin, and those two grew up together. So for him to bring you here, you must be something pretty damn special.’

You were speechless by the time Johnny had finished. You had been completely unaware of just how much Hyuck had cared for you. You weren’t even aware of the smile that was stretching across your face until Johnny chuckled.

‘I can see he’s special to you too.’

You looked back at him and nodded.

‘I...’ You swallowed slightly before speaking again. ‘I wasn’t expecting to care for someone this much.’

Johnny lifted up a hand, placing it on your shoulder and squeezing gently. You found the gesture surprisingly reassuring and you sent him a grateful smile.

‘For what it’s worth, you two make a good pair.’ Johnny said. ‘I’m glad he’s found someone he cares for this much.’

At the moment a laughing Donghyuck came bursting back through the kitchen doors, quickly followed by a slightly shorter male who you assumed was Taeil. Taeil looked up and saw you.

‘This is y/n?’ He asked Hyuck, who nodded in confirmation.

You stood up to greet him, placing your water on the counter as you did so.

‘It’s nice to meet you.’

‘You too, I’m Taeil.’ Taeil introduced himself, and you smiled at him.

Hyuck held up two boxes of ramen, the smell making your mouth water.

‘Shall we?’

---

You sat on the hood of Hyuck’s car and looked out over the skyline. The entire city was illuminated, the lights shining through the darkness and creating bright patterns in the night. You were mesmerised by the sight in front of you, the beauty of the twinkling lights demanding your attention.

The two of you were currently at the look out point which Hyuck had pointed out to you the day you had first met. It was a cliff edge that you could drive to, and it was only a couple of minutes away from the diner.

Your trip to the diner has been surprisingly entertaining. It was clear that Johnny and Taeil had known Hyuck and each other for a long time, but they made sure to welcome you and make sure that you felt comfortable. They wanted to know about the previous places you’d been to and any stories of your life or previous schools that you wanted to share. There was never an awkward moment, the three of them being so quick witted with their humour that you were in stitches the entire time. It felt as though you had spent the past half an hour laughing with old friends.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you’d felt an environment like that.

Hyuck was silently watching you, studying the reflection of the city lights in your eyes and wondering what was going through your mind. He eventually forced himself to tear his eyes away from you and back to the scenery in front of him. This view was normally the only that could set his mind at ease no matter what he was feeling, but after today, after seeing you interact so well with the friends he called his family, after seeing how beautiful you looked in his hoodie, how ethereal you were sat on his car in the moonlight... all Hyuck wanted to do was kiss you.

‘I’ve got to say, out of all the places I’ve lived, this is my favourite view.’ You softly broke the silence and Hyuck found his gaze wandering back towards you again.

‘Can I ask you something?’ He asked and you hummed in response. ‘How many places have you lived?’

You turned your head towards his and thought for a second.

‘Honestly... there’s been so many, I don’t think I could tell you the exact number.’ You told him. ‘I’ve moved around since I was a kid, we rarely stayed anywhere longer than one year before we headed to a new city which always seemed to be as far away from the previous one as you could possibly get. My dad’s job requires him to move wherever the company asks him to move, so we’ve never really had a choice. It’s nice, I guess, I get to see all these amazing places and travel so much already, but...’ You trailed off, unsure whether to continue.

‘But?’ Hyuck encouraged, looking at you with nothing but support in his eyes.

‘But it’s hard.’ You admitted. ‘People don’t really see how difficult it is. Everyone sees me as the lucky one, they tell me they wish they could travel like me, and see all the things I’ve seen. Someone even once told me that they wished they could only live in one place for one year before moving on, because then they wouldn’t have to worry about caring for anyone but themselves. Sometimes, for me, it really feels like that. But that it’s a good feeling. I’ve never lived anywhere longer than a year. I’ve even never lived anywhere long enough to call it home. I’ve never had a friendship, or relationship of any kind for that matter, that didn’t end a month after I moved away.’

‘You have your parents though, right?’ Hyuck asked, and you nodded in response.

‘Yeah, I have my dad. My mum, umm, she-’ You paused for a minute to take a breath. ‘She didn’t like the constant moving, she always said she found it too difficult. So, when I was nine, she decided she wasn’t going to move on with us. One night, she packed her bags, walked out the house and never came back. I haven’t seen her since.’ You confessed. You had never told anyone that, yet somehow, it felt safe to tell Hyuck.

‘I’m sorry.’ Hyuck offered and you sent him a smile.

‘It’s okay, it was a really long time ago.’ You tried to reassure him, even though you knew it wasn’t very convincing. ‘Moving like this... it’s a lot more lonely than you think it is.’

Hyuck moved himself slightly closer to you so that you were almost touching. He lifted his hand, and gently tucked your hair behind your ear before cradling your face.

‘You don’t have to be alone here. I’m going to be right beside you.’ He promised, the sincerity in his voice scaring you slightly. You knew that he meant it with every fibre of his being.

You didn’t know who leaned in first, nor did you care, but, either way, the two of you began to lean in. Your lips were almost touching when you stopped. Hyuck, noticing your movements, stopped immediately as well, his lips so close that his breath was gently fanning your face.

‘I’m leaving at the end of this year.’ You whispered, not moving away from him.

‘So we have two thirds of it left.’ Hyuck argued, his thumb gently stroking your face.

‘I’ll break your heart.’ Your voice was even softer than before, wavering slightly with emotion as your eyes fluttered shut.

‘It’ll be worth it.’ Hyuck whispered back, before you allowed him to finally close the distance.

He pressed his lips to yours, it was sweet, innocent and everything that a first kiss should be. You lifted up your hand to rest them on his wrists as he pulled away. He moved his hands away from your face and brought them down to your waist, pulling you closer and you wound yours around his neck.

You leant in again, this time kissing him with more passion. You were so overwhelmed with how much Hyuck cared for you, and how much you cared for him that all you wanted to do was show him, and this was the only way you knew you. Neither of you said it, but you both knew this was the start of your relationship, a secret kiss in a hidden place, with only the stars in the sky as your witnesses. And, honestly, it couldn’t be more perfect.

---

You closed the front door as quietly as you could, wincing as the lock audibly clicked into place. You briefly stopped to grab the note you had written for your dad before leaving and scrunched it up into a little ball before throwing it away. You then began to make your way through your house, tiptoeing silently past your dad’s room before making it into the safety of your own.

You fell into bed, pulling the covers up and smiling happily into them. No one had ever made you feel this way, and you couldn’t imagine ever feeling this way about anyone else.

There was something about Hyuck that made you want to just do things. Not in a “throw caution to the wind and cause chaos” kind of way, but in a motivational kind of way. He made you want to work harder, to fight for what you want, to always give people a chance to see the real them, to say yes more.

You couldn’t imagine what your life would be like if you hadn’t followed him out of the window on the first day. And if you could do it all again, you knew, you wouldn’t change a thing. You pulled the sleeves of Hyuck’s hoodie down over your fingers as you found yourself, once again, comforted by his scent.

It was only then that you realised you had forgotten to give it back, quickly reaching for your phone to text him.

You: i still have your hoodie

Hyuck: keep it for now

Hyuck: you can give it back to me at school on monday

Hyuck: or you can wear it

Hyuck: actually no

Hyuck: please wear it

You: i promise

You: night hyuck x

Hyuck: night

Hyuck: sleep well <3

---

You had kept your promise to Hyuck, wearing his hoodie into school and you were blown away by the amount of attention it had gathered. You would have thought that people would have more interesting things to talk about, but the main conversation topic in the corridors for the past week, was yours and Hyuck’s relationship.

Today was the Wednesday of the week after that Monday. You had a single lecture in the afternoon, while Hyuck was stuck in school until the end of the day. You had never been happier to hear the bell ring, signalling your escape from the most painfully boring Chemistry lecture of your life. You exited the classroom, laughing with Hyunjin as you complained about the hell you had just been put through.

He waved you a friendly goodbye, one which you returned before you walked towards your locker. You placed your books inside it and closed the door, making sure to lock it shut. You turned around, almost jumping out of your skin when you spotted three girls waiting for you to finish.

‘Can I help you?’ You asked, confused beyond belief as to why they were silently standing by your locker.

The one in the middle spoke first.

‘We just want to look out for you honey. Haechan is bad news, and we don’t want you to get hurt.’

You frowned at them in disbelief, wondering why on earth they were telling you this. You had never even seen any of them around Hyuck before.

‘Yeah, he’s a bad boy for a reason and we’re just worried that you're blinded by his charms. We’ve all fallen for it at some point, and we don’t want you to get manipulated like the rest of us.’ The brunette on the left piped up as you rolled your eyes.

‘Ok, this is very.... weird. Also, it’s not really any of your business, so thanks for your concern, but I’m fine by myself.’ You picked your bag up from the floor, swinging it over your shoulder.

As if a switch had been pressed, the expressions on the girls faces changed in a flash. Gone were the sympathetic looks and wide eyes as judgemental gazes and cocky smirks replaced them.

‘I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not the golden girl. You’re not the exception to the rule, the one who’s going to be able to change him, so stop trying. You’re not that special. You’re wasting your time and you’re going to end up with a broken heart.’ The one of the right spat, surprising you with her sudden change of tone.

‘She’s right.’ The middle one took charge again. ‘He’s nothing more than a cigarette puffing, selfish asshole. Just remember, we’ll be here when it all goes to shit.’

They began to strut their way down the corridor, leaving a very confused you standing by your locker.

‘Y/n?’ A voice suddenly rang out. You turned towards the sound to see Jaemin coming towards you. ‘What was that all about?’

---

You sat next to Jaemin on a bench at the nearby park. You dragged him down the river to find a deserted area, before sitting down to explain what had happened. Jaemin had insisted that you talk him through it, not wanting you to feel alone.

‘-so they reassured me that it was going to fail, no matter what.’ You finished, staring at the river in front of you.

Jaemin didn’t respond for a minute, just watched you as you finished speaking. Eventually, he broke the silence between the two of you.

‘You know, something that comes with having a reputation like Hyuck’s, is that everyone puts their own spin on it. Everybody likes to come up with new things that he’s done or find a rumour that sounds like him and spread it. He’s been ignoring it for god knows how long, but that doesn’t stop it from happening. I’m not going to tell you how to feel, that’s not my job. However, I am going to tell you this.’

Jaemin readjusted his seating, moving so that he was facing you more. You mimicked him, turning your side towards the water.

‘Hyuck is brave, and self assured, and confident, and cocky, but, just like everybody else, he has his weakness. And for him, it’s love. He’s completely terrified of falling in love. When Hyuck slept around last year, he didn’t do it just cause he wanted sex, or cause it was a confidence boost to get those girls. He did it because he wanted company, because he was lonely. But, he could never let it be for longer than one night because then he was putting himself at risk.’

‘At risk of what?’ You asked, and Jaemin sighed before continuing.

‘Of getting attached, of catching feelings, of being vulnerable, of caring. Hyuck’s afraid of falling in love with someone because, if he does that, then there’s no turning back. He’s at their mercy, and no one will have the power over him that that person does. And that terrifies him.’

You nodded as Jaemin spoke, taking in every detail. When he finished you leaned back on the bench, this time staring up at the clouds as they passed. Jaemin had made a lot of sense and, although you would never admit it, you did understand his fear of being in love.

‘I care about him.’ You began as Jaemin looked back towards you. ‘I care about him a lot. But there’s this part of my brain that’s telling me he’s got a reputation for a reason. That this only has one ending and I’m kidding myself if I think I’m any different from the previous girls.’

‘You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re anything like them.’ Jaemin huffed. ‘And, if you’re going to think like that, if that’s going to dominate your mind, then honestly, you should spare Hyuck the pain. After everything, he deserves to actually have someone who loves him, not someone who doubts him. If you can’t see past his reputation, then it’s not fair to string him along.’

You could tell from Jaemin’s eyes that he meant every word. As soon as he said that, it was like a cloud had been lifted, clearing your vision. You leant forward, forcing him to look at you while you spoke truthfully.

‘I’m not going to judge him on his reputation. I don’t want to. I care about him, and that’s all that matters. And I don’t care about what other people think about him, because I know him.’

Jaemin nodded at you, a smile forming on his face.

‘Good.’ He looked down at his watch. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be meeting him at yours tonight?’ He asked, looking back up at you.

You pulled out your phone, checking the time and your eyes widened. You and Jaemin had spoken for a lot longer than you had thought, and at this rate, Hyuck was going to beat you back to your house. You stood up, thanking Jaemin before giving him a quick hug and running home to Hyuck.

---

One takeaway, four movies and three deep conversations later, Hyuck had fallen asleep. You quietly closed your laptop, placing it on the floor as you climbed out of your bed. You picked up the food containers, carrying them downstairs to the kitchen as you cleaned up slightly.

You dropped the takeaway boxes into the bin, before washing your hands. You thought for a second before grabbing two glasses, which you filled up with water and made your way back to your bedroom.

When you arrived, you spent a short amount of time standing in the doorway and just watched Hyuck sleep. He looked so angelic when he slept, all the stress and worries of the day melted off his features. You placed the water next to your side, moving around the bed to place the second one next to him.

You stepped forward, lightly grabbing the blanket and pulling it up to cover him with it. You lifted up a hand, placing it in his hair and you gently stroked it. He let out a contented hum in his sleep and you smiled down at him. You removed your hand, replacing it with your lips for a soft kiss on his temple and then proceeded to stand up and move around to your side of the bed.

You lifted up the covers and climbed in. Hyuck, as if sensing the sudden weight, rolled over, his arm finding its way around your waist before you had even laid down properly. His other one snuck underneath you, unnoticed by you until you lay down and found your head resting on it. Hyuck tightened his grip, pulling you close into his chest as you were surrounded by his embrace.

As much as you loved sleeping in his hoodies, this was by far the better option. You rested one hand on his chest, the other one winding around his waist and you curled up as close to him as you could.

You shut your eyes, letting your mind drift back to the conversation you had with Jaemin earlier, and the unprovoked attack from the girls in the hallway, and, easily, you came to one very solid conclusion.

The girls in the hallway may have been talking about Haechan, the rumours, the past mistakes and the persona, but you knew Donghyuck. You knew the boy that would stay up until 2am watching movies and chatting with you about life because you couldn’t sleep. You knew the boy that pulled you closer to him, even when he was fast asleep. You knew the real Donghyuck, and you were getting very scared that you were falling in love with him.

---

Time started to pass faster and, before you knew it, another month had passed. Your father had met Hyuck officially as your boyfriend and loved him. You had met Hyuck’s parents too, thankfully getting on their good sides even though they weren’t around much. You had managed to convince Hyuck to quit smoking, something that he had found surprisingly easy. Any time you asked how he did it, he’d claim that you were more addictive than any cigarette ever could be and give you a sweet kiss. Hyuck had been the perfect boyfriend to you, caring, fun, teasing and through it all, he still felt like your best friend.

You were preparing to head off and see him today. You grabbed your phone and keys before leaving your room and jogging down the stairs. You landed gently at the bottom and began to head straight for the door when you heard your father’s voice.

‘Y/n? Will you come in here for a minute sweetheart?’

You followed his voice into his study to find his standing by his desk, his phone in his hand.

‘Dad? Is everything okay? I’m meeting Hyuck in like ten minutes so I can’t be long.’ You said, checking your phone for the time.

Your father turned around to face you, leaning backwards so that he was sitting on the desk behind him.

‘Yes of course! Sorry, I’ll try to make it quick. Would you be happy to stay here for a bit longer than normal?’ He asked, getting straight to the point since he knew you had places to be.

‘Like this town?’ You wondered and your father nodded.

‘Yes, right here. In the same town and same house. Would you be okay with staying here for longer?’ You father spoke, this time raising his eyebrows in question.

‘How much longer?’ You asked, remaining suspicious and skeptical so that you didn’t get your hopes up.

‘Well, I’ve been offered a permanent position here, and I accepted it. So as long as you like.’ You jaw dropped at his words, unable to process what he was saying.

‘No more moving?’ You asked him.

‘No more moving.’ He confirmed and you burst out into a happy laugh, running forwards to hug him.

‘Oh my god, Dad that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!’ You gushed, pulling out of the hug to see his smiling face.

‘So you’re happy to stay here?’ He asked and you grinned back at him.

‘I think I’d be okay with that.’

---

You made your way through Hyuck’s house, stopping only to briefly wave at his parents, before arriving at his room. You could hear him talking inside, so you entered as quietly as you could. He turned around as you entered, smiling and coming towards you to place a soft kiss on your cheek before turning his attention back to his phone call. The smile hadn’t left your face since your dad had told you his news, and you couldn’t wait to tell Hyuck.

He walked towards his window while talking, clearly attempting to wrap up the conversation without being overly rude. You approached his desk, chuckling at the piles of papers and discarded assignments that lay on it. Hyuck never was one for keeping things neat. You tilted your head slightly as one piece in particular caught your eye.

You reached for it, pulling it out from the bottom of the pile and scanned the words, your heart sinking as you did. The title as the top stood out the most: “the to-DO list”.

As you read further and further down the page you saw name after name of different girls in the school, and next to them were a short list of pros and cons, and the number of points they were worth. There were even lines though some of the names with ticks next to them, which you could only assume meant that they were checked off.

You recognised Siyeon and Momo’s names, neither of them having a cross through, but you also recognised the names of the “Welcoming Committee”. They were the same girls who cornered you in the corridor to warn you about Hyuck, and you ignored them. All three of their names were on the list, and all three of them had lines through them.

When your eyes reached the bottom of the page, your heart stopped. You forgot how to breath and you felt as though time suddenly stood still. You stared at the final name, the latest addition to the list that had the highest points and a bright red line through it.

Y/n Y/l/n - 150 points

Pros: new kid, gullible, not around for long, won’t stay to cause you trouble

Cons: defensive, needs effort to be worn down, not as easy as previously assumed

You stared at your name, the tears that filled your eyes blurring it slightly, but not making it any less real. This was a game. Hyuck and his friends were playing a game about who could get the most of the girls. You were just a target to him, something to tick off his list. And he had.

You registered Hyuck hanging up the phone and you furiously blinked away your tears.

‘Sorry about that. I was trying to-’ Hyuck stopped talking mid-sentence, his phone falling from his grip in shock when you turned around with the list in your hand. His eyes shot from the paper to you again, but one look at your face told him everything he needed to know.

‘What’s this?’ You whispered, holding up the piece of paper for him to see.

You watched as Hyuck’s jaw dropped and fear and panic took over his features. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish out of water.

‘What is this?’ You asked again, articulating every word. ‘Please tell me it’s not what I think it is. Tell me that this isn’t some sick game, that- that I’m just some game to you.’

You watched as Hyuck struggled to form a reply, obviously lost for words at what was happening.

‘I swear to god Hyuck, you better tell me the truth right now or I am gonna walk out of that door and I am not coming back.’ You kept your head up, refusing to let him see how affected by this you were more than he already had.

‘Tell me!’ You shouted, your temper flaring as your patience ran thin.

That seemed to finally get through to Hyuck, his eyes snapped towards your face as he stuttered out some weak reply.

‘No- no- no it’s -it’s not what you... No y/n I don’t... I can’t explain it I just-’ Hyuck looked at you, his eyes full of desperation but you couldn’t find it in you to feel sympathy for him.

You let out an empty laugh, one of pure disbelief at your own foolishness. You couldn’t believe that you really thought you were important to him. It’s Lee Donghyuck for Christ’s sake. He has a reputation for a reason. What made you think you were special enough to break that?

You swallowed, lifting your eyes to Hyuck’s once more and realised that you didn’t know a thing about the boy who stood before you. You opened your mouth and, with a shaky voice, you spoke.

‘You know, I was told by so many people that I wasn’t the exception to the rule, I wasn’t the golden girl, I- I wasn’t the one who could change your ways or prove that you were more than just a cigarette puffing, leather jacket wearing, selfish ass hole. But, god... I really hoped I was. And for a minute there, I actually believed it... you actually let me believe it. Maybe that’s why this hurts so much.’

‘Y/n please-’ He began, reaching out for you with one arm but stopped cold at your next words.

‘Save it, Haechan.’ Your use of Haechan instead of Hyuck struck Donghyuck right to his core. You hadn’t called him Haechan in the two months since he’d given you permission to use Hyuck, instead taking pride in the fact that you were close to him to not only call him by his real name, but by his nickname. When you used Haechan, he felt as though someone had picked up a blade of ice and driven it straight into his heart.

He had no idea why this was hurting him so bad. He knew from the moment he walked in and saw that look on your face that something was wrong. He never liked seeing you upset, but watching that door slam behind you, he never would have been able to presume that him being the cause of your upset would have been so heart wrenching.

There’s something about knowing that you’re the reason that the person you love most in the world is crying, that can rip a man’s heart in two. And for the first time in his life, Donghyuck began to experience what heartbreak was like.

---

You ran out of the door, tearing down the streets as fast as the tears were running down your face. You felt small, you felt ridiculous, you felt humiliated, you felt as though you were five years old again. And all you wanted to do was run away.

The irony was impossible to ignore. Your entire life, you had hated moving. Always leaving everyone behind, allowing them to forget you and forcing yourself to forget them. Every city, town or village you had lived in, you had wanted to stay, make friendships that would last a lifetime, fall in love, grow old in the same place you grew up, but you never could. Now for the first time in your life you were finally staying in one place, a place that you were supposed to call home, and yet, you wanted nothing more than to leave it.

---

‘Ok, I’m just going to say it. You’ve done a lot worse to a lot of other girls and you’ve never had this severe of a reaction before. Why now? What’s so special about this one that she’s the reason you’re suddenly experiencing the feeling of guilt?’ Jaemin leaned forwards towards his friend, hoping to finally get a solid answer out of him.

Jaemin had received an SOS text from Donghyuck and immediately moved to meet him at the local bar. He was currently sat across from the aforementioned, watching as his friend had a mini meltdown in front of him. This was the most emotional that Jaemin had seen Donghyuck in a while, and he knew that there was something about you that Donghyuck was refusing to admit.

‘I don’t know, but when I was standing there, looking at her face as these tears began to fall... all I wanted to do was to run up to her and wipe them away. To hold her and reassure her that... that I’m going to be the one to protect her from harm, not cause it, that I’m going to be the one who she’s safe with, the one who provides her comfort, the one who...’ Donghyuck trailed off at the end leaving Jaemin unable to catch what he was saying.

‘Alright, so here’s my next question: Why didn’t you?’ Jaemin raised an eyebrow at Donghyuck’s moping figure as his head shot up.

‘Why didn’t I what?’ Donghyuck questioned, too tired and emotionally worn out to actually think through what he was being asked.

Jaemin rolled his eyes so hard that he thinks he actually saw the one remaining braincell of his that had survived this conversation, the rest of them choosing to jump ship and abandon him.

‘Why didn’t you go elephant hunting? What do you think?! Why didn’t you do all those things you wanted to? Why didn’t you tell her how much she means to you?’

Donghyuck paused for a minute, thinking back to when he saw you standing there, completely vulnerable, with all your walls down for just him to see.

‘I was scared...’ He admitted, looking up at his friend slowly. ‘I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t know what it means to do this kind of stuff and be good at it. What if I told her the truth and she didn’t feel the same? What if I scared her away when I told her how I felt? I was scared that she wouldn’t want anything to do with me if I told her I loved her.’

Jaemin didn’t respond for a second, his mind taking it’s time to wrap around the fact that Donghyuck was in love. He knew that you meant more to Hyuck than he had ever let on, but Jaemin never would have expected for his friend to have fallen in love with you.

‘Donghyuck... I don’t think you’ll lose her if you tell her you love her. But I do think you may lose her if you don’t.’ Jaemin watched Donghyuck’s expression change as the realisation of the reality of Jaemin’s words dawned on him.

‘What do I do Jaemin?’ He asked, begging to know how to get you back.

‘Do what you couldn’t before.’ Jaemin told him. ‘Tell her the truth.’

---

You could feel all eyes on you as you walked through the main gates the following morning. It was the first time you had walked in by yourself, Haechan having insisted on driving you every morning he could, so this seemed to alert people that there was something wrong.

You held your head high and refused to let them see how emotional you were, biting the inside of your cheek anytime you could feel your eyes begin to water slightly. If it were up to you, you would have stayed at home today, choosing instead to drown yourself in chocolate and chick flicks, but, unfortunately, your dad was working from home so you had to come in.

You made your way towards your locker, unable to avoid making eye contact with a couple of people along the way. You accidentally caught eyes with the trio of girls who you had become all too familiar with from their welcome when you arrived and their more recent “friendly” advice by your locker.

‘Aww hun, we tried to warn you...’ They crowded you, one of them stroking your hair and all of them effectively drawing all the attention towards you once more. ‘We wanted to protect you from this...’

You tensed up, irritated and a little creeped out by the unwanted contact.

‘Fuck off!’ You spat, pushing them away from you. They stepped forwards again, obviously trying to paint themselves as your saviours in front of the rest of the school who were watching.

‘Sweetie, we just want to help! We knew this would happen and-’

You cut them off, speaking quietly at them through gritted teeth.

‘You don’t know shit about what happened. Stop pretending like you care about me and go back to whatever it is that you do, and leave me alone.’

With that, just like it had in the hallway, the fake smiles and false pretences melted off the three witches, as they rolled their eyes at you before strutting away. Gossiping just loud enough for you to hear.

‘If she actually thought that relationship was real she’s such an idiot.’

‘I know! I mean, it’s Haechan for crying out loud, is she dumb?’

You screwed your eyes shut, resting your forehead against your locker as everyone else began to disappear from around you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and opened your locker. An envelope fell out of it as the door opened, the white paper landing on your feet.

You looked down at it in confusion, bending down to pick it up. You turned it over and examined the messy handwriting on the front. You immediately recognised it at Haechan’s and your eyes flew back to your locker, scanning it to see if he had left anything else. Your gaze focused on a bar of chocolate, which you pulled out and examined.

You nodded in disbelief. Did he really think that a bar of chocolate and a letter would make up for all that happened? When he couldn’t even look you in the face and give it to you himself? You grabbed your books, slamming your locker shut out of anger. If Haechan actually wanted to make amends, he should stop being such a coward and have the courage to face you himself to say whatever he wanted to. You weren’t going to give him an easy way out.

Before you headed to your class you stopped briefly to dump the letter and chocolate in a nearby bin, unaware of Donghyuck’s teary eyes watching you as you did so.

---

You walked into the local bar, exhausted from the long day you had just had and desperate for a drink. The bar was a college bar, but it was famous amongst students to turning a blind eye towards seniors that may not be of legal drinking age yet.

That day, you had found flowers on your desk in History, your favourite coffee waiting for you at lunch and another letter and chocolate bar in your locker by the end of the day. By this point, you were fed up with it. Everyone had been pointing at you and watching you the entire day, trying to figure out what had happened, and these gifts were not helping to keep you away from everyone’s prying eyes.

All you wanted was to just sit at a booth by yourself and think for a minute before walking home. Unfortunately, life in the form of a slightly drunk baseball jock had other plans.

‘Hey there.’ He approached you, getting a bit too close for comfort.

‘Hi.’ You greeted politely, moving away from him slightly, an infuriated sigh falling from your lips when he followed you.

‘Don’t run from me. What do you say that you and I get out of here okay?’ He purred, his face coming closer to yours so that you could smell the alcohol on his breath. You pushed against his chest, the alcohol coursing through his system worsening his balance making him take a few steps back. ‘Feisty... I like that.’ He began to advance again, making you quickly speak up.

‘Okay first of all, I just want to get a drink. Second of all, why would I leave when I’ve just arrived? Third of all, why would I leave with you?’ You turned away from him, rolling your eyes as you did so.

However, the message didn’t seem to go through his thick skull, with him pushing himself right up against you, his hand dangerously low on your back and he whispered into your ear, making your skin crawl.

‘You’ll pay for that later sweetheart.’

‘Hey!’ A different voice cut through and before you could register what was going on, an arm had wound its way around your shoulder and successfully pulled you away from the creep. ‘Back off.’

‘What do you think you’re doing, Na?’ The baseball player asked, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Jaemin pulling you away from him.

‘Spending some time with my friend, now beat it beefcake.’ Jaemin kept one hand on you, moving his arm off your shoulder but staying close so that you were comfortable.

‘Well, get in line I saw her first.’ He leant forwards to grab you again, as if you were some kind of prize that he’d won.

‘She said no.’ Jaemin said calmly, watching as the jock’s face screwed up in frustration as he lunged for you again, hitting Jaemin’s free hand as he reached out to stop the drunk from touching you.

‘That doesn’t matter.’ He began to raise his voice, the alcohol in his system fuelling his idiotic actions.

‘Allow me to explain, and I’ll use small words so you’ll be sure to understand.’ You had to stop yourself from smiling slightly at Jaemin’s words, his sass never failed to make you laugh and the fact that a couple of people in the bar had turned their heads towards the commotion made it even better. There was now an audience to watch as Jaemin obliterated the drunk baseball player in front of you two. ‘No means no. I understand that may be hard for you to understand, having taken so many hits to the head, but welcome to the 21st century you warthog faced buffoon.’

With that he turned away, making sure to keep himself between you and that jerk and guided you towards an empty booth as the jock was escorted out of the bar for uncivil behaviour. He sat down across from you and quickly whipped out his phone asking if you wanted anything.

‘I was originally planning on just getting something that wasn’t too strong but after that little experience I think I’ll take a vodka coke, thanks.’ You breathed, enjoying the safety of the booth that you were sat in.

Jaemin simply nodded, tapping away on his phone before putting it back into his pocket.

‘What do I owe you?’ You asked, reaching for your own phone so that you could pull up your mobile banking but Jaemin shook his head.

‘Why don’t you just get the next round?’ He proposed and you nodded in agreement.

‘Sounds fair.’ You trailed off after that, silence falling over the two of you as you tried to figure out what to say.

‘Thank you...’ You began. ‘For stepping in like that, he wasn’t backing down and I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.’ You were a little shaken up by it. Guys, especially drunk guys, had a tendency to be a bit gross and over comfortable but none of them had pursued and threatened you the way that guys had today.

‘Don’t mention it. He’s kinda famous for doing that kind of stuff, unfortunately people have just come to accept it. It’s fucked up.’ Jaemin chuckled. ‘People can get so used to seeing someone harass a woman that they begin to turn a blind eye.’

‘Yeah...’ You trailed off again, not sure how to respond.

Your drinks soon arrived, a waitress placing them down on the table in front of you. You reached out and grabbed the glass with your drink in as Jaemin picked up his. He lifted it to his lips and took a sip as you mirrored his actions with your own.

‘If you were meaning to catch Hyuck, he just left.’ Jaemin said suddenly, and you sent him a tight smile.

‘I wasn’t so don’t worry about it.’ You replied quickly, praying that this wouldn’t be the entirety of your conversation.

‘He misses you, you know?’ Jaemin continued softly, watching your face for any kind of reaction as you sighed.

‘Does he now?’ You muttered, staring into the dark brown drink in your hands.

‘Yes, y/n, he does.’ The certainty and clear frustration in Jaemin’s voice made you lift your eyes up to stare at him. ‘I’ve known Hyuck a long time and there’s something about you that’s stopped him in his tracks. He cares for you.’

‘He’ll move on. He always does, doesn't he? Soon he’ll stop wasting his money on the flowers or food and find his next girl to conquer. Don’t get mad at me for figuring out what was going on before he got the chance to pull the rug out from underneath my feet.’ You argued, slightly fed up that this was the only thing you could take about. You and Jaemin had always got along well so it upset and infuriated you that you had lost that relationship too.

Then Jaemin spoke again, this time the words that fell from his lips hitting you like a truck.

'Look, the list was never Hyuck’s idea to begin with, in fact he was really against it. The day you found it was the same day where he called our group to let them know that he was burning it, “it can only cause pain” were his words. The names that were crossed, weren’t crossed off by him. This old friend of ours, someone who we don’t speak to anymore after this, he heard about your relationship and gave Hyuck the list when he came back into town. Hyuck never wanted it, he never even looked at it once since he was given it, and he certainly didn’t care about it or use you just to cross your name off it. And the fact that you think that... y/n it’s killing him.’ He leant forwards as you averted your gaze, and forced you to look him in the eyes again. ‘Y/n, I've seen him work very hard to get girls and I've seen him work very hard to get rid of girls. I've never seen him work this hard to keep one around.’

And with that Jaemin stood, leaving the drink he barely touched sitting on the surface in front of you. You stared at it, not bothering to watch the boy leave as his last words swirled around in your head.

‘I’ve never seen him work this hard to keep one around.’

---

You stepped outside, shutting your front door behind you. You had arrived home from the bar to an empty house and having not felt like cooking, you decided to get a takeout. However, the one place you were really craving was only doing pickup so you had to walk there to order and get it. You pushed on the door, checking it was locked and then turned around, only to stop dead in your tracks when you found yourself face to face with Haechan.

The two of you just stared at each other, you refusing to speak first and, even though Haechan had practiced what he was going to say about a million times on the way over, all words had now left his mind. Eventually you just gave him a tight lipped smile and a nod and made to walk past him.

‘Wait! Y/n wait, please!’ Haechan called out and you slowed to a stop, lifting your eyes up to look at him once more. ‘I, um... I owe you an explanation.’

‘Really Haechan, you don’t have to it's pretty clear what was going on. It’s chill, we’re done and that’s fine. I’m just gonna do my thing and move on like I’d always planned and-’ You shrugged before getting cut off.

‘For the love of god y/n, would you please stop acting like everything’s fine and start dealing with your crap!’ Haechan snapped, causing you to look at him in shock. ‘Look, I’m sorry I snapped but... God, you don’t have to always pretend like it isn’t a big deal. You’re allowed to be upset about things. I hurt you, I know I did. You trusted me, confided in me, cared for me and I threw it all away, and it’s okay to be hurt by that. I’m not saying that I want you to feel hurt, obviously, but... not every has to mean nothing to you.’ Haechan was pretty much mumbling by the end of it, furious with himself for shouting at you when he was here to apologise.

‘Nothing? You think what happened meant nothing to me?’ You asked in disbelief. ‘Hyuck, when I saw that list, it was like everything I had ever thought, every reason I had ever had for keeping my walls up was proved true. I know it may seem like a small deal to some people, but it isn’t to me. It isn’t, okay? You lied to me, manipulated me for weeks, months even, and I feel like such an idiot. And don’t you dare think for one second that you mean nothing to me because the reason it hurt so much is because it was you. Nobody else has the power to hurt me and heal me like you do. And I keep my guard up, I keep my walls up, even when I’m upset, especially when I’m upset, because I don’t want someone to know what power they have over me. Because... if they see how much I care about them, how much I love them, what’s stopping them from using that against me? Once someone knows about it, I don’t have control over it anymore. Once someone knows about it, my heart is completely in the hands of, and at the mercy of, the person I love.’ You ranted, the tears in your eyes gathering rapidly as you tried with everything you could to blink them away. You never told people the truth about how you felt, scared about how they would react to the real you. In fact, telling Hyuck this was terrifying.

Hyuck stared at you with wide eyes, his expression, for once, was unreadable.

‘Love?’ He asked, hope reaching out across his face as you finally managed to get a read on him.

You swallowed, the fear that you had previously been trying to explain began to bubble up as you forced it back down.

‘Yes Hyuck, love...’

‘You’re calling me Hyuck...’ He pointed out, his voice just as soft as yours.

‘I guess I am.’

‘Do you love me?’

Your eyes shot up at his question, leaving their previous view of the tarmac of your drive and instead settling on Donghyuck’s brown eyes, ones that were currently glistening with tears.

‘Does it matter?’ You whispered. ‘It’s not going to change anything. It all still happened.’

‘But it didn’t! Well, it did, but I never wanted it to happen in the first place. I never wanted anything to do with that stupid list! I told him it would only hurt people and now I’ve gone and hurt the one person that I truly love and it’s not fair!’ Your eyes widened at his words, unable to process that fact that he just said love. Hyuck began to wind his hands through his hair as he continued his angry rant that wasn’t really directed at you but rather anyone who would listen. ‘I burnt it. I burnt the fucking list but it was too late and now it’s all a mess and it’s my fault cause I should have burnt it when I first got it. I never even scratched a name off, I’ve only spent time with you this year and I only ever wanted to and I want only you now and I’m not making sense anymore and-’

‘Hyuck!’ You interrupted, stopping him mid rant as his words began to turn to nonsense. His innocent doe eyes looked into yours and you refused to break eye contact. ‘Love?’ You asked, repeating Hyuck’s question from before.

You wanted as his demeanour completely changed. He forced some air into his lungs, dropping his shoulders as he took a deep breath. He lifted his head and locked eyes with you for the thousandth time that night, yet this felt very different. There was something in his gaze that held you captive, even if you had wanted to look away, you wouldn’t have been able to. Your eyes never left his, even as he began to speak and you saw the truth in his words through his sincere expression.

‘I’m not good at this. This kind of moment, this conversation where I admit how I’ve been feeling this entire time. I’m good with music, I’m good with food, I’m good with jokes and making people laugh, but... I’m really bad when it comes to looking someone in the eye and telling them how I feel. Especially if that means letting my walls down. I’m not here to tell you that I’m falling in love with you. I’m here to tell you that... I’ve already fallen. And I was terrified of falling for you, because it was so easy. The way you always remember my coffee order, or the way you drape a blanket over me when I fall asleep on the sofa, or the way that you made me care more about my life, about who I am and how I impact others. Loving you was so easy and that’s why it was so god damn terrifying. Because I couldn’t stop myself. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop myself from being in love with you. I am utterly, hopelessly, irretrievably in love with you. More than you’ll ever know. And for the first time in my life, that doesn’t sound so scary.’

By this point, the tears that had been previously threatening to fall were now steadily making their way down his face. You knew that you looked no better, your vision was blurry and your throat was tight. He refused to look away from you, not even to wipe the tears from his face, instead, he kept talking.

‘And I know that this doesn’t change anything. You’re still leaving at the end of this year, but that’s just over seven months away. And, even though I know how it’s going to end, I want those seven months with you. I do. I want them more than anything. And I will do anything it takes to earn your trust back.’

There wasn’t a single speck of doubt in your body that Hyuck was telling the truth. This wasn’t Haechan speaking, this was Donghyuck, vulnerable, emotional and broken Donghyuck talking to you from his heart, begging for your forgiveness and understanding. You found it impossible to tear your gaze away from him, your eyes glued to his as you tried to come to a conclusion in your mind.

No matter how many times the irrational part of your brain tried to convince you this was all a trick, some elaborate scheme that will end up with you getting your heart broken, you couldn’t hear it. It was outweighed by the sheer volume of every atom, every fibre of your being screaming out for the boy you loved, for Donghyuck.

‘Hyuck, I love you... But I don’t want you to have only seven months with me.’ You began. Donghyuck’s face quickly fell, as if accepting defeat and he sadly nodded. ‘I want you to have more than that. And I know that it doesn’t seem possible, because I’m moving, but, what if I wasn’t...’ You trailed off as Hyuck’s eyes filled with hope.

‘What are you saying?’ He asked, his lips twitching as he fought back a grin. He had never wanted anything more than he wanted you to be saying what he thought you were saying.

‘I’m saying, my dad got offered a permanent position here, and he took it. I’m not moving. I’m staying here, in the only place on earth I want to stay. Because, here, I get to be with you.’ You revealed.

A second passed as the revelation sank in and Donghyuck’s face split into the biggest smile you had ever seen on him. He rushed forwards towards you, his arms making their way around your waist as your bodies crashed into each other. You wound your arms around his neck, dropping your head into his shoulder and feeling him do the same. You breathed in, savouring the feeling of being wrapped in his embrace, the place you had missed so much.

Hyuck eventually lifted his head out of your neck, looking you deep in the eyes before he leant his forehead on yours and breathed out a soft:

‘I’ve missed you.’

You couldn’t stop the smile that grew on your face, nor could you stop your reply.

‘I missed you too.’

You pulled your forehead away from his, watching as his gaze flickered down to your lips and back up again, a questioning look in his eyes. You nodded, giving permission and Hyuck wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours.

You could have sworn fireworks went off. You had never understood that saying until that very moment, but right there, you felt an explosion of love that you hadn’t known was possible. You pressed yourself into him as his arms pulled you as close as possible until there wasn’t any space between your bodies.

You both pulled away to catch your breath, yet neither of you moved away from the other at all. You stayed just as close as you had been, with Hyuck’s arms never loosening from around your waist. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘I love you.’ He laughed, provoking a chuckle out of you too.

‘I love you more.’ You replied, grinning up at him as he raised an eyebrow at you.

‘Not possible.’ He answered back, his voice softening as he leant down to kiss you once more.

Hyuck kissed you again, and again, and again. He kissed you throughout the whole night, only stopping to whisper confessions of his love or to attempt to pull you closer to him than you already were. He came with you to pick up some takeout, he also insisted on paying, but even when waiting for the food, he held you tightly in a back hug.

He pulled your legs over his on the sofa at yours as he fed you your takeout while you watched a movie together. And he kept his tight grip on you as you went to sleep, tangled up together like vines, so intertwined that it seemed impossible to pull them apart.

Hyuck never ended up telling you why he held you so tightly that night. In his defence, you never really asked, and, as much as Hyuck allowed himself to be vulnerable and honest around you, this was something that he kept as his own little secret. As his own little confession. Whenever Hyuck was struggling, he just thought back to this night and how amazing it felt to finally have the girl he loved wrapped in his arms, with the knowledge that she will still be there when he wakes up.

He had finally found someone who he loved and would do anything for, and he never wanted to let you go.

---

Not even one month later, it was the Winter Formal. The school had decided to put a monumental amount of effort into it, hiring out a local ballroom and turning it into a winter wonderland, complete with fake snow, white trees, gentle lighting and sparkly white silk hanging around the room. You would be lying if you said that your breath wasn’t completely taken away when you walked in.

Yet none of it compared to the feeling of walking in with Hyuck on your arm.

Hyuck had surprised, not only you, but the entire school it seemed when he walked in with a smart suit on, a white flower in the pocket and green tie neatly around his neck. It seemed as though all eyes were on the two of you when you entered the hall, and you were sure that Hyuck’s look was something to do with it.

Of course he disagreed. He insisted that it was all to do with the green gown that you were wearing, claiming the way it hugged your figure in all the right places and the slit in the thigh made you look like a dream. Walking out of your house to meet Hyuck and seeing his jaw literally drop was a major confidence boost. That boy knew how to make you feel good about yourself.

You met your friends at the dance, and not even two minutes after arriving, were immediately pulled onto the dance floor by Jaemin.

‘You guys look good!’ He commented, flashing you his million dollar smile. ‘Probably the best out of everyone here. ’

‘Well we thought it was best to make an impression.’ You shrugged, grinning back at him.

Just as Hyuck opened his mouth to reply, your maths professor walked past, unable to stop himself from commenting.

‘Nice to see you finally put some effort into your appearance Haechan.’

‘Thank you sir. You too!’ Hyuck replied cheekily, before turning back to the two of you with a confused look on his face.

‘Was it just me or was that a little bit weird?’ He asked the two of you.

‘Just a bit, yeah!’ You replied, laughing as Jaemin agreed with you.

The music began to slow down and Jaemin, not wanting to get stuck in the masses of couples who were taking to the dance floor, said a quick goodbye before moving away.

Hyuck gently grabbed your hand with his, wrapping his other hand securely around your waist and pulled you in close to him. You rested your free hand on his shoulder and gently began to sway to the music.

The whole scene felt like something out of a movie. The soft lights were gently shining down on the two of you, making you feel as though you were the only two people there as the atmosphere surrounded you, enclosing you in your own little bubble. You found yourself getting lost in Hyuck’s eyes as the music faded slowly into the background, the sound of your heart beating for the boy in front of you overpowering everything else.

There really was nothing that you wouldn’t do for Hyuck. And, no matter what people told you, no matter what rumours you hear, you knew that you knew him. The real him. Not Haechan, not the bad boy cliche image that he puts up everyday, not everyone else’s perception of him as the kid who didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything. You knew Hyuck for who he truly was, all the good, the bad and the ugly. You had seen him at his highs and his lows, you trusted him with your heart and you knew he would never break it.

After all these years of moving and leaving things behind, you had finally found somewhere you could call home. Only it wasn’t a place. It was a person. And you knew that, as long as he was looking down at you with that much love in his eyes, you wouldn’t need any other home ever again.

Maybe senior year wasn’t just the best year of your life as everybody says it is, but also the beginning of the rest of it.

Roll credits.

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jimintopia · 3 years

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prettiest of them all (1)

genre: college!au, s2l!au, fluff, angst?

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: you're nothing special, just an ordinary girl who's just trying to get through college... but an angelic boy with honey colored eyes thinks you're the most beautiful flower he's ever laid his eyes on.

word count: 1.5k

chapter warnings: swearing (mostly jungkook lmao)

a/n: oh gosh i'm so nervous,, this started out as a tiny drabble i wrote out on the back of my bio notebook in january and two weeks ago i sorta revived the idea lmao. i hope you enjoy this little series of mine!

this fic was made possible by @latetaektalk (thank you so much for those helpful tips! i spent a lot of time formatting and reformatting this post and editing the fic, and your advice helped a lot with that!) and @chimchiekookie (thank you for your encouragement and kind words! you gave me the courage to post, tysm kira). also, to @yuvi-with-luv and @meiadore for just being! i love u crackheads; oKAY that was really long so i'll let you get to the fic oops haha

[series masterlist - main masterlist - next]

(1) only time will tell.

College is not easy. But sharing an apartment with Jeon Jungkook is an entirely new level of difficulty.

“Goodness,” you mutter, stepping around the books and pens scattered on the floor of the living room, your roommate’s half-asleep body slumped across the couch. You can’t even get to the kitchen without tripping over something of his. “Couldn’t you have cleaned up before dozing off? What an idiot.”

“I heard that,” he mumbles drowsily, yawning. “The idiot is clearly you, Y/N. Who the fuck signs up for an eight A.M. lecture on Mondays? Something’s obviously wrong with you.”

That earns him an apple to the head, before you remember it’s supposed to be your to-go breakfast and quickly scramble to retrieve it.

“It’s mandatory,” you tell him. “Can’t graduate without taking it, so I might as well suffer. Psychology majors go to hell anyway, so I signed up knowing what I was getting myself into.” You give your best friend a once-over as he stretches, still on the couch. “You have fun sleeping in, Jeon, but by the time I get back I want you showered and ready for a proper brunch. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he rolls his eyes, but you know he enjoys your routine outings as much as you do. Ever since you met in your second year of high school, it became a little tradition of yours to regularly meet up for lunch on the weekends — and that turned into basically each mealtime once you got to college. “Just go, you’re going to be late. Those tiny legs of yours are gonna have a hard time running all the way to 808. We’re not even on campus.”

“Excuse you?! I’m 5’6”!”

“Y/N,” he sighs, shaking his head pitifully. “That’s like, four inches shorter than me. But nice try.”

Both of you exchange an annoyed glare, but deep down, you’re having your fun bantering with him. It’s a trademark of your relationship, one of the many things you appreciate him for. No one you have met so far could match your sharp tongue as well as Jungkook.

“I do not have time to argue with you right now, Kook.” You glance at the clock, quickly slipping your feet into battered sneakers. “There are leftovers in the fridge — by the way, remember to lock the door if you don’t want Taehyung to visit unannounced again — and I left a carton of banana milk on the bottom shelf, right next to the ketchup. Oh! I did your laundry last night; there’s a pile in your room that you just need to fold and put away. Anything else I’m forgetting?”

“You just dumped my clothes in my room? On the floor?”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Wrong answer, Jeon.”

“Oh, fine.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Thank you, Y/N. Now please just go already.”

“Dumbass,” you return, grinning. “I’ll be back soon. I'll bring Taehyung over if I run into him!”

He’s already closed your front door, but you can still hear his shout of protest from the other side, causing you to burst into incessant giggles: “Don’t you fucking dare!”

By some kind of miracle, you actually get to the lecture hall approximately a minute early. You and Jungkook don’t live on campus, but your apartment is pretty close — walking gets you to class in ten minutes, and if you run, you’ll arrive much quicker.

“Yeoreum!” you greet your friend with a whisper as you walk in, tossing your apple core into the small trash can. “You’re actually early for once!”

“Blame Hoseok,” she grumbles as you sit down next to her. “Dumbass woke me up at five in the morning to go run with him, Y/N. Five o’clock. The asshole’s dead to me from now on.”

“That sucks,” you sympathize, but you know she’ll always give in to her twin brother — the two of them are inseparable, as much as she likes to complain about him. “But hey, at least you got your coffee fix!”

Yeoreum lifts the half-empty cup before taking a long sip, a small smile adorning her features. “Also courtesy of Hoseok,” she admits. “He causes a lot of arguments, but at least he knows how to solve them. I like to think I’ve trained him well.”

“I wish I had a sibling,” you sigh wistfully. “A brother, maybe. Or a sister, I wouldn’t really mind. It must be nice always having someone else who understands you.”

“Y/N, you live with Jungkook,” she points out. “He’s basically the brother you’ve wanted your entire life. He has been since we were fifteen.”

“I know, but it’s different. I didn’t grow up with him. Plus, he’s more annoying than a sibling could ever be.”

“And he’s hot as hell.”

“Yeoreum,” you scold quietly, bringing out your laptop for the start of the lecture. “You think everyone you meet is hot. Regardless of whether they’re actually a decent human being or not. That’s probably why you always end up dating assholes who don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves you off, not quite meeting your eyes. “Chill, Y/N, I’m not interested. The boy’s just insanely attractive. Can’t I call someone attractive without wanting to get with them?”

You lean over to say something to her, but the entire class quiets down suddenly, so silent that you could hear even the softest whisper.

Professor Ahn strides in with an authoritative air, several books in her arms, followed by a boy whom you’ve never seen in this class before. A new student, perhaps? Or maybe he just transferred departments. You never know — it’s certainly not too late to switch out.

The professor tells him something quickly and he nods, before jogging up the stairs and hastily sliding into the seat right next to you. In fact, it all happens so quickly that you’re still buffering, trying to process what just happened. Instinctively, you move a little closer to Yeoreum.

“Goddamn,” she breathes, eyes wide in surprise. “Y/N, he’s so fine.”

Okay, so that was a bad choice. But the thing is, she’s not wrong.

The guy doesn’t speak to or look at you once during the entire lecture, totally dedicated to typing up everything Professor Ahn is saying — but you can’t help but check him out from the corner of your eye every few minutes. The blond hair is, surprisingly, a very good look on him, and the way the corner of his mouth is always turned upward makes you incredibly curious. What the hell is there to be happy about such an early class?

Ten minutes before you can finally get out of that stuffy hall, there’s a light tap on your right shoulder, startling you. You turn your head around so fast your vision nearly blurs, taking a second to steady again. “Huh?”

The new guy is tentatively smiling at you, like he’s gauging your response. “Hi,” he says, a little hesitant. “Um — do you have a black pen I can borrow? Mine just gave up on me mid-word and I didn’t bring any extra.” You glance over to his side of the bench: sure enough, the last few letters of the word ‘extension’ are so faded out, you can barely see them.

All of your pens are either blue or red, but Yeoreum quickly passes you one of her black-ink fountain pens under the bench, nodding at you in silent understanding. “Here,” you offer it to him, watching the adorable way his face lights up when you hand it to him.

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver,” he says, quickly scribbling something down. “I can’t fathom using any ink color other than black, it just… doesn’t make sense to me.”

Well, you could type up a whole argument against that, but you hold your tongue for the time being. Instead, you peek over at his notebook curiously, trying to see what he’s so engrossed in writing down. You catch sight of a name printed neatly on the top left corner of the page, and you squint so you can see it better.

Park Jimin. You let it rest in your mind for a moment. It’s a beautiful name, and though you don’t know exactly what it means, you’re sure it would roll right off your tongue if you were to say it aloud.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, right on cue as he returns the pen and you not-so-discreetly pass it to Yeoreum again. “What about you?”

“Y/N.” For some reason, you’re struggling both to find something to say and maintain some kind of calm. You don’t know why he’s making your heart beat faster, only that he is.

“That’s a nice name.” Jimin smiles, and it’s breathtaking. His eyes form little crescents as he beams at you — you! — and for just one second, you can’t think of anything else. A silly crush, you chide yourself, averting your gaze from his face. A few days and it’ll leave on its own.

You want to be right, and you might be wrong, but you have no idea, no way of knowing what the future holds. It’s like they always say — only time will tell.

taglist [please send an ask if you would like to be added!] : @meiadore @chimchiekookie @eyecandy5644 @chubsjmin

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#jimin x reader #jimin college au #jimin strangers to lovers #jimin fluff #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #angst?#park jimin #bts s2l au #jimintopia

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 18, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Hey OP where’s the funny header gif for this post? Sorry, it was murdered by an angst demon and the framing of these shots.

My Found Family Came to Find Me

Continuing our flashback from last time, we see Baby Wei Ying up a tree, refusing to come down because he's afraid there are dogs. Eventually he falls out of the tree, like a dumbass a child, and Yanli tries but fails to catch him.

Unlike his grownup counterpart, Baby Wei Ying doesn't pretend he's unhurt when he is hurt. I'd like to put the change at Yu Ziyuan's door, but actually he admits to being hurt during his Gusu summer - he mimics Lan Zhan's stoicism when they're getting beaten, but it doesn't come naturally to him, and he whines a lot afterwards.

By the time of the Animatronic Dog incident, however, he's laughing off obvious injuries that have secret trauma behind them. By the time he comes back, coreless, from the burial mounds, he won't confide in anyone about his hurts any more, except possibly Wen Qing.

Yanli carries Wei Ying, in a sequence that will be echoed much later in his life when Lan Zhan carries him (gifset here). While they head back, she tells him that Jiang Cheng has a bad temper and to ignore whatever mean things he says. This will also be echoed in the future, when Wei Wuxian says it to Lan Zhan after their argument with Jiang Cheng in the shrine.

Yanli also explains that Jiang Cheng loved his dogs and that he's been very sad since Jiang Fengmian sent them away, demonstrating once again that Jiang Fengmian is a terrible father. Yanli says that Jiang Cheng will be happy to have a friend with him, though. This kind of makes Wei Wuxian's role in Jiang Cheng's life "replacement dog."

Jiang Cheng, after getting over this particular snit, got worried about Wei Wuxian and woke up Yanli to find him, and then went wandering around in the dark like a dumbass a child, and is banged up and crying when the other two find him. Yanli encourages him to apologize to Wei Wuxian and he does, which will not happen again until the very end of the show.

They all smile and laugh together, as Wei Ying looks to Yanli to guide him through the insanity that his life has suddenly become.

(more behind the cut!)

They head back to Lotus Pier in a sweet montage of walking and smiling together, with Jiang Cheng carrying the world's most beautiful candle holder with the world's most wind-resistant candle in it, to light their way back. Back in the present day for a brief moment, Jiang Cheng pretends to sleep and listens to his sister insisting that the three of them should always stay together, while a single tear rolls down the side of his face.

Soup is Love, Chapter 1 of 1000

Then we head to the past again. In Jiang Cheng & Wei Ying's now-shared room, Wei Ying sits on the bed trying to figure out how to deal with his grumpy new roommate.

Wei Ying is unsure what to do when confronted with pajama game this strong. Tiny Jiang Cheng is already a fashion king.

Then he tells Jiang Cheng he's not going to narc him out to the clan leader, since it was his own fault that he hurt his leg. This is all Jiang Cheng needs to hear to decide Wei Ying is all right, and he says that he will help Wei Ying chase away dogs in the future. In fact, Wei Wuxian will protect Jiang Cheng from punishment basically forever, while Jiang Cheng will continue to threaten Wei Wuxian with dogs...forever.

They shake hands on their new understanding and then jump up and down laughing, Wei Ying's leg being all better now, apparently. When Yanli arrives (carrying a tray of...can you guess? I'll let you guess), they stop jumping. Wei Ying dives in to give Jiang Cheng a little tickle/embrace in an adorable moment that would have me saying "oh, my ovaries!" if I hadn't surgically sent my ovaries to hell a few years ago.

Yanli introduces Wei Ying to the emotional and gustatorial miracle that is her lotus and ribs soup. He hesitates a long time before tucking in because he's so unused to being fed.

Consent? I Don’t Even Know Her

The flashback wraps up with Yanli conked out on the table from the drugs in the incense burner, while Wei Wuxian, who is somehow unaffected despite sitting almost as close to the smoke as she was, checks on her. Jiang Cheng and his Uggs period-appropriate sock thingies get out of bed to come stand with Wei Wuxian, and have feelings about sending Yanli away after she JUST said she doesn't want to be parted from them.

Wei Wuxian: If she didn't want us to do this, she shouldn't have signed that blanket consent-to-medical-treatment form. Jiang Cheng: Wen Qing made me sign one of those plus a durable power of attorney, is that bad?

This episode is all about people overriding each others' agency and making massively important decisions without the consent of the people who will be affected. But in a feudal context, it's not a violation, no matter how it feels to the person being controlled. In feudal life, your body belongs to your lord -- your sect leader, in the world of CQL. Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng's choices are overridden by their clan leader's final command to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian's core is arguably Jiang Fengmian's property--Wei Wuxian certainly sees it that way, just as his hand was Yu Ziyuan's to take if she wished.

The brothers tenderly tuck Yanli into bed in the rolly cart and hand her off to Song Lan. They talk about how important it is to get her to Lanling and that she's probably going to be mad, as they thank Song Lan for helping them.

Yanli listens while she sleeps and, in what is becoming a trademark Jiang move, lets a single tear roll down the side of her face. Jiang Cheng points out that Yanli never gets mad at Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is like, true dat.

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

Song Lan is always so emotional about every damn thing, I love him. Here he's like OH GOD NO DON'T FORMALLY THANK ME! STOP!!!

Then he starts to ask Wei Wuxian to pass a message to Song Xingchen for him, but then decides not to say anything, making it super obvious that they fought and aren't together.

Wei Wuxian reacts to this with confusion and distress, probably because he doesn't want to imagine ever having a breakup with his own soulmate. Which he soon will be having. But possibly he's just upset that his OTP broke up.

After Song Lan takes off, Jiang Cheng gives Wen Qing a rude & perfunctory thank-you bow, turning away before she can return it. Wei Wuxian tells her not to take it to heart - basically everyone who deals with Jiang Cheng gets a version of the "ignore what he says" speech. She says she understands and that in his place she would have behaved worse, which is so totally not true.

Then she asks Wei Wuxian if he's sure about the core transfer (not in so many words, because the script is being kind of being vague about it, without actually hiding what's happening). His reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then he and Jiang Cheng walk off, with Jiang Cheng giving us a rear view that had me googling Wang Zhuocheng's fashion shoots to determine if that wagon he's draggin’ is really as delightful as this belt makes it look. Alas, there is not a wealth of photographic evidence for this research, as compared to, for example, photos of Xiao Zhan's outstanding ass.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning see them off, with Wen Qing wishing they valued their lives more. Although, what she and Wen Ning are doing is massive treason, so their lives will be pretty much forfeit if they're caught, so...

The Sunshot Campaign of Like 60 Dudes

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng walk up the mountain for the whole beginning of the Sunshot campaign, which...okay. Maybe it's like Dunkirk or The Witcher where they intercut stuff that is happening in different timeframes, which is one of my least favorite new film style thingies.

You know, for a guy Wei Wuxian constantly calls "peacock," Jin Ziyuan really doesn't wear a lot of adornment; just some subtle metalwork on his belt with no dangly bits at all, and a single reasonably-sized hair crown. Compared to the extremely fancy Lan Wangji he's almost plain. We already know that Wei Wuxian is a massive hypocrite when it comes to his idea of a perfect boy, however.

So, this is the Lanling Jin army, which consists of literally 60 guys, including the ones on the stairs and Jin Zixuan and Douchebag Dad. How are they going to fight a war with this tiny group? Why do they have such a big plaza? Hasn't anybody on this production learned CGI cloning?

That’s better.

Nie Mingjue and his best bitch Baxia make quick work of the 4 Wen guys who were assigned to hold the Unclean Realm.

Hello, Daddy Da-Ge!

Squeeee, it's Lan Wangji! He's taking back Cloud Recesses! Ooooohhh we've missed you Lan Wangji.

Look guys he's here! Look how beautiful he is. He's looking at the gate of cloud recesses and thinking thoughts that Lan Xichen or Wei Wuxian could probably see in his bewitching eyes if they were here to see him, which they aren't. But at least he is here!

....and now he's gone again. *cries*

Hares On The Mountains

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian continue roaming prettily around this pretty mountainside. The locations in this show are such eye candy.

Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains If I was a young lass I’d soon go a hunting

Jiang Cheng starts to have doubts about the whole Baoshan Sanren thing. Wei Wuxian's reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then we have just the tenderest blindfolding scene, (more gifs here), which is fodder for your ChengXian dreams, if you have those.

Here's a good place for a sidebar about what is and isn't incest. Whee! In the CDrama context, relationships tend to be more clearly defined than in western media. The mechanism of confession & acceptance means that people either are or are not in a romantic relationship, with few grey areas. So a character can literally say "we grew up as brother and sister, but now we are dating" and when someone looks startled they just say "there's no blood relation" and everyone is like "cool cool" and that's the new definition of the relationship.

For a strong example of this, the extremely wonderful Go Ahead is about a contemporary family in which a girl and two boys, who are not blood relatives, are all raised together, and call each other brother and sister. When they become adults, they and everyone around them expect the girl (now a woman) to marry one of the two men who have been her brothers, while whichever one she doesn't choose will carry on as her sibling. It's treated as the most natural, logical thing in the world; the only question is whether she wants to make that transition, and with whom.

Looked at through this lens, Wei Wuxian's relationships with his adoptive siblings have just as much potential to turn into romances as his relationships with his friends do, and there's nothing creepy about it. As such you can expect my meta to always get into ChengXian moments without treating it as a wrong or forbidden love. Hopeless, of course, because Jiang Cheng is such a prick the power of WangXian is stronger, but that's a different matter.

What is wrong is wearing this fantastic hat & veil combination when the most fashionable person on the mountain is blindfolded and can't see it.

In the course of this blindfolded encounter with Wen Qing, Jiang Cheng gets to kneel before a powerful woman, be led along by a length of silk that's placed in his hand, and then knocked the fuck out and operated on. He'll wake up in a hotel room in a tub full of ice with "we took your kidney" written on the mirror in lipstick, and he'll love every minute of it.

Soundtrack: 1. Still Fighting it, by Ben Folds 2. Hares on the Mountain, by Steeleye Span

Writing Prompt: The NEXT time somebody blindfolds Jiang Cheng

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #chengxian #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs

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kaeyas-beloved · 3 years

Note

Hi!

Could I please ask for IkeRev HCs for Ray, Fenrir and Luka. What are they like as Older brothers to a younger sister who’s still a teenager, 16/17 ish?

Thank you!

Ray Blackwell, Fenrir Godspeed, Luka Clemence || Ikemen Revolution

Warning(s): Slight spoilers for Fenrir's & Luka’s route (nothing major tho), maybe some OOCness since I haven't picked up IkeRev in some time - but other than that none (do tell me if I’m wrong though ^^)

Note: Hello! I’m really sorry for taking such a long time to write this (honestly I wrote and re-wrote this a handful of times and I still don't even know if they're that great...)

Still, I hope they’re good enough and that you enjoy them - thank you for requesting!

She/Her pronouns are used to address the reader/younger sister

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

Older Brother to Younger, Teen Sister HCs

Ray Blackwell

Ray’s such a calm older brother in the sense that he’s both never intruding in on your personal space & gives you your freedom while still being able to know when he has to step up and protect you (even though he wants to protect you all the time)

Growing up the both of you were close (Fenrir was thrown in that mix too with how often the two boys hung out) But after Ray joined the army, steadily climbing the ranks and you stuck focusing on your studies you guys kind of drifted apart for sometime

You aren’t sure who started it but soon you found yourselves sending each other letters as a way to stay in touch (your letter more often than not having a picture of Belle tucked inside)

The little kitty loves you by the way - you’re his second favourite hooman (it’s cause you spoil him with cuddles), Ray’ll sometimes get jealous when the feline snuggles up to you because he thinks that his own cat loves you more than him

One day though you were walking home from school and passed an alleyway, faintly hearing someone baby talk to something. Curiosity got the better of you and that’s how you found your older brother, cross legged on the dirty street coddling one too many street cats

Though you do travel to that particular spot a lot now (usually as a way to procrastinate destress from school (or simply because you love cats like Ray does)) You’ll also keep them company when Ray can’t

Ray hates it when you go out late at night since anything could happen to you. It nags at the back of his mind a lot, that one day something might happen to his precious little sister and that he might not be there to save you. Old wounds and feelings resurface at the list of possibilities that come to mind.

He doesn’t want history to repeat itself, he doesn’t want to be unable to protect you from danger. So anytime that you visit headquarters and you stay late you either simply stay the night or have an escort take you home. You can choose which option you’d like but Ray’s not taking a ‘no’ as any form of an answer

Calls you dufus just because he can (but affectionately). Might also ruffle your hair and/or pat you on the shoulder

You call him an old man because he can’t stay up past 10PM (Ray’ll then make some kind of comment regarding Sirius and how he’s more of an old man, to which you both laugh until the man himself makes his presence behind you known)

Absolutely the kind of brother to move things you need off a shelf out of your reach before proceeding to walk away with a satisfied smile on his face

Also the kind of brother to tease you about any cute boys/girls/people that he catches you staring at or gushing about (but he’ll stop if you tell him seriously to stop)

Do you like books? Ray likes books. He has a lot of books. Take a book, please he has too many--

If you enjoy reading, Ray is constantly recommending you novels, letting you read them before casually asking you your opinion on certain characters or events when you’re returning it. But even if you're not an avid reader he may still hand you a book or two that he knows you'll enjoy

Like mentioned earlier, Ray is very busy with Army work and such but honestly, out of everyone in the Black Army, he’s the second best person to come to with homework (second only to Sirius). Especially with history. Like, you need the entire history of the Black Army or Cradle? He’s got you, he had to read up on it when he was on the road to becoming the King of Spades.

Really, you could just pop right into his office at anytime, ask your question and Ray will be able to answer without missing a beat before going back to whatever he was doing

You can always come to Ray for anything. Questions, complaints you name it he’ll listen to your woes/answer however he can.

You guys bond over your teacher(s) giving too much homework; Ray reminiscing when he was your age and in high school - he completely understands the struggle (it was excruciating. All the work prolonged the sweet embrace of a good night’s sleep T~T)

There’s someone who’s picking on you? Don’t worry he’ll deal with them >:)

He might not always know how he can help or comfort you since he’s not the best with words when it comes to certain things, but that won’t stop him from at least helping where he can

Will never let anything happen to you -- Ray protects you with his life and he'll use any power he has if it means that you can walk out unharmed, that’s how much he cares for you

Fenrir Godspeed

Fenrir doubles as both your older brother and your best friend

110% flaunts how you’re the coolest little sister a brother could have to anyone that will listen (most of the time it’s the Black Army tho)

Flips between calling you by name, ‘sis’ and any other ridiculous nickname he can come up with (but don’t worry - you have an equally stupid name for him)

Considers you his best buddy (aside from Ray that is)

Fenrir’s also the kind of brother to pat his sister’s head, ruffle her hair, give gentle noogies and shake her around by the shoulders/poke her playfully then go ‘wasn’t me’. Just like these wholesome little things that mean no harm or anything

I also like the idea of Fenrir giving his sister piggyback rides - it's just a nice thought, please don't take this away from me I beg of you T-T

Best bro Fenrir picks you up from school every day, no ifs, ands or buts! Usually, he’ll buy you your favourite sweet/snack and give it to you when he gets there.

Brings Shu Shu along as well and the three of you will talk about what happened at school or anything exciting that may have happened as he walks you either home or to the barracks

You’re both very chaotic + Ray joins in too most of the time. Quite a few pranks happen when you’re at Black HQ (RIP the Black Army when you come over and you three triple team them).

Harmless pranks I promise!

Fenrir may take one of your belongings (a brush, your favourite book or an accessory) and run around the place with the only way of you getting it back is to catch him

There was this one time you snuck tomatoes into his food to see if he’d notice.

Spoiler alert: he most certainly did

After that he kinda ignored you for the rest of the day as payback, pouting and pretending like you weren’t there, saying stuff like ‘huh? Did you hear that?” At the end of the day though he wasn't mad and was able to laugh it off (it doesn’t erase the betrayal he felt tho)

Once in a while you’ll also poke fun at his fear of ghosts, saying off hand that there’s one at the end of the hall, down in the cellar or behind him. You never go too far though - not after the time that a prank of yours left him really shaken. You’ve never seen him so scared in your life and don’t plan to again.

Oliver’s soul nearly left his body when he first met you and learned that you took after your troublesome brother

Fenrir loves helping you with any school work you have cause he likes being a dependable brother for you! …The only problem is that sometimes he doesn’t know how to. Like, he grasps the basic concepts of what you’re talking about, but if you ask him how to calculate acceleration or a parabola he draws a blank - you’ve lost him.

Pls cut him some slack tho he’s trying his best and just the thought alone is sweet 🥺

Compared to his best buddy Ray, the Ace of Spades has quite a bit of free time, which he spends by dropping by the family home where you still live for surprise visits.

Most greetings start with “There’s my favourite sister!” with you adding on “I’m your only sister Fenrir…”

You still welcome him with a smile, open arms and a hug :)

Swears up, down and on his life to keep you and army affairs separate, he’s NOT going to expose his little sister to the violence that comes with his occupation. He stands firm on this decision. This topic is one of the only times you’ll see him actually serious

You’re not stupid though, you know what goes on, and, because of this, every time you hear in passing that the gun crazed Ace of Spades was at it again - launching himself straight into battle - there’s this pang of anxiety that rattles you to your core. You’re sure that there always will be no matter how much times passes

As a sum up - very loving and goofy brother/best friend with the addition of lots of pranks and battle scares 😎✌️

Luka Clemence

You know how in game Luka starts off as kinda cold to MC/Alice? Yeah there's none of that with his little sister

Usually when hanging around her he's most of the time adorning a small smile cause he finds joy in being around her

The relationship you have is a VERY close one considering that, while growing up in the prestigious Clemence household, it was basically you and Luka against the world

Sometimes Luka fears that you’re really lonely back at home because he’s not around as much as he used to be ever since joining the Black Army. Therefore, every week he’s set aside at the bare minimum a whole day (or at least an afternoon/evening) to go visit you - or for you to visit him!

Y’all cooking buddies and I’ll die on this hill

Luka teaches you any and everything he knows about cooking all the way to baking. He’ll even write down recipes for your favourite dishes so you can make them when he’s not there.

Whenever you’re visiting the Black Army and it’s Luka’s turn to make dinner you pitch in and help. He’ll make some of the dishes while you make the others.

The Black Army adores your cooking since you have such a great teacher/brother

Luka lets you hold/pet/feed/take care of Stone. You’re the only exception he makes when it comes to his furry companion

Don’t swear around him he’ll die (that is, after getting told by the other Black Army officers why it's such a bad thing and a big deal)

Lets you hold his sword once but you ended up nearly toppling over because it was heavier than you first anticipated.

Would play the violin for you while you study if you asked him, especially if you bring up that it helps you concentrate better

Sibling fights are non-existent. The only time that there’s a chance of you butting heads is when Luka starts pushing himself too much with training or the conversion involves Jonah

Speaking of the Queen of Hearts--

It’s a constant tug of war between the two brothers on who gets to spend the day with you. Luka’s scowling, Jonah’s pouting and you’re wondering what you have to do to get your brothers to get along (or at least have it where you’re not in the middle of it all)

Very supportive of whatever you want to do with your life. Luka also tells you every once in a while that you can always come live in Black territory or even the barracks when you’re a little older if you want to

All the more should Jonah/your parents ever try to enforce something on you (like some kind of lesson/social norms for Red Territory that you don’t like etc.). Luka will 100% whisk you away into Black Territory to get away from it all, just say the word.

All in all each of the boys are wrapped around their little sister's finger and would do anything to keep her safe and happy :)

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

Thank you again for requesting!

[Masterlist]

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

Pining After You [hc]

Just some Haikyuu!! head cannons about my favorites pining after the object of their affection—you. I’m gonna limit myself to only one Seijoh 3rd year >_> instead, I’m just gonna make Makki’s super long bc love.

I might turn these into one shots. I’m planning a special series to be released for the entire month of May—let me know what you guys think!

Hanamaki;

Ya know, with my last head cannon, I had such a hard time writing for Makki and now that’s all I wanna do.

Cause THIS BOI is too easy-going, too cool, to ever be blunt and up front about his feelings for you. He can’t ruin his image by stumbling over a confession.

Definitely has been in love with you since your guys’ first year—all thanks to your laugh.

Every time he hears you, even if said laugh is occasionally broken with a gentle, genuine snort, Makki feels every single electrical pulse being sent into his nerve endings.

It was a huge part of the reason that he had started owning the class clown trope, cracking jokes with his peers and even the teachers even though that definitely was not kosher. But his almost dry, sarcastic sense of humor always seemed to be rewarded with the angelic gift that was your laughter.

But he doesn’t know how to talk to you. At all.

He tries really hard not to stare at you, or at least tries not to make it super obvious and fails considering you sit on the opposite ends of the classroom

Makki always has lunch in Mattun’s classroom just so he can freely talk about something you did in class that made him laugh or smile, even if it was something stupid like you dropped your pencil or you raised your hand to answer a question.

In your third year, Mattsun is tIRED of it all.

“Just go fucking confess your feelings, I swear to gOD, or I’ll tell her.”

“Dude no, I can’t she’s way outta my league.”

Did I mention Mattsun is over it? So over it that one day, instead of waiting for his best friend to come to his classroom for lunch, he decides to pay yours a visit.

Makki’s freaking out because the fCK was Mattsun walking over to your desk?!

“She’s coming to our tournament this weekend, so bring your A game.” Was all he said before leaving the poor wing spiker to drown in the blood rising up his neck.

You weren’t friends with anyone on the VBC, but you did actually end up at the tournament with a few friends.

Exhilarating was the only way to describe it, up until Seijoh’s loss to Karasuno.

After the team thanked the spectators for watching, you noticed all the third years crying, signifying the end of their careers.

“Thank you for inviting me to watch, Matsukawa. It was really fun.” You said politely, approaching them afterwards.

Mattsun shoves his best friend towards you, “actually, he wanted to invite you. He just didn’t know how.”

Makki.exe has stopped working. He’s too busy spluttering because he literally has no idea what to say to you now. Cool boy? Not even close.

“I’ve actually wanted to come to one of your matches for awhile. I just thought it was weird because I’m not friends with any of you.”

Oh. O H.

“Y-you could’ve asked me...”

“I was hoping you’d ask me. Why do you think I always laugh at your jokes, Hanamaki?”

“Wait, does that mean you don’t think I’m actually funny?” 💀💀💀 Rip.

“I do. You’re funny, talented, handsome, and I’ve liked you since first year.”

Makki.exe has stopped working.

Akaashi;

Akaashi has studied everything he could about you without ever having actually interacted with you.

He knew you were in Bokuto’s class, he knew your name, and that the two of you interacted often, but never outside of the classroom.

He knew that you always carried your school bag over your left shoulder, and tucked your hair behind your right ear when you felt it was in your face.

Your energy somehow matched his best friend’s while simultaneously calming the owl captain like a gentle wave. You reminded Akaashi of the sun rising over the ocean.

Bokuto, oblivious to nearly everything, never realized that his best friend’s calculations went beyond analyzing the ace. One small section of his brain was dedicated to your ass.

Really, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about you, or at least that’s how you felt about yourself. But every time Akaashi swung by Bokuto’s class to walk with him to practice, his eyes were immediately drawn to you for .067 seconds before he’d look away, so as not to make you feel uncomfortable.

Once in a while, Bokuto would let small details about you slip, like how you were in the art club and that you had a showcase coming up displaying the portfolio you had built over the last three years.

He definitely didn’t ditch practice to be there for your showcase.

Showing up to the venue where the showcase was being held, he suddenly felt very under dressed seeing other third years and teachers adorning formal attire while he showed up in black jeans and a grey button up.

Wandering around the venue, Akaashi looked for you or your artwork, his breath held in his lungs when he saw the arsenal of works displayed on large black boards with your name written elegantly at the very top. Made with various mediums, he was stunned by different paintings and drawings of surreal, exquisite landscapes that could not possibly exist.

Then again, he didn’t think you were real either.

One particular painting invoked a strange emotion in him—a large, desecrated shipwreck amongst of field of bright flowers with the sun setting in the back. Titled “Crack The Sky”, the piece emanated joy and grief in one. It was almost as stunning as you were.

“This one’s my favorite.” You announced sheepishly from beside him and he realized he had never heard your voice before. The setter turned to look at you, drinking in your appearance up close for the first time. “You’re Bokuto’s friend, aren’t you? Akaashi?”

He was kinda hurt to hear you mention Bokuto for reasons unknown to himself jealous much?

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” He bows slightly, remember that no matter how infatuated he was with you, you were still his senpai.

He began walking with you as you explained the creation process of your different pieces. Not that he was actually paying attention, though he’d never admit that. He just liked hearing you talk and he would definitely never admit that.

You excuse yourself as your phone rings, though you don’t walk away, allowing him to hear your end of the conversation. “Yep, he’s here. I owe you dinner. You wanna talk to him?” Akaashi cocks a brow in your direction, staring at your cellphone that you’ve now held over to him. Bokuto’s name flashed on the screen.

“Uh, hi?” The setter asked, confused.

“I made a bet with her that you would ditch practice to go to her showcase because yOu LoVe HeR.”

Aight, imma head out.

Before he could run away out of embarrassment, you grabbed his wrist though you were still on the phone with Bokuto.

“Would you like to join us for dinner? Seems kinda unfair for him to get dinner when you’re the one who made the effort to be here.”

Akaashi graciously accepts to which you respond by telling Bokuto where you would meet him for the evening.

“So you love me, huh?” 💀💀💀 If Akaashi could magically disappear, he would. Or even better, if his blush ran hot enough to melt the skin off his face, that’d be great too.

But you never let go of his wrist until now, opting to wrap an arm around his instead.

“I like you too. Why do you think Bokuto and I made a bet about you coming here, silly?”

Kenma;

Poor Kenma. The worst part of his whole situation was actually being friends with you, knowing he would never get to have you.

Why would you want him, anyway? You were more fit for someone like Kuroo—someone who was as boisterous and confident as you were. He anticipated the day you two announced your relationship and left him behind in your little trio.

Not even Kuroo knew that he was in love with you and maybe that was a mistake on his part but he could never tell his best friend that you were his entire world. It was too embarrassing for him.

It took entirely too much energy to even sort through his feelings alone, how much more exhausting would it be for him to run through every single thing he felt about you to someone else?

Like the way you would nearly skip out your home every morning when the boys came to fetch you to walk to school together.

Or the way you unabashedly asked almost too personal of questions, or questions that were just soooo left field of you were friends with a person. “Hey Kuroo, how many brushes do you think you would break if you finally decided to brush your hair after 17 years?” Was one of Kenma’s favorites.

The way you sing along to every song that plays on your iPod or even the radio, even if you didn’t know the song, you would try to sing along anyway.

Some days, Kenma would look out the window and see you practicing some form of a dance routine in your backyard. He would watch you for hours until you went inside, suddenly feeling shame for being so creepy.

Nearly every night, Kenma just wished he could turn his feelings off while simultaneously wishing you were next to him so he could hold you while he slept.

Your smile was his favorite. Seeing you smile every morning as the three of you walked to school together was what got him through his day. “Hey, hey are you guys coming to my dance competition tomorrow?” You asked in your typical, jovial lilt.

“Of course.” Was all he was able to reply, while Kuroo enthusiastically responded about their attendance.

“Great! I can’t wait to see you guys in the crowd!”

The “C” word, was almost enough to make Kenna regret his decision to come. Even more so when he was surrounded by the masses, all waiting to watch their respective dance teams. But it was for you, and he would do anything for you.

Kuroo was right beside him, a small bouquet of roses in his hand to give to you after you competed. The blood red flowers made Kenna glower and glare in secret, or as secretive as he could be. “I got these for you.” The captain says quietly, handing them over to his best friend.

“Sorry, Kuroo, I can’t say I return your feelings—“

“For you to give to her, you idiot.” 🤡🤡🤡 “I’m not that dumb, Kenma.” The setter really wanted to argue and say that he was, but your school’s dance team was up to perform so he opted to stay quiet.

Have I mentioned that Kenma loves watching you dance? There was a reason he would watch you practice in your backyard. You moved with elegance and grace that was foreign and so opposite to his own demeanor, it was no wonder he was always so captivated by you.

After you compete, there’s a bit of downtime between the other competitors and the awards ceremony, giving you the chance to hang out with your besties.

“These are for you.” The second year says quietly, handing you the bouquet with a blush dusting over his cheeks. The red rivaled that of the roses.

“Aw, thank you, Kenma!” You squeaked out before giving him a kiss on the cheek, his skin burning even hotter. Kuroo’s just over there laughing but ya know.

During the awards ceremony, you’re sitting in a circle with your team not too far from your friends while they announced that Nekoma had taken first. Everyone in the dance troupe began screaming and hugging each other, while you ran straight to your boys.

While still jumping, you were hugging Kuroo so tight, arms squeezing around his neck while sharing the joy. Which made Kenma just a little bit jealous.

Just a little.

Until you’ve settled down from your jumping before wrapping your arms his neck as well. But rather than going for a hug—

Wait what is hAPOENING

You brought your lips to his briefly before burying your face into his neck out of embarrassment because wHY you had thought that was a good idea was beyond you.

Deciding you couldn’t just keep holding onto him, because he was probably embarrassed too, you stepped away, ready to run back to your team. But Kenma didn’t let go, his arms seated securely at your hips as he stared at you.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know w-w—“

“I love you.”

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

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haikyuuwaifu · 4 years

Text

Miss Independent

Genre: Crack, Humor, Drama, NSFW, Mild Angst

Warning: Mild Angst

Kenma x Osamu x Suna x Reader Poly

Masterlist

D & Y| Kenma & Sachi| O & Y| S &Y

‘Lose You To Love Me’ Selena Gomez

Kenma & Sachi

Kenma Kozume had always been a bit of a shy and introverted child. He spent most of his time playing with the neighborhood cats or on his gaming console at home. He couldn’t “connect” with his peers around him, and that didn’t bother him. When Kuroo moved into the neighborhood, Kenma resigned himself to having at least one friend; and again that was enough for him. Kuroo seemed to be really good at reading people because he knew when Kenma needed a push and when he needed to leave him be. It also helped that Kenma only saw Kuroo during the school week. Apparently he had a best friend in Miyagi he went to see every other weekend.

And so things went, from 7 to 15 Kenma only had Kuroo and that was all he needed...until he met Sachi.

Sachi was his assigned seat partner for his homeroom class. During the first few days of school he didn’t really pay her any mind playing games on his phone during his breaks or spending lunch with Kuroo. He had no plans to get to know anyone in his class, when she had turned to him one day to ask if she could borrow a pencil. Apparently she had left her pouch in her locker and had forgotten about it entirely. That day, was the beginning...

Kenma, was new to the concept of social interactions and dating. Sachi had been in one relationship prior to Kenma back in middle school, but she didn’t count that one. So most of their relationship milestones she had initiated. She was the first one to confess to him and she was also the first one to kiss him. After a few months of tentative kissing and hand holding, Kenma became more comfortable with their relationship and attempted to be the first to initiate things.

Being new to relationships put Kenma in a precarious position of naivety. His only form of social interaction, was with Kuroo. So when Sachi asked him to change his style, so they could match he didn’t question it. He also didn’t question it when she would ask him to buy her lunch every day and take her out on dates every weekend. He had a good following on twitch. He had been streaming for a while now, so he didn’t mind. He just wanted her to be happy.

And Sachi was happy. She had her very own doll, to do as she pleased too; He didn’t know any better so it didn’t matter. He would never question her after all. As Kenma and Sachi’s relationship progressed, Kenma’s appearance and mannerisms started changing. As happy as Kuroo was for his friend, he didn’t know if he liked the changes he was seeing. So naturally Kuroo brought it up to his best friend Y/N. “As much as you want to protect him, he’s not going to learn anything if he doesn’t figure it out for himself.” she had told him. So Kuroo let it be. If Kenma was happy, then he would learn to be happy for him.

Before Kenma knew it, the first year had flown by and he and Sachi were planning to spend their one year together. They were second years now and he had planned a special night where they could be each others firsts. He had recruited the help of Kuroo, to set up his home, as his parents were going to be out of town. That morning he left for school, confident and pleased with the surprise he had set up for his girlfriend.

Reaching the school gates, Kenma walked inside swapping his shoes for his indoor slip-ons. Making his way to his classroom, he missed the strange looks he was receiving from the rest of the second years. Kenma, pulled out his phone to see if he had missed any texts from Sachi, when he made his way to his homeroom. Picking his head up, his eyes met the sight of his girlfriend of one year locked into a tight embrace of a third year he didn’t know the name of. Someone had called her name, only for her to turn towards Kenma; a sacharine smile on her face. “S-Sachi?...” he stuttered out, his heart hammering in his chest. She smirked at him. “You didn’t really think someone like me, could love someone like you did you?” she asked laughing softly. “Why...why would you do something like this?” he mumbled eyes cast down towards the floor. Sachi scoffed lightly. “I was only with you, because my friends made a bet to see how long I could stand being with a loser like you.” “I won out, since I made it an entire year.” she giggled stepping into her boyfriends embrace. “I just find it so hilarious that you think I actually loved you! I mean look at you!” she snarled, voice filled with hatred. “Who could ever love you?” she asked malicious grin adorning her face. All Kenma could do, was turn and stumble towards the exit as hot tears threatened to stream down his face. Sliding his shoes on, he shouldered his backpack and ran the rest of the way home. Curling on his bed, he let the tears fall as his brain was consumed with the last year, and how all of it was just a lie.

-Kenma didn’t show back up to school for two weeks. Kuroo hadn’t seen him in that time span either. He made sure to text Kuroo daily, but he wanted to be alone.

-What most people didn’t know about Kenma, was that he liked working out. It helped him focus his mind and ease the stresses of school and volleyball. Under his baggy clothes was the body of a greek god ;)

-During those two weeks he spent out of school, Kenma changed his entire aesthetic. Gone was the streaky dye job, replaced by something professionally done. His clothes were tight and showed off the body he worked hard for; and instead of the naïve look of wonder, his eyes showcased a harsh coldness.

-Returning to Nekoma students could hardly recognize him. Instead of the quiet shy boy everyone thought he was; Kenma proved everyone wrong, when he started flirting and interacting with the opposite sex. First, he started by sleeping with Sachi’s friends. None of them were going to turn a sex god like him down; because believe it or not; the mans was a sex god.

-From that moment forward, Kenma didn’t do relationships; and he didn’t do casual flings either. A different girl warmed his bed when the need arose and that was it. He’d never let what happened with Sachi happen to him again.

@dabilove27 @amberisnotcrazy @elianetsantana @cloudyxlay @exosehun-94

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

In Your Charge

*This one was fun to write! Felix fluff is always nice!*

Prompt: Felix has a crush on the new girl but she’s always surrounded by a group of mean girls. That all changes when Peter puts Felix in charge of her. Fluff ensues.

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: language

~~~

This new girl was beginning to be a problem. Felix was never particularly close to any of the Lost Girls on the island. They were fine but he kept his distance from them most of the time. It was also made easy since the girls seemed to avoid him. Whether they were scared of him or just didn’t like him he didn’t really care.

Then the new girl came. She dropped into Neverland with a sharp smile and even sharper tongue. She was a quick thinker and light on her feet. Felix had taken notice immediately.

It started innocently enough. He’d watch her during training admiring how hard she tried even after getting knocked to the ground a hundred times. She was stubborn if nothing else. Then he was watching her at camp when she danced around the fire. It was effortless the way she moved and he was lost to the sway of her hips and the wide smile that adorned her face as she spun around the fire. He was lost to her completely.

Now relationships between the Lost Girls and Lost Boys was nothing new. They would get together and break up and get back together all the time. Out of all the Lost Boys though Felix was never one that the girls approached. At first he hadn’t minded since, again, he hadn’t really cared about them one way or another. Then Y/N came along.

Before he had always been too nervous to approach her but when he did work up the courage he was blocked by the girls surrounding her. He wasn’t naive to what those girls said about him either.

“He’s such a beanpole!”

“That scar on his face is so gross.”

“He’s always so grumpy. It’s actually kinda freaky.”

“Doesn’t he ever smile?”

“He’s probably sad because he knows he’s not as cute as any of the other boys.”

“No one is ever gonna want to be with him.”

Who were these girls to say such things about him? If there was any saving grace it was that Y/N stood up for him as best she could. She’d tell the girls to shut up and stop being so mean.

“Have any of you even talked to him?” She would shoot at them. “You don’t even know him.”

It gave Felix hope when he heard her defending him.

“Another day admiring the view, Felix?” Pan stood next to him. Y/N was sitting in a circle along with a bunch of the girls. “You do know you can go talk to her, right?”

“I can’t get close enough.” Felix scoffed, “Those girls are like attack dogs. They won’t even let me near her.”

“I think I have an idea around that.” Pan smiled in that way that let Felix know he was plotting something.

~~~

I sat with my friends in the middle of the camp. Ever since I landed in Neverland the Lost Girls had adopted me as one of their own. They were nice and fun to be around but they were so unnecessarily mean to the boys. Well...one boy.

Felix.

Oh Felix…

I had no idea why the girls were so against him. He was a tall, lean, blonde with bright eyes and a sexy scar running down his face that made him look dangerous and mysterious. Not to mention that he was also one of the best fighters on the island and Pan’s second in command.

She hated when the girls made fun of him. It was almost like a game to them. We would be talking about something else entirely but the second they saw Felix come within earshot the conversation would pivot to rag on him.

At first I didn’t know what to say or do about it. I didn’t know Felix. I wanted to but I was too scared to go talk to him. One thing the girls got right was that he was almost always scowling by himself which made him hard to want to approach. So I stayed silent.

Then came the day where I spotted Felix out by himself. I had gone off on my own for some quiet time and found Felix relaxing in the shade of a tree with a small serene smile on his face. He was drumming out a little tune on his thigh with his fingers. I stood for a moment mesmerized.

Everything about him drew me in. But it was that one moment of piece that truly cemented the growing feelings I had. I had a crush on Felix. After that I would tell the girls to shut up when they started ragging on Felix but it never stopped them for long.

I was trying to plot a way to get Felix alone so I could talk to him when Pan called me over away from the girls. Everyone went silent assuming that I must be in trouble. I can’t understand how though since I hadn’t even been here a month. “Walk with me,” he ushered me away from the camp, “You too, Felix.” Pan called over his shoulder.

Why was he bringing Felix? He was his second in command so it shouldn’t have been too shocking. Maybe this is a good thing. If after Pan is done with me I can talk to Felix before we go back to camp.

“This should be far enough.” Pan stopped and addressed the Lost Boy and Girl in front of him.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, new girl. You’re not in trouble.” Pan assured her, “But I have to say that I am concerned. You have been here a month and you still cannot defend yourself. You struggle in training and cannot beat even our easiest of combatants.”

“I know. Fighting is something I’m not used to but I have been trying my best to improve.” I said.

It was embarrassing really how badly I just didn’t get fighting. I kept getting up but it didn’t stop the fact that it took no effort on my partner’s end to take me back down again. It’s part of the reason I was always with the girls. They were better at defending themselves so if we ever ran across pirates or wild animals in the jungle then they could fight them and I could keep safe in the huddle. It was embarrassing but necessary until I got better.

“I understand but I need you to progress faster. Which is why Felix is here.” Pan motioned him closer, “Felix is the strongest and best fighter on the island, second to me of course. From now on he is in charge of your training and will be your escort around the island.”

“What?” Felix and I said at the same time.

“Pan,” Felix took him aside, “This is your grand idea? Are you insane?”

“Shut up and go with it.” Pan told him. They turned back towards me. “I assume that this won’t be a problem for you two.”

“No. Not at all. I just don’t want Felix to have to waste his time following me around. I have the girls and they work just as well…” What am I saying? This is what I wanted! Someone stop my stupid mouth from spouting this nonsense!

“Those girls coddle you.” Pan said, “They’re making you soft. You will stick with Felix for the foreseeable future. It’s not like he has much else to do anyway.”

“Pan…” Felix stressed.

“Have fun you two. Do not leave her side, Felix.” Pan pointed at them and then left leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m sorry,” I said automatically, “I bet you wish you didn’t have to get saddled with me, huh?”

“Oh no,” Felix rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t mind.”

“At least this’ll give us a chance to get to know one another better. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the chance to really talk to you.”

Felix’s features softened. “Nor I you.” He looked away, “Since you’re in my charge now how about we go for a walk? I can give you some pointers I know the girls probably hadn’t told you.”

“Sure, that sounds nice.” I smiled. This was almost too good to be true!

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking aimlessly around the island. Felix gave me a lot of advice about fighting and little things to help improve my form. He promised that we would go over them more in depth tomorrow at training. Soon the conversation turned into more casual things. Personal things. We talked about where we were from before Neverland and what things we liked. He told me funny stories and adventures the Lost Boys had gone on before they started recruiting girls on the island.

I didn’t even notice it was getting dark until Felix started searching for a good enough stick to make a torch. There wasn’t a lot of vicious animals on Neverland but still it was unwise to wander about in the jungle without any light. I couldn’t really see anything in the dark but Felix navigated the jungle like it was perfectly lit. I suppose that must come from years of living here. To make sure I didn’t get lost he took to holding my hand. I tried not to read too much into it but after spending all day getting to know one another I couldn’t help the giddy excitement that bubbled up inside of me.

Felix had just lit a torch when we heard something moving in the jungle. Felix scanned the dark shadows of the trees. “Stay close,” Felix whispered, his grip on my hand tightening, “Something’s out there.”

“Okay,” I followed him as we started moving back towards camp. Every so often Felix would stop and listen, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Felix whispered as they walked, “But someone is following us.”

“What do we do?” I whispered back.

“I’m going to put out the torch. You keep ahold of me and do not let go. We’re gonna make a run for it.”

“Are sure that’s safe?”

“Safer than if we get surrounded pirates. You can’t fight and while I can hold my own I don’t want to wander into an ambush.” He reaffirmed his grip on my hand. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. Felix extinguished the torch and then we were running. I was stumbling trying to keep up with his long strides. More than once I tripped over roots and rocks I couldn’t see. Felix kept me upright. I could hear who was chasing us now. Their footfalls crunching quickly after us. It sounded like they were on all sides.

My lungs burned and my legs ached but we kept running. My foot caught another root and this time my hand was ripped from Felix’s as I went down. “Y/N!” Felix ran back to collect me.

I felt a pair of hands haul me up. The people chasing us were right on top of us now. I could hear them surrounding us. “I’m sorry,” I said as I tried to catch my breath, “I tried to keep up.”

“It’s okay,” Felix shoved me behind him, “At the first opening you make a break for it, okay?”

“But--”

“No arguing!”

Our pursuers closed in. I huddled closer into Felix. Suddenly there was light all around us and the sound of laughter. It wasn’t the raucous laughter of pirates though. I looked up and saw the girls holding torches and their stomachs as they doubled over with laughter.

“Girls!” I shouted at them, “What the hell?! You scared us! We thought you were pirates!”

“Oh calm down,” One of the girls waved it off, “It was just a bit of fun. After Pan disappeared with you earlier and you didn’t come back we went out looking for you. Imagine our surprise when we saw that you got saddled with Felix. You poor thing, come with us. We’ll get you back to camp.”

“Now hang on--” I started but Felix silenced me.

“She’s not your concern anymore.” Felix told them. “She was put under my charge. You can head back by yourselves.”

“Your charge?” the girls started whispering amongst themselves. “Oh dear, Y/N, is this a punishment? Did Pan stick you with him as a lesson or something?”

“No. He’s meant to be helping me.” Y/N said, “I’m not being punished at all. Also, I don’t know what your problem is with Felix but he is incredibly strong and fierce and even kind. He is the best damn fighter on this island and does not deserve the constant disrespect you jerks hurl at him!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s not that nice to look at.” One of the girls mumbled.

“Shut up, Maria! Just because your boyfriend looks like a baked potato doesn’t mean you can go around insulting Felix. What’s wrong with him? Is he too tall? Too muscular? Too handsome? Is the scar on his face not simultaneously attractive and cool? What’s your problem?” I shouted at them, “So bugger off and leave us alone!”

“Oh my god,” the girls muttered, “You like him. Look at how red their faces are.”

“Piss off!” Felix yelled at them. The girls finally scattered leaving Felix and I alone again.

“I’m sorry about them. I really don’t understand why they act like that around you. They’re so mean for no reason.”

“It’s fine.” Felix shrugged. “Not like they matter anyway.”

“Right.” I nodded. Felix peered down at me. We had come to a break in the trees and I could faintly make out his face in the moonlight. “Did you...did you mean what you said? About me?”

“Oh…” My face started burning anew, “I mean, yeah. You’re Pan’s second in command after all. Everyone else knows how good a fighter you are and--”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grinned slightly and my stomach flipped. That really wasn’t fair. He towered over me, encasing me completely in his presence.

“Yes…” I mumbled.

“Well that certainly makes this a lot easier.” He grabbed my hand again. “I guess this means you don’t mind me following you around as your kinda bodyguard, huh?”

“Not at all. I was actually rather pleased when Pan assigned you to me. I’ve been trying to get a moment alone to talk to you for a while now.”

“What a coincidence, so have I. So…” He trailed off.

“So what?” I asked.

“So I guess this makes me your bodyguard, teacher and your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?!” My heart started hammering in my chest.

“Yeah, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No! Wait--I didn’t mean no as in ‘no’ I mean it like yes. Yes I would very much like that. I would like for you to be my...oh god I can’t talk right.” I groaned.

Felix chuckled softly and pulled me closer. He planted a small kiss on my cheek. “Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

“Okay,” I couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across my face.

We strolled back into camp some time later. Word must have spread about Felix being put in charge of my protection and training cause everyone was watching us. The whispers and murmurs grew even louder when they noticed us holding hands. Their wide, disbelieving eyes following us as we sat down near the fire. Felix put an arm around me that was as sweet as it was possessive.

Pan spotted us across the way and smirked. I would need to make sure to thank him for this later.

#felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat #neverland #request #peter pan ouat

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maries-gallery · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can i please have an aot matchup? I’m a bi 19 year old girl. I’m 5’9 and i have curly brown hair and hazel eyes. I have a very soft, cozy style and i basically wear sweaters 24/7. I’m a scorpio and INTP. I’m antisocial due to anxiety, so i’m closed off to most people. I have a sarcastic and dirty sense of humor, and i’m childish. I like playfully teasing people. I’m a gryffindor, and quite stubborn. I’m easily jealous in a relationship. I’m also not very good at initiating affection. I’m really into fitness and health, and i exercise every day. Some of my other hobbies include baking, shopping, and singing. I love video games like animal crossing, but i’m also a huge horror fan. Thanks in advance!! 💕

I match you up with Jean !

SFW :

-Now, Jean would probably have his eyes on you on the very first day. You just give off this strong and independent aura he loves oh so much. Yes, he’d be whipped and the desire to get to know you and talk to you would be strong. But at the same time he couldn’t help but find you oh so cute. He never knew someone could look both badass and soft at the same time and this just adds to your charm and enhances his curiosity towards you !

- He’d probably try to approach you during trainings, trying to show off for you and catch your attention, then coming to talk with you. But unfortunately his plan didn’t go as well as he would have liked when he got beaten to pulps by Reiner... But hey, you still looked his way ! He just has to swallow down his shame when he sees you walking over to him to ask if he’s okay... After you beat Annie. And the smile you offer him when giving him a hand to help him off the ground is just priceless. Honestly he has just been flabbergasted.

- After the initial blush and embarrassment of making a shame of himself in front of you Jean would get more comfortable and confident, trying to not so subtly flirt with you. And at first you’d only think he is being playful and teasing you ! Just like you can be... And you decide to tease along. The two of you would exchange pick up lines and silly banters, back and forth. None of you knowing the true intentions of the other at first. This would lead to a very interesting friendship and companionship. The two of you would grow to be known as the team. You just have so much fun together and even Titans couldn’t get in the way of that. Eventually romantic feelings would start to grow on your part and you’d quickly become bitter about all these banters, clueless as to how serious Jean is about you. But not to worry, it was no to little time before he actually approached you, more serious and nervous than you’ve ever seen him. And you two would then become an item. Not only friends but lovers and partners.

- Jean also loves your childish and sarcastic side, it just cracks him up every time and is such a breath of fresh air when all he has known is pressure and stress from expeditions. You are his safe haven and his shelter. Plus, if you eventually start being sarcastic with Eren... You have his heart, soul, feet and hands.

- But one thing Jean isn’t that comfortable with is how stubborn you can be, of course he loves that you cans tick up for yourself and your beliefs, and he is very stubborn himself. But he also knows that this trait of character can be dangerous and he is honestly scared this would get you killed on expeditions. Every time he sees you changing direction on the battlefield to kill a Titan his heart is both grabbed by admiration and dread. An epic cocktail. But so he just has to stick to you and watch your back. Just like you do for him. You’re partners and there is no way in hell he’d let you get killed. You’re all he has left after Marco and he’d be damned if he lost you too.

- Then, during your relationship Jean also gets to know the more vulnerable side of yours and this only strengthen his feelings towards you and his will to protect and care for you. Boy has never experienced anxiety but he sure knows what mental strife is and he is much decided to help you with your anxiety and any insecurities you may have. He’d be willing to listen any time, whenever you need a shoulder to lean on he’d be there. He won’t let you down. And just like he is your listening ear and his safe haven, you’d be his. Honestly the two of you would have such good communication and trust in one another. Just a really healthy relationship and partnership.

- Your jealous side doesn’t bother him that much. He actually finds it cute and would reassure you any time you may feel insecure about the two of you’s relationship or his love for you. He’d embrace you from behind and nuzzle your neck, placing an innocent kiss on the neck and remind you of how much he adores you. Not before teasing you a little for being jealous over him though.

- Jean loves your hobbies. Well he isn’t really one for shopping in my opinion but once you dragged him with you and he definitely liked it. He just loves seeing you so happy and so enthralled by all the things surrounding you. He’d probably play along and try on some things too, just to see you smile and hear your laugh. When it comes to backing, boy is a slave for your sweets. He’d really go through Hell and back for one of your cakes. Then he also loves to hear your voice when you talk, so when he discovered that you sung too ? He is at your feet and worshipping how beautiful you sound. He’d probably ask you to sing him to sleep too as he rests his head on your laps.

- Modern Jean is obviously big on video games, and although he has never played Animal Crossing he’d love for you to show him what it is about. He’d probably get into it too afterwards and you two would play alongside one another. Then about horror movies... Well he is not exactly a fan. He’d be this kind of guy to scream in the movie theatre when the ghost or bad guy barges into the scene. But once again, to see you smile, he’d do anything. But seeing him try so hard to hold in his shivers and screams is just such a sight to behold. And the iron grip he has on your shirt doesn’t betray anyone, guy is scared.

- Honestly Jean is just perfect boyfriend material. He’d just be so sweet and his love for you shines in every single glance he throws your way. He is just so proud of you and would brag to anyone willing to hear about his amazing and lovely girlfriend.

Song :

Cupid’s Chokehold, Gym Class Heroes

Scenario :

You frowned, hands balling into fists at the sight before you. Your heart ached, menacing to spill out of your chest.

It was no secret Jean admired Mikasa and that he had had a crush on her, before you came along. So you had good reasons to be pissed when you saw them training together, a smile adorning your boyfriend’s lips as he tried to fend off the black haired girl’s attacks.

Yes, it hurts. What’s more, for all you wanted to move and turn around, your feet stood glued to the ground, forcing you to stay and watch.

You gazed at the two of them. And for a moment you caught yourself thinking about how well they’d look together as a couple. If you hadn’t been in the picture, would Jean have ended up with Mikasa ? And if you were to die at the hands of a Titan, would he go back to her ? How long after you left this world ?

“(Y/n) !” A familiar voice you loved oh so much reached your ears.

You had zoned out and hadn’t even taken notice of Jean’s approaching form. He stood before you, sweaty and glorious, a charming and loving smile on his lips. His hazel eyes full of adoration as he looked at you. However this boyish grin of his quickly faded into a worried frown at the sight of your features.

The male leaned over you, looking for any clue as to why you’d be so upset, a gentle hand resting on your shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay ?”

You shook your head, unable to look at him right now without imagining him with your black haired friend. This was silly of you, you knew it. But didn’t mean you had any control over this ugly feeling in your chest.

Oh. Jean knew that face, for he had seen it before when he spent a bit too much time with someone else. The cute pout on your lips and the adorable frown on your features. You were jealous.

Soon a light smirk made its way to his lips and he slowly stepped behind you, leaving you no time to react as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His chest warm and arms comforting, eliciting a quiet sigh from you.

“Jean, you’re all sweaty.” You voiced, wiggling in his grasp. A rich chuckle graced your ear, his hot breath fanning over the skin of your jaw as he nuzzled the comforting nook between your shoulder and neck.

“Babe, are you jealous ?” He teasingly asked, eyeing you questioningly.

You sent him a glare. He loved how feisty you could get.

“No, I am not.” You denied boldly, knowing he could read you like an open book anyways.

He placed a kiss on your neck, tightening his hold on your body. “Do you need me to remind you of how much I love you ? Who I belong to ?” His voice whispered into your ear, sensually, and you blushed. Jean’s heart swelled in his chest at the sight of the visible hue.

“Don-Don’t be silly.”

Another warm chuckle rumbled through his chest and greeted your back. “I love you (Y/n). You and only you. Now and for however long we have to live on this earth.” He confessed sweetly, and you knew he was honest. “Don’t forget that you are trapped with me now and there is no way out of this.”

The tension left your shoulders and you leaned into his touch. “But you-”

“I admire her, yes. But I love you. And she is amazing but she can’t be you.” He continued to reassure you. Eager to tell you how much he loves you and how irreplaceable you are to him.

Finally a smile graced your lips, the sight alone casting a bright side on his day. Anything to see this smile he loved so much.

Match ups are closed for now !

#aot x reader #snk x reader #jean x reader #attack on titan x reader

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badgersprite · 3 years

Text

Fic: Desiderata (10/?)

Chapter Title: Collide

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob, Jack

Pairing: Miranda/Samara, I told you it was a fucking slow burn

Story Rating: R

Warnings: I don’t think any specific warnings apply for this chapter. Certainly nothing that doesn’t apply to the fic as a whole. Just assume any past warnings remain relevant.

Chapter Summary: The ‘flashback’ storyline comes to an end at the party on the Citadel. In London, Miranda’s insomnia is affecting her worse than ever before. Then Samara shows up at her door. And everything implodes.

Author’s Note: “If I'd have said I love you, she'd have said it back. And then everything would have been different.” - Sue Trinder, Fingersmith. Featuring Citadel dates that aren’t dates except they’re totally dates part II. I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of proud of myself here with the contrasts and parallels going on between the flashback scenes and present day scenes. People at their best, versus, well, close to their worst. Spotify playlist below the cut again.

(Link to Playlist)

*. * *

Miranda had been on the run from Cerberus for so long that it still hadn’t fully sunk in. She wasn’t hiding anymore. Wasn’t looking over her shoulder every waking moment. Didn’t get startled awake by every sound she heard in her sleep.

Somehow, she’d done it. She’d turned against The Illusive Man, and lived to tell the tale. For now, anyway.

The events at Sanctuary were so fresh in her mind that she’d barely had the chance to stop and catch her breath since. The bruises had mostly healed, but she still felt lingering echoes of her fight with Kai Leng, which could have ended a lot worse had she gone in unprepared. Not even ten days had passed since she hugged Oriana on Horizon and said her goodbyes, perhaps for the last time.

And yet she wasn’t thinking about what lay ahead. Not really.

Miranda was here. Living in the now.

For this one night, she was able to just...stand in one place, and enjoy the moment. That was something she had never taken the time to do previously, before all this came to pass. On an unconscious level, she had always taken tomorrows for granted. Never stopped or cared to appreciate today.

Suffice it to say, her head hadn’t quite fully caught up to where her body was, and that this was no mere illusion. It felt like at any second she would wake up and find herself alone in the dark again, scurrying like a rat through the shadows in hidden passages of the Citadel where nobody but the keepers could find her.

But this wasn’t a dream. It was really happening.

It meant all the more that at this particular moment she was surrounded by familiar faces from The Normandy she hadn’t seen in months, plus a few new ones. For a while there, it had felt like she would never see them again.

It was something to savour. So she did.

Miranda drew a deep breath and allowed herself to be present. To exist. To not be in her own head. She took in the scene as she made her way through Shepard’s apartment, letting her eyes wander the party going on around her, her gaze landing on each person she could see as she passed them by.

Liara and James Vega had spent a good portion of the evening arguing whether biotics were superior to brawn, or vice versa, with Jacob and Ashley having joined in on the great debate earlier. That still seemed to be ongoing, from what she could tell. The answer should have been eminently obvious to anyone, Miranda thought. Then again, she didn’t feel the need to convince anybody why her own preference was correct when she already knew she was right, as usual.

On a related note, Miranda might not have been the best judge when it came to reading signals between people, but even she was starting to get the sense that James and Ashley might be more than just shipmates by the end of the night, if they weren’t already. Good for them.

Tali, the last time she’d seen her, had been very much enjoying how uncomfortable EDI was making Samantha Traynor, talking openly about the crush Sam had on her voice. Although, come to think of it, Miranda was pretty sure Traynor had at long last managed to escape that awkward conversation and gone to hide under a table somewhere. Or maybe she’d just locked herself in the bathroom until she felt safe to emerge again. Either way, fair.

Speaking of potential couples, it hadn’t eluded Miranda’s attention that EDI and Joker had definitely become, shall it be said, a lot closer ever since EDI got a body. In retrospect, that wasn’t surprising, although the idea of the two of them becoming...entangled in that way had obviously never occurred to her before. Why would it have? But, come to think of it, the two of them had always bickered like an old married couple even when EDI was just a disembodied voice. From that perspective, Miranda supposed it kind of made sense.

And lastly on the list of possible relationships, there was also a...vibe coming off of Tali and Garrus, which was by far the most unexpected. And a little weird. Jacob had picked up on it before Miranda had, and she wished he hadn’t pointed it out. It was like finding out that two people she had thought of as more of a brother and sister might be hooking up. But it was none of Miranda’s business. In any event, the two of them seemed to mostly be avoiding each other. Perhaps they hadn’t confronted whatever this was between them yet.

She’d also caught sight of Zaeed and Samara admiring the artwork adorning Shepard’s new apartment. Miranda had thought about intruding on that, since that duo included the one person at this party she had been hoping to speak to tonight above all others, but she ultimately elected not to disturb them just yet. There would be other opportunities to catch up with her.

Somehow, she got the sense that Zaeed had finally been brave enough to shoot his shot with Samara after all this time. Judging by the expression on his face, and given that he was now drinking alone and very much not with Samara, presumably it had gone exactly as smoothly for him as had been predicted a year ago. She would be lying if she said she felt sorry for him.

A big group that included Joker, Garrus, Wrex, Steve Cortez and Javik had been arguing about guns and target practice or some similar nonsense, which hadn’t sounded particularly riveting to her in all honesty. Boys and their toys. They were still in that discussion from what she could hear. Unfortunately, Shepard seemed to have encouraged that line of thinking, which Miranda wished she hadn’t. Guns and alcohol were not the best mix.

Meanwhile, Kasumi had been popping in between all groups almost as much as Shepard had, like the perpetual snoop she was. She always loved getting up in everybody’s business. Miranda would have been a pretty big hypocrite to take issue with that, though. Although, when Miranda spied on people, it was for entirely professional reasons, not because she liked to gossip.

She had heard Grunt yelling at party crashers over the intercom a while back too. Who better to be a bouncer for a party than a genetically perfect krogan? She didn’t care to interrupt him. He’d done a good job of keeping the riff raff out.

And, honestly, for as much as Jack still grated on her nerves, a small part of Miranda had been somewhat relieved to see her there too, because if nothing else that meant she had survived long enough to attend this reunion. Miranda may not have liked Jack in the slightest, but if anybody thought she was actively rooting for any of her former Normandy comrades not to make it through this conflict, even Jack, then they really didn’t know Miranda at all.

Sure, they had instinctively traded barbs when they unintentionally crossed paths, because god forbid Jack actually behave like a fucking adult for once. But then Shepard had appeared out of nowhere and, for some bizarre reason, suggested that they, quote unquote, ‘work out all that unresolved tension between them’ and go have sex, or words to that effect.

In a weird way, that stupid comment had inadvertently somewhat doused the animosity between herself and Jack because, for once in their lives, they finally agreed on something - being that that would never fucking happen, and they would sooner drink broken glass than even think about it.

Credit to Shepard, though, Miranda and Jack hadn’t fought after that.

Maybe that had been the point.

Unfortunately, not all members of The Normandy had made it this far. There were missing faces. Only a few, but too many. From what she knew, they had all gone out like heroes, whatever that meant, and if it made any difference.

Thane had died giving his life to protect the Council from Kai Leng when Cerberus attacked the Citadel. Mordin had sacrificed himself to end the genophage, undoing what he had in retrospect come to believe was his greatest mistake. And Legion, well, to the extent that Legion could be considered ‘dead’, he had certainly ceased to exist in any recognisable form - giving up his ‘individuality’, for lack of a better word, to achieve peace between the quarians and the geth.

It wasn’t until after being forced to go into hiding for so long, believing some Cerberus agent would find her and put three bullets in her head before she saw any of her Normandy comrades again, that Miranda began to regret that she never took the chance to get to know her shipmates better, especially now that there were some with whom those lost moments could never be reclaimed.

What was that saying - you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone?

Yeah, this was definitely one of those instances.

She’d always liked Thane, come to think of it. There was little to dislike. He had been one of the few on the ship who had never been anything other than extremely civil towards her, even when, admittedly, Miranda hadn’t been particularly courteous in return, misjudging him as a man of tenuous loyalty.

He never complained or questioned any task he was given. He just did it. A consummate professional. Exactly the kind of person she would want on any team.

Mordin, she respected. Hadn’t trusted, no, nor completely understood, but respected. They’d teamed up on a fair few field missions with Shepard early on when they were still studying the Collectors. Between her warps and Mordin’s incineration tech, they could tear through any armour in seconds. And he was undeniably a genius. Back on The Normandy, he was probably the only other person who’d spent as much time hard at work as Miranda. Maybe more.

With the benefit of hindsight, she wished she had taken more of an opportunity to pick his brain, and work with him on his endless list of projects. Even if he did talk at a million miles a minute, it was only because he had so much to do and no time to waste doing it. A sombre smile came to her face as she thought how many of the galaxy’s ills the two of them could have solved given enough all-nighters and enough pots of coffee between them.

And then there was Legion. In truth, she hadn’t had much time to speak to him, much less get to know him. He had been on The Normandy so briefly. Less than a month had elapsed between finding him, and Miranda being forced to leave. He was the one she knew the least. But he was unique.

She had been wrong about Legion, hadn’t she? Miranda still didn’t fully know where she stood on the whole question of whether machines could be considered ‘alive’, but that wasn’t the point, was it? Did it even matter if they weren’t? Either way, it would have been wrong to send him to Cerberus, like Miranda had initially suggested. If that had happened, Rannoch might not be at peace right now. With his final sacrifice to unite the quarians and the geth, Legion had definitively proven himself to be more than the mere sum of his programs.

So the question remained. Why hadn’t Miranda taken the initiative to get to know them? To speak to them? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known that the time Thane and Mordin had was short, irrespective of intervening events. She’d just...not bothered.

It hadn’t occurred to her back then to think that was something she ought to have done. The old Miranda hadn’t cared to do such things. Because other people didn’t really matter to her.

By the time Miranda had started to defrost and emerge as a more tolerable (and, in turn, more tolerant) person to be around, it was already too late. The mission was over. The Alpha Relay was destroyed. And everyone went their separate ways.

But there was no changing the past. Perhaps there was no sense in wondering what could have been, or what she would have done differently if she had known then what she knew now, or if she had been the person back then that she was now, because that just wasn’t possible. And Miranda could do many things, but even she couldn’t make the impossible possible.

Well, not usually.

She couldn’t have those days back. But she still had this day. This one night. Best not to dwell on what was missing or the mistakes of yesterdays gone by when there was so much that she had to be thankful for. And, moreover, so much which she had, for once in her life, finally learned to appreciate.

And it wasn’t lost on her that this one night of joyful reunion was almost certainly the last one they could ever have like this. The last time they would all be together. The last time that all the faces in this room would still be here to celebrate as one.

Because they wouldn’t be alive much longer.

The reality was, the whole galaxy was at war. And it was a war they were currently losing. Their chances of victory were slim to none. From what Miranda had gathered, all organic life was essentially banking its hopes on some ancient miracle superweapon passed down from previous cycles called The Crucible that they didn’t even fully understand or know how to use yet. And if that failed?

...There wasn’t a plan B. Not yet, at least.

Even if The Crucible worked and they somehow defeated the Reapers, the chance that more than a handful of people in this room would survive the war was infinitesimally small. And, perhaps more than anyone else at that party, Miranda had no expectation that she would be among the living when the dust settled. Because Miranda had never been happier than she was right then. Never had more to live for. And if that wasn’t a curse that put her right at the top of the list of ‘most likely to die’, then she was not only naive, but delusional.

The universe was a cruel place. The people who had the most to live for were always the first to die. There was no way that Miranda could rationally believe that the future she now saw for herself and Ori after the war might ever actually come to fruition. Because, if there was one thing that Miranda’s thirty-six years had taught her, it was that she would never get to be that fucking happy.

Things like that just didn’t happen. Especially not to people like her.

Or, if they did, then they shouldn’t.

Seeing what Cerberus had become, knowing she’d spent just shy of twenty years of her life working for them? No, she didn’t deserve a good ending.

As that thought went through her head, Miranda glanced up, and spotted a singular, solitary figure standing alone by the second floor balcony, watching the scenes playing out below. Samara. Somehow, that she was by herself was the least shocking thing Miranda could have imagined.

Finally sensing her long-awaited chance to catch a private moment with the one person she had been more eager to spend time with than any other, Miranda ascended the stairs, a glass of wine curled in her grasp.

“Not mingling?” Miranda asked as she joined Samara’s side.

“I am content to observe,” Samara replied, maintaining an upright posture with her hands clasped behind her back. She seemed to mean it, preferring to watch and listen from a distance than to be directly involved in the action for the most part. Considering she was about four hundred years out-of-practice when it came to this sort of thing, being a passive onlooker probably genuinely was the most enjoyable way for her to experience this party at her own pace.

“Normally, I would do the same.” Miranda leaned on the railing beside her.

“Yet you appear to be enjoying the festivities,” Samara noted, pleased with that.

“I know. It feels incongruous, doesn’t it? Me, being social? A year ago I would have been telling you all to stop wasting time and focus on the mission,” said Miranda, finding it rather bizarre to consider how far she'd come from the cold, aloof person she was previously. Well, not that she couldn't still be those things. But she was less so now. Especially among this dysfunctional bunch of misfits she had reluctantly become fond of, despite her better judgement.

Being part of The Normandy crew had changed her irrevocably. More than she'd realised at the time. Meeting her sister had done that too. And Samara, of course. And so had losing all those things when she went on the run. It made her appreciate aspects of life she wouldn't have otherwise.

It was almost enough to make her call them all her friends. Even Jack.

...Almost.

“You do not need to deprive yourself for my sake,” Samara assured her, gesturing towards the party going on beneath them, as if believing Miranda was only approaching her out of a sense of obligation to ensure she didn't feel excluded.

“I'm not. I enjoy your company. I always have.” Nothing had changed in that respect. No matter how much time had passed, Miranda would never feel any less at ease in Samara’s presence. She just had that effect on her. A vague smirk came to her as she thought back on the last time they spoke, toying with her wine glass. “I was right, you know?” she said, recalling her own words from all those many months ago. “I did miss you more than anyone else.”

“Even Shepard?” Samara inquired, her lip quirking with amusement.

“Even Shepard,” Miranda confirmed, taking a sip. “Don't pass this on, but Shepard was always barging into my office when I had a lot to do. Ask Garrus and he'll tell you the same thing about his calibrations.” She gestured to their comrade, currently setting up a number of glasses on the bar, resembling a firing range. That was going to end badly. “That was something I always liked about you.”

“What was?” asked Samara.

“You might be the only person I've ever met who never wanted anything from me,” Miranda explained, having had plenty of time to think about that in her loneliest moments this past year. “Not to be presumptuous, but it wasn’t because you simply didn't care, or wanted to get rid of me. You just...accepted me, as I was. I never felt as though I had to earn your approval, whether through my usefulness, or my accomplishments, or even through keeping you entertained with conversation. I could just...do nothing around you – literally, just sit there and say nothing in your presence, and that was fine with you.”

That was no exaggeration. They had spent hours together in serene silence, or in meditation. Maybe more than they had spent talking. It never mattered what they chose to do. One was never any more or less welcome than the other.

“It was,” Samara confirmed, her voice soft and reflective. “And, no, you are not being presumptuous. You may be more forthright than I am about such things, but, if I ever desired to be left alone, believe me, I would not have made a secret of it.”

“Ah, good, so you weren’t secretly dreading it whenever I showed up because you were too polite to tell me to bugger off this entire time,” Miranda joked. She already knew that, of course, but it was nice to have it on record.

“I am unfamiliar with that term. But no, I was not,” Samara answered kindly. “I would be a fool not to value your abilities. The things you have accomplished are remarkable, let alone what you have yet to achieve. But such things are only possible because of who you are. That is what is truly important. And I asked nothing of you, because I already enjoyed your companionship.”

Miranda wasn’t prone to blushing like an idiot, but it took an uncharacteristic amount of effort not to glow at such sincere praise. “You aren’t so bad yourself,” Miranda wryly replied, gently nudging Samara with her shoulder.

“No, I am terribly dull. I assure you, I am aware of this,” Samara replied, a self-effacing smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the misplaced compliment.

Miranda snorted at that assertion. “Are you kidding? You were the only one out of this lot I found even remotely interesting to talk to most days. And, considering the company we keep, that’s saying something,” she said, indicating their cohorts below, who included some of the most famous heroes and infamous outlaws in the galaxy. “You’re one of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met. Besides, I owe a lot to your wisdom and advice. More than you know.”

“It pleases me that you feel that way. However, if I may, I do not consider myself especially wise,” Samara humbly responded, downplaying her role. “If I appear so, it is only because experience has taught me one lesson that can make even the most dimwitted person appear well-considered in their thoughts, and that is to speak as little as possible, until I have something worthwhile to say.”

“See? That’s the most intelligent thing I’ve heard all evening,” Miranda pointed out, earning a faint chuckle from Samara. “In all seriousness, though, I really have been looking forward to catching up with you.”

“And I you. Much has come to pass since last we met. For both of us, I suspect,” Samara reflected, as if she had often wondered in her journeys where her friends were, how they were faring, or what they might be doing. Miranda knew, because she had done the exact same thing. “If it would not trouble you to share it--”

“I killed my father,” Miranda nonchalantly answered, filling in the gaps of what had transpired over the past few months before Samara could even ask her to, bringing up the subject about as casually as she might remark on the weather.

“Good,” Samara enthused, without a hint of hesitation. She didn’t even need to ask whether or not he deserved it. She already knew the answer.

That Samara took it so in stride almost made Miranda laugh. That exchange would have sounded so bizarre out of context. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man,” Miranda commented, taking another drink from her glass, nearing half-empty. “So, yeah, I’ve gone from having the absolute worst year of my life so far to feeling pretty bloody wonderful, if I’m being honest.”

“I am glad to hear you say that. However, if I may...are you sure you are alright?” Samara asked with the warmth and gentleness Miranda had come to expect from her. Although her own experiences with Morinth were very different, no doubt they gave her an insight that, irrespective of how much Miranda hated her father or how justified she was in her actions, killing the man who had been her only family for sixteen years of her life might unearth some complicated feelings. “It would be no failure on your part whatsoever if you are not.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Believe me, if there was any small part of me left that might have wanted to let him live, or might have felt something resembling an attachment to him, that part of me died the moment he hurt my sister,” Miranda declared, her voice unwavering. She glanced down. “Unfortunately, I...should have gotten there sooner. Oriana’s adoptive parents weren’t spared. They didn’t make it.”

“I am sorry,” Samara said, her sympathy sincere. “Is there anything you could reasonably have done to prevent this from happening?”

“No, probably not,” Miranda acknowledged. She had been fighting so hard just to survive some days. To stay one step ahead of The Illusive Man and his agents. She’d kept an eye on her as best she could, but it hadn’t been possible to watch over her and protect her the way she used to from such a position of powerlessness. She hadn’t even known she was in danger until it was too late.

“Then you must not blame yourself,” Samara encouraged, ever the voice of compassionate wisdom. “If your actions could not realistically have changed anything that transpired, then you cannot be held responsible.”

“I suppose not,” Miranda conceded, staring down at her glass.

More than anything else, Miranda hated that feeling of helplessness. Knowing that Oriana had suffered and felt pain she never wanted her to experience, and there was nothing she could do to shield her from it. She would have traded her own life in a heartbeat to take it all away and wind back the clock for Ori and her family, if it were within her power. But such things weren’t. It couldn’t be undone. It couldn’t be fixed. They just had to keep moving forward.

“Enough about me. How about you?” Miranda changed the subject. “I tried to keep tabs on everyone but...you are a hard woman to find, Samara.”

“That is my way,” Samara affirmed, calm and quiet. “I have no possessions, but that which you see before you. And I often journey through very remote places.”

“You’re off-the-grid,” Miranda translated. Certainly, Samara was about as disconnected from galactic society and unplugged from the network as it was possible to be in this day and age, short of eschewing those things completely.

“You could say that, yes,” Samara gave a firm nod, accepting that description. She stepped away from the balcony, gesturing with her hand as she spoke. “You may not know this, but there are villages in remote parts of asari space where people have...returned to a simpler way of being, rejecting modernity and embracing tradition in every facet of life. Even though their ancestors may have come to those worlds by spaceflight, they prefer to live as their predecessors did thousands of years ago. It would not be an exaggeration for me to state that several such places I have visited recently would still not currently be aware there is a war going on as we speak, and would never have heard the term ‘Reaper’.”

“Doesn’t sound that strange. There are people and places on Earth that haven’t changed at all in the past two hundred years, if not longer. As long as they aren’t holding back social and scientific progress for anyone else, why force them to adapt?” Miranda shrugged. If people wanted to stay stuck in the past, that was their business. She would happily continue moving forward and enjoy all the trappings and privileges of modern life that they rejected.

“...I have always liked such places, at least since I became a Justicar. They remind me of my temple somewhat,” Samara confessed, her eyes losing focus, drifting into thoughtful contemplation. “Just as there is tranquility in being surrounded by nature, there is truly no wiser woman than she who is content with her life, however humble it may seem. Would that we could all achieve such harmony.”

The hint of sombreness in Samara’s final words wasn’t lost on Miranda.

“Speaking for myself, give me twenty-second century technology any day,” Miranda remarked, both because it was true, but partly in an effort to lighten the atmosphere. It wasn’t clear whether Samara even heard her, in all honesty. “So where did you go after that?” Miranda asked casually. Given that she was here, she must have run into Shepard again somehow.

At those words, a sudden flicker of sorrow passed across her features. Samara turned away, one hand falling across her face, as if struck by a surge of sadness, and needing a moment to collect herself.

Needless to say, that reaction definitely didn’t escape Miranda. She moved closer to Samara, concerned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Samara summoned a heartbroken smile as she looked up at her once more. “Forgive me. My thoughts turned to the day I encountered Shepard,” she began, a hard story to tell. “I heard that the monastery where my daughters were taken four centuries ago had issued a distress signal, and none who had been sent to investigate had returned. As soon as I knew they were in peril, I did not hesitate. I had to go to them. I feared the worst, and my fears were not misplaced. The Reapers were indoctrinating Ardat-Yakshi, turning them into…” Samara couldn’t even say it. There weren’t words to describe those creatures.

Miranda listened to her recount the events in heavy, dread-filled silence. Nobody had told her that. She had no idea about any of this.

“Fortunately, both Shepard and I arrived in time to rescue Falere from that fate. However, we were not quick enough. I lost...I lost Rila.” Samara’s voice caught in her throat, choked by a sob as she relived the all-too-raw pain of her death.

Her oldest daughter. Gone.

Miranda’s heart sank. “Samara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” she said with heartfelt remorse. Miranda never would have brought this up if she had suspected anything had happened to what little family Samara still had left. Why hadn’t anybody said anything? Why had no one told her about this?

“No, it is…” Samara shook her head, raising a hand as if to signal that it was not her fault for inadvertently touching upon an open wound. As if she thought the only misstep made was her own for letting grief cloud the moment, when she had so much still to be thankful for. “I should not. Not today.”

Miranda didn’t quite know what to make of that reaction, but if Samara didn’t want to talk about the death of her child, she couldn’t exactly blame her. She certainly wouldn’t force her to.

Their moment of quiet was interrupted by glass shattering somewhere below.

“Oh, God,” Miranda groaned miserably, getting the sense that the boys were in fact about to break out the guns and start shooting after all. She was not particularly keen to be near them when that happened. “Do you want to go somewhere a little quieter?” Miranda asked, thinking that would be best.

“As you wish,” Samara replied, gesturing for her to go ahead, composing herself as she followed in Miranda’s footsteps. With that, they retreated into Shepard's bedroom, seeing that it appeared empty.

Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda glimpsed something. Shepard's closet was open, but the clothes were shifting ever so slightly as they hung there. Hmm. She had a fair idea what was causing that. However, this wasn't the time to address it. Not when this moment with Samara could be one of the last they ever had. She made a mental note to file her theory away for a little later.

Ignoring the disturbance, Miranda stepped inside. She supposed they could have sat on the bed, but, somehow, that just didn't seem fitting. “Here, for old time's sake,” she said, sitting down on the floor, her legs crossed, patting a spot beside her. “I know the view isn't as good, but—“

“I have spent many years gazing out over the stars, and I will see them again before my days are at an end,” Samara interrupted Miranda, joining her by her side, mirroring her posture. “In comparison, I have spent far less time with you. This is more worthy, do you not agree?”

“Definitely.” Miranda glanced down, having reflected on that sort of thing a lot recently. “Cutting myself off from...everything like I did made me appreciate the value of how I spend my limited time in this universe. I’ve come to understand what I want to do with my life, after all this is done. Assuming there is an ‘after’. And it turns out you were right, but you probably already knew that.”

“I...do not,” Samara replied, mildly perplexed. “If I said something in the past that you are referring to, I am afraid that I do not recall it.”

That happened a lot, Miranda thought. She had a near-perfect memory, by human standards. It felt entirely natural to her to harken back to conversations that had taken place long ago as if they’d happened only yesterday when, almost invariably, by that stage, the other party had forgotten them completely.

“You remember how you would encourage me to concentrate less on devoting all my energy to my work and other external achievements and to focus more on my inner development instead? Well, you asked me once which of those two things ultimately has greater meaning to me,” Miranda refreshed her memory.

“That does sound like something I would say,” Samara acknowledged, certainly remembering words to that effect, even if a few more specific details had faded.

“You did. And you were right,” Miranda continued. “I had a lot of time to myself these past several months. Completely to myself. And when that crushing isolation was just starting to tip me over the edge, I thought of you. I thought of us, our time together. And so I tried my hand at meditating again. It succeeded at calming me down and clearing my head but, more importantly, finding that state of tranquility gave me the first chance I’d had since leaving Cerberus to really stop and think about my life, and the direction it was heading, even before this.”

Samara’s expression revealed she knew that epiphany all too well, as if she had undergone something similar in her own life. Possibly more than once. It was no wonder she considered meditation such an essential facet of her existence.

“Serenity is the key to mindfulness. The only key. Even the simplest truths are often lost to us in the noise and chaos of life, or clouded by impenetrable shadows of anger and despair,” Samara spoke sagely, from the benefit of experience.

That was the truest and most astute thing Miranda had heard anyone say in a long time. And beautifully poetic. And, as she looked at Samara then, Miranda had to once again wonder how she could possibly believe herself to be dull or unwise, even if she had only made those disparaging remarks about herself in jest.

“What came to you in the silence?” Samara prompted, keen to hear it.

“I thought of the person I was before I met you, and, out of nowhere, it suddenly hit me - really hit me - that all that time I spent working for Cerberus was...wasted. It meant nothing. And I knew it meant nothing because all I could think was that, if Cerberus did catch up to me and kill me, then I would be leaving behind absolutely nothing that I could look back on and say, ‘Yeah, you know what? I’m satisfied with that.’ Not one thing. Except for bringing Shepard back, but any contentment I feel about that has less to do with me, and more to do with Shepard.”

“Because you were never satisfied with anything you produced,” Samara intuited, sensing what Miranda had come to terms with. “Nothing could ever truly meet your own unattainable standards that you set for yourself. And no amount of work could ever fill the void that you felt inside. A void that festered because you were...completely avoiding focusing on your inner life.”

“Yes, I was. And, no, it couldn’t fill it,” Miranda confirmed, seeing now what she had been too distracted to see before. “And, although I didn’t realise it at the time, I really did not like the person I was when I was working for them. I was not happy. I thought I was, compared to the life I had before. But, in actuality, I wasn’t any less trapped with them than I was with my father. I was like Shepard’s stupid hamster, running in a wheel, doing the same things over and over again, thinking I was getting somewhere, but going nowhere. Deep down, I was...I was fucking miserable. And...honestly, I think I was lonely.”

Samara watched on, her eyes glistening with unfeigned sympathy and understanding. “I gathered as much,” Samara admitted, barely above a whisper. Miranda wasn’t surprised to hear her say that. She wasn’t sure at precisely what point it had occurred to her to suspect that Samara’s spiritual intervention in her life might be intentional, but she’d made no secret of her guidance.

“I’m glad you noticed, because I never would have. It was you who gave me that gentle push that made me re-examine what I was doing with my life, how badly I was treating myself, and reflect on what really mattered to me,” said Miranda. Hell, Samara had known what Miranda was missing better than she knew it herself. “So, as I was having this moment of insight and meditating on all those things you said to me, it made me think, maybe the path I’ve been taking until now isn't what's fulfilling to me. That's why, once the Reapers are defeated, if I make it out alive...I think I'm done,” she stated frankly, shrugging her shoulders.

“Done?” Samara echoed, curious as to her meaning.

“Done being that person,” Miranda clarified. “Done leading my life that way. Or at least I’ll try to be someone different for a while, until I figure out what I really want to do now that there’s nobody controlling me anymore. I'm not planning to be a puppet for another shadowy organisation. I'm not going to go off on some grand mission to save the galaxy. I’m not going to spend sixteen hours a day hunched over my computer screen, stressing over worthless administrative tasks to meet the arbitrary standards of people who don’t care at all if my crippling addiction to perfectionism sends me to an early grave,” Miranda announced, voicing that commitment aloud as though it were a vow. “If I’m finally going to take charge of my own life, then I'm going to focus on what's most important to me.”

“And what is that?” Samara asked, suspecting she already knew.

“My sister,” Miranda answered without hesitation. Oriana was her be all and end all. Whether she knew it or not, she always had been, ever since she was brought into this world. She made Miranda feel complete, or as close to whole as she had ever felt, anyway. “I made a promise to her that, when this is over, we're going to find some nice, quiet place on a colony world and start living our lives together as a family. And that's the only thing I want to do. The only thing I know will make me happy. I don't care about anything else.”

“You are...retiring?” Samara inferred, tilting her head in questioning.

“In a manner of speaking, I guess you could say that,” Miranda affirmed. As she glanced over at Samara then, it wasn’t lost on her that, while she was clearly impressed with the level of growth Miranda was demonstrating, suffice it to say that there was a hint of scepticism. “What?” Miranda prompted her, always preferring people to be direct rather than refrain from speaking.

“Forgive me. It delights me to hear that you have chosen a path which you believe will bring you inner fulfilment, but...with greatest respect, after our many conversations, I find it difficult to imagine you content with embracing idleness,” Samara noted with interest, even though she obviously supported her decision. She knew it drove Miranda crazy when she didn’t have enough work to do. She was perpetually busy, by choice. She hated being bored more than anything.

“No, I'm not saying I’ll be idle. I mean, I am only thirty-six, and...well, you've seen what I'm like,” Miranda conceded that fault, aware of her workaholic tendencies. She didn’t expect those qualities to fade, and she wasn’t sure it would be a good thing if they did. They were part of her personality. “But the point is that I’ve been doing the exact same thing for twenty years and getting nothing in return - except money, I guess. Before that, I was my father’s prisoner. I’ve never had the chance to be my own woman. I need a clean break. A hard reset. To steer things in a new direction. I need some time to...do or be something else, for the first time in my life. I need to…” She trailed off, struggling for the right words.

“Find yourself?” Samara suggested.

“Something like that,” Miranda confirmed. She’d never had a chance to discover herself and her identity except insofar as it related to her upbringing, or to her career with Cerberus. What else was there? Who was Miranda Lawson when she wasn’t working? Or wasn’t busy solving all the galaxy’s problems?

She would have loved to know. It was a shame she wouldn’t get to live long enough to meet that person. But, God, did it feel good to live in denial, and allow herself to hope, for just one night.

“I don't know how long this experiment will last, or what this phase of my life will look like,” Miranda continued, “And I'm sure that at some point in time I'm going to find ways to keep myself productive, because I probably can't do otherwise. But, whatever I decide to do with my time and my skills, I'll be doing it of my own volition. Not because I'm tethered to anybody else. Not because somebody else is running my life and telling me what to do. It will be because I took time to think about it, and found a way to devote myself to something that actually makes me feel good when I do it. Whatever that ends up being.”

That was the core of it, when it came down to it. She wanted to be her own master. To have control over her own life. To be her own boss. Wanted the freedom to cut ties with anyone or anything that was toxic to her quest for self-actualisation.

“Either way, from now on, all those other things are going to be secondary, because my family is my priority. Oriana is,” Miranda professed, and that was immutable. “And, while I already knew that, you helped me realise what that means. So thank you for that.”

“If I was able to be of any assistance, then seeing you embrace your innermost desires is thanks enough. I am glad that you and your sister have found one another,” Samara said, her sincere smile reaching her eyes. “Truly, you have come so far from when I first met you. Wherever your path takes you, I wish you nothing but happiness. And I hope you both lead very long and peaceful lives.”

“Don’t we all?” Miranda remarked. That was the hard part, though. The entire galaxy was under attack by genocidal, unknowable cosmic horrors. But nobody wanted to think about them right now. Not tonight. “What about you and Falere?” Miranda asked, hoping she wasn’t treading on too sensitive ground by asking that question. “Will you do the same with her?”

“...I cannot; my adherence to The Code does not end with the salvation of the galaxy,” said Samara. Though it was clear she accepted that, her response left her visibly conflicted. No doubt, she wished it could have been otherwise. “I am the last of my Order. When I perish, so do the Justicars perish with me. It may seem futile to continue to walk this path when there is no one left to demand it of me, but I must. I must, for those who can no longer walk it with me.”

Samara’s devout pledge carried a hint of sadness, but it was well-camouflaged. What she personally wanted was irrelevant, ever since she'd renounced her former life and sworn her service to the Justicars. Being their sole living legacy only further cemented what had already been true. She wouldn't turn her back on her obligations, no matter how tempting it was to savour every moment she could with her daughter. She could never forgive herself if she did.

“However, I have also promised Falere that I will return, if I survive – when I am able,” Samara continued, though her tone did not change. It remained distant. Almost resigned. Layered in over four hundred years of history between them.

Miranda couldn’t quite make sense of the mixed emotions she sensed in Samara’s voice. Perhaps she was disappointed that they couldn’t be as close as she would like - that there were restrictions standing in the way of them fully reuniting in the same kind of way Miranda and Oriana had. Falere was still an Ardat-Yakshi, after all; she could never live a normal life. It was too dangerous.

“But you will see her? You will have a life together?” Miranda surmised, in a subtle attempt to encourage Samara to think of her circumstances more positively.

“...Yes,” Samara answered hesitantly, deciding that was indeed true, in part.

“Then, if both of us have reasons to survive, I don't like the Reapers' chances,” Miranda spoke with false confidence. If she said it with enough self-assuredness, perhaps she might actually start to believe it. But she wasn’t trying to convince herself. Only Samara. “If we've said we're going to do these things, then we already know what the outcome of this war has to be.”

Samara didn't share in her display of bravado, but she did appreciate her sentiment. “Though I am not afraid of death, I certainly have found a great deal more to live for than I ever thought I would have again...” Samara trailed off at that thought, her eyes briefly drifting out of focus, almost pensive in her reflection.

“Here's to living,” said Miranda, raising her mostly empty glass in a salute, finishing the last of her drink.

At that, Samara shook herself from whatever temporary trance had come over her. “Yes. Indeed. As you once said to me, I will…’see you on the other side’,” Samara echoed Miranda’s words from The Collector Base, nodding her head in agreement. There was nothing more worthy of affirmation than the desire to emerge from the ashes when all this was over. “The hour grows late, and I fear I have kept you too long. Do you wish to return to the festivities?”

“You go on ahead,” Miranda encouraged. “And don’t just sit in a corner and meditate all night. Go...fucking have fun, Samara. You deserve it.”

Samara uttered a soft chuckle. “I am not entirely sure what that means, but if you are insistent, then...I will try to avail myself. The atmosphere is certainly...energetic,” she commented, as if sounding faintly overwhelmed by the party.

Miranda didn’t need to be a genius to recognise that it had been a long, long, long, long (too many longs to possibly put into a sentence) time since Samara would have experienced anything like this. The young Samara she had heard tales of had definitely been a wild child, but she had ceased to be that person even before her personal tragedy befell her. As a Justicar, she had been travelling alone, in total solitude, for over four hundred years, barely even speaking to anyone for most of that time, except as required to carry out her duties.

How many centuries had it been since she was able to get together like this with a group of friends? Since she even had a group of friends? Since she...relaxed and unwound? It was no wonder that, so far, she seemed content to watch from the sidelines more than actively participate in the unfolding chaos.

Still a little sad, though. At least from where Miranda was sitting.

“Will you join me?” Samara asked, extending her hand as she got to her feet.

“In a bit,” Miranda declined. “There's something I have to take care of first.”

Samara didn't ask what Miranda meant by that, respecting her decision. “Very well. May we speak again soon,” she said, taking her leave and rejoining the others.

Once Samara was gone, Miranda uttered a faint disgruntled sigh. “I know you're there, Kasumi,” she said, annoyed. “Samara may not have noticed, but I did.”

“Aw, what gave it away?” Kasumi playfully whined, de-cloaking in front of Shepard's closet.

“The movement as you rifled through those clothes,” Miranda answered plainly.

“Ooh, you're good,” Kasumi acknowledged. Most people wouldn't have seen it.

“Genetic enhancements. Superior vision. You've heard this story,” Miranda explained, waving that nonsense away. She elected not to ask what Kasumi was doing by rifling through Shepard’s clothes. That was the least unusual thing about this. “So, were you riveted by our conversation?” she asked.

“Actually, yes,” Kasumi replied, her answer apparently unfeigned. “Samara wasn’t kidding; you really have changed your perspective for the better. This new you, it's nice. You seem happy. I hope everything works out for you and your sister.”

Miranda couldn't quite manage to be cross with her after that kind response. “Yeah, well...I’ll never hear the end of it if the crew thinks I’ve gone soft and sentimental, so don’t go telling anyone. Besides, I haven't changed so much that I won't be capable of making your life hell if you let word of this spread around,” Miranda idly threatened, not meaning it at all.

Kasumi lost any trace of heartfelt sincerity after that. “On the other hand, I was also enthralled because I thought your little love session was going to end with you and Samara christening Shep's sheets,” she teased.

Miranda arched an eyebrow. Her and Samara? How absurd. “Of all the comebacks you could make...Really? A gay joke? In this day and age? What century are you from?” Honestly, it was the lack of creativity and wit that disappointed her more than anything. Kasumi was normally funnier than this.

“Who’s joking?” Kasumi wryly replied. “I was going to take bets from the others on which one of you topped. I picked you, for the record.”

Miranda snorted, not even humouring this nonsense. “Sure. If you say so.”

“Be dismissive if you want, but I was right across the hall from Samara. I overheard more than one of your conversations. I know nobody else knows how much time you spent together, but I do. Besides, Shepard has it all wrong; Samara's a much better match for you than Jack would ever be,” Kasumi nonchalantly commented.

Miranda sighed heavily and let her head fall in her hand, massaging her forehead in visible annoyance. “What is it with everyone tonight--”

As soon as Miranda began to utter the question, she found that Kasumi had already cloaked herself and disappeared, leaving her by herself. Miranda rolled her eyes, not even slightly shocked. Kasumi had done that to everyone all night.

Seriously, though, why was everyone suddenly so intent on getting her to sleep with women at this party? They knew she was straight, right?

* * *

Drip.

She stirred at the disturbance. Her right eye flickered open, but the other didn’t respond. Twisted metal and exposed wires loomed over her against the backdrop of an empty sky.

Drip.

A body hung out of the seat above her. Half a body. A cracked ribcage visibly protruded from a burned uniform. Entrails dangled from the open corpse. Droplets of blood ran down a lifeless arm swaying limp in the light breeze.

Drip.

Miranda had been here before. So many times. But this time, she was frozen in place. Trapped. Stuck. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t shift her body. Could only feel the blood and the viscera. It surrounded her. She was practically floating in a pool of it beneath her.

It was still warm.

Drip.

She could taste copper in her mouth. She was covered in sanguine from head to toe. She wasn’t sure how much was hers, and how much was the pilot’s.

Drip.

Her eyelid fluttered as a drop landed directly in her iris. As she blinked, she noticed something she’d never seen before. The pilot’s neck was bent back the wrong way. But there was a head. Half a head. Split clean open. Down the middle.

Her helmet had come off, exposing blonde hair. Stained with a crimson mask.

Drip.

Miranda’s instincts reacted before she did. Her heart began to race - her pulse quickening with a deep, abiding dread. Adrenaline surged through her veins. And she didn’t know why. Until she saw.

Until she saw the body above her move.

Drip.

That bent-backwards broken spine shifted consciously. And, with a wilful snap, suddenly that limp neck was above her. Hanging. That half-skull hovered directly over her. Looking at her. Appraising her.

Drip.

Miranda tensed with the urge to fight or flee, but she was frozen in place, as if made of stone. She couldn’t move a single part of her body below her neck.

Drip.

That torn face, broken in two, shifted back and forth, as if studying Miranda. Examining her. Asking itself…why did this stranger live, when I died?

Drip.

With one click of a button to release her harness, the pilot dropped to the floor, freed from her restraints. Miranda could only watch as that unliving corpse of the woman blasted in half by the Reaper unnaturally positioned itself above her. Then the thing looked over to one side. Its eye was fixed on Miranda’s left arm.

Her wounded limb hung like dead weight from her shoulder. Fractured. Lifeless. Her forearm was twisted around completely the wrong way from the elbow down. Miranda couldn’t so much as twitch her fingers in self-defence.

Drip.

Without warning, it seized her left hand.

“Ah!” Miranda gasped in pain, but couldn’t fight her off. Couldn’t move.

All she could do was lie there helplessly and watch as this dead creature lifted her broken, mangled arm. She willed herself not to scream from how much it hurt. Not to give it the satisfaction of breaking her.

Drip.

The pilot stared down at her, unmoved by her anguish. It felt nothing.

It never broke eye contact with her as it lifted her backwards-twisted hand towards itself. Until Miranda’s fingers were almost touching that split-open face.

Miranda would have resisted if she could, but it felt like her arm would rip clean in half at the elbow if she pulled back with even the slightest force.

Drip.

And then the pilot opened her mouth.

And a river of maggots came pouring out.

Wriggling.

Writhing.

Miranda could do nothing except watch as those horrible, crawling larvae spread from her fingers, down her palm, and to her wrist. And everywhere they touched, her flesh was consumed with rot. Infection. Disease. Death.

She could smell it.

She could fucking smell it.

And they just kept coming.

Drip.

Some of the vile things fell onto her abdomen, there were so many of them. And the rot took hold there too. Turning her skin sickly septic. Pestilent. Necrotic.

The pilot let go of her arm, letting it fall to the floor as the maggots swarmed her.

That half-body reached down and grabbed a fistful of the squirming things that were feasting on her still living corpse. It held that pulsating mass above her.

Drip.

“No,” was all Miranda could say, knowing what it intended.

But there was nothing she could say that would stop it.

Drip.

It shoved that handful of maggots directly onto her face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Instinctively, Miranda reached over and slapped the alarm off before anyone else would hear it. The next thing she did was bite down on her pillow to keep from screaming, or vomiting, stifling the lingering echoes of her nightmare.

Once the panic subsided, Miranda flopped onto her back, catching her breath.

Four forty-five in the morning.

This had been her bright idea to get some sorely-needed rest. She’d set her alarm to go off every half hour - to wake her before she could dream. It worked for the first three cycles. That was the fourth. Another failed solution. Another plan that hadn’t helped. Every time she slept, it was hell. It was always hell.

Miranda lay there in darkness, staring at the ceiling, listening to her ear ring. At least she’d got two hours before the nightmares struck this time. Thank Christ for that small mercy. But she was still so tired. She was so fucking tired.

Miranda could run on far less sleep than the average human. Persevere longer before frayed edges started to show. But even she had limits on what she could withstand. The longer this went on, the harder it got just to function.

How long did she have before she was physically incapable of staying awake?

Miranda had given up trying to pass time during the night. With anything. Didn’t use her computer. Didn’t read. Didn’t listen to music. Didn’t go out for walks by the river. Didn’t do any of the things she turned to in the past.

It was all so...boring. Everything was. Every single thing in her life that she used to use as a crutch to ward off these dreams had lost its lustre. Nothing was worth the effort of doing anymore. Expending the energy. All she had to keep herself awake anymore were her thoughts. And that sound.

That relentless

Fucking

Sound.

Days bled together in a blur. It almost didn’t feel like the past few hours had even happened. Fresh memories were like watching scenes from someone else’s life. What little release she’d had from getting off with Shiala earlier that night had already worked its way out of her system. It had been nothing more than a fleeting distraction, which offered scant relief from the problems that plagued her. And now she was back to this. A torment she’d been living with for so long that she no longer even remembered how it felt to be rested.

But thinking about literally anything else was preferable to dwelling on the nightmares, and she could only count the same cracks in the ceiling so many times before that would drive her clinically insane. So Miranda replayed the night in her head, trying to make sense of it all, and where it left her.

If sleeping with Shiala had accomplished one thing, it had proven that her feelings for Samara weren’t just in her head. No, the desire she’d felt when she imagined Samara in Shiala’s place, picturing her body beneath her, had not been some mere delusion. Those physical reactions couldn’t be faked or exaggerated. The sheer fucking want. That was real, vivid, stark, and intense.

So that was just great. After all that, not only had she not managed to convince herself that she was any less in love with Samara, she was now painfully conscious that she was sexually attracted to her. Extremely so.

It was the opposite of what she’d hoped to achieve. Fucking Shiala hadn’t been a release for her feelings. If anything, it had only crystalised them.

It was no wonder why Samara was dominating her thoughts. This obsession with her was about the only thing Miranda could feel at all anymore, outside of her nightmares. When it came to everything else in her life - all the death, the destruction, her own survival, her injuries, and the loss of all but a small handful of people she knew - everything else that should have provoked her to feel something, anything...there was nothing there. A hole. A void. An empty space.

She was just so fucking…

Blank.

Neutral.

Numb.

She couldn’t feel anything at all. Just hollowness. Except when Samara was there. And then, when she looked at her, when she felt her standing by her side, everything got so intense and so achingly real and corporeal that it burned. She came so alive in her proximity that she damn near couldn’t stand it.

But Samara wasn’t there.

She had gone again, leaving her to wilt in the dark.

And there Miranda lay. Staring at the ceiling. Avoiding her dreams. Listening to her ear ring. And she felt dead inside. Like every breath she took, she wasn’t getting enough air. Like she was asphyxiating, bit by bit. Suffocating so slowly that nobody would even notice if she simply stopped breathing. Not even herself.

But what the hell did she have to complain about?

She was still here.

Millions of others weren’t so lucky. Hell, billions.

As her mind began to wander in the way that minds could only wander when they were desperately tired and teetering on the verge of sleep, she thought about The Normandy. About the shockwave that had destroyed the mass relays, and all ships anywhere near them. The faster-than-light blast that killed her friends.

Miranda hadn’t even been conscious when it happened. She’d only heard descriptions of what it looked like when the Crucible fired. It painted a pretty grim picture. Jacob had told her how he’d seen people standing only a few feet in front of him scream as they disintegrated in front of his very eyes. Torn apart on a cellular level, in a single, bright, flash.

Was that what happened to The Normandy? Had it been sudden? Had they been scared, in their last moments? Had they felt pain? Did they even know that they were in danger? That they were going to die? Or did they just...blink out of existence, blissfully quickly?

Did it matter?

People didn’t go anywhere when they died. There was no soul. No afterlife. No heaven. No hell. There was just...nothing. People were, and then they weren’t.

They would never even find any trace of them, would they? They would never have anything to bury or lay to rest. Even reading out their names as she had done hadn’t added a sense of catharsis or closure to it. It still didn’t feel entirely real, even though Miranda knew it had to be. The Normandy would have either reported in or been found by now if anyone had survived.

And then she thought of the people who were serving aboard The Normandy when it disappeared. People she had spoken to only a few months ago - a mere matter of days before the battle for Earth. People she would never speak to again. People she probably hadn’t earned the right to call her friends.

Tali, Miranda had never had a problem with. They only talked when it was directly related to the ship or the mission, which had been an ideal working relationship from her perspective. She wasn’t on The Normandy to make friends. That wasn’t something she wanted or thought she needed back then. It was only around the time of Shepard’s party on the Citadel that Miranda had finally begun to twig that Tali actually did not like her at all, and never had. To her credit, she had simply been far too professional to let it show, or interfere with her job.

That was perfectly fine, honestly. And, if Tali really did hate Miranda this whole time, that made her not a bad judge of character, in fairness. She hadn’t realised it about herself when they served together but, in truth, Miranda hadn’t liked herself all that much either. Still didn’t, on some level.

Garrus, by contrast, was notoriously snarky and sarcastic towards her. She’d never thought turians could smirk before, but Garrus had proven they could. He would meet her commands with smart-arse quips and a wry glint in his eye. He never took Miranda’s shit. Needless to say, she hadn’t been his biggest fan because of that but, in retrospect, she couldn’t blame him. With the gift of hindsight, she now recognised she had been pretty intolerable to be around at times. If she’d had a better sense of humour, they could have traded some witty banter. But the old Miranda took herself far too seriously for that.

Liara, Miranda had met earlier than any other member of The Normandy, save Jacob. Miranda had enlisted her help to retrieve Shepard’s body from the Shadow Broker, before it fell into the hands of the Collectors. It was strange to think that that brief crossing of their paths had set all subsequent events in motion.

Miranda had been so focused on her own goals at that time that she never formed particularly strong impressions of Liara, beyond a mixture of respect for her capabilities, tinged with appropriate suspicion and mistrust. That mistrust had mostly faded through a combination of being there when Liara took down the Shadow Broker, and perhaps more importantly from getting to know Shepard well enough to trust her judgement about the company she kept.

She didn’t know Liara well enough to speculate as to whether she shared that sentiment. Miranda rarely cared to ponder others’ opinions of her. Presumably Shepard didn’t have quite as many positive things to say about Miranda as she did about Liara, given their relationship. But they’d never had any issues.

James, Javik and Ashley, Miranda obviously didn’t know. She’d barely been introduced to them, really only meeting them when Shepard threw that party. She hadn’t formed particularly noteworthy opinions of any of them, beyond that James was a bit of a meathead (albeit, a fairly charming one), Ashley was what happened when the quintessential military brat grew up and became a soldier, and Javik was coping with being the loneliest man in the universe by staying alive through the sheer burning willpower to avenge the destruction of his people.

Then again, maybe she was wrong about them.

Joker and EDI, though, Miranda definitely knew. Joker had never been shy when it came to talking shit about everyone on the ship. Miranda was no exception, although he was more cautious about her than most, given that she scared the crap out of him. Still, that hadn’t stopped him from spending an entire week humming the Wicked Witch of the West theme every time Miranda approached - a reference Miranda hadn’t understood (because of course she didn’t) until Jacob explained it to her, which led to her swiftly putting a stop to that.

And EDI? Well, EDI was The Normandy. The closest thing it had to a soul.

It was difficult to say whether Miranda could truly consider her a ‘person’, but on some level she supposed she did. She did think of her as one. Miranda had always found herself being instinctively polite to EDI, even in moments when she didn’t extend the same politeness to anyone else. But for as calm and helpful as EDI could be, she also had a personality. A sense of humour. Desires. Wants. In some ways, maybe she was more human than Miranda herself.

And then there was Doctor Chakwas, and Gabby and Ken, and Engineer Adams, and Kelly Chambers, and Mess Sergeant Gardener. So many people. So many faces that had become part of her world. She didn’t even like all of them, but they were there. And now they weren’t.

And Shepard.

Where did she even start when it came to Shepard?

Meeting Shepard had changed Miranda’s life on a fundamental level. She’d led by example, and shown her a different way of being. She was the undeniable proof that being kind and empathetic wasn’t a weakness, but a strength. That making friends with the people around her wasn’t a distraction from more important work, but an essential tool she used to build a strong and loyal team.

She was, without exaggeration or qualification, as close to a perfect human being as Miranda had ever met. If humanity strived to be more like Andrea Shepard, then the galaxy would be a better place.

Huh. What would Shepard say if she could see Miranda now?

Do you even miss us?

At all?

Good question, Miranda thought. Was this what it was like? Was this how a normal person was supposed to act when they missed people who had died? Because it didn’t feel that way. If this was a test, she was failing. Despite what Samara had said about there being no correct or incorrect way to grieve, it certainly didn’t feel like she was mourning the right way, whatever that meant.

Do you even care that we’re gone?

You haven’t cried.

Not once.

Not even the faintest sting in your eye.

No, she hadn’t. She’d never really been able to do that. Only Oriana ever brought that out of her. And Miranda wasn’t speaking to her right now. Because she still had nothing positive to say.

At this rate, it wasn’t looking like that was going to change anytime soon.

Miranda lay there in the dark for two more hours, forcing herself not to slip into slumber. It was seven in the morning when she finally willed her weary limbs to get her up and out of bed. She had already heard the pipes going, so she knew some of the kids were awake. Sometimes she got up before them, but she usually waited for them to stir as her signal to stop pretending to sleep. It aroused less suspicion if she wasn’t the first one up every morning. And her ruse must have been working because so far none of them had noticed.

She got up, had her shower, got dressed, and joined the early risers for breakfast.

“Morning, Miss,” Leah Brooks greeted her.

“Morning.” Miranda opened the fridge, her voice slightly hoarse. She stopped, blinking as she glanced back at the students. “...Is that actual fresh milk in the fridge?” she asked, wondering if she was just hallucinating from insomnia.

“Sure is,” Rodriguez confirmed.

“How on Earth do we have that?” said Miranda, on a slight delay.

“Black market,” Rodriguez answered with a shrug.

Miranda gave her a single nod of approval, grabbing the glass bottle. “Good girl.” She was teaching them well. It was worth every credit to have food that didn’t come in powder form whenever they could manage to get their hands on it.

With that, Miranda poured herself a bowl of cereal and joined the kids at the table. They ate in silence for a solid two minutes. Despite not paying the students much mind, she didn’t fail to notice that they were sneaking surreptitious glances at her, and being awkwardly quiet. They were usually chattier. She didn’t ask them what this was about, because she didn’t care. It was always some teenage nonsense with them. As long as it was harmless.

“...Screw it, I’m gonna ask her,” Reiley eventually broke the silence.

“Don’t! Don’t fucking ask her,” Rodriguez warned, hushing her voice as if that would somehow make her imperceptible, even though Miranda was sitting right across the table and could see her and hear every single word uttered between the two of them. “I’ve played this game, it doesn’t go we--”

“Miss…” Reiley began, completely ignoring Rodriguez’s protestations. “Is it true you banged an asari last night?”

Miranda fumbled her spoon.

Fuck.

“First of all, that’s a very inappropriate question,” Miranda responded, not at all impressed with Jack’s students. And she stood by that assessment, even if she knew damn well she was being a giant hypocrite, because she was also prone to asking questions she wanted to know the answers to without caring who she offended in the process. But the key difference there was that she did that to other people, and this was now happening to her. And that was obviously unacceptable. “Secondly, where is this even coming from?”

“I overheard you talking to Mr Taylor last night,” Leah solved that mystery.

At that, Miranda’s normally faultless composure cracked. “You...what?”

“We sleep right there.” Leah pointed at her room. “Voices carry.”

Instead of coming up with some elaborate fiction, which she was far too drained to do, Miranda simply ran her fingers through her hair and uttered a frustrated groan. Damn it, Jacob. She should have guessed at least one of them might be awake and listening through the door when she came home.

“Holy shit. You were right. She did,” said Rodriguez, finding all the proof she needed in Miranda’s reaction, and complete lack of any defence.

Leah made a gesture with her fingers. “I told you. Pay up.”

“You know it's rude to eavesdrop on people,” Miranda pointed out, displeased.

“Pfft. You would do it to us,” Reiley remarked.

“No, I wouldn't. None of you have anything remotely interesting to say,” Miranda countered, going back to her cereal, seeing little point in denying the truth, although there was no way in hell she was going to divulge anything further.

“Yeah, well, if we did, you would,” Reiley replied with a shrug.

Miranda never liked admitting when other people were right so she didn’t respond.

“Was it Samara?” Rodriguez asked, immensely intrigued, or at least pretending to be for the purposes of screwing with her. “I know I sensed a vibe between the two of you. So were you lying when you said she wasn't your girlfriend?”

Miranda rolled her eye. She hated her life. She hated everything.

“You will run out of cereal eventually, and then you’ll have to talk,” Leah teased.

Miranda fixed her with a one-eyed glare as she ate, making it plain that this pestering would get them precisely nowhere but ignored. She really did wish that Jacob hadn’t made her be nice to these teens. Back when they were intimidated by her, they never would have pulled this stunt.

At that instant, Prangley emerged from his room, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes.

“Jason. Good to see you,” Miranda called his attention to her, seeing an opportunity to escape this torment. “Do me a favour. Bring my pistol over here and shoot me with it, would you?” Miranda requested with an entirely straight face.

Prangley blinked blearily, certain he must have misheard. “What?”

“Kill me,” Miranda reiterated, in the same tone. “I don't want to live anymore.”

“What? Why?” asked Jason.

“She boned an asari last night and Leah overheard her and Mr Taylor talking about it,” Rodriguez explained. “It was totally Samara,” she added in an aside.

“Oh. Nice,” said Prangley, continuing his march to the kitchen, unfazed.

Miranda exhaled in annoyance. “Damn it, Jason.” He’d been her best hope of backing her up and putting a stop to this. And he’d failed her. She was disappointed. “You were this close to being my favourite,” she complained in jest, holding her thumb and forefinger a small distance apart.

Jason shrugged. He wasn’t about to interfere with this. She was on her own.

“Samara seems really cool, Miss,” Reiley commented, nodding in approval.

“And also super hot,” Leah chimed in. “And I mean that in both a feminist way and a lesbian way. So, you know...good for you.”

Jason snorted. “Did you just congratulate her on who she had sex with?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” Leah confirmed. “I mean, have you seen Samara?”

“It wasn't Samara!” Miranda insisted, finally getting fed up with this.

Rodriguez gasped excitedly. “So you're seeing someone else? Who is it? Is she your girlfriend? Is that why you and Samara aren't together? Wait, oh my God, Miss, are you cheating on Samara? Is that why she left London?”

Miranda let her head fall forward and hit the table with a thud. This was why she normally chose to stay silent when they tried to get a rise out of her like this. Shame she’d forgotten that strategy in her exasperation.

“Wow. You’ve officially done it. You’re all dead to her now,” Jason noted.

“Oh, I crossed that boundary a long time ago,” Rodriguez assured him, evidently proud that she’d finally managed to break Miranda. “I have nothing to lose.”

“How about the roof over your head,” Miranda retorted, picking up her cereal, deciding she would rather starve than continue to be subjected to this.

“Pfft. You don’t mean that,” Rodriguez brushed her off. Miranda just silently arched her eyebrow at her as she limped away. Rodriguez began to sweat, turning to her partners in crime. “She...She doesn’t mean that, right?”

Jason just pulled a face, as if to say he’d warned her.

* * *

“I heard a rumour about you,” Shepard began, approaching Miranda near the lounge on the second floor.

The party had gone fairly late into the evening by that point, and the energy was starting to wind down. Miranda hadn’t asked but somehow she got the sense that everyone was planning on crashing at Shepard’s for the night, since nobody had made any motions to leave yet.

“I’m the subject of many rumours, Shepard,” Miranda dryly replied, sitting back against the armrest. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Although, if it’s the one about the incident with the drop bear, I swear that only happened one time and only three people died.”

“Drop bear?” Shepard echoed curiously, tilting her head, as if trying to work out whether that was Miranda’s serious voice or her sarcastic voice. Miranda just gave an ambiguous shrug. If Shepard couldn’t tell, then she wasn’t going to spoil it. “Nah, it was nothing that exciting. Although remind me to ask you about that later. I’ve been told you’re considering an early retirement?”

Miranda sighed, not needing to guess where that had come from. “Kasumi...”

“Mhmm,” Shepard confirmed the source of her information. “And, from that look, I'm starting to think it's true. So, this is really it for you, huh? Once we get rid of the Reapers, you're out – you're done.”

“Well, not immediately. I'm not about to leave people dying in the streets. But yes, you heard correctly,” Miranda replied, taking a sip from her freshly refilled glass of wine. It was a relief that not every single bottle or glass had been destroyed when Garrus set up that makeshift shooting gallery. “I’m my own woman now.”

“Really?” Suffice it to say, Shepard didn't seem to be buying it. “Not working for anyone at all, other than yourself. Ever. You're sure?”

“I haven’t made up my mind about ‘ever’, but yes. As of right now, that's the plan,” Miranda answered.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but who are you and what have you done with the real Miranda Lawson?” Shepard teasingly remarked, since this was the single most uncharacteristic thing the Miranda she had come to know a year ago could possibly have said or done.

“Oh, she’s dead. I buried her under the floorboards. I probably should have mentioned, I’m also an escaped Cerberus clone. You are the fake Shepard, right? Because if you’re not, then this is a joke and you should forget I said that,” Miranda responded, her tone completely deadpan.

Shepard laughed, moving to sit across from her on the opposite sofa. “Seriously, what brought this on? Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

Miranda exhaled, shifting until she was seated on the armrest, deciding to stop being snarky and start being direct. “Being on the run this past year...It's been the worst year of my life. Including all the years I lived with my father. But if nothing else, being on my own for so long made me realise that, for as long as I've been alive, everything about me has always been controlled by other people. In one way or another, I've never been free to make my own choices. Except for a few months with you. I need to take some time away to breathe. Just be me, without anyone expecting anything from me. Figure out how to be...”

“What?” Shepard prompted, when Miranda fell silent.

“I was going to say ‘an actual fucking person’ and then I realised how depressing that was,” Miranda muttered with appropriate self-awareness, earning a light chuckle from Shepard. “I guess that’s the whole point. I don’t even know who I am when I’m not working myself to the bone. I could be anybody under all this.” Miranda vaguely gestured at herself.

“And what if you can’t stand having nothing to do?” asked Shepard.

“Then I change plans,” Miranda answered plainly. She wasn’t so attached to this idea that she couldn’t be flexible if it didn’t work out, and she wasn't sure why it mattered. As it stood, the chances of any of their dreams for the future coming to fruition were slim at best. “But how can you be so certain that I'll hate it? I'm not; I've never had the freedom to do nothing before. Maybe I'll thrive.”

“But you were always putting yourself under pressure to stay busy, even when you didn’t have to. You love how much of a workaholic you are. Don’t deny it. You were practically begging me to give you more stuff to do towards the end there. What would you even do with your time if you’re no longer devoting yourself to some kind of high-powered career?” Shepard wondered aloud.

“I don’t know. There are a lot of things I’ve never done before, and never thought I’d do.” Miranda shrugged. “Maybe I’ll try being a blonde for a while. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo. Maybe I’ll become Wiccan. Maybe I’ll get fat.”

Shepard stared at her sceptically, sensing the obvious sarcasm.

“What? Don’t think I couldn’t do it if I set my mind to it. I’m secretly a foodie at heart, you know,” Miranda pointed out, her tone drier than her wine.

“And you have a superhuman metabolism,” Shepard countered.

“Ah. Right. Scratch that one off the list then,” said Miranda, taking another sip from her glass. “Blonde, tattooed Wiccan it is.” Shepard laughed, entertained.

“Well, when Hell freezes over a million years from now, I look forward to meeting that version of you. But, until that happens, you know it’s not a two-party system, right? You don’t have to choose between going in a totally new direction forever, or staying exactly as you are right now. There's a lot you can do that isn't either of those things,” Shepard reminded her, gesturing as she spoke. “You'd excel at anything you tried. It doesn't have to involve life or death struggles over the fate of the galaxy. And, if you’re sick of bringing people back to life, you can retire from science and move onto something else. I could definitely see you taking well to life as a lawyer, or a CEO, or even a political leader.”

“Politics?” Miranda snorted, reaching out across the gap with an insincere handshake. “Hi, I’m Miranda Lawson, former terrorist. Vote for me.”

“Point taken,” Shepard conceded.

“You also realise that all the professions you listed have a higher than average ratio of sociopaths compared to the general population,” Miranda noted.

Shepard scratched the back of her head. “Sunday school teacher?” she offered.

“Can’t do that. I’m becoming Wiccan, remember?” Miranda quipped. “Did you really come and find me just to try and talk me out of this?”

“No. No, I didn't. It's...actually the exact opposite,” said Shepard, shaking her head and leaning back against the cushions. “Because the truth is I've been thinking the same thing; that this is the end for me too,” she confessed, piquing Miranda's intrigue. “If I make it through this...I don’t know if I can keep fighting other people’s battles anymore. If I can, I don’t know if I want to.”

“I guess after stopping a galactic genocide, all other conflicts start to look petty in comparison,” Miranda mused, swirling her glass, strangely empathising with that sentiment. What would be the point of Shepard saving the entire goddamn galaxy from the Reapers, only to then continue imperilling her life, risking getting shot and killed day after day over some insignificant political squabble that didn’t matter the slightest bit in the grand scheme of things?

Shepard had been lucky enough to get a second chance at life. Literally. She had more reason than anyone to realise how precious that was. And also how fragile.

It would have been beyond tragic if Andrea wouldn’t get to savour a calm, peaceful future if the war with the Reapers ever ended - a future that would only be possible because of her. Because she was the one person who saw what truly mattered, and valued collective unity over selfish, shortsighted division.

“Don’t take anything I’ve been saying about you as an attack. It’s not,” Shepard assured her. “I'm just surprised, and maybe projecting a little, because...I have no clue what I'm going to do after this, and it's terrifying to me. I’ve never...I’ve never not been a soldier. I don’t even know how to be an...an ‘actual fucking person’, like you said. And neither do you. And yet here you are, and that doesn't bother you at all. I thought it would have been the other way around.”

“Me too,” Miranda conceded. “But things are different now.”

“You mean you're different now,” Shepard added, impressed by Miranda’s growth.

“You helped,” said Miranda. She crossed the floor and sat down beside Shepard, sinking into the seat, leaning her head back on the lounge to look up at the ceiling. “I’ve been cognisant for a very long time that I’m not a normal person, Shepard. Not only that, but...I don’t have the faintest clue how to pretend to be normal,” Miranda elected to be frank about that flaw. Though she rarely showed weakness, she felt safe sharing that with her. “My whole life, I’ve never seen the point trying to fit in with other people when I know I can’t, and don’t even want to. So, while I might not be showing it...I am more scared than you think. But I’m also just kind of over worrying about anything anymore? Maybe because I’ve spent most of this past year living in constant fear. I think I got sick of it.”

Shepard paused, considering Miranda’s words. “Can I be honest with you?” she began, after several seconds had passed. Miranda gestured for her to go ahead. “I also have no idea how to be a normal person. I think that’s what’s freaking me out about what comes next. What if I’m bad at it?”

“What a horrible thought. Being bad at mundane problems,” Miranda dryly commented, hoping her sarcasm would help Shepard put her anxieties into perspective. “What if you mix up your recyclable plastics with your non-recyclables? Perish the thought. That’s a disaster, right there.”

“I’m being serious,” Shepard insisted, though it was obvious she got the meaning behind Miranda’s comment. “Look, you get what I’m going through better than anyone. You and I, we’re both...not to sound arrogant, but we’re both fuckin’ good at what we do,” Shepard stated plainly. And she wasn’t wrong. They were the best of the best. “What if we suck at everything else?”

Miranda shrugged. “Then it was a fun experiment, both of us trying to be ordinary people for a while. I think it will be worth it.”

Shepard exhaled, and rested her head on her hand. “So...what does being a regular, everyday person look like to Miranda Lawson?” she wondered aloud. “What does a nice, safe, boring future look like to you?”

That was a question Miranda had no problems answering. She had a singular vision. “I’ve promised Oriana that we’re going to find a quiet spot on a colony world. We’ll buy a big plot of land far away from anyone else, and build our dream house. Somewhere with a view, where we can sit out on the deck, watch the sunset, drink wine and eat sashimi while we talk about our day,” Miranda revealed, trusting Andrea enough to tell her what she said to Ori before she left.

“...That sounds pretty great,” Shepard said softly. In that simple description of what life after the war meant to her, and the goal she was fighting for, it had instantly clicked into place why Miranda was so content with the idea of ‘retiring’.

“What about you?” Miranda asked, gently nudging Shepard’s knee with her own. “Where does Andrea Shepard see herself in five years’ time?”

“That’s the million credit question, isn’t it?” Shepard spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. She sat forward, electing to just give voice to what was in her heart. “Honestly, this is going to sound corny as hell, but...when I think of my future, I can’t see anything but Liara. That’s it. Nothing would make me happier than just...I don’t know, having a boring fuckin’ house with a yard and a white picket fence, and lots of little blue children running around.”

“Maybe I’m getting sentimental in my old age, but that might possibly be the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Miranda commented, eliciting a sheepish chuckle as Shepard rubbed the back of her neck.

“Oh, God, we are getting old, aren’t we? And we’re only in our thirties,” Shepard realised aloud, as if it had hit her that both of them had been through enough to fill several lifetimes. No wonder they both wanted to ‘retire’ so young.

“Mhmm. And I’ve got five years on you, so I can promise you it’s all downhill from here,” Miranda confirmed, taking another sip of wine. “But I meant that, though. Don’t be ashamed of that dream. Lots of people would kill for something like that.” Herself included, she thought. “And you will make an excellent…father? Father’s the correct word in this context, right?” Miranda asked aloud, earning a nod. “Take it from someone who killed hers: you would be the best Dad ever.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.” Shepard gave her a light knock on the arm.

“I’m not. I’m really not. Okay, I know it sounds like I am, but…” Miranda trailed off for a moment, a thought occurring to her. “Huh. You know what? I just realised something. You and I actually both have the exact same dream,” she pointed out, turning to face Andrea. “We want a family.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, we do, don’t we?” Shepard nodded in agreement, seeing the clarity in Miranda’s words. “Ours just look a little different from each other.”

“So, that settles it. We’re both going to hang up our weapons and retire somewhere nice and dull so we can each have the families we always wanted,” Miranda reiterated. Despite her efforts to be hopeful, at those words, she couldn’t keep a pessimistic sigh from escaping her. “Now, we both just have to convince ourselves that we'll live long enough to do that.”

“I'd bet on you,” Shepard acknowledged, glancing over at her.

“And I’d bet on you,” Miranda replied with a bittersweet smile, but it lacked the conviction to reach her eyes. “Don't get me wrong; I haven't given up, and I'm going to fight for that future as hard as I can. But I can't believe that it's going to happen until I'm standing in the rubble and the Reapers are all gone.”

Shepard exhaled heavily, sinking lower against the couch. “That makes two of us.”

The more Miranda thought about it, the more it became painfully apparent that their odds of getting to lead those lives they were imagining were slim to zero. Even if by some miracle they did find a way to defeat the Reapers, it was virtually impossible that both she and Shepard would survive whatever came next. At best, it seemed like a binary choice. One or the other. And Miranda knew which of the two of them was least likely to endure if push came to shove.

Her body tensed imperceptibly. An apprehensiveness fell over her. A sense of urgency rose in her stomach. Words she couldn't leave unsaid.

“...Shepard,” Miranda began, her tone serious. “If anything happens to me—“

“Miranda,” Andrea attempted to cut her off, but Miranda ignored her interruption. She couldn't forgive herself if she stayed silent about this.

“Just listen, Shepard. If I can’t be there for her, for whatever reason, promise you'll keep an eye on Ori for me?” Miranda persisted, needing to hear Andrea give her word on that, because she understood what this meant to her, and she would absolutely follow through. Even if Andrea had to die to honour her commitment to Miranda, it wouldn’t stop her. “Make sure she's okay.”

“You can do that yourself,” Shepard replied, either refusing to fear the worst, or determined not to let her crew see that she possessed any doubts that they would live to see those tomorrows, come what may.

“Hypothetically, then,” said Miranda, rolling her eyes at Shepard’s reluctance to answer the question. “If something happened to me, whether now or twenty years from now...I need to know: would you look out for Oriana if I couldn't?”

Andrea relented, realising what she was asking, and why. “Of course I would.”

“Do you swear?” Miranda pressed.

Shepard sighed, and held up her pinkie. “I swear.” Eyeing that gesture somewhat peculiarly, Miranda eventually extended her own little finger. However, Andrea pulled away before they could interlock. “Uh uh. But before we do that, I need you to make the same promise to me. So, if--”

“Liara does not need protecting, Shepard,” Miranda reminded her.

“You had your turn. Let me finish,” said Shepard. Miranda signalled for her to take the floor. “Thank you. Now, if anything ever happens to me...you’re the one person I trust more than anyone else to step in for me when I’m gone. No matter what, you’ll have your shit together, and you’ll do what needs to be done. So, if I can’t be here…” Instead of articulating it all in words, Shepard flicked her gaze out towards the balcony, down to the lower floor, where everyone else was. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but...just do what you can for them. Watch over them for me. Make sure they’re alright. And, if they’re not...do what you think I would do.”

At that request, Miranda softened. It hadn’t been what she’d anticipated Andrea would say, but perhaps she should have seen it coming. Shepard loved her crew like family. She was their North Star. A guiding light who united so many disparate personalities in a common cause, and brought out the best in all of them.

Shepard really was a hero.

A bloody icon.

How could Miranda possibly say no?

“What else is a second-in-command good for if not that?” Miranda extended her hand once more. At that, Shepard finally locked pinkies with her, swearing on it. “You know I’ve never done this before - pinkie promised,” Miranda noted, finding it a bit juvenile.

“Of course you haven’t.” Shepard shook her head, not at all shocked by that. It was at that particular moment that a certain AI came up the stairs, into view. Shepard called out to her. “Hey, EDI. I have a question for you.”

“What would you like to know?” EDI asked.

“What the hell is a drop bear?” said Shepard.

Miranda arched her brow, and took a long drink, saying nothing.

“One moment.” By the time she finished saying ‘one moment’, EDI had already concluded her search of the Extranet. “Here is what I’ve found: the drop bear is a hoax Australian folklore creature. The origins of the drop bear hoax are unknown, though it appears it may have originated as a campfire story in the early-to-mid-20th century. Australians have been known to pretend the drop bear is a real creature so as to frighten and confuse tourists and non-Australians for their own amusement.” EDI paused for a beat. “It is a joke.”

“Thank you, EDI,” said Miranda, concealing a smirk. Way to ruin the fun.

Shepard slowly turned to her, eyeing Miranda in quiet bewilderment. “...Did you of all people just prank me with a two-hundred-year-old joke?”

“Not that I’m that attached to it, but I’m pretty sure I would be stripped of my citizenship if I didn’t do that at least once before I die,” Miranda informed her.

Shepard’s expression didn’t change. “Mhmm.”

* * *

“So are you gay now?” was the first thing Jack said to her the next time they saw each other, a week after their last meeting.

Miranda sighed. God damn it. Nobody could keep their mouths shut about anything, could they? “I’m something,” she muttered, taking off her wet jacket. It had been raining all day. And not the usual soft English drizzle that didn’t even warrant mentioning, but actual rain.

“Good for you,” Jack replied, not actually interested. “Let’s play.”

Miranda slumped down into the chair across the table from Jack, the raindrops pittering off the windows behind her. “Your advice was terrible, by the way,” she told her as she moved her first piece.

“Nah, you’re just a shit lay,” Jack countered, making her own opening.

Miranda flicked her eye up at her, unamused, but decided it was best not to validate that comment with a response.

All of a sudden, Jack started laughing at something unsaid.

“What?” Miranda asked suspiciously.

“...‘Meh’-randa,” Jack remarked, making an appropriately nonchalant gesture.

Miranda exhaled heavily, rubbing her temple in annoyance. “Jack, I need you to understand this,” she began, placing her elbow on the table and leaning forward as she spoke, eerily calm. “One of these days, you will forget that this conversation ever happened. You will go on with your life, and there will come a day when you are blissfully ignorant and happy. And on that day, I will come to wherever you live. And I will break into your room. And I will suffocate you in your sleep.”

“Fair,” Jack conceded. “Worth it, though.”

Miranda leaned back in her chair, oddly relieved to have gotten that off of her chest after biting her tongue for so long. “God, that felt good. Why did I ever stop insulting you?” she wondered aloud, starting to think she should snap back at her more often instead of taking every jibe Jack threw at her in stride.

“Because you’re a fucking pussy now apparently.” Jack shrugged, focused only on the game. “Shut up and play me.” Miranda didn’t need to be asked twice.

She didn’t know what it was about that particular day. Maybe it was the dreary weather, and the sound of the rain making the tinnitus a little less abrasive for once. Maybe it was how long both of them were taking between moves. But, for whatever reason, Miranda found herself stifling yawns as the game went on.

She moved a pawn, and leaned her head against her hand as Jack studied the board, weighing up her strategies, keen to avoid falling into another trap.

God, she was so fucking tired.

It had been three days since she last slept. Or...wait, was it four? She couldn’t remember. Six or seven days seemed to be her absolute limit before she started passing out irrespective of willpower, and that was because she was, quote unquote, a ‘genetic freak’ as Jacob had once put it. She’d only managed two hours of thirty-minute naps the last time she got any rest at all.

Her eyelid felt so heavy. Every single time she blinked, it stayed dark a little longer, and it took a little bit more effort and time to open it again.

What harm would it do to just rest her eye for a second, she wondered? It wasn’t like she was going to fall asleep, sitting up like she was. Although, leaning on her hand felt so fucking comfortable. She didn’t want to move.

So Miranda let her eyelid drift shut for a moment, listening to the rain.

…

...

“Hey, eyepatch.”

…

...

“Eyepatch?”

Miranda was vaguely aware that someone was talking, but it didn’t reach her in the darkness. That was, until Jack hit the table, hard, and startled her awake. Miranda’s head slipped off her hand. At that jolt, she panicked and reflexively reared back so hard that she damn near fell out of her chair.

“What? What? What is it?” Miranda took a few moments to blink and remember where she was after being shaken from her stupor. It only clicked when she found Jack sitting across from her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Am I boring you?” Jack remarked, arms folded across her chest impatiently.

Miranda shook her head, trying to save face. “It’s called ‘thinking’, Jack. You should try it sometime,” she retorted, moving a piece quickly as if to prove she hadn’t just blacked out for a couple of minutes.

Jack glanced down at the board. “You can’t do that.”

“What?”

“That’s not a legal move,” Jack pointed out. Miranda checked the board. She honestly didn’t even know what piece she’d just touched. Jack reached across, and dragged her knight back to where it should have been. Jack sat back in her chair and fixed her with a stare.

“...Fuck me dead,” Miranda muttered under her breath, realising she actually had to stop and concentrate to figure out her next move.

“Forget it. I’m out.” Jack pushed her chair back from the table and stood up.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” Miranda insisted.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to beat you when you’re like this. That wouldn’t even count,” said Jack, gesturing listlessly towards her, having lost all interest.

“I’m not ‘like’ anything. I’m just…” Miranda trailed off, staring at the board, stuck for a move. Her head was so full of fog that she couldn’t see any options. The whole table was a blur. A featureless mush. Every piece looked the same. She couldn’t even fucking think. If someone asked her to name a single rule of the game in that instant, she would have drawn a complete blank.

“Go home. Take a fucking nap or whatever. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you look like death, by the way. More even than usual,” Jack casually observed, opening her fridge and pulling out a can of energy drink.

“I’m fine!” Miranda barked, a little too loud, willing that lie to be the truth.

“I honestly don’t care. You could jump off a bridge for all the difference it makes to me. I wouldn’t stop you,” Jack said frankly, nonchalantly gesturing with her drink in her hand. “All that matters to me is making sure you don’t have a fuckin’ excuse when I destroy you. So get the fuck out of my apartment, and don’t come back until you stop sucking at the only reason I keep you around.”

Miranda swallowed a groan, the pain in her head only growing. Jack obviously wasn’t going to change her mind. This game was over. “Alright. Fine. Suit yourself,” she grumbled as she got up, collecting her things. “See you next week.”

“Only if you don’t look like complete shit by then,” Jack commented, prepared to close the door in her face if she wasn’t going to play her at her best.

Miranda left and went out into the cold December rain, which showed no signs of easing. The problem was, she didn’t have anywhere to go. She couldn’t go home. There was nothing there to keep her awake. And she absolutely was not ready to fall asleep, and contend with the nightmares that awaited her.

She couldn’t go to the bar, because drinking would make her tired. The last time she got drunk, the nightmares were so visceral that she woke up vomiting.

She thought about it a bit longer, and then one option came to mind. She still had a key to her office. Bailey had banned her from working weekends out of concern for her wellbeing if he didn’t, sure, but he wouldn’t be there. Even if he was, she could avoid him seeing her. Nobody else would question her presence. She ranked above them. They would just assume something had come up, and most of them were too intimidated by her to talk to her anyway.

So Miranda fell back on her one and only crutch. Her only coping mechanism. Her favourite distraction from her problems. She buried herself in her work.

“Director Lawson,” the man at reception greeted her. She glanced at his name tag to remember who the hell he was. “What are you doing here on a weekend?”

“Losing control of my life, Ian,” Miranda remarked as she limped right past him, heading straight for the lift without stopping.

He chuckled at that. “Aren’t we all? You have a good day, now.”

Miranda rolled her eye as soon as he looked away. As predicted, there were no interruptions between her and her office. Nobody thought to question her.

She didn’t even glance at the clock as the hours ticked by, and file after file went across her desk. Task after task got done. When she finished her own matters, she moved onto work delegated to her subordinates, just to stay there longer. Nobody bothered her. Even without distractions, it was hard to concentrate. Her mind was full of fog. Everything she did was lost in a haze, forgotten mere seconds after she did it. But, in the present, it was something to focus on.

It wasn’t easy, though. She had instances where she...lost time. Just drifted into space for a few seconds, here or there. When that happened, she would go and fill up on coffee. She only decided she’d had too much when she started to feel her heart beating a little too fast in her chest, and her fingers got jittery, and she had to flex her hand to keep it from shaking. If she had any more she would probably start hallucinating, as if she wasn’t on the verge of that already.

So maybe she’d hit her limit as far as caffeine toxicity went.

But she was awake.

She was fucking awake.

It was dark out, and still raining by the time she was snapped out of her work-induced daze by a text message alert. She already knew who it was. Miranda squeezed her eye shut, resting the base of her palm against her forehead, fighting off the constant, nagging pain that had become her permanent companion. She knew she shouldn’t look. But she had to. She couldn’t resist hearing from her.

Miranda opened her message tab on her computer, and clicked on Oriana’s name.

“Still not talking, huh?” said the first message. And then a second and third popped up. “Okay. That’s fine. Take your time. I’ve got more jokes.”

Oriana could see that Miranda was reading her messages in realtime. She would know that she was there on the other end at that very moment, not replying back. And yet, in typical Oriana fashion, she wasn’t calling her out on it or judging her for it or demanding a reason for her silence. Just letting her be.

“A horse walks into a bar and the bartender says, ‘Why the long face?’ And the horse says, ‘I have crippling depression, Steven. I’ll thank you not to mention it’.”

When that joke garnered no response, Oriana sent another.

“A glazier invited me to high tea. It didn’t go well. Turns out people in glasshouses shouldn’t throw scones. Eh? Worked on that one for ages.”

Miranda felt the warmth of a single, stray tear trickling down her cheek. God, she loved Oriana. She loved Oriana so much it physically hurt. No one else could be so...bright, and radiant, and happy, and genuine about it. Her positivity and cheerfulness wasn’t faked, or feigned, or insincere. She was just like this. Just funny, and kind, and...and fucking perfect.

“Why did the funeral director need to go to the doctor?” Oriana asked. “Because he couldn’t stop coffin--okay, no, that one was atrocious even for me. I’m sorry. Please delete that. You deserve better.”

If she were in a better mental and emotional state, all of this would have brought a smile to her face. Of course it would have. Oriana always did. Miranda thought about finally texting her back. Saying something. Anything. Even started to type. Just wanted to let her know she was okay. Just wanted to talk to her. Needed that connection with the person who mattered to her most.

But she stopped herself.

What the fuck did she have to offer Oriana right now? What could she say to her that was worthwhile when she was this dour and miserable?

She could just see how it would play out. She would say something, and then Oriana would eventually start asking questions. She would need, and deserve, some sort of explanation as to why Miranda had been so quiet. So distant. Any half-hearted excuses would be recognised for the lies they were.

Oriana would ask her if she was okay, because of course she would. And, then, if Miranda started telling her the truth, that she really wasn’t, and hadn’t been for a long time, she didn’t see how she could stop the floodgates from opening. Everything she’d been holding back since the shuttle crash, Oriana would bring it out of her, like a torrent after a storm. And she just...refused to be that person. Refused to drown her little sister in her unresolved trauma.

Oriana was the Sun. She was light, and warmth. Basking in her presence for even a few minutes could make even the lowest person feel uplifted, and stronger, and brighter. She was doing just fine without Miranda. She always had.

Why bother her? Why disturb that?

In fact, all the best times in Oriana’s life had been the moments when Miranda had pushed her as far away as possible. When she wasn’t involved. When she kept herself at a distance. Ever since Miranda introduced herself to Oriana on Illium, Ori’s life had only gotten worse. Never better. A downward spiral.

Perhaps that was a sign.

What did she really think was going to happen when they met up with each other again anyway? That they were going to spend the rest of their lives together? As if. Oriana was twenty. She would be twenty-one before too long. She was only just starting to grow into her own as an independent adult. She would want to go do things normal twenty-one-year-olds did, without anyone cramping her unique personal style, or getting in her way as she formed new connections.

The Reaper Invasion had cut short her degree and compelled her to start work earlier than expected, but she probably planned to finish her education at some point. Chances were she would want to move in with friends her own age. Eventually, of course, she would meet some boy she liked (who Miranda would absolutely hate) and she would want to find a place with him. Statistically speaking, that would happen more than once over the course of her life.

She wasn’t a kid anymore. Oriana was an adult. At exactly the age where families like theirs...tended to drift apart from one another. When young women like Ori wanted to go out into the wider world and discover themselves, and carve out an identity free of any ties to their childhood. And it was at that moment that a thought abruptly struck Miranda that had never connected before.

When she and Oriana had talked about finally getting to be a family, they probably had very different ideas of what that looked like.

And Miranda’s vision of that future was completely fucking delusional.

It always had been.

She wasn’t helping Oriana by being near her. Wasn’t protecting her, because the man who posed a danger to her was dead. With Henry Lawson out of the picture, Ori didn’t need her in her life. In many respects, she never had.

Miranda wasn’t some noble self-sacrificing big sister anymore. She was a fucking leech. Sucking her sister’s energy and her positivity, consuming it for herself. She was a chain holding Oriana down, when what she truly deserved was to spread her wings and fly wherever she wanted like the free spirit she was.

Wasn’t that precisely why Miranda had denied herself the connection she craved with Ori in the first place? Wasn’t that why she had given her up? Because she knew it was the right thing to do? Because, deep down, she knew that the best thing she could do for Oriana was to ensure that she grew up completely isolated from her - so that she could become as unlike Miranda as possible?

She’d succeeded at that, at least.

Where Miranda was cynical, Oriana was optimistic. Where Miranda was closed-off and antisocial, Oriana was outgoing and friendly. Where Miranda was rigid and concrete, Oriana was creative and open-minded. Where Miranda was bitter and sarcastic, Oriana was lighthearted and funny. Where Miranda was cold, Oriana was warm. Where Miranda was dark, Oriana was light. Where Miranda lacked empathy, Oriana was sensitive, and the kindest person she knew.

They couldn’t have been more different.

And Miranda wanted it to stay that way.

None of her qualities were things she would wish upon Oriana. And, if Oriana did become more like her, Miranda wasn’t sure she could ever forgive herself.

The most loving thing Miranda could do for Oriana was just let her live her life in peace, the way she had done for her before. She really would be better off just being cut loose, without her older sister weighing her down, shackling her to the weight of despair, damage and loneliness.

So Miranda didn’t text. She deleted the message she’d started typing, and the three dots to signal that she was writing were erased. She closed the app, got up and left her desk, deciding to head home.

She didn’t see the next message her sister sent.

“Miranda? Whatever is going on with you right now, please just remember that you are my most important person. I love you more than anything. And I’m here for you whenever you need me. You do know that, don’t you?”

Miranda limped home in the dark in the rain. It was freezing. She didn’t know how late it was. She hadn’t kept her eye on the time. She dragged her weary body up the stairs. Aside from the fact that her head was killing her, parts of her body that had never hurt before were starting to feel sore, and tight, and tense.

“Hey, Miss,” Seanne greeted her when she heard her key in the door. A few of the kids were gathered together in the main lounge, watching some sort of movie on the television. “We saved dinner for you. It’s in the fridge.”

“I’ll have it later,” Miranda muttered, not hungry at all. Just tired.

“No problem,” Seanne replied, too focused on the film to pay her any mind.

Without another word, Miranda retreated to her room, and shut herself away, prepared for another night of staring at cracks in the ceiling in the darkness in a desperate attempt to ward off her dreams.

She slumped on her bed and ran her hand through her hair, staring into space.

And that was when it hit her. She didn’t...know what she was doing with her life anymore. Or why. She didn’t have a plan. A goal. For the first time since she’d reunited with Oriana, she no longer had a future she was working towards. Because that hope, that dream, had been snuffed out. A lie. A delusion.

The one thing that had made getting up every morning worth it since the shuttle crash - believing that, one day, she and Oriana would start a new life where nothing tore them apart ever again - had been exposed as a figment of her imagination.

With that dream dead, when she pictured her future now, there was...nothing.

Absence.

An empty, black abyss. Filled only by the ringing in her ear.

Miranda lay down on her bed. Curled up. And stared. And listened to that perpetual sound. And her mind, like her future, was blank. She watched the time tick by on the clock. Barely even registering it in her fatigue.

One hour.

Two hours.

What was the point of anything anymore?

What was the fucking point?

Three hours.

Four hours.

It was after midnight when she was disturbed from her near-catatonic state by an urgent knocking at the front door. It came once, such a strange and unexpected sound that, at first, she wondered if it was just a trick of her mind. But then it came again, even more insistent.

Reluctantly, Miranda dragged herself out of bed and shuffled into the entryway, not even bothering to grab her cane. She saw the door to one of the students’ bedrooms was open. Jason was leaning out, as if to go investigate.

“I’ve got it,” said Miranda with a dismissive wave as she limped to the door, assuming it was probably for her. “Go back to sleep.”

Jason gave her a nod, but lingered in the doorway, just in case.

The frantic knocking came again. With an annoyed grunt, Miranda undid the lock, wondering who the hell was bothering them at that ungodly hour.

“Jesus Christ, what is it--?” The words caught in Miranda’s throat the second she flung the door open. Her weary eye flickered wide awake. “Samara?”

* * *

Miranda stepped over snoring bodies and discarded glasses on the floor, not keen to wake anyone up when half the crew were spread out at various points on the spectrum between ‘fast asleep’ and ‘passed out drunk’, and all of whom were likely to be very cranky if awoken. Miranda hadn’t drunk as much as most of the others, and neither was she prone to going to bed early.

Indeed, she was very much awake, not even close to tired. And it was not her idea of a fun end to the night to hang around being as quiet as a mouse, forced to pretend to doze off because everyone else was such a goddamn lightweight.

With that in mind, Miranda crept over near the door to where Shepard kept her keys, pinching them for herself so she could let herself back into the apartment. Shepard wasn’t going to miss them. She and Liara had gone to bed some time ago for very obvious reasons. They wouldn’t be seen again until morning.

However, Miranda’s cunning plan was not one concocted purely for herself. A thought had occurred to her while she waited for everyone else to nod off, being that there was one other person she expected might be awake. Someone who, by all appearances, had not been a drinker for centuries. Someone who Miranda was eager to spend a lot more time with one-on-one, particularly given that it was not lost on her that this might well be the last opportunity they ever had to do so - the last time they might ever see one another.

Sure enough, she found that very person meditating under the stairs.

“Samara,” Miranda whispered just loud enough to be heard. Blue eyes opened, and shifted her way. “Can’t sleep?” Samara did not respond verbally, but let her current state speak for itself. “Me neither.” At that, Miranda held up Shepard’s keys and made a signal towards the door. “Feel like going out?”

Samara glanced at her slumbering companions scattered over the lounge. After a moment, she held a finger to her lips, and silently stood.

Taking that as acceptance of her invitation, Miranda stealthily snuck over to the door, and held it open for Samara. She closed it behind them as quietly as she could. There was a faint ‘click’ as it automatically locked.

“Do not mistake my surprise for protestation, for it is not, but...to what do I owe this?” Samara asked, once they were safely out of earshot of the others. Evidently she had not been anticipating this - that Miranda would seek her out.

“What, did you really think I’d just forget about you after a single conversation?” Miranda rhetorically remarked. “I told you I missed you more than anyone else.”

Samara allowed herself a small smile, touched by her intentions. “You did.”

“Since you and I are both still awake, and I have way too much energy to sleep, I figured, hey, the Strip is right here, and nothing ever closes - let’s go enjoy it while we can,” Miranda offered, circling Shepard’s keys around her finger before slipping them into a discreet pocket. “Nobody will even notice we’re missing.”

“No, they certainly will not,” Samara concurred, clearly not regretting her temperance when it was apparent most of the crew would be nursing hangovers come morning. “I must admit, given I saw you partaking earlier, I did not expect you to be in such a better state compared to our other comrades.”

“Good genes, plus I know how to pace myself,” Miranda casually explained. She gestured for Samara to follow her. “Come on. Let’s go be stupid for a while.”

Samara suppressed a chuckle. “An enticing prospect. Very well. Lead the way.”

“I was planning on taking you back to my favourite sushi place - you know, the one we went to before. Unfortunately, it’s not open right now.” Miranda sighed, putting a hand on her hip. “There was an incident. Shepard was involved.”

“I see. That is unfortunate,” Samara commiserated, needing no further explanation as to what had happened. For as much as they both loved Shepard, it was no hyperbole to say that trouble followed her everywhere.

Ultimately, Miranda didn’t have a preference as to where they went, or what they did. This entire venture was little more than a flimsy excuse to spend time with Samara without anybody else interfering. A throwback to those intimate moments on the Starboard Observation Deck, and a means of paying her back for all her kindness, assuming Miranda succeeded in showing her a good time.

“There is the casino,” Miranda thought out loud. She’d been there before, and didn’t mind the atmosphere of the place. Plus another drink or two wouldn’t go amiss to kick things off - she was still a fair few away from her limit.

“After you,” Samara gestured for her to go ahead, trailing in Miranda’s footsteps. A reverse of the last time they had visited the Citadel together.

Unlike the Presidium, the Wards didn’t operate on artificial day and night cycles. Virtually everything on the Citadel stayed open at all hours, with everyone resting and working shifts according to their own personal needs and wants. Thus, when they came to the casino, to nobody’s shock, it was still as busy as ever.

The people here had been affected by the war, of course, but there was a sense of safety and security that existed nowhere else. As all the homeworlds fell, the Citadel stood strong as the heart of Council Space - the one place most species would unite to protect. If anywhere would survive the war, this was surely it.

“Can I get you anything? The food here’s not bad, if you’re hungry,” Miranda offered as they both made their way up to the bar.

“Just water, thank you,” said Samara. Miranda ordered something much stronger for herself, and the bartender filled up their respective glasses.

“So, how have you been, Samara? Really?” Miranda asked, keen to make up for lost time. Now that they were alone, they were free to talk as long as they wanted, which was something they couldn’t really do at the party. That was precisely her intent in sneaking out like this. It would be several hours at least before anybody else woke up and wondered where they were. The Silver Coast Casino was no Starboard Observation Deck, but it would serve well enough.

“That is a...complicated question,” Samara acknowledged, still a little caught off guard by Miranda’s genuine eagerness to catch up with her, as if she hadn’t expected to warrant her attention. “Some days have been kind to me. Others have not. Many somewhere in between. I imagine you could say the same.”

“Most of my days have ranged between terrible and awful since I left. I’m glad you had some good ones.” Miranda took a sip of her drink.

“Forgive me. I am aware this past year must have been difficult for you.” Samara bowed her head, as if she had misspoken. “As a Justicar, I am not unfamiliar with the peril of knowing there are many people who would seek to have me killed, nor am I a stranger to looking over my shoulder expecting to see a gun each time I turn my head. Although, by the same token, my status affords me many privileges. Many asari will lend me aid or support without question, for no other reason than because they see my armour, and know what I am. You do not have that luxury.”

“No, sadly,” Miranda confirmed. Hiding like a cockroach in parts of the Citadel not fit for human habitation had not been fun. Having any allies she could have safely turned to, beyond her few limited contacts with Shepard, would have made a world of difference. “But I’m out in the open now. If anybody still wanted me dead, I would have been executed days ago. I think it’s safe to say what little is left of Cerberus no longer sees the point in targeting me.”

“I hope you are correct.” Samara instinctively cast her eyes about the place as she said that, scanning for signs of any suspicious activity. Miranda picked up on that, of course. “If it would be safer--”

“Samara, seriously. It’s fine. You can let your guard down. You don’t need to be on alert. Not for my sake,” Miranda assured her, reaching out to touch her hand to make sure she understood that. Nobody was hunting her anymore.

“If you are certain…” Samara took her at her word, despite a hint of hesitancy.

“Yes. Relax. I insist. If you don’t, it somewhat defeats the whole purpose of going out,” Miranda pointed out. At that, Samara seemed to concede she was right. Being paranoid would only spoil their time together. “Enough talk of serious subjects. Have you kept up reading human literature?”

“When I have been able, yes. Although, I must confess, I did not have such access when I was travelling in asari space. The Citadel libraries have been a source of great assistance. Tell me, I must know, was this ‘King Arthur’ a real person?” As soon as she asked, Samara just as swiftly changed her mind. “No, no. On second thought, I would prefer you do not answer. I fear I would be disappointed.”

Miranda laughed, endeared by Samara’s odd, childlike fascination with such figures. If it wouldn’t have sounded so patronising to describe a woman in her mid-to-late 900s as ‘adorable’, that label definitely would have applied.

“Oh. That reminds me. Kurosawa,” said Miranda. Samara tilted her head in questioning, not sure what that meant. “Not an author, but a director. I’ve been told, if you’re interested in samurai media, his films are the place to start.”

“I see. Thank you.” Samara nodded, taking that recommendation on board.

“What is it with you and this sort of thing anyway?” Miranda decided to finally broach the question that she had been wondering for a while, earning a curious glance. “Knights. Samurai. Why are you so interested in them?”

Samara did a poor job concealing a grin. “Yes, why would I, a lone wanderer who adheres to a strict moral code and seeks to bring justice to the places she visits, see any appeal whatsoever in stories about virtuous, heroic wanderers who adhere to strict moral codes and seek to bring justice to the places they visit?”

Miranda couldn’t argue with that logic. “I withdraw the question.”

“You did not withdraw it. I answered it,” Samara corrected.

“No, no. I withdrew it,” Miranda maintained in jest, as if she had come to that conclusion entirely on her own, without any assistance. Samara affectionately shook her head. During that pause in the conversation, the song changed. “You know, I saw you dancing before,” Miranda said with a smirk, indicating the dancefloor. “I’m glad you listened to me about enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I did. However, if I remember correctly, you once stated to me that you would dance when I danced,” Samara reminded her. Miranda raised her eyebrows and took a drink, averting her gaze. She’d really hoped Samara had forgotten that conversation. “And yet you did not join me. How perplexing.”

“Oh, so you haven’t noticed that I’m a pathological liar until just now. Good to know,” Miranda joked, toying with the stem of her glass as she placed it down.

“You must be. You keep insisting to me that you are not funny, even though you clearly are,” Samara cleverly countered, a glimmer of mirth in her kind eyes.

“I--” Miranda stopped before she could retort, taken aback by that comment. Nobody had told her that before. Nobody thought she was funny, because she wasn’t. According to everyone else, she was just mean and sarcastic and unpleasant to be around. Eventually, Miranda awkwardly rubbed the back of her head, managing to mumble a response. “I think you have a very different definition of ‘funny’ than everyone else in the galaxy, but...if you say so.”

It didn’t seem lost on Samara just how much that compliment actually meant to her. But she didn’t harp on it, letting it stand unchallenged. “There is still time for you to keep your promise to me before we part ways,” Samara pressed and, though her tone was lighthearted, it was evident the offer was genuine. “After all, there is a dancefloor here, and I am finding this music rather persuasive...”

“Still time for me to continue breaking my promise forever, you mean? Yes. I intend to. Glad we’re in agreement,” Miranda remarked. Samara’s enquiring gaze didn’t shift. “...Okay so I did dance at Shepard’s tonight, just a little bit.” Miranda reluctantly held her thumb and forefinger slightly apart.

“Good. I am delighted to hear it,” Samara enthused, pleased to see that Miranda had heeded her own advice and let herself go, and allowed herself to have some fun at the party. “My only regret is that I did not witness it.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Miranda assured her. “But I fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

“No, you did not. This imbalance must be rectified immediately,” Samara persisted, getting up from her seat and extending her hand. Miranda did not accept the invitation, quite intent on not moving anytime soon. “You made a promise to me, Miranda Lawson. As a Justicar, I must insist that you keep your word. You said you would dance when I danced, and I am going to dance. Hence...”

“No. You knock yourself out, but I am very comfortable on my stool.” Miranda shook her head, waving Samara off, making her stance plain.

“Then hand me the keys, and I will return to the apartment,” said Samara.

That got Miranda’s attention. “What?”

“You were the one who said, and I quote, ‘let us go and be stupid for a while’, and it was you who suggested we both sneak out after midnight for this purpose,” Samara noted. “That was the evening that was represented to me - one spent in inane, ridiculous frivolity. Yet, so far, you are being extremely sensible. If you are not going to do this with me, then I fear I have in fact been misled.”

Miranda saw right through Samara’s feigned disappointment. “You’re evil.”

“In this moment, perhaps,” Samara conceded, but she still extended her hand.

“This is peer pressure,” Miranda complained.

“Yes, it is,” Samara confirmed, without shame, her mischievous smile widening.

Miranda sighed, but it was hard not to be uplifted purely from seeing Samara this outgoing and cheerful. That was a rare privilege. The last time she’d seen her like this was...well, the last time they visited the Citadel together, which must have been around nine or ten months ago by that point.

“You’re in an abnormally good mood tonight, aren’t you?” Miranda observed, certainly not complaining, but wondering what had made her so upbeat.

“Why would I not be?” Samara asked plainly. “I am with you.”

Miranda’s heart skipped a beat. Honestly, Miranda was so thoroughly charmed by that response that Samara could have asked her to do anything in that moment, no matter how embarrassing, and she would have been powerless to resist.

“...If you’re trying to butter me up to get me to dance with you...good strategy, because it’s working,” Miranda admitted defeat, seeing no point in even pretending to warn her otherwise. No doubt Samara could tell the warmth in her cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Samara was evidently entertained by that reaction, but equally quick to dismiss any notion that her words were coming from an insincere place. “It is not falsity. The time you and I spent together aboard The Normandy was the most I have enjoyed myself in many years. Longer than you can possibly imagine.”

“Oh, wow, that's depressing,” said Miranda. “Because I am not fun at all.”

“Neither am I. Perhaps this explains it,” Samara quipped.

Miranda didn’t agree with that, but that wasn’t the point. “You’re not dropping this are you?” she deduced, realising she didn’t have a choice in this.

“I am afraid I cannot,” Samara confirmed, as if the decision was out of her hands. “Just as you have sensed that I am in a good mood, I have also been astounded by the change in you tonight. I have never seen you so unshackled from your burdens as you are now. So, if we are ever going to keep our promise and share a dance together, I fear this will be our only opportunity. We may not get another. And I cannot abide a broken promise,” she pointed out.

She wasn’t wrong. Tomorrows weren’t exactly guaranteed.

“Well, you bloody got me, alright? Now that you’ve accused me of being good company, I feel compelled to live up to the hype.” With that, Miranda threw back her head and downed her drink, determined to be ‘fun’ for once in her life. “You get one song.” She held up one finger. “And only because it’s you.”

“One song will suffice,” said Samara, taking Miranda by the hand at long last, leading her to the dancefloor. That was all she had been promised.

Maybe it was just the drinks talking, but as she let go of her inhibitions, started moving to the music and surrendered to not caring whether she looked stupid, Miranda found herself having a far better time than she would have thought.

Most of all, the best thing about it was getting to see Samara let go of her usual restraint, and glean a rare escape from the harsh and austere lifestyle that she was required to abide by as a Justicar. It went without saying how much she deserved this reprieve. Not merely to have fun and enjoy the evening, but to have a chance to let her walls down and be herself. Her real self, beneath the armour. Just one fleeting night in however many centuries, free of worries or cares.

If Miranda could give her that, then making a fool of herself would all be worth it.

Miranda didn’t know what had suddenly made Samara so open to things like this she would have politely declined a year ago, aside from the same ‘carpe diem’ reason that applied to everyone at the moment, nor did it really matter. The point was that they were here and they were doing it while they could. And any time spent with Samara, no matter what they were doing, was never time wasted.

One song turned into two. And two into three.

In truth, because the music all blended together with similar rhythms and chord progressions, it was hard to tell where one track began and another ended. And, for the first time, Miranda began to understand that perhaps that was the whole point. It would have been pretty jarring and moment-ruining to have the flow disturbed by each new song. So, for now, she stopped being critical of that.

It was as the music changed to a fourth song that they were rudely interrupted.

“Heyyyyy, ladies,” a complete stranger wandered up to them, making finger guns and clicking his tongue. “Can I be the meat in your sandwich?”

Miranda gave the man an unimpressed look. “Mate, if that line ever actually works on a woman...she deserves you,” she said, earning a confused expression in response as the insult went over his head.

“...Is that a no?” he asked, clueless.

“Yeah, look, I’m in a good mood, so just save yourself some embarrassment and…” Miranda signalled for him to walk away, not particularly keen on wasting time and effort verbally destroying him when she would rather not bother.

To his credit, he took that rejection without a fight and left without causing a scene.

“Sorry about that.” Miranda turned to Samara. Unwanted male attention was something that happened to her a lot, so she was used to dealing with it.

Samara seemed more perplexed than perturbed. “He made this gesture.” Samara somewhat awkwardly mimicked his finger guns, as if she’d never seen anyone do that before. “...I assume I should not interpret that as a threat.”

Miranda blinked. Then, as soon as it clicked that Samara was in fact joking, cracked up with laughter. She’d never forgotten how funny Samara could be, but that sneaky delivery of hers still took her by surprise when it came out.

“Why are you laughing? We may be in grave danger,” Samara feigned ignorance.

“Alright. That’s it. That was the last song,” Miranda declared, taking that disruption as their cue to leave. “Since neither of us are gamblers, I think we’ve seen as much as there is to see of the casino. We should move on.”

“Where should we go next?” Samara prompted, letting Miranda take the lead.

“Hmm.” Miranda pondered that. What she would ordinarily do versus what Samara would expect of her on a night devoted to frivolity were two very different things. Fortunately, the Strip did serve the latter quite well. “There's an arcade not far from here. Did you know I've literally never been to one?”

Samara looked rather impressed with that suggestion, given that it was entirely out of step with Miranda’s usual character, and hence very much in keeping with the evening of inane silliness she had been promised. “I believe you humans have a saying that 'there is a first time for everything'.”

“Alright. Arcade it is.”

It certainly wasn’t far to get there. And Miranda wasn’t kidding when she said she had never had the simple pleasure of playing these games in her childhood. Or any games. She had been deprived of anything resembling fun growing up.

That being said, the lightgun game came pretty naturally to her, even if Miranda did maintain the only reason she didn’t score higher was because the controller was a shitty piece of plastic and the sensor must have been broken. If Samara thought otherwise, she just smiled and didn’t correct her.

By contrast, Samara definitely did recognise some of these games from her youth.

“You’re telling me that some of these machines basically haven’t changed at all in nine hundred years?” said Miranda, arching a sceptical eyebrow.

“No, they have not,” Samara happily confirmed, an audible tinge of excitement colouring her voice at the prospect of coming across something familiar.

Miranda snorted. So much for creativity.

“Oh. This. I remember this.” Samara went over to a particularly old-fashioned machine in the corner. ‘Whack The Thresher Maw’. “It was not thresher maws when I played it. I do not recall what it was. But I was very little. I could not have been more than...twelve? I remember vividly; it was shortly before my father left Thessia to come live here on the Citadel. That was the only day I spent together with both my mother and father - the only day that they ever both took me out together,” she spoke softly, nostalgic for that fond memory.

Miranda’s eyes twinkled as she stood by her, listening to Samara reminisce about her past. She said nothing as she waived her credit chit over the machine, spurring it to life. When Samara glanced at her in questioning, she leaned against the wall, and gestured for Samara to go ahead and play. And she did.

The next game they played was a version of what Miranda would have called air hockey, using a virtual puck. Miranda was winning up until Samara cheated, using her biotics to subtly move Miranda’s wrist away from the goal.

“I would never cheat,” Samara professed, not even trying to conceal her guilt.

“Mhmm.” Miranda fixed her with a knowing look. Two could play at that game. The very next round, she used her own biotics to move the table right when Samara least expected it, allowing her to get her goal back. “I would never cheat,” Miranda echoed back to her, mirroring Samara’s false innocent voice.

“Hey!” At that, one of the arcade workers pointed at a sign behind the counter which clearly stated ‘no biotics’, giving them no further warning than that.

Keeping track of the scores kind of went out the window when they could hardly make it through the next few rounds without cracking up. They called it a draw and gave up before they did something that got them both banned for life.

They moved on. The next thing that caught Samara’s eye was the claw machine.

“I used to be very good at these,” Samara noted, examining it.

“Really? I thought they were all rigged.”

“No, not at all. Certainly made to be difficult, yes. But if you could not win, that would be illegal. There is a skill to it,” Samara explained. Miranda gestured for her to go right ahead and show her. “I have no money,” Samara pointed out. “And I could not keep the prize even if I won.”

Miranda sighed. “...Just because I’m doing this doesn’t mean I don’t know this is a waste of money on the same level as gambling,” she said, making it clear that nobody was to know she had done this. She put credits into the machine.

Samara appraised the prize spheres to see which would be the easiest to grab. “Aim for that one,” she advised, indicating a sphere that was higher up than the others. “It may take more than one attempt, but if you line it up correctly…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it,” Miranda waved off her backseat driving, still sceptical that it was even possible to win.

The first time, she didn’t get it at quite the right angle, and the claw slipped off. The second time, she was sure she lined it up properly, but the claws snapped shut above the prize sphere, without picking it up, like the prize was too heavy.

“See? The machine is rigged,” Miranda insisted. “It’s not possible.”

“You are very close. And you have one play left,” Samara encouraged. Miranda rolled her eyes, reluctantly deciding she may as well use the game she had already paid for. “Try coming at it slightly more from the left.”

Miranda did as Samara suggested, and this time, the claw grabbed it. She blinked as the claw lifted the prize and took it all the way to the chute. “Huh.”

“I believe the appropriate phrase is ‘I told you so’,” Samara teased.

“Alright, alright. No need to get cocky,” said Miranda, opening up the prize sphere to see what she’d won. It was a keychain in the shape of Blasto the Hanar Spectre. She uttered a tssk. “I’ve never seen any of these movies. They look like rubbish.”

“Sometimes, that is precisely the appeal,” Samara advised. Miranda didn’t share the sentiment. “I think that triumph signals that we have overstayed our welcome here,” said Samara, aware they were still being watched by the same employee from before in case they cheated again. “Where to next?”

“Hmm.” Miranda glanced around as they left the arcade, thinking of options.

“There is a combat simulator here, is there not?” Samara piped up, as if she’d been holding onto that idea for a while. “I would be eager to try that.”

“By all means. Though what people find fun about a laser arena is somewhat lost on me,” Miranda remarked, probably because her father had subjected her to similar combat programs when she was a kid. “It just feels like training.”

“Its intent is to recreate something we experience as a regular part of our lives. It is fun for them because it is unfamiliar. For us, it is not a deviation from the norm, save that for once we have the liberty of not being in any actual peril,” Samara astutely observed. She had a point, Miranda thought. It wasn’t the most relaxing pastime, but Miranda could run combat sims in her sleep. She had no problems teaming up with her if that was what Samara wanted to do.

“Okay, that absolutely was rigged,” Miranda loudly complained as they emerged from the combat arena a while later. “I hit that soldier dead between the eyes, and he still had twenty percent health left? That's nonsense. No human being could possibly survive that,” she argued, gesturing as she spoke.

“We still did extremely well,” Samara pointed out, content with their performance.

“If this program was realistic, my name would be on top right now,” Miranda proclaimed, waving her hand towards the scoreboard. She was nothing if not competitive, when she wanted to be anyway. Her rant was interrupted when Samara uttered a quiet, amused chuckle. It was impossible not to soften, seeing the unfeigned affection shimmering in Samara’s gaze. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Samara shook her head, her smile reaching her eyes. “I simply...I did not forget how much I missed spending time with you, but...in a way, I forgot just how much I missed spending time with you,” Samara acknowledged, well aware of the contradiction in her own words, but unable to say it another way.

Miranda knew exactly what she meant. Memories of the Starboard Observation Deck were no substitute for the real thing. They didn’t do justice to just how at home she felt in Samara’s company. “Yeah. Me too.”

“And do not think I did not notice,” said Samara, a very proud look coming over her. Miranda tilted her head in questioning. “Reave. You mastered it,” Samara clarified, somehow wholly unsurprised to witness that.

“Oh. Right. That.” Miranda brushed that off. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Do not undersell yourself. It is not an easy feat,” Samara told her, not about to let this go unremarked upon. “Well done, Miranda. You are the first, and I suspect only human ever to learn this ability. And it would be a great achievement even if you were asari. Indeed, I have personally never met anyone, other than some fellow Justicars, who have mastered it.”

“Well, I owe that entirely to you. So here. Present for you.” Miranda held out the Blasto The Hanar Spectre keychain she'd won from the claw machine earlier, as a token of her appreciation for Samara’s teachings a year ago.

Samara smiled, politely raising her hand to decline. “Although I am grateful, I am afraid I cannot accept this; Justicars eschew personal possessions.”

Miranda's brow crinkled, looking down at the stupid thing in her hands in abject incredulity. “...It's a keychain.”

“That is not the point,” Samara reminded her, although clearly not at all shocked or offended why someone who had not chosen a religious life might fail to understand this. The fact that the gift had no material value did not make it any less of an indulgence. “I have sworn an oath to the Goddess. I can own nothing but what you see before you - my weapons and my armour - for that is all that is essential for me to carry out my duties as a Justicar.”

“Alright. Allow me to rephrase,” Miranda began, sensing a solution to this issue. “This is a...tactical keychain,” she informed her, arching an eyebrow as she twirled the chain around her finger. “It provides an entire additional square inch of armour plating. So I insist that you take it for your own protection.”

Samara laughed, more freely than Miranda had ever seen her do so. “There is that sense of humour you maintain you do not have again,” Samara wryly commented. “I will never comprehend why you insist on claiming that you are not funny.”

“Because I'm not.” Miranda shrugged, wearing a small, self-deprecating smile. “You also described yourself as ‘terribly dull’ earlier when you’re by far the most captivating person I’ve ever spoken to, so if we’re going to start this debate right now, then I’m pretty sure I’m going to win.”

“You would not be a stranger to that, would you?” Samara sighed, realising Miranda would not relent from her position. “Very well, then. You have convinced me.” She took the keychain, clasping it in her fingers. “Make no mistake, this is still yours,” she said, pointedly. “However, I will hold this in safekeeping on your behalf. And I will return it to you the next time we meet.”

“See? Was that so hard?” said Miranda, glad they'd reached a compromise.

Samara tried not to smile, because it was evident that she knew she was technically stretching the rules by accepting this gift, even on loan (though Miranda naturally assumed that she was kidding about intending to return it later), but despite her intentions she couldn't really fight it off. Not tonight.

“If you do not mind my asking, I know what your plans for the future are in the long term, but what of the short term?” Samara asked her, curious to know where Miranda would go when she left the Citadel.

“What else is there to do but get ready for whenever Shepard needs us?” said Miranda, leaning against a nearby railing overlooking a lower section of the strip. “I’ve taken command of a small ship and started putting together a team of Cerberus defectors. So, whatever happens, I’ll be there.” She looked over at Samara. “I suppose I don’t need to ask you, but...what about you?”

“I am as I am,” Samara answered, confirming Miranda’s assumptions. “When the day comes, I will walk into the fire, alone, with nothing but what you see before you, and fight to my last breath. And, should I die, I can only pray that my final acts honour the memory of all the Justicars who perished before me.”

“...I don’t see how they wouldn’t,” Miranda said softly. “I mean, you’re you.”

Samara didn’t respond to that. “Miranda, I...” Samara hesitated. Her expression was unsettled, but she swallowed, quickly finding an equilibrium and settling on what she intended to say. “Though I imagine we will be fighting on the same battlefield in the near future, it has not eluded me that we may not get a chance to speak like this before that time comes to pass. Or...ever again.”

“I know,” Miranda admitted, glancing down. The same thought had been swirling in her head even before Shepard’s party. She wasn't sure if they were meant to address that, or if that looming spectre of death was an open secret they weren't supposed to confront, but she was glad Samara had raised it. The problem was, there were too many things she wanted to say if this was going to be the last conversation they ever had. Thoughts she hadn’t even put into words in her mind, and could never fully express. “...I really am sorry about Rila,” was where Miranda chose to begin. It would have felt wrong not to tell her that.

Samara swallowed and nodded her head, trying to stay strong. Then her resolve cracked, and the tears came. Her hands went to her face, unable to stem the tide. Even the strongest woman in the universe could only carry so much.

For a split-second, Miranda thought she had made a mistake bringing this up, seeing how much Samara was hurting over her recent loss. But then it occurred to her. Maybe Samara breaking down in front of her didn’t mean she’d done anything wrong. Maybe it showed just how much she needed this moment of connection with someone she trusted - to allow herself the vulnerability to be hurt.

Had anyone even comforted Samara at all since it happened?

Had anyone given her the chance to grieve for her daughter?

“I did everything I could to save her. Even though I should not have. Even knowing it might mean putting myself in the position of choosing between my children and The Code. Even while the rest of my Order gave their lives to save so many on Thessia.” Samara drew a deep breath, but it wound up shallower than she intended in her sorrow. “...I violated one of my Oaths, Miranda.”

“What do you mean?” Miranda asked, not knowing enough about the Justicars to understand what that meant. “You mean you broke The Code?”

“No. No, I would never...never break The Code. Not while I draw breath,” Samara insisted, making that clear, even through her tears. “But the first step to becoming a Justicar is to take the Oath of Solitude. That means you are forsworn from any family, including children. I did not utter a single word to Falere or Rila in four hundred and thirty-one years, save for when I wrote to them a year ago to let them know Mirala was dead. However, when I heard their monastery may be under threat...I did not go to them as a Justicar.” Her breath hitched as the moisture trickled down her cheeks. “I went to them because I am their mother.”

“Of course you did,” said Miranda, feeling nothing but sympathy for her, and a touch of anger towards the Justicars for subjecting Samara to that dilemma in the first place. For depriving her of the shattered, broken remnants of a family she had left, and making her feel ashamed for protecting her daughters from certain death. “There’s no oath in the universe anyone could swear that would make a mother stop loving her children. Not a mother like you.”

“No, there is not,” Samara confirmed, her voice breaking under the strain as her body was racked by another sob. “I saw so little of Rila before she died, but what I saw...I could not be prouder of the woman she became, in spite of the cruel hand fate dealt her. I always knew her to be the most responsible of my daughters, always taking care of her younger sisters, though she was barely any older than they were. But she was so strong, Miranda. I never knew she was so fearless. So ferociously protective. She gave her own life so that Falere could live.”

“And you,” Miranda added. “So that you could live too.”

Samara didn’t reply to that.

“How’s Falere?” Miranda asked, after Samara didn’t respond.

“She is well. Alone, but well.” Samara glanced down at her hands, her tears beginning to dry on her cheeks. “She was always a gentle and sensitive soul, so much like her fath--” Samara’s voice caught on that word. She couldn’t say it. It hurt to speak of her. “The woman she has grown into...she is so much kinder than I could possibly have imagined. She had not seen my face or heard my voice for four hundred and thirty-one years. She had every right to hate me. But, instead, she...when all was said and done, she embraced me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” said Miranda, thinking that should have gone without saying. “She’s your daughter. She loves you.”

“That is more than I deserve.” Samara’s voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Miranda couldn’t stand to hear her talk about herself that way. “Samara--”

Samara raised a hand to silence her. “Respectfully, Miranda...It is no fault of yours, but there are some things that are beyond even your understanding. I believe this is one of them. I would prefer not to argue with you.”

Miranda sighed. She hated to admit it, but Samara had a point. If she felt that way, it wasn’t like it was a poorly-considered opinion. She had lived her own life for nearly a thousand years, and the disconnect between Samara and Falere had been there for centuries. It wasn’t Miranda’s place to debate with her about her perception of herself, or where she stood with Falere, much as she wanted to.

“...But you weren’t lying before, right?” Miranda pressed, unable to leave that thought alone. When Samara said things like this, it made her worry about her. “You are going to keep seeing Falere, aren’t you?”

“My Oaths say I should not,” Samara acknowledged.

“But you will,” Miranda intuited.

Samara held back the last of her tears, the first signs of a conflicted, broken smile coming to her lips. “I have no choice. In truth, there is no power in the universe, nor within myself, that could force me to stay away,” she said honestly, recognising she did not have the willpower to resist seeing her daughter again, especially knowing Falere had nobody else to look after her.

“Good,” Miranda forcefully enthused. For as much as she respected Samara, she might have had to slap some sense into her if she said otherwise. “No offence, and I know this is easy for me to say because I don’t have a single religious or spiritual bone in my body, but any oath that would compel you to stay away from the one person in your life who makes you happy isn’t an oath worth keeping. For me, that person is my sister. For you, that person is Falere.”

At long last, Samara allowed herself to smile again, her eyes glistening from her tears, but shedding no more. “She is.” Her voice was soft, perhaps even fragile, but Miranda had never heard it filled with so much tenderness. “I should not permit myself to feel this way, but...if you thought you perceived a change in me tonight, Miranda, you did,” she admitted. “Though losing Rila broke my heart, and my wounds for her will bleed until my dying days...even so, I have never felt more at peace than I do at this moment. Or, if I have, then I cannot remember it.”

Miranda could only imagine. In her own life, she had gone without seeing Oriana for nineteen years. And, the moment they met on Illium, it was like a weight she hadn’t even known she was carrying had been lifted off her shoulders. That was nothing compared to what Samara had endured.

Going four hundred and thirty-one years not seeing her daughters, the people who mattered most to her...it must have been torture. Now, that torment had finally stopped. Even though Rila hadn’t lived long enough to be part of this new reunion, Samara had still regained a connection with Falere she never thought she would have again. She had some semblance of her family back.

That was life-changing.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Miranda said sincerely. After everything she’d lost, Samara had more than earned her just reward. "And, for what it’s worth, I hope this is merely the start of newer and brighter things for you and Falere.”

After recollecting her composure, Samara faced her. “Thank you, Miranda.”

Miranda was not anticipating that shift in focus. “For what?”

“For this. For tonight,” Samara clarified, gesturing at their surroundings. “For allowing me to enjoy myself more than I have in centuries. And for reminding me to savour these effervescent glimmers of happiness while I still can.” She paused for a moment, averting her gaze down towards her hands on the railing. “I think, perhaps, on some level, you sensed I needed this. But perhaps you do not appreciate just how much I did. So, again, I thank you for spending your night in the company of this poor, tired old woman, when it was not required of you.”

Miranda hesitated at that. Of course, it meant a lot for Samara to tell her that she had gotten so much out of their time together, and that it had helped her in some way. But Miranda never liked it when Samara made those resigned, self-defeating comments about herself. They made her sound like some washed up, retired old racehorse about to be put down with two barrels behind the garden shed. And that was the furthest thing from reality.

Samara was amazing. Beyond compare. She had not lost a step. Aside from being a matriarch and continuing to get stronger with every passing year, she did not show a single sign of age. It certainly hadn’t hindered her yet, and probably would not for many decades yet to come. Asari regularly lived to be over a thousand years old. Hell, although hitting eleven-hundred was rare by most accounts, even that wouldn’t be unheard of. Not by a long shot.

Not that Miranda was an expert, but just from knowing her, she would guess Samara was still a long way off from the natural end of her life. About as far off as any of the human members of The Normandy. So why did she so often talk about herself like she was past the point where she had anything of worth left to offer - a broken relic of a bygone age to be carelessly discarded and cast aside?

Did she think Miranda was just doing this because she felt sorry for her?

“...I didn’t invite you out with me because I pity you,” Miranda broke the silence, glancing over at Samara. That had never been what this was, and she would correct any such mistaken assumptions as promptly and frankly as possible, so that there was no chance for misinterpretation. “I wanted to spend time with you because I like you, and I care about you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Samara confirmed, returning Miranda’s gaze. “And I hope you know that I did not spend time with you because I was merely seeking some distraction from what has come to pass in recent weeks.”

“I do,” Miranda replied in kind. She folded her arms across the railing, seeing no reason not to continue being so transparent. “This probably isn’t going to be a shock to you, because there aren’t exactly a lot of contenders for the title, but did you know you might very well be the best friend I’ve ever had?”

Jacob may have been her friend for longer, sure, but they butted heads a lot, often on pretty fundamental things. There were some things she hadn’t told him, and may never tell him. Some things she couldn’t go to him about. Whereas Samara just...knew her so intimately. She got her on an entirely different level. One that didn’t even require words, a lot of the time.

Samara’s eyes dipped slightly. “It...occurred to me, some time ago, in fact, that...I could possibly say the same thing about you,” she replied. Miranda was taken aback by that, and it must have shown on her face. “You doubt me, but you have a stronger claim to that position than you know.”

Miranda brushed that off, finding it too hard to believe. Samara had been alive for over nine centuries. She’d definitely had better friends. “You’re just being nice.”

Samara squinted at that comment, visibly perplexed. “I do not know where you have garnered this impression that I am ‘nice’, or would say things I do not mean just to be thus. I can assure you, I have never at any stage of my life been renowned for being particularly ‘nice’ to anybody. Quite the contrary,” Samara assured her, wanting to clear up that mischaracterisation. “I mean no offence, but...in that regard, you and I are more alike than you seem to think.”

“None taken,” Miranda nonchalantly replied. She supposed she understood where Samara was coming from by not accepting that description. If anyone tried to tell Miranda she was ‘just being nice’, she would have looked at them like they had grown a second head. “And I guess you do have a point. I mean, the first time I met you, you crushed a woman’s skull with your foot.”

“You would have used a gun,” Samara noted.

“Yeah, probably,” Miranda conceded. “You were always nice to me, though.”

“Not always. There were times when I challenged you. Like you, I am not prone to remaining silent when I disagree with someone. If I am less stubborn and stern than I once was, it is only because experience has humbled me, and I have spent many centuries practicing patience and mindfulness,” said Samara.

Samara wasn’t wrong about any of that, Miranda thought. Samara had indeed called her out on her bullshit a couple of times, although whenever she did offer advice she had always treated it as something constructive rather than an exercise in judgement, which was largely why it had been so effective.

“However, if despite all that you perceived me as being especially nice to you...I probably was,” Samara admitted with a small sigh, willing to concede that wasn’t misplaced. “It is easy to be nice to a person you are already fond of.”

“Why though?” Miranda couldn’t help but ask, earning a confused look. “That’s something I’ve never been able to figure out. Look, I know I’m not the most self-aware person, but I’m better than I was. And, God, I could be fucking intolerable sometimes.” Miranda grimaced in annoyance at her own memory of herself, eliciting a faint smirk from Samara. “But even at my worst, you never had a problem with me. So, why did you like spending time with me?”

“How long do we have before our absence will be noticed? Because, if I answered that question comprehensively, we would be here a very long time,” Samara stated. That was, without question, the most heartwarming thing Miranda had ever heard another person say about her. “If I am being truly honest, I have often wondered the same thing about why you chose to spend your time with me.”

“Is that a joke?” Miranda asked, not sure how Samara could even question that.

“You know very well that it is not,” Samara said astutely. She wasn’t a liar.

“Well, then, you and I remember things very differently, because you had countless things to offer me. Wisdom. Insight. Friendship. A place where I could just sit in silence for a while. You've taught me so much, but somehow you never made it feel like you were lecturing me. Even when you clearly were,” Miranda remarked, with a hint of teasing to her tone. “The only problem is that I've gained so much more out of knowing you than you have from knowing me.”

“That is not true,” Samara firmly insisted, the quickness of her response catching Miranda somewhat off guard. “The life of a Justicar is a solitary one. We meet many people, but have no companions. I had no companions. Until you. The connection we share is unlike any I have known in centuries. Or...even before that. You have enriched my life. I am better for having known you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Miranda instinctively replied. Samara was...well, she wasn’t a ‘perfect’ person per se, because they didn’t exist. But she was as close as Miranda had ever seen to one. She was a perfect version of what she strove to be. So how could Miranda make her better than she was? How could she possibly do anything to improve upon such sheer mastery of the self?

“Goddess, you do not even know…” Samara’s suddenness took Miranda by surprise. She watched as she let her fingers fall across her face, sighed deeply and shook her head, choosing her words carefully. “Forgive me. It is difficult for me to say this, but...when we travelled together, there were times where I thought…” Samara stopped herself, as if reconsidering what she intended to say. “Perhaps I did not always recognise it then, but in hindsight there were days where I do not know how I could have withstood my burdens if you were not with me.”

Miranda didn’t know what to make of that. It just...didn’t make sense. Samara was so strong. “But I didn’t do anything,” Miranda pointed out.

At that, Samara uttered a quiet sound, almost like a short, sombre laugh. “But you did,” she said, meeting Miranda’s gaze once more. “You were there. And you have shown me nothing but kindness from the moment we met.”

Miranda still couldn’t accept what she was hearing. Besides, she didn’t remember doing anything that would strike a normal person as especially compassionate, because that wasn’t who she was. “But I’m not kind,” she said.

“No, perhaps you are not,” Samara acknowledged, never blind to the person Miranda was. She was not known for being sensitive or sympathetic, for good reason. “But you were to me,” she stated plainly. That was all that mattered.

Miranda didn’t completely agree with that. But she was glad Samara thought so. And, if nothing else, it was true that Samara did make her want to try to be a better person than she was, and had brought different shades out of her in a way that nobody else had, irrespective of whether they came naturally to her.

That was the thing about people like Samara, Miranda thought. When a person had a special connection with someone else, a special relationship, then they got to know a version of them that didn’t exist for anyone else. Parts of them nobody else ever saw. Truths nobody else ever knew. So maybe the Miranda reserved for Samara's eyes only really was gentler than the one everybody else had met. But, if so, that was only because their friendship brought that out of her.

As the silence lingered, the memory of one very unkind thing she had done emerged in Miranda’s mind. It wasn’t lost on her that there was still one regret she had in their friendship. One mistake for which she’d never made amends.

It was not something she had forgotten about. She recalled with discomforting clarity how she’d never taken her numerous chances back on The Normandy to confess to Samara about looking into her past without her consent. She’d never apologised for it, though she had intended to do so, eventually. She would have done it after The Collector Base but, when the Alpha Relay was destroyed, the thought had genuinely completely fallen from her mind amid so much death. By the time she thought about it again, it was too late. They had already parted ways.

So many months had passed since all of this transpired that part of her just wanted to let sleeping dogs lie, and not raise the subject now. But Miranda knew this was the only chance she would get. If she was ever going to apologise, this was her moment. She had to take it, or live with being a coward.

“...Samara, can I say one more thing?” Miranda broke the silence.

“You may always speak freely with me, Miranda. Indeed, that you always say precisely what is on your mind is perhaps my favourite thing about you. Certainly, one of them,” Samara said with a charming twinkle in her eye.

“Okay, then.” Miranda took Samara’s encouragement at face-value, and elected to come out with it, even if it was a heavy subject. “What happened to your family wasn't your fault,” Miranda began, deciding to approach the topic from that angle. The unexpected shift in the conversation caused Samara to stiffen visibly. “And you know I'm not the sort of person who'd say something I didn't think was true purely to make you feel better, no matter how much I like you. But you didn't do anything to make that happen. None of it is your fault. None. So please stop blaming yourself for what happened four hundred years ago.”

Samara didn't seem to know how to react to Miranda’s words, as they were the last thing she had anticipated. It was obvious it was a message she struggled to accept, even after all this time. Of course, she had no idea how much Miranda knew about her past, beyond the broad picture she’d painted. Not yet.

“Has anyone ever told you that before?” Miranda asked, curious.

“...They have not,” Samara answered, no less taken aback. From prior conversations, Miranda knew she had scarcely spoken about her past. Her daughters’ diagnoses made her a pariah as soon as they happened, leaving her nobody to turn to, and Justicars did not discuss the people they were before they swore their Oaths. Samara had carried her burdens alone every day since.

“Then I'm glad I said it,” Miranda replied, already feeling a sense of relief just from stating that out loud, though she knew she was far from finished when it came to things she had to get off her chest. “I should have said it a long time ago.”

“Then may I also say something I should have said a long time ago?” Samara cut her off, speaking rather quickly. Miranda gestured for her to go right ahead. If she was being that abrupt, then it must have been important. “I wish you loved being Miranda Lawson as much as everybody else believes you love being Miranda Lawson,” Samara spoke plainly. “Because she is and has always been a far, far better person than you seem to think she is. And there is not a single thing about her that makes her a ‘failure’. It wounds me whenever you think otherwise.”

Miranda was totally blindsided. She hadn’t expected Samara’s response at all, since she would never say anything unless she truly meant it. In fact, any prior thoughts Miranda had were completely ripped from her mind.

Samara didn’t need to ask whether anybody had told Miranda that before. She knew they hadn’t. Evidently, that knowledge bothered her a great deal.

“Miranda, I...” Samara reached out and touched Miranda's arm, as if considering saying something more. She swallowed, glancing away for a moment before meeting Miranda's eyes. “I think we have been gone longer than we ought. We should return before our absence becomes a cause for concern,” she said, mustering a faint smile, sensing they had both lost track of time.

“Of course,” Miranda concurred, too dumbstruck by Samara’s confession to remember that there were words she had left unsaid. “After you.”

With that, Samara led the way back towards Shepard's apartment.

As she trailed behind her, Miranda discreetly wiped at the corner of her eye, maintaining her composure, masking any lingering signs that betrayed any frailty, and just how much Samara’s words had touched the core of something she hadn’t even known was as raw and vulnerable as it was.

It may have been a scant two hours that they’d shared there alone on the Silversun Strip, but stealing that precious time together felt like the best decision Miranda had ever made. It may have been over sooner than she would have liked but, if nothing else, at least she could look back on this night in the coming days and feel content with the way she left things between them.

She wanted to part ways with Samara on a high note. After all, deep down in her heart, Miranda knew it was the last time Samara would ever see her again.

* * *

Of all the people Miranda had expected to be banging on her door in the middle of the night, Samara was not high on that list. She hadn’t expected to see her anytime soon, given she had left only two weeks ago. And, when they eventually did meet again, Miranda hadn’t imagined Samara would look like this.

“Samara, what are you doing here? It’s freezing out, and you’re drenched--”

“I must speak with you,” Samara cut her off, her voice firm, and her eyes ablaze with a strange intensity Miranda had never seen in her before. It seemed as though Samara didn’t even feel the ice-cold rain on her. “It cannot wait.”

Judging from her tone, that wasn’t a request.

“Uh...Of course,” was all Miranda could mutter as she held open the door for her, closing it behind her. It wouldn’t have even occurred to her to say no. Not when Samara was in such a state, moving with such urgency. “In here.” Miranda gestured towards her room. Samara marched in without hesitation.

Suffice it to say, Miranda was a little stunned. What the hell was happening?

She followed her inside, and clicked the door shut. There wasn’t much space in her small room, but Samara found enough to pace back and forth. She was uncharacteristically wringing her hands as she wore wet tracks in the floor. These were things Miranda had quite literally never seen her do before.

“Samara, what is this? What’s going on?” Miranda asked.

“Forgive my intrusion. But I needed to see you. I could not...the way we left things, I…” Samara paused for a moment, meeting her gaze. “I fear that perhaps you already know what has brought me here, and what I wish to discuss.”

Miranda said nothing, too disoriented and sleep-deprived to be capable of doing anything other than staring at her in a dazed silence. She had no idea what she was talking about, or what could make her act so out-of-sorts. Miranda had never seen Samara so dishevelled. So discombobulated. So...frazzled.

“Oh. Oh, I see. You do not. I see. Very well, then. I…” At that realisation, Samara resumed her pacing, running her hand along her crest. “I suppose I shall have to start from the beginning, then. I do not know why I expected to avoid this.”

“Samara, please slow down.” Miranda raised her hand, her mind far too clouded with fog to make sense of any of this. Even just watching her march back and forth felt like running a marathon, which would have been an exhausting prospect even if she had slept in the past four days. Her request fell on deaf ears.

“Miranda, I was...I was dishonest with you the last time we spoke,” Samara began. “No, worse than dishonest. I have been deceiving you, for no other reason than because I have been too craven to admit the truth. What is worse, I fear that you have sensed my deceit, and that this is what has damaged our friendship. I cannot...I cannot abide this. I cannot continue to lie to you.”

Miranda could barely even make out what she was saying as she paced. She was speaking so quickly, and with such adamance that it felt like she might spontaneously combust from internal friction if it weren’t for the rain soaking her skin. Miranda had never seen Samara in this state. She was like a completely different person. A stranger wearing the face of someone she knew.

Samara was so restrained. So dignified. So elegant. She was a woman who had walked alone, unflinching into mortal peril thousands of times with no regard for her own life, and somehow emerged unscathed, even where countless others had fallen around her. She was the most fearless individual Miranda had ever met.

There was none of that here.

She was...overcome.

Her proverbial armour had cracked.

“Samara, respectfully, you’re a category five hurricane right now. I need you to bring it down to a stiff breeze,” said Miranda, gesturing for her to cool her frantic energy just a little bit, because right now this was impossible to follow.

At last, Samara halted, and stood still. “...Yes. Yes, of course. You have my apologies,” Samara replied, no less anxious, but at least she seemed able to recognise what an incoherent onslaught her words must have sounded like.

Miranda leaned back against the chair that was tucked into her desk, gripping it with her hand to take some weight off her bad leg. Whatever could have left Samara so shaken, it had to be serious. Nothing ever rattled her.

Except apparently this.

“What have you been lying about?” Miranda asked, that being about the only thing she had managed to make out of Samara’s hasty, jumbled rant a moment ago.

At that question, Samara held her stare, a distant expression falling across her face. “...After all this time, you truly do not suspect, do you?” she asked aloud, the realisation sinking in, as if that was a possibility she had not contemplated.

“Suspect what?” was all Miranda could say, tempted to utter a desperate laugh as she shrugged her good shoulder, not because there was anything remotely funny about this, but because she was so fucking tired, and so fucking lost.

“Why I abandoned you as I did. Why I fled this city and deserted you. Why you have been forced to contend with so much pain, suffering and death alone, when I ought to have been here to share those burdens with you, and taken care of you when you needed me by your side,” said Samara. Her voice was shaking.

Miranda softened when she heard that. Did Samara really think she was angry at her for leaving? “Samara, no.” Miranda shook her head, unconsciously gesturing with her amputated arm as if to strike that thought from history. “Of course I understand why you left. You’re a Justicar. You have your Code--”

The moment that word left her lips, Samara laughed a humourless laugh, laced with turmoil and despair. Miranda was struck mute by that. It was so unlike her.

“Oh, my sweet Miranda, you truly still believe that about me?” said Samara, her hand on her forehead, as if she couldn’t fathom what she was hearing - that even now people still trusted her at her word. “No. No, my dear, it is a fiction. A comforting lie. A shadow I hide behind.”

Miranda damn near recoiled in abject confusion. “But you are a Justicar.”

“Yes, but that is not why I acted as I did. When I turned my back on you, it had nothing to do with The Code,” Samara unburdened herself at long last, revealing a secret that had been silently killing her. “When I left, it was for one reason only. And that was because I...because I could not be here to watch you die…”

Samara’s voice cracked on the last word, and her hands covered her face as tears began to swell from beneath the surface.

Miranda was dumbfounded - rendered speechless from utter astonishment. She had only seen Samara break like this twice before. Had only seen her cry twice before. That was when she killed Morinth. And when she opened up about losing Rila. Only the deaths of her daughters affected her like this.

Samara trembled, her hand over her mouth. Her eyes shone with remorse as she met Miranda’s frozen visage across the room. “I am so sorry,” Samara told her sincerely, her words cut by the hitch of a breath. “I know my contrition means nothing, but I am so deeply, deeply sorry. I do not blame you if you despise me. You should. I know I deserve it, because the truth is that I failed you. I failed you because I am weak, and I am broken, and I could not...I could not lose you.”

Miranda’s heart tore in half when she heard that. Her head fell, and she pressed her palm to her eye, squeezing it shut. Was this why Samara thought Miranda had snapped at her the last time they spoke? Was she responsible for hurting her like this? God, she regretted that day even more now than she already had before.

“You didn’t fail me, Samara,” Miranda quietly assured her. “You saved my life.”

“That, too, was selfishness,” Samara confessed, owning up to her sins. “When the dust settled, I saw you had not returned. When I realised how close you had been to the Conduit, I went searching for you. And only for you.”

“That’s not true,” Miranda interjected, refusing to let Samara denigrate herself for what had been unparalleled heroism. “You saved dozens of lives in the wasteland.”

“Because The Code demanded I must, and my life would be forfeit if I did not. Every time I came across another survivor, I had to stop and render aid. But, though The Code compelled me to do everything in my power to rescue those in need, I tell you plainly I did not want to. I did not care about any of them. I would have abandoned every single one of them if I could,” Samara said starkly, stripping bare her truth. That revelation hit Miranda like a shockwave. It was something Miranda would have said. Not Samara. “People thought me brave, but I was not. People thought I was saving lives, but that was never my goal. My deeds should not entitle me to praise, but rather scorn, because I was selfish. I was so selfish. My only reason for going out there again and again was to find you.”

Samara swallowed. Miranda would have, but her mouth was suddenly dry.

“...And I did,” Samara continued, her features softening as she gazed upon Miranda. “You were caked in blood and dirt when I found you. So much so that I could barely recognise you. And then you...and then you stopped breathing.”

Samara took a moment to compose herself, affected by those painful memories. She drew a deep breath, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

“I did not merely believe that you would die. I knew it. I was certain of it,” Samara quietly admitted. “The infection had already reached your blood. It was shutting down your organs. There seemed to be no hope that you would survive. The only reason you were breathing was because machines were doing it for you. Your pulse was so weak. Your condition showed no signs of improving. As I sat by your bedside, I came to understand that I was doing nothing but watching your life slip away before my very eyes. Every day, you were slowly dying in front of me. And I could not endure it. I...I broke. I ran away, rather than face it.”

“But you left me that message,” Miranda pointed out, struggling to fit the puzzle pieces together in her clouded head between things she already knew, parts of the story she had been told by others, and what Samara was saying now.

“A lie,” Samara said bluntly, her voice too strained to speak louder than a whisper. “To convince myself that I had not forsaken you. That I was not hiding in the shadows from my fears. That I was merely doing as I ought to, as a Justicar. A lie that rang hollow.” Samara glanced down at her feet, ashamed of her actions. “If I truly believed that you had any chance of recovering, I tell you from my heart, I would not have left. Never. And, if I had sincerely been forced into some temporary departure by my Code as I claimed, I would have placed a much better message beside your bed for you to find when you awoke. But I did not do so. I did not do so, because I could not bear to step into your room again. I was afraid each time I went near you, it would be the moment you would…”

Samara couldn’t even finish that sentence. She didn’t have to.

Miranda didn’t interrupt her, too overwhelmed to respond.

“This is why I have returned now. To apologise for my selfishness. Not to seek your forgiveness. Just to apologise,” Samara explained, repentant for her recent failings. “You have earned nothing less than that.”

“I…” Miranda didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t...form the words. It was a lot to take in. She could scarcely process it in her heavily fatigued state. She couldn’t think. She was so tired. So confused. “I still don’t understand. You’ve seen death before. Why couldn’t you be here? Why did you have to leave?”

“Goddess…” Samara turned away, facing the wall. “You truly do not know…”

“No, I don’t. So tell me,” said Miranda, growing exasperated with how Samara kept doing things like that. Acting like there were things she should already know, which she didn’t. She wasn’t psychic. She couldn’t read her mind. Obviously not. Samara had come all this way to throw this confession at her feet out of fucking nowhere. Why hold back now? “You’ve already said so--”

“Because I could not bear the pain of losing you!” Samara snapped back, her voice sharper and louder than before, as if she had to force the words out, fighting against herself to speak them. But, once they were said, they couldn’t be retracted. “I did not trust what I would do. How I would withstand it. Goddess, Miranda, I was coming apart. I had already broken The Code for you!”

Miranda’s eye widened. “What do you mean?”

“You know this. You said it yourself.” Samara faced her once more, moving a step closer. “I...I threatened to murder doctors, because they wanted to turn off your life support,” Samara confessed, hard as it was for her to say. “You were functionally dead, and I was prepared to harm innocents rather than accept it - to use violence against healers so I could keep you hooked to those machines.”

Miranda’s heart stopped in her chest.

Wait, what? That wasn’t something Jacob had just misunderstood? Her weary mind went black. She couldn’t even comprehend that revelation.

“I breached two tenets, in total. Not only by threatening innocent medics, but that I lied about The Code in order to compel them to spare you,” Samara confided in her, exposing her transgressions, her shame. “This is not permitted. I was unjust. Had I any sisters left to judge me, I might be expelled from the Order for this. At worst, perhaps even executed. Though, if there is but one small mercy to be found, it is that my words, evil though they were, were only words. I took no violent act, drew no weapon, and made no attempt to carry out my threats. Had I done so, The Code would not suffer me to live. Nor should it.”

“...You…wait…” Miranda couldn’t hear herself, her ear was ringing so loud.

What the fuck was happening? This couldn’t be real.

“In what small part of me was still capable of thinking rationally, I knew my behaviour had made me a danger to myself and others,” Samara continued. “If you passed, I could not take the risk of what I might do. At least, that was what I told myself. In truth, by that stage, I was simply too afraid to stay. Afraid of how much it would hurt when you...” She trailed off into silence, her meaning clear.

Miranda didn’t even catch all of that, her thoughts blank. No, this didn’t make sense. Samara was a Justicar. A servant of her Code. She was the embodiment of her way of life. She stuck to it rigidly. She never bent the rules, much less broke them. She would never do that. She was so disciplined. So loyal to it.

Samara hadn’t even broken The Code when it came to her own daughters. An Oath, yes. But not The Code. From what Miranda understood, that was the difference between breaking a promise, and breaking the law. She had told Miranda straight to her face that she couldn’t do the latter. That she would never.

And yet now Samara was standing there in front of her telling her that she had not merely violated The Code, but that she had done so consciously. For her.

Twice.

“Now you see me for what I truly am. Frail. Weak. A fraud.” Samara glanced aside, accepting that what she had done would forever tarnish her in Miranda’s sight, as it should. “So, like a coward, I ran. As far as I could. Every day thinking, is this the day she died? Is this the day? Surely, she must have passed by now, Samara. Just go back. Just go. Confront this. Be with her. But I could not. I could not return, because I was not ready to know. Because I was not ready to feel--”

Her voice caught, rendering her unable to finish that bleak thought.

Miranda felt a heavy tide rising inside her. Like she was swimming in a maelstrom. Sucked in under the water. Unable to breathe. Unable to think or react. It was so much all at once. It was as if she’d been consumed by a tsunami.

“...Why are you telling me this?” Miranda asked through the haze.

“Because you do not deserve to believe you are at fault,” Samara insisted, taking another step towards her. “I abandoned you in your hour of need, not because you mean nothing to me, but because you...you are so important to me it scares me. But that is my burden, not yours. You should not have to suffer for my lack of bravery. I could not bear it if you thought that I have treated you so carelessly because you have slighted me in some way. You have not. I am to blame. Only me. The failure is mine, and mine alone. I am the monster here. Not you.”

“Please don’t say that,” said Miranda. It hurt to hear Samara berate herself like that. She was the opposite of a monster. “I wouldn’t even be here if not for you.”

“But I should have been here.” Samara took another step. As the space between them shrank, Miranda felt a shiver pass through her body, but not because it was cold. “I should have watched over you. Cared for you when you awoke. Been by your side as you rebuilt this city. Weathered the terrible news with you when you learned what became of our friends. But I could not. Instead, I left you. I let fear take hold, and surrendered to despair. Worst of all, I gave up hope. I did not have faith in you, when I should have known you are beyond extraordinary.”

“You don’t owe me anything--”

“Please.” Samara quietly cut her off, refusing her forgiveness, feeling unworthy of it. Even so, she could not refrain from reaching out, curling stray strands of hair back behind Miranda’s ear. Miranda’s pulse spiked, thundering like a drum. “I was distraught for so long. Too paralysed with sorrow to return, and face the news. So convinced that everything I dreaded had come to pass. That I had been too late when I found you in the wastes. That you had succumbed while I was away. That I would find nothing here but your grave.” Samara’s eyes shone as she looked upon her, a warm smile coming to her face. “I do not know how I ever doubted you would defy the odds. You are truly incredible. You always have been.”

Miranda didn’t dare to breathe, Samara was so close. All those bottled up feelings came flooding to the surface. It felt like somehow Samara should just know. That she should be able to lay eyes upon her, and glean from a single glance how easily Miranda came undone in her presence.

God, the things it did to her for Samara to be this near, her fingers on her skin. It was too much. She should have withdrawn and pulled away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want Samara to stop. She needed her, with every fibre of her being.

Miranda couldn’t take it. For her own sanity, she had to force herself to turn her head away. To look somewhere else. Anywhere else but Samara.

"Do not hide from me.” Samara’s fingers curled beneath her chin, lifting her head, compelling Miranda to lock her eye on Samara once more. “I know I ran before, but it was not because of you. Do not think it was ever to do with you.”

She realised then that Samara must have assumed the reason Miranda averted her gaze was because she’d felt self-conscious in that moment. Of her wounds. Of the scars on her face. Little did she know that had nothing to do with it.

It became achingly apparent then as she got lost in that shimmering sapphire stare that Samara had no idea what Miranda felt towards her. And that those feelings were so powerful and intense that they were threatening to devour her.

How could Samara not see what she was doing to her?

She was laid open. Bare. Exposed.

Samara’s fingers combed through Miranda’s hair until they grazed the cord that held her eyepatch in place. Miranda was so transfixed that she almost didn’t even feel her touch it. “May I?” Samara asked her permission to remove it, gauging whether Miranda trusted her enough to show the extent of her scars.

Miranda swallowed and nodded, giving her consent. That was never the problem. Least of all with Samara. Miranda stood stiff against her desk, knuckles turning white against her chair as Samara carefully slipped it off.

Samara released a slow exhale as she set that black cloth down on the table, a wave of heartfelt warmth washing over her features as that barrier fell by the wayside. As if on instinct, her fingers reached out to touch her face, but she stopped her hand just short of Miranda’s scarred cheek. “Will it hurt if I…?”

Miranda shook her head, almost too tense to speak. “Not if you’re gentle,” was all she could manage. And when was Samara ever anything less?

With Miranda’s tacit approval, Samara softly cupped her cheek. Miranda’s breath hitched. How could she be so on edge that such a feather-light caress could make her feel like her entire world was on the verge of exploding?

“I have been devout in my faith for a very long time, and yet...Believe me when I tell you, the only time in my nine hundred and seventy-one years of life that the Goddess has ever answered my prayers was when I turned around on that balcony, and saw you standing there in front of me,” Samara professed.

If she moved so much as a single muscle, Miranda wasn’t sure there was any power on Earth that could stop her from crashing her lips against Samara’s, no matter how wrong she knew it was, or how bad of an idea. She willed her body to stay stone still, because it was all she could do to control herself.

If Miranda hadn’t been leaning so heavily on the desk and chair behind her, she was certain her legs would have given out right from under her. Samara’s skin was still so cold from the rain, but her touch was hotter than fire, and Miranda like wax beneath her fingertips. She could have melted into a puddle on the floor.

“I know I should not, but…” Without another word, Samara tilted Miranda’s head down, and pressed a tender, savouring kiss to her forehead. Miranda’s palm shook against her desk. She was trembling like a leaf. When she parted from her, Samara let her head rest against Miranda’s, cradling her jaw. “...I am sorry, but that is all I have wanted to do ever since I learned you were alive.”

Miranda’s heart wasn’t just pounding. It was screaming.

Somehow, she just knew, if she dared to utter a single sound, she wouldn’t be able to keep from shouting the truth at the top of her voice. The desire to say those five pivotal words seeped from every pore. She was bursting at the seams.

“No, I should not have done that.” Samara shook her head, taking a step back. It was only then that Miranda realised she hadn’t taken a single breath in the last minute, and sharply gasped for air. “I have been selfish. Allowed myself to…” Samara stopped herself, as if suddenly coming to her senses. “Forgive me, Miranda. I have said all I needed to say. I should--”

The instant she turned to leave, Miranda’s hand shot out and seized Samara by her wrist, grabbing her as tightly as she’d ever held onto anything in her life.

“Don’t you dare walk away,” Miranda growled. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Samara hesitated, caught off guard. “...I thought you did not want me here.”

“Why would I not want you here?!” Miranda shot back, her tension built to breaking point. She felt like she was going insane, trying to find her balance on shifting sands. Nothing made sense anymore. For all Samara’s honesty, she still didn’t understand what the hell was going on.

“Because I abandoned you,” Samara answered. That had been the whole reason for her confession. Her apology. “Because I hurt you. Because you hate me.”

“Hate you? Samara, you idiot, I’m in love with you!” the words tore themselves from Miranda’s chest before she could stop them. Samara froze. Miranda released her tight grip on Samara’s wrist. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror as she realised what she’d said. But it was too late to stuff that confession back in.

God damn it. She’d really just said that out loud, hadn’t she?

“Fuck…” Miranda cursed under her breath, realising there was no going back. It was out there now. She had to confront it. “I’ve never...you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way. It’s like a kind of madness.” She wasn’t sure what to say, or whether it was even a good idea to keep talking. But she had to. Now that she’d said it, she had to. “That was why I asked you to leave me alone before. Not because I hate you, but because...I feel the exact opposite.”

Miranda pressed her hand to her forehead, fighting off the incessant pain in her skull. The insomnia that made it so hard to think. To put these complicated feelings into words. She was so not in the right frame of mind to have this conversation.

Yet here they were.

“I’m pretty sure I have for a long time, actually. I was just too bloody stupid to figure it out any earlier. But...” In place of adding anything further, Miranda simply gestured, leaving her feelings out there, in the open, for Samara to do with as she wished. It was a horrible position to be in. She hated every second of it.

“...No,” was the first thing Samara said. Her voice sounded so distant. And it was tinged almost with a sense of...dread. “No. You do not. You should not.”

“I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I do. I think about you all the time. And I don’t...I don’t know what to do about it,” Miranda admitted, shrugging her shoulder.

“No,” Samara repeated herself, more insistently. Her suddenness startled Miranda a little. “You...you are mistaken.”

“I’m not,” Miranda reflexively answered back. She couldn’t help but get defensive, hearing Samara tell her she was wrong about her own feelings, when she knew painfully well she wasn’t. “I tried to convince myself that I was, but--”

“You do not know what love is. And you do not know who I am,” Samara coldly shut her down, refusing to hear this. “If you did, you would know there is nothing about me that is worthy of you.”

“Fucking hell, Samara…” Miranda ran her hand through her hair. This was not how she would have planned this to go. For one thing, she never anticipated she would have to contend with Samara being in staunch denial about her dramatic love confession. But then she paused, as the final part of Samara’s sentence gradually registered in her tired mind. “...I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

“You…” Samara swallowed heavily, realising she had perhaps revealed more than she ought. Maybe because she thought her own feelings had already been blatantly obvious, and it hadn’t occurred to her to think Miranda wouldn’t have realised them by now. But she didn’t take it back. “No, I cannot do this.”

Samara moved for the door as if to leave. In response, Miranda extended her hand, biotically lifting Samara six inches off the ground, holding her in place.

“No,” Miranda sternly commanded her, not letting her run off and hide again. She was getting pretty bloody sick of that. “We’re talking.”

Samara could have overpowered her easily if she wanted to. Miranda was no match for her biotic prowess, especially not in her current state. She could have broken out of this grip with little more than a shadow of a thought. They both knew that. But she didn’t fight. She didn’t resist.

After a moment, Samara just gave her a nod, as if to confirm she would stay. Miranda let go. Samara’s feet hit the floor. She didn’t so much as stumble.

“You were saying,” Miranda prompted, losing patience for her evasiveness.

“...You heard what I said. It is as it seems,” was all Samara could bring herself to say, not denying Miranda’s suspicions. She would not lie to her.

“Do you feel the same way about me?” Miranda asked, forcing her to acknowledge it out loud. To put it into words. There was no room for misunderstanding here.

“That is not the point,” Samara responded, tersely.

Miranda sighed heavily, intuiting what she meant. “Of course. You’re a Justicar,” she said. It didn’t matter what Samara felt about her, if The Code forbade it.

Samara’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I...am uncertain what you mean by this.”

Miranda’s expression mirrored Samara’s, equally bewildered. “Doesn’t the Justicar Code forbid...?” Miranda didn't finish that sentence, simply glancing down at the space between them, choosing to be deft in her words. Using any specific term that entered her mind might be perceived as demanding or presuming too much, or too little, and she wouldn’t risk that.

Samara stared at her, the open-ended meaning not lost in the silence. It was obvious from looking at her expression that she wished her status as a Justicar permitted her to speak falsely. That would have made things so much easier. “...It does not,” she replied to Miranda's myriad unspoken questions, and the words running through her mind. It was the same answer for all of them.

At that, relief dared to trickle through Miranda’s skin.

“That was never the problem,” Samara continued, not allowing Miranda to think that information changed anything. It didn’t.

“Then what is?” Miranda replied. “There’s obviously a connection between us. We both feel it. And if your Code says there’s nothing wrong with that, then--”

“Because I deserve to be alone!” Samara professed. “That is my penance.”

Miranda recoiled. It actually, physically hurt to hear that. “How can you say that?”

“Miranda, listen to me,” Samara implored her, holding her focus. “You are a remarkable woman. You are brilliant and exceptional, in every respect--”

“So are you,” said Miranda.

“No, you are not listening.” Samara raised her hands, determined to continue. “You are so young. You still have so much life ahead of you. So much potential. When others see you, as I have seen you, the entire galaxy will fall at your feet. As it should. You have nothing to gain from me. I am...I am regret, and ruin,” Samara told her, a faint glint of unshed tears in her eyes. “If you truly saw me for what I am, you would know there is only death and misery for you here.”

“I do know you, Samara,” Miranda spoke quietly. “I know that, despite all the tragedy you’ve endured that would break a lesser person, you somehow still manage to wake up each day and choose to be warm, and kind, and good--”

“I am none of those things,” Samara assured her.

“You are to me,” Miranda persisted, undeterred. “I know you are, because you found me when I was at my most jaded, my most cynical, my most closed off--”

“Miranda, no.” Samara shook her head, pleading with her not to feel this way.

“And, instead of rejecting me, you...you reached out to me,” Miranda continued, talking right through any interruption, or resistance. Because this needed to be said. “You made me smile more than anyone has ever made me smile. You showed me that...that opening up to someone you trust and letting yourself be vulnerable around them isn’t a weakness, but that it takes bravery and strength.”

“Please stop this,” Samara begged her, her voice a whisper.

But Miranda didn’t stop. “You single-handedly made me a better person than I was before I met you.” There was no denying that. Without Samara, she wouldn’t have learned from her past mistakes. She would have kept perpetuating the same cycles, and never stopped to reflect on her preconceived notions about what mattered to her, and what made her happy. “So, if you’re unworthy of love, then what does that make me? Because, from where I’m standing...Samara, there aren’t enough superlatives to describe you.”

“Enough!” Samara swept her hand across her body, signalling for this to cease.

But Miranda wouldn’t.

“No.” Miranda pressed forward. She was pouring her heart out. She’d never done this before, because she’d never felt this way about anyone. And, now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. “Don’t you get what I’m saying? You’re it. You’re it for me. I will never feel the way about anyone else that I feel about you, and I know because I’ve tried, and those efforts failed so hard I didn’t even think the ability to fall in love with someone existed in me, until I met you. You’re not just beyond comparison to everyone else. God, you’re...you’re fucking transcendent.”

“Do not...say these things!” Samara cut her off, her voice so loud and forceful that there was no doubt it bellowed through the whole apartment. Miranda had never heard her raise her voice before, let alone like that. “You know not of what you speak. You love a shadow. Nothing more.”

Miranda’s gaze narrowed. “What is it you think I don’t know, Samara?” she challenged, determined to prove herself. “I know more than you think.”

“I killed the last person I loved!” Samara shot back, refusing to subject herself to that indescribable agony a second time. She would never let that happen again.

“No, you didn’t, Samara. She killed herself,” Miranda curtly replied.

“You know nothing of it!” Samara insisted through her teeth.

“I know everything,” Miranda interrupted, unshaken by what Samara thought were secrets. They weren’t. “I know every little fucked up detail you didn’t want me to know. I know you tried to kill yourself too, and the only reason you failed is that your neighbour found you. I know you blame yourself for Mirala becoming Morinth because you think whatever you said to her the night before her test scared her into running away and melding with her best friend to prove she wasn’t an Ardat-Yakshi. I know the police blamed you and wanted to charge you with something, anything, and that you broke down during your interrogation and told them you blamed yourself for everything too. I know the whole world turned against you for something that wasn’t your fault. I know it all.”

Miranda’s response thrust Samara into stunned silence. Miranda had the decency to look contrite, already seeing the fire of betrayal in steely blue eyes. Exactly like she expected. Exactly why this admission had been so easy to put off.

“There’s nothing about you that’s a mystery to me,” Miranda continued, quieter than before. “I looked into your past when we were aboard the SR-2. I’m surprised you didn’t already assume I did. I mean, this is me we’re talking about.”

As that slowly sank in, Samara stepped away and shook her head. “I am disappointed in you, Miranda. Yet I suppose you are correct; I cannot claim this was a shock,” said Samara, in a tone Miranda had never heard before. “After all, you have at all times been nothing if not transparent about your duplicity.”

Miranda’s eye darkened. That hurt.

“Fuck you, Samara. You don’t get to turn this around on me right now. In case you haven’t noticed, between the two of us, I’m not the one lying.”

“Yes, how very dare I be hurt by your treachery,” Samara countered, looking her in the eye once more, her words laced with biting sarcasm. “I should know better than to criticise you, or confront you with consequences for your actions. After all, you are Miranda Lawson. You can do nothing wrong.”

“I’ll apologise as much as you want later. But that’s not what this conversation is about. So don’t change the subject,” Miranda snapped.

“What more is there to say?” said Samara, her arms folded across her chest, unwilling to discuss it further. This hadn’t helped. “You know my answer.”

“There is so much more to say, because you’re pulling away and I don’t even know why. To punish yourself for some imaginary sins? Is that it? Look…” Miranda crossed the distance between them, reaching out and gently clasping Samara's hand, guiding it to rest upon her chest, where she could feel her heartbeat. “Whatever this is, I...I want this,” Miranda assured her. “Do you?”

Samara withdrew, resisting the temptation. “What I want is irrelevant.”

“Why is it irrelevant?” Miranda pursued her. “You’re a person, Samara. An incredible one, but still just a person, with feelings, and wants, and needs. You've spent four hundred years being selfless, to a greater degree than your Code required you to be. You don’t have to do that. You’re allowed to feel things. To want things. To need things. You’re allowed to...to move on with your life.”

“Move on?” Samara echoed incredulously. She turned her body away, refusing to look at her, visibly caught up in a tempestuous tumult of conflicting emotions.

Hurt.

Anger.

Grief.

“If you knew me half as well as you claim to, you would understand what an insult it is to me that you would tell me such a thing,” said Samara, shaking her head in contempt and disbelief. “‘Move on with my life’. The audacity...”

“I'm not saying that to get something from you. Genuinely, I'm not. You don't have to...” This wasn’t working, was it? “What I’m trying to say is that, whatever this is between us, this doesn’t have to go the way I want it to. I’m not even sure what that is, or what that would mean. I was so convinced this could never happen. But don't you deserve a bit of happiness?” she asked, trying to catch Samara’s eyes, though she was intent on avoiding her. “If I bring that to you, then—“

Before she could finish, Samara exhaled heavily and stepped closer, until the space between them virtually evaporated. Miranda trembled as she stumbled backwards on instinct, until she could go no further, and hit the wall near the door.

“Do not speak of happiness.” Samara pinned Miranda in place without exerting any force whatsoever. Without touching her. Whatever Miranda had intended to say before swiftly fled her mind. “My happiness died centuries ago. And I promised myself -- I promised myself, I would never...never betray that.”

Miranda moved to protest, but stopped abruptly when it became apparent Samara wasn’t really talking to her, but rather that she was arguing with herself.

“But, I...you were not...you were not part of that plan. I did not foresee how much I would...how much I would come to...” As her dilemma tore at her soul, Samara grimaced and braced herself on the wall, as if in physical pain. “I do not know what to do. I know I do not deserve this, but...perhaps we can, without...”

“Yes,” Miranda all but whimpered. Whatever she meant, her answer was yes.

She wanted this. So bad. Even if it might have been a terrible mistake. Even if it might have ruined everything they already had. At that moment, she didn't care.

Miranda wanted to kiss her. To sink her teeth into her neck, and tear her armour off. Her body was screaming at her to do those things, desperate to touch her, and powerless to resist if this was what Samara chose. But, in what little part of her brain could still think, she knew she had to let Samara take the initiative for whatever happened next. If she didn’t, she would push her away forever.

They probably only stood like that for a few seconds, but time moved so slowly it felt like minutes. Miranda could see the cogs spinning in Samara’s head. The conflict. The indecision. Temptation. Torn between resistance and surrender.

Samara’s fingers brushed her bare arm. She’d leaned so close Miranda felt her breath against her lips. Then, blue eyes went black. And Miranda felt the magnetic sensations she recognised as a meld beneath Samara’s fingertips.

In an instant, everything changed.

A wave of sheer, uncompromising despair crashed over Miranda, plunging her into the deepest, darkest, blackest abyss she had ever known. It felt as if her very soul had been ripped from her body and murdered in front of her, leaving behind only a hollow, empty shell. Any memory of happiness or joy was stripped from her mind, and shattered into a million pieces at her feet.

She had never felt more devastatingly, crushingly alone.

Bereft of hope.

And, although it had come over her as suddenly as the blink of an eye, it felt like she had never known anything else.

Abruptly, Samara glowed blue, her biotics repelling Miranda, like a barrier between them, pressing her back against the wall. The meld ended only a fraction of a second after it began, leaving both of them visibly shaken. The moment they separated, Miranda's hand flew to her lips, trembling as tears spilled from her eye, coursing down the unscarred side of her face, beyond her control.

Samara staggered backwards, as if she had seen a ghost. “No, I...I cannot.”

“No, don't...” Miranda could hardly speak, overcome by a grief that she could not name. She shook her head. What was happening? She never cried, unless her sister was involved. But this sorrow. It had lasted only a fleeting moment, but it was intense and crushing and it dwarfed any sadness she had ever felt. So much so that it hurt just to breathe. Just to be alive. “I'm sorry, I don't...I'm not...I'm not normally like this. I don't know why this is happening.”

“Because it came from me,” Samara answered, her lips scarcely moving.

“...What did you say?” Miranda lifted her head, staring at Samara, shellshocked. But she hadn’t misheard. Whatever she was feeling, these weren’t her own emotions. In that brief instant that they had started to meld, Samara had inadvertently transferred whatever she was currently feeling onto her.

“I did not mean for this to happen. I am so sorry. I...I thought I could contain myself. My boundaries. I never wanted you to experience this...” Samara whispered until her words trailed off into silence, confirming it to be true.

That realisation struck Miranda to her core, that agony still permeating her being.

“...Is this how you feel about me?” Miranda asked, a deep, dull ache pooling like lead at the base of her heart at the very thought - that this was how miserable she had made her by putting her in this position. Samara didn’t respond, neither confirming nor denying it. “Is this how you feel all the time?”

“It does not matter. This cannot happen,” Samara stated, her voice hollow.

“Samara.” Miranda reached out for her, but Samara raised her hand, signalling for her not to come closer, convinced this had been a terrible mistake.

“In another time, or another life, this would have been...” Samara didn't finish that thought, shaking her head. “I cannot contemplate this. I must not.”

“So, what? You’re just going to run off again?!” Miranda’s shout was enough to momentarily stop Samara in her tracks. Her throat was strangled with emotions that weren’t entirely her own. But some of them sure were. “Tell me, Samara, when did the strongest woman I’ve ever met turn into such a pathetic coward?”

“This is what I have always been!” Samara hissed in response, despising herself for this horrible misdeed. There was no hint of the stoic, composed, restrained person Miranda previously knew. “I have always been a coward. A fraud. A monster. A mistake. A worthless, selfish waste! I have the blood of over a thousand murders on my hands! I am nothing! I should not even be here!”

“Then why don’t you just fucking go!” Miranda shot back, lashing out in pain.

Samara took her at her word, looking at her one last time before she stormed out. Miranda heard the front door slam. The instant it did, Miranda slid down the wall, tears spilling from her eye, the weight of what just happened combining with Samara’s despair, still coursing through her body.

She felt so cold. Like everything right, or good, or light was just...absent.

There was only shadow.

Only grief.

A shaky exhale escaped her lips. What had she done? This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. She’d told Samara the truth, and pushed her away forever. They would probably never speak again. Not after this.

She didn’t even realise that the door to her room was still open until a few heads peeked around the corner to see her. Obviously, they’d been roused by raised voices, and the door slamming. The walls weren’t that thick. They probably hadn’t heard everything. But they would have heard enough.

“Are you okay, Miss?” Reiley asked, visibly concerned.

Miranda wiped her eye and picked herself up to her feet, refusing to let herself look vulnerable in front of them. Even though it was too late for that. “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, taking her eyepatch off the desk and putting it on.

“You don’t look fine,” Jason pointed out as Miranda limped her way past them.

“Samara left in a hurry. And we heard fighting,” Rodriguez noted, not really sure how to approach this. “...Did you fuck things up between you?” she asked, in what sounded like an effort to be understanding and comforting. It wasn’t. Jason chastised her insensitivity with a light slap to the back of her head. “What? It’s fucking obvious they just had a fight…”

Miranda ignored them, grabbing her things, pulling on her jacket and scarf.

“What are you doing?” said Jason, shaking his head at her. For a second, it almost sounded like he was the responsible adult in the house. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Miranda answered stonily.

“It’s 1:00am,” Jason pointed out, as if convincing her to see reason.

“I don’t care.” Miranda slipped on her shoes, and took hold of her cane. She couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t lie there and think about this. Couldn’t feel this.

“Are you coming back?” said Reiley, confused.

Miranda was tempted to lash out at them and say no out of sheer bitterness and spite, but she couldn't. Unlike Samara, she didn't run from her problems.

“...I'll see you in the morning,” she said, before she closed the door and left. None of them knew it then, but they would not, in fact, see her in the morning.

And, when they did see her again, they would wish they hadn’t.

So would Miranda.

* * *

#fic #miranda lawson #samara #mass effect #femslash

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 8

Chapters: 8/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

“We shouldn’t go in,” Jon tells his giggling partners very firmly, but they pay him no mind, and he gets dragged by the hand into the storefront.

The girl working the front desk looks up with a vaguely alarmed look on her face, probably because Gerry and Martin look drunk, despite it being 11 A.M. on a Sunday. They are not, although Jon can understand why someone would think that, as they march right up to the desk, faces flushed, still laughing boisterously.

“Is Melanie in? She’s a good mate of mine.” Gerry tells the receptionist.

“Yes, I’ll check with her if she has a second for you.” And she scuttles off to the back.

“It’s Gerry!” He calls off behind her, before turning to grin at Jon. “Don’t hover in the doorway, babe, Melanie doesn’t bite.”

“Melanie is in fact, perfectly capable of biting,” Jon mutters petulantly, as he moves further into the room to eye the art on the walls. “Especially when you used to date her girlfriend.”

“Oh look, my favorite emo goth boy!” Melanie yells, exploding out the back of the store, all 5 feet of her filled with frenzied energy. Her face immediately sours when she catches sight of Jon, hiding behind Martin. “And my least favourite douche bag.”

“Now, now firecracker, be nice to my boyfriend.” Gerry pulls her into a hug, which leads to a headlock and a swift jab to his ribs.

“I’m very happy to be nice to Martin,” She responds sweetly, blowing him a kiss. “What brings you lot over to darken my doorstep?”

“Piercings,” Gerry tells her with an unnatural amount of glee.

“Jon agreed to let me pierce him?” Melanie asks, perking right up at the idea of causing Jon pain.

“No!” Jon exclaims.

At the same time, Gerry says, “Nah, he’s not interested, but Martin and I were wanting something each.”

“Martin?” Melanie asks dubiously, eyeing up sweet-looking, pink-haired, cardigan-clad Martin.

“Yes,” Martin confirms with false solemnity. “Boyfriends who bleed together stay together.”

“You know,” Melanie remarks, grinning at them, “I have heard about that Pagan ritual.”

Jon has slunk over to a wall of healed artwork and concept designs, managing to avoid Melanie's barbs. As far as he is concerned, the art isn’t as interesting as Gerry’s work. Although, he supposes that what you can make beautiful on a canvas is very different from what you can make beautiful on someone's skin.

“I’ve got a bit of an opening now, what do you want to get?” She asks Gerry.

“Well, you know I’ve been wanting to have my nipples done.” He offers, teal eyes looking slightly wild.

“Yeah?” She grins in triumph, “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Yup and Martin has been considering something for his ears.”

“Hmmm,” She wanders over to Martin to examine him. “Open for suggestions?”

“Maybe.”

“They’re a good shape. Double helix?” She looks to Gerry for affirmation.

“Definitely.” He smirks, eyes lighting up with satisfaction.

"Two?" Martin looks slightly dubious.

"If you do them together, the pain is only a tiny bit more, and the healing time is two-for-one," Melanie reassures him, and Jon thinks it's the nicest she's ever sounded. "It's up to you though, of course."

Jon steals himself to brave the fray, going over to take Martin's hand. It's slightly clammy with the nerves that Gerry's enthusiasm has prevented up until this point.

"It won't be so bad, love." He presses a kiss to Martin's cheek, offering his support. "Just a small jab, then it's done."

"Let's do it."

***

There's a brief fuss with consent forms, aftercare instructions, and payment.

"I don't know what you lot," Melanie instructs Gerry firmly, gesturing between them, "get up to in the bedroom, but no twisting, no pulling, no biting, no sucking your nipples for 12 weeks."

Jon blushes, but Gerry and Martin aren't bothered. "Yeah, firecracker, I know the drill. This isn't my first circus."

"Kinky little shit," Jon mutters under his breath, but the goth only winks at him.

Martin's care instructions are less suggestive, and Gerry and Jon both promise to help him with it.

“Martin should go first,” Melanie pronounces, patting the piercing chair as she disinfects her hands and gloves up.

“Me?” Martin asks.

“Yup, yours will be a lot simpler, and I don’t want to traumatise you by making you watch nipple piercings before your turn.”

Martin climbs on the chair, looking a little pale, but resolute. Jon stands on the side not occupied by Melanie, gripping his hand reassuringly. Gerry stands slightly behind the chair, hand on Martin's shoulder.

The ear piercings are almost comically quick and easy. Two quick pinches, less painful than bee stings, and then Martin's ear is pierced and adorned with small hoops.

He sighs with relief and oh's with delight when Gerry hands him a mirror to check them out.

"I love it!" He exclaims, beaming at Jon and Gerry. They smile back at him, each taking a turn to kiss him on the cheek or forehead, their own relief palpable.

"It's just you and me now," Melanie grins at Gerry and gestures for him to strip.

He shucks off his trench coat and black t-shirt, and stands in front of her, completely at ease.

Jon takes a moment to wonder if he has managed to get himself into a relationship with a masochist. Not because of the piercings, but because Gerry seems to genuinely enjoy being friends with Melanie.

The nipple piercings seem to be a much more complicated process, with markings and adjustments, but several rounds of cleaning and disinfecting later, Melanie runs a metal piercing bar through first one nipple and then the other. Gerry hisses with discomfort but stands carefully steady.

She steps back to make sure they look straight and even, before declaring it a success.

"Nice," Gerry says succinctly, looking in the large upright mirror, nodding his head enthusiastically. He and Melanie high five, and she condescends to grip him in a firm hug from the side.

"You sure I can't tempt you, Jon?" Melanie asks him sweetly as she starts to clean up her station, Gerry putting his clothes back on close by.

Knowing she just wants to cause him pain, Jon tells her firmly, "No, thank you."

He is over by the wall again, looking at different art this time, including a picture of a tattoo that catches his focus. It's a playing card amid a complex arm sleeve, an Ace of diamonds, and despite a lifelong disinterest in tattoos, it speaks to him.

"I think you'd look better with a spade, love.” Gerry manages to startle Jon slightly, appearing beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Jon marvels at his apparent ability to read his mind.

“You think so?” Jon queries, softly. Gerry hums his affirmation. “It's a bit much though, don't you think?”

"You don't need the whole card, for what you want. Just the A and the spade. Small and bold." He picks up Jon's hand, indicating the spot below his thumb on his wrist.

Gently releasing it, Gerry grabs a pen and scrap of paper and rapidly draws out a solid, simple design.

Jon glances over at Melanie, extremely dubious. "Maybe we can go somewhere else to get it?" He whispers.

Gerry laughs warmly, tapping the small piece of paper. "I could do it for you myself."

Jon blinks at him, rather owlishly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can give you the tattoo. I'm probably a bit rusty, but I did survive a full tattoo apprenticeship. I’ve done about a million over the years, although I had to give up my machine when I moved to London."

"You did a tattoo apprenticeship?" Martin asks from nearby, tone skeptical.

"Yup, when I was living in Edinburgh. All three years." Gerry tells them casually. "That's where I met Melanie, actually."

Jon and Martin exchange a baffled look, but choose to simply file it under 'Things Gerry tells us out of order.'

“Well, if you can do it...” Jon sounds a bit floaty but he is staring at the design yearningly, which Gerry knows is a good sign.

"Firecracker," Gerry yells over to Melanie, "Can I borrow your machine?"

***

Melanie makes the stencil while Gerry reacquaints himself with the tattoo gun, setting everything up and getting used to the weight of it in his hand again. The rhythm is always the same with tattooing and he feels himself fall into the past a bit.

When everything is ready, he gestures Jon over to sit in the chair, smiling beatifically.

Jon is shaking a little as he slides up onto it, and Gerry presses a reassuring kiss to his hand before he starts the prep.

"You ready?"

Jon gulps. "Yes."

Martin comes over to take Jon's other hand and Melanie hovers nearby, wanting to watch Gerry like a hawk the entire time he's handling her machine. ("It's the true love of her life," Gerry had confessed to Martin earlier. "Don't tell Georgie.")

Gerry follows the same procedure with any tattoo: cleanse, shave, cleanse again. Numbing cream, in this case, to prevent nerve twitches, then alcohol rub down. Eventually, he applies the stencil carefully, making sure to get it straight and in the correct place.

He checks with Jon, making sure that it is where he wants it. Jon confirms, smiling to see the design on his skin for the very first time.

As the buzz of the machine fills the space, Jon and Gerry make eye contact for a moment. Jon's earthy green eyes are wide, and Gerry can almost see where his pulse pounds through his jaguar vein. He stills a moment, really checking Jon's energy.

He's nervous, it's obvious to see, but Gerry can also see the real desire in him, and with a wink, turns to look down at his new canvas. He sets to work, the buzzing of the needle filling the air.

***

"I love it," Jon whispers to Gerry later, lying in the circle of his arms, Martin's warm weight at his back.

"I love it too." Gerry kisses his forehead sweetly, almost asleep. "Martin, what do you think of your ear?"

"I think boyfriends who commit to pain together stay together," Martin mutters drowsily, repeating his sentiment from earlier.

"Ah, yes," Jon mutters, "The great cosmic bond of suffering."

They laugh easily, the hot excitement of the day echoing within them, yet another thread in the colourful tapestry of their relationship.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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