#update did Not know the blue was that bright so i fixed it Sorry All. too lazy to edit the crop tho so we willhave to bear this pain 2gethe

[halcyonbot]

wx doodles ft wolfgang

#me if i dont draw wx holding that same stupid spear for 3 seconds #dst #wx78 #wx-78 #wx78 dst #wolfgang #wolfgang dst #my art #i have a soft spot for wolfgang bc every time i need help with a boss i ring up my friend who mains him like theyre my own personal hitman #update did Not know the blue was that bright so i fixed it Sorry All. too lazy to edit the crop tho so we willhave to bear this pain 2gethe #r

[gurugirl]

The House Maid Chapter 2

Summary: Daisy and Harry both work at the Archer House and don't quite see eye to eye when they first meet. Eventually, they can't resist one another and start a risky relationship that could have them both jobless. However, when jealousy and insecurities set in, things get ugly for the young lovers.

AN/Warning: I will have a * by the parts when smut is included. This warning list is comprehensive for all parts, not all contain smut or listed warnings. NSFW, smut, oral (male and female), 18+ only (as always), angst. I did a tiny bit of research on this time period (1915-1925 in the UK) and this is what resulted. If I get some historical stuff wrong it's because I'm not an expert on the genre/era (sorry).

Pairing: 1920s era House Maid Daisy x Groundskeeper Harry

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Today begins the new planting season for all in this region of the world. Daisy made her way to the Archer’s home bright and early (well, it was still dark out so technically it wasn’t bright yet). As soon as Missus Smith saw her she told Daisy to finish the curtains and meet her and the new gardening staff, along with Victor, the head groundskeeper, in two hours in the front room.

Daisy knew the curtains wouldn’t take two hours so she slowly made her way to the back of the house first, hoping Hattie would share a bite of what she was cooking, it smelled divine. Before she made it to the kitchen she was accosted by Mister Johnathan.

“Good morning, Missus Marvin! How lovely I could see your face this day. I have added a few more of the Daisy flowers to the vase you left in my room yesterday. They are quite lovely and Victor says they’re new blooms this season.” Johnathan felt like an idiot sometimes, why was he talking about blooms and flowers? He truthfully didn’t know Daisy all that well but he knew she accepted the gifts he gave her with sweet smiles, and he knew she enjoyed reading books his father lent her from their library. He was smitten with her (what he knew of her) and she was beautiful to him. Her golden hair always tidy behind her ears and pinned into a little bun at the nape of her slender neck and met with a beautiful, delicate jawline. And her pink lips! He could write sonnets about those lips and her big blue eyes. Don’t even get him started on her little freckles and the smile she allowed him to see from time to time. God if only things could be different for them he’d really try harder than just a stupid comment about the season’s blooms. What a fucking idiot he was sometimes.

With a small bow of her head and a tight little curtsy at his greeting Daisy beamed at him and watched as he began to flush, as he always does when she fixes her smile on him. She felt hot herself and knew her heart rate had picked up a bit at his presence. He was handsome and kind. “Mornin’ Mister Johnathan. I’m pleased to meet you so early. What a wonderful way to start off my day. The flower is lovely. And the candy was tasty.” Daisy found it funny how flustered he’d get in her presence. It was like anything she said held the most profound truths to him. She noticed that he had his mouth slightly agape as she spoke, as if she were a wonderful bewildering sight to him. She loved the affect she had on him. She dropped her gaze quickly to his crotch out of reflex and then quickly back to his eyes. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her slip up but he if he did he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

“Planting season begins today, which is why I’m assuming you’re here early. We have a new gardener coming in but he’s already late, so we will find out if he’s fit to stay on once he does arrive. I will be coming early today to help with updating the house plan to accommodate new staff for the season since Missus Smith is very busy today with the staff change as well. It would truly be wonderful if we could afford a true house manager for things like this but, alas, we are only allowed what we can afford.” He smiled and kicked himself again. Any time he had opportunities to speak with Daisy one on one they rarely ever spoke about anything personal or interesting. Johnathan always seemed to bring it back to work talk.

Daisy nodded along with Johnathan as he spoke and smiled. In the back of her mind she was hungry and hoping he’d head off since the conversation was boring, but she did like his company and enjoyed how kind he was to her. He also smelled so good.

“Right, the new gardener. Harry, I think it is? Well, if he cannot be here on time on his first day that really does not say good things about his work ethic. I hope all goes well with the house planning today, Mister Johnathan. I’ll let you be now. I must finish some of my leftover duties from yesterday.”

At that the two smiled and parted going on their own way. Daisy proceeded to the kitchen and was met with the warmth of the oven and the smell of dough being cooked and something smelled of apples and cinnamon perhaps?

“Madame Hattie! Good morning! I have arrived very early, as you can see. Can I bring you anything from the cold room since I’m here? Butter, or pastry dough?” Daisy smiled and rounded the work station where Hattie Blumenthal was rolling out dough for cinnamon rolls. Hattie was onto Daisy, she knew Daisy was sneaky but she couldn’t help but enjoy her company.

“Missus Marvin. What are you doing my child? I am not a fool. I know you’re hear to sneak something from the oven or the cold room again. What do you want? I can give you a roll from last night’s dinner or I can bring you a cinnamon roll later, but you must promise to not tell anyone and eat it quickly or else I’ll never hear the end of it from Lady Archer.” Hattie laughed to herself as Daisy lifted her hands in surrender. Hattie was always so dramatic about sneaking treats to Daisy.

“Madame, you wound me! Why I only came here to see you and ask if you need my assistance. But, since you’re offering so kindly, what is the harm? Hmm… Could I have a roll now and a cinnamon roll later on? I will repay you with a new book. How does that sound? I am nearly finished with The Riddle of the Sands. I can bring it to you Monday.” Daisy often traded books she finished reading for pastries and extra food. One book was usually good for a couple weeks worth of snacks and sneaky food from Hattie. Of course Daisy would only trade for books she owned and purchased herself. She didn’t want to take advantage of the Master of the House who so kindly allowed her to borrow books from his library. Even though she had no problem stealing small things here and there, a book was not a thing to be treated as such.

“Oooh! You have a deal young lady. The rolls are in that basket near the sink. Take one and be off. I’ll find you later to give you a cinnamon roll, the first batch in almost ready.” Madame Hattie continued rolling up the dough and sprinkling sugar and cinnamon and nuts over the pastry as Daisy made her way to the sink to grab the largest roll from the basket and take a bite immediately of the buttery delight.

She rushed to the door to leave the kitchen and waved at Hattie with a mouth full of roll, “Thank you!!”

Daisy was quickly able to complete the curtains and hang them in Connie’s room. There wasn’t much need to clean up Connie’s space as she’d already changed the linens the previous day. Tomorrow morning she’d arrive to add a few bouquets of flowers and that would be an easy Friday for her.

With some time to spare before she needed to head to the main room she found Johnathan’s room to begin tidying it and got to work. There was no note left for her today but she did see the extra daisies he’d added to the vase she placed next to his window. As she was tucking his sheets into the mattress she turned and there was Hattie with a finger to her mouth to indicate silence and a cinnamon roll wrapped in a napkin in her other hand outstretched to Daisy.

Daisy bounced to the door and gave Hattie a quick peck to the cheek before grabbing the sweet treat and thanked her. Hattie reminded Daisy to return the napkin before dinnertime as she stepped out of the door to finish her own duties.

The cinnamon roll was large and fluffy and warm. It dripped with butter cream and smelled divine. Even if Hattie intended for Daisy to keep this quiet, the smell of it alone would surely attract someone. Daisy tore off piece by piece plopping each into her mouth chewing slowly, then placed the last half of the wrapped cinnamon roll down on Johnathan’s writing desk, wiped her hands on her apron and licked her fingers with pleasure. She heard something that sounded like a footstep behind her and immediately turned her body, attempting to hide the cinnamon roll with her frame. She came eye to eye with a man, a stranger who she’d not yet met, standing in Johnathan’s bedroom doorway. Wide green eyes framed by dark lashes stared at her with surprise at first, then his expression slowly turned into a small smirk. The man was tall and broad, with dark hair coiffed in a style that was quite attractive for his structured face. A sharp jawline, a perfectly proportioned face with wide and prominent nose, but one that fit his face in a way that made him so effortlessly attractive.

“How do those fingers taste, kitten?” His raspy, deep voice shocking her spine, along with that damn smirk.

“Sir, do I know you? Why would you…” she began but stopped as he entered the room, closing the door behind him as he removed his stained corduroy coat. She moved her body closer to her cinnamon roll to hide the evidence, not quite sure who he was or why he was in Johnathan’s room calling her kitten. Would she get into trouble for the pastry that sat centimeters from her posterior? She didn’t know. She was completely taken aback, not only by his unexpected intrusion but by his self-assured, commanding demeanor.

“You and I have not yet had the pleasure to meet.” He stretched out his large calloused palm to her in an effort to either take hers as a gesture to kiss her knuckles or to shake her hand – she wasn’t sure which because she was struck by him and completely out of sorts by his behavior so she kept her hands next to her sides, gripping the desk hard in an effort to ground herself as she shook her head.

“Excuse me sir, but I’m very confused as to who you are and why you are here. Will you so kindly enlighten me? Please?” She kept eye contact and pleaded to him as she was more curious than upset by his presence. She needed him to explain his sudden appearance so she could reconcile the turmoil happening in her being.

“You ask so nicely so I’ll enlighten you. I’m Harry Styles. The new gardener for the season. Today is my first day and I’ve been told to change into these… ill fitting overalls that Mister Victor just handed me. I’m not a fan honestly, but…”

Daisy cut him off right there, breathing in with relief knowing he wasn’t there to bust her for eating the forbidden cinnamon roll, “Okay, okay. I see. Harry, the new gardener who is very late on his first day. Well, Harry, it w…” her sentence was cut short as Harry moved in close to her and absconded the wrapped half cinnamon roll that sat right behind her bum. He lifted up the cloth that hid the illicit sweet bun and smiled widely at her, displaying a boyish dimple that had her tummy flip and body freeze.

Still standing a bit too close to her he spoke slowly and quietly, “Now what is this, kitten? I knew you were doing something naughty in here when I saw the way you were licking your digits. I thought I’d walked in on something far more forbidden than…” he gestured with his free hand toward the cinnamon roll before continuing, “… eating a stolen pastry. You are a naughty girl. Is this even allowed in this house?”

She stared at his soft pink lips as he spoke not exactly sure of everything he’d just said but certain he was trying to get a rise from her. She couldn’t compose herself completely in his presence but she knew she had to defend herself and not give away her and Hattie’s secret deal just in case. Daisy sat her bum on the desk behind her now that the cinnamon roll was in Harry’s large hands and looked up at him with what she felt was gusto and confidence.

“I was just having breakfast before our meeting. There is nothing wrong with eating something when one is hungry. Why are you in Mister Johnathan’s room again?”

Harry brought the pastry up to his nose and unwrapped the decadent sweet before taking a large bite out of it as he kept eye contact. He chewed slowly, his jaw working hard on each compression as he let out a small, low moan. He swallowed and his adams apple bobbed while he licked his lips, never losing eye contact with her. What a prick. He was really quite confident in himself. What an ass. Coming in to work late and daring to steal hercinnamon roll? The nerve!

Daisy crossed hers arms over her chest waiting for him to respond as he finished the last half of the cinnamon roll and smiled sweetly while doing so. She raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes at him with annoyance. In all honesty, Daisy was fuming. That cinnamon roll was her prize, a payment for giving Hattie a book (that she now had to make sure was completed by Monday or else she’d always wonder how it would end) and was now half sat in another’s tummy. In Harry’s tummy to be precise, while he leaned up against the wall and crossed his ankles and his arms as he stared her down.

“Look, kitten… no offense. I was just hungry and something smelled so good in this room that I found my way here. Then I saw you slobbering all over your little fingers and I couldn’t help the urge to stop and learn what was happening in here. But I’m also here because I was directed to change into these overalls,” he said as he lifted the thin woolen trousers.

Daisy scoffed at his cockiness and turned away to finish tidying up the room, “Okay, understood. Let me finish Mister Johnathan’s room and you can change.” She looked at him over her shoulder to find him still leaning on the wall watching her with a smirk, rolling his lips inside of his mouth to hide the big grin he wanted to display. Daisy decided to speak up again, annoyed at how arrogant he seemed, “Ya know, if you had just shown up on time we could have avoided this whole ridiculous scene here,” she motioned between the two before turning back to finishing tucking the covers into Johnathan’s bed. She expected the conversation to end there before she walked out of the room but just as Daisy moved past Harry he spoke up once again.

“I have to say, the cinnamon roll was tasty but now that I’ve eaten the last of it I realize that I’m not yet quite satisfied like I thought I would be. Walking into the scene with you lapping at your fingers like a kitten really was very enticing, and that’s even with having had an orgasm already this morning, could use another release after what I saw just there.” Harry spoke quietly and laughed to himself while he saw Daisy’s face pink up at his words and her big blue eyes widen in shock. Harry leaned down to her and squeezed her thigh, just a little bit, he couldn’t help himself, but when she jumped from his touch and moved toward the door Harry asked, “What’s your name, before you leave?”

Daisy stopped in her tracks listening to his words and feeling her back and chest warm up. Words were stuck in her throat and she wanted to laugh at him at his forwardness but didn’t find it funny. Daisy found it… what? Daisy found it interesting. She found it curious. She found his words exciting, disturbing, and arousing even. Harry was alluring. He was sexy. He was too cocky but she really found him beyond attractive. But he was the new boy who was late and he’d been kind of full of himself since the moment he first spoke to her. So she shouldn’t feel any way about him other than indignance and annoyance. But he was something else altogether. His charisma and confidence were so natural to him that he made Daisy believe it. She believed he was all those exciting things and so much more. His large build and dark hair, his cockiness, his deep and raspy voice, that dimple. His green eyes. What on earth was going on?

Daisy felt her throat dry and her rapid heart beat confused her physical body to move at its normal pace. She wanted to speak back and say something smart but all the air in the room was lifted from her lungs as he neared her and looked down at her. He was stood so close she could smell his natural musky smell. It was the smell of his skin after a long nap. The aroma of a man who worked and there was a leftover odor of sweat but it wasn’t pungent or spicy which was normal for working men. It was rather sweet and sexy actually. He smelled like he was outdoors and laid in grass. The scent of air and sun on skin. He smelled like a man who wasn’t scared to get a little bit dirty. Daisy’s mind wandered to places that she didn’t realize had her so worked up that her chest was heaving a bit. He had succeeded in getting her worked up. Job well done, Harry. And then he moved in closer and squeezed her thigh again. She couldn’t handle it.

“Daisy.” was all she could squeak out before rushing out of the room, away from his dominant aura, from his self-assured attitude, from that goddamn face and body, away from his smug smile and sweet dimple, away from that overbearing charisma and the smell of sex that emanated off of him. Fuck! What happened to Daisy’s own confidence? Daisy was usually the one who strutted around the Archer house with that kind of certainty. Now there was Harry to match her own self-described magnetism. She was aware of the affect she had on others. Daisy sweet talked people, she stole, she lied, she batted her lashes and pushed her plump ass out when needed. Daisy talked a big game and everyone fell for it. She was truly nice under it all but needed the allure and charisma on top to get by in life. Things weren’t easy for a woman of her class. She knew all about Harry’s presence and charisma because she had it in spades, so why did it affect her so? Why did she become a bumbling and embarrassed mouse before him? That bastard. He wouldn’t get the upper hand again. She’d see to it. Daisy’d have him begging and pleading for mercy. There was no man who could match her appeal or leave her speechless. Not even Harry Styles.

Chapter 3

#harry fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #1920s era harry

[cherrykindness]

wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry imagine

[fruitcoops]

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

--------------

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

#finn ohara #logan tremblay #alex ohara #leo knut #oknutzy #cubs #hurt/comfort #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #brothers #broken bones

[rafescoke]

Crime ; Part 3

masterlist

Part #3

Read the previous parts here:

Part #1, Part #2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Maybe life just doesn’t go your way sometimes. 

Warnings: heavy writings on death! angst, just two people being in love but one of them is scared

A/N: ideas are inspired by @pogueslandia literally the sweetest <3

Maybe Rafe was overthinking it. 

He ran his fingers through her hair, his arms all wrapped up around her. The golden sunlight hit them squarely on the face, and the weather never looked so inviting. 

“Stop thinking,” he whispered, pulling her close. He placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head. 

She hummed, letting him caress her. The guilt was eating her away, and she hasn't felt good for a week now. 

5 more days until John B’s death sentence. 

And yet, here she was; all wrapped up with the boy she loved in the Bahamas. 

Rafe thought it would be ideal to bring her away from the chaos. Her parents thought it was a good thing too, with all of the commotion and rebellion by the pogues. It was her second day in the strange place, but even with all of the soothing sounds coming from the waves, she couldn’t forget about John B. 

Rafe sighed, “Is it about John B?” 

“No,” she quickly said. She bit her lips, blinking to stop her tears from crashing down. 

“I love you,” Rafe breathed. His fingers stayed on her stomach, and it was a pleasing sight to see; two people in love. If only one has never committed a murder.

(Y/N) pursed her lips, because she couldn’t utter the words back. She loved him, of course, but she was scared. It wasn’t like it was Rafe’s fault entirely; he gave her a chance to confess, but she didn’t. 

Love is truly a blinding bitch. 

. . .

“You guys came back early,” Ward said, helping them out with the bags. He turned to look at (Y/N), and then back to Rafe. He sighed. 

“What is it?” 

“She’s not feeling well,” Rafe mumbled. His eyes were tired, showing how they have been fighting since god knows when. (Y/N) didn’t look any well either, keeping to herself the whole time from their departure.

Ward made to grab his arms before he could follow (Y/N) into the house. “Control her.” 

“She’s not a dog,” he said through gritted teeth. He pulled his arms away, seething. 

“She’s going to tell on you.” 

“She won’t,” Rafe answered back, but he too, wasn’t sure. 

Because all of her actions were showing him otherwise. 

She wasn’t like (Y/N) he knew anymore, but he took it as her way to cope with the situation. 

“What is wrong with you?” Rafe finally asked. He plopped onto the bed beside her, his lips curling. 

“I’m just tired.” 

“All we did in the Bahamas was sleep,” he scoffed. “You can’t use that excuse, (Y/N), come on.” 

“Maybe if you actually try to understand me you’ll get it.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she sighed. She laid her back against his bed and closed her eyes, letting the darkness take over. 

“So like what? You’re going to tell the cops, huh? Is that what you’re going to do?” 

“God, can you let me breathe? We’ve just had a long fucking flight.” Her eyes opened, feeling so exhausted from the overwhelming situation. She didn’t know what to do, but fighting with Rafe was definitely not on the list. 

“Whose fucking fault is that?” He mumbled before standing up. 

Rafe exited the room, wanting to get away from her as soon as possible. He could feel it. He could see what was going to happen. He thought of this exact moment, but he didn’t really want to act on it out of fear. 

He wasn’t sure if he would ever hurt her.

Sometimes he felt like doing it, but he just couldn’t. Everytime her eyes set on him, he felt like seeing her for the first time again. 

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around Rafe’s waist as he stood near the railing of the porch. The sun was setting in, and it would look so mesmerising; just them two, but the feeling was long gone. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, and breathed into her scent. 

His girl. His. 

. . .

(Y/N) was sleeping right beside him. 

She looked so peaceful, her hair fixed to one side and her chest heaving slowly. 

He couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on her temple. 

She shifted, groaning slightly. 

Rafe panicked, “Shit, I’m so sorry, baby. Go back to sleep.” 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” She grunted, shifting her position to face him. “It’s midnight.” 

“Can’t sleep.” 

(Y/N) sighed, and pulled him close to her. “Go to sleep.” 

He smiled, laying his head against her chest now, and he could feel her heart beating. 

A few minutes after, he felt her poking him. “You’re asleep yet?” 

“No.” 

“Wanna go swimming?” 

“Where?” 

“The beach.” 

Rafe smiled, “You’re not tired?” 

“Am tired. But you can’t sleep.” 

She guided him to the exit, her hair messy from her slumber before. The moonlight glowed from above, illuminating the pathway to the beach behind her home. 

They sat on the beach for a while, just staring into the never ending landscape, until Rafe pulled her close again. 

“I love you.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “I know.”

She couldn’t. She just couldn’t utter it back. 

He removed his shirt, revealing his toned figure, and pulled her up her feet. She giggled, removing her own tank top and shimmying out of her shorts. She was completely naked now, and allowed herself to be pulled into the water. 

Strange enough, the water was not too cold or too hot. Just perfect. It was like the night was made for them. 

She giggled when Rafe pulled her further into the darkness, and a sudden thought of a strange creature in the water occurred to her. 

She reached for Rafe, her eyes trying to see through the water even though it was nearly impossible. 

Rafe laughed, holding her tight. Her chest was all pushed up against him, and he had never looked at something more beautiful than her. 

“We’re gonna die.” 

“Probably,” he rolled his eyes. “Maybe there’s that dinosaur from Jurassic World down here.”

She hit Rafe from the sudden thought of a monster underneath her, and went to swim away. Rafe laughed again, pulling her quickly by her wrist and letting her lay against his chest again. 

“I’m kidding. I’ll kill a monster for you.” 

They stared at each other again, breathing in each other’s presence, and finally, he closed in the distance. 

She melted into the kiss, feeling so good she never wanted to let go of that boy. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, and it was all so perfect; 

Like something out of a book. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispered. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, admiring her eyes, and placed another soft kiss. “So, so perfect.” 

(Y/N) smiled, always loving this side of Rafe. The side she knew before he. . .

She made to move away, but Rafe grabbed her again. He sighed, “What is it?” 

“I have to go,” she mumbled, and swam towards the beach. Rafe pulled her again, still so unsatisfied, because the moment was perfect, right?

They were kissing, he was telling her that he loved her. 

What else could he do? 

“What did I do?”

“Rafe, just let go,” she said, and pried her hands away. 

This time, he let her go. 

. . . 

Rafe thought it was finally time to make it right again. 

His relationship was getting rockier, and he intended for a smooth ride again. He straightened the dark blue suit he got from Chapel Hill, eyeing his watch from time to time. 

“Hey,” (Y/N) smiled, brushing her fingertips along his face. 

The gazebo was set exactly like the first time they met; all bright with fairy lights and smelled of floral candles. Her breath hitched at the sudden memory of that night. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she said. 

“I want to,” Rafe shrugged, helping her to her seat. He brushed her hair for good measure before going back to his seat. “You’re okay?”

She shifted uncomfortably, “Yeah.” 

They ate in silence. The only sound came from the clanking of the cutleries and the plate, and the constant sipping of the wine. 

Okay. Maybe what she did was wrong. 

But he’ll get out of it, right? 

He got money, the best lawyer in the states, and a high position. 

They wouldn’t put him through the death sentence.

Right? 

“I think it’s time,” Rafe said suddenly. (Y/N) looked up from her plate, her heart thumping wildly. Her eyes scanned the lake, and back to him. 

Rafe walked towards her, his mouth forming a bright smile. He reached for his pocket, pulling out a white box-

No. This couldn’t be.

(Y/N) won’t accept this. 

She simply just won’t. 

They’re too young. 

Too afraid. 

“No,” she said, scraping her chair to the back. “No, Rafe.” 

Rafe’s smile disappeared, his eyes turning low. “What?”

“No. I, I- I won’t accept it.” 

The diamond ring glimmered under the lantern, and (Y/N) noticed something similar from it. 

Her breath hitched.

Of course it would be the same promise ring she threw at him last year. Except it was updated. 

“It’s my mom’s ring,” he took a step closer. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want this?” 

More than anything. 

Her chest heaved, and she quickly put her hands up before him, as if protecting herself. “Rafe, I can’t. I’m so sorry.” 

He took a step closer, because god, he was so, so confused. He loved her more than anything in the world; more than himself. 

He was unsure about a lot of things, but not this. 

“Rafe,” she warned, still putting her hands up. “Please? I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t understand?” He whispered. His eyes were now filled with tears, and (Y/N) used all of her energy to stay away from him. 

For her own good. 

“I just can’t.” 

She stole a glance at his watch. She glanced at the lake again, her heart beating wildly. 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No,” she said. His forehead creased, and the tears were now completely wetting his suit. The ring was still left untouched in the box, still glimmering in the hope to be wrapped around someone’s finger. 

“Is it because-” he whispered. “Is it because of JJ? Did I do something wrong?”

“Rafe, stop,” she shook her head. “It’s not anyone’s fault. Let it go.” 

He took a deep breath. The box closed with a snap, and Rafe kept it back securely in his pocket. He held his head, walking away from her, muttering curses incoherently. 

“We can still be together.” 

“Fuck off,” he laughed. He pressed his back against one of the railings, closing his eyes and admitting to the darkness. His head felt light, and his fingers were trembling. 

“Rafe-” she walked towards him, placing a hand against his cheeks. He leaned into her, feeling her warmth, and didn’t try to stop the tears from falling. “I’m sorry, okay?” 

It was like falling down from a cliff; too fast, and everything happened in just a blink of an eye. 

Lights were coming from all directions, hitting them squarely on the face. Rafe protected his eyes from the red and blue lights, groaning, all the while searching for (Y/N). 

But she wasn’t there. 

“What the fuck?” He said to no one in particular, looking around wildly. Whatever the reason was, the police were coming to him; straight and fast. He knew he didn’t have time to reach for his car, not without (Y/N). 

“We’re not going to hurt you, son,” a voice bellowed from the lake. Rafe tried to see the figure, but the light was too blinding. “We’re going to make it fast and easy.” 

“What did I do?” He said, still trying to keep his cool, but it was failing miserably.

Anyone could see that Rafe Cameron was scared. 

Maybe it was the rejection from earlier. He didn’t know. What he was sure of was; he wanted to get away. 

The gazebo was guarded by the police now, and (Y/N) was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, taking a seat on her chair and grabbing the wine bottle. He downed the content, his heart beating wildly and his forehead clammy. 

It’s time. 

. . .

He had never felt this painful before. 

His head was throbbing, and his chest was soaring with agony in all the right places. He trembled as he sat up straight, trying to clear off his blurriness. 

It failed miserably when he reached for the toilet bowl, emptying his already empty stomach for the third time today. Rafe was sure 98% of the vomit was his bile, and he wished for nothing more than death. 

Everyone does this to him.

Every. Single. Person. 

Ward tried helping him, hiring the best lawyer in the United States of America, but the chances for him to be freed were low. So, so low. 

They told him that he did multiple offenses in one go.

He couldn’t name any of it, and he has accepted his fate anyways. He didn’t see the point in living when the girl he loved was no longer there in the light. 

His memory was fading really fast, and everything that happened around him seemed like a dream. He wanted to reach reality, but he wouldn’t allow himself. 

“Cameron, you got a visitor.” 

“Tell Ward that I’m okay with getting killed.” 

“It’s not your papa, boy,” the police sighed. “It’s a girl.” 

His head perked up at ‘girl’. Maybe it was Wheezie, coming to see how fucked up her brother is. He bit his lips, stopping the incoming tears from the thought of Wheezie alone. 

He followed the officer down the jail, his eyes scanning the other cellmates. Some jeered at him, knowing him as the ‘rich boy who never got himself into jail because of money’, and loving the fact that Rafe Cameron was finally getting the treatment he deserved. 

Rafe sat in the empty room, his eyes staring at the bent part of the metal table. He remembered this room clearly; the room he was forced into questioning and had seen him cry until there were no tears left to cry. 

He waited a few more seconds, only hearing some noisy sounds coming from the old air conditioning. 

“Okay, thank you.” 

His head turned to behind him, hearing her voice so clearly now that his heart was soaring again. He watched as she entered the small room, not looking at him, and placed herself before him. 

“Hi, Rafe.” 

Rafe stared at her, not saying anything. His thumbs were fiddling with each other under the handcuffs, and his legs were shaking wildly. 

He had missed her more than anything in the world. 

She looked so much healthier; her hair was up in a ponytail, and her cheeks were rosy and bright. 

She didn’t look miserable like him. 

“How are you?” 

What a stupid question. 

“What do you think?” He asked, tilting his head to one side. “Are you my therapist, or something? Did Ward hire some kind of a prison therapist to help me stay positive until the day I’m hanged?” 

She sucked in a breath. “Rafe, I’m trying to help you.” 

“Congra-tu-fucking-lations,” he smiled. “I’m getting the death sentence. Would you care to watch me getting hanged tomorrow? It'll be like seeing me play volleyball on the beach like last time.” 

Oh god.

She didn’t know.

How could she? 

They told her that everything will be alright, that he will be released after paying a large sum of money. It would be unfair to the sheriff, but at least no one is getting killed at the end of the day. 

How could she be so fucking naive? 

“I didn’t know.” 

He laughed, “It’s okay. Would you come and see me though? It’ll be a damn pleasure.” 

“Rafe, stop,” she said, clutching onto the table. “You’re not getting hanged, okay? I’m sorry. I’ll get you out of this.” 

He softened, finally realizing what he had been saying. He sighed, still fiddling with his thumb, and looked at her again. “There’s nothing else left to do. We did everything.” 

“No, no, I can fix this-”

“(Y/N),” he sighed. He placed his cuffed hands on the table, asking for hers, and she gladly accepted them. She bit her lips, failing to stop her tears now that she felt him around her again. 

Her sweet, sweet boy. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I accepted it. It’s my fault. There’s nothing you can do.”

There was a knock on the door, and (Y/N) jerked slightly from the sudden commotion.

3 more minutes. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” 

“There’s no other way,” he whispered. “But you will always be my love, okay?” 

She held him in her fingers now, caressing his face. She ran his fingers over the new scratches on his face a few times, soothing the pain down, and placed a soft, longing kiss on his lips. 

He kissed her back, feeling better slightly, and only pulled away when the second knock rang throughout the room. 

“Yes, by the way.” 

“What?” He asked, confused. His eyes were teary because god, he wished he could do better for her. 

For them. 

“Yes to marrying you.” 

He laughed. What a stupid thing to say a day before his death sentence. But he loved it. More than anything else in the world. He softened, “I don’t have the ring.” 

She guided his hands, sliding an imaginary ring over her ring finger, and she examined it admiringly under the white light. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

It was brief; their moment of happiness, but it was enough for Rafe. He couldn’t think of anything better than this, knowing that the love of his life had accepted to be with him.

(Y/N) pulled him in for another kiss as the last knock blared, and they stayed in that position after the door was opened, revealing the same officer who had brought her in. She gave (Y/N) a warm pat on the back, allowing her to give Rafe another long, last kiss. 

He could still taste her when she walked out, her eyes all wet now, her mouth whimpering. 

He put a hand up, waved it slightly to the right, his own eyes glassy. 

“I love you,” he mouthed. 

. . . 

Rafe didn’t know what to expect the next morning. 

He watched many crime documentaries and movies involving a death penalty before, but he never truly put his mind on what he would be feeling on the walk to the inviting creature called death. 

After (Y/N), Ward came to see him. They didn’t say much, only exchanging a few words of “how are you?” And “I’m okay”. But it was clear Ward Cameron was broken at the sight of his son. 

He failed as a father. 

He wished he could’ve been a better father to Rafe, because god, he loved him too much. He even thought of admitting to the crime, but the crime was too strong on Rafe’s side. 

He gave his one and only son a last, longing hug. They held each other in complete silence, just feeling the moment until an officer came, pulling Rafe away. 

He didn’t even get to say I love you. 

“You’re okay?” 

Rafe looked at whoever was responsible to kill him beside him, and nodded. “Yep.” 

He looked down at his white suit and sighed. “Can I wear something proper?” 

The man pushed him into the room, annoyed at his impulsive words. 

This boy just killed a goddamn sheriff, and he was still joking? 

“Rot in hell,” he told Rafe, to which he accepted the remark willingly. 

The executioner motioned for him to step on the tool, and Rafe thought about the simpler times in his childhood where he was told to stand on a stool in middle school by a teacher for kicking on a boy who touched Sarah on her newly washed hair. 

He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw her. 

The executioner, blinded by the black cloth around his head, looped the rope around his neck, and Rafe involuntarily swallowed his saliva. 

He looked down at his fingers, imagining his wedding ring. He smiled, looking up to the ceiling, watching as the white light blinded his eyes. 

Maybe in another life. 

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smuts #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron one shot #outerbanks #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines

[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter two

kirigan wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t care for appearance and reputation. he supposed he would have to tiptoe around you until you showed your cards. until then, he’d have you play new recruit.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] general kirigan (the darkling/aleksander) x reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: slight suggestive theme (mentioned in passing)

note: wow. i’m absolutely astonished with the enthusiasm the first chapter had. thank you guys so much! i have two exams next week so i’m not entirely sure if i’ll be able to update. i will try my best :)

here’s the masterlist

“here’s your room.” aleksander gestured to a room that was vaguely familiar.

brows furrowed, you turned to him. “your room is next to this one.”

his eyes rounded in mock innocence. “really? i hadn’t noticed.”

your nose crinkled in distaste as you glimpsed down the hall. “what of my old bedroom?”

“someone else is staying in there,” his arms folded across his chest. “alina starkov, the sun summoner.”

“oh? it’s to be expected, i suppose,” you bobbed your head, stepping to explore the room. “why create another staged cage when you already have one ready?”

“what?”

you observed the flowers by the bedside and plucked one out to tuck it behind your ear. “you like to give your prized cattle the very best so they may feel important, no? it makes it so much easier to subdue them.”

“what? prized cattle? alina’s not— you were never—”

while he wrestled for a response, you continued to inspect the room before happening upon a locked door. “where does this door lead to?”

“my room,” aleksander cleared his throat, recovering from your accusations.

you froze, your hands twitching, before you tore away from the door. “your room?”

“my bedroom, specifically,” he clarified. in that moment, he looked like the cat that ate the canary.

“why would anyone want to have a room connected to yours?”

looking into a mirror, aleksander fixed his appearance. “well, i assume these rooms were designed with my future lover in mind,” he replied.

bitterness rang throughout your body as you barked out a laugh. “your lover? to think you wouldn’t jump at the chance to house your precious sun summoner here. what? was there a snag in your plan to seduce her? a boyfriend back home?”

at his silent admission, your jaw dropped. then, genuine laughter erupted from you, causing you to lean on the bedpost. your knees nearly gave in until you saw his glare. you took deep breaths and tried to stifle your amusement behind your hand.

“i’m sorry. it’s rude to laugh,” you surrendered. while your giggles subdued, he remained silent. aleksander’s reflection was eerily still, his eyes far away from reality. when you stepped towards him, he broke from his stupor and made for the door.

“rest up. you have a full day ahead of you tomorrow.” he began closing the door when he paused just before it shut. “goodnight, [y/n].”

well, that was odd.

✵✵✵

with the sun high in the sky, aleksander walked with you to the training grounds.

“do all new recruits get escorted by you or is this arrangement special?” you walked beside him with your hands linked in front of you. you sported your new deep blue kefta with white detailing.

“i can’t risk you disrupting alina’s training with your spitefulness. whatever i may or may not be planning for her, she’s still ravka’s only hope of banishing the fold,” he said. “my accompanying you is a precaution as well as your formal introduction to the second army.”

as you approached your destination, you spotted multiple grisha huddled in a ring. two of them were fighting in the middle.

“you teach them physical combat now?”

“you’d be surprised how often we lose grisha to drüskelle because they’ve tied their hands. they cannot always rely on their powers,” he droned.

off to the side, you spotted a burly man. “you have a shu training them?”

aleksander looked down at you, “he used to be a mercenary. i think you’ll find him adequate.”

“i think you’ll find i’m already above your training,” you whispered as everyone turned their attention to you or, rather, aleksander.

the shu made his way over and bowed, “general kirigan, i had no idea you would be joining us today.”

you see a girl peek her head out from the corner of your eye, her face lighting up at the darkling’s entrance.

alina starkov. i see she already holds some sort of affection for him.

the general raised his hand, “please, botkin. i am only here to introduce everyone to our newest member, [y/n]. they’re a gravity summoner.”

at the sound of your name, you reverted your attention to the crowd and gave a small smile. placing a hand on the small of your back, aleksander guided you to the center. 

“actually, i was hoping you could evaluate their combat skills.”

you whipped your head around, staring at him incredulously. he didn’t change his diplomatic smile when he met your eyes.

“that is no problem, general.” botkin faced you and gestured to the crowd. “please, choose your opponent.”

your eyes scanned the crowd before you smirked inwardly. “if it’s no trouble to the general, i would like to fight him,” you requested. “i’ve only ever heard how powerful general kirigan is and, well, if he is the standard…”

the grisha around you looked at you as if you were insane. you peeked through your lashes at aleksander whose eye was ever so slightly twitching. before botkin could voice his disapproval, aleksander shrugged his kefta off.

“why not? i can’t remember the last time someone challenged me so bravely.”

you grinned as you threw off your own kefta. out of the corner of your eye, you saw the sun summoner pushing her way into the circle with a dazzled look. botkin warily lifted his hand. “no using your powers. only your fists and wits.”

you nodded and took an offensive position. botkin threw his hand down, “fight!”

you dropped down, doing a low spinning kick, and swept aleksander off his feet. he landed on his back with shock evident on his face. you then pressed your knee onto his diaphragm and gripped his sleeve. grinning, you gave him a cheeky smile.

“i don’t think i’ve ever had you on your back,” you said in a hushed voice.

with annoyance written on his face, he grabbed the lapel of your shirt and pulled you off him. he trapped your arms by your sides as he straddled you.

“because you always liked it when i was in control,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes. you thrusted your left hip up, effectively throwing him off balance and freeing you. you both scrambled to stand. aleksander crept closer to you and threw a punch. before his fist made contact, you blocked it and gripped his arm. you threw him over your shoulder and stepped on his shoulder joint. he groaned under the pressure when you leaned down.

“it’s a good thing i came to my senses then,” you said. “yield.”

he narrowed his eyes before you shifted your weight onto your foot. with the discomfort and pain rising, he quickly tapped your calf. you moved off him and offered a hand. he begrudgingly took it, allowing you to pull him up. the grisha stared with open mouths. you sheepishly smiled and hurriedly put your hands behind your back.

“i apologize, general kirigan. it seems i didn’t know my own strength,” you said in deceiving shyness.

he smiled tensely and slipped his kefta back on. “no, i am glad you are so advanced. it makes it all the more assuring that you are with us for the war effort.”

you bowed your head and brushed the dirt off your kefta, shrugging it back on. without another word, he left, alina following in his wake.

botkin clapped his hand on your shoulder. “you are an impressive fighter. where did you learn?”

“shu han. i lived there until hearing about the sun summoner.”

the man looked surprised before nodding. “your fighting style did appear familiar.” after that, he left you to be greeted by the others.

they were mostly friendly, some talking nonstop about how you defeated general kirigan. you just brushed it off as him going easy on a new recruit. you noticed another girl, a squaller judging by her kefta, glaring at you before stalking off.

“don’t worry about her,” a voice said. you turned to see none other than alina starkov herself. “apparently, she hates anyone that’s a threat to her spot as general kirigan’s favorite.”

“she must be delusional because there was nothing about that interaction that hinted at favoritism,” you snorted as you held a hand out. “[y/n].”

“i heard. i’m alina starkov.” she shook your hand with a bright smile. “it’s nice not to be the only new person.”

you returned her smile, “it all does feel rather isolating, doesn’t it?”

she laughed and nodded. “my friend, mal, and i never really liked grisha. they acted like they were the elite.”

ah, is mal the boyfriend?

“if i’m honest, i don’t like them either. i actually ran from ravka when i found out i was grisha,” you said honestly. “i guess i couldn’t run far enough.”

her eyebrows lifted, “oh? where did you run?”

“shu han. a nice place once the villagers get to know you.”

she tilted her head with confusion etching her face. “don’t they, you know, kill grisha?”

you scrunched your nose, “not as much on the outskirts. but, it gave me more reasons to hide my powers.”

“does that mean you’ll have to take lessons with baghra too?”

your shoulders tensed at the mention of the older grisha. you put on a grimacing smile, “i suppose so.”

oh, baghra’s going to kill me when she sees me.

with knowing eyes, alina grabbed your hands. “don’t worry. she’s a bit mean, but she does help you control your powers. 100% success rate, i hear.”

you nodded, patting alina’s hands, before withdrawing yours to your sides.

“alina!” two girls called. they waved their hands to usher her over.

alina looked at you apologetically. “sorry, i’ve got to go. lessons with baghra, actually.”

you sent her off with a wave. “it’s fine. it’s not like we won’t see each other again.”

she grinned, “right. i’d really like to be your friend, [y/n].”

you couldn’t help but soften at her words. “we already are, alina.”

her grin grew wider before she departed with her other friends, leaving you with your thoughts.

so full of life, that one. no wonder aleksander’s drawn to her. the brighter the light, the darker the shadows. let’s just hope he doesn’t snuff her out.

taglist: @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott​

continue to chapter three? yes

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #grishaverse fanfiction #aleksander morozova x reader #boreal star

[yesimwriting]

Searing Starlight (chapter two)

A/n Chapter twooo!! I cannot believe the support I’ve been getting on here im so excited to share my six of crows/shadow and bone fics with y’all!

 Lmk if you’d like to be tagged when I update this story!! And just letting y’all know I take requests so if you have an idea you’d like to see me attempt feel free to comment it or send it in :)) 

--

At least Kaz’s claimed ‘wraith’ (which is such an odd thing to just have) is a girl, and a seemingly kind one at that. She was quick to find me, body pressed into wooden shelves and glass bottles, and subtly gesture for me to follow her. It had been difficult to keep track of her flighty form through the crowd, but I think there was a point in her strange raveling, to make sure no one was following me. 

She’s not particularly talkative, but she doesn’t seem bothered by me. She tossed me a random oversized shirt to pull over my dress when she saw how I kept adjusting the fabric and crossing my arms. That was kinder than she needed to be. I think I’ll like her. 

“So you’re a wraith,” I manage, breaking the nervous silence, “Like a full time, constantly on-call wraith.” 

The question seems to puzzle her, dark eyebrows drawing together. “Yes.” The corner of her mouth twitches up slightly, a smile. “A full time, constantly on-call wraith.” She hesitates, perfect stance adjusting. “What were you doing before?” 

Great. This question. “Nothing important.” It’s not a fair cop-out. Especially since she answered my question. “I um...I’m indentured to Rollan Kenya.” 

I watch her reaction to the name. Some know of him. Some revere him. Some loathe him and everything he’s associated with. “His religious interpretations are controversial.” 

“If you think what he says to the public is bad you should hear what he says in private.” I push myself further into the chair I’m in. 

Something strange flickers over her features. “I can imagine.” 

Shaking my head, I hope I’m ending this conversation. “What’s your name?” 

A hesitation. “Inej.” 

I nod once, “I’m y/n.” 

“Do you need water, y/n?” 

I scratch my still exposed knee. “That’d be nice. Thank you.” 

She’s quick to leave, feet making no noise. A minute later she returns with a cup. I have no reason to suspect her, but I still sniff the cup before taking a cautious sip. I wonder if Anya made it back home. I wonder if she’s worse off for it. 

Before I can fall into a pit of debating despair, the door to the room Inej took me to squeaks open. On instinct, I snap my gaze towards the door, tensing. The first person I notice is Kaz, entering the room with a determination too intense for this time of night. Jesper is quick to follow, and I drop my stare. I’ve never had to interact with anyone I’ve lied to after taking their money. 

“Are they gone?” Inej asks, clearly accustomed to such brooding tension. 

Kaz nods once, “It took too much convincing--the Inferni’s more than she’s letting on.” 

I’m literally in the room. “I’m not--we’ve spoken two words to each other, sorry my abilities didn’t come up.” 

He turns towards me with a deadly grace. My grip on the cup tightens. What the hell is wrong for me? How deeply instilled is that god complex Kenya wanted in me? It must be as part of me as my name if I felt comfortable enough to speak that way to Kaz Brekker. 

I keep my eyes on his cane, waiting for some kind of physical retaliation. “Maybe the grisha hunting you would appreciate your sense of humor more.” 

It’s a bluff. He needs me. He’s desperate for something that can mimic a Sun Summoner. Still though, I’m not in the mood to poke a bear with a stick. “Speaking from experience,” I clear my throat awkwardly, “They tend not to.”

“Then I suggest you begin explaining before I decide I’d rather take my chances and you lose your worth.” 

Maybe if I hadn’t spent the last eleven years of my life with Kenya, his words would haunt me. I keep my expression set, but the lanterns in the room flicker. “It’s not as impressive as they’re making it seem--Inferni can produce fire, regular, red, bright fire.” I pause, feeling energy in my palms. “I can do the same, but I can also,” I extend a flat palm, “Do this.” 

I focus my energy on restraint, forcing the fire on my skin to remain there, covering my palms in a cold, blue glow. “It’s still fire, just blue--and that matters to them because blue light is the only kind you can use in the Fold.” Do they know anything about the fold? “Kenya, the man I’m indentured to, believes that this ability makes me eligible for Sainthood. He specializes in collecting people he thinks are eligible for Sainthood.” The low flame coating my palm licks upwards as I remember what disappointing Kenya means. “And if you don’t meet his standards, he’ll find a way to make sure you do. That’s why the grisha want me. He made me more and they believe that if they give me to someone who can give me an amplifier I’ll be able to produce enough blue light to protect an entire fleet.” 

“What do you mean ‘he’ll find a way to make sure you do’?” Inej’s voice is cautious. An attempt to be respectful. 

I drop my palm, letting the fire disappear into nothingness. “I wasn’t born with the ability to control the blue light so well--It’s difficult enough to produce for longer than two seconds let alone keep it from burning everything in sight. By the time I ended up in Kenya’s control he had learned that certain stimulants. Some scientists are working on a more grisha-targeted kind, but Kenya has managed to work with the generic well enough.” Hands shaking, I wipe the condensation off the side of the cup and hold out my wrist. Using the condensation, I begin to wipe at my wrist and forearm, smearing my makeup and revealing the needle bruises. “The key is withdrawals.”

Thoughts of begging Kenya, crying and screaming for another fix as he promised to give me that as soon as I showed some control of my abilities, make the shaking in my hand worse. I clasp my hands together, squeezing them in hopes of hiding the signs of withdrawal. 

I stare at the ground, not wanting to take anyone’s reaction in. I handle pity as well as I handle kindness. 

“Do you think you could produce enough blue light for one ship?”

Looking up, I take in Kaz’s measured expression. I’m glad he’s sticking to business. I’d rather that than deal with unpacking all of that with a group of strangers that don’t care if I live or die. 

“I could try.” I’ve never tried to protect anything that large. “Even if I can, it doesn’t mean a voyage like that will be safe.” 

“There’s no real safety in the Fold,” he replies easily. Realistic expectations. That will make this easier. “No one finds out about her--especially not Pekka Rollins.” 

I pull my arm towards my body, glad for the opportunity to hide the bruises. Signs of my weakness. The worst part was always the way Kenya would speak to me after. Pathetic. Weak. Trapped within the restraints of my flesh. 

“Who’s Pekka Rollins?” 

Kaz briefly turns his head in my direction. “No one that will ever concern you.” He ignores my annoyed huff. “We’ll use the Inferni to get to Alina Starkov.” 

Alina. Alina Starkov. “What do you want with Alina?”

 At that, the room seems to drain. I feel weirder than when they were seeing my abilities. 

“You know her?” Jesper’s surprise reveals more than Kaz wants him to. I don’t miss the glare he receives.

I half-shrug. “We were in the same orphanage for awhile.”

“How did you get to Ketterdam?” I don’t trust Kaz’s urgency. 

“I don’t remember, I was a child and I--I hit my head that night I think. I just woke up and I was with Kenya.” 

“How well do you know Alina?” 

There was a point in time in which she was my best friend. We learned how to braid hair by practicing on each other, we would draw maps together, and I was the only one who knew about her crush on Mal. “Not that well.” 

He takes a step forward, eyes almost squinting. The touch of distrust is evident on his face. “If you’re lying I’ll find out.” 

I owe Alina at least this. “Well then it’s a good thing I’m not.” 

I’m not naive enough to believe that I’ve convinced him, but his intense gaze does not remain on me. I’m relieved when his attention is off of me, but he’s only moving on to start planning the riskiest thing I’ve ever done. 

-- 

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black 

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone imagine #six of crows #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you #soc #soc imagine #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #inej ghafa #alina starkov #jesper fahey #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine

[ackerfics]

the parent trap — levi ackerman (iv)

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: angst??? and feels, i think

— summary: after assuming that everything was starting to shift further away from the plan, the people in the ackerman estate found out the identity of the boy mirroring the twin they know so well.

— word count: 8.6k (i know, i had to do it bc it's been so long)

— author's notes: finally, after weeks of not touching this series, i finally updated it. this part is centered around the reveal in levi's side of things. to those who watched the movie, you know things will go down from here. happy reading everyone !!

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

The news that was dropped on Altair last night stole away every ounce of sleep from him.

At first, he felt like everything collapsed on his shoulders. His mum is getting married? In what universe? There wasn’t even a decent man in a five-meter radius around his mother, well, except for her employees at the bridal shop. Nonetheless, all of the men trying to court her were turned down in an instant but why was she getting married to an idiot when he was away from home? The number of times he ran his hand through his hair and wishing everything was perfect can’t be counted on his fingers. First, it was that Cindy woman and now, an unknown man wooing you with serenades and God knows what in London has added himself in the list of pesky outliers. There shouldn’t be outliers in the first place. Throughout the night, Altair made his mind busy by making adjustments in their plan, eyes fixed on the ceiling in concentration.

The next thing he knew, daybreak dripped on his eyelids, peeking through the spaces between his curtains. Altair sat up on his bed and rubbed his eyes free of sleep crust before turning to his alarm clock on the nightstand. A red 9:34 glared at him, telling him he overslept. The boy huffed and plopped himself back on the plush mattress, his pillows swallowing him whole as he tried to give himself more hours of sleep. His five-minute doze was interrupted with a knock on his door. It took everything in him not to shout ‘five more minutes' so he decided to might as well wake himself up by walking to the door and answering the person on the other side.

Petra’s face beamed at him and Altair had to narrow his eyes because Petra’s smile was too bright for his own good. It was like looking too long at the sunrise.

“Good morning, Al!” the redhead greeted him.

“Morning, Petra,” Altair replied, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m sorry I overslept.”

Petra waved him off. “It’s fine. I expected it yesterday since you just came home from camp. You must be so tired. Why don’t you go take a bath and change and come downstairs for some breakfast? I’m sure this will wake you up — I cooked your favorites.” The boy nodded at her suggestion. She tried teasing him by calling his name again, Altair turning around to acknowledge his nanny with a raised eyebrow. “You know, I’d probably oversleep, too, if I were up in the middle of the night making mysterious phone calls from my bathroom. It’s pretty quiet in here at midnight so I think that pretty much exposed you.”

Altair froze at Petra’s inquiring tone, blinking his speechlessness. In an instant, he doesn’t feel sleepy anymore. He scratched his undercut. “Uhm, it was a friend from camp. He just wanted to talk to me, that’s all.”

The redhead hummed as she crossed her arms. “Ooh-kay. Well, your breakfast will be waiting on the kitchen counter!” She shouted while making her way downstairs.

“Okay!” Altair yelled back.

He opened his closet and took out a blue flannel, a white undershirt, and a pair of jeans. Without wasting any more time, Altair got himself ready by taking a bath just as Petra suggested and made himself presentable once he reached the kitchen. His hair was still wet, a towel wrapped around his shoulders when he inhaled the savory smell of breakfast on the first floor. As Altair sat on the high counter stool, Petra turned around from cutting up fruits and placed too many plates in front of the boy with a smile. He couldn’t control the twitch in his eyebrows as he stared at his breakfast. Is his twin really eating this much food every morning? He realized he might be coming off as rude since he was only staring at the number of bacon slices on his plate so Altair took a bite of bacon and let the sound of knives against the cutting board flit through his ears.

“Petra?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a cup of rose tea?”

Petra stopped cutting the mangos and stared at Altair, who was immersed in doing small bites of his breakfast. The redhead stared for a moment and assessed the way Altair picked up his fork and knife — it was the same way a certain someone did back in college when Levi’s friend group and lover ate meals together. Now that Petra remembered it; when you gave birth to the twins, she mentioned how one of them inherited the shape of your eyes. It could be a trick of the light but Altair’s eyes were softer in the edges instead of the sharpness Levi adorned, the boy’s eyelashes slightly fuller than usual.

“Petra?”

The said woman jumped at the mention of her name, with Altair’s face scrunched up in worry at her lack of response. She cleared her throat while transferring the mangos in a small bowl, sliding it towards Altair. “Yeah?”

The silver-eyed boy rose an eyebrow. “Are you alright? You look like you were in a trance there.”

“I’m fine.” Petra washed her hands before wiping them dry with a clean towel. Her gaze went from the boy’s expectant stare to his unfinished breakfast. This was weird. Altair usually never leaves any leftovers on his plate, it was what Levi taught him since he could eat on his own. Pushing this matter at the back of her mind, she smiled. “You’re not going to finish that, Al?”

Altair looked down on his half-eaten scrambled eggs, bacon slices, and still full pasta salad. He only had a couple of bites from the last dish and wished he could eat more but the two slices of bacon and scrambled eggs made him full in an instant. His stomach couldn’t handle too much in an early hour. He needed the tea to wash all this down. “No, I’m not, I think I’m full,” he answered, patting his stomach with a grin. He hoped Petra wouldn’t notice that his appetite wasn’t like his twin. That idiot (his twin, never Petra) appeared small like him but the buffoon has a vacuum inside his torso, always hungry at the wee hours of the day. If this was roast beef, this was a different story. “Must be because I’m tired from the trip. I don’t feel like eating and moving around too much.”

Petra nodded in understanding, preparing the rose tea the boy requested. She was waiting for the water to boil as she glanced at Levi’s pride and joy. “So why rose tea?”

“Pardon?”

Pardon? With a suppressed chuckle, Petra turned around with an incredulous expression on her face. “Camp made you prim and proper, huh? So why rose tea, champ?”

“Because I thought it would be nice to try the flower teas instead of the fruit-flavored ones this time. I know Dad has been experimenting with flowers for the next blends.”

Petra hummed, letting the tea steep for a few minutes. The scent of roses immediately wafted across the kitchen, making the two sigh in contentment. Petra wasn’t one for tea but smelling the pink drink made her want to try one. She presented the cup of rose tea to the black-haired boy, who was leaning forward to finally have his drink, his silver eyes sparkling at the small petals floating on top of his tea. Petra knew she was watching Altair closely but all her doubts flew out the window when she witnessed the boy hold the teacup the same way Levi does. Maybe she was looking into this too much. She shook her head and took away the leftovers, placing them in containers.

She missed the way Altair blew out a sigh of relief, a small half-smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

Altair stood up from his seat, patting his lap from imaginary dust and placing the towel from his shoulders to the back of the counter stool. He took a long sip of his tea before grinning widely at his nanny. “Thank you so much for breakfast, Petra!”

“No problem, kiddo. Oh, and your Dad wants to talk to you about something. He’s in his office.”

“Okay!”

The black-haired boy walked past the archway leading to the living room, where the glass double doors to the patio were located. Snuggling on the floor and chewing on his toy was Levi’s golden retriever, Captain. Altair flinched when he saw the dog shift their head in his direction. A series of barks came out of the pet, making the boy hurry for the handles of the double doors. His heart was pounding when he couldn’t get the doors to open, pulling on them as Captain was now standing up to give him another round of barks. It caught the attention of Petra and the woman instantly shot to the living room but not before shouting something that made Altair’s ears turn red of embarrassment.

“Push, Al.” Petra was now wrapping her arms around the dog, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

Altair stopped for a moment, twisting the handles of the double doors and pushing them just as Petra said. He turned around with a sheepish smile, chuckling nervously because this mistake might have lost him the plan. “Must have slipped my mind.” He had never gotten out of a house that quickly in his entire life.

Only when he stepped foot on the patio that he could breathe normally. Altair kicked a pebble on the pathway, hands snug inside his pockets, as he thought about what his father will tell him. He followed the pathway until he was met with a slope, a building looking the main estate was sitting on top of the small hill overlooking the plantation. With a bundle of nerves swirling in his stomach, Altair took a deep breath and trekked the hill. The higher he got, hectares of a variety of tea trees greeted his vision, mimicking the sea with its vastness. It was the first time he saw something so wide and before he knew it, questions started entering his mind.

If the Ackerman family held so much money, why did his grandparents make his mum go back to London? Why did they take away the only person who made her feel loved in every sort of way possible? She could’ve been happy here. Everything is so soothing and secure.

The sound of people talking snapped him back to reality. Altair shook his head and continued his small walk towards the building. It looked like there was more activity in here than he imagined. People were sorting out the tea leaves they harvested and others were manning a machine meant for grounding the leaves. It was so busy that he didn’t realize he stopped in front of the huge window showing all of the employees trying to keep Levi’s business booming.

A person rounding the building noticed his gawking and smiled a little. They clutched the flowers they picked for the new blends Levi was experimenting on and went to the black-haired boy. “Al, welcome home. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday to welcome you back.”

The silver-eyed boy turned around to the young woman sharing his features — the same jet-black hair, pale complexion, and shade of silver for the eyes (though hers were more on the bluish side of the spectrum). He tried recalling the family members his brother told him to remember. There was a woman with the same appearance in one of the pictures. She was hugging the Altair she knows, their smiles shining through the piece of shiny paper. She was the older cousin his twin was telling so many stories about since she was the only one closer to his age around the household. The Altair standing in front of her right now smiled, muttering her name, “Mikasa.”

Mikasa returned the smile with her own, sitting on her heels to meet the boy’s eyes. “How was camp?”

“My opponent in a fencing competition pushed me in the washing area of our pavilion.”

Mikasa winced, ruffling the boy’s hair gently. “Why did they do that?”

Altair shrugged, feeling proud of himself for doing that to his twin despite being guilty to this day. “Guess he was better than me at fencing. He has a teacher specifically for that sport back in their hometown.”

“Oh, wow. If you want someone to practice fencing with, I’ll gladly help you.” The young woman tilted her head with a smile. “That is if you want to go back to that camp next summer. I’ll even learn the rules for you.”

The older of the two had so many records in her portfolio. Altair recalled that his brother was gushing about how Mikasa was a part of the track and field team the entirety of her stay in college. She was also a part of a volleyball club when she was in high school. This young woman has everything in her belt and it would be so good if Altair practiced fencing with her. However, he also realized that Mikasa probably had her hands full with academic and familial responsibilities. “But you have your final year in college, though, and you’re so busy in the plantation.”

Mikasa once again tousled Altair’s hair, chuckling under her breath. “Anything for my baby cousin so don’t worry about it.” She looked down at the pile of flowers in her arms. She handed a single red lily flower to Altair. “Here, to brighten up your day.” Mikasa stood up and waved at Altair. “I’m testing these flowers out with some berries, kiddo. I’ll be in the kitchen by the sorting room with Annie. If we can get the right combination, we’ll let you try some. Your dad is in his office waiting for you.” With that, Mikasa turned around but not before ruffling Altair’s hair again.

Altair nodded at nobody in particular and entered the building with a slight skip in his steps. The office was situated on the second floor of the manor-like establishment. The color palette of red and olive green was still observed in the interior but the large, open balcony let in enough light to illuminate the second floor. There was a railing surrounding the middle space of the entire floor, perfect for looking down and observing the bustling life inside the house. Altair’s destination, however, was the door to the left side of the second floor down a painting-covered hallway. He tentatively knocked on the door with his father’s name pinned on it. Altair faintly heard someone call inside the room and opened the door to peek his head in.

Levi was behind his desk, phone close to his ear. “Yes, Erwin. I thought you will be visiting because of Altair today. I see. No problem. You can visit the plantation anytime.” He glanced at the opened door, seeing Altair meekly staring at him. He smiled a little before telling Erwin, “Al’s here. Yeah. The stocks are fine and the new blends are coming out great. Sure, I’ll send you some. Bye.” The silver-eyed man sighed as he placed his phone on the desk. “You can come in, Al. Usually, you just barge in here and wait for me on the couch.” Levi hummed, eyes softening at the sight of his son grinning in front of him.

Altair chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I thought it was an important call.”

“It was just Eyebrows.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.”

The boy sat on the couch, eyes inconspicuously roaming around the office. He heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and Altair looked up to find his dad preparing a cup of tea in the kitchenette installed in the room. He looked away from Levi and shifted his attention to the framed photographs on the desk. Everything wasn’t facing him but there was one frame positioned to face the person behind the desk. Altair craned his neck to get a glimpse of the picture, his eyes going back and forth between the frame and his dad, who was waiting for the tea to steep. With his body draping over the couch and neck stretching as far as he could (the position was starting to hurt), Altair saw that it was a picture of you, his mum. The silver-eyed boy gasped because it was you in a wedding dress.

“Blimey.”

“Al?”

Altair dropped the position with a huff. He straightened himself to face a confused Levi, a tray of two teacups filled with raspberry tea held by his hands. “Thought I could just, you know,” he nervously chuckled, “get a good stretch after oversleeping. So what’s up, Dad?”

Levi hummed, placing the tray on the low table. He sat beside Altair, body facing the little boy as he surveyed the innocent smile plastered on his son as he sipped on his cup of tea, the two of them mirroring how they held their cups. Maybe it was because Al went away for summer camp in the last eight weeks or maybe he was just missing you and your presence in his life, but Levi felt his heart clench at how fast his little boy was growing. The summer camp must be a blessing in disguise because his boy came home with newfound manners and the whole time he was away, he thought hard enough to make a decision he won’t come to regret. Eight weeks was a long time, things are bound to change. So Levi cleared his throat and readied himself in spilling his carefully thought-out plans to his son.

“There’s something really important I want to talk to you about, Al,” Levi started, putting this teacup back on the low table.

“That’s funny because there’s something really important that I want to talk to you about.”

“Yeah? Well, you go first, kiddo.”

Altair shook his head rapidly, gulping down his tea first. “No, you first, Dad.”

“Hmm.” The black-haired man carefully formulated the words in his mind. The first order of business was to cut off any people who would dare hurt his son. Yesterday was just the catalyst in his ongoing debate with Petra all summer to get rid of the publicist leeching off of him. From the look on Altair’s face while he was wading in the pool, Levi figured that Cynthia said something to him that might have shaken his mind. He leveled his gaze with Altair’s and told him, “Okay, I want to talk to you about Cynthia, the hired publicist for the teahouse and plantation.”

The boy turned his body so that he was seeing his father eye to eye. “And I wanted to talk to you about Mom.” Altair furrowed his eyebrows in distaste. “Oh, so Cynthia’s her name. What about Cynthia?”

Levi blinked in surprise. He knew Altair was a smart kid but he didn’t expect him to pick up on things so fast. There was no one in the estate that he shared his current sentiments. Petra was known to be a person not careful enough to keep a secret hidden from Altair and Erwin will most likely tease Levi throughout the day if he revealed his plans. Not to mention that Mikasa will probably indulge his kid in spilling every embarrassing thing about him so that makes his niece out of the list of people worthy enough to be told a secret.

With a calm voice, he regarded his little him with a flat expression. “What about your mom?”

Altair groaned in exasperation. “Dad, I’m almost twelve. I’m at a point in my life to ask about the whereabouts of my mom. You can’t expect me to believe the stork story all my life!”

A slow inhale and a look at the ceiling was all Levi needed to compose himself. “You know what, that is a story for later. But first, we’re going to talk about the publicist. Did she say anything to you? Anything that might have hurt you in any way yesterday?”

One pair of gray eyes looked away from the other to examine the invisible dust gathering on top of the coffee table. Altair wanted to tell Levi that Cynthia was trying to exploit him, trying to wound him in her trap and to make him fall in love with her. But the way that his father was insisting on the topic of Cynthia instead of you didn’t sit right with him at all. To Altair, it looked like Levi was desperate to clean the woman’s name and to make him build a relationship with her when the time comes that she’ll be carrying the Ackerman name. He mentally apologized to his other half across the ocean for not having the strength to continue the plan. Because as he glanced at Levi, the man’s concern apparent on the glint of his eyes, Altair wanted his father to be happy — to love someone without any pain that spanned for more than a decade.

“No, she didn’t say anything to me. She just told me how happy she is to be on the plantation.”

As much as he was scared to be a father when his boys were born, Levi always knew if his son was lying after years of raising Altair alone (with the help of Petra but the nanny will always give him the credit). Right now, however, he couldn’t tell if Al was lying or not. “Al, are you telling me the truth? If not—“

The door burst open, bringing with it an overly dramatic woman. “Levi? Are you here, sweetie?”

Eld followed after Cynthia, his face betraying his aggravation at the woman. “Don’t just enter Levi’s office without permission, Ma’am!”

Cynthia scoffed, insulted at the term. “'Ma’am’?! I’m not that old, employee.”

The blonde man bristled. He tried puffing his chest to remind the publicist that he has more authority than just a last-minute accommodation in the staff, but he stopped when he saw Levi starting to stand up from the couch. He had never seen his boss express anger in his years of being Levi’s secretary, however, the apparent look on the onyx-haired man will probably drive Cynthia more than six feet under the surface. Eld dismissed Cynthia with a roll of his eyes, focusing on the annoyed man walking towards them with terrifying footsteps. “Levi, she just went inside the building. Believe me, we were trying to prevent her from getting her head cut off by you but she wouldn’t listen!” The blonde glared at the woman who was gasping dramatically, manicured hand pressed on her chest. “Levi, you have to believe me. Mikasa even had to—“

“I understand, Eld.” Levi’s voice was uncharacteristically icy. Sure, he was known for being blunt and dismissive at times but that was the man's nature in forming social relationships. The employees were used to him being that way. Right now, though, his glare could have frozen Cynthia in place. “What is this, Miss Maryland? I thought I told you to leave a message to my secretary if you want to have an appointment with me. But I remember telling you that I’m not free this day.”

Cynthia pouted. “But I also told you that I wanted to have lunch with you! Is your job more important than me? Or are you just using that as an excuse to not make time for me?”

Eld looked scandalized at the woman’s reaction while Altair was wincing at the sound of Cynthia’s whine.

Levi was praying for his ears as well, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself down. He looked at Altair at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t recall you being on my priority list, Miss Maryland, and I have plans with Al today anyway. Horseback riding.”

“You’re lying!” The woman turned to Altair. “Is this true, Al, darling?”

The boy quickly took note of the hint of desperation from his father’s eyes so he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be riding Nox since I miss my horse while I was at camp.”

“You heard my kid,” Levi drawled. “Now get out. You’re invading my privacy — sounds fitting for your job.”

Cynthia’s face scrunched in disgust, turning around abruptly, her hair hitting Eld in the face. The blonde man sputtered before incredulously staring at the retreating publicist. There wouldn’t be any need for Mikasa to restrain her if needed since she knew the way out. Eld turned back to Levi and Altair, his face showing how guilty he was. “Levi, I’m really sorry. If I’d known she’ll barge in here like this.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you, Eld.”

“Alright.” Eld trailed off, shifting his attention from Levi to Altair. He waved at Levi’s son before pointing at the door behind. “Have a great afternoon, you two.”

Levi nodded at his friend, sitting on the couch with a sigh when the door closed. He had to get rid of that publicist, she was starting to become a headache. Levi then felt a small weight on his shoulder. Turning his head to the side, a head of onyx hair greeted his vision. With a small smile, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around Altair, letting him snuggle into his side some more. The two of them cherished the silence as if the room was their haven, away from pesky publicists and the bustling activity a floor below.

Speeding through the plantation felt liberating for Altair. He wanted to raise his arms in the air as they zoomed by the small tea trees but that would mean having Levi being suspicious of him. At first, Altair thought that the predicament with Captain would be the same with Nox but the black beauty of a horse nuzzled his palm affectionately as if he was the real owner. Of course, it couldn’t happen without the help of the sugar cubes laid out on his palm. Now, he was laughing as he raced with his dad, their destination was the hill on the other side of the plantation. It looked like Levi was winning but Altair tried to spur Nox faster. A blur of black reached their landmark, a tree with a swing on it, and Altair whooped at the top of his lungs.

“I won!”

“You always win,” Levi told him, a loving stare directed at his son.

Altair turned his horse to meet Levi’s stare. “I do?”

A confused frown painted the silver-eyed man’s lips.

At that, Altair brightened immediately, realizing his mistake. “I do! Just slipped my mind again. I can’t seem to stop forgetting things. That’s so weird.”

Levi guided his horse to walk towards Altair’s. “Yeah, so weird,” he murmured until he was beside his son. They stared at the plantation with varying expressions. The boy looked so mesmerized at how the sun touched every single tree while Levi blankly surveyed the rows of what brought him to this moment. It was once upon a time when he brought you here during spring break in junior year at college, telling you his dreams of starting a tea plantation. You looked radiant against the sunset, the rays creating a halo that Levi wanted to preserve forever. Altair’s laugh when he won has the same smile as yours when you manage to outrun him in a race. Levi couldn’t help but think of a life with you and the twins here in the plantation and estate, the two boys growing up with each other and with both parents unlike now. The four of you wouldn’t experience the pain brought by the separation. But reality struck him hard when Altair breathed out an expelling sigh, eyes soft around the corners like yours.

“So, Al, do you think we’re lonely?”

The said boy looked at his dad, who was wistfully looking at the plantation like it was hurting him. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Altair’s grip on the reins tightened. “Why are you asking this, Dad?”

Levi took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, Al, but I feel lonely every night. The moon and the stars must be tired of my internal monologues to them, all wishing to have a normal night with our complete family. But with Maryland here, there seems to be someone at the back of my head telling me to make a move. You know what, Al, I want—“

“Race you back to the ranch, Dad!”

“What—wait, Al! Hey, slow down, kiddo!”

Tears were starting to blur Altair’s vision as he rode around the plantation. No, the plan wasn’t going to work. His twin brother was a liar when he said he had an amazing and genius plan. Everything was starting to burn in flames and Altair had no choice but to watch it fester until only ashes remain. When he reached the stables, he tied the reins to the post with hurried yet precise knots. And Altair ran and ran. Up the slope leading to the manor, past the building where the workers were happily interacting with another until he felt himself bumping into someone. He brushed off a concerned Mikasa shouting at him to slow down. Minutes later, Levi passed by the fretting young woman, the latter asking if Altair was alright. But the onyx-haired boy finally reached the safe confines of their manor, passing by the opened double doors. He started pacing around the living room.

Altair buried his hands in his hair, his accent coming out as he rambled. “This isn’t going the way he expected it to. Bonkers, this is a mess! I’m just a kid and I couldn’t handle everything at once. Now, Mum’s getting married to a person I don’t know and Dad is tying the knot with Cindy—Cassandra—whatever!” He leaned on the back of an armchair, body slumping on the plush cushion. “And I don’t even know Dad as much as he does. How am I supposed to fix this?”

“What are you trying to fix?” Petra suddenly appeared in the armchair. (She was there all along but she figured that by keeping quiet, she will learn more about why Altair acted strangely since he came home.) The redhead stood up, arms crossed on her chest. “Do you want to share something with the class, Al?”

Altair jumped back, placing a hand on top of his pounding heart. “You gave me a fright, Petra.”

Petra leaned back with an expression of disbelief. “What? Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk to me about? If you’re scared of your dad finding out your secrets right now, you can always tell me.” Altair remained silent as he stared wide-eyed at the nanny and housekeeper. “Care to explain to me why Captain doesn’t like you anymore when he has been with you since you were a toddler? Or how you can’t open the doors properly? Even your appetite change this morning. I have so many questions, Al, and it all stemmed from when you came home. Do you know something we don’t?”

The boy shrugged. That didn’t seem to alleviate the suspiciousness he carried. “I just changed over the summer, that’s all.”

Petra slowly took a step forward and tilted her head down to meet Altair’s eyes. “I’m starting to think you were raised …” She shook her head to dispel the thought and turned around to make herself busy in the kitchen. “That’s impossible. Never mind. I must be needing sleep from all these theories.”

“I am raised by who, Petra?”

She waved her hand to dismiss the question. “Forget it, Al. I’m not supposed to talk to you about this anyway.”

“Like I’m raised by [Name] [Last Name]? Like I’m the other half of one pair of twins?”

The redhead tensed at the question, her smile frozen in place. She managed to blink herself outside of her stupor, slowly regarding the onyx-haired boy, who was gradually turning into an image of you. Those eyes, though sharing Levi’s stormy irises, were reminiscent of your kind ones — always appearing as soft as they can be despite the intensity of a present glare. Petra was at a loss for words and she had to clear her throat a couple of times to find her voice. “How do you know her full name? How do you know that you have a twin, Al? How do you know about—?”

“About Caelum?” The boy pursed his lips, forcing himself to smile. He dropped the act because there was no use continuing their charade any further. Besides, this is Petra, the most loyal person from what he could observe during a full day in the Ackerman estate. She reminded him of Oluo, the way they stuck to each parent almost every day. His British accent came out when he said the next words, “That’s because I am Caelum.”

If this wasn’t a serious situation, Caelum would’ve laughed at Petra’s reaction.

“Altair?!”

Levi looked around when he stepped foot on the patio. However, he was surprised at the peculiar scenario welcoming him in the living room — it was as if Petra was looking at his son for the first time in years. The redhead had both hands covering her mouth, tears prickling her eyes, and an expression showing disbelief. He rose an eyebrow in incredulity because nobody paid him any attention. With measured footsteps, Levi placed a hand on his son’s shoulders, making the boy jump a few inches in the air.

“Hey, buddy,” his voice was so soft since his boy looked shaken up just as much as Petra, “why did you take off on me like that? I told you I wanted to talk to you about something.” His son looked up at him with wide eyes so Levi expectantly glanced at Petra. The woman was still silent with that constipated look on her face. “Petra, do you need to take a shit? Why are you looking at Al like that?”

Caelum was breathing heavily, eyes pleading with Petra to let him tell Levi the truth.

With a subtle nod, Petra wiped her eyes and turned to Levi, who had his face scrunched in perplexity. “Like what? I’m not looking at him in a special way.” She shrugged but with one look at the bright-eyed boy beside her friend, her voice started to falter. “I’m looking at him like I’ve looked at him for eleven years. Since the day he came home from the hospital, all wrapped up and squirming for contact with his parents.” Petra looked like she could cry any minute. (Levi was staring at her like she had grown a second head. He was ready to give her a day-off.) “Seven pounds, five ounces, 21 inches long. This is how I look at him.”

Caelum felt himself smile as Petra gestured at him.

“Can I hug him?”

Levi blinked and stayed silent for a second. He lifted his hand from his son’s shoulder and stepped back since Petra wrapped the boy in a tight hug. He felt the back of an armchair behind him, leaning against it with a sigh. “Everybody’s so weird.”

As the woman continued hugging Caelum, she exclaimed, “Oh, he’s so beautiful and he’s grown so much.” The boy nuzzled his head on the crook of his nanny’s neck, a large smile painted on his face.

For once in his life, Levi wanted to sleep the day off. Maybe everything might go back to normal.

Petra pulled away from the hug, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. She pointed at Caelum while trying to control her voice from shaking. “I’m going to make you something special to eat. What do you feel like eating? Anything? You know what?” She waved her hand once she reached the entrance of the kitchen. “I’ll just whip up something from everything we’ve got, okay?” With a last nod and an apologetic smile directed at Levi, Petra went to the kitchen whilst wiping her tears, leaving behind the two Ackermans’.

Now that heartfelt moment ended, Levi knew he had to tell his son what’s weighing on his mind for the past years. All it took were eight weeks for him to steel himself in making a choice he won’t come to regret. If only he had done this when you gave him your back, a baby looking like him snug in your arms and reaching out to a father he won’t come to have. If only he had chased you to London, fighting for your love in front of your parents, promising a life filled with enough luxury for your newfound family. If only he had the strength back then, none of this would’ve happened. So Levi gently directed his son to the couches, sitting in front of the boy on the low table. Their gazes matched each other and it looked like Levi was staring at his younger self.

“We have to talk.” The onyx-haired man’s voice was so soft, matching his visage that was contorted in slight wariness and expectation.

Caelum nodded. “Okay. Shoot, Dad.”

Levi nodded back. “I’ve been thinking about this since you were a toddler and this summer was the only time I could focus on debating with myself on it.” He took a deep breath, his heart thundering in his chest, and his cheeks burning. “Al, I want to get back together with your mom.”

The whole world stopped. Caelum stopped breathing for a few seconds. There was a lack of emotions inside him at first, him just staring like an idiot at Levi. Suddenly, he felt like jumping but that would look suspicious so Caelum abruptly stood up in front of his dad, tingles traveling in every fiber of his body.

“Al?” Levi asked, confused at the constipated look on his little boy.

Bright gray eyes stared back at Levi, Caelum’s grin erasing every doubt in his father’s body. “This is perfect, Dad!”

“It is?” The onyx-haired man trailed off before perking up a little, a small grin tugging his mouth upwards. “Yeah, it is. I decided that I will do everything right this time and have our family back again.” He looked down wistfully on the floor, fingers wringing with each other. He murmured under his breath, “I wonder how Caelum’s doing right now. Will he like me? I’m not exactly awarded with the best father of the year title.”

On the other hand, Caelum heard it and he couldn’t help but grin knowingly. He erased that on his face when Levi looked up at him. “So, Dad, what are you going to do about Cindy?”

“What about the publicist?”

Caelum sat back down, leaning forward to enunciate his next words. “Well, it’s quite obvious that she’s so enamored by you.”

Levi scoffed a disdainful laugh. “Why would she? I’m not interested in her in some way. I don’t even like women her age.”

“That’s the thing, Dad. I heard from her yesterday that you’re planning on telling me something. I figured it would involve her since she suggested it. It might be a different thing than what you told me right now.”

“Oh, that. I decided, with the help of Petra and the other workers, that you will be the face of the tea shop. Since I am not too comfortable with the idea of having my pictures posted on every branch, a majority vote prompted you to do the job. But Mikasa suggested that we also do that by putting you in the new label design. It doesn’t have to have your face on it, just your silhouette. I think Isabelle will do that well enough.”

“So,” Caelum prolonged the word, “you’re not engaged to her, right?”

Levi looked ready to barf his lunch. “What? Where the hell did you get that idea?”

A sheepish smile prevented the laugh that was bubbling in Caelum’s chest. “I tend to overthink at times, Dad.”

The silver-eyed man sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You get that from me.”

“I asked you that because yesterday, she told me you proposed to her because you wanted me to have a mother figure. She even told me you dated because you liked her at first sight. She mentioned that you went horseback riding in the sunset like a typical chick flick pairing and there you confessed that you felt lonely because Mom left you. Oh, I mustn’t forget how you reciprocated her feelings under a moonlit night. Hey, Dad, where are you going? Dad?”

“Don’t mind me, Al, I’m killing a bitch this afternoon and it’s best if you stay put while I do that.”

“Dad?!”

Cynthia Maryland is a fucking menace to society.

It has been so long since Levi met a person who just by talking, brain cells are diminishing at every word they utter. The first one who made him feel this way was a genius, however, they were too much for his social battery. They always hung off of him at times during college all because they were your childhood friend, who followed you to America to make you feel like you had someone in a foreign country back then. That was seen as endearing but this time, it’s fucking irritating. Levi didn’t even have to control himself from showing how much he wanted this meeting to be over.

“Miss Maryland, can you please listen to me for one second?” Levi spat out, the stress coming to him in a migraine.

“I am listening, doll, and I guess those plans with Altair didn’t happen because you have me in your office — doors closed and just the two of us,” Cynthia spoke in a sultry voice that didn’t have any effect on the man slumped on his chair. “I will do anything for you, Mr. Ackerman.”

“Thank God for that.”

Cynthia was over the stars at that statement.

“Because I believe it’s time for your job as my shop’s publicist to be terminated. So I suggest getting out of here.”

“What?!” The brunette all but shrieked.

At the commotion, a knock resonated in the room. “Levi, is everything all right in there?” Mikasa asked. “Do you need me to restrain her?”

“No need, Mikasa,” Levi answered, not looking away from the distressed woman squawking in front of him. “Hey, Maryland, what are you whining about? Didn’t you hear what I just said? You’re fired. What are you still doing here?”

“Pray tell, why are you firing me?! You need me!”

Levi rose an eyebrow. “Why would I need you when I have capable people working on the plantation right now? It was a mistake hiring you. Eld was actually the one who wanted to have a publicist for the tea shops and if my secretary said it would be beneficial to the business, I will always say yes. But I guess he hired the wrong person. As for the question of why I fired you, let’s just say, you were spewing things that weren’t even true. And of all people, you said those things to my son. What are you trying to gain from telling him we’re fucking engaged? Money? My last name?”

The brunette remained silent, angry tears dripping on her cheeks.

“Let me tell you this, Miss Maryland, you’re not worth those things. So if you don’t want me to get fucking angry at you, get the fuck out.”

While the whole debacle with Cynthia was happening in Levi’s office, Caelum was in the kitchen rolling a pin over a chunk of dough. The silver-eyed boy was helping Petra with the afternoon snacks, something that the nanny suggested since Caelum looked bored out of his mind, staring into the high ceiling of the living room while lying on the long couch. Only half an hour passed since Levi stormed into his office, demanding Eld to contact ‘that hysterical fucking woman’, and only two batches of apple turnovers were ready for the oven. There were a lot of workers on the plantation, all of them having big appetites, so Caelum and Petra had a lot of work to do.

Caelum just finished his story of meeting Altair for the first time and his shoulders felt so light after spilling everything out.

Petra pensively gave Caelum a wistful glance. “I’m happy that you two found each other.”

The boy looked up at the redhead. An air of earnest gratitude exuded from her, the idea of two twins reuniting was worth being happy about. Petra wasn’t the only one thanking the moon and stars for granting a request, Caelum felt like his world expanded because of that summer camp. “I am happy, too. I got to meet you, Mikasa, and the workers. I want this stay to last longer than a day but Al and I will eventually go back to our rightful homes.”

“Why are you being sad, kiddo? Didn’t Levi tell you that he’s planning on courting your mom again?”

“That’s the thing,” Caelum mumbled. The dough became too thin to wrap around apple fillings at the force he was pressing down on the rolling pin. He sighed, starting over again. “Mum is engaged to someone in London. I can’t even do anything about it.”

Petra hummed casually. “But Altair can.” Beside her, Caelum once again shifted his attention from the dough to her side profile, making her smile. “One thing I know about Al through the years is that he will do everything to make his plan a success. That brother of yours is a stubborn kid but he’s determined to fulfill his goal, which so happens to be what Levi’s planning, too.” She placed the knife on the cutting board, leaving the apples unattended, and faced Caelum with a half-smile. “How about this, you want to make this a success?”

Caelum nodded.

“Then tell your dad who you really are.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “No!” He looked down, cursing himself for raising his voice at Petra. “I mean, he’ll be mad for sure.”

The redhead chuckled before pointing a ladle at Caelum. “That’s where you’re wrong. Levi was always praying every night to have a glimpse of his other son across the sea. Now that you’re here, you’ll be giving him the happiness he always wanted for eleven years. He deserves to hug you, knowing who you are.”

This is how Caelum found himself standing in front of Levi’s bedroom. It was inevitable anyway — his dad finding out his real identity. Letting out a sigh, Caelum twisted the doorknob with clammy hands, opening the door to the image of Levi reading a book on his bed. The boy smiled when Levi looked up at the sound of the door opening.

Levi took off his reading glasses and smiled. “Hey, kiddo, come in.” He lifted his covers as an invitation for the tentative boy. When Caelum got on the bed, Levi placed his book on the nightstand along with his glasses. For a moment, he only looked at his son with soft eyes as Caelum adjusted the duvet to cover his lap. He pulled him close with an arm around the boy’s shoulders, letting Caelum relax against him. “Did you have a nightmare?” Levi felt his son shake his head. “Is something bothering you?” At the silence, Levi looked down on Caelum's onyx hair. He kissed the side of the boy’s head. “I hope you will feel better once we spend the rest of the day tomorrow.”

“I can’t, Dad, I’m sorry.” It was a low murmur that Levi had to crane his head to hear. “I have to go somewhere tomorrow.”

“And where will this somewhere be? Is Mikasa going with you? Or did Petra invite you to go get the groceries?”

The silver-eyed boy squirmed out of Levi’s hold, burying himself in the think blankets.

“Al? Are you feeling unwell? Kiddo?” Levi tried tickling his son’s sides but was only met with muffled laughs. “Al.”

A British accent enveloped the words Caelum uttered next, “That’s where I’m going! I have to go see Altair.”

“And where might Altair be?”

A pause. “In London.” Levi froze. “With his mum, [Name] [Last Name].”

It was as if cold water surrounded Levi, dunking him in a fever dream. It was too good to be true. Of all the surprises he received for the day, this is by far the most responsible for taking away his voice and steady breathing. He couldn’t think properly at the revelation. So this was the reason why Petra looked like she saw the boy for the first time because she did, after eleven years. His heartbeat echoed through his chest, making a duet with his clattering mind. Levi didn’t know what to do. Should he embrace the son he never got to hug in almost twelve years or should he stay quiet and let the night go on, pretending that this was a dream? His eyes started to burn with unshed tears as he carefully lifted the edge of the duvet off the small figure lying beside him. There was no way this was happening. But as he finally got a glimpse of his son staring up at him, eye shape boring some similarities to yours, Levi let out a shaky breath.

“Caelum?”

Caelum sat up. “Yes, Dad?”

Levi’s vision became blurry, arms instantly wrapping around Caelum. He hugged him tightly, worried that this might be a trick of his loneliness, that this was Altair pretending to be his twin to make him happy. But no. He knew Altair like the back of his hand and if he hugged him like this, the little brat would whine at the long physical contact. This was Caelum, hands gentle like yours as they patted his back. He didn’t know he was crying until Caelum rubbed rhythmic circles on his back to calm him down.

“Al and I met at camp and we decided to switch places.” His breath hitched, nuzzling his head on Levi’s chest. “Dad, I’ve dreamt my whole life of finally meeting you. Seeing you waiting at the airport nearly made me cry because you were exactly like Mum’s vague stories. And Al wanted to meet Mum as well so we sort of made the switch impulsively.”

Levi pulled away, a smile present on his face. “Who exactly made this plan?”

“Never in my life would I suggest switching places with my twin. I told Al this is an idiotic plan yet here we are.”

Levi snorted a laugh. “Of course it’s Al’s idea.”

“But Dad …”

“Hmm?” The man waited patiently for his little heaven to speak up.

“I hope you’re not raging at the moment because I love you so much and I just hope that one day, you will love me as me — not as a mirror image of Al.”

Levi pulled Caelum again in a hug, kissing the boy on the crown of his head. “Did you know I was the one who named you?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Since your mom named Altair after a star, I thought it would be best if you were named after the realm the star is situated. You’re my little heaven, Cae, and nothing can change that. I’ve loved you your whole life. Stop being a mopey little brat — I meant that term in the most endearing way possible because your mother was the original one, she was my pain in the ass — and give your dad another hug.”

Caelum felt like he forgot something, choosing this moment to never mention you being engaged to someone and instead chose to let his dad’s warm hugs lull him to sleep.

taglist:

@loveprisms @halparkebitch @omlbarnes @a--nonymousse @nunufx @misslovingpearl @megumiisee @whalerus

just give me an ask if you want to be added to the taglist !!

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #rorywrites #modern au #the parent trap #shingeki no kyojin #dad!levi

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Masterlist

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR BESTIES! Thanks as always to @acollectionofficsandshit I think I broke her with this chapter! She also found  the song for this chapter so special thanks for that as well ❤

Word Count: 7.6k

Recommended song: “The Man Who Can’t be Moved” by the Script

The steam of the shower cleanses your senses and washes away the sweat from your workout. Crisp September air rushes through the open window and raises goosebumps on your skin as you step out. You turn off the tap and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel in an attempt to ward off the chill. A glance at the clock tells you that you have a half hour to get ready before your date picks you up.

Peter was one of the few guys in your major that paid you any attention. Most of them tolerated you at best but it had never bothered you. You were independent enough that you could make it through class on your own and google what you didn’t understand afterward and learn it before the exam.

It had been fairly easy to fall in with Peter and a few others during the first few weeks of summer classes. What began with group study sessions and quickly developed into hanging out one on one with Peter on the weekends to go to coffee shops or play video games.

When Peter had asked you out two months ago, Pierre's voice nagged in the back of your head. He asked if you were ready to move on from him and if you could really forget him.

The simple answer was no, forgetting him was impossible. No matter how many years passed, he would always own a part of you. 

Peter was sweet and he cared about you but you were quickly realizing the bond you shared with him didn't run as deep as it had with Pierre. He started as your friend and you really didn't feel right letting it develop past that. Although you had agreed to that date and plenty more in the time since, it still didn’t feel like a relationship. You had to stop yourself from imagining someone else's arm around you when you lounged on the sofa or someone else's lips kissing you goodnight.

You slip into a form fitting red cocktail dress and sweep your hair over a shoulder, banishing the memory. The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger, a ghost of who you once were. You pull your lips into a smile nowhere near as bright as it was months ago.

A knock on your apartment door startles you from your trance. Peter holds a bouquet of flowers, a broad grin on his face. He was handsome in a traditional sense, with a sharp jawline and playful forest green eyes that promised a good time. He was adventurous; a night in wasn’t in the cards. Everything was an event with him and you didn’t mind the distractions one bit.

"You look amazing as always," he says, stepping inside and kissing your cheek. You sniff the flowers lightly. Daisies were some of your least favorite flowers but the gesture was too sweet to point that out.

"So do you," you respond, gaze sweeping from his scuffed wingtip shoes to his crisp blue button down shirt. Ocean blue, washed out against Peter's pale skin, but would have looked perfect on Pierre's golden complexion.

You had to stop thinking about him. You saw him everywhere. On more than one occasion, you dropped out of a conversation when you caught a glimpse of blond hair bobbing through a crowd or heard a laugh startlingly similar to his. You couldn’t escape the idea of him whether you liked it or not.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, touching your elbow.

God, you were so far from okay. Your mind was a melted mess of memories of a blond Frenchman and all the broken promises between the pair of you. This was pointless. You were wasting your time with Peter. He was great and should have been everything you wanted but he just wasn't enough.

"I'm so sorry," you start, handing back the flowers. "I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh thank god," he says, shoulders drooping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking the same thing, I just didn't want to be the one to say it." You both laugh, the tension ebbing from your frame.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "You're amazing. There's just no…"

"Spark," you finish. "Yeah, I agree. Friends?"

You stick out your hand and he shakes it firmly. "Sounds like a plan. No hard feelings. See you in class on Monday?"

"I'll be there."

You slip out of your heels with a sigh, glad you don't have to endure that form of torture any longer. For the first time in months, you allow yourself to scroll through Pierre's Instagram.

Instead of being flooded with personal pictures it had become mostly posed shoots.it was the kind of thing that seemed staged, like he was only posted because his PR team deemed it necessary.

As time went on the content became more and more clinical. He was giving fans less of an insight into his personal life and focusing on racing content. You knew he had probably thrown everything he had into the season in an attempt to move on and you couldn't blame him. 

If his Insta was to be believed, he had earned a handful of podiums in the four months since you had mostly lost interest in the sport. After Austin it had been nearly impossible to watch a full race and you had instead been getting your biased updates from Max, who conveniently left out all but the barest details of anyone’s race weekend but his own.

There was no point in trying to convince yourself you no longer felt anything for Pierre. Just scrolling through his page reignites the flame in your chest that had been burning far too dimly for far too long. 

Heart pounding, you double tap a photoset of him modeling for Alpha Tauri, the lighting accenting his eyes. Their distinct, rich blue had always been your weakness. 

Your fingers find their way to the charm at your throat. You hadn't taken it off once since the gala. It was pointless to deny the sway he still held over you all these months later. Maybe it was time you stopped pretending you were fine and finally give in to the pull. 

The past few months have given you plenty of time to reflect. The media would hound you like dogs but at least while you were in London they would leave your family alone. And really, enduring their scrutiny was a small price to pay if it meant loving Pierre.  

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble, pulling up his contact in your phone. Breaking up with him had been the dumbest decision of your life. You’d watched him from afar as he traveled from grand prix to grand prix, touring cities and sleeping everywhere except where he belonged: curled up next to you in your tiny London flat, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Fuck what anyone would say. Nothing could be worse than knowing your soulmate was out there and you let him go.

Heart pounding, you type out a text. I miss you.

Shaking your head, you erase it. How are you? Seemed more appropriate.

"Here goes nothing," you murmur and hit send.

**********

 It started off as any other free Sunday did: Charles and Charlotte arriving at his apartment carrying snacks and beer which neither of them would tell their trainers about tomorrow and plopping in front of the television to watch the PSG match.

The trio roared at the screen at poor calls and yelled when a goal was scored, all completely lost in the sport.

Pierre absently registers his phone buzzing during the last few minutes of the match but ignores it. PSG comes out on top and he finally checks it, nearly choking on the pretzels he was eating.

How are you?

Pierre has to read it thrice before he’s convinced it’s real. 

"Holy fuck," he says softly, tipping the phone so Charles can see. 

"Told you mate." He takes Charlotte's hand and stands. Football match completely forgotten, Pierre lifts a hand in a wave as the couple leaves. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he tries to comprehend the gravity your words carry.

After months of waiting in agony and wondering if you still cared, you’d texted him.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet on the floor. He was completely weightless, reading your message over and over again until it sinks in.

He takes the three simple words as permission to finally delve back into your life, immediately scrolling through your instagram to catch up. He double taps every post save for the ones with you and some tall, handsome guy. His stomach twists. 

Fuck it. Even if you just wanted to catch up, he'd take it. If you told him you were with someone else and you were happy, he'd learn to live with it. He was starved of you and was prepared to beg for crumbs of your life.

I'm fine. You have time for a phone call?

It was a leap but he acknowledged and accepted the risks.

Yeah. That would be good.

You pick up on the second ring.

"Hey."

Pierre squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the lump in his throat. Years of memories rush over him in the space of a breath. The shock in your voice when you found out he was a driver for the first time. Your smile and breathless laugh when you met him in the garage in Brazil after his first podium in Formula 1. The tentative glances he had thrown your way for months after he finally accepted that he had begun to fall for you. The way your velvet lips felt when he made a gamble and kissed you for the first time. The drunken lilt of your voice when you told him you loved him that night in London.

Before he can stop it the bad comes rushing back too. The memory of the terror on your face when he let it slip that you were together sends a chill through him. If there was one moment he could change, it wouldn’t be the time he fucked up and lost his seat at Red Bull. It would be to keep his damned mouth shut at that karting track and preserve the bliss of that day and tuck it away in a bulletproof case that he could pull out and look at whenever he wanted.

"Hey you," he manages, silently thanking whoever is listening that he keeps the tremble out of his voice. "Been awhile."

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he says quickly. "You never need to apologize to me."

You were the last one that needed to apologize for anything. He should be the one beginning for forgiveness. It was his fault you’d panicked. He should have fought harder for you, proved that he could make it work and save you both from months of heartache. But then again, maybe you had moved on. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him forever.

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you clear your throat. For the first time he can recall, the silence is thick and heavy with unspoken words. It had always been effortless, the stories and words flowing like a babbling brook between the two of you. Now the confessions on his tongue remain poised there, too terrified to give them the light of day. 

"How's your season been?" He’s thankful you break the quiet first but the question makes his stomach sink. 

"You haven't been watching?"

"Not really."

"Oh." It made sense that you would distance yourself from him and that was fine, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. "It's been decent. Red Bull wants me to come to Milton for contract discussions this week, actually."

"You're moving back up?"

"Potentially." Horner had only called him earlier that week to discuss the potential of him returning to Red Bull next year. The informal agreement was that if he could make seventh in the championship in a midfield car, they would bump him back for the following season. 

It wasn’t a concrete guarantee- that’s why Horner wanted to speak with him in person. He had a year left in his contract and being in a Red Bull meant he would be able to prove his worth to other teams and potentially secure a world championship worthy seat at a team that actually appreciated his talent.

He draws a breath before continuing, "I'll be in London on Monday. You know- if you wanna get together."

You stay silent for a touch too long and he panics. It was too soon. He should have kept his mouth shut because now he’d driven you away again. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-"

"No," you interrupt, "no, I'd love to see you and catch up. I don't have classes on Tuesdays. Have any free time then?"

His eyes slide shut and he exhales. The flack he would undoubtedly catch for shuffling around a few interviews would be worth it to see you. "Yeah. I can swing by your apartment around seven?"

"Okay," you say, a touch of excitement lacing your voice. "I'll make myself presentable."

"I-" he stops himself before the words can slip past his lips. "I'll see you then."

*********

Pierre blows out a breath and adjusts his backpack. He stands at the threshold of your building, keys in hand, unsure if he should let himself in. The dilemma had kept him rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes now, weighing the pros and cons of his options. 

“Hey you, blond fucker.” Pierre whips around and is met by Daniel’s girlfriend glaring up at him from the sidewalk. She tips her head to the side to study him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had to cancel plans to be here tonight. “You gonna grow a pair and go up there or just keep staring at the door all day?”

“I’m going,” he grumbles, “are you?”

“Oh, I was going to but clearly whatever you have planned is more important.” Her grin splits her face ear to ear. “About damn time she got ahold of you. I was getting sick of listening to her gripe about you twenty four seven.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was coming by? If you guys have plans I can come back later.”

She waves a hand and dismisses the offer. “Absolutely not. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not-” The glare she cuts him snatches the words from his mouth. She makes a shooing motion before setting off down the sidewalk, munching on whatever snacks were in her shopping bag.

Pierre shakes out his hands and tries to gather the courage to use his key. The hopeless romantic argued that you would expect him to use it because you would know he still had it. The rational side of him butts in to point out that it might catch you off guard if he showed up without warning. He settles on buzzing your unit, your answer fuzzy from the distortion.

"Pierre?"

Even with the warbly static in your voice, his name on your lips is the salvation he’s been dreaming about for months. "Yeah it's me."

"Don't you have a key?"

"I wasn't sure if I should use it."

You don't answer, instead letting the buzz of the electronic lock do the talking. He takes the stairs three at a time, barely winded by the time he reaches the third floor. He doesn't even have to knock, your door swinging open as he steps up. The sight of you knocks the breath from his lungs. 

It didn't matter that you were in a simple hoodie and jeans, feet bare and hair swept back in a low bun. You are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and after months apart he nearly falls to his knees then and there to beg for your forgiveness, to get lost in you until two souls became one and he never had to live another second apart from you.

"Are you gonna stand there or do you wanna come in?"

God, he had missed your teasing jabs. His fingers ache for contact with your soft skin and he curls them into a fist to resist the urge. “Coming in,” he says softly, purposefully brushing your arm as he skirts past you. Every inch of him sings from the barely there touch, his soul aching for more.

Just stepping foot into your quaint flat has the weight he had been carrying on his chest for months beginning to ease up. Nothing beat the elation of being back where he belonged, not even spraying champagne from the top step on a podium.

Determined not to scare you off before he could have a proper conversation with you, Pierre opts for falling into the same humor you had used earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Is that takeout I smell?" 

You nod, your cheeks turning a pale pink. “I got you two orders of beef lo mein. I figured you might be hungry.”

As if summoned, his stomach growls. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

“Figures,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush carpet and pull a takeout box towards you. "I got it from that place across town, the one you liked best." Pierre perches on the edge of the sofa and snags the plastic tray with his name on it, eyes never leaving yours.

Now that you were mere feet from him he found it increasingly difficult to deny himself the relief of kissing you here and now. He wanted to trace his thumb over your lips before replacing it with his own, to slot his mouth over yours until time was nothing and he was no one other than yours.

You clear your throat and drop his gaze first, sending him crashing back to reality. “So, ninth huh? Glad to see you cracked the top ten.”

Pierre scrunches his nose and spears a piece of broccoli. He was shit with chopsticks but you always got a kick out of him fumbling with them. “Not where I’d like to be but I’ll take it. Horner took notice obviously, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I think an invitation to Milton Keynes is enough reason to hope," you say around a mouthful of sticky rice.

This interaction was reason to hope. The fact that you were once again on speaking terms, that things were finally returning to some semblance of normal, was enough for him to believe that one day everything would be back to how it was before. That maybe, just maybe, he could hold you in his arms again and fall asleep to the soundtrack of your heart beating in his ear. 

Remembering the guy from your instagram, he scans the room for any sign of a male companion. Finding none, he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?”

It probably would have been a good idea to go about this particular line of questioning with a bit more tact. Inquiring so blatantly betrayed his inner thoughts, laid all his cards on the table. He didn't have it in him to care, not when his world might be turned upside down by your answer.

“Oh, you mean Peter?” You sip your water, seemingly working up the courage to explain. Each moment that the silence dragged on it became more of a physical monster. Pierre could feel it growing until it threatened to sink his claws in him and drag him deeper into the pits of his insecurity.

“If that’s his name, yeah.” Pierre braces himself for whatever comes next, reminding himself to be happy for you no matter what you choose. It would take time but he could put aside what he still felt for you and learn to accept your choice if it meant staying in your life.

You shake your head. “He’s a friend from uni. He’s not my boyfriend. At least not anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, frowning down at his food to cover the way his heart skips. “But he was?”

He had expected you to move on, if he was being honest. No way in hell did you deserve to be as miserable as he had been since you'd left- you deserved all the happiness he couldn't seem to give you and more. And if someone else had been the one to grant you that happiness, he should thank them. 

“For a little while,” you say softly, like it would cushion the blow. “It didn’t feel right.”

He was familiar with that feeling. Nothing he did felt right after the break up. Just about the only thing that kept him sane was telling himself that you’d come to your senses sooner or later.

And now that he was here, his world was beginning to right itself.

“Earth to Pierre,” you say teasingly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I just- I’ve missed this,” he says, picking at his food.

“What, eating subpar takeout in my tiny apartment?” You laugh and stuff another bite in your mouth. God, you could be so oblivious. It was one of the many things he adored about you. 

“I do. I miss doing anything that involves you, actually.”

There it was. His heart laid bare before you for the second time, waiting to see how you would respond. You set down your chopsticks and wipe your lips. His eyes track their movement as you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.”

Four syllables and he melts. It takes all he has to keep himself from sobbing with relief. It was everything he had come here hoping to hear. He couldn’t endure this again, couldn’t lose you for a second time-

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he pleads, body thrumming with the need to wrap you in his arms. “Don’t put me through this again unless you’re here to stay.”

He wasn't strong enough to tell you to stop. He would let you wreck him and he would be completely powerless to stop it. He would welcome it if it meant you granting him a sliver of your time. It would ruin him for anyone else but he didn’t have it in him to turn you away.

You rise to your feet and pad around the low table until you’re standing knee to knee, his neck craned up to study your face. You just keep looking at him, the leash on his carefully controlled restraint slipping as he rambles, “Because I can’t take it if you leave me again, I won’t-”

You simply nod, as if that’s all the answer he should need. But it’s not enough. “Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me you mean it.”

He didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that you had reduced his normally impenetrably stoic mentality to a jumble of you. If he was being honest with himself, you were the light of his life, the reason he pushed so hard for results on track. Everything had gone black and white when you left and racing had been the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams. The need to make you proud still propelled him forward even if he'd had no idea if you still cared.

So no, he didn’t care at all that he was practically on his knees. He would grovel at your feet for his entire life if it meant you’d grant him one more day to be with you.

“I mean it,” you murmur and place a hand on his cheek. He draws a shaky breath, leaning into you. Home, home, home, his head screams, acutely aware of every square inch of contact between the two of you.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and I’ve finally come to terms with it- your lifestyle. If I love you, I have to accept it being public. I have to build myself a shelter to withstand the storm, but I’ll make it big enough for two.”

It takes everything in him to keep from crushing you to his chest and never letting go. He had to ask, had to be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was forever. “Promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. Promise me we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together.”

“I promise. I’m not afraid anymore,” you murmur. Pierre’s head falls forward to rest on your hip bone, your fingers threading in his hair. “Daniel’s girlfriend helped me see that it doesn’t matter what anyone says. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven't been the same since I…”

“Neither have I.” His thumb winds under your shirt to sweep over your soft skin. “You’re safe with me, you know that right? I can protect you from whatever they say and you’re right, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this-” he finally lets himself look up at you- “what we have. I’ve never stopped loving you, not once.”

Your smile is soft and tentative as you climb into his lap. His hands slide up your sides to pull you closer, refusing to let an inch separate you now that you’d bridged the gap. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I learned my lesson.”

You lean down to ghost your lips over his brow, his closed eyelids, his nose. He can feel himself reconstructing under your touch, that final piece of the puzzle clicking home after being lost for so long. “I promise that I’m yours until the last star falls from the sky.”

He had lost four months of time with you. He wouldn't allow another second to slip through his fingers. 

Anticipating his movements, you meet him halfway. Fireworks explode as his lips finally return home and his world is finally, finally righted. Your nails scratch lightly at the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as your body moulds against his. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly your curves fit against him after all this time. He was determined to memorize every mountain and valley of you by the night's end.

His hands grip your thighs and he stands. Your arms automatically wind around his neck to keep from falling. He carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the edge of the island, never breaking the kiss. Nothing mattered outside of this apartment; not his career, not any baseless gossip, nothing existed beyond the space where your skin met his.

Pierre pulls back long enough to remove his shirt. Your fingers dance over his skin, relearning the planes of his chest like you had all the time in the world. And you did; he would stay here as long as you let him, reveling in the way you drank up every inch of his body like it was the first time you’d seen it.

“I love you,” you say as he kisses along your jaw.

How many times had he dreamt of you whispering that to him the past four months? How many times had it echoed in his head before a race, taunting him? He could scarcely believe his mind wasn’t playing more tricks on him now. He had to be certain it was real.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Please. Please, tell me again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I love you Pierre, my champion, my heart, my everything.”

Pierre groans against your mouth, knotting his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back to expose your throat. He nips at the soft skin, not caring that he was leaving a trail of tiny marks in his wake. His focus was entirely on the gasps he was dragging from you with each touch, your heels digging into his ass and begging for him to be closer.

"My sweet, kindhearted man," you continue breathlessly. He didn't know if the words were for your benefit or his. "My best friend. My one and only love."

In that moment, you could ask him to bring you a star from the midnight sky and he wouldn't stop until he found a way to make it happen. You could ask for his last dollar and he would hand it to you with a smile on his face, completely enthralled with the way his name sounds on your tongue, professing that you still wanted him as much as he wanted you.

You were his undoing.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at your sweatshirt. You obey instantly and fling it aside, neither of you caring when dishes clatter to the tile floor and undoubtedly break. Your jeans follow suit after he helps you slip out of them. He runs his fingers over the delicate black lace of your bra and panties and pauses to appreciate that you knew exactly where the night would lead.

His cock twitches as you reach between your bodies to run a knuckle over his clothed length. “Your turn.” You undo the button with practiced ease, taking your sweet time as his breath comes in ragged gasps. He’d had a taste of you and hadn’t forgotten how you’d felt around him. He needed you more than he needed the air he breathed, his desperation taking over as he swats your hand aside and strips off his jeans and boxers himself.

He drops to his knees and grips your thighs, pulling you forward until your center is inches from his face. The yelp that escapes you is intoxicating, your hands flying back to catch yourself. His teeth sink none too gently into the flesh of your thigh and he’s rewarded with a moan before he flicks his tongue over the hurt.

Your head falls back and Pierre places one of your legs over his shoulder. “Mon amour,” he purrs, garnering your attention. Your head lolls forward and he waits until you meet his gaze to speak again. “You know I love you, right?”

“I never doubted it,” you confirm, lips curling in a smile. “But why don’t you prove it to me again?”

He pulls your panties aside and blows lightly. You groan, thighs tensing under his fingers as your toes curl and he chuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to tease me?”

“What I want,” he says sharply, “is to have you moaning my name until it's the only word you know.” His tongue flicks out to dance over your thigh, dangerously close to where he knows you want him. “What I want is to make up for lost time.” He rips through the thin lace of your panties and lets the ruined scraps fall to the floor.

“Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

He would buy you an entire lingerie store if he could rip every set of it off you. He didn’t care how much it costed, it was never too much when it came to you.

“What I want most, my love,” he murmurs, smiling when his hot breath curls over your dripping cunt and you squirm, “is to forget everything else and stay here forever.”

You cry out when his tongue finally flicks through your folds. Pierre hums approvingly at your reaction, one arm snaking up to pin your hips in place. He sucks lightly at your clit and your fingers tangle in his hair.

“P-Pierre,” you breathe. He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, the wickedness of it dragging the moan from your lips that he was after. He was drunk on the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“There’s my good girl.” He runs his tongue flat over your sex, savoring the taste as you squirm under him. You let out a choked noise when he repeats the motion before fucking you with his tongue, his nose hitting your clit with each stroke.

He doesn’t miss the way your lip wobbles and Pierre knows you’re ready to cry with frustration. He decides he’s tortured you enough for now and relents, putting two fingers in his mouth to wet them before plunging them inside you.

His mouth is spelling his name on your clit a moment later, your walls already clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm nears. In the handful of times he’d taken you to bed, he had already learned that when your head rolls back like that and your breathing stops, you’re seconds away from climaxing. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking beneath him, finally slowing to work you through your orgasm without making you hypersensitive.

“Baby,” you groan breathlessly. Pierre slowly withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his thigh before pressing a final, tender kiss to your center that makes you jump.

“Use my name,” he demands, uncoiling to his full height. He grips your wrist and hauls your boneless body up, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Pierre,” you murmur and he grinds his hips against you in approval. He captures your mouth with his, taking advantage of your hazy mind to lazily explore it. 

You hum into the kiss, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Suddenly the column of your neck is all he can think about and he wraps a hand around it, squeezing with enough force that you pull back with a gasp.

“Too much?” He murmurs, lessening his grip. Your brows knit together and your lower lips juts out, begging for him to take it between his teeth. He leans in and gives in to the impulse as he swipes his thumb under your jaw.

“Tell me if you want my hand on your throat, my love. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you say finally. Your eyes are cloudy when they meet his. “Keep it there.”

He shows his approval in the form of a light squeeze. You angle your hips up, nudging his cock with your center. You reach a hand down to wrap around his shaft and drag the head through your folds, teasing him as he had done to you. The grip on your throat tightens to a point bordering blissfully between pain and pleasure, both a warning and an order to continue. 

If you knew how close he was to flipping you on your stomach and slamming into you, you’d call him crazy. Or maybe you’d like it, judging by the way your head falls back as he rocks his hips and inches into you.

You both moan when he decides the time for restraint has passed and he slams into you. You lift your hips to meet his with every thrust, clearly missing this just as much as he had. God, he’d lost months of fucking you, of feeling you clench around him and writhe beneath him. If he could stay like this forever he would, his hand around your neck and cock splitting you open as he laps up your moans like sweet candy.

“I’m- Pierre,” you squeak out, and he knows you’re barreling towards your second orgasm of the night. He pulls you up by your neck until you’re eye to eye and forced to look at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers, slamming into you again and again. “Come on my cock mon amour and I might just cum inside you.”

His words are your undoing, pleasure rippling from you in waves as your mouth falls open in a silent plea. He grants you no clemency as your cunt twitches around him, instead following through on his promise and following your lead.

You pants mix with his own as he struggles to keep both of you upright, his knees turned to jelly. Your head rests on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your temple, slowly pulling out of you. A pitiful whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

“I know,” Pierre murmurs, reaching over to start the kitchen sink. He wets a clean cloth and runs it between your legs, still supporting you as he doesn’t trust that your legs won't give out if he doesn’t. When it’s clear you can barely form a coherent thought, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to your room. He nudges the bathroom door open with his hip and sets you on the vanity.

The absence of his body heat makes you shiver when he goes to turn on the shower, adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature. He gathers you in his arms and steps into the tub, your sigh audible as the warm water hits your skin.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs before kissing your temple. You nod against his chest and he sets you down, keeping his hands on your waist just in case. You’re thankful for it when your knees wobble, a hand flying out to steady yourself.

“I’m okay,” you say after a beat and grin up at him. “I can stand, promise.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking my hands off you,” he says, grinning right back. “At least not for long.” He reaches over your shoulder for the shampoo and gestures for you to turn around. You obey, tipping your head back to wet your hair. A blissful sigh escapes you when his fingers meet your scalp, the cherry blossom scent blooming in the air as he works it into a lather.

Taking care of you was just as satisfying as the sex was. He cherished the intimacy of taking this small burden from your shoulders. The seemingly simple task was one of deep seated trust and it proved to him that your love ran bone deep. There was a level of trust in you letting him wash you that he didn't want to have with anyone else. It was reserved for you and you alone.

“Close your eyes,” he warns before guiding your head back under the water for a rinse. He cups a hand to your forehead to keep the soap from your eyes. Your smile is soft but unrestrained as you lean further into him until your back is pressed to his chest.

You both stay silent as he runs the creamy conditioner through the ends of your hair. His hand cups your jaw and tips your head back for a lazy kiss before he rinses that too and cuts the tap.

Once you're wrapped in a fuzzy white towel he finally dries himself off, fighting off a chill. He doesn't realize you're watching him until he turns around and notices you standing in the doorway.

"What?"

You push off the wall and pad back to where he stands to wrap your arms around his middle. His thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, perfectly content to stand there dripping on the tile until morning. 

When it's clear you're lost in thought he speaks up. "What's on your mind?"

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Like the exact moment?" He asks, caught off guard. You nod against his chest.

"When you visited me in Milan last summer," he says a few heartbeats later. That night insisted on making guacamole at two in the morning and woke me up because you couldn't find a lime. You told me you couldn't sleep because it was all you could think about after you saw that couple at the cafe eating it."

"Why then?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a lime but I was fully prepared to knock on every door in the building to find you one. Because in that moment all that mattered was seeing your face light up when I handed it to you and knowing that it was me that made you smile like that. I knew then that I’d do anything for you."

It still amazed him how a lime of all things was the tipping point. In that moment, a lime was important to you and it so naturally became important to him. If anyone else had woken him from his deep sleep he would have grumbled and told them off. But you, seeing your face inches from his, the light from the hall casting a warm halo around your frame as you whispered his name, he hadn’t cared at all.

"But then I found the juice in the fridge," you recall and glance up at him.

"Yeah, you did. And you felt so bad for waking me up- you had no idea that I had already fallen so hard that I had to keep myself from shutting you up with a kiss.”

The easy admission seems to stir something in you and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “I knew that time you sent food to my dorm at midnight when I was pulling an all nighter. I was studying for my calculus final, remember?”

Pierre nods. “I was in Barcelona. You weren’t answering your phone so I sent a message with the takeout guy.” He had been wholly enamored with you at that point, having quickly learned that trying to keep his feelings buried deep was an option that would never work. So he leaned into it, letting little bits of it shine through in hopes that you might pick up on it.

Your laugh rumbles through him. “It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too nervous.”

“Took us long enough to figure it out didn’t it?” He untangles himself from you and leads you to bed.

“I’m just glad we did eventually.” You let him guide you to the mattress while he stays standing and goes to your closet. He hunts for the shirt he wants to see you in, praying you hadn’t gotten rid of it. He finally finds it tucked back in the corner and pulls it out, the cobalt blue fabric a little faded from how often you’d worn it over the years.

“I remember that,” you say softly as he returns with it and slips it over your head. 

It was the first shirt he had ever gotten upon entering Formula 1 and somehow you had wound up snagging it from his closet while he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during that same trip to Milan. He had choked on his guac when you reappeared wearing it, eyes lingering on the Torro Rosso logo on the chest and his name splayed across your back like a claiming.

"I don't have sweatpants for you anymore," you point out with an apologetic wince. "I got rid of them."

Pierre just shrugs and hands you the shirt. "I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I was planning on working out to blow off some steam if…"

He trails off and you nod in silent acknowledgement. He didn’t have to voice the thought, you were already in his head and knew exactly what he meant. Unable to help himself, he kisses your head just because he can before retrieving his bag from the kitchen. "I have something for you," he says and lets the towel around his waist drop.

You let out a low whistle and grin at him as your eyes slide over every inch of his body. He takes more time than necessary to pull out his shorts, appreciating your gaze. You're still watching him as he slips them on and brings his bag to you.

"Do you wanna see what I got you or are you gonna stare at me all night?"

"I think I'll stare."

Pierre rolls his eyes and chuckles, plopping down next to you. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

You do as he asks but not before cocking a brow at him. Knowing the sound of the package will give it away, he does his best to draw out the first item as quietly as he can. The second he sets it in your hands a smile splits your face. He'd tear down the energy station with his bare hands to keep that expression on your face.

"It's candy." Your eyes open and you gasp. "Laffy taffy? But you can only get this-"

"In the states," He finishes. “I got as much as the store had.” The chewy, fruity candy was your absolute favorite and every once in a while you craved it. His backpack was currently stuffed full of it and various other packages of sweets, having been collected at every gp he had been to since Austin.

You tear into the package and dig for a pink one. You hold it out to him triumphantly and somehow, it’s that simple gesture that makes him melt. “You like the strawberry ones don’t you?”

“Yes baby, I do.” He lets you pop the sweet in his mouth - Pyry would certainly not approve- and grins at you. “If you eat too many before bed you won’t be able to sleep.”

“It’s still early,” you point out but don’t hesitate to set the sweets aside and cuddle up to him when he lays back. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I have to be at Milton by eight,” he says, wrapping an arm around your middle. “But you’re coming with me.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo​ 

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #my writing #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf

[beauregardlionett]

i think i might understand the concept of home

AO3 Link

Yasha’s car had broken down on the side of the road in some tiny town she only meant to pass through. She hadn’t even read the welcome sign half-a-mile back, so gods knew where she was. Thankfully, there was a shoulder and a sidewalk, so she wasn’t stuck in the middle of traffic. She had the hood popped and stared helplessly down at the tangle of mechanics she did not understand.

Nothing was smoking, so she figured that must be a good thing.

“Need a hand?”

Yasha glanced up, catching sight of a woman standing just outside the coffee shop Yasha broke down in front of. She stood defined in the sunlight, composed of sharp lines and lean muscle, contained by planes of smooth, coffee-colored skin. She had on a simple grey sports bra under denim overalls littered with stains and distressed patches torn in random places on the legs. Her hair was in a low bun sat over what looked like an undercut all tucked messily beneath a backward cap.

Damn...she was hot.

The woman cocked an expectant eyebrow, reminding Yasha she had yet to answer.

“Oh, um...yes?”

Hot Lady smirked and stepped off the curb to stand at Yasha’s shoulder, leaning over the open hood and inspecting the mess. Yasha was busy inspecting the tanned slope of neck to bare shoulder, all of her quite a sight in the midday sunlight.

Gods, was that a tattoo on her back?

With abrupt yet easy precision, Hot Lady hauled herself up onto the lip of Yasha’s truck and shoved her hand between various pieces of metal. Startled, Yasha looked down at the engine, hoping she wouldn’t have to call emergency services for a hand lost in her car engine.

“The alternator might be shot,” Hot Lady said, squinting as she moved her hand around a little.

“What does that mean?” Yasha managed, only a little strangled.

“Means you need to get your car into a shop because you aren’t going to have much luck getting far without it.” Hot Lady removed her hand and gave a little hop back down to the pavement. She wiped her hand carelessly on her overalls and shrugged a little.

“It’s not a super challenging thing to fix, but it will take a minute. I can point you to a good garage if you need.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you...um...”

“Beauregard,” the woman said, sticking out her hand with a grin. “Call me Beau.”

After hesitating a moment, Yasha grasped Beau’s hand and gave it a tentative shake, cheeks warm. Her face flushed even warmer when Beau raised her eyebrow again, clearly waiting for Yasha’s name.

“Yasha,” she blurted, horrid awkwardness muddying her chest. “I’m Yasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yasha,” Beau said as she slowly took her hand back. Yasha already like the way her name sounded rolling off of Beau’s tongue - perhaps far too much for someone she just met.

“You might need to shack up somewhere for the night,” Beau said, pulling her phone from her pocket and texting someone. “Depending on how long the garage takes with your car. I haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You got a place to stay?”

“Oh...no,” Yasha managed. “I’m just passing through.”

“Well, I texted my buddy over at the garage to come get your car. He’ll be here soon. There’s only one hotel in this town, and to be honest, it sucks. My buddy Caleb moved most of his stuff out of his apartment, but he hasn’t turned the lease over yet. He got a big wig job two hours from here and they had him start early, despite the fact he still had a month on the lease. You can crash there if you want. I’m pretty sure he left his mattress.”

Yasha blinked, dazed and flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken.

“I...what?”

Beau looked up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid texting. She seemed to take in Yasha’s stunned expression and grimaced slightly.

“Sorry, that was a lot all at once.” Beau tucked her phone away and crossed her arms over her chest. Yasha recognized the defensive tactic attempting to look casual with ease. She performed that move often enough herself.

“This ‘helping’ thing isn’t my forte - more Jess’ thing. But uh...yeah. If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one. Promise there're no strings attached or anything like that.”

“But...you don’t know me.”

“True,” Beau shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anything to steal from Caleb’s place. It’s basically an empty apartment he’s not getting anything out of. Might as well put the place to good use.”

“Okay,” Yasha said after a moment of strange quiet. What else was she supposed to say?

Beau blinked up at Yasha, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, a tow truck pulled up. Beau greeted the driver enthusiastically as Yasha watched on, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

--

“This is it,” Beau said, shoving open the door with her hip as she wrestled the key out of the lock.

Yasha followed Beau in, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her meager duffle bag. The apartment was near barren, as Beau had said. It had a small living area that faded seamlessly into a kitchenette. Down a short hallway appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom, both doors open. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The only sign someone had recently been occupying the space was the old mattress just visible through the bedroom door and the sagging sofa in the living room.

“Sorry there’s no food in the kitchen, but there’s a store about a block from here if you’re up for a walk. I’d hang around but I have to get to a class.”

Yasha twisted to look at Beau, something bubbling up in her chest that felt a lot like gratitude and a little like something indescribable. She watched as Beau fiddled with her key ring, only realizing what was happening when Beau pulled a key off and tossed it to Yasha. She just barely managed to catch it and not make a fool of herself.

“That’s the key to the door for ya. And,” Beau pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it out to Yasha. “My number, in case you have questions or you need anything. I’m a night owl and an early riser, so chances are I’ll answer whenever.”

“Thank you,” Yasha warbled after a long moment, clutching the key so hard the grooves of its identity imprinted into her palm. The notches stung like she would never forget their shape. “I mean it. This is...a lot.”

Beau rubbed the back of her neck, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the worn floorboards. “It’s nothin’ really...”

“No,” Yasha insisted. “It’s a lot. Thank you.”

Beau’s gaze met Yasha’s intense stare, her bright blue eyes wide as they took in Yasha’s sincerity. A handful of seconds stretched into eternity before Beau ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah...sure.”

Yasha was getting the impression she wasn’t the only one completely out of her depth in this situation.

“I’ll come around tomorrow with updates...bye.”

Yasha watched her duck out the door, disappearing down the hallway before she shut the door behind Beau and clicked the lock.

--

The garage had Yasha’s car fixed and ready to go after two days. Yasha was still in town three months later.

In all honesty, she’s not sure how it happened.

The night she planned to leave, Beau had swung by and insisted on seeing her off. They ended up at a diner, tucked into a booth, talking like they actually knew each other. Next thing Yasha realized, it was nearing midnight, and they were being asked to wrap up so the diner could close. The chef had called to them from the window, an older looking man with bright pink hair who gave Beau a knowing look and a wink.

Somehow, that unplanned extra night turned into months. Yasha had taken on the lease from the absent Caleb for his apartment. She found a job at the local florist, a job she quietly enjoyed. The gravity of her situation only set in after she bought sheets for the mattress.

She met Jess - real name Jester, or Genevieve, but Yasha couldn’t sure - a bubbly girl with deep blue hair and the sweetest attitude ever. Her fingertips were permanently paint stained, and she left hastily sketched dicks everywhere she went. Yasha also met the tow truck driver from the first day, a guy named Fjord. They were a weird mix of individuals, but somehow they got on just fine. They ate dinner together every Thursday night at the same bar owned by the guy who tended the bar - one of those small town things. His name was Mollymauk - Molly for short and sometimes they instead of he - with inordinately purple hair and makeup to match.

Yasha never really spent a lot of time in her apartment. She didn’t see the point, not when she had access to the florist shop, or the diner, or anywhere else with Jess, Fjord, Molly, or Beau. Especially not when Jess’ apartment she shared with Fjord was so much warmer, much more like a home.

It took three months before Beau stopped mid-sentence of a story and blinked at Yasha over their pancakes in the diner.

“This is probably a stupid question, but did you have somewhere to be?”

Yasha looked up, confused. “Right now? Uh...no? My shift at the shop doesn’t start for another three hours.”

“No, no, I meant like outside this town. You told me you were passing through, before.”

“Oh,” Yasha set down her fork and looked out the window. Her chest felt tight. That afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago - a whole other person ago. “Not really.”

“Do...uhm,” Yasha looked over at Beau to find her pushing her food around her plate awkwardly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

This was difficult for both of them. If Yasha had learned anything in her time here, it was that they both struggled to convey their emotions eloquently. But that Beau tried meant everything to Yasha. The least she could do was meet her halfway.

“I was running, and I didn’t know where or when I would stop. But I guess this place is where I’m meant to be.”

“Why were you running?” Beau stared at her, gaze intense in a way Yasha found endearing. She watched like nothing else in the world could distract her.

“I...I had a wife. And I lost her rather abruptly almost six months ago. I tried to stay for a while, to keep what we had built together, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I ran and hoped that I would find something worth staying for again before I fell off the world.”

Beau stared at Yasha openly over their half-eaten breakfast, eyes wide.

“You stayed here. Does that mean you found something here?”

Yasha looked at Beau, at her messy bun and her undercut that needed a fresh shave. She took in the puddle of syrup, slowly saturating Beau’s pancakes and the half gone pile of bacon. Beau’s cellphone sat face down on the table so her attention stayed on Yasha. She realized the baggy sweater Beau had on was one Yasha had misplaced almost a month ago. Yasha lost her breath at the butterflies that fluttered to life in her stomach.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed, tethered and unhinged all at once.

--

They didn’t talk about it, because of course they didn’t.

But two weeks after their pancake conversation, Beau invited Yasha out for a night on the town. There were only two bars with decent night life here, and Yasha had been to both of them exactly once during her time here. (The daytime trips to Molly’s bar didn’t count, of course. She had only been to their bar for the night life once.)

She met Beau in the middle, and they walked together the rest of the way.

Beau had gotten her undercut shaved tight again, but it was hidden with the way her hair spilled loose and long down her back. She had a cobalt lace crop top on - the one with the built-in bra. The way it showed off the definition of her muscles was doing things to Yasha. The black cigarette pants didn’t help either.

A few drinks and way too many EDM songs later - or maybe only a few? Yasha couldn’t tell them apart - Yasha remained upright from adrenaline alone. Somewhere between the drinks and the beat of the music, Beau pressed up against Yasha, wiry arms winding around Yasha’s neck as they danced. Yasha wasn’t much of a dancer in any regard, but she was just tipsy enough to not care.

Beau’s hips fit comfortably in the space between Yasha’s hands, and Yasha resolutely tried not to follow that train of thought. For no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin a good thing, and there was no way Beau felt the same.

Beau pushed onto her toes, shiny black boots creasing with the motion as her lace top rode up her enticing torso.

“I really want to kiss you,” Beau called over the heavy thrum of the base. Her voice nearly got lost in the din, but Yasha heard her. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t. The weight of her heart dropping into her stomach hit too heavy and real to ignore.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss Beau, too.

Yasha’s t-shirt stuck to random parts of her torso with sweat, a detail she was now hyper-aware of with how little space existed between her and Beau. The press of bodies around them was abruptly unnerving. So much so, Yasha wound an arm around Beau’s shoulders and steered them both free, ducking into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms as Yasha gasped for air.

Beau leaned her back against the wall for support, peering at Yasha with far too much clarity for someone who could barely stand upright.

“Are you okay, Yash?” Her voice was quieter now that they had moved out of the main bar, but the base still pounded like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

With more confidence than Yasha would ever possess in her life, she caged Beau in, a hand on either side of her head against the wall. As Beau stared up at her with unabashed awe, Yasha’s face warmed with flushed embarrassment.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Then do it,” Beau said. It sounded like a dare, but she said it as if she were asking permission.

With a quick swoop into Beau’s space, Yasha pressed her lips to Beau’s with the barest amount of pressure. A feather-light, electric brush of a promise, a question, and an invitation. Yasha moved no closer.

Beau leaned in, and as far as kisses went, it was simple. Neither of them surged toward the other, or grappled for purchase to deepen the embrace. It was an easy press of lips, testing the waters despite the alluring tug of the tide.

Tipsy seconds later, Beau pulled back first with a soft gasp. Yasha’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt like a cheesy teenager when she realized they had closed without her knowledge.

“Do you want to do this?” Beau asked, voice soft and a little wrecked despite the chaste kiss.

Yasha, never one for many words, gave a quick nod and ducked back in. It wasn’t confidence, more like the beginning of a realization.

Beau held onto her, this time hands back around Yasha’s neck and fingers tangled deep in Yasha’s wild hair. Yasha took one hand from the wall to cup the back of Beau’s head, fingers sliding easily over the short hairs of Beau’s undercut.

It wasn’t a fireball kiss, but it tasted like the whiskey shots they had done half an hour ago. Beau’s lips were soft and a stark contrast to the way she kissed Yasha. It wasn’t falling stars and fire lit in her chest, nor was it a cosmic shift of puzzle pieces snapping into place. As before, it was a realization, a revelation of something that might have been there for a while.

Beau kissed Yasha back, and she thought about pancakes at the diner and memorizing the way Beau’s eyes scrunched when she laughed. Yasha rubbed her thumb over Beau’s jawline and Beau’s sharp grin burst to life behind her eyelids. A tug to Yasha’s hair reminded her of Beau offering to braid Yasha’s messy locks every time they all slept at Jess’ place. Beau licked into Yasha’s mouth and all at once, Yasha pictured her apartment. She saw the walls she had kept carefully bare, the sheets she had bought, but no other furniture. The echoing emptiness of a place abandoned for a better chance, and inhabited by the echo of who Yasha used to be.

And what did people say about echoes being louder in empty rooms?

Beau kissed Yasha, and Yasha realized she didn’t want to be an echo anymore.

Beau made her feel solid in a way that was undemanding. She merely held out her hand and asked for the pieces of Yasha that were real, the parts she was willing to share. She helped Yasha make them into a complete picture.

Yasha kissed Beau back with all the gentle strength she could muster through the weight of her epiphany and the whiskey.

This time, Yasha knew she found something worth staying for.

#cr #critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha #writing #my writing

[restlessfandoming]

“ice fishing” (pt. 4) (chilumi fic)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

“Childe invites Lumine to the annual Snezhnayan holiday dedicated to the Tsaritsa. There, she meets his entire family, and all the conflict that comes with them.”

hey all sorry for the delay in update my brain went brrrr the past few days LOL :’)

[Fic Masterlist]

“ice fishing” (pt. 4)

The town square was bustling with various food stalls and merchants as the family weaved through crowds of celebrating Snezhnayans. Childe carried Tonia while Teucer held Lumine’s hand; Anthon held Teucer’s other hand, and Lumine and Childe’s hands were joined in the middle. Misha stayed a few steps behind them. Alexei decided to venture out to the countryside, alone, and Feliks and Galina remained at home. 

Childe had his face obscured by his red scarf brought up to his nose, along with a winter hat, as he wanted to avoid recognition as a Harbinger around his younger siblings. 

Lumine stepped in closer to Childe. “I can feel Misha’s disapproving glare burning into my skull,” she whispered. 

“Yes, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her satisfied with anything in the world,” he whispered back. 

Teucer tugged on Lumine’s hands. “Look at those toys, Lumine!” he said, eyes set on a colorful stall displaying various dolls, stuffed animals, and other children’s knick-knacks. The group stood in front of the stall, and the children ogled over the bright colors and playful patterns. 

“Children, I think you have enough toys already,” Misha said. “I think it would be better if you found something more practical to buy.” 

“It’s Lyublyu,” Childe interjected. “It’s a time for festivities; whatever they want, I’ll get it for them.” 

The older sister turned to him. “You spoil them too much, Ajax. How are they supposed to learn and grow up if you keep babying them?” 

His eyes narrowed. “They’re children, Misha. Let them have their fun and dreams.” 

Misha frowned, turned, then walking away. 

I have to know if she’s working with Alexei. Without a second thought, Lumine started following her. 

“Lumine! Where are you going?” Childe called out behind her. 

She turned back, only to see her view of Childe and the children become swallowed up by the intense crowd shuffling around her. 

She cursed, turning back to where she saw Misha’s back receding. Guess I have to follow her now…

Lumine’s tiny frame was jostled around as she tried her best to push through, keeping Misha in sight. The crowd thinned out at the edge of the town square with only a few people dispersed around. Lumine started to pick up her pace to catch up to Misha. 

Suddenly, a tall, blonde man stepped in her way, obscuring her view. 

“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” he said with a smile. 

“I’m not,” Lumine answered simply, moving to get around him.

He stepped in her way again. “You look very beautiful.” 

Great, a creep. “I’m in a bit of a hurry,” she told him. This time, she moved quicker and got around him. 

But he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “Let me take you out, darling.” 

No, allow me. Lumine charged up Anemo energy in her hand, blowing his grip away. In his shocked state, he stumbled back a bit, where she conjured Geo energy to pull up some stone and tripped him. He fell on his back. 

“What the—?” He looked at her, a mixture of fear and confusion, then got up and scurried away. 

Lumine let out a sigh. The sound of a sword sheathing turned her around. 

Misha stood there, hands on the hilt of her sword. “And here I was, ready to help.” 

“You were going to help me?” the traveler asked. 

“Perhaps,” Misha said. “But it seems like you’re strong enough to handle it on your own.” 

“Oh, uhm, thanks,” Lumine responded awkwardly. Did she...did she just compliment me?

“So, why were you following me? Did Ajax send you?” 

“No. I wanted to ask you something.” Lumine took a deep breath in, then looked Misha in the eyes. “Why are you here?”

A scoff. “Why am I here, at my own home?” 

“Why did you come back? Childe told me you left.”

“Did he now?” Misha took a step closer to Lumine. “And did he tell you why?”

“Your mother got sick. You didn’t want to deal with her weakness. Or your father’s.”

“She’s running out of time. And so is my father. They’re shells of who they used to be.” She clenched her sword’s hilt. “I left to train. To learn. So I could come back and raise my siblings properly.”

Lumine crossed her arms. “I would say Childe is doing a much better job than you are.”

Misha’s jaw clenched. “Teaching them a false reality of the world? That the world is made up of glittering childhood dreams and endless toys? That the world is always kind, no matter what?” She grimaced. “No. That only teaches them weakness. And then they’ll be like our mother and father: weak, empty shells.”

The traveler frowned. “You don’t think children deserve those dreams? You’d rather shatter their illusions of the world?” 

Lumine and Aether hadn’t experienced normal childhoods, no experiences of motherly or fatherly love. Misha wasn’t wrong: the universe could be a cruel place, full of people who wanted to hurt and lie and steal and break—betrayals, heartbreak, blood. Lumine knew that firsthand. But if she could stop someone from going through that, going through what she went through, she would. 

“If it makes then stronger,” Misha’s expression hardened, “then yes.”

And what was her strength? Where does my strength come from? 

She closed her eyes and imaged a vast, endless sea of clouds. Of the air whistling past her as her wings flapped. Seeing one beautiful world after another. With one person by her side. Aether. 

She saw an ocean, felt the misty spray around her, heard the metal clanging of blades. She tasted sweet love and felt power—respect—flowing through her veins. Gloved hands and an illuminating smile. Childe.

Strength. Love.

“It’s easy to hate,” Lumine said. “It’s harder to love in the face of evil. Your parents are strong, Misha, not weak. They have so much love for you and your siblings, no matter what.” Her hand hovered over her chest. “Anthon, Tonia, Teucer...they will be stronger with love and kindness. Not by shattering their childhood dreams.” 

“This is love,” Misha said, her voice as sharp as a knife’s edge. “I love my siblings enough to make them strong enough. So they won’t have to suffer when the world decides to bite down on them, to feed on them.”

Lumine stepped closer to the elder Snezhnayan. “You’re making them suffer now, Misha.” Another step. “They’re just children. Let them be warm, let them have their innocence. You’re right here to protect them. Childe is too.” She held out her hand. “And I will be here too.”

Misha looked down at the outstretched hand, her own hands still hovering her sword’s hilt. She then took a deep breath, and grabbed Lumine’s hand. But, instead of shaking it, she yanked her closer until their faces were inches apart. What—?!

“You...You defeated Ajax?” Misha asked, her voice low. 

“Yes, I did,” Lumine replied, ignoring Misha’s vice grip on her arm.  

“He’s a powerful Harbinger. He’s been fighting for a long time, since before he was even a teenager.” Misha’s eyes narrowed. “And you, a mere traveler, with no vision, bested him in combat?” 

“I did.” 

Misha’s mouth twitched like she was about to laugh. “If there’s one thing I admire about Ajax is his limitless strength—his absolute power. How masterful he is on the battlefield. And yet...you beat him.” 

“And I could easily do it again.” As my powers return more and more...

A pause. Then, a laugh. An actual laugh from Misha? “I can see why he likes you, traveler.” Her grip on Lumine’s arm loosened a bit. “Perhaps what you say is right. Your strength...it doesn’t come from cruelty.” Her icy blue eyes seemed the softest they’d ever been.

“Thank you,” Lumine said, overjoyed she had won Misha over. 

Suddenly, a hand came down between Misha and Lumine, splitting their hold. Childe stood between them, an obviously fake smile plastered on his face. Anthon, Teucer, and Tonia stood to the side, confused. 

“Oh, sister Misha, what are you doing with Lumine?” His voice sounded sickly sweet. “If I didn’t know any better, it would appear like you’re trying to steal her away from me.” 

Misha readjusted her gloves. “If she was so easily stolen from something like that, she would’ve been mine long before you intervened.” She had a tiny smirk on her face. 

Lumine’s jaw almost dropped. Is this...Is she joking?!

Childe’s hands flexed, ready for a weapon. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you joke, Misha.” Another fake smile, his eyes dark. “At least, I hope for your sake, it was a joke.”

Misha looked at her brother then laughed. “Of course, Ajax, you don’t have to worry about a thing. I don’t take things that aren’t mine.” She turned to the children. “Come, little ones, let’s go find some toys to buy.”

Teucer’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

Anthon’s brows furrowed. “Is this a trick?” 

“No, it is not a trick, Anthon,” the eldest sister replied. “Maybe some toy swords…?” 

Tonia gasped, jumping to Misha, and hugging her legs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, sister!” 

Teucer grabbed Misha’s hand and started dragging her back to the vendors. “I think I saw some toy swords over here!” Soon, Misha, Anthon, Teucer, and Tonia disappeared back into the crowded town square. 

“It’s a bit shocking to see Misha so...happy,” Lumine commented, her gaze still fixed on the crowd. Silence. “Childe—?” As she turned towards him, he grabbed her chin—his other hand on the small of her back—pushing her close into a deep kiss. 

Lumine broke away, her face flushing. “What was that for?!” 

His eyes were still slightly dark, arms still wrapped around her. “What did you and Misha talk about?”

...

“...Childe...are you jealous of Misha?” 

“No, of course not.” 

She reached up and pulled his hat down over his eyes. As he tried readjusting his hat, Lumine stood on the tip of her toes, grabbing the collar of his shirt, catching him off guard with a soft kiss. 

“You idiot,” she muttered. “I love you. Just you.” 

Childe pulled his hat back, his eyes meeting hers. “What can I say? You draw people in. It’s hard not to notice.” He rested his forehead on hers. “The thought of you...and...someone else…” He let out a hard laugh. “Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.” 

“Well you don’t have to worry about that,” Lumine reassured. “My stupid heart chose you.” 

“Mm, as did mine. I guess we’re just stuck together.” 

Together.

Forever? Her heart questioned without hesitation. 

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

[part 5]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #Childe #Lumine #tartaglia #childe x lumine #lumine x childe #childe x traveler #chilumi #lumichilde #fanfic #me

[glacecakes]

Wild Hunt

Eugene isn't exactly well liked by his men, but when they want to induct him into their ranks, he's not going to complain! All he has to do is hunt down a beast that they prepared for this event specifically-

It's Varian. Eugene is accidentally hunting down Varian. Now the two have to survive the night together, while one of them is injured, against a squadron of Corona's best men.

Uh oh.

IM BACK! Kinda. Finals are due Tuesday and I wrote this instead of doing them but WHATEVER WHO CARES

This was mostly written on the Varian Hivemind server, with some lovely inputs from the folks on there, and I edited it and finished it before throwing it up here. So uh. Yea. Team Awesome my beloved

Life and Times and VVO will also be updated soon!!! I hope to have at least one if not both chapters done by the end of the month 

ANYWAY HERES 8K OF TEAM AWESOME ANGST

Being Captain of the Guards sure had its perks.

For one, he got to attend meetings with Rapunzel, finally. You'd think being the princess's future husband (probably) and Prince of the Dark Kingdom got him some recognition, but noblemen are jerks and elitists, so what can you do. Granted, the meetings were boring as all hell, but still, it felt like he was actually being respected and taken seriously. Something Rapunzel had been pushing for since the start. Personally, he wasn't all that sure he deserved it, but if she was happy, so was he.

Another was that the guards no longer gave him shit. That's not to say they did before... well, they did. Stan and Pete didn't, but every other guard called him Flynn Rider at least once or twice before begrudgingly accepting him as their teacher and now commander. He no longer had to worry about someone breathing down his back, waiting for him to slip up or commit a crime, eager to throw him back in prison.

Speaking of which...

He turned the corner to see a few guards, couldn't remember their names off the top of his head, forming a small circle around a corner. Their predatory grins barred down on whatever their target was, whichever poor soul had angered them. One of them had his hands on someone much shorter, so short he couldn't make them out beyond the red coats and gleaming gold... which could only mean it was one person.

"Don't get comfy, brat," the one hissed, pushing Varian up against the wall with an audible crack as a skull hit stone, no doubt hoisted up by a shirt collar. "One of these days the princess is gonna get sick of you, and when she does, we'll toss you back into your old cell... and we'll restart our favorite game. Ain't that a swell idea?" Varian hissed, a soft thunk of his boots scrambling for purchase against the wall.

"Hey!" Eugene snapped, having heard more than enough. "Put him down now ." His words were like fire, causing the other two to jump back and reveal the battered and bruised alchemist. His lip was split, a large scuff of dirt on his white shirt.

One of the guards snapped his head around, whacking the leader's shoulder to get his attention. The guard frowned. "Oh yea? Or what?"

Before his new position, he would've leapt into the fray, hackles raised, punching the lights out of these jerks, but now, he had a much better stance. "Or you're fired." He crossed his arms, the perfect picture of a guy in charge who knew how to keep his men in line.

Someone who was clearly not him.

The guard hummed. "You don't have the nerve." To emphasize his point, he shook Varian a little harder, the kid's toes barely scraping the floor and his hands gripping the soldier's wrists. Leather gloves creaked with how tight the pressure was.

But Eugene's glare didn't waver, hand itching for the sword at his hip, his anger radiating in waves. It was enough to get the other two to back off.

"Cmon, Aaron," one whispered. "It's not worth it."

"Yeah, it's not." Eugene agreed. "Put him down now, and I'll lighten your sentence to a week in the stables instead of a month."

Aaron's face turned sheet white, then bright red. With a huff, he dropped Varian to the ground, readjusting his gloves while Varian cried out on the floor.

"You got lucky this time, brat," he hissed.

Oh, he knew that type of speech. The Baron used it all the time. Anyone who got told that never lasted to the next month. "And all other times," he said. "Because if I see you go anywhere near him I'm taking you to the princess."

Aaron rolled his eyes, clearly uncaring, and stormed off with a huff, his buddies trailing after. No doubt they didn't like a criminal ordering them around. Or, ex-criminal. He'd have to keep an eye on them.

A sniffle broke Eugene's musings, the fog of satisfaction and annoyance quickly replaced by concern for his younger friend. Varian sat up, wincing as he did so. He rubbed his neck, feeling for any injuries and finding none except for his ruined collar. "Aw man," he mumbled.

Dad had fixed his collar for him that day, a proud smile on his face. "You need to look sharp for your first day on the job," he'd said, ruffling Varian's hair. They'd grown so much closer in the past few months, the man always seeing his son off. Today was the first day back after his kidnapping, after all; he'd spent a month recovering from a broken rib.

"It's not my first day, I've been working there for weeks," Varian had grumbled, but let him do it with a cheeky grin.

"First day of the week," Quirin rectified, placing a kiss to his baby's forehead.

A forehead now covered in dust and a bruise.

"Hey kid," Eugene offered a hand that Varian gladly took, stumbling a little as he was helped upright. "You ok? Nothing knocked outta place?"

"Just my pride," Varian joked, smile quickly fading. "I'm ok though, really. I'm used to it." He shrugged, hugging himself for comfort. Maybe he could pretend dad was here, hugging him... he always had the best hugs. Even when Varian was little, before they drifted apart. Back when he was just the weird magic kid. Back when his biggest worries were some older kids picking on him... Dad would always scoop him up into a big hug with flowery words and a book of Flynn Rider.

A warm hand wrapped around him, pulling him into a red chest. Eugene took his other hand to ruffle Varian's hair, earning a squawk of complaint.

"Just because you're used to it doesn't mean it's ok, you know that, right?" Silence followed. Gosh, this kid... say what you want about being an orphan, at least everyone around you was on the same boat. No place for bullies, nothing to bully about, when everyone was doing just as badly. "If they ever give you more trouble, you come to me, yeah?"

"Huh?" Confused blue eyes met warm brown.

Eugene smirked. "You say the words and I boot them out of the castle, goggles. Team Awesome looks out for each other."

"Oh," Varian mumbled, dazed. He'd never had a protector, never had anyone looking out for him. Cold sneers and flowery words, manipulation and secrets and ulterior motives, sure. His chest fluttered, a laugh escaping.

But then... the anxiety returned full force, maybe even stronger.

If those guys got fired because of him, good god, he could only imagine the fallout. Well, that's not true. He absolutely could. One time in prison a guard got fired for beating a cellmate within an inch of his life, and though the guy lived, the second he was out of prison he got jumped, or so the story goes. In all honesty it was probably an embellished truth, stretched out to frighten prisoners into silence, but god damn if it didn't work. No one ever complained about their beatings. A peep was all that was needed to spend a night in the infirmary for even worse injuries.

"No, no, it's fine," Varian flicked his wrist. The dial on his hand spun with each flick, the ticking grating. "Besides, we have work to do!"

"Oh, yea!" Eugene gasped. Right! The whole reason he came out to this part of the castle was to look for Varian specifically, after all.

"So, right, maintenance stuff." Varian waved his hand, motioning for Eugene to follow. "Here's what I had in mind..."

-

It was a week later, late at night, when Aaron approached him. The moon lay low in the sky, just bright enough to allow for vision without torchlight, but not bright enough that anything beyond shapes were clear. True to his word, the guard had been stationed on stable duty for the past several days, coming back to the barracks covered in dirt and angry every time.

So maybe Eugene had whispered to Max about him. Big deal.

Anyway, the captain was knee-deep in paperwork when Aaron knocked on his office door. "Sir," he said. "Finished up for the day, and I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Eugene put his quill down hesitantly. Aaron was his first big show of power, the first punishment he'd dished. Everything else had been a variation of "keep doing what you're doing" as he settled into his new role. Who knew being in a position of power was so stressful?

(Everyone. Literally everyone.)

"I wanted to apologize for testing you, sir." The man shifted, eyes never meeting. His face was unreadable. "I wasn't sure you were going to be as..... sharp, as our previous captain. And I'm sorry for that."

"....Ok," Eugene said. "Thanks? I think?"

"So, I uh... wanted to do something for you." The man continues. "Me and a few others. It's sorta a ritual for guards. We didn’t do it before cuz of, yknow, Cassandra and stuff. And you're one of us now, so...?" He raised an eyebrow, a quiet invitation.

Oh boy.

Knowing these guys, it was probably something really stupid. Most of the guards were pretty nice, maybe a bit airheaded, but a lot of meatheads mostly. Big fans of machismo and showing their strength, boosting their ego, stuff like that. It's why none of them were fans of being run by a criminal. And no doubt Eugene would have to clean up their mess anyway, so he sighed deeply and rose from his seat. "Alright, what did you do now?"

Aaron placed a hand to his chest. "Why, sir, we did this out of the goodness of our heart! We're just welcoming you to the team!" He laughed a bit at that last part. He pointed out the door, leading his superior down the suspiciously empty barracks, and out into the courtyard.

About a dozen or so guards were outside, waiting. One of them was holding a horse's reins, and a crossbow.

"He's in!" Aaron called, and the guards all broke into cheers and raucous laughter.

"Yea, nice to see you guys too, uh. What am I... in?" Eugene asked, shifting awkwardly.

Aaron's smile widened. "It's just a fun little game, sir."

"The game is simple, really," Aaron slung an arm around Eugene's shoulder, pulling him close, not unlike how Lance does. But unlike his larger friend, this man is wiry, more of a weaselly kind of build, with stick thin arms that hide his muscle. "See, when someone new joins the guard, we test their skill by having them hunt down a beast in the nearby forest. Once they catch it, we all celebrate together! And welcome him into the ranks!" The guards all cheered, no doubt thrilled at the prospect.

"....right...." Eugene smiled uncomfortably, cheeks pulling and stretching, a puppet controlling the strings attached to his face. His stomach swirled, bouncing all over as he was passed around.

"But see, you're not just any guard, you're the Captain," Aaron's smile took an equally unpleasant demeanour. "So we figured we'd give you some extra... challenge." Outside of their little circle, no sounds could be heard. Not a peep from a cricket, or a cry from a bird, just dead silence in the surrounding glen. Just the crackle of torches, and the rustling of men.

"The beast for this occasion is small, smart, and fast. The goal is to catch it before it reaches the wall at Old Corona. All you gotta do is," he makes a noise with his mouth to emulate the crossbow. "Hit the target, and the rest of us will finish the job."

"Finish?" Eugene echoed.

The guards around him smiled with all of their teeth. "Well yea, we're not just gonna waste a perfectly good beast, are we?"

Eugene narrowed his eyes. If Rapunzel heard about this, no doubt she'd flip. "How will I know what I'm looking for? And why should I even approve of this?"

"Relax, sir," Aaron shook him, patting his chest with a heavy fist. "We're not just killing an innocent creature. It's always something that's been marked for slaughter, or is causing problems. And trust me," his voice deepened. "You'll know."

No horse was as good as Max, but that was probably for the best, what with his gut screaming about how this all felt so goddamn sketchy. "This isn't some trap where it turns out I'm the one being hunted, right? Cuz I don't want to shoot any of you with this," he joked, brandishing the crossbow.

"No, sir, not at all! In fact we'll be supporting you! No one makes the first shot until you do." He promised, patting the horse's flank. "Rest assured, no tricks here. Just a beast already marked for capture. Or recapture, in this case. We picked this one special for you."

"That sounds like it's supposed to be flattering but it really isn't."

Aaron shrugged. "Not my problem. Good luck!" With a smack to the horse, she cried out, spurring Eugene forward.

They rode through the Capital, out into Corona proper, lush with trees. At this time of night, no one would be about, not even thieves, laden in their straw beds and cots. The only things out right now are animals, or a beast, in this case. How is he supposed to know what he's looking for? What, is it going to be some giant thing with red eyes? No, Aaron said it was small, how the hell is he going to...

Then he hears it.

It's faint, almost like a windchime, but sure enough, the clanking of chains, and a small whimper. Somewhere through the trees there's a rustling, something moving. He can't make it out, the guards didn't give him a torch, but a blob of something rushes forward, the only thing he can make out the distinctive shine of metal, a chain reflecting in the moonlight.

Ah.

Eugene smirked, the rush of adrenaline from a chase beginning to pump through his veins. It'd been a while since an adventure without any stakes, without any daring challenges or risking death. The last time must've been... gosh, probably the Herz de Sonne misadventure? And even then he and Lance had just goofed off for the majority of it. Maybe the Spire? That one was much riskier but he and Rapunzel had been so outrageously drunk during that whole endeavor that it felt more like a fun jaunt.

He shook himself out of his reverie. Focus, Eugene! Fun or no, you're proving yourself to the guards! Show them that you're a worthy Captain beyond just barking orders and supporting the princess!

He spurred the horse forward, hooves thundering against the undergrowth and disturbing the leaves below. The beast let out a shriek, shrill and shaking, rushing forward. It weaved between trees, trying to throw Eugene off. Man, Aaron wasn't kidding about how fast it was. Even on horseback he couldn't keep up very well. The chains wrapped around the beast's legs screamed in complaint, clanking and clattering with each huff of its breath.

Eugene lowered the crossbow, sticking his tongue out. Steady... steady.... he fired.

The bolt whizzed through the air, lodging into a tree just a few feet away from its target. The beast flinched but didn't slow, scampering through the undergrowth, leaping over a fallen tree towards the river.

"Hyah!" He yelled, leading his horse over the log and splashing down into frigid waters. Water rushed past his horse's hooves, dulling the sound of chains, and when he looked around, the beast was gone.

Drat.

Eugene grumbled, reloading the crossbow before urging his horse onward. If this beast got away he'd never hear the end of it! They'd be all "Yes sir, Captain! We'll catch that criminal! As soon as you catch that beast!" And then they'd laugh and he'd moan and he'd have to go catch the criminal himself which is honestly not too far off from how it is already-

Anyway.

It took a few minutes to find it again, the beast trying to muffle it's movements by shuffling, but the metal song was too alluring to ignore. There was no time to waste. With the horse at a fast trot, quieter and steadier, he fired the bolt, this time getting much closer, barely whizzing past the silhouette and lodging into a tree trunk with a chunk of hair.

The creature cried out again, beginning to run and renew this dance of cat and mouse, but Eugene wouldn't have it. Dexterous fingers clasped a new bolt and quickly reloaded, giving barely a few seconds for the creature to try and run before firing again.

He didn't miss.

It was almost silent, the bolt's descent. Its tip gleamed in the moonlight alongside the chains keeping his prey in place, the one thing that slowed it and gave Eugene the upper hand. Whatever this beast was was quick, too quick, and if he lost it again, no doubt he'd never find it again. So when he aimed, he aimed down, and sure enough, the bolt embedded itself into the beast's calf, sending into stumbling.

It shrieked, screamed and sobbed in agony, noises bordering on almost human-like as it thrashed on the floor. The arrow stuck straight up, bright color on the end almost a beacon for the beast's location. Poor thing. He really should've just aimed for the head and put it out of its mercy, but this was the only way to ensure a clean shot.

Eugene slid off his horse, crouching low to the ground as he readied the final blow. But as he got nearer, as the moon hung lower in the sky, providing light through the filtering trees. He hesitated.

The beast was crawling, still trying to run, front legs pawing at the forest floor and clenching the leaves beneath with hands.

Hands...?

Eugene's stomach sank, lower and lower with each passing step, heart climbing higher and higher in his throat, the closer he got, the more ill he felt.

He saw the chains first. No, not chains like that on a cattle’s neck. Prison shackles, the kind wrapped around a prisoner's legs. And they were wrapped around legs, keeping strides from being too large.

And their torso.... clothed torso..... The beast heaved, each breath causing it to rise and fall with rapid panic.

The Captain's hands brushed against the tree with his other bolt embedded in it, eyes trailing onto it, and he froze.

Blue hair, stabbed by the bolt.

"No," he breathed. "No no no no no..." His boots picked up the pace, speed walking over to his catch, to his victim. Please, for the love of god, let him be wrong. Let this be a cruel prank, just a bear or deer dressed up to fool him... don't let it be...!

The creature heard him approach and sobbed, flipping itself over on shaking hands to get a better look at its assailant.

There, lightened by the moonlight, chest heaving, tears streaming down his face and blood oozing from his leg, was Varian.

"Varian....?" Eugene whispered, tears of his own budding when his friend whimpered, scooting back and away. With each step forward Varian scrambled back until his back hit a tree, at which point he curled into a ball. Like a frightened animal. Like a cornered beast.

Oh god... this whole time, he thought it was just one of the farm animals marked for slaughter, or a meddlesome woodland critter... he thought it was an animal destined for someone's table, so why not the guards'? Why on Earth did he agree to this? Was he so desperate for approval from his peers that he would simply shrug off the ringing alarm bells, put aside his gut instinct, and dive in blindly?

Yes, his mind whispered. You would, and you did.

"Hey, buddy," He leaned down, inching closer. "Varian, goggles, it's me. It's Team Awesome." His hand shook as he reached forward, but Varian flinched violently, causing his leg to spasm. The boy hiccuped, a hand clamping over his mouth to stifle his sobs. A small mercy came from the shadows of the night, with it too dark for details, Varian wouldn't see the blood rapidly soaking his pants.

The crossbow glinted, a sharp refraction bouncing off frightened blue eyes and causing him to wince. Eugene tossed the weapon away like it burned him.

"It's me, it's Eugene," he reassured, scooting closer bit by bit. "I'm here to help. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You did," Varian gasped, whole form shaking. "You did."

And that really was the crux of it, wasn't it? At the center of Eugene's self loathing was the spiral of guilt that you shot him, you shot the kid. He trusted you, and you shot him.

"I know," he rasped, trying to keep his voice level. "I did. I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." Varian sobbed, unfurling slightly if only to reach out for comfort. Even if this was the man who hurt him, who hunted him on horse and acted as the boogeyman straight out of nightmares, he was also Eugene, his friend, the one who stood up for him against Cass and Aaron, held his hand and promised he'd be there if Varian ever needed it. And god did he need him now.

Shaking, gloved hands connected in the middle, Eugene's grip gentle but grounding, a careful smile on his face. "That's it, bud. You're safe."

“Aw, ain’t that cute?”

Faster than a bullet, the smaller hand retracted, Varian’s eyes wide and horror-struck. In his attempt to comfort the boy, Eugene had let his guard down. He’d forgotten the final rule of the game.

No one moves until you make the first shot.

They were surrounded.

Aaron swaggered up to the duo with a grin, torch in hand. It flickered and sputtered, illuminating his blinding white grin amidst the darkness. The other guards formed a circle around them. Every other man carried a torch, while the rest had a weapon or tool or rope.

“The Captain has captured the beast! And in remarkable time, too.” Aaron simpered, waltzing up and gripping Varian’s cheeks in his hand. The boy snarled, teeth grit as he stared up at his bully.

From behind them came Aaron’s two buddies, the guards from before, each one wrapping an arm around Eugene’s shoulder, hauling him up and away.

For a moment, Eugene's insides were pure ice, frozen in time, unable to react despite the screaming in his mind as the puzzle pieces failed to connect. They jumbled and sloshed in his mind, the picture only half complete and the rest of the pieces strewn atop, obscuring the image from his view.

"Eugene...?" Varian whispered, thawing him.

"What have you done!?" He bellowed, anger hardening his voice. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?" He strained against the guards.

"Just as we told you, sir!" Aaron mocked, forcing Varian to meet the Captain's gaze. "We captured a beast for you to hunt down! And now that you have," The grin was razor sharp, shark's fangs practically drenched in blood. "We'll dispose of it properly."

A guard from the circle threw a rope, the ends tied into a loop. Like a ring toss, the aim was true, ensnaring Varian's wrist and tightening when he pulled. Another guard followed suit, yanking the boy back and forth till his arms were spread eagle and unable to move.

Varian turned a stark white, paler than the moon that neared the horizon. He cried out, straining to try and escape, but another spasm from his leg paralyzed him. “N-no, please not again…!” He sobbed. “Let me go-!”

"Again!? Varian, what do you mean? VARIAN!" Eugene yelled. "VARIAN!"

The boy screwed his eyes shut, praying for the nightmare to end.

"LET HIM GO!" Eugene strained against the guards, lamenting once again, his own stupidity. He should've brought Max, or an actual weapon, like his sword, or something! He'd gone in totally blind, expecting that the guards were decent people and that this wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. Honestly, he should've known better! After everything he's seen and done, never leave the house without a concealed weapon! You were almost executed by half these assholes!

When he gets back, he's firing everyone except Stan and Pete.

A third rope flashed through the air, this time with a loop larger than the others. It latched itself onto Varian's neck, wrapping tight and close. His eyes snapped open in pure terror, mouth opening in shock. But before the boy could protest or scream, the rope was pulled taut, and his face turned an awful shade of purple. He coughed, thrashing in place with tears of fear and hypoxia trailing his cheeks.

"Aw, the beast is scared! Doesn't he know how all animals are slaughtered?" Aaron cooed, faux sympathy marring his features. "You know, don't you? You were raised on a farm, after all." His question went unanswered, Varian too busy rasping for breath to respond.

The man with the rope pulled harder, forcing Varian's face down into the dirt where his muffled cries barely caused the leaves beneath to move. A steel boot stomped onto his head, and the cries went still.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?" Eugene bellowed, the protective instincts in his mind going haywire, overheating and exploding with pure rage and an intense need to save him, free him. He let this happen, if he had been smarter, stronger, if he hadn't shot him, hadn't let his guard down, hadn't shrugged and taken the guards' words at face value… “Oh relax, it'll be painless!” Aaron hummed, producing a knife from his belt. “The beast didn’t answer the question, but, I’m sure you can figure out how animals are killed after falling unconscious.” He jokingly slashed the dagger in the air above his throat, and Eugene saw red.

"YOU ARE SO FIRED!" He screeched at Aaron. "WHEN RAPUNZEL FINDS OUT-"

"Oh?" Aaron mocked, turning around and placing a hand to his chest daintily. "When the princess finds out? You're making her do all the heavy lifting?" He sauntered up to Eugene, hips swaying with each step till they were nose to nose. "This is your job, sir. You are in charge of keeping us in line, keeping the prisoners in their place."

"Varian is NOT a prisoner," Eugene hissed, meeting his gaze with pure fury. "He is a friend, my friend, my brother."

"Perhaps to Eugene Fitzherbert, but not a Captain of the Guard." Aaron shrugged.

Eugene lowered his head. For a brief moment, Aaron grinned victoriously. Now he's getting it.

"Too bad for you, I'm both."

Aaron's face fell, the cheerful facade falling into a brutal glower. "What does that mea-"

He was cut off when Eugene slammed his face into Aaron's, hitting the bastard's nose with a CRUNCH. He staggered back, and his buddies loosened their grip on Eugene to see if he's ok. It's all the advantage Eugene needed, quickly pushing them both off him and charging Aaron. His shoulder bowled into Aaron, sending him sprawling, and Eugene only stopped to grab the dagger he dropped before sprinting for Varian's crumpled form.

"Oh sun, please be ok, come on kid," Eugene chanted, slashing the rope around his neck. It leaves a brutal ring of red around his neck, as do the ones around his wrist when they're dispatched. There was no time to remove the chains, what with the remaining guards quickly regaining their senses and gearing up for a fight.

He lifted Varian up into his arms as if he were made of glass. Dark black hair lolled against the Captain's chest as he stood to his full height, glaring down at his employees, the hazers, the conspirators.

There was no hope of taking them all on, that much was clear. Charging into battle with hands full and armed only with a knife was stupid. He'd have to outrun them, play the game, and make it to Old Corona where Quirin could protect his son and he could get actual backup from loyal men.

Perhaps this was the true game, the true test of his worthiness.

Aaron snarled, staggering up while clutching his nose. "GET HIM!"

Eugene crouched, letting the first guard try and charge him before jumping out of the way at the last second. This he was used to, dodging men who wanted nothing more than to hurt and destroy what he held dear, making a run for it to the relative safety of the familiar. He fell into the old routine without too much difficulty, leaping over heads and ducking under blows. It helped that Varian barely weighed more than a few grapes, still a stick from his year in prison. He and the others had been hard at work trying to help him gain at the very least some muscle, though Varian was a big fan of skipping meals for science.

According to Quirin he's had that habit for a while, and right now it was a minor blessing.

Huh, he thought to himself as he dodged a crossbow bolt, taking off into the trees. Captain of the Guard isn't all that off from my usual life, just with some added benefits. Another arrow nearly took off his ear. Yea, same old stuff.

His feet pounded against the forest floor, dredging up leaves and dirt alike as he ran. There was no time to cover his tracks or be discreet, there was a whole battalion after him, so it wouldn't do much good anyway. But as his steps quickened, as Varian bounced up and down in his arms, the chains still rattling, the boy stirred, groaning in pain with each motion.

"Gene...?" He mumbled, muffled through the man’s coat.

"Hey kid," Eugene grinned down, not slowing for a second. "Glad to see you're ok. How's your throat?"

"On fire..." a weak hand pawed at his throat, rubbing the soreness away.

"Sorry about that, you're gonna be just fine, ok? It's all gonna be ok."

Varian hummed, eyes glossy and not fully there. His head fell back onto Eugene's chest, a soft smile full of love that he didn't deserve. "K. I trust you."

Varian fell back into an uneasy sleep after that, his breaths wheezing against Eugene, lips stained blue and face clammy. Anytime exhaustion tried to creep into his bones, tried to sneak into his soul and drain him to surrender, he looked down at Varian and his spirit would renew.

At some point, they were hiding behind a tree, keeping to the intense darkness. A few guards could be heard not too far off, their annoyed mutterings like an alarm bell, a siren's song of false security. Just as they passed, Varian coughed, clutching at the fabric for comfort. It was an ugly sound, weak and ragged, as if there was something coming up.

When he looked down, those blue lips were now stained red.

He picked up the pace after that.

But even he couldn't run forever, no matter how light Varian was or how determined he was. Inevitably he had to stop for water, hiding Varian behind a fallen tree and drinking from a stream whose sounds hid them from view.

He just finished his own drink when Varian stirred, and the Captain was quick to help Varian get some water of his own.

They sat by the stream for a bit, catching their breaths, Eugene from exertion, and Varian from strangulation.

It was here that Varian recounted his side of the story, tears dripping and mixing with the stream below him. "I was so scared..." he whispered, voice hoarse.

"I bet," Eugene soothed, running a thumb over Varian's palm. "What happened?"

"....I got jumped," his eyes turned downcast, shame coloring his features. "T-they grabbed me when I was gonna head home. Said that they wanted to make it up to me, to... to give me "a job befitting my talents"...." He sighed. "You can probably guess what that was, huh."

Eugene's ears burned. A flame simmered in his gut, nausea falling away as his free hand clenched at the leaves below him. "Yea. I can." He bit out.

For a moment, neither spoke, unsure of what to say. What could they say? The situation was insane, it was cruel, it was... it was…

Varian hacked, more blood than before coming up and splattering on the shackles that remained.

"Oh, let me get those," Eugene hissed. "I'm sorry, shit," He fumbled for his pockets, procuring a lock pick and making quick work of the shackles. "We gotta move. We can't let them find us." His hands hovered over the bolt, unsure. "Can I... I mean, you can't run with..."

Varian turned a shade of green, barely visible. “It’s stopping the blood from coming out.”

"Yea, good point, sorry." He coughed awkwardly, the stream bubbling and gurgling a simple melody.

"Why do... why do you keep apologizing?" Varian asked, not meeting Eugene's eye for a second.

"Wh- seriously?" He let out a bark of laughter, fading when Varian's face didn't change. "Kid, it's my fault you're in this mess! Sun above, I shot you. I said I'd keep you safe and I shot you." Anger swelled in his words, but Varian didn't flinch. He knew it wasn't directed at him. "Some Captain I am, I'm being chased by my own guys."

Varian bit his lip. "Did..." he hesitated to ask. If the answer wasn't what he was hoping for, he'd never recover. "Did you know it was me?"

"No!" Eugene's eyes widened. "No, I never would've agreed if I knew it was a person, let alone you!" He ran a hand through frazzled hair.

"So..." Varian hummed. "You shot me on accident, and then saved me. Again. Even when your men tried to convince you otherwise." Each sentence was slow, filled with Varian needed to take in a breath, but he met his friend's eyes this time. "I think that's a pretty good Captain."

Eugene blinked, then smiled. "Thanks, kid."

Dark voices shouted across the clearing, words incomprehensible. Varian jolted, hands flying up before doubling over hacking. Each cough shook his body so hard you’d think the boy was trembling with fright.

“Woah, easy,” Eugene’s hand rubbed over his back. “Deep breaths. Come on goggles. You got this.”

“You would think,” Varian rasped. “But I do not.”

Finally, with one final hack, his coughs ceased. Each gulp of air felt like heaven, or at least it did for the first few seconds. Then it was replaced by a searing hell, leaving him scrambling again.

God, what is the culprit?

As his breathing quieted, as the burn turned to a small simmer, Varian’s eyes trailed to the forest floor beneath him.

Stained with blood.

Varian’s eyes widened, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks as his entire world focused in on the blood. The dark blues of night left it hard to see, more a black shine than the vicious red, but there was no denying what it was.

“What-oooh,” Eugene hissed, grabbing Varian’s shoulders for support. Shit, this was bad. He made a mental list of symptoms for the inevitable doctor visit: raspy voice, struggling to breathe, coughing up blood... all signs pointed to the noose as the culprit. Whichever guard had tried to strangle Varian was getting fired and arrested.

No, screw it, all of them were.

“Focus on me, hair stripe,” he warned, shaking his brother slightly. “Are you ok to move?” All he got was a weedy moan.  “I’m taking that as a maybe.” With no preamble, he scooped his arms under Varian’s knees and back, pulling him into his arms as he stood in one fluid motion. “I’m gonna try and make a run for it, ok? We’re almost to your dad. I just need you to stay with me.”

Silence, and then a faint nod moving against his coat.

Each step sent vibrations up Eugene’s spine, tingling and thrumming in his veins and pounding in time with his heart. The sun would be rising soon, it had to be, with the dew that is forming at his feet.

At some point Varian readjusted, shifting so that he could see over their shoulders. He couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, but at least he could keep an eye out.

And it’s a good thing he did, when he beats wildly at Eugene’s chest in a signal. The captain was about to duck behind a bush, but the forest’s edge is within sight! Maybe if they made a break for it...?

An arrow grazed his side.

The pain looped through his system, joining the adrenaline for a joyride through his mind and it sent him sprawling. Varian rolled out of his arms, collapsing at the forest’s edge.

Eugene groaned, raising his face with the sun to see Aaron’s smug grin glowing in the upcoming dawn.

“Well, look what I caught! A daddy beast and a baby beast!” He said.

Eugene gaped. “Could you be any creepier? Really, gotta go for the weirdest shit to say, don’t you?”

“Eh,” Aaron shrugged, crossbow in hand. He stepped past his boss (Er, ex boss), boots crunching on leaves and leaving nothing but dust in their wake. “I’m a weird guy, I guess.”

“Yea, a real weirdo. Kidnaps a teenager and has the captain hunt him for sport. A nice quirk, ain’t it!” Each word is angrier than before until he is spitting acid.

Aaron doesn’t even argue; he’s too caught up in his victory. Varian shook as he struggled to sit up, arms quivering with effort. Just as he raised his head his eyes met the gleaming tip of an arrow, aimed right between the eyes. “Say goodnight, kid. Don’t worry. I’ll make a fine trophy out of you. Hang your goggles over my mantle.”

“Would you knock it the fuck off!?” Eugene wheezed, scrambling up. His feet gave out near instantly, but he leapt forward, colliding with the guard and driving his aim up. The arrow whizzed overhead, harmlessly lodging into a tree.

“Varian, run!” Eugene yelled, still on top of the other.

“I CAN’T! What part of arrow in my leg don’t you get!?” Varian yelled, immediately followed by coughing.

Eugene went to answer, only for the butt of the crossbow to whack him in the face.

Aaron laughed, loud and manic, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. It was quickly stopped by a punch to his stomach from the furious man above him. If the others found them, it’d be game over. Literally.

Whether or not Eugene would be killed was unclear. While he didn’t always need Rapunzel to save him, her good graces granted him immunity from most local threats. But they’d definitely kill Varian, and that was the bigger concern to him.

Unfazed, Aaron slammed his skull into Eugene’s, sending him tearing back. The guard quickly flipped them, crossbow still in between.

“Face it,” Aaron snarled. “You’ll never be a true captain. You can’t control your men, can’t protect a kid, can’t even protect yourself. You just got the job because you saved the lost princess.”

“In my defense,” Eugene wheezed. “Your previous guard couldn’t do that either.” That only angered him more, digging the crossbow into Eugene’s Adam’s apple.

The two men wrestled briefly, Eugene finally getting a good grip on the crossbow, and kicking Aaron off of him. He scrambled to Varian, fully prepared to scoop him up and begin the dance again, just for a little longer, but Aaron just yelled out in anger, drawing a sword from his belt. As strong as Eugene was, he couldn’t outrun him with Varian in his arms. He would know, he trained his men to match him in speed and strength.

Varian moaned in pain. He had to do something, he couldn’t just sit here! Eugene had spent the whole night running around, working his ass off to keep him safe after the initial mistake, he couldn’t let him down...

But the arrow scraped against his bone, pain sending stars across his vision any time he stood…

The captain’s hands clenched down on wood, eyes calculating. He looked into Varian’s eyes, then down at his leg. Then up again. And down again. He hissed between teeth, kneeled down, and clenched his fist around the arrow. It sent a pulse of pain through Varian’s leg, the boy wincing, but understanding.

“Do it,” he hissed.

And yanked.

The pain was so sharp, so intense, that for a moment Varian was certain he was dead. There was no way anyone could survive with this much pain, he must surely be dead or dying. White hot agony stabbed into his leg, and he bit so hard on his lip he broke skin. It took everything in him not to scream.

Aaron laughed again, shadow blanketing them. Eugene turned to see him looming over them, sword above his head. “Say goodnight, Sir!” he shrieked.

Fwip!

Thunk!

The man’s grin vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer shock at the arrow sticking straight into his throat. Blood trickled down the wound, looking more like an impulse tracheotomy. Suddenly, he pitched forward, face hitting the forest floor with a sickening shick as the arrow went the rest of the way through his throat. There wasn’t even a struggle, no death rattles or cry of pain, just the sounds of a morning dove in the coming dawn.

Eugene’s shoulders slumped, and Varian leaned back into the cool grass.

“You doing alright there, Goggles?” Eugene called.

“My lungs are on fire, I can’t feel my legs and I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know I could sweat. I’d say I’m in the mood to die, but I literally just spent the whole night trying to prevent that.”

“...fair enough.”

-

The weeks that followed were, for lack of a better term, a total fucking nightmare.

After pulling themselves together, the brothers managed to hobble to Varian’s house in Old Corona, just in time to greet Quirin at the door. Imagine the poor man’s shock when he was headed out to work only to be greeted by his son’s blood and the captain’s exhaustion. Suffice to say, they got a proper tongue lashing the whole cart ride to Corona proper, the father fussing over them both while he rushed them to the infirmary. And then they had to get chewed out by Rapunzel, and Lance, and pretty much everyone else, despite their repeated insistence that it wasn’t their fault this time.

“What did you expect us to do? We were being hunted!” Eugene whined at Rapunzel while a nurse cleaned up a cut.

“Uh, I was being hunted. You were hunting me .” Varian hoarsely piped up from his own bed, leg propped up in a cast. He paused at the frantic stop motion Eugene was making, and the paling faces of his father and princess. “Oh. Was I. Not supposed to say that.”

“You’re not supposed to be talking,” Rapunzel chided lightly, though that was clearly not the problem. The doctor had been pretty quick to explain Varian’s breathing issues were just from the throat trauma, and would heal with time and supervision.

“I didn’t know! In my defense,” Eugene held up his hands as if to shield from Quirin’s murderous face, but if looks could kill he’d be a pile of bones. “I didn’t know.”

“How do you…” Quirin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to remind myself that you saved my son’s life and ignore the part where you endangered it in the first place.”

“Yes, please do,” He said, shifting under the glare.

And then came the paperwork.

Trying to figure out who among the guards was part of the hunt was hard enough, seeing as outside of Aaron and his cronies, no one was going to say a word. All they had to go off of were the men who saw Eugene off, and the ones who initially captured Varian. And since they hadn’t run into anyone else directly, no one could be properly accused and charged. But Eugene wasn’t going to take any chances, and therefore anyone who he saw at least once was fired, and if they wanted to dispute it they could come to him and explain why they were willing to throw his little brother to the wolves.

Suffice to say, no one did. Which left Eugene with only two thirds his original squadron. He spent a good while of his recovery vetting new recruits and creating incentives for others to try out, and while he was able to replenish his ranks, they weren’t nearly the same elite task force they’d started with. And considering the threats they faced on the regular, that was a serious problem.

It was after a long day of training and interviews that Eugene finally stumbled into the castle library, ready to destress with a nice long binge read of Flynn Rider. He grabbed a few books off the shelves as he walked, headed for his favorite couch and the cozy fireplace at its side, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Varian lay spread across the couch, foot propped up on the armrest as he glossed over some scientific text that Eugene had no hope of understanding. His eyes flitted up and down the page, clearly not actually reading and more just staring at the words.

“Hey,” Eugene called, and Varian barely reacted. “Oi, kid, that’s my spot. Scooch it.” “I got here first,” Varian said, not looking up for a second.

“Older brother gets first dibs.”

“Little brother gets his way.”

Oh he was gonna play it like that was he? Eugene smirked, plopping his books down at the floor before collapsing directly on top of Varian, making care to not crush the injured leg. Varian squawked in protest, limbs flailing.

“Get off! You’re heavy!” he yelled, trying to push him off. When that failed, he resorted to whacking at him.

“Never!” Eugene laughed. “Your little punches feel like flowers!”

“I have an iron deficiency!” Varian responded, cheeks red but smiling slightly. The captain finally stopped suffocating him, but didn’t get off, instead wiggling in close so they could share. “Mean,” Varian whined, a pout on his lips, but didn’t complain.

“Oh hush,” Eugene chided, grabbing a book from the floor. “You know you love me.”

Varian simply hummed, buck teeth peeking through a tiny grin. “So, what did you grab for today?”

“Ah, glad you asked!” Eugene held up the cover, which Varian oohed in appreciation. “One of the older ones, came out when I was your age.” He wrapped an arm around Varian, pulling his brother close, the warmth of his side and the fire combining to create a heavenly cocoon. “You want to read, or should I?”

“Your turn,” Varian responded, stifling a yawn.

The book creaked in protest, Eugene gazing down at his little brother with a smile. He leaned his cheek on the boy’s hair, deep voice dripping with fondness as he started to read.

Being Captain was fun, but being a brother was even better.

#tangled the series #varian #tts #tangled #team awesome #tts eugene #eugene fitzherbert #tts varian #rta #rapunzel's tangled adventure

[newathens]

in honor of everything that happened on aug 18th the good and the bad here is a scene from secrets that has been collecting dust for a year and may never get its moment but it is where luke castellan gets a chance to speak and it deserves to b seen at least once

LUKE:

     Fresh donuts sat up on the counter, the sweet smell of frosting wafting through the space. The place was warm; their air conditioner busted. It was a random Wednesday at eleven in the morning so there weren’t many bystanders, though the few that were around kept stealing glances towards me. A mother lost in thought touched her cheek and when she caught me looking back, ducked her head. I kept tapping the tabletop with my knuckles, wondering how hard I’d have to whine to get the waitress to give me a chocolate glaze. She’d already passed by three times out of worry.

     The shining, silver bell shook and rang as the diner door opened. 

     He stood in the entryway for a long moment, taking in the length of the diner. It took him two tries to notice me, but when he did, the neutral expression he’d worn shifted into a deep frown. He approached the booth slowly and held my gaze all the while.

    “Not funny,” Hermes said. I smiled with all the gusto of a fourteen-year-old.

    “Sorry,” I said, voice dropping several octaves as I aged ten years. “I couldn’t help myself. Too soon?” He took a seat without another word. Blonde hair, blue eyes—nothing much had changed; in fact, there wasn’t a trace of greying hair to be found. He seemed fit, youthful. “I thought we’d leave some mark on your complexions.” He gave a tight smile and said nothing, but in the silence I noticed it. An airy presence, circling around me much like the scent of the pastries. It wasn’t threatening, just curious, like a snake amongst the forest floor.

     He was checking me.

     I did the same to him and watched, rather gleefully, as his eyes widened in recognition. It felt strange, kind of annoying. Is this how gods’ felt? Striped raw, bodies vibrating like giant batteries next to one another?

       His search turned up short, but mine didn’t.

      “Jean pocket, out with it.”

      He sighed and placed a gold iPhone in the middle of the table. The caduceus shimmered on its back. 

     Oh, look who it is! Martha said.

     “Nice to see you,” I said.

     I didn’t say this was nice!

      “And you too, George.”

     Hey, Luke, he said, if you take over his position, will you get to keep us?

     “I’d hope so, you two are a riot.”

     “Comical,” Hermes said. “Both of you keep quiet.” We looked at each other again, ready to speak but unsure how to start. The waitress beat us to it.

     “How can I—oh!” She nearly snapped her pencil in half. Her eyes were wide on me, then on the next booth over, then to the other side of the diner. “Wasn’t there, I mean, there was a child—”

       “Can I have three of those delicious looking donuts, miss?” I asked. The waitress bit her lip absentmindedly.

        “Sure thing,” she said, “And you?”

        “Nothing,” Hermes said, then his eyes glowed. “Thank you, and apologies.” The waitress stared blankly, then walked off without another word. The donuts from the counter disappeared and reappeared at our table. 

      “Thanks,” I said.

      He let out a tired breath, “Lukas—”

      “Yes, father?”

     His expression soured, wind rattled the windows, but then it softened, his eyes shut. I stared at the caduceus, quiet now. He sat back in his seat, placed a steady hand on the wood, and stared out towards the street. Towards the shops and sidewalks familiar to us both.

     “We’re here to talk, correct?”

     “Yes.”

     “Then explain.”

.

     Hermes had the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, eyes closed. As the silence stretched on, the conversation played over in my head. Again and again and again. The whole time he barely said a word, not unlike him. . .but not all that comforting. The diner was empty now, though I hadn’t realized when it happened. No weapons, those were the terms, but it would be a lie to say that my palm wasn’t itching to call Backbiter to it. Martha and George slithered around the staff mimicking some sort of animated phone case.

     I should run.

     He stood without warning. I followed.

    “Let’s go for a walk,” he turned and left. Again, I followed.

     Late summer heat wrapped around us like a blanket as we exited into midday. The area was lively, busy shoppers and cyclists, joggers and freshly-washed cars. Sun shone down heavy on their exteriors and I squinted against the glint. It was way too bright—

     “There’s no one here,” he said. I turned. He was waiting on the sidewalk, body facing north, towards the path that would take you further inland. Away from the main strip, closer to the suburbs. “Just you and me.”

     “Right,” I said and shoved both hands deep into their pockets. I knew where we were going.

     Higher up the heat wasn’t as oppressive. Hot winds blew now and then, rustling dry leaves and pushing the scent of saltwater up from the bay. I breathed deeply out of reflex. We walked in silence. I kept our strides in rhythm. That was until I saw it.

     The beat-up white house with green hinges that had fallen into disrepair from neglect and misfortune was almost unrecognizable. A new coat of paint covered the siding, the chipping front door had been replaced, and curtains blew out of wide open windows. A lush, green lawn surrounded the property, split in half by a clean walkway bracketed with a rainbow of flowers. There wasn’t a single discolored, mildewed, decaying stuffed monster to be found. I jogged forward in spite of myself.

     “What did you. . .” I turned back. Hermes had slowed, taking in the scene much the same as I. He looked at me. “What did you do?”

     “Luke, this isn’t,” he stared at the house and his face twisted, “I haven’t done anything.”

     I swallowed a dry mouth and ran up the walkway, all caution lost to the innate yet unearned fear for a loved one. The door rattled under my fist as I knocked repeatedly, frantically. Hermes took his place on the tiny porch beside me.

     “Hello,” I shouted. “Hello, is anyone home? Hello!”

     “Coming! Just a moment,” a gentle voice rose from the depths of the house and a few moments later, a woman opened the door. Blonde hair, not frizzed, interrupted by streaks of gray. Green eyes; forest green, not neon. Healthy skin, not sickly. A warm smile that only grew wider as she took us in.

     “Mom.”

     “Luke,” she said and pulled me in to press a kiss to my forehead. I went as rigid as ice; she didn’t notice. “And look at you,” she said to Hermes, who hid his shock well. He had a smile on, pressed a kiss to her cheek, but I could tell somehow, that he was as clueless as I.

     The spell.

     “Come on you two,” she ushered inside. “I’m baking.”

     “Cookies?” I guessed. It was the wrong thing to say. She stopped midstep, hand on the doorknob, and stared at me. Both eyes open, mouth in a frown. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she blinked and shook her head, as if pushing away a stupor. 

     “No, pie. Do you like cookies?” She led us into the house. It was quiet, a television played low in the front room. Varied, jewel hues covered the walls, hiding the dirty eggshell they used to be. Tarps covered some furniture, though they were clearly being used. The wood floors shined from a polishing. The entire space smelled of pastry. Hermes followed faster than I. “Luke,” she called. She was leaning out the kitchen archway. “Lemonade?”

      “Sure,” I said but couldn’t move. Then Hermes called my name and I scoffed. 

      The kitchen was different too. All the grime had disappeared. All the appliances updated. The old, retro table had been replaced with a long wooden piece, and on top of it, were strawberries. Buckets and buckets of strawberries, contained in plastic, straw, wicker; anything that would hold them. The sweet scent was nearly overpowering here. My mom held out a full glass and brought my hand to it to make sure it didn’t drop.

     “Strawberries?” I asked.

     She looked at the table, “Oh! Yes, I’ve grown quite an affinity for them,” she shrugged. “Not sure why but. . . they’re pretty aren’t they?” A beep sounded.

     “May,” Hermes said as she pulled a tray from the oven. She looked over her shoulder. 

     “Yes?” 

     “May, are you alright?”

     My mother smiled—with a gorgeous set of pearly whites. Not possible, her teeth had yellowed and rotted years ago. “Of course, I am. It’s a beautiful day and I have two of my favorite people right in front of me.”

     “May,” Hermes said a third time, this one pained. I realized where I felt confusion, he felt hurt. My mother noticed. Her smile dropped and her eyes along with it. “May, the last time I saw you. . .it didn’t look like this.”

     She placed the tray on the stove and took a heavy seat at the table. The towering strawberries seemed to suffocate her figure. “I was very different, wasn’t I? But I don’t like to think about it. Why not have some pie and then you can go? I don’t expect you to stay very long.” She looked at both of us. “You never can.”

    Hermes huffed in misery. He came to sit by her side. I felt like I was watching a television show. This couldn’t be mine, this couldn’t be my parents. 

    He took her hand, “I don’t mean to put you through pain but I’m a little shocked. Your condition. . . wasn’t exactly fixable. I’d like to know what happened.”

    “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “About a year ago, I woke up. . .at least it felt like that. The presence of that thing disappeared, mostly. I could think straight again. I started cleaning up, there wasn’t anything else to do. The calendar on the wall was from the nineties. Found out someone had been paying the bills all this time,” she touched Hermes cheek and he smiled. “One morning I started working on the lawn. . .” she gave a sad, little laugh. “Apparently, I’d gained a reputation. The neighbors were so worried they tried to take the shears out of my hands, but once they realized. . .they helped me. People helped me fix up the house, gave me food, took me to the dentist, taught me how to use these new phones. They were so kind,” she sniffled. “I really didn’t deserve that much kindness.”

     “Of course you do,” Hermes said but she lifted her head towards me.

     “I don’t remember much. I get glimpses, pains even. But what I can recall, none of it is good. The memories. . .and the visions. Luke, honey, I’m so sorry.” The air was so thick I could’ve cut through it with Backbiter. I scuffed my boot against the linoleum. Silence snaked its way through the kitchen, like Martha and Geroge slithered on that phone.

    “There’s nothing to apologize for, Mom,” I said finally.

     “But there is,” she tried. “All that happened, the things I did, and then I just let you—”

     “There’s nothing you have to apologize for,” I said and the air shifted from thick to frigid. Hermes’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t move his gaze from my mother. Whatever. “So did you chuck all my old stuff? Not that it matters, I’m a little too old for Power Ranger pajamas.”

      My mother wiped at her eyes, “Oh no, I haven’t touched your room. Go take a look, it’s all there.”

.

     The tiny, off-white carpeted room with one square window was exactly how I’d left it a long, long time ago. The bureau had one drawer open. Angry crayon marks covered a low corner of the wall. The small, twin bed was made, but wrinkled. I walked up to it and ran a hand across the blanket. 

     I had the sudden urge to stay.

    It hit me like a brick to the solar plexus, knocking the wind from my lungs. Anger followed soon after. What are you thinking? I thought to myself.

    You could go to college.

    You lost your right to a future.

    You don’t get to leave, Annabeth’s voice echoed.

    Through the window I could see the road; children playing across the street; a man starting up a lawn mower. It felt surreal, freakishly abnormal.

    Maybe this was a type of punishment.

    “What are you thinking?” Hermes asked. I hadn’t heard him enter.

    “I’m thinking I’m too big for this bed,” I said and turned towards him, hands in pockets. His cadecaus was out now. The snakes slithered the length of it, restless. “Not that it matters.”

#metaphorically speak in a sense i guess. to the audience #no i do not expect anyone 2 read it but if u like luke at all. i think u might feel warm and fuzzy and heartbroken at the same time <3

[alreadyblondenow]

And life will always be la vie en rose

Mark Lee x reader // FLUFF, SMUT, SMUT

Themes: long distance relationship, established relationship, very domestic

Word count: 4k

Summary: The city of love with the person you love. Mark surprises you in Paris but the vacation was not going as expected.

Warnings: phone sex, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of alcohol, drunk mark lee hehe

A/N: Inspired by Emily in Paris and Mark’s TVN short drama. requested by @mellowvoidexpertfriend​​ sorry it took me awhile :( and I hope this makes you happy. Thank you for requesting it! I wanted to give it a sad ending but figured you might hate me if I do that.

Its been almost seven months since you moved to Paris for work and leave the life you’ve always been used to. Your family, friends, your boyfriend Mark, all of them knew that moving to the city of love for your career is a big step.

Although some of them did not agree with your decision that you’re choosing your career, at least you have your boyfriend’s support no matter what. Mark has been with you since you were just starting at your job, he’s always supportive and caring even though he has his own career to take care of. Long distance is hard, but there’s nothing Mark wouldn’t do for you.

“Good morning, Paris” he greets you with a bright smile, the perfect afternoon light hits his face perfectly. You miss seeing that glow in person.

“Good afternoon, Seoul “ you answered with a raspy tone. Still sleepy but happy to see Mark, even if it’s from your phone screen.

“Tired? I miss you” he says, smiling sweetly through the screen. He was still in bed, comfortably laid with his thick blue sheets and striped fluffy pillows.

“Yes. I have a lot of stuff to do in the office today. But I still got time, no need to rush this call” you stretched in bed.

“Want to have phone sex?” He was hesitating to ask you but Mark was really horny in the middle of a hot afternoon. Good thing mornings make you horny like crazy too, so you said ���yes’ and the next thing you know is you’re both naked in bed, phone on the bedside table with a perfect view of your naked body.

“Run a finger up and down your slit” he commands. You can hear soft grunts from Mark already, pumping his semi-hard cock on the screen. “Yes baby, you look hot” he moans and you smile at his compliment.

“Oh I miss touching your boobs, the next time I see you I’ll grip those so hard- ah” he was having a hard time talking because watching you touch yourself was always too good and too much for him. “So good baby, pinch your nipples for me” he added. You moan and with your free hand, you lick your fingers and rubbed it on your nipples and made sure to let him hear your soft moans.

“Fuck- that was hot” he was going a little too fast pumping his cock, the sound of it was turning you on, and how Mark bites his lips and rolls his head back, watch you with half-lidded eyes. You just smiled, knowing that he’s your man and only you can see him like this. “What’s that smile for? I love it when you smile like that” you giggle at what he said.

“Baby, I’m near” it was a high-pitched moan and you curl yourself a little, trying to stop yourself from cumming so fast.

“Okay-fuck, spread your legs- yeah just like that” you followed what he said and you see his lower abdomen go up and down a little too fast, obvious that he’s stopping himself from cumming before you do. “Remember how I fucked you during your last night here- Ahhh. You were begging me to stop but I couldn’t cause your pussy is so good”

“Fuck Mark” you were still moaning deliciously, trying not to close your legs for Mark. His eyes were fixed to your body, your lips that he misses so much, how you work wonders with your own fingers.

“Oh! I will, Y/n. I will- fuck—you”

You came first then Mark, you watch his thick cum land on his stomach. Watching him look so weak and sweaty but still handsome. He caught you looking at him while you were cleaning your fingers, he winked at you and smiled which made you shy for no reason.

“I love you. Can I talk to you for a couple more minutes?” he requests, holding his phone near his face after he cleaned his cum.

“I love you too. Of course. We can still talk while I’m in the shower” he nod his head in disbelief. And smiled oh so sweetly to you before he tells you about his morning and how he had a dream of you. He was promoted last month, so there’s not much work for him these days because he’s basically a boss now. To be honest you feel bad for not being with him to celebrate for his promotion, talking to him for as long as he likes is the least you can do for him. Sometimes you’re talking to him while you walk to your office, or having lunch alone, virtual dates, or letting him pick what lipstick suits you on a certain outfit.

For almost a year, it was the little things that make you both even more in love with each other and no one is complaining.

“Hey Y/n, the boss wants to see you with your presentation now” your assistant knocked on your door, holding it for you as you gather your laptop and pretend that you’re not nervous.

“What if she hates my ideas?” you asked your assistant, walking together slowly to the conference room.

“The dragon lady will love it, don’t overthink it” she pats your back good luck and opened the door for you.

During your presentation, your boss had this I’m-bored-can-we-go-home-now face and it was bothering you while you were talking in front. Nonetheless, you delivered every single detail perfectly and smoothly that the other members of the board were impressed, and you hope the dragon lady is too.

“Good. Make it happen. Are we done here? Give her the company credit card and I want updates every week. Dismissed”

That’s your cue to breathe. Finally, you can relax. You were smiling from ear to ear for a minute then you remember all the work that you have to finish. Making this project happen-making this fundraiser happen, will seriously impress your boss and the other members of the board. You can’t afford to fuck up.  

Overworking doesn’t bother you at all, you don’t care if you’re the last one in the office and the first one to come the next day. You love your job and you value it. But to be honest, overworking is your coping mechanism. To stop thinking about home and Mark, just continue until you make it.

You got home and talked to Mark about the great news, of course, he’s very proud of you. Then you talked about the list of things that you have to work on for the project, and you wish you didn’t. Mark loves you, and that’s clear but he hates it when you overwork.

“Can’t you, make someone else do it?” easy for him to say because he’s a boss now.

“No, baby I can’t. This is my one way ticket to be the boss. If I make this happen, then okay, I’ll order everyone I see. But for now... sorry babe, it’s work for me” you said while unzipping your dress and moving around your room to change into some comfortable clothes. “Are you mad?” you asked, hoping he’s not.

“I can’t be mad at you, for loving what you do. I’m worried, that’s all”

After that call, Mark was dealing with some of his work as well and thinking about how he can rescue you from overworking. Well, he only had one effective solution. And that is to visit you in Paris and be with you so he can take care of you for a short time. He wasn’t going to visit until Christmas, but he couldn’t wait much longer.

He gave himself a week to think this all out and plan his surprise to you. He booked a flight, took two weeks off from work, and packed his bags.

You, on the other hand, is busy overworking tonight at the office. You feel heavy and exhausted, hungry but you just want to sleep when you finally get home, and Mark hasn’t messaged you like he normally does in almost two days. You feel awful, but Paris at night can quickly take away all youe exhaustion. Everywhere you look is beautiful.

As you force yourself not to feel tired on your way home, you saw a familiar figure who just got out of the taxi with a bunch of luggage. Am I dreaming? You slightly slap your face and walk slowly behind the man and wait for him to turn around.

When he did, you almost burst into tears.

It’s been seven months since you last saw Mark in the flesh.

“Hi, you look exactly like my girlfriend” he smiled and scrunched his nose, pull you into a hug, and kissed you in front of your apartment building. Paris is starting to feel like the city of love, finally.

You helped him with his bags up to your apartment, feeling so excited and happy that the tiredness that you’re feeling earlier was long gone. As soon as you reached your door and opened it, Mark put down the bags and crashed into your lips. Kissing you in the dark with only the light from your window.

“Oh, I’m never going to leave your side,” he said while hungrily kissing you. Removing your clothes one by one, making a trail of clothes until you reach your room, and pushed you on your bed. It’s been seven months since you last had sex with him and you’re sure that Mark will make you feel good tonight, as always. He may look innocent and cute always, but Mark knows how to fuck.

“We just have to be quiet tonight Mark- French neighbors. Don’t want to piss them with my moans” you warn him before his cold hand lands on your boobs, touch them softly and squeeze them tightly as he promised.

“Okay, let’s just keep our moans between us two” he kisses your lips as his way of saying, he’s going to start now. Kissing you down to your body until he reaches your pussy, to show that you're eager, you spread your legs widely for him and begged quietly. He used his pinky finger and slides it up and down your slit slowly. So slowly that it makes your legs shiver and your hips jolt, giving you goosebumps and making you sensitive already. He smiled at your reaction, happy that he has that effect on you.

“Wet” he murmurs and proceeds to kiss your pussy, like it was your lips. Feeling his hot tongue on your cunt, using it to fuck you. He spits on your cunt and let you feel it roll down your slit. It makes you sensitive and moans his name. He goes back in and licks you good, his hands run softly on your stomach, making you feel calm and confused. When he felt that you’re already on the edge, he watches you moan quietly, pinched your nipples, and did not released it until you’re shivering and shaking your legs uncontrollably.

You catch your breath until you see Mark above you, kissing your cheeks and reaching for your hands to intertwine it with his. “I just miss you, is it too much?” you shook your head with a smile and kissed your boyfriend back.

“My turn to give back,” you said weakly, but you’re already pushing him on the mattress. On your way to straddle the man you love and ride him good. You kissed him softly, grinding on his cock and spreading your juices on it. Brushing his nipples softly, which made him stop kissing you to let out a curse and tell you to don’t stop. It was too much for him but he likes it, overstimulating himself was his favorite and he drags you into that pleasure of his.

As you put his cock inside you, he grab holds on your wrist that he allows you to rest on his strong chest as you fuck him. Seeing you on top of him after for so long was toe-curling for him. The thought of it makes him blush, but also his view of your boobs in front of his face makes him smile too. He licks it once, “Oh- Baby, do that again?” you ask of him, he knew you would like it.

Your boobs are perfectly being sucked by Mark while you bounce up and down on him, rolling your hips at a steady pace. He lets go of your right nipple with a wet sound, feeling both of your nipples really swollen and sensitive. “Can’t hold on much longer baby, let me take over?” he was already on edge, you are too, but you let him take control and let him fuck you senseless that you were covering your mouth to stop yourself from moaning to loud.

“Bite me,” he said and you didn’t think twice, you bit his shoulder as you ride your high. He was cumming so hard too and his whimpers were muffled by the pillow behind you. You feel like he's going to crush your hand by gripping it so tightly and he feels like his shoulder is about to bleed.

It was a romantic night in the city of love. Both exhausted from sex but you two never kept quiet and talked to each other all through the night, watching the Eiffel Tower from your window, bodies covered with your thin sheets. You snuggle to Mark sniffing his armpit and making him giggle like a teenager, he tickles your legs and making you jolt and kick him a little too hard which made you both laugh so hard. You were away from each other for a long time, but your love stays the same and neither one of you is planning to ruin it.

The next day, Mark woke up with the smell of freshly cooked omelet and the zest of freshly squeezed orange juice. He looked at your clock on the bedside table, and it was almost lunchtime. He was quick to put on his glasses and find you, still naked because of last night’s intimacy but he doesn’t care. He feels home because you’re the first person he sees. Mark wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I was wondering where did my shirt go,” he says with a raspy voice. It’s obvious that he’s still sleepy but he wants to spend as much time with you.

“Still sleepy?” you turn around after turning the stove off, “And still naked with only your glasses, huh? You look like a nerdy porn star” you tease him, slap his ass, and made him wear at least his sweatpants and come eat breakfast with you.

“You don’t have work today?” he asks, chewing his omelet and drinking his juice.

“I have but, I call in sick for three days. Wouldn’t want to waste time” you said, smiling and winked at him. “You know, I know why you’re here. And I want you to know it’s working” he chuckled and scratched his head, busted he thought. “But I can only leave work for three days, after that I promise you I will do my best to still be with you, and not waste your time here-“ you were talking too fast, rambling that he didn’t have any choice but to stop you from talking.  

“Understood, baby chill. I’m not here to sabotage your career, I’m here to take care of you”

In those three days, you and Mark enjoy Paris like a married couple enjoying their honeymoon. You’ve never enjoyed Paris like this, all thanks to Mark, the city became even more special and magical for you. You brought him to different French restaurants and made him eat a lot of good food and a lot of Watermelons, of course. You toured the city hand in hand, going to art galleries and taking countless pictures. The winery tour and your dinner date made Mark really drunk and it made him ten times even more funny. It was a struggle to bring him back to your apartment in his drunken state, but you love him too much that you even enjoyed his drunken company.

“I’m gonna ask you to marry me okay? Are you ready?” you help him step by step as you go up to your apartment, laughing so loud and disturbing your french neighbors, he was going on and on talking about marriage. “It’s true, check my pocket get the ring”

There's a huge part of you that secretly hopes that he’s telling the truth. Even if he’s proposing in his drunken state and couldn’t pop a knee, it’s okay. The staircase is still romantic for you and drunk or not, you love Mark with all your heart and soul. If Mark was telling the truth… you will say ‘yes’ and accept it will all your heart.

With all your bravery, you checked the pocket of his jacket and looked for a ring or a box. Honestly, you don’t know what you’re searching for. But there’s no ring. It made you disappointed but just laughed it all out and soothe his back because he’s about to throw up.

You reached your apartment, just in time for Mark to puke and curse every alcohol in the world. “Sorry if I’m a burden” he murmurs, resting his forehead on your toilet bowl while reaching for the flush.

“You’re never a burden. Feeling okay? Come on I’ll help you clean up” you kissed him on the forehead and left to get some clean clothes for him.

You spent the night taking care of Mark, enjoying how he hugs you so tight like he’s a child while he whines about how his head hurts. The night mostly consists of him whispering his apologies and never-ending I love you’s, while you still think about what he said earlier. Even if it didn’t happen tonight, the fact that he brought it up, finally, means that he was thinking of doing it someday. And that thought alone made you throw away your disappointment and hug him even more tightly.

Days go by and you juggle work and spending time with Mark and enjoy Paris. You feel bad letting him visit some great places alone or stay inside your apartment until you come home from work and go out finally. It was heartbreaking in many ways, but you didn’t have a choice.

On Mark’s first weekend in Paris, the first thing you did is wake him so early with loving kisses and go to the market with him. There, you and mark bought food for dinner tonight and promised you will cook for him. He was so in love with the city but had a hard time talking to French people.

“Wow, your French has improved” he praises you, “I read somewhere on the internet that the best way to learn the French language is in bed. Is there something I need to know, huh Baby?” he kissed your forehead to let you know that he’s only joking and completely well aware that cheating on him is beyond impossible.

“Fuck me in Korean then so I can learn it too” it made you both laugh, finding each other completely hilarious.

“Okay, I’ll fuck the Korean words out of you tonight”

The dinner you made was delicious, and it made Mark sad for a second because he realized he has to wait for a few months more to taste your cooking again. To light up the mood, you didn’t let him have a single alcohol tonight and made fun of his alcohol tolerance. And soon, after cleaning up from dinner, you two made love again.

He was balls inside you while you were making the pretties moans only for him to hear, he suddenly moaned Korean words which made you lost it and laughed so loud, your voices could be heard from your open window.

“Were you about to cum? I’m sorry, I just want to make you happy” he said, still inside you but not moving anymore.

“On edge, yeah. But I am, happy Mark. You came to Paris for me, even though I work my ass off while you’re still here. Oh, baby, I feel sorry.” You whine and nuzzle to the side of his sweaty face.

“Will you be happier if I ask you to marry me? Hmm?”

You were like a statue when you heard him talk about it again, and this time he’s sober. He kissed you back to reality, smiling nervously on top of you while waiting for your answer. “Hey” he kissed you again, giggling awkwardly.

“Of-of course I’ll be happy- are you proposing now?” you were stuttering and your hands were shaking as you reach for his face to cup it and kiss him. Tears in your eyes, pure happiness.

“While I'm still inside of you? No- I already have the ring, but with all that’s going on with your work right now. I just had to be sure, you want this. The last thing I want is to ruin our relationship and I’m sorry I had to say this to you while I’m still inside of you-“

You stopped him from rambling and talking too much, “Save it for breakfast. Now, continue fucking me in Korean” you both giggled again in no time. The night went on but it became, even more, sweeter for the both of you, more fucking in Korean happened and both of you slept like angels.

The morning after, you two made breakfast while trying so hard to keep your hands from each other. Obviously, the sweetness from last night hasn’t died yet. Marriage is not always a bed of roses, you’re aware of that, but you pray and pray that you and Mark stay the same like this for many years more.

“So that night at the stairs?” you asked him, taking a sip of from your coffee, eyes never leaving each other.

“I was serious but too drunk. I was going to talk about it with you that night, but…” you understand. Still, it made you happy. The morning was filled with laughter and kisses with Mark, talking more about marriage and the possibilities of having kids, shower sex, and him helping you prepare for work.

When you were just about to leave, “Oh! I almost forgot, fuck, Uhm- I need you to be my date tomorrow night. It’s the event that I’ve been working on, here” you hand him your credit card, “Sorry I can’t go with you. Buy yourself a nice suit okay? I’ll see you at dinner, I’ll be a little late, but I’ll make it to dinner” and again, you feel bad about treating him this way.

Mark is amazing in many ways, he bought a nice suit for your event tomorrow night and looked for a quiet french restaurant where he can propose to you properly. It was not hard, but talking to French people was not easy either. All he had in mind was, you deserved a romantic proposal.

Your most awaited day finally comes and everything is running smoothly. You haven’t seen Mark, because the dragon lady wanted you to get ready with her at the hotel where she was staying. “Have you seen Mark?” you asked your assistant, “I left him at the gallery. I told him you’ll meet him shortly”

After a few minutes of saying 'hi' 'hello' to the guests, you forgot that you were looking for your boyfriend and felt bad for doing that.

“Hey beautiful” he whispered behind you, and you almost spilled your champagne. You turned around and see the most handsome man on Earth, wearing a black and white suit with a slightly crooked bow tie. Your mind swims to the question, ‘will he be this handsome on your wedding day?’

“Wow- I’m speechless” is all you can say while admiring him like he's one of the paintings hanged on the wall.  

“You look expensively beautiful” he greets you with a kiss and you fixed his bow tie, asking for a kiss again that he happily gave. You showed him around and introduced him to your friends, exchanged laughs for a minute then you're around working again, leaving him alone. He watches you do your job, even if he’s left alone most of the time. Nonetheless, the event was a success and you’re soon to be promoted, the dragon lady told you herself.

“Baby, I’m sorry”

“What for? You were great the whole night” he helps you unzip your beautiful Valentino dress.

“How many times did we talk tonight, I feel bad” you whine and helped him with his tie while you’re all exposed, wearing only your black lingerie. He played with the strap of your bra and proceeds to palm your ass. You did the same because he has a much nicer ass, he chuckled and kissed you to bed. Just like that, Mark turned everything around.

It’s his last day in Paris today, he leaves tomorrow morning. And you hate it. The bed feels, even more, warmer with him in it, you’re not ready to let go yet. “Don’t worry. We have forever to make the bed warm. Right?” he tries to cheer you up. “Don’t forget the dinner tonight okay?” he added.

Your day went on with Mark and you two spend more time together talking about life and everything under the sun, laughing while eating watermelons, until you had to leave again for the company dinner. It was supposed to be a night filled with Mark and Mark only but your boss decided to throw a dinner celebration for a successful event the other night, and you can’t miss it because she told you, ‘Show up tonight. Don’t piss me’. with a sly smirk that you oh so hate.  

It was heartbreaking. You don’t know if the dragon lady knew that Mark was going to propose tonight or it’s just your life, ruining your perfect relationship with Mark. The dinner ended almost before midnight and you ran to the restaurant Mark told you not caring anymore if these Manolo pumps cost a fortune.

There, you saw Mark playing the piano while the restaurant staff was already cleaning up, fixing tables and chairs. It's been a while since the last time you saw him play an instrument, he knew you love it when he sings for you. You looked around the place and figured how he found a place like this in a country he's not familiar with. He was trying so hard during his whole stay, and you just watched and you let the people from work drain you until there’s nothing left for Mark.

He was still playing the piano sadly when you embraced him from behind, greeting him with a kiss. Feeling sorry for ruining the night he has planned for the two of you. He stopped and faked a smile, it was obvious and it pains you to see him like this. The space was quiet, and you notice that the staff were nice enough to give you two some privacy. He continued playing the piano and started singing the song his father used when he proposed to his mother.

You feel unworthy of his love.

Mark kissed you before he stands up, but all you wanted to do is say sorry over and over again. But you didn’t want to ruin the mood. You watch him bend on one knee, smiling shyly but you can say that he knows what he's doing. “Even if I already know the answer, and even if you become the busiest woman in Paris, marry me? Make me the happiest man alive?”

You were in tears, but you don’t know if it's made of happiness or sadness. There was a moment of silence that made him nervous and thought that maybe you changed your mind. It was making him nervous.

“Yes yes, of course”

Mark sighed in relief and let out a nervous laugh. He puts the ring on your finger and dried your tears before he kisses you. You see his sharp cheekbones appear from too much smiling and told you that his cheeks hurt.

That very moment made you realize that your job here in Paris and your boss, doesn’t deserve you. You can be amazing somewhere else, somewhere closer to Mark. In that way, you can be busy, yes, but you can come home to him every day and fuck in Korean the whole night.

#nct-writers #nct smut #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #nct fluff #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Three)

Summary: Steve drops by the VA and listens in on one of Sam’s meetings and later that evening, (Y/N) reflects on her unusual day with the super-soldier.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief discussion of PTSD

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three (Previous Chapter)

After placing sugar packets and stirring sticks next to the coffee maker, (Y/N) took a seat beside the refreshment table and watched as Sam took his place at the front of the crowded room and began the meeting. One by one, each person would share their struggles with PTSD and how it had affected their lives as civilians; with each person’s story, (Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy. These vets have put their lives on the line to protect us, they don’t deserve to suffer, she thought with an inward sigh. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d woken Sam up from a nightmare or had seen him suddenly grow silent and have to distract him from his memories of war. But it was wonderful that people like Sam, people who face the same exact struggles, run programs to help each other out.

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) turned to see Steve Rogers leaning against the doorframe of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the meeting. Smiling and tugging her sweater tighter around her, (Y/N) turned her attention back to the woman speaking. “The thing is I think it’s getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week, he thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

Sam nodded. “Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase or in a little man-purse? It’s up to you.” Everyone clapped and began standing, so (Y/N) jumped to her feet to man the table. She greeted each person with a smile as they grabbed cookies and filled their cups with coffee, delighted to see so many new faces among the usual crowd. After about twenty minutes of mingling and making small talk, the crowd started to leave so she decided to begin packing up the refreshments as Sam bid them goodbye out in the hallway.

“Don’t take those away those cookies just yet, darlin’, I wanna bring one home to my gran’daughter.”

(Y/N) looked up to see Gary, an older man with an incredibly bushy grey beard and a Vietnam War veteran’s baseball cap, and she smiled brightly before offering him the half-full container. “Take the whole thing if you’d like, Gary, and be sure to say hello to Katie for me!”

That made Gary grin toothily as he took the container. “You know, darlin’, you’re sweeter than this whole damn box of cookies. I’ll be seein’ you next week!” (Y/N) gave him a small wave and resumed cleaning as he limped away.

“You’re pretty popular around here.”

She turned away from the coffee pot and smiled when she saw Steve standing before her, his blue eyes glimmering and his hands shoved in his pockets. “If I am, it’s only ‘cause I give away free cookies; the vets that visit all have a massive sweet-tooth, you know.”

“Are you a vet, too?”

“Nah, I just work here.” She tossed several used paper coffee cups into the trash and chuckled. “A year ago, when I finally graduated with my master’s degree, I started writing my novel and since I was writing about soldiers and government agents I needed to interview some about their personal experiences. So, I decided to come down to the VA. I met with Sam, who had just started working here, and asked if I could interview some people for my writing. He agreed, and I spent the whole day just talking to the vets. All sorts of vets, too; men, women, old, young, you name it. And at the end of the day, after hearing about their struggles with PTSD and how hard their lives became once they returned to civilian life, I went back to Sam and asked if he needed any part-time employees. He said yes, and we’ve been best friends ever since.” Steve smiled, and the impressed look he was giving her caused her to blush so she hurriedly changed the subject. “So, did everything work out earlier? It’s just that it seemed a little serious, so I hope that everything’s okay.”

Steve’s smile fell a little but he nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine…I was just visiting a friend who hasn’t been doing too well lately.”

(Y/N) impulsively placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, that sounds difficult. I hope they get better soon.” The ghost of a sympathetic smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and Steve’s eyes softened after a moment; realizing that her hand was still resting on his arm, she hastily withdrew it and began folding the tablecloth to keep her hands busy. “Um, Sam and I were planning on going out to dinner after we finish packing up, you’re welcome to join us if you want.”

She glanced up at him and saw a glint of something in his eyes, but it disappeared before she could get a closer look. “Thanks for the offer but I’ll have to pass; I’ve already got some plans later…”

“That’s okay, maybe next time!” (Y/N) smiled, but inside she couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Just then, Sam walked into the room with a stack of pamphlets in his hands. “Pretty good turnout today, huh? Five new faces and Captain America!”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I’m glad that I stopped by.” He glanced at the clock on the wall before continuing, “I should probably get going, but it was good to see you two again.”

(Y/N) shook his hand. “I’m not gonna lie, it was a little weird seeing you in your own exhibit earlier but it was great hanging out with you!”

“You too, and good luck with For Queen and Country, I’ll keep my eye out for it in the bookshops.” His bright smile caused her heartbeat to once-again quicken as their hands dropped.

“It was good seeing you too, Cap, you made me look really awesome in front of Maria, so thanks for that.” Sam grinned and shook his outstretched hand.

“Glad I could help, Sam; see you two around!” Steve gave them a small wave before turning and walking out of the room.

Tearing her eyes away from the doorway, (Y/N) resumed her cleaning and glanced at Sam. “What do you feel like tonight, Thai or burgers?”

Sam grinned and began unplugging the coffee maker. “Burgers. So, did you have a nice day chilling with your new boyfriend, Booksmart?”

“Sam…”

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Later that evening, (Y/N) sat down at her desk and put her music on shuffle before flicking through her notebook to the pages of notes she’d taken that day at the Smithsonian. She bit back a smile when she recognized the difference between the carefully printed notes she’d taken by herself versus the illegible scribbles taken from the elderly security guard’s long-winded explanations. He was kind of a fast talker, wasn’t he, she thought to herself; as a way of honoring the enthusiastic old man, she ultimately decided to name one of her minor characters after him.

“Stan.” She sounded out the name and gave a satisfied nod. “Yeah, that’s got a nice ring to it…”

(Y/N), now finally having all the information she needed to best describe Soviet Cold War missiles, wrote for nearly three hours straight, only taking breaks to skip songs or to glance down at her notes. She would’ve probably continued writing well into the next morning except that her eyesight was beginning to blur around the edges, an unfortunate symptom of exhaustion.

Well, you have had a pretty busy day today, (Y/N) silently reasoned as she saved her evening’s progress and booted down her laptop. Since Sam was already fast asleep in the room across the hall, she went about her bedtime routine as quietly as she could, washing her face and brushing her teeth before tiptoeing back into her room. She slipped on her mismatched pajama set and was about to crawl into bed when the record player on her bedside table caught her eye. Making her way over to what Sam affectionately called ‘The DJ Bookcase,’ she scanned the shelf devoted solely to her record collection until the right one stood out to her, and then she carefully placed the record on the turntable and lowered the needle. After a moment, the soft tones of Glenn Miller’s ‘Stardust’ filled her room and with a smile, she finally got into bed and turned to watch the record spinning on the turntable.

Thoughts of the super-soldier who’d inspired her choice in bedtime music began to fill her mind, making her smile softly to herself. (Y/N) had enjoyed seeing Steve again, even if it had been in a highly unconventional place like the Smithsonian, and she quietly marveled at how effortless it had been to talk to the larger-than-life man. He really was different from how the history books portrayed him: not only was he kind and polite, but he was also intelligent, sarcastic and extremely understanding. Also a little lost, I expect, (Y/N) thought, remembering his guarded expressions and withdrawn replies whenever she’d ask him a personal question; it couldn’t be easy adjusting to a brand-new reality, especially without a fixed support system to rely on.

“Hopefully he ends up getting the help he needs.” (Y/N) murmured to herself, her sleepy eyes continuing to watch the rotating record as more thoughts of Steve Rogers filled her mind.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all liked my little Stan Lee cameo in this chapter and the last :) I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​ @lahoete​ @awkward117​ @cminr​ @momc95​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @khuang3​ @supersouthy​ @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie​​ @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​

Chapter Four

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america fic #captain america the winter soldier

[ka-writes]

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Notes: I was at camp. Sorry for posting late... in return I gift a long chapter!

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In Case you missed it:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warning: Characters being trapped, mentions of IVs, Cussing, yelling, characters being restrained, nightmares, mentions of murder, a guy being arrested.

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“Humans are [add text here]”

Chapter 3: A Wild Crow Father has Appeared

Phil wasn’t expecting to be returning to Planet A112 so soon but Wilbur had sent a distress signal and that was the Dream Team Craft’s next stop.

The planet itself stood as a port market place. There were many of these planets around the galaxy, but it was probably the more popular ones for criminal ships and such. Poachers and Scientists alike came here to get supplies to take the biggest beasts in the galaxy, Humans.

Phil never understood the appeal, but both of his sons had gained that sort of adventurous aspect that he had lost so many celestial years ago. He assumed the only reason people ever chased the creatures was to fill their pride.

That was the exact reason Techno had joined the poacher ship three years ago. He only returned when it had crashed three months ago. To this day he has yet to reveal what horrors had gone on the ship.

Wilbur had another reason to go after the infamous creatures. His crave for knowledge was eating him up as was for most scientists. He joined the Dream Team Craft only six months ago and was already heading back to the SBI Craft.

Techno was pacing around the marketplace studying different weapons and supplies. Phil had been standing off to the side, leaning on one of the building walls. Every once and a while he would check his communicator to see where Wilbur was. Thankfully he had turned on his location so Phil could easily watch as he made his way through the maze-like market.

“Is he getting close?” Techno asked running low on patience.

“He’ll be here in two minutes or so.” Phil bit his lip, “You can head back to the ship, I don’t mind waiting for him.”

“I am not leaving you. Prime knows what Wilbur brought back this time.” Techno replied. Wilbur always had a knack for bringing back things he found interesting. This wasn’t the first time he had left the SBI Craft. This would be the 37th since he turned 14. Now he was 24 and the Craft had been designed to handle whatever he brought back. There was a holding room fit for literally any species, a mechanics room full of technology he gained an interest in. A garden and a gardener which was also retrieved by Wilbur. And of course Wilbur’s pride and joy, the laboratory.

“If you want mate..” Phil said, shaking his head.

Not even two minutes later he saw Wilbur coming from the middle of the crowd. He was carrying what looked like a hurt child.

“Well this should be interesting.” Techno mumbled as he spotted Wilbur.

Once the phantom saw them he strode over and they made their way over to him.

“What do you have this time mate?” Phil asked, curiosity filling him to the brim with questions.

“Someone I can’t explain till we get to the ship.” Wilbur states with a tone he had never heard from his son.

After a second of standing awkwardly they had come to a silent agreement to head to the ship.

It took less than five minutes. Wilbur was half sprinting to the lab before Techno’s assistant had even registered that Wilbur was back. Phil gave a quick greeting to the gardener and assistant before following Wilbur to the medical part of the lab. He almost fainted when he saw what was laying on the medical bed.

“I know it looks bad, but I couldn’t help myself.” Wilbur said apologetically, “I know you’re gonna want answers but I really don’t have a lot of time before serious damage is done to him. I’ll explain after I fix him up.” He glanced up with a face full of sincerity.

Phil sighed pushing aside any fatigue and collecting his thoughts. “How can I help?” He states without an ounce of shown-fear in his voice.

Wilbur took a moment before answering. Prime the silence was loud. “Keep everyone out of the lab, and set up another room.. that would be great.” Wilbur said. The worry in his voice was apparent, but Phil said nothing of it. Instead he started on the tasks that came with being the captain of the craft.

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He woke up to LED lights blinding him. Tommy blinked a bit before sitting up.

He was sitting on what appeared to be a hospital bed. An IV was attached to his wrist and there were strange alien restraints attached to his legs but not to his wrists. That would be a mistake if he knew how to take the sticky black cuffs off. Which he didn’t. Plus he was too weak to attempt.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and looked around. The bed was pushed into the back corner directly across from a window. There was no glass or plastic covering the window, only a shiny force-field looking thing. The window also was the length of the wall. To the right of the window was a little slot and shelf, clearly used to deliver food. To the left of the window was a place for a door. The only thing was there was no visible door, just more of the light blue painted wall. To the left of the space was a bunch of shelves with a bunch of weird toys, games, books, and puzzles. Across from that was a card table and two comfortable chairs. At the end of the bed was a bench looking thing in which the lid lifted up.

All in all the room was clearly used to keep people occupied while keeping a close eye on them. The inhabitants of the ship had prepared it so it could withstand most things. The furniture in the room had been nailed to the floor. The chairs could move either closer or farther from the table with whoever was sitting down using a strange contraption. None of the toys on the lower shelf could be eaten and all games and puzzles were on higher shelves. The books were also all hard covered. There were even plastic bookmarks in a small container next to the shelves. The window was clearly impossible to get through and looked like it would absorb whatever you threw at it. The food shelf had three mechanisms that wouldn’t be easy to get through. There were no vents or places to hide. It was very apparent they had done this sort of thing before.

The last thing Tommy looked for was a light switch. By some sort of luck he spotted it. It was a weird sort of dial thing that was right by the IV stand. It was currently at 100 and he then dialed it down to 35. It was dim enough to sleep but bright enough to see everything clearly. Not even five minutes later he fell into a deep sleep.

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“YOU BROUGHT A HUMAN?!” Tubbo yelled, fluttering his wings furiously, making him hover ever so slightly.

Ranboo swiftly put his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder pushing him back onto the ground. The enderian shifted anxiously making Techno ponder if he was also gripping Tubbo to keep himself grounded. Phil stood near Will expectantly. Wilbur shifted from foot to foot and rubbed his arm, yet kept his head up to look at everyone. Techno was leaning against his security desk, side eyeing the now asleep human.

“I knew you were stupid, I just didn’t know you were this stupid.” Techno stated without a hint of remorse. Wilbur scoffed before attempting to collect himself.

“I couldn’t just leave him there! It was a mission built for researching humans. Meaning they would be doing nasty experiments for prime knows how long!” Wilbur snapped, with a seriousness Techno hadn’t seen since Wilbur brought back the other children on the ship, “He is a kid. Not an adult that had nowhere to go and was doing prime awful things. He is a kid with no family, no home, and barely making it through the day. I read through his file and he has gone through awful shit. I wasn’t gonna let him die in misery too. If you don’t want him on the ship, then I will get myself my own ship.” Wilbur threatened with a tone not to be questioned. Techno took a moment to think through Will’s response before coming up with an answer.

“He can stay. As long as you keep him in line and take care of his rations. He is not to leave his room until we make sure he can do no damage. If anyone wants to visit him, you are either outside the window or I am present. No excuses.” Techno finished satisfied with his answer. Phil may have been the legal captain of the ship, but when it came to rules Techno was always the one to make them.

Phil nodded in agreement. The two children nodded aggressively, both of which clearly had no intention of going near the human’s holding cell. After a minute Wilbur nodded.

“Fine. If those are the rules I will comply.” Wilbur said, “I need to adjust some things, I will assume Techno will be coming with me?” He asked reluctantly.

“Yes.” Techno bluntly said.

“So be it.” Wilbur snapped. Techno just brushed it off as they headed towards the lab cells.

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Tommy was running through the forest on the edge of town.

It was his favorite trail and the only one his parents let him go on alone. Which cost a long series of promises and supplies he had to go with.

Usually he would be running on the trail for fun but this time it was a sprint home. He didn’t know what was wrong but he knew something was wrong. Especially when he saw the blue and red lights light up the evening sky.

“I didn’t do anything you bastards!!” His dad yelled over the sirens. They had him in cuffs repeating the Miranda rights to him as they pushed him into the back seat.

“What’s going on?” All Tommy could manage his throat was tight and he was struggling to hold back angry tears. He caught one of the officers' attention. She smiled softly.

“He got caught doing something bad to his wife.” She said sadly.

“What did he do?!” Tommy cried even louder this time tears slipped down his face. At this point the officer got more serious.

“I am not obligated to say.” She bit her lip before continuing, “Why don’t you go back to your parents?” She replied softly. This was the first time Tommy got angry, not annoyed or that childish angry. The kind of anger that makes you wanna burn the world down. It was a quick flash but enough to make him snap.

“You took my dad…. What did he do to my mom?” Tommy answered coldly. His answer clearly shook the officer.

“Aw kid, I- .. I am sorry.. he killed her.” Tommy already knew the answer. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. He heard someone scream from far away. Maybe it was him, maybe someone else. They pushed him through a series of questions all of which he could barely answer. His mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t calm down. Everything was too much.

He woke up in a cold sweat. Tears were running down his face. His breath was rapid and uneven. He hadn’t had a dream like that for a couple of months, granted he barely slept. After a few shaky breaths he calmed himself enough to grasp where he was. He wiped the tears just in time for the spot where the door was to open.

In stepped Wilbur along with a really tall alien. The tall alien stood in front of the door as Wilbur rushed to Tommy’s bed. Tommy lost control of his breathing, barely calming down.

Wilbur grabbed his hands to which Tommy snapped his head towards the alien. “I want you to breathe with me okay?” Wilbur said softly. He moved Tommy’s hand to his chest and started taking deep breaths. After a minute Tommy managed to even his breath to Wilbur’s pattern. “Good, good. I am gonna take off your IV since you don’t need it anymore. After that I can get you some food and water, then we can talk alright?” Wilbur said, keeping his tone soft and slow. Tommy rubbed his eyes and nodded.

Wilbur took his arm, there was a small pinch then the IV was off. Wilbur quickly left and came back after about two minutes. Within those two minutes Tommy got a better look at the other alien.

The alien had light pink ruff skin with neat pink hair tightly braided. They were wearing a puffy cream shirt that was tucked into dark brown pants, which were tucked into black boots that went up to their knees. Their knees bent backwards and the boots were shaped weirdly, like they were built for hooves. They had hooves where their hands would be, that somehow had thumbs. They also had tusks poking out of their mouth. Along with blood red eyes that had white pupils. Their ears poked out of their hair and were both torn and pierced with gold earrings. They also had a gold chain necklace with a stone that resembled an Emerald. They also wore a black belt with a gold clip. Attached to the belt was an alien sword leaning against their right hip, on the other side was what resembled a gun.

Tommy swallowed down food that was threatening to come up. He waited patiently for Wilbur to come back, trying his hardest not to stare at the other alien.

“My name is Techno. He/him. Same with Wilbur and most of the crew. The only one who has other pronouns is Ranboo who goes by he/they.” Techno, stated bluntly. Tommy collected himself before responding.

“I am Tommy Innit, er- he/him.” Tommy finished with a shaky voice.

Luckily the awkward tension didn’t last long as Wilbur practically sprinted through the door, shoving Techno out of the way. He pulled a tray that was neatly folded out of the wall and put a glass of water and some food on a plate.

“Some parskey with hatatoes. It tastes good I promise.” Wilbur explained. He then went to grab something he left outside and sat at the card table. He put two plates down and Techno joined him. The door closed after that. There was no button or anything, it just closed. Tommy was a little baffled by it but looked towards the food put in front of him.

It was a white meat, similar to chicken, with a brown version of mashed potatoes. He looked over to the other two who were talking in a different language while eating the same food. With that Tommy decided it was okay to eat. Just like what it reminded him of, it tasted like chicken and mash potatoes with small differences. Like the meat was dryer and more salty and the potatoes were a little sour. Either way it was still good. He then drank the water. There was no odd taste this time so he assumed it wasn’t drugged.

Once he finished he attempted to listen in but was only met with a series of strange sounds. He gave up and pushed the tray away. Almost too quickly he fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t even notice when the visitors took their stuff and left.

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Ranboo poked at his food glancing up every once and awhile. The two crew members had returned from the human’s room and decided to finish their food with the rest of the crew. Everyone sat in a tense silence.

“So,” Phil clapped his feathered hands and turned towards Wilbur. “What do we know about the kid?” He asked.

“His name is Tommy Innit, pronouns he/him. He is 14 and was living on the run for six months. No family according to him and he’s allergic to nuts.” Wilbur answered.

“From what I can tell he isn’t super dangerous, just fearful. He already trusts Wilbur, somehow. Though I think it is due to Wilbur saving his life. It will be harder for the rest of us to gain his trust.” Techno added. Ranboo swiftly wrote the responses down, making sure to keep major notes.

The rest of dinner was uneventful and everyone awkwardly washed dishes and went to bed. Assumingly to sleep. Everyone except Ranboo that is. He couldn’t wash dishes due to his biology and he didn’t really sleep. Every time he tried the void would wake him up or he would go into a half-conscious state that the crew deemed as enderwalking.

So for what felt like the hundredth time they stayed awake laying in bed. This time however their mind was racing with thoughts. Traveling through situations that used to seem impossible before the human boarded the ship. Still curiosity was eating their insides.

With a half made up mind Ranboo shot up in bed. They stalked over to where the human was being held and peered into the window.

Almost instantly the human sat up. After yawning and getting into a position he was comfortable in he just stared at Ranboo making them incredibly uncomfortable.

“Who are you?” The human asked, Ranboo couldn’t remember his name.

“Oh! Uh, I am Ranboo.. I am kinda like an assistant, I-I guess.” Ranboo said, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Ah cool. I am the biggest man! Tommy Innit. You should be grateful to be in my presence.” The human practically flowed with confidence making Ranboo question if all humans were like this. He shook off the questions and turned back to the human who was now playing with the light monitor.

“So… what was your planet like?” Tommy asked, startling Ranboo a bit. “I-I mean you don’t have to answer of course.. just wondering..” the human stuttered. They took a moment to go through their thoughts, narrowing down what they could.

“I guess it was peaceful.. in a way.. no one really fell out of line. It was unified, creating a peaceful haven. It wasn’t like people couldn’t fall out of line it’s just they didn’t want to. M-most of them were content with the way they were… but if there was something wrong they would absolutely take any measure to destroy it.” Ranboo finished bitterly, trying to shake off his old hurt of how they treated him. “W-what about your planet?” Ranboo asked.

“Ah.. Earth is interesting to say the least… We don’t all follow the same rules. And there is a lot of falling out of line… But I guess that’s what gave it a certain charm and a certain aspect that made it brutal.” Tommy finished his serious tone melting in an instant, “But that’s there not here! I wanna know what everything is like.” He said looking at Ranboo with curiosity.

That’s how Ranboo created a bond with the strange blond creature. They bounced from topic to topic mainly ending with one of them going into a deep explanation of one thing or another. They talked until both of them ended up passing out sitting next to the window.

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Chapter 3- End

Words- 3,212

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Techno- “Don’t go near the human without my presence.”

Ranboo- ._.

Ranboo- Ima do it... >:p

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(That was a bad one but oh well..)

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End Notes: I got carried away a bit... I have a few more filler chapters before we start actually getting into the plot.. also after this should I start a super hero AU?

Ignore minor mistakes... I did reread through it this time so there shouldn’t be too many...

As always likes are nice but reblogs are better! Please share this with people of you enjoyed, I hope you did!

Go get some water, sleep, eat food, and stay safe!! Love y’all <3

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Chapter 4:

#dream smp fanfiction #tommy mcyt #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #philza #techno #sbi au #alien au #my fanfic tag #my writing #reblog