#i think i either swallowed my bottom ones or ive gotten used to the feeling so im ignoring them now

[descendantofthesparrow]

the left side of my tongue is all numb/the nerves are busted due to the numbing shots and its bugging meeeeeeeeeeeeee

#everything else has worn off #pain killers are working like a charm #i think some of my top left stiches came out a bit #i heard a pop #i think i either swallowed my bottom ones or ive gotten used to the feeling so im ignoring them now #idk #i had refried beans for lunch and mesaged my mom for ideas to make em taste better AND HER IDEAS WERE GOOD #no spicy stuff #onion powder #garlic powder #paprika n butter #yes #good #loved it #i usually hate canned refried beans but i got an actually like-brand name that wasnted that *one* brand #ya know what one brand #and they looked good AND the added stuff tasted really good #gonna get more beans #bring em to work for lunch once i start work again #thats prob gonna be my best bet for lunches #gonna havt'a get up early for breakfast on work days cuz i have medications i have to take after breakfast and i dont wanna bring all of it #to work #anywayyyyyyyyyyyy #yeah #im comfortable #tongue is the onnly thing actually bugging me #makes it hurt to open my mouth #like the actual extraction sides hurt less than my tongue? #like bruh #nerve damage-its normal-should heal up in a few days-i also like-bit onto it during sleep?

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

we must love

"hide behind me. my immunity against sadness is stronger.”

future! adult! ace x reader

gender neutral reader

synopsis: what exactly was it that made ace fall for you? what was the moment when he knew that he loved you?

i | ii | part iii | iv

Ace had loved you for many years, and there were many people in his life who were aware of the crush he had on you as a student. He had spent many of his golden years messing around and learning what it meant to be in love, even if he fell short of the standards you had set for yourself and learned the painful pangs of an unrequited love. 

But when exactly did he fall for you?

There were lots of moments where he could reaffirm his feelings for you, lots of moments where he could think to himself ‘Yes, this is why I fell for you’. But there was one moment, one specific incident, which he could attribute as the start of his beautiful and tantalizingly slow journey…

‘This place sucks.’

Ace sighed to himself, slumping down to a squat as he holed himself up in a distant corner of the Heartslabyul dorm. On a normal day, the area would be buzzing and filled with other students carrying on with their usual days, and if he closed his eyes and focused hard enough, Ace could make out the frenzied cries of his dormmates plowing through homework or Riddle shrieking at an unsuspecting rule breaker.

He wished it was any old normal day. Ace didn’t expect his transition from his past life in the Queendom of Roses to a prolific student attending the prestigious Night Raven College to be a walk in the park, but he didn’t expect for it to be the shitstorm he was facing either. Just from the first day, he barely saved his neck by fighting tooth and nail with some Overblot mine monster, and things had gone downhill until his dorm leader’s Overblot not too long after.

It was a lot, to say the least. He was grateful the incidents seemed to somewhat calm down, but it wasn’t like he had much room to breathe either.

His body ached as if in response, and he sighed deeply again, burying his weary head in his arms. His dormmates were probably fast asleep at this late hour, and Ace sorely wished that he could let go of all of his worries and bury himself in his shitty dorm bed too.

But no.

As full of swagger as he was, as confident as he appeared to be, as haughty as he could towards his peers, Ace was truthfully struggling to feel like he fit in at this school. 

He was making friends without too many problems, but all of his relationships felt superficial. Everyone at this school felt like they had ulterior motives and were only friends for the sake of saving face, and the high-strung tension in all the different dorms didn’t help either. Ace was used to being the spotlight back home—a promising young mage with lots of hopes for the future—but now that everyone around him was also promising young mages, he had lost that special sparkle that made him so sure in his abilities. Furthermore, no matter where he turned, it felt like he could only see the shadows of the glory his older brother had left behind.

Ace was never one to feel inferior, but for the first time in his life, Ace felt ordinary. 

Just the thought made his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. His family had been so proud when he had gotten his acceptance letter: his older brother smacked his back and told him to do well, his grandmother had cooked up a feast for dinner that night, and his parents fussed over him nonstop until the black carriage came to pick him up… 

He felt like a failure for floundering around, and he sure as hell didn’t want to disappoint them by showing this weak side of him to anyone. 

His eyes flickered over to the distant dorm rooms, and Ace contemplated heading back in for bed. He swallowed hard, chewing on his bottom lip before deciding against it. As tired as he was, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for a while, and the last thing he needed was for one of his roommates to catch him sniffling in bed and give him hell for being a crybaby. 

Slowly, he pressed his back against the wall and slid up to his feet. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well find something else to keep him company. Wandering around the loopily decorated Heartslabyul hallways was doing little to calm his mind, and Ace ultimately decided to venture out to the main areas of the school.

Maybe a little walking around would tire him out. Even if it meant cutting into his sleep a bit and waking up grouchy the next morning, perhaps letting all of his distressing thoughts out at once and wallowing in them like some moody stickler would help him get over this faster.

…

…

…

The moon shone in calm streams, similar to undisturbed river water, as Ace roamed the empty hallways. Occasionally, a ghost would float through the walls, or a painting hung up would yawn to themself, but for as far as he could see, it was just him alone with his thoughts. Had he not been in such a bad mood, Ace would have actually enjoyed the time spent with himself—Night Raven College was a rather aesthetic place, even if he didn’t know the first thing about architecture and decorations. 

His footsteps echoed through the halls as he sighed for the millionth time that night, living through all of his lukewarm memories as he passed by his classrooms. The times he had struggled through what seemed to be basic lessons, wishing he could go home whenever his Alchemy classes grew tough, waking up sore and miserable whenever Flying lessons began to grow more strenuous… He knew he had to go out of his comfort zone to grow, but it felt like he was doing nothing but pushing himself.

His feet stopped in front of the Hall of Mirrors, and he lifted his face to look at the grand doors. Each of the mirrors leading to the different areas of the school glimmered alluringly under the silver moonlight, and when he looked at face from the reflections, he could see the smudged red heart on his face staining his pale skin like a splash of mocking blood.

Ace couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad, and he listlessly wiped at it with his thumb. He meant to rub it off, but instead, it smeared in an angry crimson streak across his face. 

This place really must not have been meant for him.

He slumped down on the ground again, splaying his legs out on the cold floor and letting his head hang. The corners of his eyes stung, and he could feel his face heating up as the frustrated tears threatened to spill over his eyelashes. He didn’t want to cry—he really didn’t want to be seen sobbing like a baby in the middle of the school, even if crying seemed to be the only thing he wanted to do in the situation.

A soft pair of footsteps echoed not too far away, and a careful voice appeared to pop up from out of the blue. “I-Is someone there…? Who’s there?”

Ace stiffened, hastily rubbing at his eyes as he looked up. A small shadow fell over him as he did, and he kept his gaze lifeless and dead as someone entered the Hall of Mirrors. He didn’t expect anyone to be up at this hour, but then again, it appeared like the other person thought the same too.

“Oh! I’m sorry–I hope I didn’t scare you. I thought I heard something- er, someone, I guess- and I wasn’t sure if it was a ghost or maybe my own nerves scaring me…,” the other person laughed nervously. Ace noticed a book bag by their side and assumed that they must have been up late studying.

It was obvious that he had been close to crying. His disheveled appearance and puffy eyes would have told anyone that much. But his conversation partner thankfully made no comment and simply extended their hand towards him to help him up.

Ace gratefully took their hand, hoisting himself back up to an upright standing position. “Thanks. I didn’t think anyone else would be up this late. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n). Likewise. I usually stay up late to study so no one would bother me, so you can imagine my surprise when I saw you here!” You laughed nervously again. Your voice sounded so bright and cheery, and a pang of envy stabbed at Ace. He wished he could be that optimistic about being a student here, and he wished he could find the motivation to do something like that. 

You peered at him, smiling sweetly. “What’s your name?”

“Ace,” he mumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Ace Trappola.”

“Ace,” you repeated. You eyed his crumpled uniform. “You must be a Heartslabyul student, huh? I’m surprised you’re out wandering this late. Isn’t your dorm leader a tough one with his curfews and rules?”

Ace frowned deeply, avoiding your sunny gaze. “I couldn’t care less about what my dorm leader thinks.”

“Still. You should get back to your dorm. It isn’t safe to be out too late. Even a night owl like me is heading back,” you joked lightly. “Do you want me to walk you back? Or can you not go back? If you need help, I can try. I don’t know how much assistance I’ll be, but I’m not one to turn away from someone in need.”

“It’s fine,” the redhead cut in. “It’s nothing like that. I just-”

He paused, his voice failing him. You tilted your head to the side, looking at him curiously. Ace pursed his lips together, pressing them into a thin line before he exhaled deeply and let his head hang once more.

“I don’t mean to dump all of this on a stranger, but… I just wanted a moment to clear my head. This school’s a lot, you know?” He offered up with a pathetic smile. He wished he could muster up the usual faux confidence he would parade around the school with, but in this moment, Ace knew he was nothing more than a scared, homesick first-year student who simply wanted everything to go away for a moment.

Had you been any other villainous student at this school, you would have laughed at him. 

Instead, you nodded supportively. “I understand. This school isn’t an easy place at all. I mean, if it were, I wouldn’t be here. Everyone around me is so amazing and skilled and talented, it feels like if I take a moment just to breathe, I’ll fall behind. It’s embarrassing and I try to play it off as a joke, but… I stay up to study this late so I can try and keep up. I can’t even think about getting ahead, but I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t even stay at the same pace with everyone else. Funny, isn’t it? Everyone here pretends like they’re all high and mighty, yet with everything weird happening here, it seems like we’re all struggling.”

He swallowed thickly, and his mind immediately went to the Overblots. Ace would never imagine himself to ever be at the same caliber of magic that the dorm leaders were, yet one by one, they were succumbing to their own weaknesses and revealing their vulnerable and hurt sides. He always knew that he wasn’t the only one struggling and lost, but it felt impossible to fathom that people like that could feel the same emotions that he was. 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I wish I could… not feel so miniscule sometimes. To my dorm leader, I’m nothing but a first-year troublemaker. To my teachers, I’m nothing but another face out of thousands to lecture to. To my peers, I’m nothing but another rival for them to defeat and weed out. I’m no one special here. I don’t have any powerful magic to make myself stand out like a dorm leader might, and I don’t come from a fancy family or hold a noble title or- or be a celebrity. I’m some guy and nothing else.”

He stifled a sob as he choked the last part out, hating the way his voice wavered. The hot tears were back again, and he blinked rapidly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He really hated being caught crying, but he had kept his worries bottled up for so long that now he had someone who understood it, all his frustration came flooding out all at once.

“I don’t think you’re only some guy.” You broke the silence with your thoughtful voice. Ace looked up at you quizzically, one step away from breaking down and turning into a blubbering mess. You stepped towards him, reaching out with a careful hand and squeezing his shoulder gently and reassuringly.

He felt his knees growing weak at your touch. It felt like a million jolts of electricity at once: the first real touch of comfort he had had ever since stepping foot in this school. He felt like a little boy being comforted by someone older, and he felt like his entire body was giving out underneath him.

What kind of feeling was this? 

“I know we’ve just met, but I think you’re someone special! You’re someone who I can talk about to my friends now. A mysterious and handsome first-year student that materialized like a fairy tale prince in the Hall of Mirrors, spooking me on my walk back to my dorm,” you remarked cheerfully. “Although, I suppose a prince would be out of place at a school for villains, right? I don’t mean to make you a conversation starter for me, but what I’m trying to say is… You’re special too! We’re all fighting our own battles, and I think it’s brave of you to face yours by doing whatever it takes. Even if that means wandering the school at night and scaring me half to death.”

Ace wiped at his nose with his sleeve, looking at you like a starstruck puppy. “Are you trying to make me feel better by saying cheesy things?”

“Yes! No! I mean, yes to making you feel better. I’m not saying these things because they sound nice. Everyone has their moments where they feel like they don’t fit in, so I want you to feel like you’re seen! Night Raven College is notorious for valuing individualism, and it’s easy to get lost when there’s no real sense of community. I want you to know that there are people like me you can lean on, even if it’s only for a little bit.” You fumbled, chuckling awkwardly to yourself. You pat his shoulders firmly, as if that would transfer your energy to his weak body.

Ace stayed quiet. For the first time in a long time, the squeezing in his chest dissipated. He still felt heavy and tired, but he didn’t feel so alone. It was hard to feel that way when a kind stranger like you was there, mere inches away from him, holding onto him with all the cheer you could muster.

He laughed at himself quietly. How pathetic he must look to you, sniveling about his problems when all you probably wanted to do was head home and clock in for the night. 

“There we go,” you said, taking his laughter to be proof of him doing better. “C’mon, you should head in. Staying up late and wearing yourself out isn’t going to help with any depressive episodes, and the last thing you need on top of everything else on your plate is someone finding out you’re breaking curfew. Do you want me to walk you back? Or do you think you’ll be fine on your own?”

“I’ll be fine…,” he trailed off. You nodded, squeezing him one last time before sauntering over to your own mirror. You glanced behind your shoulder to see him standing there, illuminated by the moonlight as if a new life and new vigor was rushing into him, slowly and surely.

He whirled around to face you, his red eyes sparkling with a depth that you had never seen before. You stared at him curiously, wondering why he had faced you all of the sudden.

Ace swallowed before squaring his shoulders, standing at full height. “You said your name was (Y/n), right?”

“That’s right.”

“Thank you. Thank you for this. I think I needed to hear something like that,” he confessed shyly, mustering up the ghost of a smile on his exhausted face. “I know I can’t offer much back to you, but… I won’t let your advice go to waste. I’ll do my best, and… I’ll find some way to thank you properly. I’m a man of my word.”

You smiled to yourself, nodding encouragingly. “I don’t need payment for a simple act of kindness. But if you’re insistent on it, then the best payment for me is to see you flourishing. Keep your head up, got it? I have faith in you, Ace.”

“Would it be okay for me to see you again?” He asked. His heart hammered in his chest, and you reached for your mirror.

“Of course. I look forward to seeing you. Who knows?” You laughed, stepping foot into the reflective surface. You grinned at him from ear-to-ear, your body almost nearly immersed into the portal. “Maybe we’ll become friends that can support each other till the end.”

Till the end. 

Ace liked the way that sounded. With a flash of light, you had disappeared, almost as quickly as you had appeared. He stood there for a few more minutes, smiling weakly at himself, before he inhaled deeply. It wasn’t much, but it was something to work with.

What a beautifully odd angel of a stranger you were.

x

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #ace trappola #x reader #my writing #weirdos dni or ill chew u up into a pulp

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook scenario #bts x reader #bts scenario #i hope this is good enough for the time being!!! im sorry its taking me so long to get pt 8 posted #u guys are the best i love u <3333

[a-square-minus-one]

Honey 10

Thank you for those who have stuck to this progressing story. Here is the new chapter. You can find the whole story on AO3 and fanfic. 

I killed him.

Raven wakes up long before the team realizes she has. She can’t even register the itchy hospital bed sheets on top of her; her limbs are glued to the cot. Her chest expands as she breathes but she’d struggle less breathing underwater.

Malchior was a disgusting being. Intent to create chaos wherever he went. His only goal was to wreak havoc because he could and because no one could stop him. His life’s work was figuring out ways he could outdo his last destructive feat. His eyes only twinkled when he was asserting his dominance over something.

And she had killed him.

Or at least, separated his consciousness from its physical manifestation.

Or can you even separate that?

She made his limbs stop working.

His mouth would no longer form incantations.

Where would his thoughts go?

Would he be able to sort them or even hear them?

Or were they just whispers on another plane of existence?

Nausea makes Raven sit abruptly, the IV tugging painfully in her arm. She feels more than tastes the vomit fly out of her mouth. Chunks  of yellow bits propel out onto the floor next to her, right by Starfire’s purple boots. Starfire is quick to move Raven’s hair out of the way, despite the fact that doing so sinks her boots right into the undigested food. A few tears escape Raven’s eyes.

“Star…” she groans, making a feeble attempt to push Starfire out the way but the alien just shushes her and rubs her hand over Raven’s back. A green hand extends a plastic cup of water towards her.

“Small sips,” Gar reminds her. She takes the cup out of his hands and raises it to her lips. Raven stiffens when he moves closer, replacing Starfire’s hands with his own. She stares over the rim of the cup at his torso, feeling her eyebrows crinkling. He picks up the hair from her neck. She hears a snap and feels her hair moving left to right. Then he’s at a reasonable distance again. She places a hand on her warm, now bare, neck.

“You-” she clears her throat. “-you can tie a ponytail?”

“Can’t you?” Garfield asks, looking incredibly amused. She feels her face heat up as she places the water on the tray next to her and lays back on the cot. She looks to Star’s boots and then to her face.

“I’m so-”

“Shh I will be hearing none of that friend,” Starfire says, handing Raven a wipe. Raven wipes off one side of her lips. Her hand pauses when she gets to the other side.

“How many civilians?” Raven asks, her fingers trembling behind the tissue. Garfield immediately straightens out his relaxed shoulders. His jaw tightens. Starfire looks down to her feet. Raven turns to Cyborg.

“Two.”

Two fingers touch her lips as the contents of her stomach turn again. Her eyes well up as she swallows around the undigested food rising in her esophagus.

“Ages?” she asks in an almost imperceptible voice.

No one answers.

She clenches her fingers around the wipe and presses it to her forehead.

“Ages?” she pleads.

“54 and 65,” Cyborg says; his rage is like a hot iron in her side. Raven feels Starfire’s despair pelting her on the other side like an open waterfall. Garfield’s emotions are all sharp corners and metal bristles. She can’t even bear to approach the edges of it for fear that she’ll pop and everything will come pouring out of her. She sinks back into her cot trying to tighten her core under the pressure of all their emotions. She almost finds balance in the current until she senses something, like seaweed twisting on her toes when she’s swimming in the ocean.  

“You’re not telling me something,” she says, eyeing Garfield who hasn’t looked her way since tying up her hair. She almost didn’t want to ask considering how tenuous her hold on herself is.

“There was a six year old boy,” Nightwing says, entering the room with arms crossed over his chest. He leans against the doorframe of the med bay. Raven lets out a long breath. She spends a lot of her life thinking about how she breathes. Breathing is the first step to meditation. Right now she wonders what it would be like to be trapped at the end of a long exhale.

“He-”

“Is in ICU,” Nightwing finishes. She brings knees to her chest and sinks her head into them, gripping the fitted sheet on the cot. Her throat is one fire.

“We have to visit the family,” she says, looking at her team members. Everyone pauses.

“We did,” Garfield says, scratching the back of his neck the way he does when he’s pensive or nervous. Raven squints her eyes. She lays her legs flat on the cot.

“I have to visit the families,” she says, shifting to get up. Garfield quickly puts his hands on her shins and she almost kicks him off in surprise.

“You can’t,” Garfield says.

“Why not?”

“The public doesn’t love us right now,” Nightwing says, moving from his position at the door.

Then she feels it, pressing against her. Fire, all around her, filling the gaps between her fingertips, licking up the back of her knees. She almost gasps at the intensity of it.

“You’re angry,” she says, quickly looking up at Nightwing. A few strands of her hair have escaped the ponytail Garfield made for her. Starfire steps forward.

“We all are,” she says. Raven doesn’t look her way, keeping her eyes locked on the immobile Nightwing. This is a different anger. Nightwing knows she knows; their bond hasn’t faded in the years since she went into his mind.

“Where’s Malchior, Raven? Nightwing asks, his index finger twitching against his bicep. The fire around her stops all together. Something cool, fragile, and thin settles over them like a layer of frost on water. Then Raven makes the mistake of looking down. A fireball hits her in the chest like a cannon, she tumbles backwards on the cot.

“Damnit Raven!” Nightwing says. She looks up at his face, now red underneath his mask.

“Yo dude, chill out. She just woke up,” Garfield says. Nightwing whips towards him, his index finger inches away from Garfield’s chest. Raven is ashamed that she feels immediate relief at Garfield’s expense.

“How about instead of worrying about Raven you explain to me where the hell all the animosity for me came from?” Nightwing says, leaning much too far into Garfield’s personal bubble. Garfield leans back and tilts his head.

“Dude, clearly that wasn’t me.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re not you when you transform into other animals?” Nightwing poses this as a question but the fact that each word is coming out like hisses between his clenched teeth makes it seem like he has already decided his answer.

“You know this isn’t just one of my other animal forms and could you check your tone?” Garfield asks. Raven feels his irritation like pricks from a cactus. She wiggles her fingers.

“Everytime the Beast has been present, I have been targeted,” Nightwing’s tone is even when he says this but punctuated in a manner that suggests he has ruminated on this and has already come to his own conclusions. His words sound rehearsed.

“That’s just not true and either way I’ve shown you for years that I’ve been able to control my powers as much as everyone else on the team, if not better.”

“You weren’t able to two days ago.”

“We don’t fight magical dragons everyday,” Garfield bites out and Nightwing swivels towards Raven again.

“And apparently we never will again!” Spit flies out of Nightwing’s mouth as he leans over the end of Raven’s cot. She sits up straight even though Nightwing’s words land heavy like a punch to her stomach.

“Almost sounds like you’re going to miss him,” Raven hisses back. Nightwing’s face is so red that Raven is sure it will explode off of his body.

“How can you be so desensitized to the loss of a life?”

“Jesus Nightwing relax!  It isn’t like she hunted this man down, which is more than I can say about you and Slade...every six months...like clockwork!”

“And yet he’s still alive.” The muscles on Nightwing’s neck are straining as he turns towards Garfield, bumping his chest a little. Any other man would have taken a step back and on any other occasion Garfield would too but right then, he doesn’t.

“Is that because you haven’t tried or because you’ve never gotten close enough,” Garfield says, jutting his own chest outwards so it bumps Nightwing’s.

“Much closer than you did when he turned Terra into stone.”

“Dude what in the actual fuck?” Garfield growls.

“That is quite enough!” Starfire yells, wedging herself between the pair. “You have both done the crossing of the line! Friend Raven is barely recovered!”

Neither man stands down, glaring at each other over Starfire’s shoulders. “Are you going to arrest me Richard?” Raven asks, chin tilted upwards. Nightwing turns away from Starfire and removes his hand from his utility belt.

“He will do no such thing-” Starfire starts.

“You’re not being fair,” he says. Raven tilts her chin higher and arches an eyebrow.

“If you are not going to arrest me then we have more important things to talk about right now than any morally ambiguous decisions I made that there is no way I can undo,” Raven mumbles. “Even if I really wanted to.”

Nightwing runs a hand through his hair then drops both of his hands on his hips. He’s looking her in the eyes. Anyone else wouldn’t be able to tell because of his mask but she knows he is. He’s trying to consolidate all his anger into a concentrated cube. She respects the effort. Garfield, who is hunched over like his spine is ready to break through the skin of his back, clearly does not.

“We have two of your brothers in custody. Lust and Gluttony. I will be handling interrogations. You can watch from another room. ”

Raven sucks in her bottom lip. She knows her brothers better than Nightwing but she’s on thin ice with him as is. She’d have to let him cool down a little before she can get anywhere near that room.

“If you’re going in alone, I need to heavily armor you.”

Nightwing shrugs stiffly. She nods.

Behind Nightwing, Garfield takes his exit; his anger is radiating off of him like an electric heater. Nightwing looks after him, his lips in a straight line but doesn’t try to stop him.

“How much of a dick was I?” Nightwing asks once Garfield has left the room.

“12/10 bro,” Cyborg says, rubbing his forehead. Nightwing cringes.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” Raven says, looking at Cyborg and then towards her IV. Cyborg looks hesitant at first but eventually sighs and does as he’s told.

...........................................................................

“This is very carnivalesque.” Raven says as she sits next to Garfield on the roof. Garfield raises an eyebrow at her “Usually you’re the one who comes to see me on the roof.”

“What?” Garfield asks.

“Nothing,” Raven says, looking down at her feet. She’s not as good as he is at this.

“You should be in the med bay for observations.”

“With all the healing it would be very hard to kill me,” she says. She feels a few fat drops of rain smack her cheek but Garfield doesn’t flinch so she stays put. Raven looks up at the thick clouds moving in the sky.

“Do you think you’ll die like the rest of us?” Garfield asks. Random. Raven hums. “I mean your father...sorry I know it’s a touchy subject-”

“No, go ahead,” Raven says, keeping her eyes on the sky. A warmth spreads in her chest like when she drinks hot tea. It’s been nice for her to see how delicate Garfield is with her boundaries in the last couple of years.

“Trigon is immortal. Does that make you immortal too?” he asks.

“I really hope not,” Raven mumbles immediately. “I’m not a god.”

Her mind immediately goes to Malchior’s lifeless body beneath her.

“Don’t lose any sleep over him,” Garfield says. Raven hums again. “Malchior. That’s who you’re thinking about, right?”

Raven looks away from the sky. Garfield’s lashes are dark and long. He’s green almost everywhere but around his pupils there is a rim of orange that she’s always been fascinated by.

“I took his life away,” she says, curling up her bare toes. “I-I’m afraid…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Garfield interrupts softly. She feels the warmths curl through her insides again. She has to break eye contact.

“I don’t know if I made the right choice. It kind of feels...heavy? If that makes sense.”

“It makes sense.”

It grows quiet again.

“Nightwing was more angry at me than he was at you,” she says. Silence.

A few drops of water land on her thighs. She’s getting a little cold now. She had only come out in the oversized t-shirt she was wearing in the med bay. She thinks it’s Cyborg’s. It fits her like a dress.

“I think he might be right.”

Raven looks up at him, ready to protest. The protests die on her lips when she makes eye contact.

“I keep banking on the fact that I can control the Beast but it kind of sucks. He’s pulling at me all the time.”

“He doesn’t like Nightwing?”

“...He doesn’t like Nightwing’s power over me. Doesn’t like that he’s the one who calls the shots. Which is the complete opposite of me. Usually Nightwing and Cyborg are the ones measuring their dicks to see who gets to be boss.”

Raven snorts.

“Would it be so bad to let him out every once and a while? What else could he want?” Raven asks. Garfield presses his lips together. And his silence stretches like cheese. Just when she thinks it's about the tear, it stretches some more. For much longer than it should. She can’t pinpoint exactly what changes but she is suddenly hyper aware of how long she’s been looking into his eyes. She isn’t about to let on that she noticed the shift though because that would mean that it actually happened.

But maybe she should move?

Or look down?

Why isn’t he saying anything?

Did he lean forward?

Breathe Raven.

She inhales sharply.

There is a flash of lighting in her peripheral vision.

He doesn’t break eye contact.

“Can I see the scar The Beast left?” he finally whispers, keeping eye contact. Oh, that’s what he was thinking about.

She can’t think straight. What did I think he was thinking about? She pulls up her shirt without a second thought, looking down with him...

Then screams internally when she remembers she isn’t wearing any pants.

She freezes. Thunder rumbles.

He doesn’t say anything. She wonders if she’d hear him anyway over the long  ‘AGHH!’ reverberating in her head.

She looks up at him; he hasn’t said anything about her lack of pants. Instead he’s staring intently at her side, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip wedged between his teeth.

Breathe. The team has changed in front of each other before. No big deal.

She wishes she can get a clear read on his emotions but she can barely get a hold on hers.

Then he reaches out his fingertips and slowly runs over the ridges of the three bumpy stripes on her side.

This time she actually shrieks out loud, dropping her shirt immediately. A few rocks on the shore explode into a million little fragments. He pulls his hands away like he just accidentally touched a stove.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry! Jesus, I don’t know why I did that,” he squeals immediately, running a hand through his hair roughly.

Aghhhhhh

“No! It’s... um...fine.Your fingers were just cold.”

The skin around her scars is burning.

Aghhhh .

He shuts his eyes so tightly that she can see little wrinkles at the edges of them. It looks like he wants to turn into a mosquito and fly away. She stays quiet. He places a hand over his eyes.

“Listen...I...I’m sorry about that. The touching,” his voice squeaks. He clears his throat. “But also giving you the scar in the first place.”

He reluctantly moves his hands away and looks at her again.

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt Nightwing. I don’t want to ever hurt you,” Garfield says, his skin changing from brown to green as his blush fades.

Agggghhhhh.

She hums.

Not the right response.

He sucks his lips into his mouth, face getting incredibly brown just as it was resuming its original shade.

“I-” he starts.

She looks at him.

He looks at her.

He flies away.

#bbrae

[risukadarlin]

[diabolik lovers] versus iv vol. 4: reiji vs azusa - track four

4; the sacrifices

listen along・masterpost

                                                                            ✿

Azusa:

-ve… Eve… Eve!

Thank God.

You woke up.

I’m glad we could meet again.

Reiji:

For goodness sake.

Stop acting without thinking of others. 

Azusa:

Reiji… protected you...

Reiji:

Azusa, there was no need to tell her that.

Azusa:

But... it’s true...

Reiji:

You went to sacrifice yourself without saying a word.

I grabbed you in the spur of the moment.

Good grief.

This is why I dislike unreasonable people.

Please do not apologise.

I tried to save you of my own accord, after all.

I do not need thanks.

And in the end, it brought us to Azusa.

I am satisfied now I know he is safe.

Azusa:

Thank you.

Reiji… You were… worried about me...

Reiji:

That is not the case.

Azusa:

Eh? Yes…

This is... where I fell… after I pressed the button… and the floor opened up…

It’s pitch black… like the bottom of a well…

Too cramped… and cold…

I don’t know… where we are…

But… the fact you didn’t… go through the door, means...

Reiji:

Yes.

It means we have lost the game.

I could not fulfil my promise to you, Azusa.

I am deeply sorry.

Azusa:

No…

It’s sad that… we can’t save everyone…

But I’m glad… you protected Eve...

Reiji:

It was a result of my weakness.

It is nothing to be proud of.

Azusa:

That’s not true... at all…

Reiji is… very nice...

Reiji:

If that’s what you want to believe then I won’t stop you.

Azusa:

That’s right. Me too, Eve…

I’m worried about... Ruki and Ayato… and the others…

They might not be safe… if we are stuck here...

Reiji:

Yes.

I did not want to say it, but I would not be surprised if they have been killed.

Though there have been no signs of anything happening since we came here.

But why?

The game is supposed to be over.

Hm?

Is something the matter?

Azusa:

Water?

Now that you... mention it… the water level is rising… slowly...

Reiji:

You’re right.

Only a second ago it was but up to our ankles…

When did it get this high?

He doesn’t mean to drown us, does he?

Azusa:

It’s okay…

There will be… a way out...

Reiji:

Yes, it’s just as Azusa says.

It is too late to surrender now.

The game may not yet be over.

If we had lost, surely Kino would appear in front of me and steal my powers.

Azusa:

Yes, there must be a hint… on how to get outside...

Reiji:

At any rate, we must at least try to find one.

This is...

Azusa:

Did you… find something…?

Another button…?

Reiji:

Yes.

This is most likely the final decision.

Azusa:

“Your brothers”... or “yourselves”...

Reiji:

Annoying until the very end.

He forced me here to make the ultimate choice.

Either we die or we sacrifice our families.

He called us here just to force us into this trap.

All he has done is make fun of us.

Azusa:

Reiji… What should we… do…?

Reiji:

The answer is clear.

There is no need to hesitate over this choice.

I am the head of this family, Kino.

I will not play into your hands.

Azusa:

Wait!

If we choose ourselves… everyone will…

You chose… our brothers...

Reiji:

Yes.

Even if they’re like that, they’re family, after all.

Azusa:

I’m a bit… shocked…

But why… 

I thought you’d pick… us...

Reiji:

It was simple.

One last show of resistance.

I may have not been able to use my father’s powers properly, but…

This is the least I could do, as the head of the Sakamaki family.

They may be useless idiots.

Even so, they are family and we have been together for many years.

I do not want to live so much that it is worth sacrificing them.

Even if I am not here, they will be fine.

I never imagined I would think like this.

I assume this means I trust them.

Azusa:

Good.

Reiji does love everyone… after all...

Reiji:

The word “love” is repulsive.

But it is not too different from that.

I am sorry, however, for making such a selfish decision.

I should have asked your opinions.

Azusa:

No...

Don’t apologise...

I would have done… the same...

It’s more important that… Ruki and the others… are safe…

Eve thinks... the same too… right?

Reiji:

Thank you for saying so.

My own weakness led to you both being involved.

I cannot regret that enough.

Azusa:

That’s not true…

You sacrificed your life… to protect another...

That is… true strength...

Right, Eve?

Reiji:

You are unfalteringly good natured.

But to hear you say that… 

I feel a little better.

Azusa:

The water is up to our… waists now…

It was… so fast…

Eve… You’re shaking…

It’s scary… isn’t it…?

Reiji:

That is obvious.

At least let me drink your blood until you are unconscious.

Azusa:

Yes... That’s a good… idea…

Then Eve… won’t suffer…

It will all end… in your sleep...

Reiji:

Now, focus on the pleasure.

Let it swallow your fears.

Maybe it is because of our situation but your blood tastes different from usual.

It’s slightly bitter, like tea.

What a lovely expression.

That spellbound look in your eyes, it’s a look of loyalty.

Are you still worried about the water?

Forget everything.

Look at nothing but me now.

Understood?

Good girl.

Now, let me remind you just who you belong to.

Azusa:

Reiji… That’s unfair…

Let me too…

I want to taste… Eve too…

Here, your wrist…

The joint of your thumb…

Your pulse is going…  ba-dum… ba-dum…

It’s excited… waiting for me… to bite it…

Hey, Eve… Look…

Watch my fangs… go into you…

You look like… you feel good…

Your silent voice…

This overflowing scent..

Everything about you is… precious to me…

Eve, you like it… when I drink from your ear… don’t you…?

Cute Eve…

My… Only my… Eve…

It’s strange…

Even in this situation… I can only think… about how I want to… make you mine and mine.. alone...

It’s weird… isn’t it…?

But… I don’t hate… this feeling…

I’m happy enough… just thinking that…

You want me… to go deeper… don’t you…?

Your breath… is getting weaker…

Are you almost… at your limit…?

Reiji:

It appears so.

But it is not yet enough, is it?

The scent of your blood tells me you want us to drink more.

Now, show me your chest.

As if you wish for me to bite you more.

Your blood has gotten richer.

No matter how much I drink, it won’t be enough.

It’s quite disagreeable how addicted I am to you.

Well, sometimes it cannot be helped.

Azusa:

Ah, you have no... strength left...

Reiji:

This is the end, then.

Close your eyes.

There is no longer reason to be worried.

Azusa:

I wonder… what will happen... to the spirit world now...

Reiji:

There is no need to worry.

As we lost, Kino will take my powers.

But if he is not a suitable king, another Sakamaki will steal them back.

Therefore you need not worry about the other world.

We are facing a meticulous foe.

He most likely also has a plan to save her.

We may be in a fatal situation now but I assume he means her no harm.

Azusa:

I see…

So, if we leave it… to the others… Eve will be fine too...

Reiji:

Ayato and the others will most definitely save you.

So, please relax.

Did you really think you would die here?

I pushed that plate with the full confidence that you would be saved.

Is it not obvious?

Good grief.

You always are slow on the uptake.

Azusa:

So that’s what it was…

I’m glad…

As long as they save Eve… I don’t care...

Reiji:

There is not much time left.

Let me drink your blood one last time.

Azusa:

Don’t forget us… Eve...

#dialovers #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd translation #drama cd #otome #otome cd #azusa mukami #mukami azusa #reiji sakamaki #sakamaki reiji #translation #otome translation

[innerpostmentality]

On the 8th day of ficmas…. Loose at Edenbrook a Naughty Elf with a Santa Suit

An Open Heart inspired fiction featuring Ethan Ramsey and (MC) Tia Sheldon Words around 1700 Warnings: this follows Ethan and Tia after my Kinky Cards 2020 submission so it is M- erotica All rights to Pixelberry characters and settings are acknowledged Thanks to emichelle and leelee10898 for organizing this and for their patience with me. 12 Days of Fictmas Tag list

Writers : @texaskitten30 @leelee10898 @emichelle @zaffrenotes @alj4890 @burnsoslow @kat-tia801 @darley1101 @msjr0119 @annekebbphotography @god-save-the-keen @plumeriavibes @ofpixelsandscribbles @camillemontespan @ao719 @cocomaxley @cordoniansgonewild @twinkleallnight @the-soot-sprite @cordoniantrash @axwalker @innerpostmentality @lucy-268 @janezillow @katedrakeohd

Readers : @mom2000aggie @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @debramcg1106 @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @drariellevalentine @tornbetween2loves

  Tia was looking over the detailed list that Sienna had given her, checking it twice, she grinned and couldn’t keep herself from softly whisper signing “… makin’ a list, checkin’ it twice…. Dum de dum dum.. So naughty, but nice…” She slipped a small neatly wrapped silver brocade package with a tag that read “Merry Christmas Dr. Ramsey From: Your naughty Elf” into the large red shoulder pack that she’d been filling with the small tins of cookies and treats that Sienna had made’ and other small packages for staff and patients who were having to spend this Christmas at Edenbrook.  She pulled her phone out to check the time and frowned, it was later than she thought, and she had missed a call from Rafael who was supposed to be their Santa Claus. She sighed and called him back.  Rafael picked up on the first ring. ”Tia? I’m so sorry. I’ve got a fever.. I thought I’d be better once I got a shower and some coffee but it’s gotten worse. I don’t think I should do this. I don’t want to get anyone sick.”  Tia could hear the congestion and sadness in his voice. “Oh no. I’m so sorry you’re sick, Raphael. I understand. We’ll find someone. Just take care of yourself. Lots of fluids and plenty of rest. Doctors orders! We’re going to have a little New Year get together. You get better and we’ll see you there.”     She looked forlornly at the Santa costume draped over her desk. Then a mischievous grin settled on her face as she pulled out her phone and called Ethan.                  ________________________________ “This is all bass ackwards if you ask me.” Theodore Sheldon kept his dark eyes on the road as he grumbled. “… driving half-way across the country so we can at least meet this guy. AFTER they are already engaged! Two weeks before the wedding!... What if we didn’t want to come for Christmas? Maybe we would have liked to come for Thanksgiving! Maybe we already had plans for Christmas.” Marie’s smile was a soft, private one as she glanced up from her book and over at her handsome, ranting, husband. The years had made him a perfect fit for the term debonair with a kiss of salt and pepper in his hair but only a single streak of white in his immaculately trimmed beard. He was usually very calm and genial perhaps with the exception of any suitors of their only child, Tia. Then all the proud, incredibly protective papa came full to the fore.  “Did we, mi Amor?” “No. But that isn’t the point. He didn’t ask. He should have asked. We should know this man who is taking our Tia. He could be a complete fraud. Some charlatan out to take advantage of her. He’s too old for her. Something is wrong with a man never married and 38 years old. Maybe he is married. Left his wife and their kids in a trailer park in Detroit looking for greener pastures.” “Theo, Stop it!” Marie shut her book app and frowned over at the mature man now pulling a face a five-year old sulking boy would be proud of. “You know better. The moment you got off the phone with Tia when she told us they were engaged you Googled him. You know he’s a renowned doctor.  He’s a good man, Theo. And Tia is in love with him. Be happy for them. You know they were off on vacation when he proposed. And this works perfectly. We’ll get to spend Christmas and New Years and then the wedding the next week with them. It’s a lovely holiday for us the way this is working out.” She reached over and gently stroked his arm. “Te amo, Theo. I’m looking forward to exploring Boston with you mi Amor.” “He should have asked…” he grumbled but patted his wife’s hand on his arm.                        _________________________________ Ethan was reviewing the cases that had come into the ER that morning. Thankfully they were all treat and release. A few minor burns, some cuts that required stitches but not surgery. A kid that swallowed a marble. Another with a broken toe and some pretty bad scrapes who was trying out his new skate board. Slow was always good in the ER. But it was so slow that he was having too much time to be anxious about meeting Tia’s parents later. It was a strange feeling for him, wanting to impress… well anyone besides Tia.   Then his phone rang and he smiled as he answered, “Hello Tia. Have you heard when your parents will be arriving?” “Ah. No. I think this afternoon or evening. But I have a problem I was hoping you might help me with. If you’re not too busy.” “It’s been blessedly slow so far today. I was just reviewing cases. I think I have a bit before the afternoon food poisoning cases start arriving. I’ll join you in a minute.”                     _____________________________      He was wearing fake hair, bells and a fat suit.  Seven years of medical school three years of residency, Published seven times in the American Journal of Medicine. Two text books published on Diagnostic Methodology and the Interpretation of Diagnostic Modeling. He was wearing fake hair, bells, and a fat suit, and a grin as his very naughty elf bounced up to him jingling in her little green velvet elf suit with her peppermint knee sock clad legs, his ring on her finger, and bells bedecking the pointy toes of her green elf shoes struggling to carry a giant red sack that had presents sticking out of the top. “Tia? Put that down and let’s find a cart. I do not want either of us getting a hernia for Christmas. It would definitely interfere with you making this up to me later.” A few minutes later they settled on an empty IV tree as a Santa bag holder and went wheeling the bag through the halls distributing the assortment of goodies to the staff, popping in to occupied rooms and giving patients little gifts that didn’t violate dietary restrictions and brought lots of smiles to faces. As they left the last room Tia grinned and held the small silver box up. “Only one left. Say’s it’s for Dr. Ramsey. I guess we should go to his office and see if he’s there…” Ethan raised a brow and his bright eyes twinkled with amusement. “Lead the way.” Tia smirked and sashayed her way to the elevator. She paused for a moment before hitting the button for the 4th floor. The moment the elevator doors closed Ethan pulled her to him and kissed her. “4th floor is diagnostics not emergency.” He murmured as he let her go and the elevator door opened. Tia sighed and giggled. Then led him down the hall toward her office stopping by the door just before hers. “I think you should open the present now.” Ethan broke the tape seal and opened the box as his gaze held hers. Finally he looked down. There was a note, and a skimpy bit of green lace underwear wrapped around a key. ‘Look what I’m NOT wearing, just for you! Doctor Banerji pulled a few strings and got us adjacent offices!’ He slid the key in the lock and opened the door to the darkened office letting her go in first. Shutting the door behind them he slipped his arms around her as he whispered, “I love you, my naughty elf.” “Ummm… I love you too, Ethan. Thank you for doing this.” She kissed him sweetly then deepened the kiss.

He slid his hands down her back then below her skirt and found her bare bottom. Lifting her she wrapped her legs around him so he could carry her. She giggled softly as he carried her across the room to the desk, kissing her all the way. He set her down on the desk then stepped away and started wrestling his way out of the Santa suit.  “Hurry, Ethan. I need you.” she purred at him in the darkness. “This damn suit is not cooperating.” The fat padding was attached with Velcro to a spandex body suit. He tried taking the spandex off without removing the fat pads first but that wasn’t working so he rolled the spandex back up and started ripping the fat pads off. “I can’t see a damn thing.”  Tia giggled as she heard the rrrrrip, rrrrip of Velcro separating.  A few minutes later his hands cupped her face and he was kissing her again. Her hands explored the warmth of his bare chest and then wandered lower caressing his growing stiffness. His fingers found her wetness a moment later as he slipped one and then a second finger into her, curling them up and stroking across her g spot. He heard her breathing change and soft mewls marked the nearing crest of her passion. His voice was very low, “Lie back Darling. I need to be in you now.” He pulled his fingers from her even as she guided his velvety hardness into her. His arm slipped beneath her to protect her from the edge of the desk as he began to thrust. Ethan knew all the mechanics and still the wonder and marvel of making love to this precious woman shattered him and remade him every time. “Ethan… Ethan… I … “ Her back arched and he felt the storm within her clench around him and he was gone.  “Tia..” He held her to him tightly releasing deeply in her. “I..” They both heard the knock and Sienna’s voice in the hallway. “Tia?”  “I’m not sure exactly where she is, Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon. Maybe she’s down in Dr. Ramsey’s office. Let’s check there. I know they were going to be distributing gifts but I think they already finished.” …….. Merry Christmas!.....

#choices #choices 12 days of fictmas #12 days of fictmas 2020 #open heart #choices ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices open heart

[freddiesaysalright]

Peace Like A River - Epilogue

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader has found her peace in Gwilym. Violet shares how much it means to her on a special day.

Word Count: 1.6K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @simmisblog, @assembledherethevolunteers, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @readinghorn, @riddikuluslypotter, @doingalrightt, @misslolasworld, @lemurian-starship, @ravenedges-lies, @painkiller80, @imgonnabeyourslave, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @ixchel-9275, @sincerelygmg, @lv7867, @unicorn-princess-1999, @delilahmay39, @chlobo6, @dragon-out-of-water, @radio-hoo-ha, @agentmalfoy24601, @thigh-your-mother-down

A/N: Here is the super sappy promised epilogue! Y’all it is GUSHY but after such a wild ride, I thought they all deserved some pure love lol. Thank you all so much for the love you’ve shown this story. I had so much fun writing it and seeing how all of you reacted to the twists and turns. Please enjoy the last part of Peace Like a River :)

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V  Part VI  Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX  Part X  Part XI

Epilogue here we go!!!

You twisted one last curl around Violet’s face and pinned it carefully to the back of her head. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She was so beautiful, and you could see the excitement in her eyes. You leaned over her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“Are you nervous at all?” you wondered.

She shook her head. “No. Jamie is it for me. I know it.”

You grinned. “I’m so happy for you, baby. I just can’t believe you’re getting married.”

“Mom,” she groaned with a roll of her eyes, but she was still smiling. “I know I’ll always be your baby.”

“Yes, you will,” you assured her, giving her another small squeeze.

“Mom, I need to tell you something,” she said seriously. “Before the others get here.”

“The others” you knew referred to her younger siblings - Sybil, Olivia, and Tom. Your brow furrowed. What could she not say to them?

“What is it?” you asked.

“I was in New York for that conference - about a month ago - and I...well, I met up with Henry.”

You blinked and stepped back. “How did it go?”

She looked at her hands folded neatly on her lap. “Not great. Especially not after I told him about Dad.”

After you and Gwilym were married, he adopted Violet officially. Only then did you give her her father’s last name, Lee. You could imagine Henry hadn’t taken that well.

You knelt down in front of her and took her hands.

“Did he hurt you?” you asked, heart rate quickening with worry.

“No,” she said, trying to smile but it came out as more of a grimace. “No, not physically. He just yelled at me for a bit. It was frightening, for sure, but I just walked away.”

“Do you regret going?”

“No,” she repeated. “I was always curious about him. Now I know.”

“Do you want to tell your dad?” you wondered.

“Not today,” she said. “But at some point, I will. It made me realize how grateful I am for him. I’ve always loved him, but that whole encounter just...made it abundantly clear why.”

“The best thing to do now is forget him,” you said. “You have a wonderful father who loves you very much.”

“I know,” she returned, smiling in earnest now. “I know I do.”

Just then, Gwilym appeared in the doorway with Sybil and Olivia. They both gasped when they saw Violet and immediately began gushing about how great she looked. She beamed at her little sisters and embraced them excitedly. Gwilym stood frozen, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. You chuckled and slipped an arm around his waist.

“Shocked?” you questioned.

He nodded stiffly. “I can’t believe that’s our little girl.”

“I know,” you agreed. 

“I mean, I still remember her with whipped cream on her face and saying Merry Breakfast,” he said. “That feels like it was yesterday.”

“To me too,” you said. “But she’s not a little girl anymore.”

“No, she’s not,” he said. “She’s about to make Jamie the luckiest man in the world. Second to me, anyway.”

You giggled and kissed him on the cheek. Violet finally shook off her sisters and approached you and Gwilym. As she looked at him, you saw her eyes shining with tears. He wrapped her up in his arms.

“Scared, love?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I just love you so much.”

“Aw, I love you too, sweet girl,” he returned. “Are you ready? Jamie’s waiting for you.”

She took a deep breath and grinned. “I’m ready.”

Tom was a groomsman, so he was with Jamie. He was waiting to walk Sybil and Olivia down the aisle first. Then you and Gwilym would follow with Violet. She had insisted on you both giving her away for equality’s sake. You waited with her at the front of the aisle and you saw her squeeze Gwilym’s arm. The music changed and it was time for the bride to make her way to the groom.

The ceremony was beautiful. You cried through their vows - which Jamie and Violet had written themselves. Gwilym actually held up very well. You could see how happy he was for them. But he didn’t cry. He did put his arm around you to comfort you.

As the happy couple made their way back down the aisle as husband and wife, you leaned into Gwilym. He pressed his lips to your temple and whispered how much he loved you, exactly as he had done on your own wedding day. You closed your eyes and just let him hold you for a moment, taking you back to that time.

The reception hall was lovely. It was simple, with just a few lights scattered around to create a soft, warm glow. After pictures were over, you all settled at the head table with the bride and groom. Violet was absolutely glowing. She gave Jamie a sweet kiss and then she stood up, clinking a fork against her champagne glass. The room quieted and turned eyes on her.

“Thank you, everyone, for being here on this special day,” she began. “I feel so blessed to have so many friends and family who care for me and Jamie. We are truly grateful.”

She paused and took a deep breath.

“I wanted to say a few things before we get too far into the reception,” she said. “Some things that have been weighing on my heart in the days before my wedding.” She turned toward you and Gwilym. “Mom, Dad, as I thought about marriage, I realized I was ready because of the example you set. Watching you two instilled in me tools for navigating a partnership that have been fundamental in my relationship with Jamie, and will continue as the pillars of our marriage. Things like respect, understanding, open-mindedness, and most importantly unconditional love. I knew Jamie was the one for me because I recognized these qualities in him. Qualities I’d seen from the two people I admire most in the world.”

She took a sip of champagne.

“Gotta drink before this part because it’s about to get emotional,” she joked, and everyone chuckled.

“Mom,” she said, meeting your eyes. “To me, you’ve always been strength. You have survived so much, and you went through a literal hell for me. And yet, you never made me feel unwanted or like a burden. You have taught me to demand respect for myself and to work hard for the things I want. You’ve taught me more about loving myself than I could even conceive of. And you’ve shown me the value of taking chances. You are my biggest cheerleader, confidant, and friend. You are my inspiration. I love you so much.”

She finished with a smile. Through watery eyes, you blew her a kiss. She met Gwilym’s gaze then, and you saw tears spring to her eyes.

“Dad,” she said shakily, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat. “This is gonna be hard, but I promise I’m really happy.”

He laughed and smiled warmly at her. She cleared her throat.

“Dad,” she began again, stronger this time. “I don’t remember it, but I’ve been told the story of how I chose you my whole life. One day, I called you ‘Daddy’ and since then, you just were. I love that story, and I think it’s so incredible that I selected you out of all the men in the world to be that for me. But, um…” she trailed off, her bottom lip quivering. “But you chose me too. Lots of men would have run screaming from everything that Mom and I meant. But you stayed, when you had every reason to step back. No one would have blamed you. But you didn’t. So yes, I chose you once. But you chose me and my mother over and over and over again. And you gave us all of you every single day.”

She sniffled and paused again. A tear slid down her cheek.

“You’ve shown me what a good man looks like,” she choked out. “You’ve shown me what a good father looks like. You’ve shown me what love looks like. Thank you for choosing us.”

You looked over at Gwilym and saw tears flowing down his face. He was trying to wipe them away, but quickly decided it wasn’t worth it. He got up and reached his daughter in two strides, completely engulfing her in his embrace. You saw her shoulders shake with a sob as she beamed up at him, no longer bothering to hold back her tears either. You watched them together and felt like your heart was breaking and also dancing around inside your chest. 

Gwilym held Violet tight. He was overwhelmed with affection for her in this moment, though he never thought it possible to love her any more than he already did.

“I love you, my girl,” he whispered. “I will always choose you.”

She laughed through another sob and kissed his wet cheek. “I love you too, Dad.”

They made it through and finally, Jamie took Violet’s hand and led her out to the dance floor for their first dance. They’d actually gotten lessons to dance a foxtrot to Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend.” You looked at Gwilym, still dabbing your eyes.

“I can’t believe she did that,” he sighed. 

“I know, she got us good, huh?” you teased.

He laughed. “Look how happy she is.”

“We did okay with her,” you said, leaning on his shoulder.

“More than okay,” he replied. “She’s perfect.”

“Well done,” you told him. With a smile, you added, “Dear Friend.”

He kissed your forehead and smirked. “You as well, Dear Friend.”

Together, you watched your other children join Violet and Jamie on the floor. Your family was growing, and would continue to grow as each of them found their way in the world. You and Gwilym would always be there for them, providing a home, and showing them love. You were their peace, and they were yours.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x you #gwilym x reader #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #borhap imagine #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #Queen #queen x reader #queen x you #queen imagine #Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may x you #peace like a river series #borhap au

[astromechs]

anything that’s worth my love (is worth the fight)

idk, oneshot, character/relationship study thing, who knows. also i didn’t reread the bendis issues about the cancerverse before i wrote this, so i took some liberties and fuck bendis canon anyway

also on ao3!

i.

Peter Quill is a strange guy.

It’s not the most profound assessment, but it’s about the best that Rich has, even after almost three months of working with him. Just by looking at him, you’d think that he’d be one of those painfully serious guys out of an old movie, dark, brooding, and mysterious. But over time, it becomes clear that, in a lot of ways, he’s the opposite; he seems to come to life more and more by the day, a ghost of a smile here, something like a bad joke there, a lot of offhand comments that seemingly come out of nowhere but somehow prove to be completely relevant.

Rich finds that his eyes have developed a tendency to linger on Peter for probably longer than they should, as if just staring will somehow get him closer to figuring the guy out.

That’s it. Nothing more to it than that.

There’s no real reason that he’s continuing to watch as Peter walks away, and—

“Richard.” He’s still not used to the voice that’s now a part of him, yet he can't imagine life without it, either, somehow. (It’s not entirely a bad thing; he’ll take his comforts where he can get them, even if said comforts have an annoying habit of always waking him up in the middle of a few precious hours of sleep.) “I have found that your heart rate increases by an average of twelve percent whenever you are in the proximity of Peter Quill. I am analyzing — ”

“Shut up, Worldmind,” he cuts in flatly, but the words don’t leave his mind for weeks afterward.

ii.

Worldmind had calculated this plan’s probability of success to sit somewhere at approximately four percent, but Rich had thought that had been generous.

Direct assault has pretty much never been an option against the Annihilation Wave up to this point; this whole thing has been a game of finding the best time to evacuate civilians, and then retreat. He’d like for that to not be true, sure, because, well, maybe he hadn’t paid as much attention as he should have in his high school history classes, but he’s pretty sure no one has ever won a war purely through retreats. Even so, though, the fact is that even in the best case scenario of the United Front not running on basically a skeleton crew of troops, they’d still be massively overpowered, outgunned, and everything else.

But Peter had been right; something had to change to turn the tide, and this had been their best opportunity to strike. The crazy son of a schlag had just decided to do it himself before anyone else could argue.

That’s the long and short of how Rich had gotten here, crouched on the ground next to a second-in-command who had also just given them the biggest advantage they’ve had in months by putting himself in the blast radius of a well-placed bomb. And said second-in-command is still in one piece, somehow; a little worse for the wear, judging by the way he favors his right side as he tries to lift his body into a sitting position, but nothing that won’t see a full recovery.

There are about a million things on Rich’s mind, but each one gets away at light speed before he can grab on, and all he’s left with is a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that hasn’t managed to disappear. He swallows down the dryness in his throat, and when he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is:

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” Peter shrugs in response, and after a moment, he actually smirks through the blood trickling from his bottom lip. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

There’s a part of Rich that’s definitely pissed, but the rest of him can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

(And, okay, he can’t lie; he probably would’ve done the same thing.)

Peter Quill may, truly, be the craziest man he’s ever met in his life, but there’s a possibility that they could win this whole damn war because of him.

iii.

They’ve managed to gain some ground, but Krelar still falls.

It’s a brutal loss, probably the most brutal in a whole war full of them; a hidden horde of the Wave had decimated thousands of civilians before they could even retreat, and those who’d been left of the United Front had barely made it off the planet themselves. They’re all shaken, deeply, and Rich had ordered everyone to tend to their wounds and get some sleep before reconvening at the end of the night cycle.

An order he knows he won’t follow himself.

He tries, though, for a time, tries to lie back on his pillow in his quarters and shut his eyes; he can go without rest longer than most, but even with the entire Nova Force inside him, he’s still pushing his limits. But when he does, he sees Kree falling on all sides, hears their screams as they do. He sees Xandar dying around him, just as he has in his mind’s eye. Death, just death, and even with all this power, he’s always helpless to do nothing but watch it happen….

His feet hit the floor, wander the corridors aimlessly, until they end up at the door of Peter’s quarters.

It opens before he can even knock.

They stand there for a time in silence, Peter looking as lost and haunted as he feels. There’s nothing to say, anyway; no platitudes will bring the planet back, gallows humor can only go so far, and with both of those options gone, well. That’s it.

Except —

Peter leans in and presses his mouth to Rich’s, and Rich doesn’t take the time to think about what’s happening, instead pulling Peter’s body as close to his as possible. They stumble through the doorway like this, a tangle of lips and hands searching for some kind of solid reassurance.

It doesn’t make anything better, because there’s nothing that can, but by the time Rich wakes up after managing a couple of hours of sleep, head resting on Peter’s bare chest and the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat in his ear, he thinks he can stand on solid enough ground to take a next step.

iv.

“Let me buy you a beer” had turned into three over the past hour, with a fourth probably soon to come, and while Rich feels guilty about it on some level, Peter continues to insist. It’s returning the favor, he says, for the tip about Knowhere, which has proven to be a pretty good base for his team, some hiccups aside. And:

“You look like you need it more than I do.”

After the — week, month, six months, year? — he’s had, he can’t really find it in him to argue.

Starlin’s has most of its usual clientele this evening, the loud, violent crowd that sees at least three bar fights broken up before it’s forced to disperse. A few broken bottles fly past their table at various points through this, but they’re otherwise left alone; being a war hero commands some respect in certain ways.

“I went back,” Rich finds himself saying a time after the bar quiets down, swirling the mug in his hand absently. “To Earth, I mean. First time since everything went down.”

Peter turns in his seat, attention fully focused on him, something like concern in his eyes (both human, no cybernetics anywhere, which is still taking some getting used to). He doesn’t say anything, and Rich takes that as his cue to continue.

“It was like…” He trails off, and it takes him a moment to commit to a train of thought. “No one even cared. The universe as we know it was almost gone, and all anyone could think about was fighting among themselves. This whole damn galactic war happening right above their heads, and nothing even changed for them.”

It all has a bitter taste coming out of his mouth, more than he’d actually intended it to, but he can’t deny that now that it’s out there, he feels like a massive weight has been taken off of his chest. He feels — better, somehow.

“But.” Rich drains the rest of the contents his mug after a beat. “Home is home, you know.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, and Rich thinks it sounds a little distant. “Home is home.” He reaches a hand toward one of Rich’s, gives it a brief squeeze before letting go.

Maybe it’s the fourth beer he’s now starting, but Rich has a wild thought that right here, right now, he could feel more at home than he has anywhere in a long time.

v.

It’s so quiet that the sound of Rich’s own breathing pounds in his ears. For a reality where life has supposedly won, it seems awfully dead; visibility stretches for miles on end, and as far as he can tell, there isn’t a single sign of movement anywhere. Worldmind’s report from his helmet’s scanners chime in at the thought, but confirm what he already knew.

He peels off his helmet, because everything’s getting too stuffy. He thinks it shouldn’t surprise him that that doesn’t provide any kind of relief.

Next to him, Peter kicks the Cosmic Cube on the ground, and it clinks against an outcropping of rock.

“Thing’s dead,” he says, voice still breathless from their last seemingly never-ending encounter with the Revengers, from dying and being resurrected repeatedly. (Turns out, that kind of thing can take a toll. Who knew.) “Next time they come back, we’re gonna get our asses kicked even worse.”

Rich’s eyes drop to the ground, drift over to the Cube and stay there as something starts to occur to him. It’d had one shot, sure, and they’d already blown it, but what if a source of massive power could charge it again? What if — “Maybe not.”

He’s trapped here, probably forever; it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. He accepts it, too, because he’d known his choices when he’d followed Peter in here, and if he could do everything all over again, he wouldn’t change any of them. Robbie, his mom and dad, every single being on countless worlds are safe. That’s what matters.

But before that door is shut for good, he can open another. One he himself can’t walk through, because someone has to hold it; it’s the only way.

Peter deserves so much more than being stuck here in a barren wasteland, fighting and dying and coming back to life again, and again, and again. He deserves a chance to live in the universe that he’d helped to save. And Rich can give him that; it’s the least he owes him. For everything.

He bends down to gently lift the Cosmic Cube with the tips of his fingers.

“Rich — ?” It seems to dawn on Peter before he can even finish the question, and out of the corner of his eye, Rich can see Peter’s widen in horror. “Rich, wait.”

He closes his eyes and concentrates, tuning out the screams and everything else around him.

“Rich!”

Nova Force rips through his cells, and it feels almost warm.

#richard rider #peter quill #riderquill #* fic #my stuff #throws canon out the window #yeet #also here's to me singlehandedly repping the rich rider fandom on ao3 right now #why does that guy have like no fics about him smh!! #also after a point i stopped proofreading this and just decided to yeet it so please tell me if there are issues thank u

[lovehugsandcandy]

Hold Me Like  a Grudge (Colt x MC)

A/N: Chapter 11 had me shook! This is Colt x MC  5+1 story and I have no idea how this happened. This is in a different universe than It’s Only a Game, which I am still working on the next part, promise. Title from Weak by AJR, though I binge the Halloran & Kate/May Raya version. You will also probably recognize a lot of the dialogue from the actual Choices story. 

Pairing: Colt x MC

Rating: PG-13 (swearing and kissing)

Length: 4250 words (how did this happen?!?)

Summary: 5 times Ellie couldn’t kiss Colt and 1 time she couldn’t not.

Tags (LMK if you want to if you want me to add or remove you, tag lists are not my forte): @deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is only for fun.

I

“Me? Jealous of Logan? That’s a good one. You should try stand-up comedy if college doesn’t work for you.” Colt rolled his eyes and looked out the window.

Ellie stared at his profile. “I think you’ve been jealous since the first time you saw us together.”

Colt turned, catching her eye. “Just....” Ellie waited. “Keep your eyes on the road, will ya?”

Ellie rolled her eyes and focused on the cones as he talked her thought the mechanics of drifting, but her first attempt did not go well. She got the wheels to break traction, sliding across the pavement, but it felt so counter intuitive that she pulled up in the turn; after the car spun out and they were surrounded by the smell of burnt rubber, she sighed, banging her head against the headrest.

“You got in your own head. You didn't trust yourself.”

"It’s hard when everything you’re doing feels wrong. Turn right to go left?” She leaned back and shut her eyes. 

“Drifting takes fearlessness. Total confidence. Even when you think you’re going the wrong way, you gotta stay the course.”

Ellie shot him a glare. “Easier said than done.”

He raised an eyebrow right back at her. “What isn’t?”

At Ellie’s sigh, he continued. “There is a trick some drivers use.....” She listened carefully as he talked about punching the clutch to increase the RPMs and then quick releasing. Of course, then he continued, “You’re right. You’re not ready. Come on, let’s get you back to your test...”

She strewed in the driver’s seat. Screw him. She started again, back towards the cones, glaring at the pavement. Colt glanced at her, “You’re just gonna embarrass yourself.” Looking at the RPMs, she bit her lip and dove in, hearing the tires squeal underneath her. She bit her lip. Come on...come on....and the car shot out of the turn.

Ellie’s mouth dropped. “Ok, that was awesome!″

“Knew you could do it.” Colt was smiling at her and Ellie felt her chest clench. He was always so bitter or angry or sarcastic, but she had rarely seen him smile. To see it bloom on his face, directed at her, was too much; she had to duck her head.

“Yeah right. You just said I was gonna embarrass myself.”

“Doesn’t matter who else believes in you. You gotta believe in yourself.” Ellie looked up to see him staring at her, intense

“Oh I get it. You were messing with me.” Ellie raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, you should take your own advice.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter if your dad believes in you or not.”

Colt let out a chuckle. “Sorry if I’m not convinced by family advice coming from you but you’re probably right.” He glanced out the windshield. “Easier said than done, though.”

“What isn’t?” Ellie watched as he turned back to her and considered her for a long while. Time seemed to stretch as they watched each other. Ellie felt her eyes drift down his face; he was attractive, so attractive, when he wasn’t spewing aggression and scorn. She found herself staring at his lips and had to stop herself from thinking some dangerous thoughts..

She knew she definitely shouldn't be thinking about Colt this way. When she told Riya that she wanted to find love, she meant that she wanted someone to put her first for once; she didn’t think Colt could ever put anyone above himself.

“...I thought I had you pegged.”

Ellie blinked to clear the haze in her mind. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” And just like that, the moment was over. “Let’s get you to your test.”

They switched seats and Ellie slid into the passenger’s side, trying to stop her mind from spinning. But all the way back to the RMV, Ellie found herself sneaking glances at Colt as he drove, confident and sure, through the busy LA streets. 

And after she learned she finally had her license and was jumping up and down next to the car, she definitely didn’t think about hugging Colt. Not even once.

II

She ran out of the shadows behind Colt, eyes fixed on Kaneko’s still form. “Kaneko! Are you ok?”

He looked up at them from the ground, leg splayed awkwardly. “Ellie? Colt? What the hell are you doing here?

"We tailed you, Pop. We were protecting you.” Colt’s mouth was a thin line as he put his arm out to help his dad to his feet, eyes flashing angrily.

“So...you heard everything.” Kaneko’s eyes dropped.

Ellie frowned, glancing between the two. “This last job. They don’t mean it, do they?”

“I’m afraid not,” Kaneko looked at the warehouse, eyes distant. “They have no intention of letting us go.”

“No one is playing games with us. We’ll find a way out of this, I promise.” Colt’s resolve reminded her, again, that this was in his blood. 

She took a breath. “I’ve got your back, Colt. Whatever happens, I’m ready to fight dirty.” 

Ellie watched the shock on his face fade into an honest smile. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He turned to his father, determined. “I promise you, Pop. I can help you solve this.”

“We will,” Kaneko said as he put his hand on Colt’s shoulder, “together.”

Ellie watched, uneasy, as Colt and Kaneko headed towards the Aylesbury and Colt helped his dad in the car. 

Ellie watched Kaneko drive off until his taillights disappeared into the night. Letting out a sigh, she turned to see Colt biting his lip and staring at her.

“What?” It came out meaner than she meant it. It was an intense night and she was on edge.

Colt shrugged. “Nothing. I just didn’t expect you of all people to be all-in on a plan to take out a rival crew.”

She looked at him incredulously. “Take out? I’m sorry, you’re not the mob. And we need to do something or they will never let go.” She was on edge; the adrenaline was starting to wear off and she just wanted to crawl into bed, into her pajamas, and sleep.

“Well, we have to do something. We can’t just let them push us around!”

She shook her head, grabbing her keys from her pocket and turning towards the car. “I know. I mean....they hurt your dad. I get it.”

Colt grabbed her arm, turning so he could look into her eyes. The shadows played over his face as he moved and she stopped, watching them dance over his eyes. After a pause, he spoke. “Thank you.” He stopped again, biting his lip. “Just....thank you.”

“Of course.” Ellie looked at him. He was still holding on to her arm. The moment stretched on but she couldn’t look away. Her stomach lurched, butterflies fluttering. He was still holding her arm, wholly intent, staring at her. The butteries in her stomach intensified, made her feel like she was falling, gravity pulling her down. Hitting rock bottom would hurt.

She subconsciously licked her lips and saw Colt follow the movement. The butterflies got worse, as if they had morphed into a full-on army staging an attack on her senses. Crap.

“Keys!” Ellie raised her arm, displaying her car keys in her hands.

Colt dropped her arm, taking a step back. “Yes, those are keys. Very good.”

“I mean....” Ellie flushed. “We should get back to the shop.”

Colt nodded, silent, and turned to the car.

Crap.

III

Ellie grinned. "Well...we didn’t just come up here to stare, right?” Before she could talk herself out of it, she had stripped down to her underwear, clothes in pile on the ground. 

“You wanna jump? Seriously?” Colt turned and caught sight of her; she saw his eyes widen, but he swallowed hard and quickly looked away before she could process it.

“Seriously!” 

“Okay! Okay! You’ve made your point!” He took off his jacket and shirt; Ellie couldn’t help but glance down his chest. How in the world? Ellie flushed. He had no right to have abs like that. Guiltily, she looked away; who knew what he was hiding under that jacket?

Was this what playing with fire was like?

Colt looked over at the cliff. “I know what I’m in for. Do you?”

“Nope! On the count of three...”

Colt looked over at her, cocking an eyebrow as if he expected her to back down. When she only looked at him expectantly, he grinned. “One, two....three!”

Together, they sprinted to the edge and, at the last minute, Ellie’s hand found Colt’s as they flew into the air.

“Aaaaaah!” She screamed and Colt squeezed her hand as they began to plummet, seemingly forever, until they splashed into the ocean. When Ellie surfaced, beaming and shaking water from her face, she was still clutching Colt’s hand.

“Man, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.” Colt grinned at her.

“See? Are you done downplaying everything?”

Ellie looked at him and was shocked by the intensity in his eyes as he stared back at her. “....Maybe I am.”

They floated together, face to face, and Ellie had no idea when they had gotten so close. She could see the droplets of water in his eyebrows, on his cheeks, edging to his jaw. She watched his gaze, moving from her eyes down her face to settle on her lips.

Crap, when did they get so close?

Ellie let herself float away from him, releasing his hand, needing space before she did something ridiculously dumb.

Colt turned away, ears red. “Sorry, that was stupid. I know you’re with Logan.”

“I’m not with Logan.” Ellie was so confused. It felt like her brain was not keeping up. “Logan and I are just friends.”

“What, like us?”

Ellie just shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, me either.” Colt just shot her a wounded look and started heading for shore.

Ellie shivered in the cool water.

IV

When Ellie pictured breaking away from her old life, this rave was exactly what she had been picturing. Lights, colors, drinks, dancing. She was so far from her old life that she almost couldn’t recognize herself...especially not in Mona’s outfit, the colors lighting her body as if she glowed from within. 

She can't help but love it, bouncing and jumping with Toby and laughing as Salazar creates some dance move that looks like it requires him to be triple-jointed. She finally feels free, a freedom here that she never knew she was missing until she had it.

When Toby went off to dance with the handsome stranger eyeing him, Ellie realized that she too could ask someone to dance too. She feebly looked around the room, but she already knows who she wants to dance with .

“Come on, Colt.” She slid over to him, gesturing to the dance floor.

He looked at her and then glanced back at the crew. “I...don’t really dance.”

“Me neither!” She grinned wide, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. “Now, come on!” She dragged him deeper onto the dance floor, not stopping until she knew they were out of sight of the others.

Colt grinned and she saw his shoulders relax. “Been waiting to get you to myself all day.” She bit her lips as he pulled her closer, into his arms. Tilting her chin up to look into her eyes, he started guiding her hips. “Like this. Follow me.”

Ellie smiled, butterflies back in her stomach. “I’m starting to think you might like me.” Her unspoken I’m starting to think I might like you hung in the back of her throat.

Colt shook his head. “I don’t like anybody.” However, he smiled as he said it; it is so strange to see him so happy. Ellie started to worry she might like it a little too much but she ignored her voice of reason, wrapping her hands around his neck as he grabbed her waist. 

They are so close, inches from each other. “Is Logan watching?”

Ellie frowned. “You don’t want him to see us?”

“Is it bad that part of me does?”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I’m not a possession for you two to fight over, Colt. I’m a person.” Not a pawn, she thought bitterly.

“You’re far more than that, Ellie.”

Ellie looked at him for a beat. “So your plan worked. I think you really impressed your dad today.” She was happy for him, she was. She knew how important his dad’s approval was to him.

“Did I impress you?” Colt stared so intently at her that she started to blush; she couldn’t look away.

“It takes more than that to impress me.”

Colt grinned, ducking his head and freeing her from his gaze. “Good.”

Ellie felt his arms tighten around her waist and she responded in kind, almost automatically, grinding her hips against him, sending shock waves though her body.

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance.”

Ellie had never danced like this before. “It’s like Ximena said. I’m doing what feels good.” His arms around her, hips meeting in slow circles. It felt really good.

He leaned in closer, so close she could feel the air from his lungs as he spoke, making her lips tingle. “Then you should keep doing what feels good.”

Ellie froze, feeling like she was caught in a net. Any move forward would mean their lips would meet and she felt it, the almost irresistible desire to fall forward into him. She hung in the moment for a second, maybe longer, but then just pulled him closer, grazing his cheek with hers as their bodies melded together.

“You know I’d kill for the people I care about, right? But that’s a very short list.” He spoke in her ear and she could again feel his breath against her skin; she felt oversensitive, every nerve lighting up.

Ellie pulled back to look into his eyes and was stunned by the intensity in his gaze. “Are you saying I’m on it?”

He said nothing and Ellie stared, looking from his eyes, piercing through her, traveling down his face to watch his lips. The moment was electric and Ellie swallowed, hard. She forced herself to look away and Colt just pulled her tighter, moving her in time with the music with gentle hands around her waist.

They returned to the crew together and Colt was by her side all night. More than once, Ellie watched him, staring at his profile. She had basically run away from home to live her life her way, take chances, make mistakes.

Why were there some chances she was still terrified to take?

V

Ellie stared out the window and shook her head. Some of her original fury had worn off and now she just felt tired, sad, and alone.

“You belong with someone who knows how much you’re capable of.” Colt stared at her, clutching the steering wheel of her car. He understood her more than anyone, more than Riya, more than her dad, and still....

She didn’t know if she could do this. After all that had happened, she didn’t know if she could combine both of these parts of her life.

She shook her head. “That’s a nice fantasy, Colt, But it’s just a fantasy. It's time I get back to the real world. I need to clean up the mess I’ve made of my life.”

“Yeah....I get that.” Colt frowned at her.

“I wish....” Ellie sighed, trailing off. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I wish.”

Colt leaned over, across the console, and put a gentle hand on her cheek. She leaned into it and prayed that the tears wouldn’t make their way down her cheeks. Colt looked sad, wrecked, and said, softly, “It does to me.”

Ellie could almost feel her heart break in her chest. “It doesn’t do us any good to talk about that now.”

“I’ve never been interested in doing any good.”

Ellie turned to look out at Riya’s house. Crap. The tears were starting to roll down her cheeks. She roughly swiped at them, trying to hide motion from Colt. She knew he saw but, thankfully, chose not to say anything. She watched the morning wind rustle the trees, the light reflecting off Riya’s windows. 

Finally, she turned back to him. He was still looking at her, a crease between his eyes, lips down-turned. She ached to reach out, smooth the creases on his forehead, finally find out how soft his lips were....

She had to stop. It was time to go back. With a noise in between a sigh and a sob, she grabbed the handle of the car door and pushed it open. 

The morning air felt cool on her face. Refreshing. Someone was starting their car down the street, probably heading to work. Even that routine noise seemed surreal given her last few days.

Colt closed his door, snapping her out of her thoughts. He tossed her the keys, her keys. “Take the car, will ya? Toby never’d forgive me if I didn’t make you keep it.”

“How will you get back?”

“Don’t worry about me.” She frowned. It was a little late for that. She couldn’t help but worry about the boy who was constantly trying to take on the world.

Ellie nodded. “See you around, Colt. Maybe.”

She watched his back as he walked down the street, smaller and smaller still until he vanished into the distance. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

1

Colt's eyes were furious, absolutely furious, and, if Ellie didn’t understand him as well as she did, she would have been terrified. He was glaring at her, eyes a blaze of anger, and she could see his arms vibrating, shaking with the energy it took to hold himself back.

Ellie could not, would not back down. "Colt.....we can't do this."

His nostrils were flaring as he sucked in heavy breaths.

"You know we can't do this." She held his glare, refusing to look away.

Finally, Colt turned to his dad. "Fine. Plan's off. Get the stuff out of here." With one last glare at Ellie, he turned and bent to grab a rock from the ground. Ellie watched him throw it, far, through the window of The Brotherhood’s warehouse hideout. Crap. Hopefully they couldn’t trace that bit of property damage back to the crew.

Colt kicked another rock, sending it scattering across the warehouse, and stormed over to his bike. Ellie took a few steps forward. “Colt....”

He turned with a snarl, dark eyes barely visible. “Don’t talk to me.” He slammed the visor down, revved the bike, and sped off.

Ellie felt tears fill her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She could only hope that she had done the right thing.

~~~~~

Colt didn’t return to the shop for hours, hours. Ellie sat, watching the minutes click by on her phone. One by one, the crew had gone to bed after a draining night but Ellie could not sleep. With a sigh, she threw herself into her driver’s side door and backed out into the dark street. She knew Colt would not be happy to see her, but she also knew she couldn’t leave him to his demons right now.

The off-ramp was dark. She parked far away and walked, avoiding branches and stones, until the path opened up and she was looking out over the cliff and the Pacific Ocean. A lone figure sat, arms crossed over his knees, staring out in to the horizon. Ellie sighed and walked closer.

“I told you to leave me alone.” He hadn’t even turned his back.

“I know.” Ellie looked at her hands. “And, if you really want me to go, I will. But I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Colt stood up, unfurling, dark against the night sky. “We had them, Ellie. We had them. Why the hell...”

“Colt, what you had was enough explosives to take out a city block. You were going too far and, if you did that, you would have never been safe. They would have hunted you, hunted your dad. Not to mention you could have been killed-”

He cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. “We’re not safe now, Ellie. This doesn’t make us any safer-”

“This wasn’t about your freedom!” Ellie’s voice, louder now, harsher, echoed around the cliff. “This wasn't about getting out from under their thumb. This was about revenge.”

Colt stalked closer. His eyes had lost some of the fire but they were still burning, flaring. She was the moth and he was the flame and his fire was going to consume her. “Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you, if it was your dad? If it was someone you cared about?”

Ellie stared back. She knew he was right. She would. For all that she rebelled against her father, she could understand Colt’s anger. She would.

Colt shook his head, looking into the distance. “This was our shot. And we threw it away.”

“There will be another shot, Colt. We can think of another plan. One that gets us freedom and not a turf war.”

“We? We? No, you took off to go back to your real life.” Colt laughed bitterly. “There’s no we. It’s me. I will need to think of something. Again.” He turned his back on her, looking back at the ocean. He was all sharp movements and pain, shoulders rigid.

Ellie stood, waited. The silence stretched so long she swore she could see the moon traveling though the sky. She was about to give up and turn back to the car when she had a thought. “....Colt? Why did you listen to me?”

He turned, hallway, profile sharp. A light wind started blowing and Ellie shivered. Finally, he turned around to face her, considering her. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, shrugging and looking down. “You’re smart. I always listen to you.”

“That is not tru-”

“It is and I do. You know you’re smart.” Colt paused, considering. “I trust you, My dad hates it. But I trust you.”

“Ha. I don't think your dad is going to be happy about this.”

Colt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but he wasn’t happy when I fought for you to drive in the stadium tunnels or when I told you how Logan tricked you. He’ll get over it.”

Ellie took a few steps closer, mind racing. “Colt, you don’t need to choose me over your dad.”

“You chose.” She was close enough that she could see him clearly now, even in the dark. His hair was mussed, t-shirt wrinkled. 

Ellie’s heart hurt. “I need to fix my life, see my dad, my friends. But maybe I don’t want it to be all or nothing, either.” Colt looked at her, brow raised questioningly. “Maybe I can help fix this too.” Colt still said nothing so she took a step closer. “You’re not on your own here, Colt. I want to help.”

Colt looked away, back towards the road, and shook his head. “It doesn’t work like-”

Ellie cut him off with her lips, closing the distance and pressing her lips to his, chastely. It was an apology, a question, and a wish all thrown together in one last-ditch effort to fix what had shattered.

Colt froze and didn’t move an inch. When she pulled back, he was staring at her, almost gaping. She could hear her heart pounding, blood rushing in her ears, but he didn’t speak. 

She dropped her eyes and nodded. He didn’t kiss her back. No answer was definitely an answer. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she turned and headed back to the car. 

The walk back from the cliff seemed infinitely longer than the walk out and she had to blink back tears every few steps so she could follow the path. Sometimes you can’t fix broken things...or broken people.

She had just pulled out her car keys, desperate to slide back into the driver’s seat and put some distance between them, when she heard rapid footsteps coming up the path. She spun as Colt emerged, breathless and staring at her.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?” Ellie wasn’t keeping up.

“Did you mean it?” Colt repeated. “Are you in?”

Ellie took a deep breath. “If you still want.”

Colt closed the distance between them. “I still want.” She caught sight of his grin as he pulled her into his arms and his lips met hers. This, this was more than a one-sided meeting of lips. Colt kissed her like did everything, full-throttle, intense. She felt his hands circle her waist and back her into the car door, trapping her between the cool metal and his warm chest, a comforting weight against her. He pulled back to look at her and she was sure that he could see her amazement reflected in his eyes. Colt grinned down at her, eyes shining in the moonlight.

Ellie grinned up right back, threading her fingers though his hair for one last kiss. “Let’s go back to the shop. We have a plan to make.” She held his smile for a beat more before turning to get into her car. She didn’t know what would happen next but she knew she wouldn’t leave Colt to get out of this mess alone. Even when you think you’re going the wrong way, sometimes, you gotta stay the course.

#colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt rod #playchoices fanfic #choices rod #amy writes

[human-trash-fire]

Beautiful Disaster: Chapter 2

Hello loves, the following is the second installment of my Pynch fic! as usual you can find it on Ao3 @glam_reaper2 

TW: Blood and honestly some just big sads/ hospital/ references to grief and self harm.

His phone had not stopped its incessant Rhythm atop his nightstand. Adam was staring blankly at it. ringing... ringing, and then flashing: BLUE (missed call). She’d been trying to reach him for two days and he had yet to move from his bed for more than a quick trip to the bathroom. He’d shot a text to Boyd telling him he had a family emergency, skipped classes, and stood vigil alone in a sea of blankets. 

Grieving. 

His heart ripped from his chest by a man he’d never learn to love. His happy ending. Every color he’d dreamt of seeing, swallowed him whole. How was the world outside so bright? Who gave it the right to be so radiant, when hope had bleed out on the concrete in a back alley.

He closed his eyes, and let the dark drag him back.

The sound of a key turning the lock of his front door woke him. He knew it would be Blue, his best friend of four years, the only person other than his landlord who had access. He burrowed further into the covers and stared blankly at his bedroom door, waiting for the inevitable. 

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEE- oh…. Adam.” What had begun at a yell, drifted to a near whisper when her eyes found his. They were big, and the richest brown, Adam would have been lost in the color if he had the strength to feel. 

“Adam, what happened?” She whispered, coming to perch at his side, delicate hand reaching to touch his cheek.

“He’s dead Blue. He died. I- I couldn’t, I- “

“Shhh, it’s okay. Who Adam, what happened? Who died?”

My heart died. 

His eyes shifted to her left hand which was firmly gripping his. “Your nails don’t match Blue, they’re all different.”

“My wha- oh… OH GOD. ADAM! You found them? When did this happen? This is amazing! No, no don’t cry, fuck…Sweetheart.. what happened?”

He looked up then, her face a mask of concern as she wiped the tears falling from his eyes in splashing drops. 

“I… I was going to Boyd’s. There was screaming. There was so much blood Blue, it- it was everywhere. I tried to help, I- I couldn’t stop the blood. And then everything was bright and it was so red. Everything was so red. And warm. And cold. And I couldn’t sto-stop it. I-“ he choked on a series of sobs that wracked his whole being. He couldn’t find it in himself to stop. Blue kicked off her green boots and crawled into the covers, holding him tight to her chest as he cried. 

For hours she said nothing, allowing him the comfort of touch, and the space to grieve. He was completely broken, and she held the shattered pieces of his soul so tight, as if she could glue him back together with force alone. 

At some point he had fallen asleep, and when he woke Blue brought him water. He mustered the courage to tell her what had happened in the alley, tears flowing down both their faces when he finally made it through. 

“I don’t,” he released a shuttered breath, and tried again. “I don’t know what to do now Blue… there’s nothing, no happy ending. It’s… everything I’ve done.. I’m alone. I’m alone, again.”

“No. You’re not alone. You have me.” She stated, fact. “You have Henry. You have grad school and a future, and you’re going to change the world. This? This is horrific, but this is not the end for you. I promise.”

She was earnest in the way that only Blue could be. He heard the words, and wished they were true, but this felt like the end. 

“I…. I never even knew his name. How can I- how- I can’t even grieve Blue. I don’t know who I lost,” Adam whispered.

“Your heart knows, love, that’s enough.”

****

His eyes were heavy. His body felt like it was weighed down by sandbags, and his throat was on fire. He stirred slightly, trying to open his eyes, to lift his head. Water he thought, but the word never fell from his lips. 

He heard the muffled sound of a chair scrape back, and suddenly there was a cup being pressed to his lips. A warm hand holding his head steady, allowing the liquid to coat his ravaged throat. 

Ronan felt like death. Which was funny to him because, had he actually been dead, he imagined he’d feel a lot better. He choked on the cold, and the cup was removed. The telltale click of it being set somewhere off to the side, though the hand never left his face.

“Ronan…” Gansey. His voice was hollow, and the name on his lips was like a whispered question. 

“Mmm,” he hummed a non-committal sound, and tried again to peel his eyes open. He was met with bright light, and squinted, the blurry face of his friend slowly coming into focus before him when his breath caught.

“Dick,” he croaked. “Your eyes…” He still couldn’t breath. The world narrowed down to two pools of light-brown, rimmed pink, and set above purple shadows.

“What? Ronan, what’s wrong?”

“Fuck.. your- they’re- brown…” He trailed off, and felt Gansey stiffen from his perch at Ronan’s side.

“....What?” Gansey spoke, nearly inaudible. 

“I said they’re brown, Dick. THEY ARE FUCKING BROWN!” his scream was met with a surge of noise from the machine to his right, and that’s when he realized he didn’t know where he was. 

The world around Gansey’s eyes flew into focus, and he found himself in a hospital room. White walls, scratchy sheets, yellow lights.

He hated hospitals. 

“What the fuck happened? Who touched me Dick, WHO FUCKING TOUCHED ME?” He was hysterical. The beeping from the machine intensified with the beat of his heart. I’m having a fucking heart attack.

Gansey was pulled back by a team in scrubs, they swarmed the bed and spoke quickly. He couldn’t breath normally, his chest to fucking tight. His wrists searing flame. His heart a staccato beat hammering his ribs. He was dizzy. 

He was going to die. 

This is it.

Ronan felt the cool of a liquid being pushed through the IV in his hand, and as sleep came to claim him once more, he heard himself say “Who touched me..” then it was only a dream.

~~

He woke again, minutes, hours, days later, to the sound of hushed voices. This time, he stayed still. He didn’t want to be awake. He didn’t want to be here.

“- I asked Noah,” Gansey said.

“And?” Declan. Fuck.

“And, he doesn’t know.. He never got a name.”

“We’re sure it wasn’t one of the paramedics?” Mathew. Shit. Ronan wished his little brother wasn’t here to see him like this.

“I asked everyone on the scene, even the cops present just to make sure. It had to be the- Hey, Ronan. How are you feeling?” Gansey’s whisper morphed into the “Senator’s son” voice easily as his eyes found Ronan awake, and watching the group meeting in the corner.

“Fucking fantstic Dick.” He croaked, then swallowed hard, fighting the bile rising in his throat. They don’t know his name. He didn’t want me. He left m- Ronan smothered the thought in a blanket of self-hatred. Of course he didn’t want this, who would? 

The bed sank next to him and he turned to see Mathew’s beautiful head of curls softly lit in the low light of the room. “Hey buddy.”

“I’m sorry,” Mathew’s bottom lip quivered, and silver lined his ice blue eyes. “I, we, should have- I’m..” the sentence ended in a sob, and his head fell against Ronan’s chest. 

“Shhh, shh, shh.. Matty it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong, I promise. I love you, okay?” He brought a bandaged wrist up to rest lightly on Mathew’s back. Even the slight movement sent dizzying pain down his arm. Ronan met Declan’s hard gaze over the head of curls. He looked tired; wrinkled and unshaved. His eyes, like Gansey’s, were circled pink, but his jaw was set. 

He was pissed. 

He made his way to Mathew’s side and gently pried him from Ronan. 

“Hey, do you think you and Gansey could go find us some real coffee? I can’t stand the vending machine anymore and I think we could all use some? Maybe you could even find Ronan some jello? I’m sure he’d love it.” Mathew dried his eyes, smiled, and nodded. Gansey moved to open the door, and Ronan saw Declan mouth thank you. Gansey’s head dipped subtly, and the door closed behind him with an echoed click. 

Silence. 

“I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Ronan growled. 

“Well that’s too fucking bad.” Declan spoke, tone hard. “What the hell were you thinking? Christ Ronan-“ 

“It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“It matters a great deal actually. Do you know what it was like? I got a call from Gansey telling me that Noah found-“ he took a deep, shuttering breath. “Found you, I.. I had to tell Mathew. How could you be so selfish?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Ronan turned his face away. “I’m still here, so you can fuck off back to hell anytime. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh fuck you.” Declan spat. “You don’t get to do this anymore.”

Ronan ignored him, rage boiling beneath his skin. He wanted to be left alone. He took a deep breath, in through his mouth, out, slowly through his nose. A smoker’s breath, and closed his eyes. 

“This shit, whatever has gotten into you? I’m done, Ronan. You’re done.” Declan spoke frankly. “I’ve already called a rehab center in Arlington-“

“No.”

“-and seeing as you’re on a 72 hour hold as it is, they’re willing to take you in.” Declan continued as if Ronan had never spoken. “You’ll finish your detox there. Gansey has already sent over your clothes.”

“I said no. Get the fuck out!” Ronan snapped, opening his eyes to glare at Declan with a look that had brought lesser men to their knees.

“You don’t get a choice. Either you go, and save yourself, or you continue on this path of self destruction alone. I will not allow you into Mathew’s life if you choose the latter, he won’t be made to watch you deteriorate any longer.”

Ronan closed his burning eyes, once more.

“I’m sorry,” Declan whispered. “I-we can’t do this anymore Ronan. You’re breaking us. We love you, but we won’t help you destroy yourself.”

Silent tears slipped from beneath his closed lashes, running tracks to the starched pillows below. 

“I’m tired.”

Declan sighed, bringing his hand to squeeze Ronan’s once, lightly, before making his way through the door. 

“I’m sorry.” Ronan whispered to Declan. To no one. To everyone. To him. 

#BD au #pynch #pynch fic #pynch au #ronan lynch #adam parrish #ronan x adam #trc #trc fanfiction #au #ao3fic

[thathopelessromantic]

i’ll love you ‘til my breathing stops

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Rating: T+ (for character death) Pairing: EraserMight (Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x Yagi Toshinori/All Might) Note:  This was saved on my computer as "bnha but its gonna hurt." Title from Lorde's "Writer in the Dark" because...well that's my favorite line in the song and its not like the death is a secret anyhow. 

He learns the truth, like everyone else, when its already too late to do anything but deal with the fallout.

AO3: (x)

Heroes have secrets. Much of their lives are defined by them, certainly much more than most civilians would ever think. Aizawa Shouta had tried his damnedest to keep his very identity a secret, in order to keep fighting. And Yagi Toshinori - All Might - had carried a secret heavier than most could ever imagine; that the Symbol of Peace would one day lose his quirk, that anyone could possibly one day lose something so key to themselves.

Midoriya Izuku is waiting outside when he arrives. Shouta had gotten used to seeing Pro-Hero Deku on the news and plastered across magazine stands. The world had been watching him for so long, there was no surprise he had jumped in popularity after his graduation. It had been a long time, however, since he had seen Midoriya.

The young man is taller than him now, unsurprisingly. He's bigger, all around it seems, except his hair which has finally been tamed into something a little more reasonable. His sleeves are stretched around scarred arms as he clenches and unclenches a fist, restless. Always restless. His shoes are still red.

Shouta clears his throat, because he's not sure what else to do to make himself known, and because Midoriya was the one who called him, so it seems rude to brush past his old student altogether, though he wants to simply shove his way into the room, demand answers, and return home. The phone call and the trip alone would have drained him of most of his energy, but he also had to fight his way past swarming reporters up and down the surrounding blocks. Midoriya still startles easily it appears, for he jumps at the noise, looking around the wide hall for trouble before his eyes finally settle on Shouta. His eyes are older now, he realizes, less curiously innocent. And rimmed red. He looks exhausted.

He wipes at his face distractedly, but whatever tears had been falling are dried. “Ai-Aizawa,” he covered it well, but Shouta still recognized the hesitance as Midoriya only just stopping himself from addressing him with a more formal honorific. The young hero clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say more on the phone, I…I didn’t know how much you knew, but he…All Might asked me to call you.”

At another time, Shouta might’ve found it funny that despite the fact that Toshinori had not appeared as “All Might” for even longer than Midoriya had officially been Deku, he couldn’t let go of the moniker when thinking of his mentor.

Instead he just considers how he managed to find himself in this situation. He wonders how much Midoriya really knew. Toshinori had always been invested in Midoriya’s schooling and training. He followed the boy’s development religiously, considering their similarities in both personality and quirk, it wasn’t surprising. The two regularly met still, as far as Shouta knew, simply to catch up and chat. But heroes had secrets. And relationships were bad ideas, even when they were secrets.

“I knew he was…ill.” He finally settles on. From the wound that had taken his quirk from him, goes unsaid. That had never been made public knowledge. But the two were thick as thieves. Surely if Toshinori’s illness was not news to Midoriya, his wound would not be either.

“Oh.” Is all he gets in reply and the tone makes something in his chest tighten. There’s confusion, but there’s something else, something deeper behind it that he knows well. Something unspoken, something secret.

He moves to open the door and get to the bottom of this once and for all, but Midoriya stops him with a hand to his chest. His hand is large and warm in a way that reminds Shouta of Toshinori, but scarred and warped in a way he had never seen from the years of abuse it endured adjusting to Midoriya’s strange quirk. The touch is just light enough to stop him without real force, but he can see from the way Midoriya’s arm tenses that if he pushed, the young man would push back.

“Detective Tsukauchi is visiting right now,” he says quietly, but firmly. “We should let them have a few more minutes alone.”

And so he waits.

The two heroes differed in many ways, perhaps all ways, save for their desire to help the people and the secrets they kept.

“Do you love me?”

They were lying in bed when Toshinori asked the question. Shouta was freshly showered and debating to himself if it was worth it to get up and do something with the damp towel still hanging over his head. Toshinori was already hooked up to a number of machines that helped keep his body from shutting down in the night. Cords and wires draped over the side of the bed just waiting to get tangled and a quiet but steady beep came from one of the machines. The first time Shouta had ever stayed over he was sure the noise would bother him, but he had been so tired he feel asleep almost instantly, and they had been doing this…thing for so long now, he hardly even noticed it most nights.

Now it felt unnaturally loud.

“That’s a surprisingly bold question coming from you,” he replied levelly. He sat up, suddenly grateful for the extra cover the towel provided as he tried to work out what was happening and how in the world he was going to respond to it.

He cared for the old hero, certainly far more than he ever expected to. They were coworkers. They were…friends. They were something else but not quite something more. At least, they had never talked about letting it become something more.

Could it be something more?

Perhaps after retiring from the hero business, Toshinori was starting to realize all he had given up in terms of a normal family by becoming the Symbol of Peace.

“What kind of answer are you looking for here?” he finally asked. Not the most tactful response, perhaps, but when had he last cared about something like? Especially around Toshinori? They had seen each other at their worst, and if Toshinori was going to ask such boldfaced questions, who was he to worry about appearances and politeness now?

“’No.’”

Once he heard it, Shouta realized the confident, firm response was the last thing he was expecting in that moment. Finally, he turned around to face Toshinori and found he was being watched with a soft, fond smile. Toshinori’s unique, sunken eyes were tired.

“’No’?”

“Loving a hero is a dangerous choice,” he said wittingly, as if speaking from experience.

“You’re retired,” Shouta replied carefully. You’re not a hero anymore, were dark words he would never say, not when he knew from experience they echoed in Toshinori’s nightmares already.

Toshinori waved a hand over himself with a short laugh. The cords moved soundlessly with him, but stilted his movements. “And that was not a decision I made lightly or even very willingly.” His sunken chest rose and fell only barely. The scarred skin of his side was dark and shadowed in the dim, evening light. “So?”

Shouta’s eyes trailed back to his face. A concerned crease was forming in his forehead.

“You’re a friend,” he said carefully. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to simply say “no.”

Toshinori’s eyes closed and he relaxed against the headboard. “’A friend’ is good.”

“What about you?” Shouta hadn’t realized he spoke aloud until Toshinori’s eyes opened to focus on him once again. He resisted the urge to squirm under the gaze. “I’m still technically on active duty, and as you said, it’s dangerous to…care about a hero.” His lips hesitated around “love.”

Toshinori reached out and touched a strand of Shouta’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. “You should finish drying off.”

Despite that, over the years their relationship had improved, and changed, and grew. Still, he knew they had secrets from each other. Secret Keeping is a hard habit to break, especially when it has been the norm for so long, far longer than not. And so, he shouldn't be surprised to learn there was something he hadn't been told about his partner.

When Naomasa leaves the room, his eyes are downcast, shoulders slumped. When he sees Shouta across the hall, he freezes, as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. Shouta had thought they were becoming hesitant friends, thanks to Toshinori’s insistence, and considering they were the two he spent the most time with and eventually that time came to overlap, but the expression Naomasa wears now is one he does not know well enough to read accurately.

At least, he hopes.

But Naomasa simply shakes his head.

Behind him, Shouta hears the first sniffles that could only mean Midoriya is crying once again, but his feet are moving him into the room before he can dwell on it, pushing past Naomasa with more force than necessary as the detective all but crumples under his hand.

Doctors are scattered across the spacious room, but none address the bed, or Shouta, as he storms in. A single nurse stands at the side, slowly, methodically turning off flashing machines. She alone seems aware of him as he approaches the bed.

Toshinori lays still, as he always does when he’s asleep, a habit trained into him from too many nights accidentally ripping IVs out of already weakened arms or setting off alarms that had doctors and friends alike rushing to his side at all hours of the night. His trademark hair was flattened against the stark white pillow, bangs brushed away from a gaunt face. He’s unsettlingly pale.

“Were you close?” The nurse asks softy.

Shouta swallows thickly around the lie in his throat. “Friends,”

But something one must never forget, particularly as a Secret Keeper themselves, is that the fallout always hurts those kept in the dark more than anyone ever plans.

When Shouta heard the shaky inhale, he tensed, ready to sit up and fetch water or an extra handkerchief. He had been drifting between awake and asleep for what felt like hours now, but he had thought Toshinori had been asleep for far longer and he usually only awoke for nightmares or when he felt ill. A large hand hesitated over his form before settling on his shoulder, long fingers twisting into the ends of his dark hair. Just as he had been mistaken about Toshinori’s consciousness, he realized Toshinori was about his as well. He rarely initiated any kind of physical contact between them, without Shouta’s explicit request, or in some desperate times, order.

“I love you,”

The whisper was barely audible, but Shouta felt the words echo throughout his entire being, prickling at his skin and unsettling his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter as Toshinori barked out a startled laugh, as if his own words surprised him, and the shocked, sour sound turned almost instantly into a rough coughing fit. As the harsh coughs finally settled, he shushed himself in the quiet of the room.

For a few moments, neither dared to move a muscle, but when Toshinori, falsely, determined he was still asleep, he grew bolder still and moved his hand from Shouta’s shoulder to the top of his head.

“You never dry your hair,” he reprimanded fondly, as his hand trailed over the damp locks. It was an argument they had often. “You’ll get sick. You need to take care of yourself, especially when I am not around.”

Toshinori sighed heavily, his hand stilling at the top of Shouta’s head once again. “I wish you would find someone better equipped to take care of you, like I told you to. So stubborn.” He coughed again, less intensely than before, though Shouta could tell from the wet crack of the sound there was blood in these coughs that hadn’t been in the last fit. “Find someone healthier at least. And younger. Someone you can love next time.”

Does it hurt more, he wonders, because, he realizes now, he was the last to know?

“He wanted me to give this to you,”

Shouta isn’t sure when Midoriya joined him in the room, but he turns to find him holding out a long, pale envelope.

He doesn’t take it from the boy, simply looks over his appearance. The bruise he had overlooked for the red eyes is likely fresher than he had originally assumed. He wonders how much of the blood on the green of his suit is his own.

“When did your rip your sleeves?” he asks. The boy hadn’t used so much of his power to damage his hero suit, or somehow even more surprisingly himself, in a long time.

Midoriya shifts his weight, still holding out the envelope. His hands are bare, and the tattered remains of his sleeves had been rolled up as much as he could manage, to keep them out of the way. If Shouta hadn’t seen the original costume he chose in school, he would have wondered if the young hero chose the full-body cover to hide the scars that covered him. He looks to the floor, avoiding his old teacher’s gaze.

“Today.”

For some reason, he expected as much, but it doesn’t stop his temper from spiking. “He wasn’t even supposed to be in town,” Shouta manages to keep himself from shouting, but that doesn’t take the bite out of his snarl as he snatches the envelope from the boy. “He was supposed to be at a doctor’s appointment.”

Midoriya says nothing as he opens the envelope and unfolds the paper inside. A small key clatters to the ground. Silently, he picks it up, noting its similarity to his own copy for Toshinori’s apartment.

When he sees the letter, he doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until Toshinori’s familiar, sharp letters blur on the page in front of him.

Shouta-

There’s no easy way to tell you the truth after all this time, and maybe it would be better to leave it as it is, so forgive a selfish, old man one more fault, but Izuku is not only my student, and someone dear to me, but my heir. He was given a quirk at fourteen, though he was born quirkless, so that he might one day surpass me and carry on the mantel of the Symbol of Peace when I was no longer able. That had not been the original plan, but when I met him I saw something of myself in him and he reminded me why I wanted to be a hero, all those years ago, as a quirkless boy myself. Unfortunately, our meeting cut my time on this earth shorter still.

You were not a part of the original plan, either, my love. Which is what you have become, though you may hate me more for telling you in this way, than being honest long ago. That is not a fault I will ask your forgiveness for, perhaps the anger will make what comes next easier for you. If you kept your promise, find love now, with someone alive. In all the years you have known me, I was on borrowed time, and though it was some of the best time, it was stolen, though from which poor soul I do not know. If you did not…please know I asked it of you in hopes of protecting you. Though that may not make it better. I’ve been told I’m rash with decisions when it comes to those I love.

The key is my own, to my apartment. I know you preferred the view from my living room than your own, even if you would not admit it, and when Eri is home from school it will be nice for you both to have your own rooms. I lied, the building is pet-friendly, and I can only hope Eri and Hizashi will keep you from adopting too many furry friends. Naomasa has all the necessary paperwork.

I’m sorry to ask one last favor of you, but please tell the boy it is not his fault. I knew when I gave him One for All, I was signing my own death certificate. I would still make the choice again, a hundred times over. To see the hero he grew to be, and will still become, has been one of the greatest gifts in my life.

You were the other.

It takes all of Shouta’s self-control not to crumple the paper further.

“What happened?” he asks, strangely breathless, finally looking away from the letter.

Tears are pooling in Midoriya’s green eyes, but he’s come a long way from the first year Shouta once knew, and they never fall, though they quiver on his eyelashes. “All for One is gone. Once and for all. We made sure of it.”

His voice hitches on “we” and when Shouta turns around, the nurse has pulled the thin, white sheet over Toshinori’s face, finally hiding his form. Once and for all.

“He knew he was dying,” Shouta says, though the explicit truth of this statement was as much a mystery to him before as it was to Midoriya. His chest feels hollow and cold. His jaw burns with the effort of staying calm. “He made that choice, you did not do this.”

The hero crumples before him, hiccupping around a poorly hid sob. Shouta kneels before him, pulling him closer. He falls forward easily, letting his old teacher support him.

“You took care of All for One. He could go without regrets. Mourn, but don’t dwell.” He hesitates around Toshinori’s old nickname. “Don’t…don’t blame yourself, my boy.”

All my love, Toshi.

Love, like secret keeping, is not for the faint of heart.

#bnha #erasermight #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #toshinori yagi #all might #character death #angst #future fic #pro hero deku #midoriya izuku #flashbacks #fwb #fic #rita writes #writing #6.20.18

[hellospunkiebrewster]

Credence - Part IX of Duty

Author’s note: We’re almost there, I’d originally planned for this to be ten parts. Each part representing a stage in Riley and Ellie’s, and to a lesser extent Drake’s, grieving process. If you’re new here, thanks for finding me, and catch up here:

Part I: Déjà Vu - Part II: Hopelessly Cold - Part III: Bitterness - Part IV: Rage - Part V: Promises - Part VI: Oath - Part VII: Dysphoria - Part VIII: Toska

Characters and places belong to Pixelberry, I’m just playing with them.

Summary: Riley and Drake discuss the previous night and figure out what’s going on between them. A couple weeks later, Riley attends a state dinner and has to deal with some difficult questions from Ellie.

Word count: 3325

Tags: @queencatherynerhys, @boneandfur, @theroyalweisme, @crayziimaginations, @mfackenthal, @lizeboredom, @gardeningourmet, @madaraism, @pbchoicesobsessed, @hopefulmoonobject

Riley works her way through the hallways towards the library unsure what awaits her there. She wonders if Drake felt like they’d made a mistake, if he was being eaten alive by this same ravenous guilt. As she makes the final turns to the library, her mouth runs dry and it takes every bit of her strength to continue on. Retreating seems like a much simpler option to her. She forces herself on, knowing it wasn’t right to do the easy thing now.

Her hand rests on the doorknob and she steels herself for what’s inside. “You have gotten yourself through everything up to this point,” Riley reassures herself, aloud. She takes a deep breath before turning the knob and stepping inside.

Drake stands far into the long room, looking out the large window at the end of the room. His back is to her and for a moment she watches him as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, rubbing his palms together anxiously.

Once she’s far enough into the library that she knows she can’t turn heel and run, she clears her throat to announce herself. He is shaken from his thoughts by the noise and turns to face her. Tension melts from his face almost instantaneously when he meets her eyes.

“...Collins.” His voice seems choked, almost as if he’s shocked she even came here this morning.

He takes a few steps back suddenly as she nears him and turns away, motioning for her to follow him. Feeling along a shelf, he hits the switch that swings a bookcase away from the wall and steps inside the passage. She’d been here once before with him, on a drunken tour of the palace when they returned after clearing her name, after her engagement to Liam. That night he all but confessed to her how he felt.

“I know how I feel about last night. What I don’t know is how you feel.” He sits on a stone step, facing away from her, looking at the floor. She steps down and sits beside him, her hand rests between them, just touching his, featherlight.

“So I have to go first?”

He looks at her, pained expression on his face. “Please.” He isn’t ready to have his heart broken all over again.

“It felt like so many things Drake. It felt like guilt and pain.” She pauses, gathering herself to continue and he’s looking down at the floor again. She picks a spot on the wall over his head and stares into it, unable to look at him. “But it also felt comforting and warm. I don’t know if there’s anything there for you, but it was very much real for me. You?”

“Are you kidding me?”

She looks at him. He’s sitting much straighter now, searching her face.

“For me, it’s always been about you Riley. From the moment we stepped into that bar, it’s been about you. I’ve always stepped aside because I knew you didn’t feel the same. Because I didn’t want to hurt anyone involved. I pushed it down. And really, who was I, next to an actual king?”

Her first name always feels foreign to her in his voice.

“You were my friend, you kept me safe. You helped clear my name.”

“I did do all of those things, but not because Liam asked me to. I did them because I wanted to, because I cared for you. I loved you.”

She doesn’t know what to say. This isn’t new to her, but it is strange to hear it directly from him, out loud. It was all real. She shakes her head and looks down at her hands. Even in the dim, windowless passage her ring finds the only photons of light and magnifies them.

“But Liam-”

He stops her. “Liam wouldn’t have wanted you to put everyone before yourself.”

--

Drake entered Liam’s study the evening before his wedding. He stood in the center of the room as Liam poured them both a drink, motioning at two large chairs as he handed Drake a glass. He picked up the crystal decanter and placed it on the table nearest Drake’s seat, before he takes a seat himself.

“My wedding is tomorrow.”

“Is it now? I hadn’t noticed,” he scoffed.

Liam’s eyes sparkled with the smallest peal of laughter. His mouth fell to a small frown quickly afterwards.

“I know how you feel about Riley.”

Drake brought the glass to his lips and looks away. He thought he had been better at hiding it, at keeping it to himself. He was kicking himself for allowing it to happen when he knew his best friend was in love with her. The guilt of that alone was destroying him. Nothing had even happened, Drake would never allow it to. As he swallowed he felt his jaw tense. A small cough escaped his throat and he answered his friend seriously.

“I’d never do anything to hurt either of you. This is something I’ll have to learn to live with because I’m genuinely happy for both of you. You and her deserve this happiness, Liam.”

“You wouldn’t, I know.”

Liam took a sip and looked at him, mulling over his next request.

“Since the attack, I’ve found it hard to shake the thought that I might not always be there for her. I could be gone in an instant, I could be gone tomorrow. And while the public loves her, there’s members of the nobility who would eat her alive.”

“Liam, what are you saying?”

“With such a huge target on my back, I don’t know if I’ll always be here for her. As much as I hate to say it, it’s a very real possibility.”

“We’ve already spoken about this and I said, ‘yes.’ You want me to protect her.”

Liam emptied his glass in one gulp, rising from his seat before turning to the window. “No, I want you to take care of her.”

--

“We made so many promises to each other Drake, and now he’s gone. I owe it to him to bring Cordonia through this, to help set Ellie up for success, to build his legacy since he had so little time to do it himself.” She fights back tears. Her betrayal pulls at her heart, pulling her away from him.

“But at what cost, Collins? You barely see Ellie, you’re a stressed out mess, you’re hardly sleeping.”

His hand slides against her cheek and she can’t help by lean into it. His hand is rough against her face, calloused from all the odd jobs he does around the palace, but still so gentle. It stills her mind and she feels her panicked breathing return to normal.

“I know it hasn’t been that long and I know you have never felt anything more than friendship with me, but last night, that had to mean something.”

“It did and I think that’s why I feel so guilty.” Her eyes begin to well up. “I miss him so much it hurts, Drake.” She dabs at her eyes with her fingertips, looking to the ceiling as she tries to blink her tears away. His other hand grips her thigh and her stomach jumps and flutters.

“I don’t know if I can ever feel the same way as you.” Her voice cracks.

“And I’m not asking you to, I’m asking you to let go and allow yourself something that makes you feel happy and loved for the first time in months, to forget Cordonia and court for just a little while every so often.” His hand slips from her cheek to sweep some loose hairs from her face and behind her ear. It follows along the lock of hair down to her neck, his fingertips brushing the side of her neck and making her shiver. They travel to her collarbone and her breath comes short. His touch is so light it’s barely there, ghosting along her body. Goosebumps pucker her skin in its wake.

She finally looks at him again, and he’s boring into her gaze with the same intensity she’d seen from Liam so many times. Her lips are dry and they pull at each other as her mouth falls slightly open. His other hand moves up the outside of her thigh and comes to rest at the small of her back, pulling her into him.

“How is it that you always make me feel like I’m enough? Like I don’t need to try harder, like i’m not failing?”

“Because you are enough, Collins. You’re more than enough, you’re compassionate, gentle, brilliant, strong-”

She cuts him short, her lips on his, stronger than the night before. Drake stiffens in shock, not moving. He fears any movement from him will scare her away. Only when her hands float to both sides of his face, slipping back to his neck, her fingers intertwined behind it, does he relax into her touch and return the kiss with the same intensity. His hand grips at the fabric of her shirt on the small of her back, afraid to let her go. A gnawing thought pulls him from the moment and he breaks the kiss.

She looks up at him and she chews lightly on her bottom lip. Her eyes are confused and he opens his mouth to speak but she prempts him.

“So what exactly is this?”

“Heh. Taking the words right out of my mouth.” She waits for his response, unwavering.

“I suppose it’s only fair since I made you go first. And I can’t say I have an answer, I know what I’ve wanted for so long.” Riley can see him fight himself from pulling back further and looking away before he continues, “But asking that of you, now, isn’t fair. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready for it. So much has happened in the last few months and I don’t know if either of us are. I guess we’ll play it by ear. No expectations.”

She drops her hands from behind his neck and they slip to his waist and behind his back. She is pulling herself into him, burying her ear in his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His warmth blankets her and she allows herself to welcome in the feeling of someone else’s arms around her.

“There’s one thing I do know. I need you. To just be here. You might feel like you’ve barely been holding it all together, but you’ve kept me together. You and Ellie. I was drowning and you pulled me from it.”

She closes her eyes, her breathing slows to match his as she listens to the thump of his heart. They’re both quiet for some time before Drake speaks again.

“Thank you.” He kisses the top of her forehead and continues to hold her.

--

“Is this really necessary Collins?” Drake protests as she adjusts his pocket square and turns her attention to his bowtie.

A shriek of laughter bubbles through the royal suite.

“You look funny.” Ellie’s eyes shine with mirth as she stands in the door to her mother’s bedroom. He shoots her a mean look and she shrieks and runs down the hall to her room, feet thudding along the way.

Drake stands in front of a full length mirror with Riley in front of him, a couple weeks after their discussion in the library. She busies herself with the knot in his bowtie, untying and retying it a few times before she gets it right.

“Ugh, I don’t think I’ve tied one of these since I was helping my friend Daniel get ready for a wedding. How do you not know how to do this? You literally spend most of your days in a palace.” She adjusts the now done tie, trying to get it to sit straight.

“I don’t generally dress up for things, no one notices you if stand by some plants near the bar.”

“That’s going to have to change.” A scoff escapes his throat in a deep rumble when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as Riley steps back and turns to survey him in it. Drake is wearing a deep navy tuxedo with black lapels. “You’re looking pretty good tonight Mr. Walker.” She winks exaggeratedly at him, laughter shining in her eyes at his discomfort.

“I don’t look like myself.” Drake shifts from side to side in his He messes with his collar, trying to loosen it. When it doesn’t budge he sighs, dejectedly.

She touches his arm and he brings his eyes to hers in the mirror. “I know it’s not your thing, but thank you so much for agreeing to come to this state dinner with me.”

Drake nods.

Riley turns to her closet, grabbing her gown and slipping into the bathroom to change. She’s wearing a simple textured crepe gown in cream with a painted peach and muted blue flower pattern to match. The skirt is simple and falls down straight, with a single long slit up the back. She slips on a pair of gold shoes and exits the bathroom.

“I just need to check on Ellie.” She crosses the room to head to Ellie’s room and Drake catches her wrist, pulling her to him in one quick motion.

“You look stunning, I almost regret giving you a hard time about asking me to come to this thing.” He presses a kiss to her lips and she relaxes into it for a moment.

“Ew, what are you doing?”

Riley jumps back as if she had been burned and brings her hand to her lips. Turning towards the door, she sees Ellie in her pajamas, her head tilted to one side and her nose crinkled.

“Uncle Drake and I have to go to a very important event tonight and it’s just about bedtime. Do you think we can talk about it tomorrow?” Ellie shrugs.

“How about a bedtime story?”

“Okay.” Ellie turns and stomps her way down the hallway to her room with Riley in tow.

--

Riley and Drake are seated at a large round table with the guests of honor an ambassador from France and one from Portugal along with others from the regent committee. She nods along as the ambassador from Portugal is speaking about a proposed trade agreement between their two countries. She’s not particularly interested in the conversation but is putting up a good face for the sake of Bertrand who is seated directly across from her in the circle of diners.

As the plates are being cleared from the last course by the staff, Riley is approached by her assistant who kneels next to her to whisper in her ear.

“Ma’am, it’s Eleanor, she’s not feeling well and the night nanny says she won’t-”

Riley cuts her short by rising from the table and interrupting the conversation around it.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint, but it seems my daughter is not feeling well at the moment and needs me. I’m going to have to call it an early night, but please, dance and enjoy the night. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh what a pity,” the ambassador from France looks at her disappointed. “But family comes first.”

“Surely Her Majesty could open the evening’s dancing before leaving? Or a toast?” Bertrand pipes up from his seat. Riley knows a dance is only a few minutes, but knowing nobility, she could get held up for a half hour or longer just waiting for people to be ready, waiting for the champagne to be poured, for them to ask her for a dance, and she didn’t really want to have to explain the situation to the entire room. She sees her window as now, before anyone notices she’s slipped out.

“I’m very sorry Duke Ramsford, but I really should go.”

Bertrand sighs heavily, disappointed by her response. She turns to leave but doesn’t hear another committee member mutter to him, “I guess being a mother is more important than being Queen mother.”

She does however hear Drake over the conversation at the table. “You’re damn right it is,” Drake pushes himself back from the table, knocking a couple of wine glasses over in the violent motion. “You’re all the same, not wanting to take any actual responsibility for this country and resting it all on her because it’s easier and more interesting to watch her juggle it all.”

The ambassadors are clearly uncomfortable and reach for their drinks, shooting each other sideways glances. Riley looks at Drake, frozen and embarrassed. She knows she needs to do something to diffuse the tension. Her gaze wanders the table and her eyes meet Savannah’s, sympathetic, an apology in them.

“Since we’re on the topic of mothers, what would you all think of Duke Ramsford and his beautiful wife here opening the night’s festivities? It won’t be long until they have another sweet little one of their own, surely it would be a memorable way to start the evening.”

Savannah nods, smiling, and Bertrand nods approvingly at Riley as she excuses herself once again. She turns to leave through a side entrance, feeling Drake’s presence on her heels.

“I asked you to come for moral support, not to serve as back up in a fist fight,” she smirks and shakes her head at him. Her steps quicken and she travels the hallways of the palace back the residence.

When they arrive, the night nanny tells them Eleanor is in her room. Drake makes his way to the couch, already removing his tie and undoing the top few studs on his shirt. Riley hurries down the hallway and enters Ellie’s room where she lays in bed, looking upset and conflicted.

“Oh sweetie, what’s wrong?” Riley asks as she crosses the room and sits on the edge of her daughter’s bed.

“You’re forgetting daddy. I don’t want to forget him, too.”

Riley takes in a deep breath before saying anything to her daughter. She knew she was in for an interesting discussion soon when Ellie saw Drake and her in the bedroom earlier while getting ready.

“I could never forget daddy Ellie,” she pauses unsure how to continue.

“But why were you with Uncle Drake tonight?” Ellie’s face is turned up to hers and Riley lays on her side next to her daughter in bed, propping her head on her hand and bringing her other hand to stroke her daughter’s hair.

“Mommy loved daddy so much, and still does. Daddy was my best friend Ellie,” she watches Ellie’s face as the worry begins to melt away but the concern remains.

She continues, “Uncle Drake and daddy were also best friends, It’s very hard to be happy without a best friend.” She knew she was talking in circles, unsure where she was going with this.

“Just because you find a new best friend doesn’t mean you forget about the old one.”

“So you won’t forget about daddy?”

“Never sweetie, I could never forget him because he gave me you.” Ellie’s conflict melts away from her face but she can see the gears still turning in her mind. Riley kisses her daughter’s cheek and continues to stroke her hair until she falls asleep. She takes a couple minutes to watch her sweet sleeping face, rising slowly to not stir her. She tiptoes from the room and shuts the door behind her. When she’s in the hallway, she realizes what Ellie was thinking about and dreads the conversation tomorrow about what she meant when she said that Liam gave her Ellie. She rubs the space between her eyebrows with her fingertips as she goes to her room to change.

Riley returns to the living room after some time to find Drake on the couch, his shirt undone and untucked and jacket thrown over the back of a chair. She joins him and he throws his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him.

“Everything alright?”

“It will be. I think.”

--

Part X: Unconditional is here.

#playchoices #play choices #the royal romance #trr #choices fanfiction #trr fanfic #drake walker #king liam #duty

[atamascolily]

another JAT fic snippet

In which there's Sexual Tension and my OC is a huge shipper AND a troll. (I love her so, so much.)

For context, Mara has just landed on Yavin IV after agreeing to help out with the academy, and my OC Tor shows her around the temple complex, pointing on what she, Luke and Corran have fixed in the old Rebel base and what still needs to be repaired. Their last stop is the most interesting.

"So, what about the hot springs?" Mara asked. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to indulge in <i>this</i> climate."

Tor grinned. "Too hot and humid for you, huh?"

"It reminds me of Myrkr," she said. "I prefer more temperate planets."

"Myrkr... that's where you met Luke, right?"

Mara frowned. How much had Luke told this woman about her? "We actually first met in deep space, although he wasn't aware of it at the time. I pulled his unconscious body out of his disabled ship and onto the <i>Wild Karrde</i>. We were based out of Myrkr at the time, and Skywalker didn't wake up until after we'd landed."

"Ah," said Tor. "It sounds like an amazing place. All those metal trees! I'd love to see it some day."

Personally, Mara hadn't considered the biology of Myrkr to be particularly exceptional in any way but one: there were creatures there that hunted or hid via the Force that difficult to ignore. The Force-dampening ysalamiri were irritating enough, but the wild vornskrs were a damn nuisance and occasionally life-threatening. She could imagine how a botanist might view things differently, though.  

"Well, perhaps I'll go with you," she said, surprising herself even as she made the offer. She barely knew this woman, it wasn't like her to volunteer to spend travel with a virtual stranger--

"Thank you," Tor said simply. She looked up at the sky, then at the chronometer on her wrist. "We can go to the hot springs now if you like."

"What about Luke and Corran?"

"Oh, they're unlikely to pull themselves away from X-wing repairs for at least another hour. We'll have the whole place to ourselves."

That hadn't been what she meant, but she let Tor lead her through the maze of stone corridors out into the open, towards the ruins of yet another temple. Unlike the Great Temple, the roof had caved in long ago, leaving the remaining walls exposed to the open--and the jungle had quickly infiltrated the gaps. Now the trunks of great trees entwined the rock walls and towered out of the rooms--except for bare patches here and there where no seed had managed to take root.

"Apparently, the Massassi civilization enjoyed a good soak; we found a whole network of pipes and aqueducts when we started poking around," Tor said. "They channeled both hot water from the volcanic springs and cooler water from the river using gravity alone. Most of it was still intact--it only took a few minor repairs to get everything up and running again. We only have one pool set up right now, but I think you'll like it."

Mara opened her mouth to politely decline--there was no way she was getting in the water now, it was far too hot, and she needed to finish unloading her gear off the Headhunter and settle into her new quarters--

Tor patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, I brought a towel for you," she said, and started towards the entrance. "Well? Aren't you coming?"

--and the moment was lost. She swallowed, wondering what the hell was wrong with her nerve. "Yes," she said, and hastened to catch up.  

***

Somehow, Mara hadn't expected the communal showers. They'd left their clothes and footwear at a bench near the complex entrance, and a naked and completely unselfconscious Tor had made a beeline for the nearest faucet so she could scrub herself under a stream of water. The fixtures themselves were shiny and modern, in stark contrast to the volcanic black rock to which they were attached; clearly, they were a replacement for whatever the Massassi had used.

Tor interrupted her ablutions long enough to notice Mara's hovering. ""You've never done this before?"

Mara nodded.

"Well, it's awkward for about thirty seconds and then you get over it," Tor said. "Everybody who didn't grow up going to public baths has the exact same reaction on their first visit. You should have seen Skywalker blush--."

"You took Skywalker to a <i>public bathhouse</i>?" Mara's mind whirled at the mental image.

Was that a smirk on Tor's face? Yes, yes, it was. "He tried to play the dispassionate Jedi, but his entire face was bright red. One of the hazards of such pale skin, I guess. And how he <i>stared</i>! That's usually impolite, but in my opinion, it was only fair, because everyone else was staring right back at him."

"Why?"

Tor pursed her lips. "Have you <i>seen</i> him? He's quite an attractive man."

"I thought you said it was impolite to stare," Mara said, trying to keep her own face from reddening in embarrassment at the direction this conversation was going.

"I didn't stare, I merely <i>observed</i>," Tor said cheerfully. "Besides, he's far too young for me."

She turned away and closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the flow of water down her face and back, so Mara was spared the need for a response. She took that as a sign to venture into the room and turn another showerhead. The water was icy cold at first, and then warm, and once it reached a comfortable temperature, she stepped under the flow of water, letting it fall over her in a steady stream.

"You don't have to shower long," Tor said, her eyes still closed, as if sensing Mara's next question. "Just enough to slough off any dirt and skin flakes that would be unwanted in the communal pool. You shower when you're finished soaking, too, so don't worry about that bit either."  

It was an odd system, but it make sense in context. Mara shrugged and washed herself as best she could. She waited for Tor to finish and pad down the hall towards the communal pool before she followed.

"Careful not to slip," Tor said. "We're going to put mats down at some point, but we haven't gotten that sophisticated with so few of us here now."

 Even with Tor's warning, Mara had to concentrate not to slide on the slick dark volcanic flagstones with wet, bare feet.  She followed Tor down the hallway, past stone walls covered with life--lichens and orchids and epiphytes, bromeliads and colorful blooms.

"It's beautiful," Mara said in surprise.

"Yes, it is," Tor agreed. "Ah, here we go."

She led Mara to a series of stone steps, descending into a large, deep pool of water, clear enough that Mara could make out every detail of the black flagstones at the bottom. Steam issued from the water's surface. Every now and then a flurry of bubbles issued from the bottom, only to ripple and vanish once they reached the surface.

"If you feel something wet and squishy in the water, don't panic," Tor said as she splashed down the steps and lowered herself into the water with a sigh. "There are colonies of sulfur-eating bacteria in the spring itself, and sometimes they get sucked through the pipes and end up in here. They're completely harmless, but they can be disconcerting if you're not expecting them."

"What do they look like?" Mara said. She hovered on the lip of the pool, uncertain of whether she should gradually ease herself in or plunge in all at once.  

"White, amorphous blobs. Nothing too dramatic. Come on in!"

Mara gave up and lowered herself into the water. As Tor had promised, the warmth was pleasant and comforting, despite the tropical heat around them.

"We don't have a cold pool set up yet, so if you get overheated, you have to go back and shower with the cold water," Tor said. "If you feel dizzy or your heart starts racing, get out of the water immediately and cool off. You can come back in when you feel better."

Mara nodded. "So you and Skywalker spent a lot of time in the bathhouses on Sawara?" she asked, as casually as she dared. "He must have gotten the idea for this hot springs business from you."

"He was quite taken with them," Tor agreed. "On Sawara, people have private 'freshers in their homes, but the baths are where they go to socialize and relax. It's the one place where everyone is welcome, no matter your rank or your station. Old age, scarring, accidents, unfortunate tattoos... there's no hiding who you are in the baths. It's come as you are or don't come at all."

It sounded... oddly liberating. "And you don't stare."

"Not usually. Like I said, Skywalker was an exception. Speaking of which, I think I hear him now."

Mara turned to see a pale blur pass from the hallway behind them and into the shower room. There was a hiss as water turned on. "Skywalker? Now?"

Tor's grin kept getting wider and wider. "He usually comes to bathe after completing his work for the day. I suppose he and Corran must have finished early."

"Corran comes to the baths, too?"

"Not usually. He's... rather modest, our Corellian friend."

Well, that was a relief. Only <i>one</i> embarrassing encounter with her new colleagues at a time.

"I hope you're going to appreciate the show," Tor said gleefully. "I certainly am."

"I thought you said it was impolite to stare--"

"I'm not staring, I'm <i>appreciating</i>--"

The water ceased. Mara heard footsteps behind her, accompanied by the unmistakable sense of Luke Skywalker's presence in the Force.

"Mara! I'm so glad you’re here!" he said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to meet you when you arrived, but I assume Tor showed you around?"

Mara turned, careful to keep her eyes on Skywalker's face rather than straying downward, and mostly succeeding. Though from Tor's palpable amusement, she wasn't hiding her discomfort as well as she wanted to. Damn her.

"Yes, she's been telling me a lot of things--like what an impression you made on the Sawarans," Mara said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, that's right," Luke said easily, sliding into the water with practiced ease and sitting back on the submerged steps, between her and Tor. He was now covered up to his chest, which helped to ease some of the awkwardness, but not as much as Mara would have preferred. "I'm several centimeters shorter than your average Sawaran, not to mention a heck of a lot paler. They couldn't take their eyes off me. I even had young children coming up to touch me to make sure I wasn't a ghost."

Tor shrugged. "Mostly, they were teasing you. It's not your fault you greatly resemble a mythic land demon, Skywalker."

They both laughed. Mara noticed the easy, unconscious rapport as a twinge of jealousy curl down her spine.

#star wars #my fanfiction #fanfic excerpt #Jedi hot springs shenanigans #Lily's Jedi Academy fix-it fic #why am i writing this novel #never mind it's awesome

[andromeda3116]

so, @thereigning-lorelai requested this, and i didn’t realize until, oh, thirty seconds ago, that i am not the only person who took it and ran with it and tbh, i don’t know if i should apologize? i feel bad, i don’t wanna step on any toes. but um. “jyn is in hardcore denial” is kinda my jam, so i got excited and wrote almost four thousand words about this. 

eta: ao3 link! (now with a poor title because i am poor at titles)

.

.

In spite of the knowing looks they got from most of the flagship and at least half of high command, Jyn and Cassian were not involved. They were soldiers, and professionals, and far too focused on missions, and at any rate, were friends, and entirely platonic. Jyn felt about Cassian the same way she felt about Bodhi, or maybe Han (except without the usual desire to smack him upside the head).

Everyone seemed to treat them as a unit, but they were partners. They worked together. Of course they spent a lot of time together, but it wasn’t like they shared a room — although her own roommates, three world-weary women who Jyn had thought were above such nonsense, seemed continually surprised by her presence in her own damn bed, every single night cycle that she was on base.

But it seemed like, with little else for much of the flagship to do at the moment, gossip was everyone’s favorite pastime, and there was only so much to say about Han Solo and the princess before things drifted back around to the “heroes of Rogue One”.

At first, when it had still been amusing, she had conscripted Bodhi into spreading fake rumors about them, but they had both quickly discovered that there was essentially nothing that the stir-crazy base wouldn’t accept about Jyn and Cassian’s relationship, including but not limited to:

They had gotten it on in the shuttle on the way to Scarif

They had gotten it on at Yavin IV before leaving for Scarif

They had gotten it on at Scarif, in the citadel

Jyn was secretly pregnant with his child (she had thought that one would taper off, but it instead morphed into “well, she clearly wasn’t before, but I bet she is now”)

They had shared a bed in the medical frigate after Scarif (okay, that one actually was true, but it had just been because the beds were limited and the nightmares were awful, and nothing had happened but sleep)

They were secretly married

Some of it, she felt, was at least reasonable, but mostly it seemed like the Rebellion had, collectively, decided to live out their favorite holodramas vicariously through Jyn and Cassian. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if it had at least been spread around some — but no, nobody shared the same stories about Han and Leia, or Luke and Leia, or Han and Luke, or Baze and Chirrut —

(Okay, fair enough, Chirrut would gleefully answer yes to literally any question asked about his and Baze’s relationship, up to and including whether or not the two of them had formally adopted Jyn. Baze never, ever either confirmed or denied Chirrut’s answers, which was as good as admitting that he found them amusing.)

Nobody ever just accepted the truth, which was simply that they were partners who had a totally platonic relationship.

Entirely platonic relationship. No feelings of attraction or sexual tension on either side.

Which was good, because their current situation would be embarrassing as hell otherwise.

This stupid little moon didn’t even have a name, but it did have an Imperial presence, which had struck everyone as odd — it was barely more than a stop-off with some refueling stations, the sort of place where people end up when they’re just barely not hitting rock bottom, not a place any sane sentient would bother going to. So why had the Empire built a factory here?

Jyn’s theory, which Cassian had agreed was plausible, was that they’d put a refinery here because nobody ever came here of their own volition, and the only inhabitants were people who had to keep their heads down. Nobody was likely to stumble across it by accident, and there were no rebel or Partisan cells to muck up the works. It had made sense, but it had also meant that whatever they were making or refining here was probably something important that the Alliance needed to know about.

As it happened, in parts of the moon that were entirely uninhabited for reasons that had become very suddenly clear, there was a chemical compound in the dust that could be used as a caustic agent, when collected and purified, and there were any number of reasons that the Empire would want a chemical that would strip hydrogen off of pure water.

The downside to this was that if any of the dust got on any part of a human’s (and, presumably, most other sentients’) exposed skin, it would… be very bad, and very gross. It also tended to eat through clothing, but — in a design choice that now made total sense — not the stone from which all of the structures on the moon had been built.

(It had struck Jyn as odd that, even on a featureless rock orbiting a dull-gray gas giant, there were no windows on anything, and everything was made from the same rust-colored stone, except the durasteel refinery and ships.)

Naturally, they had gotten caught by a dust storm.

Naturally, their outerwear had been contaminated, meaning that their underwear would, very rapidly if left alone, also become contaminated, and Jyn didn’t even want to think about that scenario. They’d been thankfully close to an old refueling station that had been abandoned, and so hadn’t spent very long in the dust, but getting rid of their outermost layers had been immediately necessary.

At first, it hadn’t bothered her — because the both of them had been so focused on get it off get it off get it off that it had not occurred to Jyn, at least, and probably Cassian as well, that they would be stuck in this little stone building until the dust storm passed, with no or very few clothes.

Ultimately, they’d managed to get to safety quickly enough, and get the contaminated clothing off quickly enough, that they were left in underwear and undershirts, very carefully not looking at each other.

At least, she told herself, it wasn’t cold, and they weren’t anything more than sensible friends and partners acting pragmatically in a situation that had taken both of them off-guard.

(He wore boxer-briefs. Jyn had not, as such, needed this information, but now that she had it, it wouldn’t leave her brain. She had also made the mistake of looking at him, and catching a glimpse of… well, nothing, exactly, except a… well, a bulge, and that also would not leave her brain.)

“So, we’re leaving this out of the mission report, right?” she said in a low voice, and he made a noise of agreement. She glanced at him — he was sitting, (bare) elbows on his (bare) knees, with his forehead resting in one hand — and then quickly back away, determinedly ignoring the heat rising up the back of her neck.

In the back of her mind, she considered what would this be like if they had been a little slower, and he’d had to take off his shirt and maybe —

She coughed, and ran a hand over her face.

Even though he probably didn’t know anything more about it than she did, she still asked, “How long do these storms last?” with some desperation, and her voice came out at an embarrassingly-high pitch. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her, and couldn’t see her cringe at herself.

“The storm came on quickly,” he replied, and she told herself that she was imagining the strain in his voice. “The atmosphere is… thick, and cycles rapidly. It shouldn’t last too long.”

That was… a comfort.

(He was wearing an athletic undershirt, not a tee like she’d sort of expected, and so part of his chest was exposed, and —)

She stifled another cough.

“Good,” she choked, and vaguely wished for the ground to swallow her whole.

He probably wasn’t having the same trouble she was. He was more professional than she was, and he’d kept his eyes respectfully down the whole time. He was probably just embarrassed at being caught by the storm in the first place.

Jyn, on the other hand, was struggling.

It didn’t help that there was nothing to do in this Force-forsaken little hut except dwell on the fact that her (totally platonic) partner was half-naked ten feet away from her. She didn’t even have a pack of cards with which to play sab-- solitaire, not sabacc, just… something alone and engrossing that she could look at and occupy her mind with.

(The only thing worse than the awkward silence would have been to be playing a game opposite him and his… well, opposite him.)

She closed her eyes, and tried to summon any of Chirrut’s lessons on meditation. They’d been intended to help her center herself and channel her energy more efficiently (whatever that meant), but her concern right now was dousing the heat that rose in her belly every time her brain offered up that stupid image of his —

(It had just… been a while. That was all this was. Just… plain old sexual frustration, and hey, Cassian was a good-looking guy, there was nothing wrong with finding his half-naked body easy on the eyes. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t.)

There were few things she could think of that would better dampen her stupid imagination than the memory of Chirrut’s guided meditation, but it wasn’t really helping.

Right, okay. 

Time to get drastic.

Jabba the Hutt. Picture the gummy eyes, and the slug-shape, and the tongue, and the rubbery texture of his flesh, and the slime, and the…

It worked, right up until she opened her eyes again and saw that Cassian had been running his hand through his hair, and now it was all mussed and messy like he’d been in bed, and —

Shit.

Dammit.

Okay.

That weird noise Jabba made when he moved, the guttural grunting — ugh, gross, just picture that happening in a bedroom, she wanted to vomit — the unwashed and vaguely-cheesy smell he gave off, that indulgent laugh like the worst slimy uncle imaginable. The casual cruelty, the greed. The way he kept attractive female slaves, forced them to dance for his amusement.

She let out a long, slow breath, and decided not to open her eyes again.

.

(Cassian could not stop seeing her legs. Even with his eyes closed and his head bowed, trying to mentally catalogue every single weapon he’d ever heard of just to spare his dignity, all he could see were long legs and the shape of her body in a skintight undershirt.

He wanted to die.)

.

It took three hours of horrid silence and even more horrid mental images, but finally, the dust storm passed, and shortly after, the locals’ droids — apparently programmed for immediate response in this situation, which made sense in retrospect — had swept the ground clean of the dust, so it was safe to walk outside again, even in sock-feet like Jyn and Cassian were.

Once back on their ship, they were able to put on spare sets of clothing — although at this point, Jyn would have made a toga out of a blanket, anything would do, just to not see this much of him anymore — and, still uncomfortably silent, get out of atmo.

The entire trip back was spent in the same awkward silence, carefully avoiding each other’s eyes and watching hyperspace pass by as though it was deeply fascinating. Luckily, they arrived back on the flagship halfway through the night cycle, and were able to return to their respective rooms without having to be seen, a) wearing different clothes than they’d left in, or b) desperately keeping a ten-foot space between them.

(Also, the showers were empty, which was good for Jyn to, ahem, work some things out.)

Cassian wrote and submitted the report, and Jyn signed off on it — no mention of the agonizing three hours spent in a stone hell-room, thank the Force — and between the report being finished and the, ah, showers, she figured that that was that.

Until the rumor mill started up again.

Someone — she wasn’t sure who, but was, on principle, going to blame Han Solo — had read between the lines of the mission report, and started asking, so, like, did they actually get caught in one of these dust storms? Or else the imagination-zeitgeist of the Rebellion had just decided that it would be great if that was the case.

And Jyn could not quite play it off like she had all the other rumors. Usually, she would roll her eyes and stalk off, but she found herself desperately denying them this time, even as every cell in her brain was screaming shut up shut up shut up!

As such, she had not… exactly… convinced anyone, even herself.

They were friends, good friends, the sort that she’d never really had before, and she wasn’t supposed to be feeling this… attraction to him. Wasn’t supposed to be imagining running her hands through his hair or his hips bucking against hers or waking up cradled in his arms or —

The snickers were almost as bad as the knowing glances, but not half as bad as the clawing discomfort that rose in her every time they were in the same room. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t obvious to anyone else, that it was just her own heightened awareness, but Chirrut disabused her of that happy notion a few days after they got back:

“If your intention is to convince everyone that you and the Captain are not together,” he said lightly, voice carefully plucked clean of amusement, “you are not succeeding.”

“We aren’t,” she snapped, and his expression didn’t change.

“Of course not,” he replied. She watched him carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop, which it did only moments later. “Yet.”

“We are friends,” she said through clenched teeth, and he smiled.

“Ah, I recall that tone of voice,” he sighed fondly. “Baze said the same words, in the same tone, many times in our youth.”

She had no adequate response to that, so she’d settled for stalking off, telling herself that she wasn’t skulking away like a dog with its tail between its legs, that she was a dignified adult who was walking away for good reasons, to do a better thing somewhere else.

Still, she could avoid him, more or less — or at least keep to only interacting with him in public — until the next mission they were sent on, which was only a week after returning from the one she was now thinking of as the hell-mission.

And they had not actually spoken to each other since the… situation.

Which, in retrospect, was a huge mistake.

None of it had been dealt with, it had only been given time to fester and linger in (at least) Jyn’s brain, and the more she thought of it — and the more she heard and remembered the rumors — the more tangled up her stomach got at the thought of being alone with him again, even as she really wanted to be alone with him again.

She was a big enough person to admit to herself that she was attracted to him. That was… not strange, even for platonic comrades in a time of war; in fact, she had it on good authority that no less than the princess herself had a crush on him, which she very definitely found amusing and which did not in any way inspire any kind of possessive or jealous feelings in her, because it didn’t.

Jyn had decided that avoidance was the solution, which she was now regretting, but committed to nonetheless. If she just... focused on the mission at hand, got through it, eventually things would just sort of... stop being this way, right? Her general philosophy with interpersonal issues was to ignore them until they went away, and this was no different.

It worked beautifully until they were all alone in hyperspace again and her thoughts… drifted.

He seemed agitated, eyes locked on the controls even though there was nothing new or unexpected there; even when he looked up, he wouldn’t look at her. He also seemed tense, shoulders slightly hunched, jaw clenched. The air between them was thick and heavy like cotton, almost unbreathable, and — Force be with her — they would be in hyperspace for eighteen standard hours.

There was no way they could do this. It had been bad enough when she had other things to do and focus on, but eighteen hours alone in hyperspace like this was going to drive her absolutely insane.

“All right, something has to give,” she snapped finally, and he half-glanced at her, as though afraid to actually look her in the face.

“Oh?” he replied, in a hoarsely-neutral tone, and didn’t elaborate. Of course, the bloody spy wasn’t going to give any ground on this. Half of what he did to get information was let other people fill in the blanks, he never offered up anything unless he had to (or, she recalled, very angry).

“Yeah,” she said, standing up and stalking away from the cockpit, to put some space between them so maybe she could breathe. It didn’t help. His presence still filled the room. “This is all… we’re being stupid, aren’t we?”

By the time she turned back to face him, he was standing, leaning against the armrest of the pilot’s chair, expression neutral. “Define stupid,” he said finally, and she growled in frustration.

“We’re partners,” she snapped. “We have to work together, we can’t be sitting here, all…” no adequate word would come to her, so she finished, a bit lamely, and with a shrug, “stupid. About this.”

Cassian blinked, opened his mouth to says something, then closed it again and ran a hand over his face. “That… did not answer my question,” he said, in a strained voice.

“You know good and damn well what I mean,” she snarled, the tension and rising embarrassment making her angry. He seemed to be biting his tongue, now looking away.

“This is about the last mission,” he said, with no question. “The dust storm.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the dust storm,” she replied, annoyed. “You know, when we had to get almost naked and sit with each other for hours. And everybody’s talking about it back on the flagship. I bet that’s why Mothma sent us on this mission,” she added, and although she hadn’t thought of it before the words had been coming out of her mouth, they suddenly made a disturbing amount of sense. It didn’t have to be them, and they didn’t have to do it alone. But, oh, for whatever reason, Command thought it was best to send Jyn and Cassian, and only Jyn and Cassian, and (like the eager idiot she was) she had not questioned it.

Finally, there was a crack in his armor — rising color in his face, eyes now directed upward.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted, after a long and uncomfortable moment.

If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure of that, herself. That she wasn’t the only one about to burn up from the inside-out with sexual frustration? That he’d been checking her out the same way she’d been checking him out? That she was being stupid and they were just platonic partners, obviously?

No — if that had been the case, if they were really both just platonic friends, he would have been genuinely confused by this conversation, not hedging his bets and holding back and refusing to show any emotion.

If he hadn’t been at least sort of thinking about it, he would have been a totally different kind of uncomfortable, squirming and trying to escape the situation, embarrassed and uneasy. It wouldn’t be the same kind of tension.

Maybe it was just her whimpering libido that was telling her that, but it made sense.

“I want the truth,” she said slowly, taking a step closer. He didn’t look at her.

“What do you want the truth to be?” he countered, still dangerously neutral, still watching the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Of course he still wouldn’t give any information.

Cassian had survived all his years in Intelligence by not giving. Jyn was gonna have to take this jump, and hope that he’d meet her halfway once he saw for sure where she was going.

It took a moment to steel up her resolve, which she spent by walking up to him with every ounce of purpose and anger she could muster. He still wouldn’t look at her, eyes fixed on the ceiling, jaw clenched, whole body vibrating with tension.

She took a deep breath, and the words she had rehearsed — something self-assured, like I want to at least give them something real to gossip about, I want to touch you, I want you to touch me — died on her lips.

Instead, what came out was a slightly-wavering, much-quieter-than-intended, “That you want me.”

Abruptly, his eyes were locked on hers, neutral expression becoming calculating, guarded. Searching for a lie, maybe, or any indication that she was joking.

He didn’t respond, or at least not in the amount of time that she was willing to wait (which was… not much).

Closing her eyes (so she didn’t have to see anything in his face she might not want to), she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

It was… not exactly the romantic moment she had hoped for. He was still frozen, all that tension stretched thin between them, rigid and unmoving, and -- shit. Shit.

Fuck.

She started to pull back, but then the tension snapped and he responded, moving in, hand catching the back of her neck and pulling her back to him; she was taken a little off-guard, and had to catch herself against his chest, whole body pressed against his as her arms snaked around his neck and his other arm wrapped around her waist.

Cassian stumbled against the pilot’s seat, but didn’t break the kiss until she pushed him down into it and, in the same motion, straddled his hips. He looked… a little dazed, pupils dilated, face flushed. She doubted she looked any better (or, since he actually looked pretty fucking good like this, from this angle, any worse).

“Like I said,” she breathed, with more composure than she felt, “we’re being stupid.”

His lips curved into a smile, and he murmured, “I guess so,” before pulling her back into another searing kiss.

.

.

(coda—

“So,” Han said, drawing out the syllable suggestively, “what I’m hearing is, the trick is to go to an awful moon with murderous dust-storms.”

“I think Leia would just let you die,” Jyn replied blandly, without looking up from the datapad where she was trying to write a coherent report that left out all the details nobody else actually needed to know, and Han appeared to think about it for a moment, then scowled.

“Who said anything about Leia?” he grumbled. “I could’ve been talking about… Amilyn. Or, hell, Luke. Or —”

Jyn sorted and walked away, leaving him still spluttering and coming up with increasingly-ridiculous names.)

#rebelcaptain #fanfiction; mine #i feel really bad now! #i had already written it and when i started to post it i looked at that post and went 'oh' #also there is a very big part of me that's just like 'haha yeah hers is gonna be way better than mine like. not even close.' #but i had fun writing it? #so....... i hope you like it?

[queenieschronicles]

Vide Cor Meum

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: What would a man do to protect his family, wealth, and business? Marry his daughter off to Birmingham’s most ambitious: Thomas Shelby.

Word Count: 2760

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

Part II Part III Part IV

You threw a smile over your shoulder as the two Carrol brothers said their goodbyes and promised to be back tomorrow. You waved and closed the door behind you. Before turning to face your father, you adjusted your dress and put on a straight face.

You took a seat across from him. You pressed the warm cup of tea to your lips. Your father gave you a peculiar look; you smiled at him with your eyes. He folded his newspaper and set it on a silver tray standing by.

“Have fun in the gardens?” He inquired.

You nodded, playing with the hem of the white tablecloth. You were always entertaining neighbors. Where young, single girls lounged about, young, single boys came to seek fun.

“Emma and Jane truly are wonderful company.” You took a bite of a biscuit.

He sat back in his chair,” Yes. Well, we have business to discuss.”

Your brows furrowed. Business was usually left up to him and his board. You couldn’t even pretend to know what this was about.

You remained quiet and let him collect himself. You wondered if someone had died or maybe one of your sisters had had another child you were to be the godmother to.

“You’re going to marry Thomas Shelby.” He stated firmly.

Your head tilted forward. You gave your father a look of disbelief. You expected him to start laughing and reveal his big joke. Instead, he held his good posture and the look of solemnity.

“The hell I am!” You protested.

“You are of age, (Y/N). I’m not waiting for either of the Carrol boys to ask for your hand. Besides, you have a duty to this family.” He took a drink of his tea.

“Is that what you told Cornelia and Victoria when they were getting married?” You glowered.

The dynamic between you changed. It was no longer diplomatic. You watched as your father set the cup down and shift to face you straight on. You knew what was coming next. He wasn’t going to ask you nicely. He wasn’t giving you an option.

Anyway, no one defied Thomas Shelby and lived. Your father wouldn’t be the first.

“Your sisters married in a timely fashion. You’re taking your time. Well, the clock is ticking and it has finally chimed. Thomas will be coming for the party tonight. In fact, it’s been set up as your engagement party. You’ll be married tomorrow.”

You gave an obedient nod in reply. Removing yourself from the table, you exited into the hall. You climbed the stairs feeling as if you were weighted down by lead. You entered your bedroom and sank against the door when it shut.

You always imagined growing old in this house. You never had plans to marry. You would always have companions. There was no need for a husband. The quiet country life of Highbury was all you needed.

Then Thomas Shelby happened. You hadn’t even remembered the last time you’d seen him. Perhaps it was London or it was Cheltenham races. You hadn’t a clue. You only knew that your father and Thomas Shelby had gotten along infamously. You had danced with him. You had been hit on by his brother John and complimented graciously by Arthur. You remembered his stoic, stern features and his ability to hide what he felt. You remembered your sisters being head over heels. He was also the only man who had ever made you feel like you didn’t hold all the cards.

You stripped yourself on your way to the bed and sprawled out. You thought yourself into a deep sleep to which you wouldn’t wake until the maid came to fetch you for dinner. You promised to be down shortly.

You slipped out onto your balcony in your robe to check the weather for the evening. You slid your hands along the smooth stone until you were flattened against it. You smiled as the fresh air filled your lungs.  Nothing could compare to this bliss.

“You’re going to catch a cold wearing that.” His voice was smooth and smoky.

Your heart leapt wildly. Your eyes widened. You caught him looking over from the balcony over. He had one hand in his pinstripe pants and the other held a cigarette firmly. You hadn’t expected him to be here already.

You pulled your robes tighter around you feeling terribly naked.

His striking blue eyes took in your bare legs and followed the curves of your body to your face. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

You hadn’t remembered him looking so handsome.

“You see, the cold already took your voice.”

You scowled. “I can speak just fine thank you.”

A flicker of amusement lit his eyes. He drew a short inhale of his cigarette before ashing it over the side of the balcony.

“As for your concern of my health, I’ll be just fine. I’ve been out here in far less and survived. And if it’s the exposure you’re worried about, you’ll see far more of me when we’re married.” You retorted.

A self-satisfied smirk highlighted his strong cheekbones. “I’m looking forward to it.”

A knock on your door caused you to jump. You closed the balcony doors behind you as you went to answer. It was your mother to fetch you for dinner. She brought you a pale pink dress for dinner and the party. It had an overlay of lace and fringed at the bottom.

She left you to get ready. You freshened up and applied lipstick to your lips. You approved of the reflection in the mirror and left for dinner. All the eyes on you made you a tad uncomfortable, but you held your head high and strode to the empty chair next to your sister.

Thomas regaled a triumph in France and a time before the war. You listened vexed as your sister praised him for his courage. You busied yourself with your food.

“How do you like your room, Thomas?” Your father asked taking a drink of his scotch.

“It’s charming. It has a stunning view.” Thomas watched you over the brim of his glass.

You choked, your spoon clanking against the bowl. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You gave an apologetic smile and took a drink of water.

You stared at him. He smiled back at you. Your family carried on talking about the marriage and the plans for the wedding. You and Thomas drowned them out. A silent conversation ensuing between you. He was so sure of himself. You were no threat and that bothered you. You promised to be a challenge. He wasn’t so easily deterred.

“Where are you thinking of holding the wedding?” Your mother cut in.

“There is a church near the house I bought us that I thought might be nice. I was going to wait to share the news, but I was hoping we could have the reception at the house after the ceremony.” Thomas smiled pleasantly.

You watched him with scrutiny. He was self-assured and charming. You could see why people were entranced. He had sharp cheekbones and striking eyes that stood out from his dark tresses. He was polished and mannered. He didn’t look like a boy from the ash and soot streets of Birmingham.

You slid into self-preservation as the wedding conversation continued. You wanted nothing to do with it. You were relieved when Weston came in to announce the guests were arriving. Your family began to stir from their seats. You were at the door when your father stopped you.

“(Y/N), Thomas will escort you.” He reprimanded subtly.

You waited until Thomas offered you his arm. You took it, gently letting your fingers curl around his arm. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear,” You look beautiful tonight.”

“I didn’t earlier?” You pressed.

An urbane chuckle sounded from him. You glanced at him catching the beautiful smile he wore. You refused to warm up to him. It wasn’t going to happen. You would allow yourself to think he was handsome.

“Beautiful is only one way to describe how you looked earlier. Other words come to mind though: seductive, wicked, appetizing…” He whispered.

Your lips upturned deviously.

You took your time introducing Thomas. People were surprised and congratulatory. Many wasted no time in expressing their shock that Miss (Y/L/N), would ever get married.

“You’re behaving better than I expected.” He handed you a glass of champagne.

“I was told to move to Hollywood. They said I’d make a brilliant actress.” You took a sip.

A minor twitch in his jaw betrayed the amusement he felt. That and his expressive eyes which were softer than you were used to. He knew he would have his hands full with you. This marriage wasn’t going to be what he expected.

Thomas noticed someone approached from the corner of his eye. It was a burly man with blond hair. He had broad shoulders and soft brown eyes. Thomas noticed your smile become soft and wide. He narrowed his eyes on the stranger.

“Elliot Carrol, I didn’t think you were going to be here tonight.” You took the hand he offered you.

Elliot pressed a kiss to the back.” Miss a (Y/L/N) party? Leland and I could never do that. Besides, we heard the news.” His brow quirked in curiosity.

Thomas pressed a hand to the palm of your back. You released Elliot’s hand and pressed yours to Thomas’s chest.

“This is Thomas Shelby, my fiance.” You swallowed the word. “Tommy,” you crooned,” this is Elliot Carrol.”

Thomas looked down at you and then to Elliot. He shook his hand,” It’s a pleasure, Elliot.”

Elliot nodded,” It truly is. How long have you known our (Y/N/N)?”

Thomas smiled, his hand wrapped around your hip, pulling you into him. “I’ve known her for years. I met my (Y/N/N) when we were teenagers, then again in our twenties, and most recently in London. We’ve a long history. I’ve always known she was going to be mine.”

Elliot’s fists tightened. The two men sized each other up. The tension rose instantly. This wouldn’t be your mess if you weren’t the one getting married.

You laughed to diffuse tension,” Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. I’ve always been such a handful.” You leaned into Thomas and squeezed his shoulder. His hand tightened around your waist possessively.

Elliot smiled at you. You watched him with tender fondness.

“You are a delight, (Y/N).” He watched the band start up over his shoulder. He offered his hand again,” As old friends, may I have this dance?”

You felt Thomas tense beside you. You watched Elliot feeling those old feelings you always had. The Carrol brothers had been your neighbors since you were roughly seventeen. They had been nothing but kind and fun. You spent many days here and there listening to them tell tales and talk of life.

Momentarily, you forgot you were to be married tomorrow.

You took his hand and he whisked you right out of Tommy’s grip. His hands replaced Tommy’s, but they were familiar and warm.

“Just one dance.” You decided mostly for yourself.

Thomas’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowing on the bumbling oaf and you –his fiancée – dancing with said oaf at your engagement party. Thomas didn’t share. He wasn’t going to share you with any man. He downed the rest of his champagne and watched you carefully.

You laughed, leaning closer to Elliot. He made it easy to be comfortable. He made it easy to have fun. You smiled over his shoulder until you saw Thomas. Everything blurred except for him. He stood crystal clear in a three-piece looking like the grim reaper.

You were inexplicably drawn back to him. Your grip on Elliot’s shoulders weakened. You tried to offer Thomas a smile, but he just watched you. You rested your head on Elliot’s shoulder to hide from him.

The music slowed. You pulled yourself back from Elliot. You felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Tommy might have been partially right about your history. You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying him. Or maybe you couldn’t stand the thought of marrying your equal. Elliot went to grab your hand again when Thomas reclaimed it.

“Excuse me, Elliot. I’m going to steal my girl for a dance.” He pulled you into him.

You went willingly. Your arms automatically reaching his shoulders. You stepped into him with ease. His hand flexed possessively on your waist. You leaned your head on his shoulder and focused your eyes on his white dress shirt.

“What is Elliot to you?” He studied the crown moldings of the room and the baroque wallpaper.

Your grip on his hand weakened. He tightened his, reminding you not to let go.

“He’s a neighbor.” You answered softly.

“Is that all?” He pushed.

“That’s all.”

His hand hooked around your waist, his finger splaying. You closed a nonexistent space between the two of you. Your hand moved farther up toward his neck.

“I won’t share you.” He didn’t skip a beat.

“You won’t have to.” You murmured quietly.

The two of you danced in a tranquil silence. You pondered why you disliked Thomas so badly. He killed people. He was a criminal. One of the first times you met him he had dirt on his nose. You tried so hard to remember why you didn’t want anything to do with him.

“You can’t see Elliot anymore. Or any other man pining after you.” The music died.

You stepped back to look up at him. His eyes were dark. There wasn’t a hint of amusement on his face or a glitter of admiration. His jaw was taught. His lips were pursed. His blue eyes were calculating.

As if dancing could make you forget who you were, you narrowed your eyes.” I’m not just business Thomas. I’m a person. You’re not going to tell me what to do and who I can and can’t see.”

For show, you entertained the room with a curtsy and you walked away. You wanted no part in this. You had been perfectly fine being an old spinster. You were happy to marry off all your nieces and nephews. You weren’t going to have a man tell you what to do.

Thomas caught your arm in the vacant hall. The force jerked you around until you were looking at him.

“You don’t get to walk away from this.”

You tore your arm away,” Watch me.” You turned and marched up the stairs.

He was hot on your heels.

“You’ve been given to me.” His tone hushed.

“I’m a fucking human, Thomas, not a damn mantel piece.” You shot back.

“Would you fucking listen? This marriage wasn’t won in a poker game.”

“Oh no? Was it forged under some blackmail? Maybe some laundering or threats.”

You turned a hard right when you reached the top. You could feel him closing in. He grabbed your hand this time and yanked you to the side. Your back hit the wall. A dull pain reached into your shoulders.

Thomas pressed your waist back and supported himself with one hand on the wall. “You think I would do that?”

“What else then if not?”

“I’m making a good business. I may not have the cleanest hands, (Y/N), but I didn’t force your father’s hands. I didn’t threaten him.”

You held his gaze waiting for some crack in his lies. All you saw was a solemn honesty.

“We’re getting married tomorrow whether you like it or not.” He stepped away from you.

“This is business, Thomas. Just like John and Esme. So, why? Why marry me?”

Thomas looked at you,” Some questions are better left unanswered.”

He began to walk away. You stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest.

“Don’t you walk away from me! Tell me!”

He lifted your hand,” Go to bed, (Y/N). It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

You sank back, retracting your hand. You glared at him and stomped to your bedroom. You immediately felt like a child throwing a tantrum. He was so composed and put together. You burned with embarrassment.

You stripped down and put your pajamas on. You sat at your vanity and stared at yourself. It finally hit you that you were going to leave all of this. Tomorrow you would be in a new house with no one but your husband. That, in itself, was the strangest idea.

You brushed through your hair and crawled into bed. You squeezed your eyes shut hoping tomorrow wouldn’t come.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby x reader #tommy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #queeniewrites

[lubdubsworld]

Amor Vincit Omnia ( Yoongi/OC)

Chapter 7.

“Wow. Are you sure it was an accident?” Namjoon teased, watching Yoongi as he sat up on the hospital bed, an IV line stuck to his forearm and a huge bandage on his shoulder. I felt my lips wobble and swallowed the urge to just roll into a ball and start bawling like a baby. My hands still trembled from the aftershock and I thought Namjoon was especially cruel to joke about something like this.

“I didn’t mean to…” I choked out. Next to me, Hye Mi looked so furious that I was sure if it weren’t for the other guys in the room, she would’ve shot me in the head. Twice.

“For the last time, can we please move on from this?” Yoongi snapped, eyes still glaring holes into my head. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, so I kept my gaze fixed on the foot of his bed.

“Is it out in the news?” Seokjin asked curiously and Hye Mi shook her head.

“No, we’ve managed to keep the media quiet for now. But EXO is going to be sniffing to see how bad you’re hurt. How long did that quack of a doctor say you have to rest?” Hye Mi asked impatiently.

“Five Weeks. Anyway, make sure no one knows I need five weeks of rest. We can’t let them know I’m incapacitated. As it is, I’m pretty sure I shot down a bunch of their guys last night. Kris is probably planning a retaliation right now. If he knows I’m not going to be around, he’s going to come after us .” Yoongi said, grimacing.

“So what do you think we should do?” Hoseok straightened from the chair and stretched.

“I’ll work from my penthouse. Have all my files and assignments mailed to my home. Also, send all the staff away. I don’t want to risk any information leak. “Yoongi said firmly. Hye Mi glanced at the others in confusion.

“Wait, without the staff, how exactly are you going to-?”

“Ji soo’ll take care of the house.” He snapped. Then he turned and glared at me.

“You cook, right? Think you can handle feeding your husband for a few weeks without poisoning me or something?” He raised an eyebrow. I opened my mouth to protest, but quickly resisted the urge. I was in enemy territory. Best not make him angrier than he already was.

“Okay.” I said softly.

“Are you serious? You want to stay cooped up for five weeks with…. this?” Hye Mi spluttered indignantly, pointing at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“You’re welcome to take care of him, if you like him so much…” I muttered angrily and she looked at me like I was insane.

“You’re literally the most shameless woman on the planet.” She shook her head as though amazed by it.  

“Enough.” Yoongi said angrily and I jumped a bit. “Hye Mi, if you’re going to talk to my wife like that again, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Whatever goes on between me and her is private. It does not give you…or anyone else, “He glared around the room, “ the right to disrespect her. Talk to her like you would talk to me. Or I’ll not think twice before pumping a few rounds into your skulls.” He snapped.

Hye Mi looked so hurt that I felt a little bad for her. She was after all very obviously in love with my husband. Even if the guy was completely oblivious to her feelings.

“Good. Now, everyone clear out. I want to talk to Ji Soo alone.”

I watched them all leave , sitting quietly in the chair near his bed, my hands clasped tight in my lap. When the door slammed shut behind Hye Mi, I chanced a glance at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay..” I said nervously.

He scoffed.

“Why ?? were you afraid I’d die without giving you a divorce?” He snapped.

I flinched .

“If you died I wouldn’t need a divorce….” The words were out before I could swallow them.

He looked like he wanted to kill me.

“Is this your way of apologizing for shooting me?” He said, very quietly, voice shaking with anger. I sighed in defeat.

“Yoongi ssi…”

“Call me Yoongi…” He snapped.

I swallowed. Why was it so hard to carry on a conversation with this man without having my head bitten off? I’d never met anyone with such an endless supply of rage.

“Yoongi…I … I don’t think I should stay here..” I began nervously . He gave me a look of disbelief.

“Are you serious, right now? Didn’t the experience of being shot at, teach you anything?” He growled.

I stared at him.

“They were shooting you…not me.” I protested.

“Yes. Because I’m the bigger prize. But if it was just you there, you would have gotten killed. Why did you think I came looking for you that night? Kris was already on his way to take you out when one of my sources told me you were the target. I don’t even know why I came for you, considering the amount of gratitude you’ve shown me.” He stared pointedly at his bandaged shoulder.

I stared at him in genuine distress. The phrases he kept throwing at me, about violence and threats and taking people out…it terrified me.

“I’m not…I'm not saying I don't appreciate what you did for me. I just...I’m very scared of this life you lead. I can’t…I can’t be a part of it.. ” I begged desperately.

“I remember begging you to not marry me. Did you listen? You made your bed, princess. “ He shrugged , unconcerned. Of course he didn't care that i was terrified. Of course he didn't care that i was helpless, powerless, at his mercy. all he cared about was keeping himself trouble free. And right now, if I got killed it would be trouble. So he'd force me to stay with him no matter how disgustingly he treated me.

I stared at him.

"You're just like my father." I said defeated.

The effect was rather unexpected.

"What the fuck did you just say?" He whispered glaring at me so much , I was sure he was going to kill me.

"Nothing..." i said quickly, looking down at my hands while my heart pounded inside my ribs.

He didn't say anything and finally after a few minutes of silence he sighed long and drawn out.

"What do you want, princess?" He sounded lost and a little weary . I finally looked up at him and for a moment the weight of his entire twenty six years seemed heavy on his houlders. The weight of the empire he ruled over, the company that he controlled and all the lives he had complete power over. It seemed to overwhelm him as he stared at me . He looked a little tired, a little pained and very much like he wanted to catch a few winks of sleep. Like the responsibilities he carried were just getting to be too much for him.

And for some reason I did not want to be another thing weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Biting my lips I shrugged.

"I'll stay here. I'll ...be your wife. Just..." Just what? I was dying to be independent, to have something of my own.." I don't know what else to say." I said finally lost.

He gave me a look and then punched the pillow with his good hand.

"Okay.... Stop looking like that, damn you!!. I'm nothing like your father. " He said impatiently.

"I'm sorry I said that." i shrugged and he looked even more annoyed.

"Fuck you make me so angry, sometimes... Fine...Listen up....I'll set up a school for you. A pottery and needlework school. You can hire some teachers and start classes. Isn't that what you were about to do after leaving me?" He said finally.

I looked up at him in shock and disbelief.

"Really? " I said stunned. " You'd do that for me?" i was pretty sure gratitude practically radiated off my face. No one had ever given me anything I'd ever asked for. Let alone notice my little hobbies and offer me a chance to do what I really loved.

He looked a bit surprised by my reaction.

"not right now. " He snapped quickly and I recoiled. "Once I get better , you can do whatever you want. I'm not some sort of a monster and this isn't some sort of a prison. there's no reason we shouldn't have a civilized marriage. As long as you stay away from me and from guns, I won't control your life." He said , looking away from me.

I nodded. Five weeks would be a breeze compared to a lifetime of independence.

I loved children. While I knew I wouldn't have a chance to have one of my own, I would enjoy teaching little ones the things I knew about Pottery.

"Stop smiling like that..You're freaking me out." He said suddenly and i flushed.

"Sorry..i..I'm sorry."

"What have I told you about apologizing for everything? I wish you'd grow a bit of a backbone , Ji soo. I'm not one of those sadist guys who enjoy watching a girl going all docile and fragile in front of them. So at least try to look a little like a lady and less like a slave." He rolled his eyes.

then treat me like a lady, you horrible man.

I sighed.

Just five weeks, I told myself quietly.

Coming back to the penthouse, that I'd been so happy to leave felt a bit too anticlimactic. I quietly went to my closet and rearranged my clothes and realized that the bed was still unmade and there were no helpers around either. Yoongi must have already sent them all home. I put the empty suitcase back in the storage cupboard and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and flinched. i looked worse than I felt, if that was even possible.

"Ji Soo!!! Hurry up!!" I heard Yoongi call out from the living space and I sighed. All of his friends, including Hye Mi were there, lounging about and drinking and laughing and of course he'd call me to do something for him. My ribs hurt as I slipped out of the dirty white t-shirt and slipped on a pale pink blouse instead. I ran a brush through my hair, quickly washed my face and applied a little compact.

it would have taken about ten minutes.

Yoongi called me thrice during that time.

When i finally came out he was standing near the sofa looking furious.

"Didn't you hear me yelling myself hoarse?" He said softly, glaring at me. i looked around at his friends in embarrassment, unable to believe he was talking to me like this in front of them.

"I'm..." i almost said sorry before remembering his tirade about me apologizing to too much. " here now. Tell me what do you want." I said softly. He looked a little less intimidating because of the huge sling on his right arm.

"I'd like to lie down now and the gang's leaving. Namjoon will be bringing back all my work stuff in a couple of hours, wake me up when he arrives, alright?" He said, moving to the bedroom without a word to his friends who all gave me mixed looks ranging from irritation to genuine sympathy.

"You should get some rest too, Ji Soo, you look exhausted." Namjoon said and Jung Kook nodded. I hesitated. It was a good idea really, because I really was tired and the injury to my rib was beginning to throb again. I felt a little worried, because it had been a little more than a week since I'd got hit. Should they really be hurting this long, I wondered?

"Thank you . i might." i said.

Hye Mi waited till all of them had left before turning on me.

"don't try to seduce him. Or I'll really kill you!" She hissed out venomously and I blinked in genuine surprise.

Seduction and me??

The very idea was beyond laughable.

Once the door shut behind her I enjoyed the momentary silence as i glanced at the clock on the wall. I still had an hour or so before I'd have to start dinner. Maybe i could lie down on the couch and ....

"Ji Soo!!!"

Of course.

I bit my lips in frustration and made my way to the bedroom.

I froze in place when I saw that my husband was standing near the bedn, shirtless.

To be perfectly clear, I wouldn't have stared so much if it weren't for how... pale he was. His complexion was almost unnaturally flawless, not a freckle or imperfection in sight and he had abs that people could wash their clothes on.

"Could you stop ogling and come help me?" He said impatiently and I reddened, before hurrying to his side.

"What's wrong...?" I asked and then jumped when i saw the bright patch of red flaring on the underside of his sling.

"I must've torn a stitch or something. it's bleeding now.. no matter ... you'll just have to clean it up a bit and change the dressing and... where are you going?" He snapped as i slowly backed away, almost involuntarily.

His voice brought me back from my own personal hell, which was an acute fear of anything bloody. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I nodded. I really didn't want him to start yelling at me again.

He pointed out the first aid box and i ended up kneeling on the bed next to him while he lay down, applying gentle pressure on the wound. The bleeding stopped after about ten minutes, after which I cleaned the wound up, applied all the anti-bacterial stuff and re-bandaged the dressing. He stayed perfectly still, legs stretched out and eyes shut . I almost thought he was sleeping.

"The next time i get shot, you could probably stitch me up yourself. You're good at stitching stuff, right?" He said casually, when I made to get off the bed and I visibly shuddered. I really didn't want to associate my needle work with stitching up torn skin and bloody bullet wounds.

Nodding mutely, i made to leave the room.

"Wait..fuck.." I turned around and found him cursing at his.. crotch?.

I dragged my eyes away from the front of his pants to stare wide eyed at him.

"I can't get this button with one hand. You're going to have to help me." He said casually. His face was completely devoid of any tension or nervousness and I realized, rather bitterly, that he really didn't think of me as a female. But then why should he? He had Hye Mi.

So, to save everyone some trouble i decided that I would not think of him as a man. Which is a little difficult when there's a shirtless man asking you to unbutton his pants. But i almost managed . Almost.

Until my trembling fingers brushed against him, letting me know just how much of a man he really was.

He was...big.

i pulled my hand away like I'd been bitten and looked up at him in genuine horror. He laughed at the look on my face.

I could feel my face on fire and I bit down on my lips to keep myself from screaming. I was standing really close to him and his head was bent over mine, his lips just a hairsbreadth away from my hair.

"You're red as a tomato. What exactly are you imagining right now????" His voice was a little low, a little rough and very very sexy. I couldn't summon my voice.

" Don't worry...Like i said... terrified bunnies don't turn me on. Now hop along." He said sounding amused.

Face burning, I hightailed it out of the room.

Min Yoongi, you horrible horrible man!!

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