#endlessly interrupting myself in everything i do

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 2

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: M (corpses, harvesting violence) will be E in later chapters ❤️

a/n: thank you endlessly to @the-scandalorian who lent me her big beautiful beta brain, to @bageldaddy who made me blush with pride and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed my Ezra nerves by checking this dialogue like the queen she is ❤️

Series Masterlist

—

You know he’s waiting for you to speak, but you…can’t.

He takes his helmet off, and you can see his features more clearly. His skin has a ruddy look to it, like it’s been days since he’s last bathed or eaten well, or gotten a decent sleep. He looks older, more weary without the reflective dome hiding the finer lines of his tired features – but still, no less intimidating. 

He looks rougher, his sharp eyes darker and more assessing. 

Your eyes make a slow circuit between his hand, which still loosely holds a weapon, and his dead partner. 

There is no deal to be made here. Not for you, and you know it. 

“Kevva waits, girl.” The sharp snap of his words brings your attention back to his face. He looks impatient. “You ready to talk about that deal?”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, trying hard to fight against the sinking feeling in your chest. “What do you want.” 

It comes out more of a defeated statement than a question, and he studies you for a moment. 

“To be perfectly candid, I am in need of transit.”

You stare at him blankly, and he sighs with impatience. 

“I want your ship,” he states plainly. “However, I am not suggesting to leave you stranded if that’s what you’re thinking. As I find myself lacking….” He glances over at his dead partner for a moment. “I am generously proposing we join forces. Protection, for transport.”

“Protection?” you spit. “You gonna protect me as a partner like you did him?”

“He needed no protection, I can assure you that,” he huffs wryly. “But you?” He pauses in his speech, narrowing his gaze. “What is your plan here, anyway?”

Trying to appear like you have one, you steady your voice. “I’m here to dig.”

He laughs as if your statement is absurd. “I find myself disinclined to believe that, but let’s pretend for a moment that is the case. You dig. What then?”

“I’ll repair my ship and be on my way. Home, with something to sell when I get back.”

“And who is going to help you repair your ship?” he mocks. “You know how to do that too?” His eyes drift to your father’s lifeless form. “Seems your partner is out of commission. I think perhaps he was the mechanic?”

“He wasn’t my partner, I told you.” The corner he’s got you backed in displays plainly on your face. You shift your jaw, looking away. “I’ll find someone to help me. Someone –”

“A girl like you?” he interrupts, raising his eyebrows. “You wander into a camp of fringely mercs, raw, at the end of their tour, what happens? You appeal to their sympathies?” He shakes his head. “They have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer or they will find something to take from you.”

The emphasis he puts on the last few words makes his implication clear, and panic creeps into your limbs. 

“We’re in the same trough, you and I. Can’t say I was pleased to find your mare all black and cockways as she was supposed to be my redemption as well,” he muses, looking around at the poor state of the pod. “But I know how to fix her up. I can help you.”

He seems sincere enough in his offer, but everything he’s done thus far shows you his supposed sincerity means absolutely nothing. 

“I want someone else.” A childish statement, but the truth.

“Well I want a lot of things too, little bird.” He looks almost regretful for a moment, before leveling you with his gaze. ”Starting with your ship.”

Your mind still stuck on what he said about the other mercs on this planet, you wonder what’s stopping him from doing the same. 

“They will find something to take from you.”

Will he?

You could try to go it alone, but your first fucking hour alone on this planet has been nightmare enough to dissuade you from that course of action. If he doesn’t kill you to get this ship, the next person will. If he found you, others will, too. 

You think, buying yourself some time. 

“It’s clear you don’t belong here, little bird. I’m your safest route home,” he argues. “That is the goal, right?”

You bring your eyes back to him, wary and he seems to recognize something in your expression. When he slowly steps forward like he’s approaching a wild animal, you scoot back. 

“Hey,” his tone softens. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re no threat to me, a fragile little thing like you. Anyone else would have killed you outright by now, I promise you that. You have a functioning ship – a rarity in these parts. I can help you protect it.”

“Only because you want to use it,” you sneer, and the edge of his lips lift. 

“Of course,” he replies. “I’m not foolish enough to offer my services for nothing. I promise you no harm if you promise me the same.”

“You killed your partner. Just now, right in front of me. What’s stopping you from doing the same to me?”

“I could have killed you a thousand different ways by now.” His voice slips into something lower, menacing yet truthful. “Like I said, you’re no threat to me. Besides, I think your ship would be better piloted by two, am I right?”

Seeing no way out, you deflate. 

And nod. 

“I need to hear you say it, little bird,” he tilts his head with a light scold. 

You glare up at him. “Yes. I accept.”

“Excellent!” he says, clapping his hands together, the sound making you jump. “First things first. Let’s move these bodies.”

The bodies.

Forgetting all about your new deal with a murderer, your stomach drops at the reminder of moving your dad’s body. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” The stranger grunts with exertion, lifting his partner’s feet to drag his body into a prone position. Crouching, he begins to pat the dead man’s pockets down. 

He’s callous about it, perfunctory. Not gentle in the slightest which makes sense since the man is dead, but still, there is something about the deft way he’s going through everything he had on him that makes it known that this is not the first time he’s done this. Not by a long shot. You wonder if it’s just from his experience on this planet, or an indicator of something larger.

“Mine’s Ezra, if you were wondering.” He gives a teasing glance, making note of your rudeness. 

When you don’t offer it, he merely shrugs. “S’okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I understand your apprehension. But I’ll have to call you something.” He seems to ponder for a moment, placing loose items he’s deemed useful in a pile by the man’s hip. “Since you came down from out of the sky, I would say “Birdie” is a suitable choice.”

You pull a face he doesn’t see, and then he’s moving the belongings to the side, making a clear path to the door of the pod. When his eyes shift to rest on your dad’s body, a sudden urge flares within you to stop him.

“He got anything useful on him?” Ezra’s chin jerks towards it. 

On instinct, you follow his gaze, immediately regretting it. You turn away in revulsion, the pooled blood a dark, congealed mass that sticks in your vision. Closing your eyes, you shake your head with a tight movement. “I don’t think he had anything on him besides his, uh…drops. Everything else is here in the pod.”

If he wonders what you mean by “drops,” he doesn’t ask. Instead, he approaches the body and glancing back, frowns at your hesitant expression.

“Look. You don’t—” he sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice lowers. “I’ll need your help with the big guy, but I can do this one by myself.”

“No,” you protest, forcing yourself to move forward. You can still taste bile, sharp on your tongue. “I should be the one—”

He puts his hand on your arm, shaking his head. “No,” he says kindly, but firm. “You shouldn’t be. A girl shouldn’t have to put her own father in the ground.” He steps around you gently. “Tell you what. Why don’t you head outside and keep watch, little bird. Let me know if you see anyone coming. Make no mistake, there will be scavengers looking for the same opportunity I was, and we’ve got to protect our only means of escaping this planet.”

He gathers your helmet to place in your hands, checking your filters are connected and charged. 

In your hurry to get out of the pod and away from the body, you’re already sealing your helmet into place when he snatches the thrower off the floor.

“Hey,” he calls out sharply, just as you’re about to step out of the hatch. He thrusts the weapon towards you. “Don’t forget your thrower. Armed. Always armed here. Understood?” His gaze holds yours in weighted significance. 

You nod, taking it from his outstretched hand. “Okay.”

Opening the hatch, you step outside for the first time. 

Everything is green. The brush, the trees, the sky–all varying shades of the color. Dust floats through the air; aimless, toxic, suffocating. You wonder how long you would last if you took your helmet off. Studying the lush, towering trees, your eyes follow the paths of thick vines that both climb up the trunks and spill over the dark soil, coming to rest on the soft dirt that your boots sink into. You lift your foot and the imprint you leave behind is as clear as the two sets that lead from the edge of the forest to your pod. 

The footprints circle the pod, and your stomach lurches at the thought that they were circling without you even knowing. 

Resolutely keeping your back towards the ramp, you tighten your grip on your thrower and use the moment to take stock of your situation. Your father told you a couple of things about this planet: the air is toxic, the population is non-existent, and the main reason anyone comes is for the aurelac. An amber colored gem found within the bowels of pit sites, the price it can fetch is significant. His drops clutched tightly in his hand, he told you of a neglected site filled with treasure—a rumor, the Queen’s Lair–his eyes wild and clouded with liquid that made them shine with foolish hope. 

That’s it, though. No map left behind, no coordinates. No solid confirmation it even exists. He only brought you along because it would be dangerous to leave you completely orphaned for however long it took him, and to take advantage of your (limited) skills as a co-pilot. 

When you hear a heavy slide and a grunt behind you, you keep your eyes on the forest, scanning the trees. 

Nothing to offer the man who has offered you partnership, you wonder how long it’s going to take him to figure out you’re of no value. Completely useless, better off dead and out of the way. Your mind scrambles for leverage, and you’re still thinking when you feel a tap on the shoulder. 

Swinging around, you point your thrower – directly at Ezra’s chest. 

His hands fly up in surrender. 

“Steady now. It’s just me.”

He must have connected your comlinks because you can hear his words, low and slightly modulated through your helmet. Lowering your weapon and assuming he’s going to take it from you, you offer it up, but he waves it away, resting his hand on a pistol strapped to his hip. 

“Good to see you’re quick on the draw,” he smirks. He jerks his head towards the pod. “I need your help with the other one now.”

You glance over his shoulder towards the woods, trying to find a sign of your father’s body and his voice snaps your attention back to him. 

“Hey. Don’t…” he pauses. “Don’t. Say your goodbyes to the Green, girl, but don’t go lookin’. You don’t need to see that anymore.”

Surprised by the consideration in his statement, you follow him up the ramp. Inside the pod, he lifts under his former partner's arms. 

“Grab the feet – go ahead and push, while I pull.”

It takes ages getting the massive, limp body down and out, but eventually it’s rolled down the ramp with a thud. Ezra’s breathing sounds loud, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. 

“What you want to do is cover the body with rocks. Try to hide it, so as to not attract any attention. The locals, they –” he grunts, dragging the man towards the brush, “—they leave bodies out in the open, as part of their ritual to honor the memory but I think it’s rather–” he shoves the man down a slope, letting gravity do the work for him, “uncouth.”

Slowly descending down the slant of dirt, you follow behind him. Not used to an explanation following orders, you listen closely to his words. He gives you more context for his decisions than your father ever did, and you pocket every piece of information, eager for it all. Anything to help your survival in this place. 

With both your heads bent in task, he breaks the silence after a few moments. “What was your father here to harvest?”

Lifting a rock from the ground, you toss it in the general direction of the body. “Gems.”

Ezra huffs a laugh. “Most gems are long gone. Discovered and harvested during the rush.” He looks over at you from the corner of his eye. “Got any information on where he was hoping to find unfound riches?”

“If most gems have been harvested, what are you doing here?”

He laughs in delight. “Rapport, how I’ve missed it.”

You take note of the way he side steps your question. “He didn’t tell me.”

“What did he tell you about this place?”

Easy to talk to, charming and affable, you can see how easily he would wheedle information out of others. Unsure how much you should really be confiding in him, you decide less is better for now. 

“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that we were going to come here to dig – or rather, he was.”

“Nothing?” he asks, surprised. “He led you here, unprepared?”

You say nothing, and his expression turns more solemn. He shakes his head. “Foolish, keeping you in the dark like that. My own partner was more of a utility. Seems like your father treated you the same way.”

His statement hurts, though you try not to let it show. You shrug instead, watching your steps as you pick through the rocks. 

He gives you time to reply, and when you offer nothing up, he continues. “Did you ever want to learn how to dig? Harvest gems?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been asked that question, and when you look up at him to find him looking at the ground, you can hear the smile he has on his face through the commlink when you don’t answer. He continues, “I stumped you, didn’t I.”

“I don’t…” you flounder. You’ve always had a distaste for the profession, spending your life around the seedy people who do it. However, it seems rude to say that outright to his face. “I’ve never really thought about it. It would be useful to learn, I guess.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Depends on what you want from this life. It’s a big world out there, Birdie. If you could have your pick, what would you do?”

“Go home.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and though it’s such a small thing to ask in such an endless universe, he just nods like he understands. 

 –

The bodies taken care of, he leads you back to the pod and tells you to wait there for him. He’s got a camp close by – a tent, filled with his belongings – and while he’s gone collecting it, you clean the disorganized mess inside the pod. 

Go home. You don’t even know why you said that, there isn’t much of a home to go home to. This pod has been more of a home than anything else has; the only constant in your transient life. What you meant was some place that felt like a home. A comforting place, where you felt safe and wanted and cared for. The place itself didn’t really matter, more the feeling it represented. You had yet to find it, but you knew it wasn’t here. 

The metal cabinets that line the walls had burst open upon impact, so you take your time methodically putting everything right. Medical supplies, vac packs of food, your father’s harvesting tools. His case, with his initials stamped on it. His supply of chemicals, his various scalpels unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. You snap them carefully back into their case, and put them away. 

Then your things: your bedding, your sparse collection of clothing, your journal. Wrapping the bound book in a shirt, you tuck it into your pillowcase, hiding it. Your headphones appear undamaged, and you test them with a couple of the cassettes that lay scattered across the floor. The music flows through them uninterrupted, and for the first time today, you feel a small sliver of relief. 

You find his drops underneath his chair. 

The tiny brown vial with the stopper you’ve seen him hover above his eye a million times, you aren’t ready for the resentment and rage you feel as you hold it in your palm. You can’t remember a time when your father didn’t have them on him. Slices of time flash through your mind: the sight of his back as he left you for days on end, the slow, syrupy drag of his words when he mumbled after putting the drops in, the feverish need in his eyes as he slipped the bottle from his pocket to calm the trembling in his hands – right before an emergency sensor went off in the pod and everything went to hell. 

The urge to crush it underneath your boot or take it outside and smash it against a tree flares bright, and a scream builds at the base of your throat. 

In your mind, you let it out. In real life, you tuck the bottle into a cabinet and shut the door. 

A signal agreed upon when he left, you know Ezra is back when he knocks rhythmically before entering. Busy scrubbing the dash clean, you’re going over the blood spots for the third time. You can’t see them anymore, but you still feel them there.  

“Got everything,” he states, removing his helmet. Tossing it on the ground, he rakes his fingers through his sweat damp curls with a sigh. “Quite the load to carry back. I’ll need space within your vessel to store my things.”

He steps towards a cabinet, and you stand, alarmed.

“Wait. You’re staying in here? With me? I thought you said you have a tent.”

He ignores the way your voice gets higher and tighter with every word, opening a door to peer inside. “I do, but it would be foolish to separate. If you’re opposed to discomfort, then you never had any business being on the Green, girl.”

It wasn’t my choice, you want to scream at him, but you hold your tongue. 

“Can’t you sleep outside in front of the hatch? To make sure no one gets in?”

He shakes his head, opening another cabinet. He rifles through your medical supplies, impressed. “This beauty really is fully stocked, isn’t she? No wonder I thought she’d be my redemption. Riches beyond belief hidden within her unassuming depths.”

He’s murmuring more to himself than anyone, and annoyance begins to simmer at the careless way he’s putting your freshly organized things back. You’re just about to repeat yourself when he closes the door and turns to you. 

“It won’t do to sleep outside. I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

He opens another cabinet, and your cassettes spill out with a slide. 

“What are these?” he asks, already bending to pick one up. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Snatching it from his hand, you kneel down to gather them up. Huffing with frustration, you cram them back into their storage and shut the door quickly. 

He watches it all, his jaw shifting in thought. 

“Look,” he ventures. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s gonna be a long couple of months if you don’t trust me.”

You say nothing, and he sighs. 

“A good partnership is only made so by candid discourse.”

He’s right. You know he’s right, and yet you don’t have it in you to acknowledge it out loud. How he expects you trust him you truly don’t know, and yet in the hours since you’ve met him, he has shown you kindness. A partnership offer when you don’t deserve it, protection against his former partner, burying your father for you. Whether that kindness is real or a ruse to have you lower your defenses, you don’t know. 

Either way, you don’t really have a choice. 

“There are a couple of spare storage bins over there,” you gesture at the corner, defeated. “You can put your things in there.”

“My sincerest thanks,” he replies with a slip of sarcasm, and turning back to your cleaning, you roll your eyes. 

–

“I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

The words repeat on a loop in your mind; your body shifting on the stiff cot. His presence in the small space feels foreign, your body hyper aware of it. You’ve never slept in this pod with anyone but your father. 

Your father. 

You wait for the grief to come, but when it doesn’t, you blame shock. The alternative would be to think about how you feel nothing, which, what kind of a daughter loses her father and feels nothing? Tendrils of shame seep through your thoughts, and you roll away from Ezra as if he can see into your mind. Your back facing him, you try to shut him out, focusing instead on the moon outside the window. 

It’s full, high and clear above the horizon, suspended in the inky sky. Your eyes study the craters carved into the surface, and you take slow and steady breaths out, mimicking sleep. You wish you could slip your headphones on and drown out the tension that fills the small space, but you don’t want to leave yourself vulnerable like that. 

You hear him shuffle behind you, and your shoulders brace themselves with tension – but when he doesn’t make any other sound, you go back to watching the floating dust. 

Isolated, alone. No different than any of the other thousands of nights you’ve spent staring out at the moon while waiting for your father to come home. The weight of your situation compresses the air in your lungs, and you feel the sharp, hot sting of tears behind your eyes. Squeezing them shut, you will them away. 

You won’t cry in here with him. You won’t. 

Both resentfully frustrated with his presence and deep down, grateful for it, you cross your arms tight across your chest and squeeze. Pouring all your emotions into the pocket of your chest, you squeeze and you squeeze, soothing yourself. 

He shuffles around quietly behind you, getting comfortable on his own cot and you’re thinking it’s going to be a long night just before the weight of the day presses upon your eyelids. 

They flutter shut, and you fall into a dreamless sleep.

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader

[wellgoslowly]

old quotes about love that i think lockwood associates with lucy because im obsessed with these fuckers

“and she tortures me, tortures me with her love. the past was nothing! in the past it was only those infernal curves of hers that tortured me, but now i’ve taken all her soul and through her i’ve become a man myself.” - fyodor dostoevsky

“i can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though i feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and i dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and i would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.” - kafka

“i love thee, i love thee with a love that shall not die. till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.” - william shakespeare

“how do i love thee? let me count the ways.” - elizabeth barrett browning

“i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. i love you simply, without problems or pride: i love you in this way because i do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no i or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when i fall asleep your eyes close.” - pablo neruda

“if i had a flower for every time i thought of you… i could walk through my garden forever.” - alfred tennyson

“when we love, we always strive to become better than we are. when we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.” - paulo coelho

“in vain i have struggled. it will not do. my feelings will not be repressed. you must allow me to tell you how ardently i admire and love you.” -jane austen

“he’s more myself than i am. whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” - emily brontë

“every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. those who wish to sing always find a song. at the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” - plato

“doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt i love.” -william shakespeare

“i cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which had laid the foundation. it is too long ago. i was in the middle before i knew that i had begun.” -jane austen

“i loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.” -charles dickens

“you are always new. the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. when you pass’d my window home yesterday, i was fill’d with as much admiration as if i had then seen you for the first time… even if you did not love me i could not help an entire devotion to you.” -john keats

#lockwood and co #renew lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #locklyle #george cubbins #lockwood netflix #locklyle brainrot is real #save lockwood and co #linnie speaks #linnie assigned really niche stuff to lockwood #alfred tennyson #jane austen #william shakespeare #franz kafka #emily bronte #plato #charles dickens #john keats #fyodor dostoevsky #elizabeth barrett browning #pablo neruda #paulo coelho

[fandomxpreferences]

Two Lines, Two Idiots Chapter Ten: Mojo Dojo Casa House

Series Masterlist

Pairing:Rafe Cameron x Maybank!reader, Twin!JJ Maybank x reader

TW:pregnancy, mild trauma (?), angst, I think thats it

Summary: You move into the house and some things dont go over well with your brother.

Word Count:1.8k

A/N: I dont love how this turned out but im going to stop nitpicking it and just post it finally.

After several nights spent endlessly scrolling and more credit card charges than you ever thought you'd feel comfortable with, you and Sarah have successfully furnished the entire house. It seems surreal as you watch the men scurrying around, assembling various items and moving them around to where you want them. 

At 31 weeks pregnant, you're not allowed to do anything but watch and point. Before moving in today, Rafe had contractors come through and fix anything you weren't in love with. A few fresh coats of paint, some new flooring, and a couple random projects later, the house is everything you could possibly dream of. 

You even have a soaking tub and a temperature-controlled mood shower. That was his one designated project and Rafe left no stone unturned, all the way down to the heated mirror and backsplash he swears reminds him of your eyes.

"Right there is fine." You smile, watching as the men set down a piece of the gray sectional. 

"Son of a bitch!" 

You and Sarah both jump at the sudden shout and look toward the stairs with wide eyes.

Despite the numerous sets of hands here specifically to handle the manual labor, JJ and Rafe have been upstairs in the room you designated as the nursery. 

They'd insisted that it was the one job off limits; that they're men and they should be the ones to build all the babies' furniture. Based on the sporadic shouts and heavy swearing that occasionally echo off the walls, you're guessing it's not going as well as they hoped. 

You glance back at the blonde when there's a loud thump from the nursery, half amused and half concerned. 

"We're good!" JJ shouts, and you can't help but shake your head and chuckle at the two of them. 

You continue offering directions as the movers take trip after trip to the truck, stopping every few minutes to take a rest while they bustle about. 

You're in the middle of savoring a sip of lemonade when two arms wrap around your waist and startle you, forcing you to whine when some of your drink sloshes on the floor.

You're setting your tongue to scold someone when Rafe's giggle rings out and disables the bomb before it can detonate. 

"Sorry, baby. Just wanted to see how my angels are doing." He soothes, and you relax into him. 

"We were doing just fine until you nearly made me pee myself." You tease, and Rafe chuckles into your neck. 

"Is everything coming together the way you want?" He asks, and you give a content sigh. 

"Even better." You smile, and he can't help but match your expression. 

"Good. Nothing but the best for you." 

His lips leave a lingering kiss on your temple before walking away, and you watch until he disappears. Your focus is brought back to the task at hand, and you settle in for a long afternoon.

By five PM, you're all sat on loungers by the pool and laughing while smashing on pizza. It's the most it's felt like old times since this journey began, and Rafe memorizes the way your eyes crinkle when you're really smiling. 

He thinks he could watch you forever; committing every constellation of freckles and childhood scar to memory as if they sit on his own body. Despite his initial hesitance, he's realized how much he's grown and it's all thanks to you. 

Rafe has known of his love for you for a while, but this feels like something else. The way his body reacts just being near you and his brain seems to automatically calm down rings more toward the idea of a soul mate, and he can't help but think that his old self would be laughing right now. 

His thoughts are interrupted by Sarah's voice, and he blinks a few times while turning his attention to her. 

"Sorry, what?" 

She quirks an eyebrow and gives him a knowing smile, but decides not to call him out for being disgustingly in love. 

"I asked if you guys have started discussing names."

He shares a smile with you and nods, leaning back in the chair with his hand behind his head. 

"We've talked about a few." He responds casually, and you giggle at the look Sarah gives him. 

"And?" She asks while impatiently motioning for him to tell her more. 

"We really like Jude or Saylor."

You nod and speak up before JJ has a chance to make a joke. 

"For the girl, we like Isla or Juniper."

Sarah looks like she's seconds from turning into a pile of goo, and you chuckle. 

"So what I'm hearing is that hes not named after his uncle." JJ pipes up, and you roll your eyes. 

"We haven't settled on a name yet, JJ." You remind him, but this only makes it worse. 

"I've still got a chance then?" John B asks suddenly, and you pinch the bridge of your nose dramatically. 

"I love you guys, but we dont need any more duplicates. Besides, neither of them really go with Cameron anyway." You shrug, and JJ sits up straight so fast you nearly leap back. 

"Cameron?"

Your face contorts in confusion and you nod slowly. 

"Didn't I tell you they're taking his name?" You scowl, and JJ fidgets with his hat as his foot taps aggressively.

"Nah, but thats good though. I'm gonna head in." 

He stands quickly and before you can react, he's bounding up the stairs to the guest house. You share a concerned look with the group before clambering to your feet to follow after him. 

You don't bother knocking on the door, and just quietly let yourself in. 

"JJ?" 

He whips around when he hears your voice, and you're taken aback by the angry tears sitting on his lashline and beat-red face.

. He's wringing his hands as he paces back and forth, heavy and erratic pants filling the room as he tries to keep his cool. 

"Why? I mean, after everything Ward has done. You told me you were worried nugget would turn into that evil bastard and now you're making it his birth right?" 

The words sting and you physically recoil as if he's thrown acid at you. It's unfair and he knows it, but something takes over and he couldn't stop himself if he tried. 

"What about Luke? What does giving him the name Maybank do, JJ? Give him a reputation as a thief and a drunk? The name Cameron comes with power, and I want him to do better than we did!" 

You watch him purse his lips and nod curtly while turning his back to you. 

"Right, because we're just fuck ups. Nothing good ever comes from a Maybank. You'll get the name and notoriety, and I'll just be stuck here following in dads footsteps." He scoffs, and suddenly it all makes sense. 

"Oh. You think I'm going to leave you behind." 

You say it more to yourself than him, but the way his eyes cast down tells you he heard. 

"JJ, I will never abandon you. Youre my best friend. Are you kidding? JJ I couldn't even bear the thought of moving ten minutes away, and being in this house while you were on a couch was never going to happen. If I go, you go with me. Always. You are nothing like Dad and you never will be." 

Your heart shatters when you hear him sniffle, and you resist the urge to tackle him in a hug. 

"I was just hoping that If they make something of themselves, maybe they can save the Maybank name." He confesses, and you cross the room. 

"They may not carry the name, but they'll always be half Maybank. You dont need them, JJ. Youre saving our legacy all on your own."

Your head rests gently against his shoulder as he puffs out a breath of air, and you wrap your arm around his torso silently. 

"No, everyones already made up their minds about me. Give it ten years and I'll be right where dad is."

He moves to stand but your fingertips dig into his flesh as you force him to stay still. 

"JJ I swear to God, dont ever let me hear you say some shit like that again. Do you think if there was even a microscopic chance of you turning out like Luke that I would let you near the babies? You are the best brother and youre going to be the best uncle. Okay?"

He hesitates for a moment, hand rubbing against his chest the way it always does as he mulls over your words. 

"Okay. " He finally accepts, and you smile brightly. 

"Good. Now lets go rejoin the group and have a great night, yeah?"

He nods and slips his hat back on, hot on your heel as you the two of you make your way back to the poolside. You reclaim your seat by Rafe and squeeze his knee when he gives you a curious eyebrow scrunch. 

You can fill him in later, right now you just want to spend time with your favorite people. 

Your feet kick up to rest on the lounge chair as you settle in, warmth buzzing in your chest at the sight of your small little family.

"I love you guys." 

This seems to draw everyone's attention, and it takes a second before they realize what you said and tackle you gently. 

"Awh, we love you too. " John B teases while ruffling your hair, and five sets of arms engulf you. 

"Ooh!" You half shout, sitting up straight as a pin and grabbing your stomach. 

Everyone freezes, and Rafe's pale face combined with terror-stricken eyes is enough to make you crack a grin. As soon as they realize you are messing around, they all groan and stand up to make their way to the guest house. 

"Okay, you ruined it. Thats fucked up." JJ whines, and you giggle loudly. 

"Come on I had to do it at least once!" You reason, but it falls on deaf ears as they make their way into JJ's place and leave you with some privacy. 

"That wasnt nice." Rafe smirks, and you roll your eyes while curling back into his arms the best you can. 

"Maybe not, but it was funny." 

He shakes his head at your antics and pulls you in tighter, always desperate to have the three of you within his grasp. 

"I love you so much. I know this isn't going to be easy, but there's no one else I would want to do this with. Hell there's no one else I would do this with." He mutters, and his stomach flips when you nuzzle into him even further. 

"I love you too, Rafe. Promise me we'll come out of this okay, Promise me we wont be that couple that splits up and has to co parent because we lost the spark." You almost beg, and your heart rate slows when he presses a kiss on your head. 

"I promise."

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him and pray that it doesn't destroy you.

@itsmytimetoodream @brynley-a-xoxo @whore4drew @houseofperfecttaste @everythingmarveltopgun @f4ll-for-you @athenabarnes @antagonize-me-motherfucker @writtenwordslover @madsnxo @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @starrystarkey93 @keylin1730 @fulla02 @loving-and-dreaming @evening-starlight @ibleedcalories @badasspizzalover @veescorneroftheworld @pinkpantheris @brooklynscherry-z @starkeylover @sebastiansstanswhore @lothiriel9 @katzarantos @gillybear17 @genius2050

#Rafe Cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #Rafe Cameron series #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outerbanks imagine

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // seventy-four

| @sani-sims | @maladi777

next / previous / beginning

EVE: Your Grace! KYRIE: Mm, I thought we were on a first name basis. EVE: laughs What a terrible time to joke. KYRIE: I think it’s the best time. What happened? EVE: You collapsed. I’d thought the curse had overcome you. KYRIE: No, at least, not yet. It was my fault, getting all worked up over… Indryr warned me it’d get worse before it got better. EVE: An admission like Taiyo’s would be hard for anyone to hear. Even without what you’d done for him figuring into the equation. He’s only just left now, I can go and fetch him— KYRIE: Don’t trouble yourself. If he wants to come in his own time, that’s for him to decide. EVE: I would rather you rest comfortably, but I feel it’d be wrong for me not tell you— HIGH PRIESTESS: Kyrie. KYRIE: Well, if it isn’t the other shoe. HIGH PRIESTESS: You told me you’d alert me as soon as he was conscious. That was our arrangement. EVE: He’s only just awoke. At least give him a moment to think, if not breathe. HIGH PRIESTESS: Yes, well, he is awake now. You’re free to leave. EVE: I’d rather stay to make certain he’s well— HIGH PRIESTESS: I can make certain myself, or will you not allow me a moment with my son? KYRIE: laughs Oh, stars above. The gods are full of jokes these days. If I’m alive at all, it’s because of Eve’s consideration and skill. You could do her the honor of showing at least a modicum of respect. HIGH PRIESTESS: I am endlessly grateful for your contributions, My Lady. Now, please. A moment. EVE: scoffs Very well. KYRIE: Is this the sort of behavior you would show to one of your precious Chosen? It’s incredible you can’t even fake civility in the face of this ceremony you profess to care so much about. HIGH PRIESTESS: Don’t patronize me, Kyrie. While you lay here like some negligent child. You asked me to trust you once again, and here we are. The sheer scope of your irresponsibility is truly astounding. KYRIE: Why should I have to live long enough to hear you lecture me a thousandth time? If I had one wish at all its that this curse would kill me quicker. HIGH PRIESTESS: Do not speak so recklessly. KYRIE: I’ll speak as I wish, if only because my voice is the one part of me you can’t control. HIGH PRIESTESS: And what will your sister say when she returns? KYRIE: Don’t threaten me with my own sister! For all you know, Alphanei is dead. And maybe you do know it, Gods be certain you’d never tell me the truth. There must be a reason she’s beyond my sight. And maybe I’m glad of it. If the last month has taught me anything, it’s that being Chosen of the Moon is nothing but a prison. If this is how you treated her all these years and I stood idly by, oblivious to what she endured, then I wish you would have neither of us. HIGH PRIESTESS: Your sickness has made you delusional. You’ve grown up inside these very walls. Tell me what have you wanted for? Nothing. I have done everything in my power to protect you both. To keep you safe— even from yourselves. But you have always been the troublesome one. Ever since you were a child. Caught in your own head, selfish and stubborn. HIGH PRIESTESS: Do you know how many mages I have sent north? How many elven knights have traveled out to retrieve Her Grace? Do you know how many have died in that pursuit? No, Kyrie. I spared you those details so you did not have to live with guilt of just how important you really are. KYRIE: As tools. But not as people. Regardless, now that too is on my conscience. We never asked for this role. We never had that choice. And because of this city’s insistence on a corrupt ritual, hundreds have been subjected to needless slaughter. If I could end it all by forfeit of my life, I would not wait a moment longer. HIGH PRIESTESS: Always a fool. I’ll send for the King’s clerics. And after you are cured of this, we will a find more suitable way to proceed. ASTER: Your Grace, heard you were awa— Oh. Am I interrupting something? KYRIE: Not at all. Mother was just leaving. HIGH PRIESTESS: Hmph.

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #oc: kyrie loren #cc: aster songleaf #cc: eve ravenclaw-silvermoon

[daechwitatamic]

XI. All of It || KNJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns, eventual and brief smut

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

Being away from home for Christmas makes you re-evaluate the choices you’ve made, and the people you’ve pushed away.

Section Warnings: language, drinking, kissing, one pov switch, big time jumps

WC: 8k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sunday December 24th

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Namjoon asks you for the ninetieth time. 

“Namjoon, go,” you laugh. Mrs. Kim is running out to get a few last second groceries, but insists that you stay at the house to “rest”, instead recruiting her son to help her carry everything home. “She’s waiting for you!”

“You could tag along,” he offers. “I know she told you to stay, but she’s not that scary! You can disobey!”

“I absolutely cannot,” you tell him seriously. “It’s fine - you’ll be gone, what, an hour? I can entertain myself.”

He sighs, like he hopes you’re right. “Okay. I’ll try to hurry her along so we’re back sooner.” 

You stretch to kiss him goodbye, and watch as he exits through the kitchen door, loping around the house to where Mrs. Kim waits for him. Then, alone in the kitchen, you face the silence and stillness. 

This is fine, you think. It’s a moment where you don’t have to be on in front of strangers, a moment where you don’t have to watch what you say because his family is forming their impression of you. You stand there for a minute, palms on the cool countertop, just breathing. 

Then, from the other room, you hear something: the unmistakable sound of the opening lines of your favorite, cheesiest Christmas movie. 

You creep to the doorway of the living room. The second he sees you in his periphery, Mr. Kim jumps a mile and scrambles for the remote, rushing to change the channel.

“I’m sorry!” you call, trying to bite back laughter. “I didn’t mean to interrupt - I’ll go do something else!”

His cover blown, he stops scrambling. On the tv screen, a team of flying reindeer pull Santa’s sleigh across the moon as the opening credits run. Mr. Kim hangs his head in shame.

“I will never hear the end of it if they find out I’m watching this,” he tells you. 

“This is my favorite one,” you tell him honestly. “So if you want to leave it on for a while… I promise to take the secret to my grave.”

You sit in comfortable silence in a plushy, blue chair next to the couch, enjoying a garbage holiday indulgence, listening to the crackling fireplace, and watching the snow flurries out the window. And, true to your word, when you hear the front door unlocked, you pull out your phone like you’ve been doom-scrolling for an hour while Mr. Kim turns on the news station.

–

That night you accompany the family to Namjoon’s uncle’s house. It’s big, and bright, and loud, and full of screaming little cousins running underfoot, and aunts that shriek and hug you when Namjoon introduces you as his girlfriend.

“Our Joonie!” one aunt cries, pulling him sideways away from you like that will stop you from hearing her. “She’s beautiful!”

Namjoon winks at you, and tells her, “Smarter than me, too.”

Later, you catch some air together outside. 

“I am not smarter than you,” you tell him adamantly. 

“We can agree to disagree,” he murmurs into your mouth, because he’s already kissing you. 

“Merry Christmas,” he tells you when you break apart, his voice low and soothing, warm and loving. “I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, snuggling closer into his embrace. Snow falls lightly, as it has on and off all day, landing on your dark winter jackets. “I am, too.”

Monday December 25th

Christmas Day is bittersweet. 

The morning is lovely; Namjoon and his parents exchange a few small gifts and you bat away Mrs. Kim’s apologies that she has nothing for you.

“We keep telling you,” Namjoon laughs, his feet in huge, fluffy slippers that his parents got him, “just send us home with food. Neither of us can cook, it’s a miracle we haven’t starved.”

“Don’t say that to your mother, she’ll worry,” Mr. Kim chides. 

You glance at the clock and notice that it’s about the time that Lin would be getting home from work. Impulsively, you excuse yourself and step back into the guest room, closing the door nearly all the way and pulling out your phone.

Lin answers on the second ring. “Everything okay?” she greets you.

It makes your heart a little heavier. It doesn’t even occur to her that you might be calling just to say Merry Christmas.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you assure her. “I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas before you went to bed.”

“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “Well, Merry Christmas to you, too. And your boyfriend. Are you having fun?”

You’d shrug if she could see you. “They’ve been really nice,” you tell her. You hesitate, then say, “Hopefully you’ll meet them someday.”

“Sure, at the wedding,” Lin jokes. “You’ve always been so private!”

You’re not sure what to say to this. You know it’s true. You never shared much with her, never had a big group of girlfriends to tell things to. It was always just you and Taehyung.

Now you’re sad for two reasons.

Somehow, Lin seems to read your mind through the phone. “Is it weird not having Christmas with Taehyung’s family?” she asks.

“I was trying not to think about it,” you admit, and she laughs.

“I’m sure they miss you!” she says. “I’ll tell them hello - I see his mom all over town. I’m sure it was weird for him to come home without you. Do you think he’s jealous that your boyfriend gets your attention now?”

She’s joking, but she’s spearheaded the truth so perfectly that it knocks your breath out. 

She interprets your silence correctly and the teasing vanishes instantly. “Oh, honey,” she says, voice full of regret. “I didn’t know you were going through that. Are you, like, actually fighting? What happened?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “We… aren’t speaking right now,” you admit, your voice tight. “But could we talk about it another time? They’re all waiting for me out there and I don’t want to get all upset…”

“Sure, sure,” she says quickly. “But Y/N? Taehyung loves you - he’s been your best friend for so long. He’ll adjust. It’ll be okay. Alright?”

That’s all it takes to set you off - just her kindness, her reassurance. As you tell her thank you, and goodbye, you’re choking back tears, trying to get it together. As you hang up, you feel - for the first time maybe ever - like you actually miss her. 

You and Namjoon spend the afternoon reading on the couch together, your feet on his lap. His parents tut and whisper that there’s two of him now, and you can’t help but smile. 

Late in the afternoon, you glance at your phone, tempted to text Taehyung Merry Christmas. You’ve never had one without him before, except for the year he had the flu. In the end, you slide your phone back into your pocket, screen still locked. 

Tuesday December 26th

You and Namjoon decide to head back a day early once the weather reports start forecasting an actual blizzard. 

His parents are disappointed, but understand. Namjoon’s dad warms up the car, idling in the driveway while you two collect your bags and zip your coats. Namjoon steps out ahead of you, and you can see past him that the clouds are low and gray, the air feeling like impending snow. 

Mrs. Kim calls you back by your name, and you hesitate, turning to see what she needs. She shuffles in from the kitchen, a reusable grocery bag in her hands, laden with leftovers. She pushes it into your hands wordlessly.

“Thank you,” you tell her enthusiastically, eyeing the number of containers she’s crammed in there. “We’ll eat well for at least a week. Thank you so much.”

She keeps her hands on the bag’s handles for a second longer, not allowing you to pull away. She opens her mouth, then hesitates, like trying to decide how to say what she wants to say.

“I hope you’ll come back soon,” she says finally. “If you need help with… cooking, or… if you need someone to talk to… I hope you’ll come to see me as someone you can reach out to.”

Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away quickly, embarrassed, as she finally releases her hold on the bags.

“Thank you,” you tell her, your voice a little choked. “And thank you for letting me stay here. I appreciate it… so much.”

On the train, Namjoon bumps his knee against yours. “You’re quiet,” he says, a loving accusation.

You sigh. “Your family’s awesome,” you tell him.

Understanding, he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. “Come home with me any time,” he says. “They’d love it. And so would I.”

You watch the countryside roll by in silence for a while. You’re almost drifting off when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Then again, and then again.

[10:51 AM] Taehyung: my mom says merry christmas  [10:51 AM] Taehyung: i missed you during the drive home [10:52 AM] Taehyung: i miss you now, at home [10:52 AM] Taehyung: we’ve always spent christmas together  [10:52 AM] Taehyung: the guys said you’re with namjoons family [10:52 AM] Taehyung: i’m glad you weren’t alone. I would have felt even worse [10:53 AM] Taehyung: i know i said it a lot of times, but i’ll say it again. i am SO sorry for what i did [10:54 AM] Taehyung: can we talk when i get back to campus? Like… actually talk?

You turn the screen and nudge Namjoon’s elbow, letting him lean over to read it. You feel… kind of empty. 

“I think he means it,” Namjoon murmurs. 

You press your lips together, clutch the phone so tight your knuckles turn white. 

“I think he does, too,” you agree finally.

“You gonna talk to him?” Namjoon asks. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. You turn the screen off and slide your phone back into your pocket, the messages unanswered. “I’ll think about it.”

An hour later, as the train rolls past campus, your heart clenches as you catch glimpses of the places you’d spent with Taehyung the last few years - the dorms, the academic building, the football field. You pull your phone back out, feeling something inside you crack and break. 

That something might have been your pride, your hurt feelings, your tightly-clutched anger.

[12:04 PM] You: merry christmas to you and your family, tae

[12:07 PM] You: yeah… let’s talk when you get back

Friday December 29th

“Did you know that you’re the warmest person on the planet?” you ask. 

“I think you mean hottest,” Namjoon jokes.

You’re wrapped up together, in his bed this time, as you’ve been for most of Christmas week. The blizzard came and went without incident for the two of you - you stayed inside, comfy and warm, reading together, eating food that only needs to be microwaved, and talking - about his book, about your upcoming classes, about the beautiful snow coating everything outside.

About your upcoming conversation with Taehyung. 

There’s something you don’t talk about, though - your niggling feelings that you owe Lin more, like you have something to make up for for bailing on going home. 

“I can mean both if it makes you feel better,” you tease back. “But right now, I really mean warmest.”

“I’m sticking with hottest,” he says, eyes closed happily.

You’re quiet for a few minutes, just listening to him breathe, just reveling in feeling happy and safe and - yes - warm. 

“Joon?” you murmur.

“Mmm?” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“Wanted to ask you something.”

Now he peeks at you, curious at your sudden meekness. “What is it?”

You wiggle your toes in discomfort. Namjoon waits you out, like he always does. 

“I was thinking about how I left Lin alone this week,” you say slowly. “I mean, she’s always alone. It’s not, like, my job to make sure she’s not lonely.”

Namjoon says your name quietly, disarmingly, a reminder that you don’t need to jump to defensiveness - not with him.

You sigh. “I feel bad,” you admit. “So I was thinking about going home on the train for New Years? And, um, no pressure, but if you want to come with me –”

“Of course I do,” he says immediately, not even letting you finish. “Of course I’ll go with you.” He laughs, once. “Honestly, I’m honored. Have you ever brought a guy home before?”

You hide your face, blushing and fighting a smile. “Literally never.”

He grins at you, and you press a kiss to the dimple closest. 

“Sounds fun,” he says. “When do you want to go?”

“Sunday, maybe?” you suggest. “New Years Eve day?”

“That’s fine,” he says, eyes on the ceiling as he flips through his mental calendar. “You gonna give your aunt a heads up?”

In the end you text Lin and Taehyung the same thing - “coming home Sunday for new years. See you then?”

Sunday December 31st 

The train ride to your hometown is significantly quicker than Namjoon’s was. Somehow, you feel even more nervous this time than you did on your way to meet his parents. You’re not sure if your nerves are for introducing Namjoon to Lin, or for talking to Taehyung again after what a disaster it was last time.

Both, probably. 

“What if he pulls some shit again?” you ask out of nowhere, the question that’s burning under your skin finally breaking free.

Namjoon grimaces. “I’ll be there this time.”

You sigh, frustrated. “And that’s fine for in the moment, but I’m more worried about like… the long-term. If he acts like an idiot again, where do we go from there? Do I just just not talk to him for another week until he’s sorry again? Is it a cycle? Or do I cut him out completely and just… give up on the friendship?”

Namjoon’s grimace doesn’t waver. “I think that’s up to him. And you,” he says gently. 

You let out a slow breath. 

“I wish I knew what to mentally prepare for,” you admit, huffing out a quiet laugh.

“Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it,” he promises, and you appreciate the gesture. But it isn’t the same for him, and you know it. Taehyung’s his friend, sure, but it’s very not-the-same.

“Anyway,” you say, trying to give yourself a mental shake. “I’m excited to bring you home. I’ll focus on that.”

“I’m more nervous about that part,” he admits with a smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You sit like that for the rest of the trip, leaning into his embrace. 

Lin’s house is walkable from the train station if you know the shortcut through a broken chain-link fence - which, luckily, you do. You let yourself in the front door with the key you keep, both of you kicking off your shoes and leaving your suitcases in the narrow entryway. 

You enter the small living room first, Namjoon behind you trying to get his boot off of his foot. Lin gets up from the couch with a smile, coming to give you a hug.

“How was the ride?” she asks, starting to pull away. 

You start to answer her, when her face suddenly changes as she sees Namjoon come through the doorway behind you. Her smile drops, her face goes pale, and - completely inexplicably - she starts to tear up, a hand coming to cover her mouth.

Adrenaline and alarm rush through you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, “I should have warned you I was bringing Namjoon. It was kind of a surprise. Shit, Lin, are you mad? We can get a hotel room for him instead –”

“I’m not mad,” she manages, wiping under her eyes. “I’m happy. I never thought - Honey, it’s so nice to meet you.” 

She’s moving around you and hugging Namjoon, who looks at you with comically wide eyes over her shoulder.

She lets him go, sniffling a little, pulling back to get a good look at him. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Namjoon says awkwardly. “If it’s too late notice for me to stay here, I understand –”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “It’s fine. It’s wonderful.” She turns her teary gaze back to you.

You’ve never seen Lin cry, never in your life - not even over Grandma. 

“It’s just,” she says, clearly trying to get her voice under control, “Y/N’s never brought home a partner before. You barely even brought home friends. As you grew up… it felt like you were pushing this place away, rejecting it as a home - like you didn’t consider it a place worth bringing the people who were important to you.”

This floors you, knocks you right out. You take a deep breath, try to still your shaking hands. You turn to Namjoon. “The guest room is through that door off the kitchen,” you tell him. “Do you want to bring your bag in?”

He gives you a long, searching look - like he’s trying to figure out if you’re okay, like he’s trying to figure out if it’s okay to leave you on your own.

But it is. This time, it is.

You give him a reassuring little nod, and he gives you the tiniest hint of a smile back before going to get his suitcase from where he’d abandoned it in the entryway. He wheels it past you, through the kitchen and you turn back to Lin, who’s wiping furiously under her eyes.

“Lin,” you say quietly. “I… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

She sniffs again, working hard to get it together. “I understood,” she says kindly. “Things were so hard for you. I could understand it if you took your anger at your situation out that way.”

“It wasn’t that,” you say, trying to explain. “It was just… the only person who was important to me was already here.”

Her eyes flash to the living room’s front window, which looks out to the street - where, across the pavement, you can see the corner of Taehyung’s house. Then her gaze flits back to you.

“I see,” she says somberly. Then she brightens. “But not anymore, huh? Now you have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes on the doorway where Namjoon had disappeared with his bag. You can’t fight your smile. “Apparently I do.”

She squeals a little and pulls you back into another hug. “I can’t wait to get to know him,” she tells you. “I hope you two will come around a lot more.”

You’re reminded of Namjoon’s mom saying the same thing. It feels… strange - to have homes waiting for you, with people wanting to see you. It’s something you hadn’t ever really felt, growing up. 

For the first time, you’re starting to see family as something you have to build. 

“By the way,” Lin says, glancing at the clock, “are you two having dinner at the Kims with me tonight? If so, I’d better tell her to add a place at the table for your man.”

“Oh my God,” you say, laughing, covering your face. “Don’t call him that.”

“Dinner at the Kims?” Namjoon asks, finally deciding it’s safe to come back now that you’re done hugging. “Tonight?”

“Just across the street,” she tells him. “I have work tonight, so unfortunately I’ll have to leave around ten. Are you joining? Or are you and Taehyung…?”

You shrug. “He texted. We’re supposed to talk. Maybe tonight’s a good chance for that.”

She reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “I like the sound of that. Start the New Year off with a clean slate.”

You like the sound of that a lot, too. You really, really hope that’s what the night will bring.

“We’ll go,” you say, looking up at Namjoon for confirmation. He nods, like he doesn’t care what you do as long as you’re together. Which… is probably exactly what he thinks. “Right?”

“Sure,” he says easily, reaching out to grab your hand. “What’s for dinner?”

–

Tons is the answer to that question. Taehyung’s mother cooks for the six of you like she’s cooking for twenty. 

Lin leads you into the house, calling cheerful hellos. You hug Taehyung’s parents happily, then step back, meeting your best friend’s eyes for the first time in almost three weeks. He chews his lip nervously, gives you a tiny nod. You return it. Behind you, Namjoon is shaking Mr. Kim’s hand, introducing himself.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “Mr. and Mrs. Kim, this is my boyfriend, Namjoon. He’s a grad student at the university.”

Mrs. Kim and Lin head into the kitchen and Mr. Kim heads for his study down the hall, leaving the three of you alone in the living room. 

Awkward silence echoes.

Taehyung breaks the silence first, addressing Namjoon. “You want a beer?”

Namjoon eyes him for a minute, jaw clenched. For a scary second, you think he’s actually going to tell Taehyung to go fuck himself. Then, he unclenches, twists his mouth to the side like he’s thinking, and nods.

“Sure,” he says. “A beer would be great. And maybe one for Y/N, too?” 

“Yes, please,” you say, flashing Taehyung a thankful grin. When Taehyung returns, holding out the bottles to you, you take them, feeling… hopeful. It’s just a beer, sure, but it feels like a peace offering. It feels like everything might actually be okay. 

–

Dinner is delicious, and somehow not awkward. Taehyung’s mother has always doted on you, so she peppers you with questions - about school, your thesis, about how you and Namjoon got together. You’re afraid it will be weird, but while Taehyung doesn’t contribute to this part of the conversation, he listens attentively. You realize he probably didn’t know the story, himself. 

When ten o’clock rolls around, you hug Lin goodbye at the door - something new for both of you.

“This year’s gonna be better for us,” she promises you in a whisper. “I can already tell.”

You nod against her shoulder, then wish her a safe drive. 

–

“Five… four… three… two… one! Happy New Years!”

Everyone in the room cheers, Taehyung blowing into a noisy paper horn. Namjoon’s eyes glitter, and then he tugs you closer by the waist, kissing you soundly. Somebody - Mrs. Kim, you suspect - whistles and you feel yourself blush. Your happy, bashful laugh breaks the kiss, and he squeezes your waist once as you break away. 

You grin up at him, so happy you could burst from it. It’s hard to believe that four months ago you were strangers, tip-toeing around each other at home.  It’s hard to believe that four months ago you couldn’t shelter in his arms, listen to his heartbeat, tell him every stupid thought you have.

The Kims have huddled noisily on the other side of the room, giving you two a little privacy for a moment, so you take the opportunity to press yourself closer to Namjoon. You stretch onto your toes, your lips close to his ear, and whisper, “Looking forward to this year of loving you, Joon.”

His arms tighten around you and you swear you hear his breath catch.

Then, he nuzzles his face in his hair, whispering back, “I love you.”

You hold him tight, swaying a little, your heart soaring and soaring. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your life.

–

Tae’s parents go to bed shortly after midnight, and you’re eager to leave, too - your house across the street is empty tonight, after all. 

Taehyung walks you two to the front door. Namjoon steps out first, heading down to the grassy yard. Taehyung calls your name from the top step, and you hesitate. 

“Can… could we talk now?” he asks, voice small. “Like… alone?”

Two steps down from you, Namjoon mutters something that sounds an awful lot like audacity. 

“I’m all ears,” you say. 

Taehyung flushes, his chest going dark and patchy above the collar, the way it does when he’s upset. “Listen,” he says, “I know what I did was really fucked up. I want to apologize - to both of you. I really am… so goddamn sorry.”

“I appreciate that,” Namjoon says evenly, voice low. There’s something hot about how he says it, and you feel a tingle and a thrill. You want to take his hand and drag him home.

“I…” Taehuyng falters, his eyes on you. “I really do want to talk to you about everything. And… it’s hard. Right? It’s not just me? I think I’ll… do a better job saying what I mean if it’s just us.”

You frown, but the truth is you understand. For your whole lives, it had been the two of you. You speak your own language with each other. What he’s trying to tell you is he can be more authentic if he isn’t trying to communicate in a way that lets Namjoon in, too. 

You look at Namjoon to gauge how he feels about this. He looks back at you, face unreadable. Your choice, the blankness tells you.

“We stay right here,” you say, pointing at the steps. 

“That’s fine,” Taehyung says eagerly, like he can’t believe you agreed. 

You look at Namjoon again, and he nods. “I’ll be over there,” he says, nodding at your house. “You know where to find me.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell him, a little devious. “I definitely plan to come find you.”

His smile back is wicked as he turns and lopes across the yard, disappearing into the dark.

You wait for him to start, to say what he wants to say, but he just looks at you. In the dark, his eyes look almost black.

“Okay,” you say finally. “I’m here to talk. So let’s talk.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, like it’s bursting from him, like he was waiting for permission to unleash it. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you.”

You press your lips together and look away, shove down the wave of emotion - fresh anger, deep hurt. “So why did you?” you manage. 

“I could see myself losing you all semester,” he admits. His voice trembles, just slightly. “I could see it happening little by little and I couldn’t figure out why and I felt so… frozen… I didn’t know how to pull you back without crossing any lines with you…” He rubs a hand over his face, inhales roughly. “When I found out you were in love with Namjoon, it’s like my brain went into this panic state and my body just reacted and did the only thing it could think of that might stop you from walking away.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. Angry tears string at your eyes, their tracks suddenly warm on your cheeks. Your voice shakes when you mutter, “That’s so fucked up, Taehyung. I don’t deserve that.”

“I know,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face again. His shoulders shake, barely noticeable, before he pulls it together to continue. “Of course you don’t. I just… wanted you to stay. I don’t know… how to live a life that isn’t… half yours.” His sentence is punctuated with long sniffs, hurried swipes under eyes - for both of you.

You hate it, but you know exactly what he means. You hadn’t known how to live a life that wasn’t half his, either. But you’d learned - you have to build it yourself. It doesn’t come out of nowhere. 

“Tae…” you say, sniffing once more and trying to take a steadying breath. “That stuff you said to Namjoon…”

He hangs his head, exhaling, the sound whispery and warbling. “He really just pissed me off,” he admits, not looking at you. “But, for a second, I really did wonder…”

You can see exactly what’s coming and you brace yourself, wondering how bad this next admission will hurt.

“Of course I love you,” he says, looking up at you. He’s not crying, now. Instead, he looks at you so seriously, like he’s got to see your reaction, to know you hear him. “You’re my best friend. There was really a minute there where I wondered if my way of loving you could really be that different from…”

From your way of loving me. He doesn't need to say it.

It doesn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would.

“The answer to that,” you say dryly, “is yes, very.”

He nods, acknowledging this. “And,” he admits, voice going quiet with shame, “I think a little part of me was trying to hurt you back. When I found out you’d been getting serious with him and keeping it from me… that hurt, you not telling me. You and me… we don’t lie to each other, and we don’t keep secrets.”

You scoff. “That’s bullshit, Taehyung. We’ve been doing both for… years.”

The silence stretches between you as he considers the truth of these words. His gaze drops to the ground. 

“I guess you’re right,” he says sadly, like he hates that it’s true. “Things have been fucked up between us for a long time now. And… I’m sorry for that, too. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend - this year, and all these years. I shouldn’t have let you… keep hurting. I think I was lying to myself about… how you felt. If I didn’t address it, if I didn’t technically know, then I didn’t have to do anything about it. And if I didn’t do anything about it, I couldn’t risk doing the wrong thing.”

You take in his explanation, your arms crossed over your chest. It doesn’t make things okay, it doesn’t absolve him. But you can understand. You’d been afraid to rock the boat, too. 

You two should have talked years ago.

“How long have you known?” you ask quietly.

He makes an unhappy noise. “Ah. We don’t have to do that.”

“I just want to know.”

He sighs. “Since high school, I guess?”

You look away, letting out another bitter laugh. “That’s a long time.”

“I guess I thought if I never looked directly at it, then nothing between us would change,” he explains. 

“It had to,” you say firmly. That’s the truest thing you can say right now.

“I know that,” Taehyung says, exhaling. “I know that, now.”

You’re both quiet for a minute. You shiver a little, wonder if Namjoon is okay over at Lin’s house.

“These last two years were hard,” Taehyung says suddenly, like now that he’s opened the tap he can’t stop the flow of words, can’t stop spilling every truth. “I stopped knowing… how to be your friend. I didn't know where the line was - I didn't know what would hurt you, what would mess with your head when I was just being me, just being us.”

“We need new boundaries,” you say quietly. 

He nods, agreeing. “It won’t be easy,” he sighs. “Because… well, it can’t be the same. But I feel like we can figure it out.”

“Should be easier, now,” you observe. Now that he doesn’t need to worry about your heart, you mean. 

He nods, understanding. 

Past the horizon of trees, a burst of fireworks light up above the line of rooftops.

“You have a resolution?” you ask him. 

He nods, sucking on his teeth a little. “Yeah. To… let someone in.”

You turn to look at him, silently waiting as he finishes the thought. 

“We wasted a lot of time,” he says, smile twisting sideways wryly. “You were… y’know… waiting for something that wasn’t coming. And I don’t think I gave anyone else a fair shot either. Just because… she’d have to be my best friend, right? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

You look across the street again. “Yeah,” you say. “Usually that’s how it works.”

“And where would that have left you?” he asks. 

“Yep,” you say flatly, understanding exactly the point he’s trying to make. “That was my problem for a while too, when this started.”

“What I’m saying, though,” he tries again, a little frustrated that his words aren’t doing what he wants, “is that you were the brave one. I was too scared to see what would happen, to see what we could figure out. You gave someone a chance. You had faith that we’d be alright.”

You nod, considering this. “So, are we?” you ask. “Alright?”

He nods. “Can I hug you?” he asks. 

You smile, crooked. “I think that’s allowed,” you joke.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and you lean your head against his chest. “My dummy,” you say affectionately, and his laugh rumbles under your ear. “I missed your stupid ass.”

Then, you step away. “I should go,” you tell him. “Namjoon’s probably looking at my baby pictures and there’s no one in there to stop him.”

Taehyung laughs. “Okay,” he says. “See you back at campus? Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year,” you tell him, as you walk away. 

Friday May 25th 

[3:55 PM] Joon 💕: it’s here [3:55 PM] You: O.O [3:55 PM] Joon 💕: you want me to open it? [3:56 PM] Joon 💕: or should i wait for you to get home? [3:56 PM] You: omg pls open it [3:56 PM] You: just text me yes or no [3:56 PM] You: nothing else. just that. hurry.

[3:58 PM] You: NAMJOON

[3:59 PM] You: i will THROW UP!!!!!!

[4:01 PM] Joon 💕: you got in [4:01 PM] You: SHUT THE FUCK UP [4:01 PM] You: YOU’RE KISDING RIGHT [4:02 PM] You: PROMISE ME YOURE OT LYING [4:03 PM] Joon 💕: lol you think i’d fuck with you over something like this? [4:04 PM] You: no??? But??? Everything is turning black around me??? I think i’m dying??? [4:04 PM] Joon 💕: breathe, babe [4:05 PM] Joon 💕: and come home soon so we can celebrate [4:05 PM] You: be there soon

You call Lin first. She answers on the third ring, groggily, and you’re aware that she must have worked last night and you’ve woken her up. 

You can feel guilty later.

“I got in!” you squeal, and she shrieks so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear. 

“Congratulations!” she’s crowing when you get brave enough to put the phone near your face again. “I told you you would!”

“I know, I know,” you say, breathless with delight. You’d applied for a few grad programs in the area, but your sights were really on a small, private university in the city. Their writing program was renowned, but they only took a small cohort each year. You had felt confident that you’d get into the writing program here, at your current university, with Namjoon, and you’d been right. But it hadn’t been your first choice, not if you were being really honest. 

“We should celebrate,” Lin tells you. “What if I came to campus this weekend? I could take you and Namjoon out to dinner?”

“We’d love that,” you say. “I’ll just double-check that he doesn’t have anything on his schedule but it should be fine.”

“Let me know. And Y/N? I’m really proud of you.”

You’re almost home when you hang up, and you practically skip the rest of the way to the apartment. It’s almost hot out, the late-spring evening promising summer days on the horizon. You take the steps two at a time, ready to get swept up in Namjoon’s arms, ready to share your joy and triumph with him the way you’d once shared your uncertainty.

He delivers; you’re barely through the apartment door when he’s sweeping you into a hug, swinging you around so your living room spins around you. You laugh, delighted, holding on tight. He sets you on your feet, peppering your forehead, cheeks, and lips with playful, sloppy kisses.

“Namjoon!” you protest, laughing. “Let me put my bag down!”

“I can’t,” he murmurs, smiling, lips still against your forehead. “My genius girlfriend got into her dream program. I must kiss her.”

Even as he says this, though, he steps away, allowing you to slide your bag off your shoulder and set it on the floor.

“Did you tell Lin?” he asks. “I texted my mom - she’s so happy for you. She wants us to come visit; she said she’d make your favorite as a celebration.”

“Ooh,” you say. “So many people want to feed me for this. I should get into grad school more often.”

“No one tried to feed you when you got into the mid options,” he points out, eyes glinting playfully. He moves to sit at the breakfast bar, turned sideways in the seat so he can still face you.

“To answer your question,” you say loudly, ignoring his bullshit, “yes, I called Lin. And please tell your mom thank you, and we’ll visit soon.”

Namjoon’s thumbs move as he types. “As much as I love my mom’s cooking, I was thinking tonight we should celebrate just us?”

“Keep talking,” you say slyly, coming up behind him to read over his shoulder as he answers his mother. You lean against his warm, wide back, letting him hold you up for just a moment. Then you wrap your arms around his middle, resting your cheek on his shoulder, waiting as he finishes up. 

He sets his phone down and turns to look over at you. “Want to go out for dinner?”

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, picking your face up from his shoulder so you can see him better. You keep your arms around his, his own little jail cell of affection.

“Somewhere nicer than normal?” he suggests. “Since this is a big deal.”

“How nice?” you push, eyes narrowed.

He smiles at you easily. “The kind of nice where they have you try the wine before they pour it.”

You laugh loudly, finally releasing him. “Wow,” you say. “I might need to pull out some high heels for that shit.”

“You might,” he agrees, his smile turning a little flirtatious. “What do you think?”

“Yeah,” you say, considering. “You want to call and make a reservation somewhere while I go wash my hair?” 

He nods, already reaching for his phone again. “Anything for my genius.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, swatting at the bit of his ass you can reach with him being seated as you pass by, heading for the bathroom. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Impossible,” he calls, as you disappear. 

Later, after you’ve dried your hair, as you sit at your desk with your make-up bag unzipped before you, you wonder if this is news you should tell Taehyung.

Once upon a time, you would have told him first. Back in the fall, even, he would have been the first to know. 

Now, in the five months since you’d reconciled, you and Taehyung don’t talk that much. What used to be several dinners a week on campus is now a meal at the apartment maybe once a month - and never just the two of you. The last time he’d come for dinner, Namjoon had been home, and Jungkook and Hoseok had both joined, too. And that was over a month ago. 

What used to be daily texts about absolutely every stupid, little thing is now maybe a text or two a week - Taehyung’s texts to you mostly consist of dumb memes that make you feel like you’re losing brain cells by looking at them. Your texts to him tend to ask after him - how are you, how’s your mom, did you pass that midterm?

It isn’t like it was before. You feel a little bit like you’re both tiptoeing, teetering in this space between too much and not enough. You’re both pushing the boundaries of your distance, of your time apart, hunting for the edges, looking for the places where the map turns black. To not tell him big news like this seems like a deliberate distancing, not quite the middle ground you’re trying to find.

And besides, Taehyung does know you’ve wanted into this program. You’d talked about it months ago when the application process started, when you’d been choosing your back-ups, talking through your Plan B’s with anyone who would listen. 

You text him - ‘big news’.

[5:52 PM] Taehyung: 🫄?

[5:53 PM] You: i literally fucking hate you kim taehyung!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[5:53 PM] Taehyung: lmaooooo it’s a legitimate question!

[5:54 PM] You: now i’m not telling you! I’ll call your mom and tell her instead!

[5:54 PM] Taehyung: wow. You haven’t used that line on me since we were eight.

[5:55 PM] You: yes and i was very upset with you that time too 😤

[5:57 PM] Taehyung: ok so what’s the news

[5:58 PM] You: ask your mom

[5:58 PM] Taehyung: this is abuse

[5:59 PM] You: ok you crybaby. I got into the good one. I got the letter today

[6:01 PM] Taehyung: yooo congrats!!!!!!

[6:02 PM] Taehyung: i’m so happy for you seriously

[6:03 PM] You: thanks tae 

[6:04 PM] Taehyung: you honestly SHOULD tell my mom lol she’ll cry

–

“So,” you say to Namjoon. His face flickers before you, broken and dancing by the candle flame on the table between you.

“So,” he echoes, leaning back in his seat. The bottle of wine you’d split sits nearly empty next to the flickering candle. And yes, he’d gotten to taste it before it was poured. This place is upscale.

“Do you want to talk about this?” you ask cautiously. “Or should we not tarnish the celebration?”

“Tarnish?” he echoes again, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah,” you say, “I mean… my program’s over an hour from here. We have to talk about that eventually. What it means for us.”

His brows don’t unfurrow, and his mouth slides into a frown. Seconds ago he’d been relaxed, but now he sits up, leaning closer to you. That candle flame flares and settles again, excited about nothing. 

“What it means for us?” he repeats.

“Can you say something that I didn’t say first?” you snap. His eyes widen, and you close yours, deflating. “Sorry,” you say immediately, before you even open your eyes to look at him again. “I’m just… scared about this, I guess.”

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, still frowning, “I didn’t know you were worried about what we’d do. I thought it was obvious.”

“What?” you utter. Sometimes Namjoon does this, has entire conversations or solves problems in his head, forgets to let you in on it. “What did you think?”

He shakes his head, like he can’t believe you didn’t know what was going on in that brain of his, like he forgot you don’t reside in there, too. “I thought we’d just find a place together, in the middle. We could each commute to class about half that distance. It’d be like forty minutes each way, it’s not totally unrealistic. Plus, a lot of the classes are hybrid these days, half the time we’re online…”

Now it’s your turn to frown. “It’s forty minutes by car. Have you looked at the train schedules?”

He looks embarrassed suddenly, not meeting your eyes. 

“Namjoon?” you prompt, suspicious. 

“I…” he says, still not looking at you. “I mean… yeah.”

“Yeah what?” you ask. 

He sighs, caught. But he’s so predictable, this boyfriend of yours. 

“I was looking at what towns are in that area, right in the middle,” he admits. “I checked the trains from there… and some apartments, too.”

“Namjoon!” you scold. “I hadn’t even gotten in yet!”

He gives you a sheepish smile, those dimples shadowed dark in the dimly lit restaurant. “I knew you would, though,” he says, so easily, like it was just a basic truth. “I knew they’d want you.”

You sip at your water to cover how choked up you feel at his absolute faith in you. When you’ve got yourself under control, you set your glass back down and ask, “So, what’d you find?”

“I can get here on light rail,” he says, a little bit of victory slipping onto his face. “Right outside campus, honestly. There’s an express sometimes, too.”

“You don’t think you’ll get tired of that?”

He looks at you seriously. “My choices,” he tells you, voice low, “are to commute by light rail to my grad classes from the place we’ll share, or to learn to drive and buy a damn car so I can drive two hours to you every night from here. Which would you rather I do?”

You stare at him, face slipping into an indignant frown. “Be serious,” you chide.

“I am being so serious,” he tells you. “I’m going to see you every night. I’m going to sleep by your side every night. Those are the options.”

You can’t even look at him; there are times you’re slapped with how undeserving you feel of the love he gives you, how completely he’s made you his world. This is one of those times.

“And for me?” you croak finally. “Is there a light rail option for me to get to my classes?”

He shrugs, which means no. “You’ll need a car,” he admits. 

“I don’t have a car,” you point out needlessly. 

He grins at you across the table. “How’s your credit score?” he asks. 

 Tuesday July 12th

Namjoon locks the padlock on the back of the rental moving truck, ensuring the door won’t open and spill your belongings all over the highway. 

“I think that’s everything,” he says. “Do you want me to check upstairs one last time for anything?”

“Check the closets,” you tell him, and he nods, giving your arm an affectionate squeeze on his way by. As he disappears upstairs, you sit on the bumper of the moving van, desperate to get out of the scorching summer heat. 

A few of the guys, who’d all come to help - and to say goodbye, follow Namjoon inside. Jungkook plops down on the sidewalk, using his bucket hat to fan himself, and Jimin sits next to him, taking a long drink from a sweating water bottle. 

Taehyung sits next to you on the bumper, the van bouncing a little as he does. 

“Hey,” he says. He doesn’t look at you. You’re reminded of sitting side by side on the stone steps that are to your left, past Jungkook and Jimin, the day you’d told him about Namjoon. “I have something to tell you.”

You look over at him, alarmed. His face is drawn, and he chews on his lower lip nervously. 

“Yeah?” you say uneasily. Once, you might have reached for his hand to help ease his apparent nerves. That was Old Boundaries, though. New Boundaries say hands-to-yourselves, except for hugs goodbye.

He licks his lips, eyes on the pavement. He scuffs his sandal along the road, takes a deep breath.

“I got into an art program abroad,” he says finally, all in one breath.

Your eyes go wide. “Taehyung!” you cry. “That’s amazing news! Where? When do you go?”

He looks at you sideways, almost smiling, almost happy. “All the way in Europe,” he admits, laughing a little. “I’m scared out of my mind.”

“Oh my god,” you say, reeling a little. “You’re moving to Europe? How long is it? Is it, like, for school technically, or a job-?”

He considers this, head cocked as he thinks. “Kind of more like an internship with some killer benefits, and education mixed in?” he says. “It’s a little… unorthodox, I think. Anyway… it’s eighteen months… so almost two years.”

“Wow,” you say. “Wow, Taehyung, congrats.”

“Thanks,” he says, almost shyly, back to looking at the ground. “Anyway, I’ll make sure we have dinner or something before I go. I have the rest of the summer here. Just… make sure you call my mom a lot while I’m gone, okay?”

This makes you laugh, knocks you out of your little stupor. It’s just so typical Taehyung, asking you to do his duties for him. “They have phones in Europe, Taehyung,” you point out flatly. “You call your mom.”

Namjoon emerges from the apartment building, followed by Yoongi and Hoseok. Seokjin, a year ahead of Namjoon, had graduated the week prior, had already moved away from campus. “You ready to go?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah,” you say, pulling the truck’s key from your pocket. “You ready, co-pilot?”

He grins at you over the heads of the other guys as you stand, preparing to hug everyone goodbye. “Ready,” he tells you. 

Thursday December 19th

[9:14 PM] You: i have☝️ a question about christmas

Your phone lights up with a facetime call; you should have known Taehyung wouldn’t just text like a normal person.

“Taehyung’s facetiming me,” you inform Namjoon, who’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, scrolling through his own phone. “Don’t say anything questionable.”

“Questionable how?” he asks, as you answer the call.

“Hello, Kim Taehyung,” you say, waving.

“Bonjour,” he says, grinning.

You grimace. “I know I don’t speak French, but… I think your French is pretty bad,” you tell him regretfully.

He rolls his eyes. “Anyway. Christmas. I’m staying here.”

You frown, disappointed. “Really? I know it’s a long flight, but…”

You trail off as a voice behind Taehyung says something. He turns for just a second, murmuring, “Just a second, jagi.”

Namjoon’s head snaps up and his eyes meet yours, comically wide as you both clock it. You bring the phone very close to your face. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, and he looks back at you, eyes equally wide, caught. “Did you just call someone jagi?”

“He did,” Namjoon says. “He absolutely did.”

Taehyung covers his face with a hand, slender fingers obscuring closed eyes.

“Oh, my god,” you say.

“Don’t,” he whines through his fingers. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you demand. “In France?”

“Stop,” he complains. “You’re so annoying.”

“Does your mom know?” you cry. 

“Yah! Enough!”

“I need to know!” you tell him. “I have to know or I will simply combust!”

Taehyung lets out a long, defeated breath, and looks silently at someone off-camera. Then, resigned, eyes on the ceiling, he says, “I’ve sort of been seeing someone here.”

“Sort of,” the someone off-camera scoffs.

You end up talking for almost another hour, both Namjoon and Taehyung’s new girlfriend moving into view as the four of you talk. Taehyung blushes and complains his way through the story of how they met, and she chimes in happily to add how they ended up together. 

You hang up with smiles after telling Taehyung how happy you are for him. And you are - you remember his New Year’s resolution, almost a year ago: to let someone in, finally. It seems - based on the affectionate little touches, the quick, sly glances, the giggles and jokes that you’d just witnessed through your phone screen - that he actually did. 

And, somehow, it doesn’t hurt at all. How could it, when Namjoon slides his hand affectionately up your thigh before he rises from the couch, stretching and yawning as he heads for the bedroom you share?

As you brush your teeth side by side, he asks you around a mouth full of toothpaste, “So, do you want to stick to what we did last year? Christmas with my parents, then New Years with Lin?”

“Sounds good,” you say, sliding your toothbrush back into the holder.

No need to think about it. It’s an easy answer. It’s always an easy answer when it comes to Namjoon. Because wherever he goes, you know you’ll always follow - feet, heart, all of it.

<- Prev

wow wow wow wow wow i can't believe it's over!!!!!! i fully do not know what to do with myself now!!!!!!

thank you all so so so much for going along this journey with me, and waving your pitchforks at taehyung, and putting up with my incessant need to defend his stupid ass, and for just being really incredible readers i love y'all so much :(

I have a Seokjin fic coming sometime in April, a fluffy oneshot called "Sit. Stay."

After that, it might be quite a long time until I post a long series again - fall at the earliest. I was doing okay balancing work and grad school through the fall and in the winter I had some breaks like over Christmas. But to be really honest, since late January it's been really, really hard for me to stay active. If this wasn't written ahead of time, I couldn't have done it. So just... know I'll be back, I have more stories I want to make happen... I hope some of you will wait for me even though I know I hardly deserve it &lt;;3 and i'm really really thankful that you were here at all

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #bts fic #Namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #rm angst #rm smut #rm x reader #strangers to lovers #s2l #college au #roomie au #rm fic #fic: mffmhh #slow burn

[thefallennightmare]

Moment of Weakness-twenty eight

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Author's Note: Get ready, everyone. We've reached the big part of this story. Also, ONLY THREE CHAPTERS LEFT!

Tags(closed): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17 @joannaromanoff @justsebstan @winters1917 @elizacusi-blog @football1921 @elxvrr

The rays of the sun broke through the small opening of the curtains, blanketing warmness over Bucky and I as we laid in bed. I had been awake for a while now, simply staring at him, heart swelling in adoration and love. We’d been sharing a bed the last couple of nights, both needing the sense of security from one another. All we would do was lay in each other's arms, that’s it. Even though we were getting close again, I didn’t want to jump right back into everything until I felt I was ready too. 

Bucky’s hair was falling into his eyes so I gently brushed it away, the urge to kiss his plump lips was unbearable. I leaned on my elbow to stare down at him, a soft snore sounding from his mouth. 

As if he felt me staring, Bucky’s eyes slowly opened with a very large smile appearing on his face when we noticed me staring. 

He snuggled closer to his pillow. “Hm, good morning, doll.” 

“Morning,” I smiled back. 

His vibranium arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer into him. I rested my head against his chest and hooked my leg around his waist, locking him into place. This is what our mornings had been spent the last couple of days before Bucky locked himself in his office at home for the day, trying to find more leads on Clint or Natasha. 

Absolutely nothing. It was as if they dusted away, their lives almost forgotten. 

“Are you busy tonight?” Bucky asked while rubbing my back. 

I couldn't help but snicker at his question. He knew that with the hit on me, I refused to leave the house alone. To be honest, I rarely left his house this past week, not wanting to risk anything. There was no way Bucky would let me leave by myself anyway.

“I think my schedule is open,” I joked with a smile while looking up at him. “Why?” 

“Would you like to go out to dinner with me?” 

My breath caught in my throat. “Like a date?” 

Bucky could feel the way my body tensed in his embrace so he gave my hip a soft squeeze. “Whatever you want to call it; a date or two friends getting dinner.” 

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, debating the offer around in my mind for a few minutes. 

“How about we start it off as friends and see where it goes?” I suggested. 

He smiled, brushing his lips across the top of my head. “As long as you're comfortable, Y/N.” 

My laughter bounced off the small confines of Bucky’s car as he drove us back home, our dinner replaying in my mind over and over. It had been so long since I had someone do everything Bucky did tonight and my heart was swimming. 

It started with him renting a small section of the restaurant for us, him pulling out my chair for me, and the table had a very large bouquet of black roses, my favorite. He already had a set menu for tonight, knowing what I liked, and when we talked he let me talk endlessly as I told him about me; things he didn't know. Not once did he interrupt, only kept his bright eyes on me the entire time. 

Bucky then divulged into his own life growing up and I learned so many things about him that surprised me. Our hands were linked on his lap under the table the entire time, his vibranium thumb pressing light circles on my skin. 

He pulled the car to a stop at a red light then looked over at me. “Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” 

I smiled, my hand resting behind his neck, fingers playing with the end of his hair. 

“Once or twice.”

The car started to move again but I could tell that Bucky was still upset with what happened tonight so I placed my other hand on his knee. 

“You know you could have asked Steve or Sam to hang around. That way you wouldn't be so on edge at some points, "I said. 

“I didn’t like the way the waiter kept staring at you. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t try something,” Bucky said while gripping the wheel a bit too hard. “I can take care of you, Y/N.” 

I bit back a laugh. “It could be the fact that the dress I chose was a bit too short.” 

His eyes were laced with darkness as they quickly grazed over my form, slowly licking his lips. I felt my body ignite under his gaze so I shifted in my seat, the air shifted around us and I suddenly wanted to feel him all over me again.  

We arrived back at his house before I knew it and neither of us made an effort to leave the car, only staring deeply at each other. Our breathing synced as Bucky lifted my chin up towards him. 

“So was this a date?” Bucky’s voice was gentle, quiet. 

I nodded without hesitation. “This was the best date I had been on in a very long time. Thank you, Bucky.” 

“Anything for you, doll,” he breathed over my lips. 

The Bucky that I had been around the last few days was different from the one from months ago. He was more attentive towards me, sweet, and willing to take everything slow. All the anger I felt for him had vanished long ago, my love for him outweighing all the bad. 

I was done taking it slow. 

“Bucky?” My voice husked. 

His shoulders shivered. “Yea?” 

My tongue rolled over my bottom lip, it got caught between my teeth. 

“Did you want-.” 

I was cut off by his phone ringing but Bucky ignored it. “Not important.” 

“Are you sure?” I asked. 

“Doll,” he leaned closer to me. “You’re the only thing that matters to me right now.” 

Without a second thought, I crashed my lips to his and he wasted no time either by lifting me into his lap, the steering wheel digging into my back. I scratched and pulled at his hair, doing whatever I could to deepen the kiss. His tongue tangled with mine and I moaned into his mouth when his vibranium hand squeezed my ass to bring our hips closer together. 

I leaned my head back when Bucky began biting and sucking at the sweet spot of my neck, our movements becoming familiar with each other all over again. He remembered exactly where to touch or kiss that would set me off, in the most euphoric way. 

My name fell from Bucky’s lip when I started to rut my hips into his, trying to scratch that itch I felt almost everyday since we came back into each other's lives. 

“Should we take this inside?” I asked breathlessly from our kiss. 

Bucky didn't answer, only kicked open the car door and carried me inside the house. We were so engrossed with each other that the text message from Baron Zemo, that interrupted us before, went unread. 

“Oh, Bucky,” I moaned, nails scratching and pulling at his hair. 

His moans were swallowed by the lips between my legs, his tongue pressing circles on my sweetest spot. I hooked both of my legs around his neck, almost smothering him. Bucky didn’t complain once, only kept his actions up, moving even faster. 

I lifted my hips up from the bed as my orgasm washed over me without warning and cried out his name over and over again in praise. 

Bucky didn’t bother waiting for the white haze to pass from my eyes before he hooked my leg over his hip and buried his dick between my folds. I clenched around him and he let out the most guttural moan which made my eyes flutter shut. 

“I missed this so,” he slid his dick out but left the tip in.

“Fucking much.” 

With a hard snap of his hips, he began to move them erratically, his pace unforgiving and unruly. It was what exactly I needed, my nails grasping at anything I could reach. The sheets of the bed, the skin of his back. Anything. 

“Bucky,” I breathed. 

He buried his face in my neck. “I miss the way you say my name. The way you touch.” 

I whined at the sudden emptiness as Bucky dragged his soaked cock from me to roll me onto my knees. My ass was raised up towards him, ready for whatever he was about to do. 

A hard smack of skin against skin bounced off the walls in tangent my screams when Bucky smacked my ass. 

He leaned behind me, his warm beath cascading over my ear. “I miss the way you fuck. The way you taste.” 

I pressed back into dick, the precum and my own sweet juices dragging all over the back of my thigh. 

“Please,” I begged. “I need you, Bucky. I need to feel you again.” 

“Doll, you never have to beg me for it. Never again.” 

We shared a moan as he slipped between my folds again. 

Snores filled the room as our sweaty bodies were tangled together, not bothering to cover ourselves with any covers. We had come down from our high a while ago, both of us collapsing to the bed short of breath. Bucky had me locked against his chest, vibranium arm over my stomach. 

Tonight had felt like we never missed a beat, everything between us becoming second nature. The only difference was that Bucky didn’t have to leave; we could stay as long as we wanted together. There wasn’t the lingering regret or shame that we would feel after a night spent together. We didn’t get the chance to talk about us, exhaustion taking over us almost immediately. But there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that things would be different between us. 

For the better. 

That was until the sudden thirst woke me and I let out a small yawn while doing my best to untangle myself from him. 

Bucky whined while gripping me tighter.  “Where are you going?” 

“I’m thirsty,” I giggled. 

He left a kiss on my bare shoulder. “Hurry back. I’ll miss you.” 

I laughed at the tone of his voice and gave him a quick kiss before slipping on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. 

Not bothering to turn on any lights in the kitchen, I rummaged through the fridge in search of something to drink. That was until I felt a strong arm around my throat, yanking me away and tossing me onto the hard, cold ground. My head smacked against the floor as I let out a strangled scream, feeling hands around my throat now. Fear filled my eyes as I looked up and saw a vicious smile looking down at me. 

“Cl-clint?” I choked out. 

“Miss me?” 

Before I could fight against him, he knocked me unconscious with a swift punch to the side of my head.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

[9tzuyu]

reality check

notes: quick vent fic while i work on other stuff sorry :c

warnings: heavily revolved around restrictive eating disorders, alludes to SA, but doesn’t go into detail, natasha not being very understanding (at first), starts in the middle of a fight bc i didn’t know how else to begin the story lol, semi-proofread.

mama!nat x daughter reader

no tags cause of the topic :c

masterlist

. . .

“you know, i would’ve been grateful to have so much food around me when i was younger.” natasha scoffed.

“i just wish you would understand, or at least try to!” you cried out, tears streaming steadily down your face. “it’s not about food, mom. i-i don’t even know what it’s about, but trust me when i say that if i could choose to live without this disorder i would.”

you felt pathetic as you wiped your tears off your face. you’d been arguing with your mother for a good thirty minutes now, something that almost never happened before your issue became known.

“why can’t you just eat the food? tell me, why can’t you? why, y/n? it’s food-”

“i know it’s food!”

“then eat it!” natasha screamed back at you. “i get it, you need to feel in control of something. but why can’t you just control something else-”

“i didn’t choose to have an eating disorder. and it’s not about control, not anymore. i told you, i don’t know what it’s about.” you sighed, heart breaking with each response you gave your mother.

natasha rolled her eyes. “your life has been so easy, i made sure of that. you never once had to deal with any of the shit i did, so why are you doing this to me? how do you think i feel?”

you could help but laugh at your mother.

“how do i think you feel? how do you think i feel, mom? you’re not the one living with this, i am.” you wiped your eyes once more, ignoring the sting that had been caused from the repeated action.

“you preach so publicly about mental health and how important it is. people adore you for it. so why won’t you listen to your own child?”

your mother shook her head, "you should be grateful."

"i am grateful! i'm so grateful for everything you've done for me, so much so that it kills me to know that i can't just stop this. i feel so guilty for it and when you say these... awful things to me it makes me feel so stupid and worse than i already do." you sobbed, pushing yourself further away from your mother until your back hit the headboard of your bed.

"i wish i could think of it as just food. i wish i could eat without feeling so guilty i have to force myself to throw up. i wish that i didn't feel like the only way i'm ever truly good is if i'm empty. i wish i could tell you what happened, but i feel like everything i say and do disappoints you."

natasha took another look at you, one that really stuck with her. she didn't recognize you anymore, you weren't the daughter she'd raised since the tender age of five. you weren't the daughter she knew just a couple of months ago. it truly wasn't until you passed out at school and ended up in the hospital with your diagnosis when everything changed. she didn't know you anymore and it tore her apart.

the more she studied you, the more she noticed how beat down and exhausted you appeared. everything about you was dull and worn out to the point she wasn't sure how much of you was left.

"i'm sorry," natasha finally let out. "i don't understand. i don't think i ever will understand." you went to interrupt her, but she was quicker than you.

"i don't think i can because i've never struggled with an eating disorder, but what i can do is try. you are my child and i love you endlessly. i don't want anything bad to ever happen to you and i'm sorry i wasn't able to protect you from this. i don't want to fight anymore because i don't want to lose you."

your breath caught in the back of your throat as you listened to your mother.

"i want you to be able to come to me when you're struggling. i want to help you get better." she finished off, taking a step towards you before sitting on the edge of your bed.

"but you still think those things, mom. i don't want your help when i know the only thing going through your mind is how selfish and ungrateful i am," you croaked.

"what i said was ignorant and i know i can't take it back, but i'm willing to do whatever it is that i need to get you better."

"well first you have to know it's not about food. i can't 'just eat it' like you want me to. i can't just choose not to have an eating disorder anymore." you snapped uncontrollably.

"okay," natasha nodded. "i believe you."

"i do want to get better, i think. i'm not sure. i know i have a problem but i don't want to accept that i have a problem..." you trailed quietly. "i don't know how to live without it anymore, i can't remember who i was before this."

natasha tilted her head in confusion, "i thought you'd just been struggling for a few months?"

"it's been years, mom. it's a very secretive disorder, i did everything in my power to make sure you didn't know about it. pretty easy to do when you're gone half the time anyway." you shrugged.

"i'm sorry," she admitted.

there was a beat of silence before the two of you spoke again.

"what happened?"

"what do you mean?"

"earlier, you said you wished you could tell me what happened." she pointed out.

"oh." your heart dropped and natasha could see you visibly pale at the thought of having to say what it was.

"is it bad?"

"depends on your definition of bad."

"did someone hurt you?"

"yeah. but it was a long time ago, it doesn't matter now. i'm over it." you lied pathetically.

"it does matter and you're not over it." your mother stated calmly, desperate to keep her voice from cracking.

"i was 14, it was years ago. i don't want to talk about it."

"i can respect that, but you'll have to eventually. doesn't have to be with me, but it'll only get worse the longer you don't deal with it." everything in her was fighting to not demand you tell her the name of who did it. she knew that wouldn't help you, not when you still haven't even processed it.

she felt like a failure of a mother, but this was not about her. it was about you.

"where do you want to go from here?"

"i don't know."

natasha chewed on her bottom lip. "i've missed you."

"do you miss me or who you thought i was?" you questioned, bringing your knees into your chest.

she pondered for a second, "both i guess."

it was a fair answer.

"keeping it a secret from you was the hardest thing i ever had to do."

"so why did you?"

"i wasn't sure how to tell you, let alone when to tell you... and then seeing how you've reacted up until now i'm glad i didn't."

natasha would never tell you how much your words pierced her heart, but it was her own doing. she didn't have much room, if any, to feel sorry for herself.

"what i will say though, is that i miss being curled up into your side with our favorite snacks and desserts while we watched horror movies. i miss spending our mornings arguing over pancakes or waffles, not over if i would eat that day."

the redhead chuckled. "you know for someone who doesn't eat very much you sure have the energy to hold a fight."

"fear will do that to you."

"do you think you'll ever be yourself again?"

you hummed, “i think i’ll be a new version of my old self.”

“i like that answer. i think a lot of people feel like they will never be themselves again after traumatic events. i know i never felt like i could.” natasha spoke, her eyes meeting yours.

for the first time in awhile you didn’t feel like you were disappointing her.

“i used to think like that, but i don’t anymore because you don’t have to lose yourself completely. you don’t have to start over by completely erasing who you once were. i’d like to believe that i can still cherish those parts of me before they were tainted.”

natasha smiled for the first time that day. “you’re completely right.”

“before you get too happy i want you to remember that just because we’re having a good moment now doesn’t mean we won’t have more days like earlier.” you reminded her.

it hurt to see her face fall, but you were right.

your mother needed to remember that this wouldn’t be going away quickly or any time soon. but if she keeps her word and tries to do better than before, you knew there was a better chance at healing.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #mama!nat #black widow x reader

[autisticlancemcclain]

The end of this Skype meeting from hell was rapidly approaching, and Shiro was so close to relief he could taste it.

The team was attempting alliance negotiations with a new planet, but the entire planet was so incredibly toxic to Alteans that they felt it may be best to just have their meeting over a video communications link. Was it as shitty quality as a Skype call? God, no. The quality was incredible, Shiro could probably count every visible pore on the Queen’s face. But the plastic smiles and unbearable tension known of office-style Skype calls were evident, so Shiro was going to continue calling it a Skype in his head. The ‘from hell’ part of the description was due to the discomfort crawling up everyone’s throat — this Queen in particular was known to be temperamental and easy to offend, so everyone was walking on eggshells.

“Well, I believe that everything is in order,” said the Queen. Finally.

Some of the tension bled from Allura’s shoulders, and her smile turned genuine.

“Excellent! I’ll send you the forms —”

“One last thing,” interrupted the Queen. Allura’s smile froze, and her eye twitched. There was quite possibly nothing she hated more than being interrupted, and there wasn’t even anything she could do about it.

“Of course,” Allura replied through gritted teeth.

“Wonderful,” went the Queen, equally as passive aggressive.

Not for the first time, Shiro wished Adam was here. He was the master of passive aggression. He would have this bitch beat in minutes.

“Paladin Hunk,” continued the Queen, turning her gaze on the Yellow Paladin, who jumped slightly upon being called so abruptly but schooled his expression into a pleasant one.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I’ve heard you are quite the culinary master. Many of my people had the pleasure of tasting your food at Vrepit Sal’s, and have spoken endlessly of how you turned his food from failed embarrassments to pure edible pleasure.”

Hunk smiled, clearly pleased that his efforts were so widely recognized. Some of the wariness lifted from his features. “That’s very kind of them to say.”

The Queen nodded. “Yes. I figured since you are so knowledgeable, you may be able to help me with a problem of mine. My —” her lip curled — “stepson has insisted that we each take turns cooking ‘family’ dinners ourselves instead of hiring a cook. I can’t fathom why the foolish child would ever want such a thing, but my husband insists we indulge him, and I’ve never had to bother with such petty tasks myself before, so my first attempt was a disaster,” she huffs, shaking her head. “I had to force the ingrate to eat it because he insisted on me making it, but he complained the whole time it was too salty. And so my question for you: how can I fix a dish when it is too salty?”

Hunk’s face had completely soured, and his wasn’t the only one. Hearing this already entitled and rude Queen speak so horribly about her young stepson was hard to hear, and made it very difficult to want to help her or her planet.

Hunk paused before answering, face flat and judgemental. “Start over,” he said drily.

Shiro choked. The Queen’s — now furious — face whipped towards him, and Shiro clapped a hand in front of his mouth.

Fuck fuck fuck. Think of unfunny things. Uh, Iverson’s constant stories of his summer in Italy when he was 14. Nuclear physics. Literally anything but the sound of Lance losing his shit or you’re going to lose it too. You have a reputation, dingus, please please focus.

With the strength of a thousand suns, Shiro managed to choke down his laughter, despite the shaking shoulders and rapidly reddening faces of the rest of the team.

“So sorry about that,” Shiro said, voice shaking. “Tickle, in my throat. Ahem. Shall we send you the forms?”

The Queen glared at them, taking a moment to glare at Hunk specifically. He looked entirely unbothered, pretending to check his nails. Lance was a mess of desperately held-in giggles on the floor next to him. Keith was turning purple with the attempt to keep his mouth shut. Pidge had completely given up and turned so her back faced the Queen, fist shoved in her mouth.

“Fine,” the Queen spat. “I’ve tired of Voltron’s blatant disregard for professionalism, anyway. And to think the maturity and grace of that Black Paladin is talked about at every interplanetary gala. Phooey. Send the forms to my handmaidens.”

The Skype ended.

There was a beat of silence.

Shiro glanced at Allura. Their eyes met for one half second.

Shiro lost it. Completely bent over at the waist, wheezing, barely able to breathe. Over the sound of his own laughter he heard Allura giggling as well, along with the rest of the team. Hunk surveyed them all, smirking like the cat that got the cream.

Shiro doesn’t know what he’s gonna do with these damn kids.

———

more of shiro being a loveable loser here

#i think this is funny so #vld #voltron #shiro #takashi shirogane #hunk #hunk garrett #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #allura #princess allura #pidge #pidge holt #space dad shiro #dad shiro #big brother shiro #humour #team shenanigans #team as family #my writing #fic fragment

[miarenmert]

The Ballads of Nocturnal Fairies (pt.4)

“Lady of the Ruins”

The rustle of leaves faded.

The white silhouette flashed.

In the ruins of overgrown houses

From the roof the girl jumped.

She wasn't under the rubble,

Her laughter rose higher.

She had the special power,

And waved from another roof.

The house hasn't collapsed yet

For a long time I ran to her.

Climbing on bent scaffolding,

But I didn't find her there.

Sitting on the crumbling balcony

I was holding on to the thin trees.

In the next earthquake

I saw her face again.

She jumped over buildings,

Effortlessly and nimbly,

Out of sight in the greenery,

While I was looking for her.

May the lady of ruin be treacherous,

But she loved playing with me.

I believe that my last ploy

Won't leave me to die.

“Convoy across the desert”

Even before we were sent to a distant battle,

My humble village has long made me worry.

Everyone around only glorified military exploits,

And they completely forgot what wasn’t worth it.

I didn't want to go with them, but I was alone.

If they had listened to me, they wouldn't be trapped.

In unity and numbers we were given strength,

With women's wisdom we would protect each other.

There's a stop in the desert – I stepped off the train

And met a fairy who asked me to dance.

So I twirled with her in the sands by the platform.

For the last time I forgot that I would have to fight.

She bestowed on me the hypnotic frames,

Those whom I led through became peaceful.

So I turned all the soldiers into zombies,

But the real zombies they were before me.

Every day I had to bewitch them again,

Every day they came to their senses earlier.

I was ready to repeat everything endlessly,

But soon my artifact lost power over them.

I listened with anguish as they discussed the explosion,

When giant spiders got into battle on the rails.

That nothing will stop the train, they let me know.

But now I'm convinced how powerful my fairy is.

“Changeling in the nursery”

I helped in the nursery, read books to children

They cried the day the fairy queen came to them

She said she would leave her useless child with us.

A lanky, hooded fairy with darkness instead of a face.

Like a barely noticeable shadow she slid through the room,

We tried in vain to involve her in activities.

The fairy queen demanded to make this nonentity smart.

I didn't think like her, and this matter was entrusted to me.

I sat next to her knowing her real mind was invisible.

She bent over the poems, forgetting about everything.

I knew well the love for silence and solitude, but didn’t say

How wrong her mother was, so as not to scare her away

That her true life is inside, I was trying to say,

While nervous words were whispered incorrectly.

She asked if I spoke with mouth full of roses,

Quoted the unspoken words in poetry.

I wasn’t happy with the result for long, we were interrupted

By those who wanted us to write down those fair poems.

The embarrassed fairy could not repeat them again,

And I blamed myself for not remembering either.

She never appeared in our nursery again.

I wondered what the fairy queen's threat was.

Now only a shadow remains of the mysterious fairy,

I still see her in the golden stains of the moon.

“Two sorceresses”

I lived in an abandoned temple as a renegade sorceress.

I was friends with a dragon that could turn into stone.

At night we snuck into the new temple to visit a neophyte,

Whose magic I wanted to secretly devour.

In the guise of stone I merged with the stairs of dragons,

Waiting for a bronze-skinned student in the hallway.

She took me for a priestess of the highest powers,

Who I was before I was exiled from the temple.

I said I feel the succubus in her powers,

Said that I see her desire to kill.

With an ingenuous smile she objected to me,

But couldn’t refuse an invitation to drink.

I slipped her pills that reveal the true nature,

And with conversations provoked her to cast spells.

All she had to do was sneeze to dispel the magic.

She could easily turn my spells into dust.

Returning to the dragon, I spoke about my failure

And passionately assured that I would not give up.

The neophyte turned out to be an empath who didn't kill.

With this knowledge I will return to her again.

#the ballads of nocturnal fairies #fair folk #fae #fantasy #sapphic #poetry #dark romance #illustration #dreams

[sachiko1309]

The good old Doc - Part 12

Missed the start? No problem, here is the first part, the following ones are always linked at the end, so you dont have to search endlessly. 😉

Summary: Lieutenant Lilith Adams enlisted back in the military, only to be met with a certain cocky pilot. Overcoming certain past traumas, she tries to fit in with the team of pilots as their personal medic. Soon finding her stuck between a certain good looking aviator and her work morals.

This is a series which is currently in the making, so I don’t exactly know how long it is going to be. 😊

Word count: 2591

Warnings: a little talk about the general rules/pace of their relationship (kinky if you squeeze your eyes)

When he came back, I was already putting a bathing bomb in the water, watching it dissolve in light purple streams. He handed me a glass of water, holding out a variation of snack bars. I took the glass of water with shaky hands, downing half of it, before I put it down and turned my attention back to him. “So, what do you want to tell me?” I asked, sinking into the hot water. My head fell back, once I was fully submerged. With half closed eyes I watched him, patting the water to invite him in. Jake shook his head, stepping into the shower. “Thank you, darlin. But I would rather cool off than cook myself to death.” I grumbled at his words, snatching a snack bar from the counter, and opening it.

Watching him shower, I ate my food, not exactly sure, what I wanted to ask him. “You are experienced in that kind of stuff.” I said.

“I am. Yes.” He answered, staring back at me. “You don’t know what you want to ask, do you?” He smiled softly, turning off the shower. “Okay… how do I start that without me sounding like a total weirdo… Well, as you might have figured out, I like to be in charge in the bedroom. I like it, when women submit to my command, letting me take care of them. It gives me a sort of confirmation I cant quite put a finger on.”

“So, you want me to submit to you?” I asked curious of where this talk was going. Jake tilted his head. “Yes and no. I have the desire to dominate you, own you, yes. But I don’t want to force it on you.”

“Does this thing you like to do extend outside of the bedroom?” Scrunching my nose, I watched him put on a new pair of boxers. He sat down on the edge of the tub, stroking my cheeks. “Only if you would allow it, darlin. I wont do anything that you don’t want. But yes, it can. It can be whatever we want, or nothing at all.”

I leaned into his touch, thinking about his words. It sounded interesting, filthy, a little secret between us. But it also scared me. All my life growing up, I was supposed to be strong, told to bow to no man. And yet, here I was. Craving the possession Jake showed in little glimpses of what he was doing, the way he ruled over my body, the way he stepped up for me, putting an undeniable claim on me.

“I… I don’t know what to do.” I answered honestly. “I want to try it. But I also don’t want other people to look down on me, because you do.”

“Darlin, no.” He interrupted me. “I do not look down on you. That’s not how these things work. Yes, there can be degradation involved, but it doesn’t need to be. We don’t need to act it out in public at all, if you don’t want to. You submitting to me, would not make you less of a human. Rather the opposite. You giving yourself to me, trusting me… That’s everything. I want to care for you, protect you, worship you the way you deserve.”

His words had me thinking. Something in my head told me, that I already heard about stuff like that. “So, you are some kind of Christian Grey, just in uniform and hotter?” I asked, cocking my head playfully. He laughed at my words, putting a strand of hair behind my ear. “BDSM is way more, than that book lets on. I would even go so far, to say that fifty shades of grey does a horrible job of describing the interaction between a sub and a dom. But yes, it is kind of what I am. Without the insane amount of money, trust issues and manipulation of course.”

“Okey.” I said after a while. “I want to try it. But I don’t want it to interfere with work. As soon as our relationship would be public, I will already lose my reputation. I don’t need people to have another reason to go after me.”

“Of course, darlin. We will find our pace and make our own rules. What else?” Jake nodded, helping me out of the tub, when I reached out for him. “I want to take it slow. Start with you being in charge in the bedroom and then see how far I want to have it in my life. You can be possessive in public, if someone hits on me or harasses me, but I don’t want you to talk over me, dictate what I wear or what I do. The team can know about it, but I don’t want to have a big announcement. If they suspect things and ask, we answer honestly, but nothing more.”

“Noted.” He said, handing me a towel. “Anything else?”

I thought for a moment. “Not that I can think of now. Regarding the sex, I am not as experienced. Compared to you, my exes were rather narrow minded and boring, so if you want to try something new, I want to know beforehand and speak about it. Other than that, I think that’s all. At least as far as I can think of.”

“That’s more than I could ask of you.” He murmured against my ear, pulling me into a tight hug. “Thank you, darlin. I promise all I want for you is to feel save and loved. And I am so proud of you for trying it with me.”

I snuggled into his embrace. “Is it possible you have a slight praise kink?”

Smiling at me through the mirror he gave me a small kiss. “Only for you, sweet cheeks.”

The next morning, I woke up being buried between Jake and the blankets of my bed.  I reached for my phone, looking at the time. 10am. That’s not too bad. Then I saw a message in the group chat from Rooster: Anyone down for some beach time?

The team already agreed to it, so I nudged Jake awake. “Wake up. The team wants to go to the beach. You in or not?” “M in.” He mumbled, tugging me even closer. I typed our answer, asking when the squad was ready to meet. To my surprise, Rooster sent a picture of them already playing Volleyball in front of the hard deck. “Come on, Jake. They are already at the beach.” I said, shuffling out from underneath him. When I stepped in the bathroom, I gasped at my appearance. My whole upper body was covered in bruises and bite marks. Jake now leaning against the doorframe smiled proudly.

“What the fuck, Jake! I cant go out like that!” I yelped, twisting and turning while inspecting the way I looked. He just chuckled. “You can. Nobody will mind.”

“They will make fun of me. Of us.” I squeaked, hiding behind my hands. I felt him come up to me, hugging me. “They will do that either way. But if you really don’t want to, we don’t have to go, darlin. Even though I don’t mind showing off my legacy.” He grinned cockily. I punched him jokingly. “Your legacy? You are such a dick!” He just laughed at me. “If I remember correctly, you quite like my dick.”

“Jacob Seresin!” I yelled hunting him back into my bedroom. Tackling him into the sheets I started a pillow fight, which I quickly lost. Now out of breath and pinned down I smiled at him. “God, I love you…” He said, kissing me softly. As soon as his lips connected to mine, I gave up the fight I put up. Melting into his touch, the beach already forgotten. To my dismay he ended the kiss, making me huff in annoyance. Pulling me from the bed, he just chuckled: “Come on, we need to get ready. Breakfast on the way?”

Now dressed in a skimpy excuse of a bikini, a beach dress thrown over me, I sat in his Pick-up, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other. Jake had dug through my closet of course choosing the most revealing thing he could find. Generally speaking, I didn’t mind showing off my body, but normally I didn’t look like a purple version of a leopard.

We reached the beach and I waited for Jake to open the door for me. I tried to do it myself back at the coffee shop, earning a grumpy huff and another lecture of how he is supposed to do it for me. Jake had already taken off his shirt and stuffed it in our bag. Then he slung the bag over his shoulder, taking his coffee in one hand, offering me the other. When we walked to the beach, I let my eyes wander over his back. Proudly noting, that I wasn’t the only one with marks on my body. On either shoulder he had claw marks and crescent indents. I touched one red stripe with the outstretched finger of my hand, causing him to his and roll his shoulders. “Sorry…” I mumbled, head hanging low. He just shrugged it off, turning around. “Don’t be, darlin. It looks worse than it feels.” Offering me a crooked smile.

“Still. I kinda feel bad for it.” Emptying my cup I threw it in the nearest bin, not daring to look him in the eyes. Now that my hands were empty, I crossed them before my chest, playing with the hem of my sleeves. “Why would you feel bad for it? If I had a problem with it, do you really think I would have let you do it?” Jake asked, leaning against the sign with the beach rules. I shook my head. “No, but my exes always made a fuss about it. Saying it was childish and insecure, since I would not trust them and therefore mark them up for other women to know.”

“You’re joking.” He let out, blinking rapidly at my statement.

“Unfortunately, not.” I said through gritted teeth.

Jake took a deep breath, then he smiled my favorite cocky grin. “Good thing you are with a real man now. I cant believe they would scold you for simply enjoying sex. They should be pleased to have gotten marks. I am. It just shows how good I am at fucking your brain out.”

“Jake!” I whisper yelled, looking around like he just dropped the biggest secret of the United States.

“Oh, come on, darlin. Stop being so uptight. Nobody gives a shit about it. And if they do, they can answer to me. Don’t think about it too much and enjoy life a little more. Otherwise, you will soon look older than I do.” He nudged me playfully in the side. I just raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call me old?”

“No?” He slowly asked, trying to figure out my expressions. Deciding to tease him further, I put on a sour dace. “I think that’s just what you did.” He reached out for me, but I stepped around him, walking over to where I saw the team, avoiding his touch. “Darlin, you know how I meant it. Please come back.” Jake came running after me, a slight whine in his voice. I fought hard to suppress a smile, when I turned around. “Fifty kisses, or I will break up with you.”

Jake stopped midway over to me, finally realizing, I messed with him. “You are such a…” Not finishing his sentence, he chased after me. Quickly I turned around, racing down the stairs towards the other, giggling and screaming like a maniac. My sudden appearance while running away from Jake, caused the team to turn heads. “Protect me, Rooster! He is out of his mind!” I yelled, jumping behind Bradleys back. He just stood there still processing what was going on. Jake on the other hand, threw his bag roughly in the direction of the sunshades, rounding Rooster. He was making ground with every meter I ran, quickly scooping me up and throwing me over his shoulder. I screamed and tried to wriggle out of his hold, but it was impossible. He had a strong grip around my waist, visibly not impaired by my fist pounding against his back.

My fight only got harder, when I realized he was making his way towards the ocean. When he stood hip deep in the waves, he pulled me from his back, holding me bridal style over the waves. “What do you say for messing with me?” He asked, smiling down at me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to get away from the cold water. “I am sorry! I didn’t mean to mess with you. Please let me down!”

“Oh you want to be let down?” I could feel him loosening his hold on me. I squirmed: “No! Not like that!” But it was already to late. With a loud splash I landed in the water, fully submerging, because I wasn’t prepared for the fall. When I got up, Jake was still standing in front of me, laughing uncontrollably at my soaked appearance. “You will pay for that, Seresin! Trust me, I will get you wet as well.”

He just hummed in pleasure, stepping closer to me and pulling me up in his arms. I was clinging to his body wrapping my legs around his waist. “Hmm. I cant think of a way I want to get soaked by you.” I groaned at his words, but the smile creeping up my cheeks betrayed me. “You are such a filthy minded, cocky idiot.”

“Yeah, I am. But I am your idiot and you like it that way.” He murmured, pulling my face in for a kiss. I let myself fall into his embrace, giving in to his warm hands, squeezing my ass, his tongue forcing itself through my lips.

What I didn’t think about, was the fact, that Jake would let himself fall back, pulling us both under water again. Startled, I pushed him down, on my way to get up. When I came back up, I was coughing, spitting out water. “I hate you!” I let out between harsh breaths and wiping away my hair. It was impossible to manage it, so I leaned back, wetting it and raising my head again for my hair to slick back. I probably looked like a drowned rat at this point with my hair, glued to my head and the beach dress sticking to my body, but I didn’t care. Walking out the water I made my way to the team. Phoenix was the first to greet me. She already set up my towel next to hers under the shade. Handing me a cold bottle of water. “Jake being an ass again?” She asked with a grin on her face. Looking behind me, I watched my boyfriend walk over to us.

His tanned and muscular body was glistening in the sunlight. Water droplets running down his toned chest, his abs before dripping of his shorts. His hair was slightly darker, giving his green eyes a different shade in which I was about to get lost. Fuck he looked hot like that. My mind started wandering to what I wanted him to do looking like that… Phoenix giggling ripped me out of my daydream. I quickly looked away to hide my blush. “He is excused for looking like that.”

“I am sure he is…”

I needed to put it in again... He just looks too hot to not do it... 🥰😅

#hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #top gun

[missnight0wl]

I love you

A late Valentine’s gift for myself.

Disclaimer: Proceed on your own responsibility. While there’s nothing descriptive and it’s not much more explicit than saying: “They autonomously chose to woohoo in the shower”, some things are implied, and if you know, you know. So… you know. But other than that, it’s mostly Jacob being just endlessly in love with Patricia!

Words: 1000

1995

Patricia’s body tautens under Jacob and her back arches, bringing them even closer to each other. When she relaxes, she laughs softly. Jacob looks at her flushed face lovingly, trying to catch a breath himself. He kisses her lips tenderly.

“I love your laugh,” he whispers, almost resting on her forehead.

Patricia cups his face and caresses his cheek. “What else you love about me?” she asks with a bright smile.

This time, he laughs. He casts his gaze down her body, lit by the warm glow of candles, and then he looks back into her eyes. “I love the way you radiate when you’re being admired,” he says and moves a strand of hair from her brow. “I love how your hair looks gold in the sunlight. I love your eyes and your lips,” he continues attentively. “I love your hands…” As he says it, he takes her hand and moves it from his cheek to his mouth. He kisses the inside of her palm and turns the hand to kiss its back. “… and I love your scars. Especially…” He pulls back and looks at her body again, stroking it gently. Then he kisses a small narrow scar above her right breast. “… this one.”

“That’s not the one you chose the last time,” Patricia interrupts him, amused.

“Really?” he pretends to be surprised, slowly moving down her body. “Well, I can’t make up my mind.” He ponders for a short moment. “And I love how you shiver when I kiss you… right…” He pauses to kiss the spot under her belly button. “… here.”

Patricia trembles briefly and then stretches with a blissful smile. “Come back here,” she purrs.

Jacob is about to fulfil her order when he stops by a scar on her ribs. “Hey, I remember now!” he says. “This is the scar I chose the last time, isn’t it?”

“No,” Patricia replies with a chuckle. “It was before the last time.”

“Oh… Well, my memory is getting quite bad then. I guess I’ll have to discover all of them again one day. Remind me where this one is from?”

Patricia looks at him, smirking. “From the chapel in York and St Oswlad’s dagger,” she explains casually.

“Ah, yes…”

He leans over her one more time and kisses her neck. Her skin smells of cinnamon. He wanders to kiss her lips, gently at first, but then it turns more passionate. Eventually, he gets up from the bed and goes to the bathroom for a wet towel. He cleans himself up and goes back to clean Patricia. After he’s done, he kisses the inner sides of her tights and finally lies next to her. He closes his eyes, keeping his hand on her waist. He’s pleasantly tired. However, Patricia soon turns to the side to face him.

“What else?” she asks flirtatiously.

He looks at her lazily. “Hm?”

Her eyes twinkle, and she smiles broadly. “What else do you love about me?” she repeats her question.

Jacob laughs lightly once more. “Oh, you want me to list everything? Then we’ll be up until morning.”

“I don’t mind.”

Jacob lifts himself up and rests on his elbow. Patricia turns on her back as he leans to kiss her. He caresses her cheek and watches her lingeringly.

“I love your summer freckles,” he says at last, kissing her nose. “I love when your accent slips momentarily into Irish. I love the voice you make when you talk to Sickleworth and think I don’t listen.”

“I know when you listen,” she cuts in, teasingly.

“Not always…” he replies softly and takes a break. He kisses her lips before going on. “I love the little line on your forehead when you’re focused. I love the way your mind works and how you change everything around you.” Patricia’s expression is less playful now, but she still smiles and listens to him carefully. “I love the fire of your soul… I love that you could easily both burn the world and heal it. I love how pure your heart can be and the surprised look on your face every time you realise it yourself.” He stops to hold a chuckle because he notices in her eye the very sparkle he’s just talking about. “I love you for the life you gave me back,” he adds after a while, more quietly and thoughtfully.

She beams and tilts her head ever so slightly. “You’re getting soppy, Pussycat.”

“How could I not?”

He leans for another kiss, and she sinks her fingers in his hair. He feels blissful, and he could stay in this state forever. He pulls away to give her a better look, wondering if he could be any happier.

“Jacob?” Patricia finally speaks tenderly and pauses for a second, fondling his face. “I love you.”

She sounds calm and warm. Her eyes are brighter, and she smiles serenely. Jacob didn’t expect it’s even possible, but he’s certain now that she looks more beautiful than ever before. And even though he feels like his heart is about to explode in his chest, he tries to appear as casual as he can when he’s able to talk eventually.

“I know,” he says with a mischievous smirk.

Patricia’s eyes widen, and she laughs loudly. “You can’t use my lines against me!”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Huh, I’m pretty sure I can do whatever I want...”

“No!” she denies firmly.

It makes him laugh as well, but he feigns outrage. “No?!”

She gazes at him daringly. “Not if I say so!”

“Ah, I see…” He slowly gets closer to her lips and hangs on in the last moment to tease her, yet Patricia pulls him in. They both smile between kisses. “I love you too,” Jacob murmurs at last.

“I know,” she whispers back.

#long post #jackepick #jacob x patricia #jacob ellis #patricia rakepick #my writing

[imhereforscm]

hi. This might be a bit weird. But can you write human Tauxolouve x goddess MC fic?

Like goddess MC's husband cheated on her. So to clear her mind, she went on a vacation to earth( for a month) and met Tauxolouve. They both fell in love. But MC had to return to heaven. Years later after Tauxolouve's death , he was granted permission to enter heaven as a God. Then he got married to the MC, and they lived happily.

▪︎MC had already divorced her cheating husband before meeting Tauxolouve.

Please add a lot of fluff, angst and emotion.💗

I hope this makes sense.😅

"Two different worlds" Part 1

Genre: angst/fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: I will make a 2nd part of this, because I wanted to focus thoroughly on the feelings and ideas this request has brought me☺️🌷

A tear streamed down your face and your fingers turned cold, your heart stinging as if stabbed with an old and rusted dagger.

"You're... Back earlier than usual." He dared to say and his voice sounded like poison flowing through your veins and he was the snake who bit into your skin. He hurried to cover himself up with the bedsheets, as the goddess lazily got out of bed, not seeming to care one bit for your destroyed state.

"I came earlier, yes." Your voice came out broken, barely managing to get squeezed out of your throat. "And I interrupted as it seems."

He didn't speak—luckily, because your heart was already carrying too much to have his pointless excuses on top. With his cold, unfeeling eyes, it was clear to you as it was to the two of them as well, that he didn't feel anything. No pain, guilt or even shame.

You on the other hand felt everything with every fiber of your being. Your pulse was pounding and your lower lip was quivering, a little reddish from all the biting as you tried to keep it together, but to no avail. The tears streamed endlessly and your voice chords twisted uncomfortably, your ears buzzing with his very voice in your ears. A voice you would've never thought could ever bring you such pain.

"Honey-" His words were cut short, his eyes opening widely and his eyelashes standing on attention by your harsh slap.

"Don't use that word anymore!" You shook your head, disgusted to even touch him. "Not with me. You don't even deserve to say my name..." Your voice fell poisonously.

The door clicked shut behind the two of you, the goddess back in her crimson and gold gown leaving with a triumphant grin on her face. Happy to win and be chosen, even if she planted seeds of ruin on her path.

You wrapped your hands around your waist, leaning your back again the wall and sobbing silently. "Leave."

"You don't mean-"

"I refuse to let a man as filthy as you to remain by my side!" You pierced him with your stare and walked to the door, turning the doorknob and pulling it open. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"And what are you going to do without me?" He scoffed arrogantly, slipping his clothes back on, your heart cracking into a million pieces at the sight of him so insensitive and rage boiling in your ribcage at the impression he had of you.

"If you're think I married you because I needed benefit from you, you're incredibly mistaken." You spoke, struggling to keep your voice even. "I chose you because I loved you, but that doesn't mean I will allow you to treat me with such disrespect." You stated with your head high, even though you were visibly hurting. "I deserve better and even if it hurts for a long time..." You swallowed thickly and narrowed your eyes at him, your eyebrows furrowing. "I'll find my happiness again and I hope I won't make such a mistake this time."

He started walking towards the door and your heart pounded in your ears violently as he came closer to you. "I felt pity for you and I tried to raise your social status with our marriage, but you don't seem to appreciate any of that."

You inhaled sharply at the audacity to pretend to be your savior and accuse you for lack of gratitude, your grip tightening around the doorknob so much the silver dug into your skin and you could feel the marks forming. You pulled the wedding ring out of your hand and chuck it at him, hitting him in the chest, before he caught it. "Maybe you can give that to the next fool to trust you." And with those words, you pushed him out of the door, throwing him out of the house, before you shut the door hard and crouched down on the floor, hugging yourself as you cried, alone in the house you were supposed to be sharing, while you cried or laughed together as one.

--

Dipping your quill into the bottle of black ink, you brought the tip down to the sheet of paper before you, your wrist moving across the white space solemnly out of sheer habit, your thoughts elsewhere, still trying to piece together your life after three weeks of heartbreak and divorce.

Someone cleared his throat and this is when you noticed the male figure looming over you.

Your eyes widened momentarily and you hurried to leave your quill down and straighten your back at the presence of your superior. "How can I help you." You looked up at Leon from your chair behind your desk.

Leon gave you a pointed look for some seconds, before staring lower.

You followed his gaze and you gasped at seeing the black stain, dripping over the letters of your document, the amount of ink causing the paper to soak and rip a hole. "Oh, Heavens, my apologies for... For this...!" You muttered out, frustrated as you snapped your fingers, cleaning off the mess of black ink.

"I knew something was up." Leon sighed, placing a stack of papers in front of you. "There are errors."

"Oh," You shook your head gently, as if trying to throw the awakened thoughts into a distant corner. "I will fix them immediately." You reached for the papers, but Leon took a step back, getting them out of reach for you. You stared up at him confused and he clicked his tongue twice in disapproval.

"You're a mess."

"Excuse me?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his choice of words.

"You're still depressed about what happened, aren't you?" He asked, quietly and discreetly so any passing deities couldn't hear you and bring your private drama into the spotlight.

"Recovering is not the easiest..." You said, fidgeting with your fingers and sighing through your nose.

Leon wanted to lecture you. Tell you about his pessimistic belief of love and its supposed, to him, existence. How it brought both humans and gods to ruin. But he bit on his tongue and kept the thoughts to himself... He knew you had your own beliefs and you followed them loyally. You were fiercely opinionated and didn't let anyone treat you like a fool. And that's why, even though he didn't voice it, he apprecieted you. "Well, I can't have you working like this."

"And what do you want me to do?" You asked, sighing at your own self more than anything.

"That's up to you, just don't cause me any problems." He said. "Some time off work may be helpful."

You eyed his back as he walked off, returning to the department of wishes and the wheels started turning in your head. Leon's idea seemed to be one of his good ones.

---

Two days passed and you found the top of your head basking into the sunlight of Paris, after the king's permission. You wandered around the populated streets and breathed into the wide variety of scents, while you mixed into the humans as if you were one of them.

You would occasionally look down at your clothes, chuckling to yourself at how odd they felt on your body, after being used to the clothing of the Heavens.

On your way, your attention was drawn to a pyramid made out of glass and your soles came to a halt, as you admired this strange, but undeniably stunning work of humans.

A woman walked passed you and you called out to her. "Is this the... Lourve?" You recalled the name of the museum from a wishes list you had received some time ago.

"Yeah?" She responded, seeming to be implying that it was way too obvious for something like that to be asked, judging by the tone of her voice and her raised eyebrow.

Perhaps, it was—for humans though.

Making your way inside, your jaw dropped and sparks lit up your irises at the huge space inside the museum, filled with paintings, sculptures and all the forms of art had left you breathless.

You stood close to a painting hanging from the wall, your eyes analyzing every corner of it. From the figures to the colours, the clothes and even the weather. Your attention didn't miss a single detail.

A shadow fell upon you and from the corner of your eye, you saw a man standing on your right. He was tall and looking closely, his profile was of excellence.

Spotting you, the man shifted his head to your direction. "Can I help you, miss?" A gentlemanly smile spread across his lips.

"Oh, uh..." You shook your head negatively. "No, thank you." You tried to get back to the painting, but your eyes, as if having decided to follow their own plans, refused to leave the man's face.

His eyes were thin and his face square, the gentle features of his face balanced the hardness of his shape and that created a balance so captivating to your eyes.

He chuckled and you internally cursed yourself, realising you were staring again. "If you want some of my time, I'd be happy to give you as much as you want." He smiled at you with flirtation in his gaze. "A beautiful girl like yourself deserves it."

Your eyebrows rose at the sound of those words. You appreciated his compliment, but you didn't know how to respond. You weren't human like him, what were you supposed to do with him? Talk about what? Ask him about what?

"You know," Still smiling at you, he continued. "your beauty could find place in here."

TBC

#scm #star crossed myth #scm tauxolouve #fanfic scm #scm fanfic

[masterwords]

the silence drowns (part fourteen)

Summary: Morgan interrupted Foyet in Hotch’s apartment and saw everything. Now Hotch is staying with Jessica, Morgan is trying to figure out how to save the day and Foyet is on the road.

Warnings: Here we go guys, the bloodbath I promised. Lots of violence. Blood, gore, it's brutal. Seriously mind the warning...

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3.4k

Notes: If you like to end on a bleak note, this could be it. I'll be doing one more, a sort of epilogue because I love myself some aftermath...but that's up to you. I planned this to be a one shot and it spiraled, we shouldn't be surprised at how far we've come.

Chapter List

Read on AO3: The Silence Drowns

**

The bathroom still smelled like lavender and vanilla bubble bath when Foyet used his shiny new key, snipped the chain latch and crept into the darkened apartment. There was a sheet of drywall with chunks cut out of it leaning against the washing machine and he stared at it longingly, thinking about hiding between it and the wall for hours waiting for Hotch to get home. How he'd anticipated that arrival! Planned it out endlessly, thought about every possibility. What if Hotch saw him right away? Would he be trapped, cornered? The thought, he had to admit, had thrilled him in a way. If those hawk eyes had trained on him and let him attack...but no. No, he was out of sorts, Foyet could tell it right away. He watched as Hotch tossed his things into his mess (he hadn't thought Hotch would be so messy, he'd been wrong about that but then...maybe it wasn't so much messy as it was simply depressing. The man clearly had some issues to work through.) 

That all felt so far away now, so much had happened. He'd gotten to know Hotch so much better. In his mind he held so many fascinating things, maybe he'd never use them, but he was sure Hotch and Derek at least knew now exactly how easily he could deep dive into their lives. Did Derek worry about him being so close to his sister? Did Hotch wonder why he hadn't put a bullet into Sean's head? He hoped they'd been thinking about it.

Now he stood in the middle of the room and he soaked it up, surveyed the new landscape. Derek hadn't moved much but he'd changed enough that Foyet had to reacquaint himself with it. The couch was the same, but the liquor cart was now shoved against a wall, out of the way so Derek could mend that hole. His hole. How it had taken everything in him not to shoot Hotch. That split second decision between a bullet between the eyes and just a scare. Moving the gun, giving his ear drums a surprise party. In his dreams Hotch hadn't flinched, had been a worthy adversary...but he had been a little disappointed in reality. Not enough to throw the plan away though. He scuffed the carpet with his shoe as he crept and smiled almost dreamily. 

And then the damn dog started growling from the kitchen. 

Foyet turned his head and peered into the darkness, finding white teeth grinning at him from inside the puddle of a shadow. A tingle of fear pulsed through him. He had watched Clooney and the dog seemed mostly benign,  but all dogs hated him and that was true now too. He crouched, dropped one knee right into the spot he knew he'd slipped a knife into Hotch's chest, and reached into his pocket. 

“Here boy,” he whispered, extending a hand with a small cut of meat poked through with just enough pills to make the dog sleep. He wasn't going to kill Derek's dog...but it just might look like it. Really, he could, it would be so easy, make it sleep and pull out the knife...but he wasn't interested, and that really was what it all came down to with him. Foyet didn't do anything that didn't interest or excite him and killing a dog was pretty low on his list. He never cared much for easy prey. What would that say about him? Clooney scarfed down the meat quickly and wagged his tail, like he might like more, and Foyet stayed perfectly still watching the dog as the drugs began to take effect. Slowly the dog lowered itself to the floor, it wouldn't sleep for a while yet but it would be good and disoriented. Tired, watching, unable to do much else. With the dog out of the way, he really had nothing else to do.

He thought about the curly haired woman he'd seen, maybe a caregiver or a family member. She didn't look like much, she wore mismatched animal prints (or worse, sweaters with goddamn cat faces on them) and he simply couldn't be bothered to figure her out. No matter who she was, she posed little threat. He never saw her leave but then...she didn't look like she'd be worth much time. If he could get Hotch and Derek under control quickly, she'd be no problem at all but if he went to her first he risked her screaming or alerting them in some way. It was a hard thing to weigh, but peering down the hallway at the two closed doors he knew what he had to do. If she was sleeping in Jack's room at the end of the hallway, she might not even know he was there. And if she was in the room with Hotch and Derek? Well, three's company but four's a crowd. 

First he stopped at the bathroom and slipped into the medicine cabinet out of curiosity. He wondered how many medications poor Hotch had to take now, and how many would mirror his own. He was slightly shocked to find many similarities. He'd cut Hotch fewer times than he'd done himself over the years and had done considerably less damage, he'd really gained some skill and thought the medication load reflected that. There were some exact matches, but Hotch was lucky, probably should thank him for that. Maybe he'd get a thanks out of him. He thought not, at least not without a little pressure. Ungrateful. 

After that pit stop, he had to be on with it. He was taking too many chances, feeling so completely comfortable in Hotch's apartment was going to be his undoing. With his hand perched over the door handle, he sucked in a deep breath and entered a moment he'd been dreaming up for ages. It felt like projecting his mind before his body. Drugs couldn’t compare to this feeling. 

Hotch's room was quiet, save for the deep breathing of Derek. It wasn't really snoring, exactly, more like a big cat purring. Hotch probably thought that was sweet, Foyet wanted to punch him in the damn nose.  He'd planned to take Hotch first, but that sound...god that sound, he had to take Derek first. Slowly, he crept along the floor up to the side of the bed, and heard rustling in the sheets. He held his breath and glanced upward, half expecting to be met with Derek's face and a gun between his eyebrows but it was a false alarm, just more of the same fucking purring sound. 

He wanted to just blast a hole in Derek's chest, right into those Herculean muscles, lodge a few pieces of molten hot metal in those damn lungs and watch him bleed out all over Hotch. But that would wake the lady, if she was still around, and that wouldn't do. Still, he was in a pickle...he couldn't just pull Derek out, that would wake Hotch and he wouldn’t want him to miss even a minute of his beauty sleep. Yes, a pickle, for sure, but Foyet thrived on adrenaline. 

Back to the front room he crept, deciding he’d really been a genius not actually killing the dog because he really needed that slobbering mess of fur now. 

He poked Clooney, rattled him around until the dog growled under his breath and waited behind the couch. When it produced nothing, he poked the useless mutt harder, pinched Clooney hard and elicited a low deep groan. “There you go, Cujo,” Foyet whispered. Voices from the other room drifted down the hallway and he could hear Derek mutter something about the bedroom door being open. That got his dander up, Foyet figured, because soon the door was creaking the rest of the way on its hinges and out stepped Adonais in his track pants and bare feet, sleepy sweaty skin glistening beneath a tank top that was at least two sizes too small. Foyet had never wanted to kill someone more, really, just on principle.  

“Clooney?” he called in his husky whisper, his hand gripping something small and black...a gun, Foyet thought with a smile. Hoped, really. “Cloon-dog where you at?”

The minute that he crouched beside his dog, it was all over for Derek. The idiot put his gun down, right beside his knee, and frantically began feeling the dog’s slow moving rib cage for breath. Foyet saw his opportunity and slid right in behind Derek, more a living shadow than a person. It was quick. His knife was plunging deep into Derek’s side, right through that stupid black tank-top before the man could even think about his gun sitting right there. Foyet paused and licked his lips while holding Derek against him for what he knew was only a split second but felt like an eternity. Like they were slipping through binary code in the damn matrix (why didn’t he ever bother with the big flowing trench coat? regrets) he considered his options. He could kill Derek right now. He could drag that knife right through those muscles, disembowel him like fucking Hannibal Lecter but where was the fun in that? 

He wanted Derek to watch. 

And watch he would. Derek groaned miserably, his hands flying with desperation to the gaping hole in his side. On the floor, Derek lay beside Clooney, hot dog breath on his cheek and he sucked in breath after desperate breath just to manage the ball of flame erupting in his side. Foyet crouched over the top of him smiling, waving his knife, like Derek needed the visual. He knew what happened. His blood all over the shimmering silver, one small drop falling right onto the end of Derek’s noise.  

“You got anything left in you, Agent Morgan? Get up.” 

He enjoyed watching Derek fumble his way to his feet, swaying and unsteady while blood trickled through his fingers and down his leg. Foyet waited, almost daring Derek to make a move, and as anticipated the man lurched forward in a staggering lunge directly at him, one hand pressed hard against the bleeding and the other aimed right for Foyet's face. He would rip Foyet to shreds with his bare hand, the sparks in his eyes left no question there, but it was easy beating him away. He was losing blood too quickly to be much of a threat and Foyet threw him against that brand new wall with a thud. A crash. The fresh square split at the seams but didn't fall out. Not entirely, it just hung there open to darkness and Derek watched with fascination as his insurance policy almost glowed in his foggy vision. He got up and hoped that Foyet would take the bait, throw him again, and he did. Foyet couldn’t say no. 

He was predictable, if nothing else.

He threw Derek hard into the wall and he relished the sound of his body slamming and hitting the ground. Derek didn’t get back up this time, but that square of drywall, that brand new square fell to the ground at his feet and before his vision went completely gray, he smiled.  

Hotch pulled himself out of the thick fog of drugged sleep at the sound of crashing from his front room and swiped his hand to the side, feeling for Derek. When had he gotten up? God, he couldn’t think straight, his mind was a soupy mess. Slowly he sat upright, groaning at the pull in his midsection, the pain was deep and angry when he tried to use those muscles. Slowly, on unsteady legs, he stumbled down the hallway like a zombie. Foyet was hoping he'd be a little less mobile, he'd been so looking forward to having fun in the bed, but he looked like he was in plenty of pain. It wouldn't be a problem to make it worse right here in the open. Adaptable, he prided himself on being adaptable.  

“Derek?” Hotch croaked, and Foyet thought he detected fear. Or confusion. He hated it. Not Hotch, not afraid Hotch. Not yet, anyway...he was supposed to be angry as a hornet, even if he was in pain but he just looked pathetic. 

Except Hotch was full of surprises. From his robe he produced a gun and leveled it at Foyet carefully. He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t made him feel a surge of giddiness, and he turned away from Derek with a devilish grin. It made him giddy, but it also made him laugh. “Go ahead,” he said, watching Hotch's hands tremble around the weapon. He could hardly steady himself on his feet, no way he'd be able to shoot it...and even if he managed on will alone, he'd never be able to be accurate. Not even mister sharpshooter. “Go on. Do it.” Foyet’s smile was bloody, he’d wiped his knife on his own shirt and had plenty on his hand when he wiped the sweat from his face. War paint, Derek’s blood, he wondered whether Hotch had put that part together yet. 

The gun fired and as predicted, it went just to the left of Foyet and slammed into the wall, shattering a vase on the way. Some stupid vase that meant nothing. This apartment meant nothing to Hotch, there was no personality here. A few terrible fucking drawings made by a little kid, a cheesy Father’s Day mug, some fingerpaint handprints…and then this bullshit load of boats and country scenery he probably got at some discount home decor store. It screamed I took my toddler shopping and let him decorate the place because I hate my life. Pathetic. The kickback caused Hotch to drop the gun to the floor and curl around his midsection automatically, exactly as Foyet had anticipated. Or hoped. The wounded animal sounds he made gave Foyet a glowing feeling in his chest. It was delightful, and Foyet didn’t even have to do anything to achieve them. 

At this, he stepped over the top of Derek who was lying more or less unconscious and bleeding out, in order to grab Hotch. He forced him down onto his knees by his hair, pressing hard and manipulating his every move. Quickly, maybe a little more forcefully than necessary, he dragged Hotch’s head back to expose his neck and watched him furiously gulping for air against the sharp pain in his ribs. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down and the thought of Derek kissing him popped into Foyet’s head for just a brief moment. He chuckled at his own joke, wondering if Derek ever called it bobbing for apples. He couldn't believe how clever he was, sometimes. In another life he may have been a stand-up comedian.

“Get up, Agent Morgan,” he demanded, holding Hotch upright by his hair. Derek groaned miserably and hauled himself up to his knees, swaying right in front of Hotch. He pressed his hand hard against the wound at his side, holding himself together and nudging himself forward on his knees inch by inch, until they fell forehead to forehead. Derek leaned forward, his body too heavy, too weak, all his weight supported by Hotch and gasped a deep, rasping breath. He tried to hold Hotch's attention on his eyes, couldn't let him know he was barely clinging to consciousness, barely clinging to anything. 

Foyet wanted to throw up. “Get a room,” he muttered, laughing at his own joke. The further the night progressed, the less convinced he became of his own demise…he might just come out of this one on top. It had almost been too easy. 

“It's okay,” Hotch whispered, licking his lips. “I'm okay.”  He wanted to ask if Derek was okay, but he didn't want Derek to give anything else to Foyet, he'd already given far too much. He wanted silence. He wanted Foyet to squirm, it was all they had left. 

Derek stayed where he was and closed his eyes just listening to the forced calm of Hotch’s breaths. He was losing a lot of blood but Hotch didn’t seem to register that yet, or if he did he wasn’t letting on. “I love you.”

Foyet’s knife, cold and slick with Derek’s blood, appeared at Hotch’s throat. Poised right at his pulse, dancing delicately where the skin jumped almost imperceptibly over rushing blood. “How sweet,” he hissed, hunching and curling around Hotch until his lips were on his ear. “You hear that? He loves…”

His sentence disappeared into a sickening crack and gurgling noises as something hard slammed into him from behind. He lost his grip and his knife slipped into Hotch’s skin, jerking from his chin to the corner of his lip and up into the meat of his cheek, flaying skin from bone. Foyet landed hard against him and Derek, frantic, stared up into the wild and terror-stricken eyes of Jessica Brooks in her baby pink llama pajamas with a baseball bat covered in blood. 

Not enough blood, Derek thought bitterly. Not enough at all because Foyet was still breathing, and he was moving.

“I…” she stammered. “Jack’s bat…I’m sorry I…” Her words wouldn’t come, and she watched with horror as Foyet struggled his way up onto his knees, rubbing at the back of his bloody head. She'd played softball all through college, her swing should have laid him out, that fucker was like a cockroach.

“You really shouldn’t have done that…” he groaned, craning his neck from side to side. His head fucking hurt, but it was still attached. That bitch tried to knock his block off and he couldn’t stand for that. Before he could focus on her, though, he glanced at Hotch and his heart nearly stopped dead in its tracks. His face, dammit…not part of his plan. Ruined. Foyet had never ruined a face before, at least not this early on. He liked to save that for last. “Look at what you made me do. This is your fault, you know? If he lives and looks like the fucking Joker, that’s on you blondie…”

Derek crouched on his knees trying to press his hands to Hotch’s mess of a face, doing everything in his power not to cry while closing up the gaping, jagged smile carved into his cheek. Hotch's blood, mixed with his own, seeped thick between his fingers. He forgot about his own wound, it no longer mattered. “Jess!” Derek shouted, pulling her attention away from the horror of Foyet covered in blood and forcing himself to stand like some horror movie monster that just wouldn't die. “In the wall! Look in the wall!” 

In her shock, she somehow found a way to come through, to listen to Derek shouting at her. His voice rang in her skull, he sounded so far away but she slipped her arm into the hole, swiping around until she felt it. Cold metal tucked deep inside strips of duct tape.

Builder's tradition. Derek’s insurance policy. 

Foyet was preoccupied with the horror of Hotch’s grim features, the mask of pain he wore. That new smile. Atrocious. He would never…dammit. Never. He turned to look at her, to chastise her for ruining his masterpiece…Hotch was as good as dead now, all that hard work ruined. He drove around the country for this stupid bastard and she'd ruined it all.

“You stupid…”

But she cut him off with a bullet this time. It tore through him and down he went in a heap, right on top of Hotch, smashing Derek’s hands against his face. Foyet made a few noises, like he might get back up, like he had some gas left in the tank but without his knife and his gun, he was nothing but a mortally wounded sack of meat as far as Derek was concerned. He could finish the job if he needed to. Using his bare foot, Derek nudged him backward off of Hotch, slid all the weapons away from him, and pulled Hotch carefully into his lap. 

“Call 911, Jess,” he whispered, waving his hand at her, begging her to place the gun in his palm. “I got this. Call an ambulance or you’ll be the only one who walks outta here…”

As she fumbled for her phone, the gun shot still ringing in her ears, all she could think about was how she’d thrown up the last time she shot a gun.

She didn’t feel like throwing up now. 

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #george foyet #jessica brooks #foyet aftermath #criminal minds #hotchgan #mortch #fanfiction

[ay44t]

pov: eloise after the pall mall closing scene in bridgerton 2x08

: ̗̀➛ _________________________ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Eloise had spent the entire pall mall game observing her brother Anthony’s newfound personality. The last time she had seen him this content was when she was only five years of age. Anthony would swing her up on his shoulders and play with her endlessly, that is until her father Edmund bridgerton passed away, and he was too busy to ever even speak to her. Though she didn’t mind it too much, she was much closer with her brother, Benedict who was of course her favorite sibling. Unfortunately, even Benedict couldn’t make Anthony smile as Kate had done in these past few months – they were both curious. But while Benedict understood that Anthony had just fallen in-love, Eloise knew there had to be more to it. 

As Kate and Anthony clung to one another as they walked inside to their bedroom, Eloise tapped Kate on the shoulder requesting to speak to her. With a wide smile across her face, Kate sent Anthony to go walk Newton with Gregory and Hyancith, and took Eloise by the hand. Eloise had never met someone as interesting as Kate. Kate Sharma, now Kate Bridgerton, was everything Eloise dreamt of being: strong-willed, determined, obstinate, gentle, happy. Kate was her role-model and really, the only person who could help Eloise is a difficult time like this, and perhaps she would spill her secrets of how she was able to change a stubborn rake like Anthony Bridgerton.

The two sister’s sat in the sunlight, sipping tea as they started a discussion.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Kate began, her mind fully wrapped around whatever it was that Eloise wanted to discuss.

Eloise thought about what she even wanted from Kate at this moment, could she tell her everything that had been going on between her and Penelope? Or about the guy she had possible fallen in-love with? There was so much to tell her but what if Kate wasn’t the one who she could trust?

“Colin had told me that you and Penelope haven’t spoken in a while,” Kate said, interrupting her thoughts, “Are you two alright?” 

Eloise took a deep breath before speaking,

“Well, that is sort of what I wanted to speak about,” Eloise replied, “But you must promise not to tell anyone, not even Anthony.”

“There are no secrets between us, but if you wish for me not to tell him, I won’t.” she said, with a wink, reassuring Eloise.

Eloise sipped her warm tea as she was about to tell Kate something that she wouldn’t have ever dreamt of saying outloud.

“I know who Lady Whistledown is.” she said calmly with excitement in her eyes.

Kate nearly spit our her tea as she looked at Eloise, shocked.

“Eloise, I thought you had ended your hunt for Whisledown after last seasons.. events.” Kate said worriedly.

“Of course I did, and I didn’t even want to believe it myself when I had found out who it was,” Eloise replied.

“Well, who is it?”

“Penelope Featherington,” Eloise said with a gloomy look.

Kate sighed, “and this is the reason the two of you are not speaking, I presume”

Eloise nodded slowly as the viscountess looked at her with a confused look, would Kate know what to do?

“Eloise, tell me, are you going to tell anyone your best friends secret,” Kate asked

“My best friends secret which I did not even know until I figured it out, and no I was not planning to tell anyone but the queen of England who currently despises my presence.” 

“You’re going to rat out your friend to her Majesty?” Kate said shocked, “that doesn’t sound like you.”

“It isn’t like me, except Penelope didn’t just harm the Ton with her silly gossip sheet, she broke my relationship with a man I truly cared for.” Eloise suddenly gasped as she realized that she said too much.

“Forget about that,” she quickly says, “I won’t rat Pen out, I was just feeling.. rebellious, now I really do have another book to finish reading so if you’ll excuse me,” Kate, with wide and interested eyes, is suddenly intrigued in this mysterious man Eloise has been seeing secretively.

“Theo Sharpe?” Kate said, “i never realized you had a true affection with him, but it seems that you are in love, Eloise!”

“In-love, me, with a stubborn, good for nothing, man?” Eloise gasps, “You’re going a bit too far,”

Kate smirks as Eloise tries to hide the shade of her embarrassment. They continued their conversation for at least another hour.

Finally, as Eloise realized how many secrets she had spilled in a few moments, Anthony entered the room to drag Kate away.

“Oh its been so long since I’ve seen my darling wife,” Anthony says, “Please Eloise what are the two of you even speaking about?”

Kate smiles at Anthonys mourning as she tells him that sister talk is always a secret, leaving him dumbfounded. Eloise leaves the two of them, before she had to witness a romance session. 

#eloise bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #kanthony #kanthony fanfic #eloise bridgerton fanfic #fanfiction #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #pall mall #theo sharpe #coquette #bridgerton siblings

[lililinuks]

vent shitpost again

I don't want to turn this into a story where I'm going to cry about my life, but I miss her so much, I was so worried and just couldn't see her because of her condition, it was too painful for me to watch her feel bad and I can't help her, I couldn't make her laugh her, her light smile kills me from the inside, and how glad she was to see me when she came to visit it hurts me terribly because of everything, I just don't understand what will happen next, lately I think I don't have aaa..motivation? desires? To live, no, I don't want to do something scary with myself/srs don't worry, I'm just too tired of it, I really want to go to a friend, I really want to sit with her in the evening to laugh and go to bed Many times before going to bed, I replace what happened the day after my friend's birthday, I couldn't fall asleep because of what happened, because thoughts were endlessly spinning in my head, I fell asleep only after I interrupted the thoughts in my head with something that I love, I WAS JUST INTERRUPTING MY FEAR OF WHAT HAPPENED THINKING THAT HMM YES, THESE ARE MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS KISSING, it's so stupid and sad now I fall asleep normally, except that my sleep regime has become even worse, it's 8 in the morning, and I still haven't gone to sleep, but I'll finish this post and go to sleep I just have to wait for my mom to get out of the hospital and hope that the treatment will really help her i miss her sm

#shitpost

[thisfairytalegonebad]

(This is in response to your last textpost. I'm sorry this is an anonymous ask and not a comment, I'm detrimentally shy.) It's fair to say that you'll never do this again, but it shouldn't be understated what an accomplishment doing every prompt for a month challenge is already!

I really hope that after October you can find time to recuperate and maybe even celebrate the occasion!

I don't think the writing you've done has suffered in quality at all, though. Which is even more of an impressive feat. You are incredibly creative with how you interrupt the prompts. The way your mind works is truly beautiful. I've endlessly enjoyed reading day after day to see what you come up with and I have no plans of stopping. My part in that is certainly the easier one though hahah. You're selling yourself short, if you ask me. I think they've all been consistently great. Being cut short, while a shame, brings boundless potential for the future! You can always return to these pieces and expand/edit/whatever you see fit when you find the time (presumably after the month ends which is totally reasonable and okay but there's no pressure at all).

It breaks my heart to hear that this has been a lonely affair. If I'm not mistaken, fundamentally, these challenges are for artists to connect. I wonder - would you want someone to talk to about this and whatever else?

This is one of the loveliest messages I have ever received and I don't know if I can express just how much it means to me. But first let me just say, you don't need to apologize for being on anon - I totally get it!

I made that post to vent because I was straight up not having a good time and I didn't really expect much from it, just needed to get it out, but then I got some super kind responses on the post itself, and now this message, I really cannot believe it. I feel so heard and so appreciated, and I thank you so much for it.

It's especially a relief to hear that you don't think the quality of it has suffered - I've been really worried about that and I didn't want it to be a quantity over quality thing, so it's super reassuring to hear that there doesn't seem to be a glaringly obvious drop in quality over the days!

Today I'm feeling somewhat better about everything, I can see the end of it and I'm proud of myself for what I've managed so far, so that's the good news. I don't hate any of this, by no means, and there's definitely good things about it, good stuff that came from it etc. I just think I thorougly underestimated it, but that doesn't mean it's all bad. Still, I'll be glad when the month is over, hahaha.

Also, yes I am always open to talking! I'm bad at inserting myself into a communication and making friends and stuff, but I'm thrilled when I get to talk to people!

#from the bottom of my heart thank you so much #you are the best kind of person honestly #i feel like i can't do this justice in my reply but i read it today when i was at work and there were some lil tears in my eyes ngl #may you have an absolutely wonderful day!