#lifeline came in clutch with that third party

[ovvca]

give that boy a hug! he deserves it

#lifeline came in clutch with that third party #apex legends #apex legends octane #apex legends lifeline #octane #octavio silva #lifeline #ajay che #apex legends legacy #apex #apex legends fanart

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of my League [Part 6]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: JJ gives you some bad news and Spencer feels like he’s only making matters worse. For both of you.

Warning(s): Angst, mentions of grief and death, allusions to relapse, swearing, mentions of drinking, this is lowkey a mess so i may have missed a couple of warnings

Author’s Note: IT’S HERE!!!! YAY!!! that’s the happiest you’re gonna be all chapter. The next one may take a bit of time and i am SORRY for that because this may or may not have a sorta cliffhanger you should just read it to find out!! also heads up there are a lot of perspective changes later on please just imagine how it would be cut together in a movie that’s how i wrote it OK ENJOY DON’T BE MAD JUST TRUST ME OK??

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

Washington, D.C., 2011

(Reader POV)

You’d gone to three different funerals since moving to D.C. Three more than you would have liked, obviously, no one ever really wants to go to a funeral.

The first had been your father’s. You had Jamie and your mom, but you needed Spencer. He was out on a case and you couldn’t blame him for not being there, but he made up for it a million times over. Your dad’s death wasn’t unexpected, and while it hurt to say goodbye, it was relatively easy to move on.

The second had been for Aaron’s ex-wife, Haley. You didn’t really know her, but Aaron was your friend and you wanted to support him. That and Jamie got along very well with Jack, acting almost as an older cousin, and you know how important family is when you lose a parent.

The third and most recent funeral was the worst one: Emily’s. She was there one day, raring to go and take on the world, gone the next. 

The day you found out was just terrible. JJ had called you herself to tell you. You managed to stay calm until you hung up, when you practically threw your phone onto the kitchen table and collapsed into a chair, tears pouring down your face as silent sobs wracked your body.

Jamie ran in at the sound of you crying, “Mom? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You shook your head, unable to speak. Jamie wordlessly wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you as you struggled to regain your voice. When you could finally breathe and relay the news you just received, you choked out, “Aunt Emily died last night.”

Then Jamie started crying too. He curled up into your shoulder and sobbed into your shirt, soaking you to the skin, almost like he was little again. You crumbled at the sound of his whines and cries. Every part of your chest ached with the weight of your grief. 

“What happened to her?” He finally whimpered.

“She has a dangerous job,” You didn’t even notice the tense you used, “A bad man was after her.”

“Well, is everyone else okay? What about Uncle Derek? What about Doc—”

“Everyone else is fine, baby, no one else was hurt. Doc’s fine.”

You sat still for God knows how long, silent, clutching each other like a lifeline, praying this was all just a dream and that you’d get a call from Emily telling you it was all some sick joke. Of course, you’d be furious with JJ, but at least there wouldn’t be a hole in your family where Emily had once been. 

Your mother came over to help you cook, the same role you had taken years prior while your father was sick. She consoled you and Jamie for the next two days and then drove you to the funeral. You got out of the car and walked in silence to the church, clutching Jamie’s hand as you entered. 

Aaron was the first at the door. He wasn’t one for hugs, but when he saw you, exhausted and barely standing, he pulled you and Jamie in tight. The hug was brief, but it helped, God, did it help. Dave was just behind him, and he didn’t hesitate. He ruffled Jamie’s hair and gave you a kiss on both cheeks. JJ was holding Henry in the corner, and Will gave you a weak smile. Derek and Penelope were holding one another, both shaking as they cried. Your grip on Jamie’s hand grew tighter, tighter, tighter until you saw him.

You then dropped Jamie’s hand as you ran over, arms open wide as your son followed close behind, “Spence--”

He returned your hug instantly, burying his face in your hair, “I’m sorry I didn’t call--”

You felt Jamie join the hug, but you kept your head buried in Spencer’s chest, “No, I’m sorry too, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Me neither.” He pulled away, wiping away some tears and sniffling, “I’ve just been holed up in my room reading Vonnegut all for the past three days.”

Of course, “What books?”

“Mostly Slaughterhouse-Five, it was her--”

“Her favorite,” You nodded as you spoke the last part in unison with him.

“Yeah. I read it out loud just…” His voice cracked and the words looked painful to get out, “Just in case she could hear me.”

Your heart broke imagining him wrapped in blankets, eyes rimmed red as they glazed over the worn-out pages. You ached at the thought of his voice cracking just as it did before as he read for hours and hours, begging the universe to let Emily hear him, “She did. And she loved it.”

“I just hope she didn’t realize I was crying,” he muttered, and it shattered you, “She wouldn’t want us to cry for her.”

“You’re right, but I know she’d be unbelievably offended if we didn’t cry just a little bit,” Spencer’s tearful smile was enough to make you feel slightly better. There was still hope.

Your mom took Jamie home after the wake, knowing that you needed time with the team to feel like a person again. You went home with Spencer. He shouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

“You’re really good at taking care of me,” he smiled weakly, sipping the tea you made for him.

“Yeah, I had a good teacher.” Your mother was always there when you lost someone. You had your ups and downs, but she was a good mom.

“Does it get easier? Losing someone?”

“No. It always hurts just as bad,” you sigh, “But moving on used to be a lot harder.”

“Do you still miss him?”

“Of course I do, but less than I used to.” You still talked to your dad sometimes, something you did as a kid when he wasn’t home, just telling him about your day or narrating what you were doing. Even after all these years, you still found yourself explaining to no one that you had to run to store and buy bread to make Jamie’s lunch.

“I see little pieces of him everywhere I go. Jamie has the same exact smile. His favorite book when he was little was the same one my dad read to me. No one ever really leaves. Family, friends, they stick with us.”

“I’ve never lost a friend before. When Gideon left, I knew he was out there. Same with Elle. I could have Garcia find them right now and call them up to see how they’re doing, but Emily--” his voice cracked too much for him to want to continue, so he dropped it altogether.

“Did I ever tell you about my college roommate, Juliet?”

“No.”

“We were best friends. We did everything together: Movie nights, parties, all that. The night of our last final senior year, we decided to go clubbing to celebrate.”

You told him the whole story. The drinking, the dancing, the guy. You don’t remember his name, but you remember trusting him. He was sweet and Juliet liked him, so when she came to you at the bar after dancing with him telling you she was going home with him, you let her.

“I was happy for her! She had just gone through a breakup a few months before, so it was nice to see her getting some,” you let out a weak laugh, “I remember the last thing I said before she left was ‘Okay, have fun, call me in the morning, we’ll get brunch. I love you.’” Spencer winced, almost as if he knew where this story was going. Given his line of work, he was expecting far worse, but he at least knew that we didn’t get lunch the next morning.

“I went home a little bit later, I got bored, so I got a taxi home.”

You close your eyes and sigh deeply, “I’m in the back seat when I get a call. It was Juliet’s phone.”

“She wasn’t calling you, was she?”

“No, it was the police. Juliet didn’t have a good relationship with her parents, so I was her emergency contact.” You had to plan the funeral, invite her parents, look them in the eye and lie to them that Juliet wanted to make amends with them. The horrified guilt on their faces almost made it worth it, “The car she was in got t-boned when the guy ran a red light. He wasn’t as sober as we thought he was.”

“She didn’t make it.” Spencer guessed for you.

“No. She was dead before they got her out of the ambulance.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If Juliet hadn’t…” You still couldn’t bring yourself to actually say it, “I wouldn’t have moved home, I wouldn’t have gotten back with Kyle, and I wouldn’t have Jamie. I don’t wanna tell you that something good will come out of this, because that’s a horrible thing to hear, but looking for an opportunity to find something good can’t hurt.”

“I can’t just look for something new when all i can think about is how I should have been able to help!”

“You really think I didn’t blame myself for what happened to Juliet? That every night for years after I thought I could have done something differently, and sure, I could have, but it’s not like I knew what was going to happen, and I couldn’t keep blaming myself.”

“It’s not the same, you don’t get it.” His fingers ghosted over old scars on his forearms, scars you didn’t want to think about where they came from.

“I do, Spencer. Emily was my friend too. And because she was my friend, I know she would never let you blame yourself for it. She knows you can’t save them all. All we can do is save ourselves,” you took his hand in yours, he still tensed up, “‘cuz that’s all the people we lose want us to do.”

He turned his head up from the floor and met your eyes. Once you gazed into those deep hazel irises, the tension in his hand melted away. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a deep breath, squeezing your hand like a lifeline, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Spence.”

“I’m sorry for snapping.”

“You apologize too much.” You had nearly forgotten exactly what he said to you that night in the hotel bar in Vegas all those years ago, but clearly, he hadn’t, he couldn’t, and he didn’t, because after a few moments of staring into your eyes and slowly drifting towards you in peaceful silence, he closed the gap between you both and kissed you.

Spencer Reid was kissing you.

This was happening.

Nearly two decades of being friends--

Years of being totally, ridiculously, and most importantly, cluelessly in love with each other, Spencer Reid was kissing you. You were almost so overjoyed at that moment as you started to kiss him back that you nearly forgot that your friend was dead and you were supposed to be comforting him. This wasn’t comfort, this was what Kyle did to you all those years ago.

You broke the kiss before he did something he’d regret, “Spence…”

“Oh my god,” he removed his hands from your face and shifted his entire body away from you, “I’m so sorry.” 

“No, don’t-”

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot!” He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands as his hands landed at the back of his neck, forcing his head to stare in his lap.

“No you’re not! Hey. Genius. Look at me.” He didn’t. “You’re not. You’re just in a bad place, I get it.”

“No you don’t. This time, you don’t.”

“What do you m—”

“Look, I don’t wanna kick you out but I really think you should leave.”

“Oh… yeah… sure… okay.” You slowly rose from the couch on weak knees. Whether it was from adrenaline or anxiety, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be! Just… please, take care of yourself?” You glance around the room for your belongings, “Shower, eat something, get some rest, please. And call me if you need anything--”

“Y/N, please, just go.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as you reached for the doorknob. You turned your head just enough to look over your shoulder to say, “Goodnight, pretty boy,” before you left. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, breathing heavily. 

           (Spencer’s POV)

Why was I kicking her out?

Why was I telling her to leave?

Why was I pushing her away?

Why did I kiss her?

Why did she push me away?

Why did she call me “pretty boy?” She never--

The pieces fell into place as they often do, all at once with the force of a car slamming into a pole at fifty miles per hour. 

“Goodnight, Pretty Boy.”

“Goodnight, Princess.”

She remembered that night.

She remembered that night when I drove her home and put her to bed and--

And I told her I had a crush on her in high school.

And I almost said I loved her.

And I almost kissed her then.

God, I wish I had. Any time would have been better than now.

          (Reader POV)

You didn’t know you could miss someone so much while they were behind just one door. You could’ve turned around right then and knocked and waited for him to be ready to talk about what just happened. About him kissing you. About you kissing back. About you stopping him. About that drunken night when you let it slip how pretty you thought he was.

You should’ve just waited.

But you couldn’t stand to be that close to him while he wanted to be as far away from you as possible.

So you ran.

You practically sprinted down the stairs and out of his building as quickly as you could, getting in your car and pulling out of the parking lot and getting the fuck away before you hurt anyone else, including yourself.

          (Spencer POV)

I couldn’t just let her walk out like that.

I had to say something.

I had to go after her.

I had to get her back.

I needed her.

But when I opened the door, it was like she had never been there. 

I leaned on my door frame staring at the staircase down the hall, wishing I had the energy to run after her, to catch her before she reached her car, to stop her from driving away, to tell her I was sorry, to beg her to please, please, come back upstairs and talk to me, but my feet were fixed to the floor and my legs were weak. I just closed my door with my back and slid down to the floor, unable to bring myself to cry anymore. I sat there for god knows how long until I found the energy to crawl over to the coffee table where I had left my phone, picked it up, and dialed a number.

          (Reader POV)

You jumped slightly at the sound of your phone ringing, you shuffled through your bag in the passenger seat, desperately trying to find it before the light turned green. Some foolish part of your mind told you it was Spencer, you wished it was Spencer, you wanted nothing more than to turn your car around and talk it all out with him, tell him you were sorry, that you loved him, that you needed him, but your heart sank when you looked at the screen and saw the number.

It was a just fucking spam call.

You threw your phone back in your seat and beat your fists against the steering wheel, groaning and wishing the fucking light would just turn green already. When it finally did, you slammed on the gas a bit too quickly, sending the car jolting forward. You barely stopped the entire rest of the ride home, the universe must have sensed your impatience. As you finally pulled into your driveway, your skull felt as though it was packed with cotton, your tear tracks drying on your cheeks.

You raced up the steps to your door, fussing with the keys and trying to unlock the door as quickly and quietly as possible. You inevitably made noise as you entered, prompting a light to turn on in the living room. Your mom rose from the couch she had been sleeping on, her face dropping from annoyed to concerned.

“Toots, you’re home already? I thought you wouldn’t be back until morning.”

You had thought that you were fresh out of tears, but apparently, you still had more to spare, seeing as you broke the second the words left her mouth.

“Oh my, what happened?” She raced towards you, wrapping you in a hug, “Is Spencer okay? Did something happen?”

As confused and sad as you were, you couldn’t stop the smile that had suddenly appeared on your face, “He kissed me.”

“He what?” She broke the hug, holding your face in her hands and wiping tears off of your cheeks, “Then honey, why on Earth are you here?”

          (Spencer POV)

“You kicked her out? Why?”

“Why do you think I called you, Jennifer? What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“Well, what exactly happened?”

“I freaked out, she came over, we talked, I,” I took a deep breath and braced myself for her reaction, “I kissed her—”

She almost choked on her coffee, “And you didn’t lead with that? Don’t you think that’s a little important?” 

“I was trying to avoid reliving it for as long as possible.”

“You’ve wanted this since high school, why wouldn’t you want to relive it?”

“She pulled away.” There was no anger or sadness behind my words. I don’t sound hurt as I recount the scene, “She took my hand, I kissed her, she stopped me.”

JJ’s hand brushed over my shoulder and I flinched away slightly.

“I apologized immediately, she wasn't mad or anything, I just…” I trailed off, unable to admit that I just couldn’t look at her anymore. I never thought I’d get tired of seeing her face, but I had needed her to leave. When she pulled away, all I could think about was the sound of Alexa Lisbon sneering at me as Kyle and his goons tied me to that goal post.

“She wanted to help me, and I know she did, but…”

“She couldn’t.” JJ finished my sentence.

I shook my head, “Not this time.”

“But now you want her to come back?”

“And I don’t know how to tell her that because I fucked up.”

“What did she say after you told her to leave? Did she just go?”

          (Reader POV)

“I told him not to feel bad and to take care of himself.” You hadn’t had time to tell him how much you wanted to kiss him but neither one of you was in the right state of mind for that. 

“Right, yeah, and did he say anything else?”

You winced at the memory of how his voice sounded. “He kept telling me to leave, so I just went for the door and said--”

          (Spencer POV)

“‘Goodnight, pretty boy,’” I grumbled, “That was the last thing she said.”

“Okay?”

“She never calls me Pretty Boy.” I told her the whole story. When I was done, her eyebrows were drawn together and lips were pressed together in a thin, worried line uttering, “Spence…”

“What?”

She sighed, saying nothing and smirking slightly to herself, but saying nothing.

“Jennifer.”

“She loves you, genius.”

“Then why’d she leave?”

“Because you told her to. And…” she hesitated, almost scared to say anything else. I was scared to hear it. JJ took my coffee away and dumped it down the sink, a silent indicator that I had enough and needed to go to bed.

She turned back to me and leaned over the table again, making sure I'd look her in the eyes, “She’d do anything for you.”

I just stared down on my hands on the table, unable to say another word, unable to defend myself, unable to fight anymore.

Because I knew she was right.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa​ @ellvswriting @baby-pogue​ @purelyprentiss​ @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13​ @deni-gonzalez​ @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts​ @bisoner​ @moonstarrnghtsky​ @smurfflynn​ @eldahae​ @t0xicllama​ @undeniablyyou​ @staplernpaper​ @theweirdobella @sammypotato67 @k-k0129 @helloniallslovelies @dazzlingnights @uhuhuh​ @booksarekindaneat @crimeshowtrash @carlgrxmes @collectiveuniverses @annesauriol

#spencer reid #Criminal Minds Reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #CM #cm fan fiction #cm imagine #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg x reader #mgg smut #mgg #mgg angst #spencer reid angst

[yodawgiherd]

You Were Never Truly Gone ch.3

>>>Read on AO3<<<

The support I'm getting is blowing me away, thank you again, everyone <3 Let's get high on that copium together.

They stared at him.

He stared at them.

Mikasa stared at nothing in particular, her happy smile and blush speaking for themselves.

Returning from its quick trip to the see, the bird landed on that tree and turned its head, intently watching the red fabric wound around the woman’s neck. There had to be a way to peck at it again.

In the end, Jean lost it.

“Of course, this makes perfect sense.”, he blurted, “Three years, three fucking years you are dead and the first thing we see Eren doing is this – cramming his tongue down Mikasa’s throat. I mean…”

A cuff from behind silenced him, Pieck whispering.

“Not the time for this, Kirstein.”

Armin’s will snapped next. Unable and unwilling to talk, he crossed the distance in three long steps practically crashing his weight into Eren’s chest. The former enemy of humanity staggered backward but managed to stay up straight until a second person joined in on the pile. Jean’s weight was too much to bear, quickly followed by Connie’s, and Eren fell, for the second time that day, landing on his back with yet another pained grunt.

His fingers slipped out of Mikasa’s grip as he toppled, and she took a step back to watch them roll around on the grass, her smile widening. Mechanically, mind completely wiped, Pieck lit up a cigarette, then second, then third until she realized what she was doing, frowning at her treacherous hands. A single, fat bead of sweat ran down Reiner’s brow when the realization was dawning at him, his eyes staring at what his brain refused to believe.

The devil of Paradis drew breath, Eren Yeager was alive. Alive and currently being squished by three of his closest friends. This was a nightmare. With an expression of pure terror, Reiner turned to Pieck.

“What the hell do we do?”

And Pieck, the smart Pieck, Pieck who was always exactly right as Zeke used to say, shrugged helplessly. Two more, and now there were five burning cigarettes crammed between her lips, a faint attempt at having the nicotine rush calm her hammering heart, puffing like a chimney. It did not work.

“I can’t believe this.”, a voice from the pile of bodies, most likely belonging to Connie, “You’re back!”

An incoherent mumble that was most likely Eren, muffled by everyone on top of him. It was ignored.

“I thought I’d ever say this,”, Jean added, “but I’m happy to see you, blockhead.”

Not even a peep from Armin and Annie was having a funny feeling, watching the man she agreed to marry hug another man with an expression of pure bliss. On and on it went and Eren would probably perish if Mikasa didn’t rescue him, as she did so often. Gently yet firmly she pulled Connie off with one hand, Jean with the other, and Eren was finally able to breathe again.

Sitting up, he eyed the two members of the party who were watching him with mixed emotions.

“Reiner, Pieck.”

All of the cigarettes fell on the grass, Pieck stomping them out on a reflex. The blonde head next to her was shaking in continued denial.

“This can’t be happening.”, Reiner disagreed with the reality, “Not like this…”

Sensing the change in atmosphere Armin let go and Eren was free to regain his footing. Dusting himself off, the usurper stood up.

“I’m afraid that it is. I’m here.”

“How?”

A sidelong glance to Mikasa from Eren.

“It’s a long story….”

“Well, it’s not like we are leaving without hearing it.”, Annie said, “The sooner you start the sooner you finish.”

Once again intertwining his fingers with Mikasa’s, Eren linked them together, the bond giving him both strength and confidence. And here, under the tree and next to his own grave, he told them everything. His death and what followed, the never-ending search among founder’s memories to locate his, the terrible pains Eren went through to put the pieces of his person back together. Thousand times he died and thousand times he pushed through it, filled with nothing but will to move forward. The determination that he drew from Mikasa, from how much he wanted to be with her. The fear that he might be left forever in the collapsed paths, and the incredible joy he felt once his eyes opened on the trampled field – the site of the last battle.

“You are saying that you didn’t regenerate?”, Reiner’s eyes flew to the grave, inspecting the undisturbed surface.

“No, I was given a new body, that’s it.”, Eren tapped his chest, “I lost all my powers, just as you guys, I’m a regular human being now.”

“That does not matter.”, Pieck interjected, “You are alive, it changes everything.”

“And that is a huge problem.”, Reiner’s voice was weak, weak and tired.

Everything they worked for, everything they tried so hard to achieve was at risk now. The fragile peace would shatter into millions of pieces the second Eren came back, and the war would consume the remnants of the civilization. Tired, so tired from fighting, scared, terrified that the nightmare was not over, Reiner let the heavy words fall from his lips.

“Eren Yeager must stay dead. He can’t be allowed to live.”

What happened next was a blur. In a fraction of a second, Mikasa moved forward, stepping in front of Eren and shielding him with her body. Ice, pure ice appeared in her eyes as she rammed those freezing spikes into Reiner, her voice being the most threatening thing the group ever heard in their lives.

“Try it.”

Trauma is an interesting thing. Reiner had it under control lately, his panic attacks and helplessness weakening with the years following the war’s end. But now, they came back in full force when he was confronted by the image of protective Mikasa Ackerman in all her glory, defending the man who gave him nightmares. No ODM, no blades, not even a uniform, she was dressed in a pink skirt and white shirt, yet she was the most terrifying thing that Reiner ever saw in his life – not to forget, the man has been through the rumbling. His first impression of her, during their training years and later, was a flying demon that put his titan to shame. Later he discovered the other part of Mikasa, the beautiful and tortured young woman that was so incredibly caring and sad, coming to terms with the loss of the love of her life. Now the demon was back, even more terrifying than before, because she just regained the most important person in her life and that joy was threatened.

“Try and take him from me.”, she hissed, and Reiner no longer had the armored titan to protect him.

With a sound of pure terror he fell, raising a hand as if to keep her away from him. Pieck tensed, Jean and Connie were frozen in place, Annie regarded everyone with an unreadable face. If there ever was a situation that needed defusing it was this one, Armin knew, so he slipped between the vengeful Mikasa and cowering Reiner, raising his hands.

“Easy, I’m sure that he didn’t mean it like that. Did you, Reiner?”

Yes, he was scared shitless, but he couldn’t give up. They had to see, they had to comprehend the risk.

“I do, think about it Armin! Think about what would happen if Yeager came back! It would completely destroy everything  we worked for!”

A flash of understanding deep in those ocean eyes and Reiner knew that he got his point across.

“I don’t care what you think, if you lay a finger on Eren…”, Mikasa’s whole body was tense, like a steel spring ready to jump, a feeling that she didn’t experience since the war.

The three years of relative peace melted away like nothing because that incredible happiness she just found, the joy that warmed her whole existence was challenged, and Mikasa would do anything to protect it. Luckily before anything could happen, Armin spoke up.

“Let’s take this somewhere else, sitting around Eren’s grave while he’s right here is creepy.”, he forced an awkward laugh, “Mikasa, you take Eren and head back to your cabin. I and the others will make a quick stop in the city, pick up some food and drinks and join you there. Hell, we must celebrate!”

It was obvious that the tension had to be broken, so no one protested. With a last dangerous look at Reiner, Mikasa walked away, hand clutching Eren’s. And Armin held, he held until they were far enough until he broke.

The grass was soft beneath him as he fell down to his knees, hands clutching his head.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”, the word was a mantra, repeated over and over as the reality truly sunk in, “This is so fucked.”

It was he who needed saving now, and Annie stepped up. Walking over to him, she pulled Armin back to his feet and then into a hug.

“It will be okay, it will be okay.”, she repeated into his shoulder, offering all the support that she could.

Behind them, Pieck helped Reiner stand while Jean and Connie exchanged a look, feeling ignored. When Annie pulled Armin back from the brink and Reiner put himself back together, the group headed back towards the civilization but this time the mood was entirely different. Armin was walking deep in thought, clutching Annie’s hand like a lifeline. Reiner’s expression was haunted, the old fears kept at bay creeping back in. Pieck patted her pockets only to find out that she was out of cigarettes, her usually cheerful smile turned upside down. Jean and Connie were the rear guards, their heads still trying to wrap around the situation. Silence, that ruled the group until they reached the edge of the city, the concrete making Armin turn.

“Guess I don’t have to tell you this, but not a word about Eren to anyone.”

There was a collective agreeing murmur.

“And about the situation…”, Armin sighed, “Reiner, you are right, him coming back is a huge issue. The second the information gets out the Yeagerists will immediately jump him, put him on the pedestal and use him to launch a crusade against the rest of the world. Mikasa is stronger than all of us, but she’s just one woman, she can’t protect him on her own. Obviously, we can’t let them have him, that cannot happen.”

He raised a finger.

“But. We are most definitely not killing Eren again, understood?”

“Yeah,”, Jean agreed, “Once was more than enough. He might be a suicidal blockhead but he’s still my f-friend.”

Yes, the last word was a stammer because Jean just called a man who killed eighty percent of the population his friend, still it was the truth, a bitter one.

“Would be easier if the Ackerman girl wasn’t so obsessed with him.”, Pieck muttered, but to everyone’s surprise was cut off by Annie.

“Obsessed? She’s not obsessed, she loves him.”, her hold on Armin’s hand tightened, “Love is beautiful.”

That shut Pieck up for now, yet her eyes were still calculating. Squeezing Annie’s hand back, Armin smiled at his fiancé before continuing.

“I will figure something out. For now, focus on the fact that our friend is alive, and we must celebrate that.”

Speech finished, Armin turned and headed towards the city, soon flanked by everyone else. After a short discussion on what do they even want to buy, Connie brought up wine, because drinking was now very high on the list of things he wanted to do. Jean was in favor of something stronger, and Pieck needed a new pack of cigarettes, so in the end the group split up, agreeing to meet in the square in half an hour.

The road ahead was treacherous, swimming in front of Connie’s eyes as he walked. Everything he knew, everything that he took for granted in those last three years was just turned upside down. A part of him was happy that Eren was back, a part of him was worried about what that might mean, and a small part of him was even angry. If Eren came back, why couldn’t Sasha? Why couldn’t Hange or Erwin? They didn’t deserve to die either…

But he couldn’t be mad at Eren. He did everything in his power to help them, to protect his friends against the cruel world, and allow Paradis to survive in the future. He even returned Connie’s mother to him, a fact that he was eternally grateful for. Still, the combination of all those feelings brought his legs back into an automatic mode, and he was entering Niccolo’s restaurant without even thinking about it.

Well, this could work, his friend always stocked some good wine.

Pushing the door open, Connie entered, seeing that there was quite a crowd inside. Not much of a surprise, as Niccolo’s place was popular. And still, the owner noticed him immediately.

“Connie!”, he shouted, pushing past his guests to hug him, “Man am I glad to see you.”

Normally, there would be a sort of ritual. They would sit down and drink, talk about what was happening, about Connie’s mission for a peaceful world and Niccolo’s restaurant he had with the Braus family. And as the bottles emptied they would end up talking about Sasha, remembering their dear comrade and crying on each other’s shoulder. But today was not such a day.

“Nicco, I’m so sorry but can I trouble you for a few bottles of wine? I need it for…”

“Mikasa.”, he understood immediately, “Today is the anniversary of his passing.”

“Is that why this place is so full?”

“Of course, Yeagerists love to celebrate.”

“Didn’t Eren get defeated today? Why are they celebrating that?”

“Eh, it's more like a promise to get revenge, a ritual in the honor of their war god to appease him.”, Niccolo rolled his eyes, “Pile of rubbish if you ask me, but their money is as good as anyone’s.”

He clapped Connie on the shoulder.

“Wait here, I’ll bring out something extra for you.”

Leaning on the counter, Connie let his eyes scan over the guests, noticing the number of uniforms. There were even some familiar faces, Hitch and Rico among others, and Connie was glad that Jean did not come here. Hitch had taken a liking to Jean lately, and it was difficult to separate her from him once she was attached.

The click of glass against wood woke him, noticing the vintage-looking bottles.

“One of my best.”, Niccolo said proudly, “Give them to Mikasa with my regards. I’ll probably drop by her cabin soon, a surprise visit with some of my homecooked food will cheer her up.”

The heart went cold in Connie’s chest, imagining what would happen if Niccolo came into Mikasa’s house and saw Eren standing there, very much alive and kicking.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”, he stammered, “I’d probably send a letter first or something, she didn’t look like she wants visitors.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks for the info, last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable.”, Niccolo’s face fell, “The poor girl suffered enough.”

Collecting the wine and thanking the cook again, Connie reunited with the others and together they walked, all the way to Mikasa’s secluded cabin. It wasn’t a short road but they were all former soldiers, easily crossing the distance even with Jean’s light complaining.

There was food on the outside table, ready to host them, but the woman who owned the place was busy. Busy with being seated in Eren’s lap on the bench, their faces pressed together. Not that Armin blamed her, they had a lot of catching up to do.

“Two minutes.”, Pieck remarked out loud, disturbing their moment, “Two minutes with no god damn kissing, is that too much to ask?”

Red-cheeked, Mikasa jumped down from Eren’s lap, yet her giddy expression quickly changed once her eyes found Reiner. Before she could terrorize him again, he held up his hands in surrender.

“Mikasa, I promise that I won’t try anything stupid, all right?”

She huffed in satisfaction and nodded, their short feud put to rest. The bottle of wine Reiner held towards her felt like a peace offering and Mikasa accepted it, pulling the cork out with her fingers alone, not having any issues. Damn.

Alcohol is truly humanity’s friend. With both the wine and the stronger stuff Jean picked up, the awkwardness and tension melted away, and Mikasa didn’t feel this relaxed ever since their drinking adventure in the refugee camp. Understandable, one could say, since the next time period was filled with literal apocalypse they had to stop. Not everyone made it, she knew, raising a glass in Sasha’s name, a toast that everyone joined. Another one was made for Hange.

And yet It was different in a better way. Eren was here, they were together, and Mikasa was free to do all the little couple things she always wanted - sitting on his lap or playing with his hair, stealing small kisses that made Pieck groan when she saw them. Mikasa was so happy that it felt like a dream. In the end, the emotional stress combined with her tiredness and Mikasa parked herself at the bench, watching her friends with a smile. It was no longer melancholic, it was no longer the feelings of a woman who was missing a huge part of herself because that part was returned, it came home. Now, it was a smile made of pure joy.

The group fell apart into smaller units, courtesy of the night slowly creeping in, and Eren joined Armin and Annie where they sat, staring into the fire.

“I believe that congratulations are in order.”, the ring on Annie’s finger glistened in the light, easily explaining what Eren meant.

“Thanks…”, Annie took a swig, her eyes not leaving Eren’s face, “I still can’t believe that you are alive.”

“Trust me, there are days when I do not believe it either.”

“Do you think that you deserve it?”, now it was Armin speaking, his voice slurred from the alcohol yet clear, “Back in the paths, you told me that you could never live with yourself, you didn’t want me to even try and bring you back. What changed?”

“You couldn’t have done anything, my body was dead and my mind was ruined by the founding titan. I had no understanding of time anymore, past, present and future blended into a mix.”, his fingers clutched the bottle tighter, “It is so terrifying for time to lose its meaning.”

Not wanting to crush the glass, Eren carefully eased his hold before continuing.

“I meant every word that I told you back then. I didn’t want to die, but it felt like the only way, I was damaged beyond repair. Only when the paths started collapsing, and all the memories began to die, I realized one thing.”, his eyes moved over to where Mikasa was sitting, “I could not let myself forget her. Ever.”

A chuckle from Annie.

“Gosh, you have it bad.”

Eren didn’t even bother with denying it, turning back to Armin instead.

“To answer your question, I still don’t think that I deserve to live. I have done things that can never be forgiven, I have destroyed this world.”

“Then why.”, Armin whispered, “Why do you live?”

“Because I was given another chance. Undeserved, but I got it, and I will not let it go to waste. War and death are the farthest things on my mind right now because I have a new goal in life.”, a tip of his bottle towards Mikasa, “I lived my first life for myself, and I will live the second one for her. There is only one thing I want, and that is making that girl the happiest that I can, every single day.”

“I’m not so sure that the world will let you do that. You may have died but your ideas went on, Eren, and not in a good way.”

“The Yeagerists?”

“Strong and growing stronger. Imagine how aggressive they would get the moment they knew that you are alive. Imagine the death and destruction your living will cause.”

“I do not want that, any of it.”

Armin gave him a tight smile.

“Sadly, that is the problem with gods. Their message can be twisted by the prophets.”

The heavy ocean gaze dropping back towards the fire, Eren understood the message and stood up, leaving the pair alone. They were right, of course, his life was bound to cause ripples, considering how important his death was. Yet there was no way in hell that he was ever leaving Mikasa alone again. As long as she would want him, he would be right there by her side. Forever.

Eren let his eyes graze over Reiner and the smoking Pieck but decided not to join them. The blond’s expression was still haunted and the girl’s guarded. They were never his friends, only enemies, they were brought together with the scouts by sheer necessity and Eren had to remember that. His return would cause a lot of trouble, and for Pieck and Reiner it was most definitely not worth it. So instead of poking the wasps' nest, Eren went over to the table where Connie was snoring with Jean at his side. The latter was watching the liquor in the bottle, frowning at the reflections, but he did look up when Eren sat down.

“Eren.”

“Jean.”

“Aah, it’s good to have you back.”

“Is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… My return must have caused quite a disturbance in your…”, Eren nodded his head towards Mikasa, “plans.”

“Do you really think so low of me?”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I was dead, and you liked Mikasa for a long time.”

“Sure, but you aren’t dead anymore.”

“Good point,”, Eren raised his bottle, “I’ll drink to that.”

A clear clink produced by the glass invaded Connie’s dreams and he mumbled something, drooling on the table. Putting his bottle back down, Jean tapped it against the wood.

“You know, I don’t feel that way anymore.”

“Is that so…”

“Or maybe I do, but it's different.”, Jean sighed, “Look, you didn’t see her, Mikasa was an incredible wreck after you died. My own heart was bleeding just from seeing her, and even after she moved on she always broke when near your grave.”

A pang of guilt in Eren’s chest, growing stronger when Jean kept talking.

“She loves you, you dumb blockhead, she loves you so much that I can’t put it into words correctly and yet you kept being an asshole to her for so long. Fuck, I want to punch you.”

“Then go ahead, I promise I won’t fight back. I deserve it.”

And Jean almost did it, but then he remembered how Mikasa reacted when Reiner only implied hurting Eren, and his hand fell back to his side. Call him a pussy, but Jean didn’t feel like dying today.

“Maybe another time.”

The bottle caught the light as Eren twirled it in his fingers, obviously putting together another sentence.

“Listen, Jean, if I didn’t come back, if I stayed dead, would you make a move on her?”

And he thought about it, long and hard, put his drunk brain to work, and came up with a plausible theory.

“I guess I would, once she would heal. Mikasa is an amazing and well, incredibly beautiful woman, and I do like her. But that is meaningless now. If there is one thing I like more than Mikasa it’s seeing her happy, and your return made her the happiest that she ever was. This thing between me and you? That was never a competition. Her eyes were only for you, bastard, a blind man would see that. ”

“Well, I guess that you could call me blind.”, Eren chuckled.

“Blind and stupid, you are lucky that Mikasa has enough brains for both of you.”, Jean gestured with his bottle, “Go, go back to her, I feel like passing out now.”

And pass out he did, head hitting the table and bottle falling on the grass. Leaving his friends to rest, Eren crossed the distance to the bench, sitting down next to the woman with a red scarf and offering her his lap, an invitation that she took and climbed into.

Together they watched the stars but didn’t sleep, lost in each other’s presence while their friends snored all around them. Armin and Annie huddled together by the embers, Jean and Connie by the table, Reiner curled on the ground and Pieck that somehow managed to fall asleep in a sitting position, a burned cigarette butt between her fingers.  The night was warm enough, there was no need to disturb their rest.

Hours passed yet Eren still didn’t feel tired, stargazing with the girl in his arms that meant more to him than all those lights in the sky combined. When the sun began to peek over the horizon, Eren broke the silence.

“Hey, Mikasa.”

She half turned in his arms, letting Eren see a part of her smile.

“Hm?”

“What am I to you?”

“Oh no,”, she giggled, shaking her head, “not this again.”

“Come on,”, nose sliding over her shoulder, Eren nudged her, “Tell me.”

It took a bit more persuasion from his side, but in the end she gave in. Fully turning on Eren’s lap, Mikasa took his face in her hands, pressing their foreheads together.

“If you need to know, then I will stand behind what I carved on the headstone.”, her lips came even closer, hot air washing over Eren’s as she spoke softly only for them to hear, “You are my most beloved, my dear.”

She kissed him, he kissed her, and everything was great until a bottle shattered on the wall, one that someone threw at them, albeit very inaccurately.

“Two. Minutes.”, Pieck groaned, “Damn you!”

The sound woke Connie up, jerking awake.

“I need to piss real bad.”

That was all he said before darting towards the forest.

The commotion eventually roused everyone, and the ragtag group had a small breakfast before saying their goodbyes.

“You know I’m super happy that you are alive, but please don’t do anything rash.”, Armin was saying, clutching Eren’s hand, “I promise that I will think of something. In the meantime, the Yeagerists can’t catch wind of you. Even worse, imagine what the rest of the world would do if they knew.”

Mikasa’s cabin was secluded, the risk was low but it was there, and Armin was feeling uneasy about this whole setup. Yet there was nothing better to be done. It would be an interesting meeting with the queen when the ambassadors were all nursing throbbing headaches, yet one does not keep Historia Reiss waiting. Apologizing for the mess they left, and Mikasa was once again alone. If one didn’t count the man that was supposed to be dead, that is.

They cleaned the bottles together, working in unison achieved by years and years of working under captain Levi. After that it was finally time to get some rest, but when Eren entered the cabin a certain fact came to the light. Mikasa had only one bedroom, as she was living alone, which presented a potential problem.

“I can take the couch.”, he offered immediately, never in his life wanting to push her into something she wouldn’t want.

All Mikasa did was tighten the hold on his hand, pulling him towards the bedroom.

“You died, came back to me, and still you want to hide behind those walls? I meant it when I said that I want to be with you, all of you, so please stop this nonsense. You claimed that you loved me, so give in to those feelings, nothing is stopping us from doing so anymore.”

It must have been the remnants of the alcohol that made Mikasa this bold, yet the slight blush was present on her cheeks anyway. That subtle pink dusting was incredibly endearing and Eren had to kiss it, making her redden even harder.

“Lead the way.”

Entranced by her graceful movements, by her ethereal beauty, Eren allowed himself to be pulled into that single bedroom, eyes only for the girl he loved so much that the feeling brought him back to life.

Literally.

#eremika #fanfic #snk #139 spoilers #copium

[ravenbrenna09]

Safe - Chapter Three

AO3

...

HAHA, I finished it. FINALLY.

I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to complete, but with presentations and tests, my schoolwork has pretty much been kicking my ass and forcing me to be unable to write or push it back (as you guys on my Tumblr know). Add that with my fucked up sleep schedule and it's only worse! But, it's okay because this chapter is finished so I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Good, maybe bad news how you see it, this story will only have four chapters! After Safe is finished, I’m going to taking a week-long break to work on other stories (specifically my Potter Siblings one, Harry and Ron have been fighting the troll for weeks) and do some more live blogging more episodes before I start on my WTFock @ Hogwarts AU. So, now that is out of the way, I hope you enjoy! 

...

His body was tired.

His mind was tired.

His hands were tired.

Sander was exhausted.

His heart was screaming at him, two conflicting thoughts resounding through his body like the beat of a drum, not the good kind, but the loud and obnoxious kind. One of his thoughts was urging him to go to sleep. His entire body screamed in exhaustion, in being tired, having worked all night, trying to drown his sadness into the worn paper of his sketchbook, sketching the same face over and over again until his hand physically hurt. 

But, the second thought, the one that had been present, lingering in the background, was now a renewed melody in the front of his mind, now that Sander had slammed into him in the lobby of his apartment complex. Robbe. Robbe and his doe-eyes and his single earring and his dimples. Part of Sander wanted to go out and find Robbe and explain, but he knew that Robbe was crushed, that Sander had been the one to do that, and…

Sander locked the door behind him, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. He tossed the bag with his cold groceries in the fridge and he placed the bag that needed to be sorted into cabinets on the kitchen counter and, somehow, he made it to the couch, collapsing down on the cushions, his body shutting down and forcing him into a restless sleep. 

Even as his body forced him into sleep, his mind kept waking him up, pulling him in and out of sleep. 

He remembered waking up to send Robbe a message, to see if he was okay, and he barely managed to hit send on the third and final message before he was slipping into his dreams again, dreaming of Robbe and his doe-eyes and his burgundy beanie and his infinite universes. He woke up to the sound of the front door opening, the image of Robbe slipping from his fingers, the voices of Amber and a man whispering to one another, but it wasn’t Estelle or a woman with brown hair so he turned around, going back to sleep. He woke up to pillows being put under his head, someone moving him so he could spread out, covering him with a blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and he mumbled out something before he was gone again, blinking in and out of sleep like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

When he woke up, for real this time, the loss of the Robbe in his dreams evident when he awoke, clutching his own leather jacket like a lifeline, the blanket on his shoulders weighed down on him and the soft light of the morning (or the evening?) was filtering through the crack in the curtains and Val was curled up in the armchair, his head resting against the back of the chair, his ash-blond hair spilling over his shoulders and sleeping peacefully. 

Sander sat up, panic filling his system. He shoved off the blanket and dropped his leather jacket on the bed and moved through the house. He searched the bedroom and the bathroom and the closets, searching but never finding her, Estelle. Val found him, peering into the closet in his spare-bedroom-turned-art-studio and letting him know he was there, letting out a yawn. “Sorry man, I didn’t realize that you had woken up. I must’ve fallen asleep myself.” 

Sander swallowed. “How long was I out?”

Val checked his watch. “A day. I was coming to bring you your jacket and I realized I didn’t know where you lived so Amber let me in. When we saw that you were passed out, I knew that something was wrong. You don’t seem like yourself and I was worried about you.”

“You should’ve woken me up,” Sander mumbled. 

“No, I shouldn’t have. You didn’t look good at the party, Sander. Hell, you left without your jacket and without saying goodbye! Who knows how cold it was driving back here on your motorcycle without at least some form of protection from the cold?” Val spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was raising his voice, like he always did when he was passionate and concerned, and Sander didn’t know what to do, running a hand through his hair, his anxiety running high. “Look, I know that there’s something going on with you and you know that I’m always able to know. But, you cannot carry the world on your shoulders, okay? You’ll just end up hurting yourself and the people around you.”

“I know,” Sander whispered, thinking of how many times he had parroted the same words to Camille, his baby sister, who used to walk around with the same thoughts in her head. 

“You know that you can talk to me, right?” 

Sander nodded his head. 

“So, what’s going on?”

Sander swallowed, looking over at his friend standing in his art room, his old childhood friend that had seen every single ugly side of Sander and had stayed with him, that was willing to accept him back into his life with open arms even after Sander had stepped away, following Britt’s wishes. And, Sander found that he couldn’t keep this from him, that he didn’t want to. “You have to promise not to tell Amber, okay?” Sander whispered and Val nodded his head. “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell my mom and that’s a face-to-face conversation that you need to have, you know?” 

Val nodded again. “I understand, Sander.”

“There’s a girl… that’s been stalking me…”  

And, so, Sander told him. He told Val about the messages that Estelle had sent, about the ones that were simply asking about his day and about the others which involved pictures or words that were inappropriate to send to someone you didn’t know. He told Val about how he and Camille had been headed to see a movie, to hang out before she went on her vacation, and returned because Sander forgot something, only to find the girl stalking him in her living room. How he managed to get a restraining order. How he saw her knocking on doors the other day.

“Have you told anyone?” Val spoke up. They had moved into the kitchen. Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, Val had been in here, taking some things out of boxes and organizing them around. Val knew how particular Sander was, so he vaguely where Sander liked things. He had set up the coffee ingredients, the ones that Sander had just been fishing out of the box to put them back, next to the coffee maker. When Sander didn’t answer, Val continued, “About her knocking on doors?” 

“I told my landlord, but I haven’t told the police yet,” Sander admitted. 

“Why not?”

“They can’t arrest her for anything,” Sander replied. “All she did was knock on some doors. And, besides, if I went to them and they go question her, she would know for sure that I live in this apartment complex and all she’ll end up doing is coming back.”

Val nodded his head, understanding. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.” He glanced over at Sander. “Is that why you ran from the party? Because you thought she was there?”

“No,” Sander replied. “I left for a different reason.” His friend’s eyes got narrow, staring at him with a confused glare, silently telling him to spill it. “Okay, okay… before I realized that she had found out that I lived in this apartment complex, I was seeing somebody.” 

The mere thought of Robbe was enough to make Sander smile. But, the image was quickly drowned, taken over by the words that he had sent to him, his mind’s own conjured image of a broken Robbe, sad and defeated all because of him. His smile disappeared and Sander bit down on his lip, the pain briefly batting away the words that flooded in his mind.

You’re toxic.

“Who were you seeing?”

Sander swallowed. “His name is Robbe. And, he came over to the apartment a few times…”

Val nodded his head. “Well, you seemed really happy for a second there,” Val noted, looking grim. “Did you guys have a bad breakup? If I had known, I wouldn’t have been all over Soph. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Sander interrupted, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. I promise.” There was a look of relief that crossed over Val’s face before it was replaced with one of concern. But, he didn’t have to ask this time for Sander to continue, “After I realized that she had found me, I had cut it off. I really like him, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him getting hurt because of me.” Val opened his mouth to respond, but Sander didn’t let him talk, adding, “But, he doesn’t want anything to do with me now. He saw me kissing that girl, Laura, and he ran out of the club.” 

“How do you know he saw you?” Val questioned. 

Sander sent him a look.

“What? It’s a valid question!” 

It was, but Sander didn’t want to admit it. “Why else would he go running from the club and leave all of his friends behind with no idea where he went?” Val seemed to nod his head, leaning against the counter. “And, besides, it’s all my fault that he got hurt.”

“Hey, you had no idea that he would’ve been in that club,” Val interrupted. 

“I should’ve.”

“Sander,” Val spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. “Stop putting so the blame on yourself! It is not your fault.”

“But, it is my fault.”

“How so?”

“I got too comfortable,” Sander admitted, feeling the tears prick his eyes. 

He was unable to look up at Val, certain that there was an exasperated look in his eyes. “Sander, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you being comfortable.” He took a step forward, closer to Sander, but he still refused to meet his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with that. 

“I got too comfortable, Val,” Sander started. He felt Val move to interrupt, but he shook his head, silently telling him not to. “No, it’s true. I got too comfortable and I wasn’t thinking. I thought that I had lost her because of the restraining order and moving away. But, I didn’t. She showed up, here, knocking on doors, and I almost put someone in danger because I got too comfortable.” 

Val let out a sigh. “Sander, look at me.” Sander raised his eyes to meet Val’s blue ones. “It’s not your fault that this girl has attached herself to you. But, you don’t need to punish yourself for something that you can’t control.” Sander wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t. “Does Robbe make you happy?”

Sander blinked. “Huh?”

“Does Robbe make you happy?” Val repeated. Sander didn’t reply right away, his mind conjuring images of Robbe in his bed, his arms and legs wrapped around Sander like a koala, and the warm fuzzy feeling, so foreign and new filling up his entire body. And, Val spoke up, only partially obliterating the image, “You might as well go ahead and say yes because I already know the answer.”

“Yes,” Sander replied, laughing lightly. 

“See? Was that so hard?” Val replied. 

“No,” Sander replied. “But, that doesn’t change anything.” Val raised an eyebrow. “Robbe, he still ran out of the club.” He glanced at his phone, which Val had brought it. There were notifications from Amber and Sophie and his mom (and Britt, he rolled his eyes), but Robbe’s name wasn’t on the screen. “He still hasn’t responded to my texts.” 

“But, he’s worth fighting for, right?” Val spoke up. “Sander, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like this… Actually, I don’t think I have. Whoever he is, he makes you happy and you deserve it.” He reached out, patting Sander’s shoulder. “You want him. You owe it to yourself to try and make this right.” 

Sander nodded his head. “I missed you, Val.” 

“I missed you too,” Val replied. “Oh, by the way, I posted on your Instagram while you were asleep because I saw that some people were commenting where you were on old photos. It was just a photo of boxes with the caption ‘unpacking’. You can check it if you want to.” Sander pulled up his Instagram account, finding the photo in question. “I’m glad I decided not to go with a window setting, but I didn’t want to post something like that without your permission.”

“Thank you,” Sander replied. “Wait, you follow me?”

Val rolled his eyes. “Of course, I do.” 

#brenna writes #safe: an unattainable spin-off #safe: sander’s pov #sander driesen pov #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #sobbe #rosander #sander x robbe #wtfock #wtfam #wtfock fic #my fic #unattainable fic related #sobbe fic #rosander fic #three out of four chapters completed

[unchosens]

The Death of Harry Potter.              ( October 31, 2024. )

The Potters hadn’t gone entirely into hiding.

Lily was still at Hogwarts, and neither Harry nor Ginny would have let her go if they’d thought there was really a danger. Still, they had asked Albus and James to move back home. Being all together felt safer, and they couldn’t deny the target on their backs. They’d increased their wards, added more complex security charms. Harry was going through a list of proposed revisions now, compiled by the Auror Department and naturally, with some heavily annotated suggestions from Hermione.

The firelight flickered, momentarily impairing his vision through his glasses, and Harry’s mind now wandered to Lily, as it often did these days.

She was probably at the Halloween feast. He smiled at the thought, remembering how much he’d always looked forward to it. It had never really been a night of sorrow for him – perhaps because for so long he hadn’t known it was the night his parents lost their lives. No, it had been about the treacle tart, the ghosts in high spirits, the carved pumpkins glowing above their heads and all of Gryffindor house alive with laughter at their table. Lily would be sitting there, unless she was at Nick’s Deathday party. A year had never gone by without Harry receiving a letter from one of his children bemoaning the invite again.

His smile faded, eyes falling back down the list. It came to him now, what he’d been forced to relive, first through the Dementors and then through the killer himself. James Potter yelling, Take Harry and go! Run! I’ll hold him off! Lily Potter, dying, her last words Not Harry! Both of them, thinking of nothing but him. For all the years he’d lived through Halloween and not thought of the first Lily and James, the ones who’d given their lives for him - as this third war began, it was impossible not to, the more his situation seemed to grow alike theirs.  

The Fidelius Charm had made it on the list again.

It had, to Harry, felt like tempting fate to use it. He and Ginny had discussed it, but the charm was safest when an occupant of the dwelling was Secret Keeper. The two of them were targets already; increasing the value of capturing one seemed foolish. Especially as neither had any intention of remaining in hiding while this war went on. Not this time – this time they weren’t going to hide but fight in the open.

And there was no question that they would allow James or Albus to be Secret Keeper. Not ever. Enough people had died for Harry. He would never let his children join that list.

At the thought of his other two children, Harry near began rolling up the parchment. He could hear the travel of uproarious laughter from upstairs. He’d been up to James’ room earlier and knew exactly what they were doing. Ginny had been in on it, sitting between Albus and James and looking like three identical mischief-makers with those wide-mouthed Weasley grins that went to Harry’s heart every time.

Pumpkin Quidditch was apparently the game of the day, as his two sons (and his wife) were presently charming the pumpkins to fly. Harry had found himself taking on the role of disapproving house husband, wondering aloud how exactly they intended to hit the ‘bludgers’ without making a mess of the whole residence, but he hadn’t been able to conceal his own amusement and desire to join in the fun. Ginny had promised to take it easy on him, her eyes daring him in that way she had, and the boys had grandly declared there’d be a game for everyone once they’d gotten the enchantments just right.

He got up, intent on joining them before moving into the living room and catching sight of Ginny, having returned downstairs.

She was flicking through the latest intelligence they’d received from the Order, her shoulders downcast. Her gaze kept returning to the staircase, where the sounds of James and Albus laughing could be heard. Harry knew that look. It was the same one he had whenever he had a quiet moment to himself.

“Ginny,” was all he said, moving to her side. It had never taken much from him to her to be understood. Their hands wove together and Harry pressed his forehead to hers.

“Tell me this is all going to end before we know it,” Ginny said, her voice quiet but not wavering. She had always been strong.  Harry’s anchor.

“It will,” he said, more firmly than his own belief warranted. Perhaps Ginny knew that trying to convince her would do more to help Harry himself than anything else. “The Order knows what we’re doing. Third time lucky, right? The bastards can’t come back again - I’m the one who returns from the dead.”

The uplift of Ginny’s mouth told him the joke wasn’t entirely unappreciated, though Harry sobered all the same.

“Lily will graduate soon. Becoming an Auror is one thing-“ that Harry was yet to entirely come to grips with for his youngest child, but Ginny knew all that, her finger gently pressing a line away on his forehead. “But I don’t want her fighting a war. And I have no illusions about what your daughter would do,” Harry said dryly, simultaneously regretful and a little proud of the fact.

“You mean your daughter,” Ginny retorted, her knowing gaze saying the same thing. They both knew Lily would throw herself on any front line for what she deemed a worthy cause.  It was come by honestly, neither parent could deny that.

That didn’t make Harry feel any better about it, and so he continued, resting his cheek on Ginny’s hand and gaining in steely resolve, “I don’t want James or Albus any more involved than they are already either. So we’ll end this. Ron, Hermione, Neville. Luna. Me. And you. You think I haven’t learnt to have faith in you yet?”

“You’d better have,” Ginny returned, a challenging look in her eyes that Harry had certainly not yet learnt to resist. He leant down to kiss her, relishing the feel of being in his wife’s arms.

It was broken by the sound of wand fire. Harry and Ginny caught each other’s glance, expressions of matching alarm.

Only the Order could find the house. And they knew to send a Patronus in first, to reassure all was well.

In a movement so fluid it seemed coordinated they each took out their wands and moved forward, towards the door at the end of the long corridor, activating the interior ward that protected the rest of the house.

The door burst open and a shroud of magic-cloaked Wraiths came inside, grappling with the ward, the repurposed dust ghost of Albus Dumbledore bearing down on them. It was a temporary protection only.

They’d faced the Wraiths enough times to recognise Dillusionment charms at work and some were so poorly constructed, Harry doubted they were intended to last this long.

As if they didn’t care if a Potter saw them and could name them later. Harry’s blood ran cold, thinking of James and Albus upstairs.

They were planning a slaughter.

He turned to his wife, the sense of clarity that Harry was so used to in times like these, when he had to act, getting stronger.

“Go! Get the boys out!” Harry met her eyes with a gaze that seemed to last hours, both of them knowing what unsaid words were contained in it. “I’ll hold them off.”

“Harry!” He’d heard her call his name so desperately once before and back then he would have done anything to respond to it. Now he could only look at her with eyes both pleading and determined. Ginny nodded. “I’ll come back,” she swore.

Her blazing look had never changed. Harry was solidified by it, grounded. There had been a time before he could have died with that look in his head. This time, it jolted him back into action. The promise of Ginny’s wand in this fight was not one he’d turn down, but for now they would both do what had to be done for their family.

She fled upstairs just in time as their assailants came towards him.

Five.

Five wasn’t good odds. But he’d been surrounded before.

A faithful Expelliarmus wasn’t going to do it this time, Harry realized grimly. He cast a Reductor Curse at the floor beneath their feet, sending their line splintering to avoid the blast. The pumpkins, he thought ruefully, would have done less damage.

Three of the Wraiths sent jets of red light and Harry barely put up a Shield in time. He was forcibly blown back by the impact but saved the pain of what was undoubtedly an Unforgivable as he re-steadied his feet.

Had Ginny and the boys had time to escape yet? Had there been more Wraiths sent upstairs? He didn’t know, tracking their movements carefully, wand held in a steady hand as he attempted to cast a binding spell on the nearing Wraiths. It was thrown aside by a violent flick of their leader’s wand, who stepped forward.

Harry’s Shield Charm was breaking under the impact of four casters. A stabbing curse struck through, puncturing his lungs.

He looked around, seeing them close in. His best chance was to take out the leader and hope for Ginny’s return, with better odds to fight against. At the man in front, he threw a Blasting Curse - with luck, it would ricochet to take out the others. He saw, perhaps, at least one fall but his Shield Charm punctured under the force of the Cruciatus, cast from multiple wands.

At last, the pain came, as he fell down to the ground, body arching in agony. Harry had built up tolerance for this curse, largely through pure determination. That didn’t make it less unbearable, the red hot surge attacking every limb he had. He focused on maintaining hold of his wand, through the pain, clutching his fingers tight to that last lifeline. That was all he had to do. Just that. Just that.

“Expelliarmus,” came the voice from the leader and Harry’s now empty hand stretched out, a futile attempt to reclaim what was gone. He knew that voice. Lestrange. He was evidently satisfied, malicious in victory. “What do you know, you were right. That is a handy spell – that takes care of the Elder Wand, doesn’t it? Think I’ll finish the job properly though.”

Lestrange stepped forwards, leering above him.

“You’re finally meeting your fate, Potter. Like the night I chose? Thought you might get a kick out of it.” Harry writhed on the ground, barely in control of himself, though his eyes searched for where his wand had clattered away. If he could find it … if he could get to it … “We also thought we might wipe you all out for good measure. As the Dark Lord intended for your accursed goddamn family.” Disgust coated Lestrange’s voice and Harry could nearly taste his bitterness on the air, right alongside the acrid flavor of blood in his own mouth.

“Where are your children, Potter? You’re a sentimentalist. I know you’d keep them nearby. You learnt nothing from your parents.” He laughed, high and cruel, lacking any warmth of true amusement. “Get your kids killed for it, eh? Not such a selfless hero after all.”

The blood in his mouth kept Harry from speaking – he could only watch from the floor as Lestrange sent a pair of Wraiths towards the stairs, feeling a swelling rage that outstripped the pain and left only panic in its wake.

He had no idea if they’d gotten away. Ginny had said she would be back. He knew, without a second’s doubt, she would come back.

If she could. If she’d gotten away in the first place.

So Harry couldn’t leave yet, even if he could have tried to Apparate, wrenching himself back up to his feet despite the stabbing sensation that came with the motion.

Lestrange was wrong. He’d learned everything from his parents. He understood their choices now with a clarity he’d never had before. 

His wand was gone, in the triumphant hands of one of the Wraiths. A trophy. He felt a sick anger at the thought of his loyal holly wand in the hands of a killer and threw himself at the man closest to the stairs, his hands reaching out and fingers grasping for him desperately, so he would at least be brought down alongside Harry, who had nothing more than a blunt and unsteady control over his own body now. He could block the entrance to the stairs, for a few precious seconds more. He could feel the heat of another Cruciatus grazing him as he twisted his body to avoid it, then the next spell not missing as Harry and his opponent fell to the ground.

He held back a scream, there was no pain he could face that would either distract him from his task or let him shown them they’d beat him. Harry refused that, defiance practically a second skin after all these years. But his limbs twitched and then fell lifeless, cold floor against them, while the Wraith got up and kicked Harry’s side as he stepped back in line with his allies.

His aching side rebelling against him, every bone crying out as he stared up at the collection of hooded figures, Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again this time. His glasses had shattered, blood running down his face where the shards had cut.

He didn’t know if he’d saved his family. He could only hope they’d gotten away.

The green light flashed and there was no-one to step in front of it, no shield, no-one left but him. It would get him this time.  

Not Lily. They wouldn’t get Lily. She was at Hogwarts. She was safe.

The thought struck him in the last moment before the curse did, one last fierce impulse of relief before he could feel no more.

Not Lily.

#rev talk #( i'll never be your chosen one | muse ) #for reference #tho not necessarily 'canon' since i wrote it before the other characters involved were taken #in other words: totally up for change depending on plotting! #tw death #tw torture #tw parental death

[hellevator-mp3]

of chaos and calamities || Part 3

Pairing(s): Johnten, Jaeyong, Chenji/Chensung, Markhyuck, Dotae/Doil, Norenmin, Luwoo, (not mentioned but implied: Yuwin)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2600+

Warnings: None!

Author Note: hhh this was actually meant to be up like,,, yesterday?? and i have no excuses so please take this unbetaed mess as my apology lmao also the rest of the wayv members show up again?? idk man

new year’s brings new inspirations, happiness, goals, achievements, and love - for jaehyun and taeyong, it brings a new step in their relationship.  

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while weekdays were spent rotating groups in and out of classes, the weekends were spent doing dumb stuff that they would regret later - johnny shivers when he remembers the last weekend they spent together (the one just before christmas), watching the babies of the group gather in a circle, jisung and chenle in the center. jisung clutched a bag of marshmallows like a lifeline, claiming that he was gonna fit ten marshmallows in his mouth.  johnny watched from the side as jeno scolded him, saying he was a menace to society, while mark urged him to do fifteen.  donghyuck slapped his shoulder as jisung began to stuff marshmallows in his mouth.  not even ten marshmallows later, jisung accidentally sucked a marshmallow down his throat, and taeil had to perform the heimlich maneuver on him.  

it was definitely an experience to remember, at least in johnny's opinion, watching the eldest of their group curse out mark and jisung for being idiots.  

and just a couple weeks before that, they had decided to throw a birthday party for chenle, who was finally saying goodbye to his teens and entering his 20’s, leaving jisung to be the only teen in their group.  they decided to celebrate with drinks at doyoung and taeil’s apartment, which was the biggest out of all of their places - taeyong and jaehyun shared a newly rented studio apartment, johnny and ten had their one bedroom place, while yuta and winwin shared a two bedroom apartment, where they occasionally let renjun, jeno, and jaemin crash.  aside from doyoung and taeil, who lived in their three bedroom apartment that was partially funded by their parents, the rest lived in the dorms, which they had carefully cultivated over the years so that all the couples roomed together.  mark and donghyuck shared one, jungwoo and yukhei another, then chenle and jisung, and jeno, renjun, and jaemin in the last, while kun was the only one in their group to live alone in a dorm.  

but that’s not the point of the story.  johnny remembers chenle’s birthday celebrations like they happened yesterday.  he remembered donghyuck having one too many drinks, and in heavily accented and slurred english, asking mark if he was “american or americannot”, to which the elder replied with “i’m canadian?”, causing donghyuck to collapse in a fit of giggles that wracked his body for a solid five minutes before he was able to calm down.  most of the others were too busy interacting to see their cringy display, only noticing when mark dragged donghyuck to another room to make him lay down.  johnny remembers ten siddling up next to him, then, sliding up under his arm and turning his face into johnny’s shoulder, mumbling something inaudible due to the music playing and ten’s position.  with a laugh, johnny gently peeled him away and asked if he was sober, ten replying with “i’m moderately functional”, leading johnny to pull him by the hand and settle him next to donghyuck in the guest room, muttering how he’ll take that as a no.  the rest of the night was spent trying to get him and donghyuck to drink a bit of water, hoping to ease their hangovers in the morning, and to sober them up slightly before it was time to go home.  

johnny still had to drag a half drunk ten down the stairs, cursing taeil and doyoung for living on the third floor, and for their stairwell being outside.  

in the present, they were spending the weekend at doyoung and taeil’s again, if only because their third bedroom was a movie room with the entire floor covered in cushions and blankets, perfect for the eighteen of them to gather and make a giant cuddle pile as they watched movies.  this was one of those nights, one of the members of the group having decided on a disney marathon (johnny wasn’t even sure who it was), but he did notice that the three faces from a week or so ago were there - yang yang, hendery, and xiao jun, he recalled.  when he questioned it, ten pointed out that yang yang was a member of his dance group, and when asked to join movie night, he wanted to bring two friends.  taeyong had agreed with the idea, as well as the two that were actually hosting movie night.  

so, that’s how johnny found himself pushed to the side during bambi, his boyfriend having ‘forgotten’ him in favor of talking to hendery.  he ignored it, knowing that ten was finally getting out and making new friends, since he would be losing three members of their group once graduation rolled around.  their hands were still intertwined, even as ten turned away slightly to face hendery, and occasionally the younger would squeeze, reassuring johnny of his presence, and allowing the elder to relax and watch the movie.  when the movie ended and it was time for a snack refill, johnny was one of the unlucky ones that had to wade through the piles of blankets and cuddling couples, along with jaehyun and taeyong.  the two were some of his closest friends, and also one of the longest standing couples, clocking in at close to four years, while him and ten were just now at three years, and jeno, jaemin, and renjun were going on three themselves (although jeno and jaemin had been together for three years before meeting renjun).  

that’s how johnny ended up popping popcorn, while jaehyun poured sweets into the various bowls that taeyong held, taeyong himself perched on the kitchen counter.  the three of them worked well together, somehow managing to take bowls of popcorn, sweets, and large bottles of different drinks back into the room, somehow passing them out without spilling anything.  johnny made his way back to ten, settling into his spot and offering the other some of the popcorn he was holding, the younger sending him a small smile and blowing him an air kiss before returning to his conversation.  johnny hummed in content, looking around the room at his friends.  halfway through mulan, ten had ended up in his lap, the two of them sharing the last bits of popcorn.  hendery had fallen asleep against xiao jun, the latter looking as though he was going to pass out at any moment.  checking his phone, johnny saw that it was crossing into the early hours of the morning.  

soon enough, xiao jun, hendery, and yang yang stumbled out of the room, waving goodbye to their newfound friend group, while donghyuck and mark took their spot, donghyuck leaning close to johnny and snuggling under his arm, while mark laid down with his head in donghyuck’s lap.  

johnny lost himself to his thoughts, thinking over his decisions and how they had led to this moment in time.  he came to a sudden realization - of all the things that he had planned for and expected from college, having a small boy perched in his lap and another pressed into his side as he spent movie night with seventeen other boys was not one of them.

but as time wore on and the movie played to the end, he found that he didn't mind.  nor did he exactly mind falling asleep sitting up, surrounded by his best friends.  

sometime during the last movie, taeil and doyoung had snuck out to their shared room, peeking over the sleeping heads of their friends.  taeyong and jaehyun were the only two still awake, and they waved goodbye to the eldest and his boyfriend, before sneaking out the front door and to their own apartment.  while it was an easy commute during the day, when public transportation was running and taxis were out and about, making the trip home in the dark, cold night was night near as easy.  so, taeyong found himself with jaehyun’s hands in his as they slipped into a 24 hour cafe, the kind that served coffee in dainty little cups with saucers, and pieces of cake so small that he could fit a whole slice in his mouth.  jaehyun went to claim a table for them, while taeyong went up to the counter and ordered hot drinks for the both of them, along with a muffin to split.  while they both worked and went to school, their apartment and all the bills that came with it left them with little money, and the barista took mercy on him, saying that the muffin was on the house, leaving him to pay for the drinks and leave two 1000 won notes in his wallet.  that was it, at least until they got paid the next week.  he thanked the barista profusely when he received their drinks and the pastry, before making his way to jaehyun, where he sat in the corner of the cafe, observing the white covering the ground outside.  paths were worn into it where people had walked, due to this being a fairly busy side of town.  

they sat in relative silence as they ate the muffin, jaehyun picking up little bits to feed taeyong, and taeyong doing the same.  once they were finished, they took their drinks with them for the rest of the walk home, considering that they were only halfway there at this point.  taeyong waved to the barista as they walked back out into the cold, clutching jaehyun’s hand in one of his own, and his drink in the other.  

somehow, they made it home in one piece, although jaehyun did spill the dregs of his warm tea on his hand on the last stretch, which left a large wet spot on his jacket.  the two of them hummed in content as they finally stepped into the apartment, taeyong locking the door behind them as jaehyun ventured further into the room, fiddling with the dial that controlled their heater, listening for the telltale sign of it kicking in before stripping out of his outer clothes, tossing the dirty ones into the hamper and his coat back onto a hanger, which he hung on the rack that served as their closet to remind himself to wash it the next day.  their apartment was small, taeyong found himself thinking as he watched jaehyun bustle around to get it ready for bed, but it was perfect for them.  their bed sat on one wall, directly in front of the windows, with racks hung across the wall just in front of it, acting as their closet.  directly next to the front door was their little kitchen, with a door leading to the bathroom nestled in between the fridge and the edge of taeyong’s nightstand.  there were little decorations scattered around, knickknacks that they had picked up on their travels, and framed photos of them and their friends.  

soon enough, the two of them were cuddled up in bed, with taeyong's head resting on jaehyun's chest, their fingers entwined on jaehyun's stomach.  the lights were all off, the room illuminated by the moonlight that crept in their open window.  jaehyun's breathing evened out under taeyong's head, letting him know that the other had fallen asleep.  without moving much, taeyong retrieved his phone, unlocking his phone and texting taeil, asking if he was still up.  the other replied that he was, and asked how planning was going.  taeyong's reply was simple, a quick good and a few winky faces.  when taeyong didn't receive a reply, he assumed that the other had fallen asleep and so decided to throw his phone on the nightstand and go to sleep, himself.  

when taeyong woke up the next morning, jaehyun had abandoned the bed in favor of cooking the two of them breakfast, an oversized shirt hanging off his frame and slippers on his feet, sleep pants shed sometime in the night.  with a hum, taeyong climbed out of bed and went to sit at their table, knowing that his red hair was a frizzy mess and he likely had lines pressed into his face from their sheets, but wanted to see his beautiful boyfriend up close, rather than from a distance.  without even looking back, jaehyun made a cup of coffee and passed it to taeyong, who quickly took a sip of the hot liquid.  

eventually, the two of them settled down to eat, before spending the day binge watching some show that jaehyun had been meaning to watch.  they were supposed to meet with the rest of the boys that night for new year's celebrations.  about an hour before they had to leave, they got ready and bundled up warmly, before setting out on their cold journey to the train station.  

the eighteen of them were spending the night at the han river, since they were having a huge celebration there to ring in the new year.  taeyong and jaehyun had been commissioned to bring food and drinks, which they secured at a little corner store just outside the train station, before taking their full bags and making their way to the river.  some of the other couples were already waiting, including mark and donghyuck, jisung and chenle, doyoung and taeil, and yukhei and jungwoo.  they were all in the same general area, but separated off into their little groups - jisung and chenle stood near the railing, looking over the calm river with their hands intertwined between them.  jungwoo, yukhei, mark, and donghyuck stood all together under a tree, mark with his arm around donghyuck’s waist and jungwoo with his around yukhei’s waist.  doyoung and taeil were standing closest to jaehyun and taeyong, and were the first to notice that they arrived.  the two of them helped taeyong and jaehyun to unload their bags, setting everything by the chairs that had already been laid out in the spot that they claimed.  jaehyun watched as taeyong was dragged away by taeil, the two of them speaking quietly for a moment before they rejoined the rest.  taeyong ignored the look that he got from jaehyun, instead opting to pour them both drinks to sip on while they waited for the others.  

it took nearly another hour and a half for the rest to show up, turning up in groups of two and four and any number in between, until they were finally gathered by the railing to watch the fireworks.  taeyong watched the time on his phone, counting down the seconds to midnight.  

11:59:45

he dug around nervously in his pocket, making sure that the object he needed was still there, anxiety calming slightly.  

11:59:53

he watched as jaehyun faced the river, face lit up in anticipation of what was going to happen, not knowing of the plan brewing in his boyfriend’s head.  

11:59:59

jaehyun had turned around when taeyong tapped his shoulder, watching as his boyfriend dropped to one knee just as the clock struck midnight.  a camera flash caught the exact moment realization flashed in his eyes, seeing taeyong on the ground and bearing a velvet box that housed a silver ring.  a firework went off behind them, another camera flash in front of them, and jaehyun dropped to his knees.  the two of them embraced as jaehyun murmured ‘yes’ over and over, drawing taeyong close and kissing the daylights out of him as their friends cheered in the background.  

when all was said and done, they watched the rest of the fireworks being shot off, rings glinting in the early morning light and flashing with the different colors that were shot into the sky, feeling as though they were one day, one moment, one step closer to where they were meant to be.  

jaehyun swore on everything that he would never forget that moment (and taeyong swore that he would never forget ten asking if they could have a double wedding).  

#nct fic #johnten #johnny seo #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul #jaeyong #jung yoonoh #lee taeyong #chenji #chensung #zhong chenle #park jisung #markhyuck #mark lee #lee donghyuck #dotae #doil #kim dongyoung #moon taeil #luwoo #wong yukhei #jungwoo #yuwin #nakamoto yuta #dong sicheng #xiao jun #hendery #yang yang #nct

[rosexknight]

IT IS STILL THE 23RD SOMEWHERE IN THE US I’M NOT LATE!! Omg I am so sorry for not having this out sooner my dear. Too many family holiday obligations for today...

BUT SURPRISE @mrs-stiltskin I’m your santa!! I hope you like this fic~! It’s the first time I’ve written Rumbelle in far too long but OMG what a fun way to dive back in with all my favorite tropes. Merry Christmas dearie <3

Prompt: Fake Date, Egg Nog, Snog

The light smell of pancakes and bacon stirred Belle from her slumber. She opened her eyes enough for the light peeking through the windows to cause her head to pound. She groaned, pulling the soft covers over her head and snuggling further into the down pillows.

When did she get down pillows?

The pounding of her head only worsened when she opened her eyes again. She massaged the bridge of her nose as she looked around the room, slowly realizing just how unfamiliar yet familiar it was. The room was far too big to be the one in her flat. The mattress too soft. The blankets too crisp. The furniture around her seemed antique, but there was an odd lack of any personalization. The shelves and dresser were empty, and the only thing on the end table at her side was a lamp and a glass of water. How did she know this place?

She sat up, realizing she was fully dressed in the dress she’d worn out last night, the back only slightly unzipped.

“Where…?”

Uneven footsteps echoed, and Belle felt her body go cold. She knew those uneven steps all too well.

“Ah. Miss French you’re awake. Good.”

Mr. Gold appeared at the door, leaning on his cave with one hand and balancing a tray stacked with the pancakes and bacon. He entered, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing the tay before her.

“They’re blueberry. I hope that’s alright…”

Belle blinked at the spread before her, complete with milk and medicine for her headache. She swallowed, the pounding of her head only growing worse as she tried to pinpoint how she’d gotten here.

“Not hungry?” Mr. Gold asked, suddenly worried.

Belle only shook her head, her hands shaky as she took the medicine and a hardy drink of the milk.

“I’m sorry Mr. Gold.” She said, shaking her head. “I just don’t...What happened last night?”

Gold chuckled, and Belle couldn’t help but smile as she was finally able to focus on him. He seemed so much more relaxed than usual. It was so rare to see him outside of his suit and tie, and even though slacks and a button-down wasn’t exactly casual for most people, for Gold it was.

“You had a little too much eggnog last night.” Gold explained, setting his cane aside to lean it on the bed. He hesitated a moment, which only made Belle blush as she realized the implications. “Nothing nefarious happened, I assure you. I only drove you back and put you to bed when you fell asleep.”

“You drove me back from the office party?”

“Yes. I’ll take you home as well I just thought...perhaps you’d be hungry.”

“I am.”

Gold smiled as Belle picked up the fork, her stomach grumbling at the sight of the food.

“I wasn’t too horrible last night was I?”

“Not at all, dearie. I daresay it was the best christmas party the firm has ever seen.”

“That only makes me feel worse about not remembering it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll come back to you.”

Belle only giggled, taking the first bite of her pancakes. “I hope so.”

Belle French and Mr. Gold had an explicit deal that had been ongoing for years now. She remembered quite clearly the day he’d proposed the deal. A snowy day in December, one of the most unforgiving days of Maine’s winter thus far. Belle was bundled in her thick coat as she stuffed a wad of newspaper into the cracked corner of a window. The library of Storybrooke was a gorgeous building, but it was old and in need of some repairs and upgrades. She’d been trying to get the town to fund things for ages, but Regina...Well, she didn’t want to think about Regina just then.

The door of the library opened, and Belle practically groaned. The tell-tale uneven steps were oddly foreboding as they approached. She shoved the rest of the newspaper into the corner, attempting to look as focused as she could as she worked.

“Dealing with a draft, Miss French?”

“As always it seems.” She said.

Gold hesitated, and Belle frowned. It wasn’t that she disliked Mr. Gold. Quite the opposite. They might have bickered sometimes, but Belle almost enjoyed that. Plus, he was the only one that really shared her same love of antique literature.

“Madame Mayor seems to have a grudge against you.”

“I have no idea why.” Belle stood, smoothing out her jacket and turning to give him a smile. Gold seemed to relax. “But it seems like the library will just be cold again this year.”

“It’s too bad she can’t find the money in the town’s budget. Seems what might benefit you most is a generous donation.”

Belle raised a brow at him. Gold stood easily before him, though seemed...off. The grip on his cane was tighter than usual. His feet shifted his weight awkwardly between them. If Belle didn’t know any better she’d say he was...nervous.

“Mr. Gold, are you about to propose a deal?”

Mr. Gold swallowed, clearing his throat. He stood up straighter, his air changing. Now he was all the dragon of Storybrooke, save for the waver in his hand on his cane.

His voice almost didn’t crack when he spoke. “I need a girlfriend.”

Belle’s eyes widened. “A…?”

“For a Christmas party.” Gold quickly amended, the rest of his words tumbling out of his mouth as if unbidden. “My old law partner, Midas, is throwing a party you see. He’s expecting a plus one, and not making an appearance would be quite ah...rude.”

She took a moment to soak in what she’d heard. Mr. Gold, the most feared man in Storybrooke was standing before her, asking her to be his girlfriend, for only one night. She glanced behind her to the window with drafts patched with newspaper. It was...tempting. Very tempting. Especially considering how small Gold suddenly looked before her, willing to put forward the funds entirely for the library. Her library.

Belle shook her head, not quite believing the situation. “I’ll be your...fake girlfriend? For a Christmas party?”

“Yes.”

“And...You’d pay for the repairs?”

“I’ll donate whatever is needed to make any repairs and updates you like.”

He was desperate, she realized. Not only for a solution to his predicament but also for company. She couldn’t deny him if she tried.

“Deal.”

It was Belle that extended her hand first, and Gold stared at it for a moment as if he didn’t quite believe she’d agreed. However, he soon took it in his and they shook as if signing an agreement.

Belle has worried at first about everything. Her outfit, her hair, her make-up. Gold assured her that she didn’t need to worry about any of that. That she’d be perfect as-is.

“You’re only there to make an appearance remember, dearie. No need to worry over the details.”

It had been a rousing success.

Gold was the perfect attentive boyfriend. Engaged enough to know whenever she needed more of her drink or a breather but not so overbearing that he wouldn’t give her space. She’d somehow charmed Midas effortlessly, and gotten along so well with his daughter Abigail they were exchanging phone numbers by the end of the night.

It all went so well that the next year, on December 23rd as always, Mr. Gold was in her library again.

“Well the library doesn’t need anything…” Belle said. Gold deflated if only slightly, and she bit her lip. “But uh...You know sometimes my attic leaks.”

Gold chuckled. “Sounds like you need a better landlord.”

“I do. The one I have right now is an old miser. I hear he had to get someone to pose as his girlfriend for Christmas parties.”

Gold wrinkled his nose. “He sounds like a desperate soul.”

With a laugh from Belle, the deal was struck again. For a second year Belle was on Gold’s arm as he mingled at Midas’s christmas party.

The third year he’d treated Belle to eggnog and a box of Christmas cookies after the party. The fourth year she’d stayed at his place to watch one of those horrid Christmas specials he detested.

He loved it despite himself, and she loved it despite his excuses getting even flimsier. The uneven footsteps weren’t even foreboding anymore.

“You look beautiful tonight, Belle.” Gold said as he handed her another glass of eggnog.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold.” Belle said, giving him a smile as they stood to the side, away from the crowds of the party.

She and Mr. Gold had made their rounds, greeting all of his usual partners and congratulating Abigail on her recent engagement. She’d been careful not to have too many glasses of eggnog, but the night and Gold’s hand on her waist was getting to her.

“It will be your turn next, eh Gold?” Midas’s voice came. He grinned at them as he approached, his gold tie glinting in the christmas lights more than even Gold’s. “It’s been what, four years?”

“Five.” Gold corrected, his arm wavering on Belle’s waist as he hid his nervousness behind his own glass of eggnog.

Midas sighed, shaking his head. “Honestly I understand your hesitation but...well, I suppose it’s not my place. Belle, don’t let him put it off much longer. If you don’t insist he make an honest woman out of you he’ll never propose.”

Gold coughed, nearly choking on his drink. Belle leapt into action, rubbing his back and allowing him to lean on her for support.

“This might be a bit...Much right now, Midas.” She said, giving a reassuring grin. “Believe me, I’m not letting him get away with anything.”

“You’re right. Sorry about that. I should have known.” Midas gave Gold’s shoulder a squeeze. “You got a good one, Gold. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you Midas. Indeed. I really lucked out with her.”

The look that Gold gave her as he took her free hand to squeeze made Belle blush. She laughed, leaning into him. “Sappy.”

“Only for you.”

Midas chuckled, excusing himself after someone else called to him. Belle took another sip of her eggnog. She’d expected Gold to let go of her hand, but he never did. On the contrary, he practically clutched it like a lifeline.

“Are you okay?”

Gold blinked, seeming to come back to himself. He let go then, practically downing his glass all at once. Belle frowned.

“You’re lying.” She noted. “What did he mean about you being hesitant?”

“It’s nothing.” He insisted, but then sighed when Belle lifted a brow at him. “I was married before. It...didn’t end well.”

“Ah. I see…” Belle said. “So the rumors in Storybrooke are true.”

“I would have thought you’d known that by now, dearie.”

“I make it a point not to believe everything I hear.” Belle said, giving Gold a smile so bright he couldn’t help but return it. “I’ve found people are layered.”

“Well I’m glad you’re not as idiotic as the rest of the town. If not this arrangement would never work.”

“Is that why you struck this deal with me? And here I was hoping you’d found me attractive.”

“Whoever said I didn’t.”

Belle giggled. “Something must be wrong. You’re not usually this sappy. Who are you and what have you done with Mr. Gold?”

Gold chuckled. He opened his mouth to reply, but then abigail was there, pulling Belle away from him for the rest of the night. The subject didn’t come up again until their ride home.

“Do you have any other dark secrets you’ve hid from me?”

Gold glanced to Belle, trying to ignore how much he adored the way she looked taking off her heels in the passenger seat of his cadillac. As if she belonged there. Perhaps that’s why he decided to be genuine.

“I have a son.” he admitted, swallowing. He cleared his throat. “Baelfire.”

Belle blinked. “A son?”

Gold nodded. His lips were tight. Belle placed her hand on his, squeezing his fingers.

“Tell me about him.” He remained silent. “That can be your end of the deal.”

“What about your cruise?”

“Was that what I decided on?” Belle leaned back in the seat, all too pleased to make herself comfortable. “I can take one next year.”

“Ah. Of course.” He paused. “After the movie.”

Her eyes suddenly lit up, as if the prospect of a horrible christmas special with him was that appealing. However, then she shook his head.

“You’re only trying to distract me.”

“I would never, dearie.” Gold grinned, almost innocently. “I have more eggnog at home. And hot cocoa. And a present for you.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can be persuaded to wait until after a movie.”

“Good.” Gold said, turning to intertwine their fingers. It felt tender. Almost...loving. “Good thing.”

He didn’t let go of her hand until they reached his house and he parked the car. He didn’t pay attention to the christmas special he put on. Some old cartoon from childhood with mice and the night before christmas. He was too focused on the way Belle willingly leaned on his shoulder as they sat on the couch, almost...snuggling up to him if he let himself believe that.

“Would you like a nightcap or a simple cup of coca?” He asked to keep his mind off things.

“Mr. Gold I believe you are trying to get me drunk.” Belle giggled as she held out her glass for him to add the rum to. “First the eggnog at the party and now spiked cocoa?”

“A man has his vices, Miss French.” He chuckled.

She hummed “So does a woman.”

Her cup grew empty. The night grew later. The movie started coming to an end. And still belle did not move from his side, only leaning heavier on it. He gazed down at her to find her eyes closed before they snapped open and she re-settled herself against him. Gold chuckled.

“Let me take you home, Belle. I believe it’s time for bed.”

Belle’s protest came more firm than he’d expected. “The special isn’t over.”

“We can watch the rest some other time.”

This didn’t seem to be good enough for Belle. She didn’t move. Perhaps it was the alcohol. Or perhaps it was that she was tired of only getting him to herself once a year. Only getting him once a year before going back to being friends at best and acquaintances at worse.

“You still have to tell me about your son.”

Gold suddenly looked unsure “I…”

“Why do we do this to ourselves, Gold?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You must be tired of it too.”

This was not how either of them expected this night to go. Belle sat up, trying to glare at him but not finding the energy to. Gold placed a hand on her arm, doing his best to squeeze in a way he hoped was soothing. His mind tried to catch up with how quickly this was suddenly moving.

“Dearie you’re not making sense. You’re drunk. Let me take you home.”

“Don’t dearie me.” She huffed, looking admittedly adorable. “Why only once a year?”

“Wha--?”

“Do you honestly think I wouldn’t date you if we didn’t have some arrangement.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. The very notion is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Gold had no idea how it happened. One minute they were staring each other down, and the next she was in his arms. One of them had started it, but neither made a move to pull away as their lips collided. Gold could taste the chocolate on her lips as they kissed. Her arms wound around his neck to entangle in his hair. His fingers tingled as they squeezed her hips, the warmth of her body against his making him dizzy. Their kiss was in no way elegant, but even the sloppy mess was perfection. Belle opened her lips to him willingly, and they both groaned as their lips found each other. He had just enough willpower to break the kiss as he tasted the alcohol on her, apparently much stronger than either of them had meant for it to be.

“Belle, love, you’re drunk.”

“Gold just kiss me you stupid man.”

She moved further up his body, practically straddling him right there on the couch. He had to fight every urge in his body not to take her right then and there as she loosened his tie and flung it aside.

“You know how attractive you are without your suit and tie?”

“Belle…”

She didn’t listen. On the contrary. As Gold attempted to keep his hands squarely on her hips, hers moved, beginning to unbutton his shirt. Her lips moved with them, trailing down his neck and thoroughly trying to murder him.

“I love…”

Her voice trailed off. Her body stilled. Gold blinked. Her body was still heavy on his, pressing against him in all the right ways. But her hands had stilled. Her lips unmoving. All that remained was her breath, deep and even, against his neck.

“Belle?” She didn’t move. Gold chuckled, shaking her slightly. “Belle?”

Belle only grumbled in her sleep, snuggling closer to him. Her nose pressed against the hollow of his throat, and he felt her lips curl into a smile. He sighed.

“You...You are going to do this old miser in.”

The fork Belle was holding dropped to the tray. Her pancakes remained half eaten. She groaned as it all came back to her at once, burying her face in her hands.

“Oh my god.”

Gold tilted his head at her, “Hm?”

“Tell me I didn’t practically force myself on you last night.”

“Well it wasn’t as if I was resisting very much, dearie.”

Belle peeked at him through her hands. He wasn’t looking at her, instead picking a piece of bacon from her tray for himself.

“I was completely ridiculous last night.”

“Indeed. Completely ridiculous.”

Gold stood, taking his cane to move to leave her to herself. Belle’s stomach dropped, realizing how he’d taken it. Her hand reached out, meaning to catch his.

“Wait a minute, Gold. I didn’t mean it like--”

Her protests were cut off by the doorbell ringing. Gold cursed under his breath.

“They’re early.”

Belle was already setting her tray aside to get out of bed and go after him in the likely event he decided to run again. “Who?”

“My...Baelfire. They always come by on Christmas Eve.”

“Oh good.” Belle said. “Now you can introduce me.”

Gold looked horrified at the very notion. Belle only smiled at him. The doorbell rang again.

“Why?”

“Well I have been your girlfriend for four years.”

“Five.” “Yes five. It’s about time I meet your son.”

“Belle…”

Gold’s groan of protest turned into a completely different type of groan as she stepped closer to lock their lips. He barely had time to steady himself on his cane before her body was pressed against him. The doorbell was forgotten as he lost himself in the taste of blueberry pancakes on her lips.

“You are going to give me one more day.” She said, clutching his arms like a lifeline. “Then I am going to deal for more time.”

“The price is rather high for time these days, dearie.”

“Oh I hope so. Now come on, let’s not keep them waiting.”

“Indeed not.”

Belle was the one that answered the door, and Gold moved to discreetly zip the back of her dress before their young grandson caught on to the looks his son and his wife Emma were giving him.

“I’m Belle.” She said, all bright smiles.

“Belle!” Baelfire beamed. “Nice to finally meet you. Dad’s told us alot about you.”

“Has he now?”

Baelfire countered the glare Gold was giving him with a wink. “You around for longer this year?”

Emma laughed at his side, though Henry only looked confused. Gold interjected, inviting them out of the cold and insisting on putting on the rest of a christmas special he’d never watch under any other circumstances. He shook his head as he shut the door and Belle took Henry’s coat, laughing with his son and Emma as if she’d belonged there all along.

Well...Perhaps having her around longer than just one day out of the year wasn’t so bad an idea.

#rss #rumbellesecretsanta #rumbelle secret santa #rss2018 #mrs stiltskin

[michael-hearteyes-wheeler]

October Spooktacular!

Prompt: “Nah, I dont get scared.” + Mileven - Requested by Anonymous

[A/N] This was such a fun prompt! I used to work for a haunted house every October and this totally brought me back, so thank you lovely anon! (Small TW for mentions of gore, but its all simulated bc its a haunted house!)

The air that wrapped around them was cold, and biting.

El was standing in the center of what was more or less a huddle, all of her friends forming a tight circle, wearing warm jackets and gloves and hats. Every time the wind picked up, she snuggled closer in the space between Mike and Max. El hated being cold, despised it, so no one cared as she fought to stay warm. Will was more or less doing the same thing across from her, practically wedged in Dustin’s armpit.

The group was waiting in line for something that Dustin called ‘The Must-see Event of the fall’, and what Max had insisted would be the perfect October activity. A little, hastily thrown together, Haunted House on the outskirts of town, set up in an old barn.

El wasn't exactly sure what a ‘Haunted House’ was, at least not in this sense. She had watched the Amityville Horror with Max, and learned that some houses could be haunted (although Lucas argued that ghosts weren’t real), and it certainly didn't seem like anyone in that movie was having any fun. So why would they go to a haunted house? Dustin said it was just people in costumes who wanted to jump out and scare you. Max explained that the rooms were set up to look creepy, but that nothing inside of them was real. Mike said that some people enjoy getting scared, and that even if he didn't get it, the entire party was going, and it might be fun. Hopper just told her not to use her powers if one of the actors did scare her.

Fear was an interesting concept for El. She knew fear, probably a little too well honestly, but it was a feeling she often masked with other feelings. Determination, bravery, survival, anger. When she watched scary movies with Max, she didn't find herself feeling scared, not even at the gory parts that made Max clutch a pillow to her face. Loud noises made her jump, but she wasn't afraid of them, just of what they could represent. She wasn't scared of spiders like Steve, or of clowns like Dustin, or of Dolls like Lucas. Mike was scared of lots of things, but to her, he just seemed more nervous than actually terrified, and those things were different.

So she agreed to go, if for no other reason than to see what all the fuss was about, and because if everyone else was going, then she had to go too. They bought the tickets, they got warm apple cider from a vendor out front, and they waited in the long line that criss-crossed through an old corn field. As the night grew darker, and colder, they got closer and closer to the front of the line, where people were separated into pairs and sent into the glowing red light that spilled from the open barn doors.

“So when they split us up, who’s going with who?” Will, who was more nervous than anyone to be there, asked when there was only a few people separating then from the front of the line.

“I think it's pretty obvious, Max and Lucas, El and Mike, and Me and You.” Dustin pointed at each person as he spoke, and the group nodded in agreement. Dustin often complained about being a ‘third wheel’, even if El didn't really think he meant it.

So the party shuffled around, changing positions from their amorphous huddle to a row of pairs, Lucas and Max upfront, El and Mike at the back. This meant El had little to no protection from the breeze that whipped through the corn field, and she latched onto Mikes arm like a lifeline. He was like a living heater sometimes.

“You're not scared are you?” Mike asked, teasingly, looking down at her with his signature crooked grin.

“No, I don't get scared.” She teased back, even though she meant it.

Eventually the line moved again, sending Lucas and Max off into the barn. Will and Dustin bounced on their heels eagerly (or nervously), and soon enough they filled in too. El could hear Lucas shriek, all high-pitched and piercing, then she could hear Max laugh. She listened to Dustin and Will yell out in unison. Then there was the roar of a chainsaw, and a loud crash. It made her curious. What could possibly be inside the barn that would make then scream out loud? Would Mike scream? Would she scream?

Her questions would be answered very soon, because before she knew it, it was time to walk inside. Mike handed over their tickets to a man dressed like the grim reaper, who smiled at them and told them ‘not to touch the props or actors’.

Once inside, the air was significantly warmer. El let go of her death grip on Mike’s arm, and settled for just holding his hand instead. It was dark, almost too dark to see where to go. The red lights made shadows stick out at odd angles, and a series of makeshift walls turned and bisected the barn like a maze.

So far, not scary at all.

Then, however, they rounded the corner and came face to face with the first actor. El jumped, startled, and felt Mike jump beside her. The man in front of them was dressed like a farmer, only he was covered in blood. Fake blood, El reminded herself. The man said nothing to them, just breathed heavily down their shoulders as they walked past.

Then they entered a room full of tables and chairs, almost like a dining room, except everything was covered in simulated gore. Blood and guts, severed legs and arms, even a severed head on a silver platter. El felt grossed out, sure, but not scared. There was a woman in this room, pretending to eat the fake body parts. Mike wretched and turned his head, and El thinks like she might have laughed at him if it weren't for the fact that she just wanted out.

The rest of the haunt went on this way. People jumping out from behind corners, people rocking back and forth in the shadows. Fake blood and fake bodies here and there. A room with a girl in a cage (that made El more sad than scared). A wall on pulleys that fell hard as they walked past it (the loud crash she had heard outside). It was all just puzzle pieces. Sure they both jumped a few times, and sure every now and then they would squeeze each others hands, but that was about it. After a few minutes El could tell they were reaching the exit, and she felt more disappointed than anything else. Disappointed that she didn't get scared, disappointed that it wasn't really fun either, and disappointed that Mike didn't even scream. That would have at least been funny.

But then, just as the exit came into view, and the dim yellow flood lights outside showed them the way, a final actor made his presence known.

The man with the chainsaw.

In the millisecond it took for El to register what was happening, everything went to chaos.

First, Mike yelped and turned so fast that he tripped over his own legs and fell, letting go of El’s hand. Then, El realized that she had started screaming too. She turned around to face the man, who was towering above her and far too close (seriously, how had she not noticed him creeping up behind her?) He was wearing a pig’s face as a mask, and wielding a massive chainsaw just above her head. He was covered in blood, and the air around him smelled like gasoline and mildew.

El was frozen. El was terrified.

Suddenly, Mike was back to his feet and grabbed her arm, scrambling to pull them both outside. If he hadn't done that, El wasn't sure how long it would have taken for her to start moving on her own. As they turned to leave, El saw the flood lights flickering, and released whatever grip she had subconsciously had on them, hoping anyone that had seen would think it was just an atmospheric effect.

Of course, as soon as they were outside, the sounds of the chainsaw stopped, and their friends were all waiting for them, laughing and pointing. El only stopped screaming once she saw all of her friends, and she released the tension in her clenched fists. It was surreal, leaving the dark and oppressive corridors inside, and feeling the real world again. ‘Suspension of disbelief’, that was a phrase Max used to explain scary movies once, that a good movie can take you away from reality just long enough to make you believe whatever is happening on screen. Mike was out of breath, and leaned forward bracing his hands on his legs once they were a safe distance away.

“Oh my god, Wheeler!” Max, who was laughing the hardest, was the first to speak, “That really made my night, seeing you hit the ground like that.”

“Oh ha ha.” Mike gulped for air and stood up, “I just tripped.”

“Uh huh, don't even try to lie man, we all saw you lose it.” Lucas smirked.

“Oh like you didn't scream like a little girl?” Mike pointed, which made everyone (besides Lucas) laugh again.

“So, Ellie, how was your first haunted house?” Dustin asked, looping his arm around her shoulder (which had quickly become his favorite form of affection for her).

El was still, more or less, in shock. She had been so unafraid, and frankly, so unprepared for that ending. She didn't so much as gasp the entire walk through, but now her throat was raw from yelling and her palms were sweaty. But even still...

“I loved it.”

“What!?” Mike, Max, and Lucas all asked in unison.

“I loved it. I like being scared, it was fun.” El realized then that she was smiling wide. That the Adrenalin she felt from getting so startled was surging through her. A feeling she knew well, but never one that came without consequences before now. She felt unstoppable.

“I knew you would love it! If you want, we can come through again, without the boys next time.” Max clapped a hand on El’s shoulder and El nodded. That sounded like a great idea. She almost wanted to go through it again right now.

“Well great, you guys have fun.” Mike shook his head and the group started moving back towards the road, where Steve would be picking them up. “But you're both crazy.”

“Guess the girls of the group are just cooler than you guys.” Max nonchalantly flipped her hair, and Mike rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit, Maxine.” Mike muttered, which sent the entire group laughing all over again.

The walk to the road was filled with energetic chatter about the haunt. Everyone's favorite parts and rooms, reenacting different actors, telling what they did when they got scared. Whenever her friends talked over each other this way, it always made El feel warm and content. She wasn't much of a talker, but she loved listening, and she loved that they would ask for her to weigh in. El realized then that fear had many faces, and it didn't always have to be such a bad thing. That fear was malleable, sometimes exciting, and that it kept you safe. She felt empowered by her own fear.

“So...” Mike had fallen back from the conversation just a few steps to stand next to her. “You really had fun?”

El shrugged, grabbing his arm again and finally enjoying the evening breeze. “Like I said, I don't get scared.” She said passively, even if this time it wasn't exactly true.

#yall haunted houses are just the best ever #send me spooky prompts! #my writing #mike wheeler #el hopper #mileven #mileven fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

No Other Duke But You by Valerie Bowman

Playful Brides #11

Lady Delilah Montebbank has been so busy finding matches for friends that she hasn’t taken the time to find one for herself so when her less than kind mother tells her, “this year or else,” she states her intentions of becoming engaged to the catch of the season. How hard can it be and who cares if all the matches she has made already were “love matches” and hers will not be?

In the midst of Delilah’s scheming and her mother’s negativity and her friend Thomas Hobbs, Duke of Huntley realizing HE is the one who should be with Delilah a play is being put together for charity. Appearances by couples in previous couples in the series are made, a love match is made and a side match is made by Thomas’s sister who also gets her HEA.

I have to say that Delilah seemed a bit “fluffy” and not very down to earth with her dropping of French words here and there and immature in what she thought would work for herself in regard to marriage. Her mother was worse than Cinderella’s stepmother so perhaps that impacted her in more ways than one. Thomas was a nice guy but he was a bit slow in stating his intentions and almost missed out. The story was light and frothy and included a love potions and ended up being a friends of ten years moving into lovers story with a HEA.

Did I like this book? Not as much as some others in the series but it was enjoyable

Will I read more by this author? Probably.

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC – this is my honest review.

3-4 Stars

Synopsis:

A lady with a love potion. A Duke who takes it by mistake. Romance and mischief ensues when plans go awry in No Other Duke But You by Valerie Bowman.

SINGLE LADY SEEKS DUKE

Lady Delilah Montebank has her marital sights set on the Duke of Branville. There’s just one problem: he barely knows she exists. But no matter, she’s got a plan to win him over with her charm, her wit—and perhaps the love potion she has in her possession wouldn’t hurt her cause...

Lord Thomas Hobbs, Duke of Huntley, thinks his best friend Delilah’s quest to become a duchess is ridiculous. He’s always said he’d rather give up all the brandy in London than commit to one person for life. Besides, he knows that Delilah’s love potion can’t possibly win over Branville…since she accidentally gave it to him instead. But perhaps this is the excuse he needs to show her he’s always loved her...

Delilah can’t believe she gave the potion to the wrong duke. Then again, Delilah could do a lot worse than win the hand of her handsome best friend. Could it be that the right duke has been before her eyes all along?

Buy-Book Links: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250121684

EXCERPT

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Delilah glanced up and down the dim hallway. It was well past three in the morning, she was still dressed in the pink ball gown she’d worn to the party, and she clutched the small vial of Cupid’s Elixir in her sweaty, guilty palm. She pressed her back against the shadowed wall not far from the Duke of Branville’s bedchamber. She could do this. More importantly, she would do this. She’d come this far, hadn’t she? What did a little sneaking about in the middle of the night matter?

She’d got detailed instructions to Branville’s room from Derek, who thankfully hadn’t asked any questions about why she wanted to know. According to him, the room was four doors to the right, just past the staircase on the third floor. The third floor was where all the bachelor gentlemen were sleeping. It would be a complete scandal if she was found lurking about alone at this time of night, but she’d waited until the household seemed quite asleep and then waited a bit longer for good measure. Anyone who saw her now would be skulking about themselves, which meant they would hardly be in a position to judge her. She briefly wondered if she’d run into Lavinia.

It was not as if she was out to do anything particularly scandalous. It was more silly and frivolous than anything else. She’d simply die, however, if Branville woke up and asked her what she was doing sprinkling pixie water in his eyes. She’d already decided to pretend as if she were dreaming, thinking she was Puck in the play. Sleepwalking. That would make all the sense in the world. Wouldn’t it? She swallowed hard. Probably not, but she wasn’t about to let the fear of being caught stop her. Besides, all of her and Lucy’s matchmaking had turned into a colossal mess. If a spray of perfume could sort it out, so be it. Of course, Delilah’s conscience reminded her that she hadn’t offered any of the perfume to Rebecca to use on Thomas. She didn’t want to even contemplate that. She’d already shared it with one other person, and that made her guilty enough. The image of Madame Rosa’s disapproving, craggy face had haunted her all evening.

Delilah shook off the thought and turned her attention back to the matter at hand. Pressing her empty palm against the darkened wall, she inched her way along until she came to Branville’s door. She felt like a spy. This was how professional spies did such things, wasn’t it? Too bad she was too embarrassed by her actions to ask the veritable house full of professional spies who happened to be asleep behind other doors right now.

She transferred the vial into her opposite hand and slowly reached to grasp the door handle. The metal was cold in her bare hand. She’d discarded her gloves, deciding that they would make her actions more clumsy. The last thing she needed tonight was to be more clumsy than usual. Decidedly, she needed to be less so.

She clutched the door handle like a lifeline and closed her eyes, steadying her shaking fingers on the knob. She was close, so close. Praying that the door wouldn’t squeak, she turned the handle slowly. The only sound was the thumping of her own heart in her ears.

When the handle was turned as far as it would go, she pushed it, praying fervently that it wasn’t locked. It took a moment before she realized the door was opening. Its hinges silent, merci a Dieu. Completely silent.

She slipped inside the cool, dark room. Steady, deep breathing came from the bed. Thank goodness, she hadn’t woken the duke with her entrance. She could barely see a thing, but she didn’t dare light a candle. A tiny stream of moonlight filtered into the room through a small opening in the curtains on the far window. She used that to identify the hulking bed in the center of the room. She tiptoed over to it slowly, taking care in case there was anything to trip over. No doubt she would find it if there was.

She made it to the foot of the bed without incident and paused, trying to quell her nerves and dispel her guilt. She clutched the vial more tightly in her palm, shaking with fear and anxiety. Now that she was here, she had no earthly idea how to drop liquid on a man’s eyes without awakening him. Besides, how much of it was she supposed to use? Surely not much. She would employ the tiniest drops possible so as not to disturb him, but she also needed to ensure the perfume touched his eyelids. Tricky business, this being a fairy. She had a sudden appreciation for Puck.

Holding her breath, she lifted her skirts with her free hand and tiptoed to the right side of the bed. Because it was summer, the bed curtains weren’t drawn. The window was open, and a slight breeze blew through the crack in the curtains.

The outline of the duke’s body was barely visible in the moonlight. He was turned away on his side, his back to her, his face toward the window. She would have to lean over his body to sprinkle the elixir on his eyes. The bed was tall. She must carefully climb up to do this task properly. She only hoped she didn’t jostle the mattress enough to wake him.

She waited in silence for a few moments to ensure his breathing remained steady, then she carefully lifted first one knee and then the other, bracing them on the mattress and pulling herself up, still clutching the vial. She winced as he moved slightly in his sleep, but he kept his face turned away. Blast it.

Once she was fully atop the bed, she paused and hoped the hammering of her heart didn’t wake him. He smelled good, a combination of soap and maleness that she wanted to breathe in. There was something vaguely familiar about his scent.

Shaking away that unhelpful thought, she moved gingerly across the mattress on her knees until she came to a stop at his side. His shirt was off. The beam of moonlight hit his smooth, muscled arm. She swallowed. The man’s chest was positively swoon-worthy. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and uncorked the vial. Then she carefully leaned over as far as she could to locate his eyes. They remained shrouded in the dark, but she took a guess as to their general direction and tipped the little vial as slowly and carefully as she could. He turned then, and she was afforded enough light to see that the first tiny drop of liquid did indeed fall directly onto his eyelid.

He blinked, and she held her breath. When he settled back into sleep, she closed her eyes and said a brief prayer that she would get away with it a second time before tipping the vial once more to allow another tiny drop to fall on his other eyelid.

He blinked and rubbed at his eyes while Delilah held her breath again, paralyzed with fear. Soon, he settled back into his pillow and his breathing returned to its steady pace.

She pressed a hand to her throat. It was over. She was done. All she had to do was extract herself from the bed and the room without being seen or heard. The difficult part was behind her.

Still praying he wouldn’t stir, she backed away from the duke. Slowly. Slowly. She’d nearly made it to the edge of the bed when he flipped over to face her. A beam of moonlight slid over his sleeping features.

Delilah gasped.

From No Other Duke But You. Copyright © 2019 by Valerie Bowman and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

Author Bio:

Valerie Bowman grew up in Illinois with six sisters (she’s number seven) and a huge supply of historical romance novels. After a cold and snowy stint earning a degree in English with a minor in history at Smith College, she moved to Florida the first chance she got. Valerie now lives in Jacksonville with her family including her mini-schnauzers, Huckleberry and Violet. When she’s not writing, she keeps busy reading, traveling, or vacillating between watching crazy reality TV and PBS.

Q&A with Valerie Bowman

Q: How is NO OTHER DUKE BUT YOU, your upcoming novel, different than your previous novels, or can you say anything more about it?

A: NO OTHER DUKE BUT YOU is the final book in the Playful Brides series. It’s book #11, and while it can be read as a standalone, I know the long-time readers of the series have been waiting for this couple’s story. Delilah is my most asked about heroine.

Q: Where did you get your inspiration from for NO OTHER DUKE BUT YOU?

A: Most of the books in the Playful Brides series are inspired by famous plays. This one is inspired by A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is one of my favorites. I’ve had the plot in mind for a long time.

Q: What makes Lady Delilah and Lord Thomas special? Can you say anything more about them?

A: Delilah is sassy, unconventional, and a bit of a mess compared to the other young ladies on the marriage mart. But she has a heart of gold and good intentions to be the best matchmaker in the land, until it’s time for her own match to be made, of course! Thomas is her best friend who has been madly (and secretly) in love with her for years. He appreciates her for who she is.

Q: Who would you cast for Delilah and Thomas in the movie version?

A: I love this question! I’ve set up a Pinterest board for the entire Playful Brides series with the pictures of who I think of as the main characters. In my mind, Delilah looks like Ellen Page and Thomas is Justin Bartha.

Q: What is one thing the heroine, Delilah, can’t live without?

A: Sigh. Thomas. Though she doesn’t know it at first.

Q: NO OTHER DUKE BUT YOU is the last novel in your wonderful Playful Brides series. How do you feel about the series coming to an end?

A: I’ve loved these characters for years and it’s bittersweet to see the series end, but I’m also looking forward to writing something new!

Q: Would you say it was more or less difficult writing NO OTHER DUKE BUT YOU knowing it’s the last in the series?

A: Yes! I was worried that the readers wouldn’t like it or think it’s a fitting end to the series. But in the end, I wrote the book I wanted to write to wrap up the series and I can’t wait to share it with everyone!

Q: If you could work with any other famous author, who would it be and why?

A: Lisa Kleypas! She’s just my all-time favorite. Love, love, love all of her books.

Q: What was your favorite scene you wrote, and why?

A: I don’t want to give anything away. But there is a scene involving some magic perfume and sneaking around at a country house late at night and it was just pure fun to write the fall out after that.

Q: What was the hardest scene to write in NO OTHER DUKE BUT YOU, and why?

A: Oh, the last chapter. Not the epilogue, but the last chapter. I wanted it to be perfect. The epilogue is something I’ve had in mind for ages so that was simple.

Q: When working on a manuscript, is it easy for you to keep separate ideas for other projects, or what strategies do you use to stay focused?

A: I usually just jot down a new idea and file it in a folder on my computer. I don’t let much distract me from what I’m working on at the moment. But I always seem to get a new idea when I’m fading off to sleep or driving. It’s never convenient. Ha!

Q: How did you come up with the idea of a love potion to get Delilah and Thomas’s romance rolling?

A: It’s inspired by the love potion in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is just a purely fun play that I adore!

Q: Are you currently working on any other projects you would like to share with your readers?

A: Yes! I’m working on a contemporary romantic comedy called HIRING MR. DARCY. It’s about a history professor who has two weeks to turn her brother’s hot best friend into a suitable Darcy for a competition in Bath, England so she can beat her ex and his new starlet girlfriend. It’ll be out this year! I’m also noodling over a new Regency series that’s going to be outrageous fun!

Q: Do you have a final comment you would like to give your readers?

A: If you read NO OTHER DUKE BUT YOU, I’d love to hear what you think! You can find me at www.ValerieBowmanBooks.com where there are links to email me, tweet me, or find me on Facebook or Instagram.

#Valerie Bowman #Historical Romance #Playful Brides 11 #St. Martin's Press #SMP ROMANCE #NetGalley

[hcliix]

i am small, and the world is big.

her mother leaves for graduation and doesn’t come back for three months. a lot can happen in such a small amount of time. a lot did. ( mentions of @shecanonlycopy & @zairc )

helix lounged around her bedroom, surrounded by the ‘doll army’ she’d created over the years. they were her only company at the moment. her mother had gone to see something called a graduation, a concept helix had only heard of. she didn’t really care what it was. what she had cared about was that ada and zaire would be here, they would be home, and she wanted to see them.

“mama, mama, take me with you! i wanna see big brother and big sister!” she’d begged, but she’d been told ‘no’ countless times. she was always told ‘no’ when she wanted to leave the house. it didn’t matter how many temper tantrums she threw.

and so here she was, sitting and waiting, hoping that ada and zaire might visit, that they would come to her instead. but nothing happened. even in the off chance that someone would come, helix wasn’t allowed to let them in. she was to pretend that no one was home, that she didn’t exist. she had to stay where she was.

day turned into night and she became restless. she tried to keep herself occupied by having a tea party with her dolls. when that didn’t work, she decided to draw on the walls. she drew herself, her mother, and her older siblings, all four of them standing together, though she had to stop when she became too sad to continue.

she fell asleep, believing that her mother would be home when she woke up the following morning.

it was morning. her mother hadn’t returned.

nor had she returned by the following morning.

or the morning after that.

helix had never been left alone for this long. her mother had always promised her that she would come home, that nothing bad would happen to her and that they would read a story before going to bed. that promise had been broken three nights in a row now, and helix’s worry was steadily increasing.

she spent the entirety of the third morning contemplating. should she go out and find her mother? should she stay here and wait faithfully, as she always had? the second option sounded so lonely, so uninviting. what she had to do was clear.

after brushing her hair, she grabbed her two favourite dolls ( she’d made them in the likeness of ada and zaire, so she had something to remember them by ) and headed out the door.

helix had always known the isle was a bad place. she may have been sheltered, but there was only so much her mother could hide from her, and so she knew the stories that spread isle-wide. despite this, her mother had always assured her that they were good people. they had always done the right thing, and so they had nothing to worry about. she had no reason to think her mother was lying to her. she’d never let her down before.

it took her a while to find someone. she hadn’t gone far, taking in everything outside the house. it was a view she’d never seen before. she’d been so intrigued by every little thing that she almost missed the group of teenagers entirely. they couldn’t have been that much older than her, perhaps only by a year or two.

“excuse me,” she said in a small voice, approaching. she smiled softly when they turned to her. “i’m... i’m looking for my mama. could you help me, please?”

the group shared a few unsure looks. one of them, a boy with dark hair, looked down at the dolls she was carrying and frowned, whispering to the girl next to him. she whispered to the girl next to her, then she to the boy next to her. the entire group was in on a secret that helix wasn’t aware of.

the last girl to be told had a sour expression as she said, “what’s your mum’s name, kid?”

“emese.”

there was another group look, but this one was full of frowns and raised eyebrows. while before they’d been confused, now they just seemed annoyed. helix didn’t understand what she’d done.

“it’s okay if you can’t help me --” she started, but the first boy pushed his way forward, eyeing her up and down. his scrutinising gaze made her voice falter. she stepped back.

“you’re a beldam, yeah?” the boy asked. “why would we help you?”

helix’s eyes widened. “...huh?”

one of the girls smiled, but it wasn’t any sort of smile helix had ever seen. there was no kindness or warmth in her eyes, just a spark of mischief and cruelty. it chilled helix to the bone.

“c’mon, man, there’s no need to be so stingy. we know where her mother is. right, guys?” she looked around at her comrades before turning to helix. “your ‘mama’ is gone, sweetheart. she escaped with a bunch of the other villains. she’s in auradon now. she left you behind.”

helix clutched her dolls like lifelines. “m-mama would never! she would never leave without telling me! she’s -- she’s my mama!”

“so?” the boy’s voice was so filled with venom that helix flinched. “she’s a beldam, why would she care about kids?”

“but -- but...”

“do you even know what beldams do?” one of the girls at the rear of the group asked.

helix’s eyes flickered between the group’s faces. they were expecting an actual answer. “we help kids! sometimes... sometimes their parents are mean and they don’t want them, so we create a world where everything is nice and fun for them, and they can stay there forever!”

“don’t fuck with us!” another boy said, pushing past his friends. he was much taller than helix, and it showed when he stood right over her, arms folded. “beldams eat souls! they prey on kids who are unhappy, make them feel secure, then screw ‘em over until they die! what kind of sick twisted fuck are you to lie like that!”

helix cowered, expression one of bewilderment. they did what they did so children could be happy. they were good people.

...right?

“oi.” one of the girls tapped the guy on the shoulder. he stepped back from helix’s personal space. “i don’t think she’s lying. i think she’s just fucking stupid.”

the girl turned to helix, a sweet smile on her face. but it was too sweet. “hey, can i see your dolls? they look really cute.”

glad for the change of subject as well as the compliment about her craftsmanship, helix smiled and offered the dolls, one in each hand. the girl took both of them, turning them around as if inspecting them. then, just as it looked as though she was about to give them back, she threw them on the ground and stomped on them.

“fucking demon dolls, how do i know you’re not gonna use them to spy on us, huh?!”

helix screamed, horrified as the dolls’ faces, designed in her siblings’ likeness, became flat and muddy. a particularly harsh stomp on doll-zaire’s neck tore his head clean off, and doll-ada was now missing both her legs. helix fell to the ground and tried to salvage what she could, but a powerful kick to the head had her falling on her side.

the threatening boy continued to kick her despite her already being on the ground. “KILL THE BELDAM, KILL THE BELDAM!”

the other children joined in, pulling her hair and ripping her dress. one spat on her face. her hands clenched and unclenched, as though her dolls would reappear in her hands, safe and unharmed.

“guys... are you sure this is okay? isn’t she hurt enough?” one boy asked. the voice came from helix’s right.

the first boy, the dark haired one, snorted.

“doesn’t matter. after all, she’s a monster.”

for the two to three months she was on her own, helix learned how to survive. she figured out where to find food and how to avoid the other isle residents. she knew not to bring her dolls with her, and so doll-ada and doll-zaire, while repaired, now sat on her bed untouched. she didn’t have time for tea parties or drawing. she had to cook and clean and keep everything safe.

whatever innocence she’d once had was now gone. it had left with her mother, and she doubted it would come back once she returned. if she returned, she always reminded herself.

but emese did return. yet she wasn’t the mother helix remembered.

there were no more bedtime stories and no cheerful conversations. anytime she mentioned ada or zaire, or how they were doing, her mother would either mumble something about attacking ada or go into hysterics. or both. it was often both.

slowly, very slowly, she learned what happened.

her mother had lured thirty or so students, some of whom knew ada and zaire, who were friends with them, and took their souls. there was no longer any talk of how they helped unsatisfied children find homes. it was just taking souls. her mother had taken children just like helix herself and used them to feed her own personal hunger.

and she’d attacked ada while doing it.

she didn’t know the details. her mother didn’t want to talk about it, and anything she did say on the matter was too nonsensical.

helix remembered what one of the teenagers had said to her.

“she’s a beldam, why would she care about kids?”

she’d tried to convince herself that she and ada and zaire were different, that if anyone would be able to stop them, they could. that she would care. but if she’d attacked ada...

that was when she knew she had to leave. she could remain in this worn house, trying to look after both herself and her mother, especially when her mother wasn’t all there anymore. she needed answers and she needed a life outside of her mother’s now nonexistent protection.

as she’d left, all her mother had said was, “why?” why are you going? why are you leaving me?”

helix had turned around in the doorway, eyes sad and heavy.

“because i’m a monster.”

and then she left.

#sldfksl;dfks;dlkf #idk how accurate any of this is in terms of how the beldams lived #so i tried to keep it as vague as possible #but i have many feelings ok #many many #did i even get the other mother's character right jfc @ me #{ i am small and the world is big | isms } #{para}

[laurlovescookies]

Kadam Week Prompt Six: The Boy in the Well, Part 1 of 2

- Kurt meets Adam’s ex-boyfriend and realizes that he may not have cornered the market on bad relationships.

Soooo, I noticed that there are no horror genre Kadam fics. (Which is ironic, because I’m terrified of even the corniest of scary movies.) So I thought I’d give it a go. This is a fic wherein Kurt and Adam meet while Kurt’s still in high school, shortly before A Very Glee Christmas.

This fic features a morally-ambiguous Adam (to put it mildly.) I know that seems anathema to the Kadam fandom (because Adam is so sweet and easygoing) but I wanted to try it just the same. And also to challenge myself to write outside my comfort zone. ^_^

Adam’s jerk boyfriend is mentioned in this story, but he doesn’t actually make an appearance, for reasons you’ll soon understand if you decide to keep reading.

Warning: Dark fic. Um, Not really any graphic stuff (and no sexual content), but there are some un-jolly shenanigans just the same. Adam is by no means a threat to Kurt, but the same is certainly not guaranteed for some other parties.

*whispers* Run like hell while you can.

-O-

The slithery-dee,

He came out of the sea,

He ate all the others

But he didn’t eat me.

The slithery-dee,

He came out of the sea,

He ate all the others

And he only spared me. –Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, Adapted

-O-

He staggered through the brush, wading through knee-high, frozen snow. But however far Kurt got the man’s screaming still rang in his ears, and there was still the sound of dry leaves and branches being crushed not far away as the black silhouette ploughed after him. It sang, mocking and singsong, although taut around the edges with obvious fury:

“OLLY-OLLY-OXEN-FREE!”

By now the snow was glittering under the stars like a threat. It was scarcely light enough besides to see his own hand inches away from his face, and he kept smacking into trees and getting tangled in branches, liberally scratching him. Again he felt for his phone in his pockets, and again scrabbled at empty space. He’d dropped it. His one lifeline and he’d dropped it.

His ragged breathing appeared in the frosty air in puffs that swam over his face as he hurried downhill, slipping more than once and soaking himself. He forced himself up and running again, heart beating so painfully in his throat and blood pounding so prominently in his ears he wondered that they hadn’t given him away yet. The moon and stars watched through the trees as he swallowed the cries for help that he knew would only kill him in the end.

“DON’T MAKE ME DRAG YOU OUT, YOU DIRTY LITTLE FAGGOT, DON’T MAKE ME COME FIND YOU!”  

However deep he went, Dave’s voice was not getting any further away, and he was clearly following the evidence Kurt could not erase in the snow drifts. He stopped cold and looked round, clutching at a searing stitch in his side. He knew immediately it was no good throwing Dave off track with a false trail—it would only slow him down.

Chest heaving, the young man went deeper, mind blank with futility and hot with terror. He choked on dry sobs, his clawing hands angry-red, aching and burning fiercely.

“I’LL KILL YOU! GONNA RIP THIS KNIFE THROUGH YOUR ASS AND FUCKING CUT YOU!”

Better to give up now—it was the only left to do, besides hanging himself with his coat—he had his pick of trees, none of which he could scrabble into, however—but his treacherous feet kept moving automatically as he crashed through several bare branches. No good, no good, no good, was the mantra his slipping feet kept crushing through the snow.

Kurt tripped over a tree root, and his vision briefly turned white as he fell for the third time, this time feeling an awful pop in his ankle. There was a brief, horrible split second before the pain fully registered that he understood that he’d been hurt badly before he hit the ground. Pain lanced its way up his ankle, throbbing madly. Voice catching in the lump in his throat, he lay crumpled and winded, wet hair falling messily over his face. Any moment now there would be Dave and his knife and he would tear out his throat and it might be a relief, compared to what else the man might like to do. Especially because he’d shown a proclivity towards assault before.

He screwed up his face and moaned.

It also meant leaving his father alone, harming the only friends he’d ever had, possibly even the boy he crushed on, regardless of how he treated Kurt in the end. Strange how evident that was on the cusp of dying. He pressed his bitterly-cold hands against his mouth to restrain the primal shriek of despair that rattled inside his ribcage like a pinball.  

After some time—he couldn’t tell for how long—he rose again, dripping, glowing with cold and hurt, and hobbled forward. There was a retaliatory stab of pain in his ankle with each step, as if he were the mermaid in the original Hans Christen Anderson story.

Gritting his teeth, a fine sheet of sweat on his brow despite the extreme chill, he managed ten steps before he was forced to clutch a tree for support, every inch of him crying for release as he shakily limped away again, spotting a fallen branch. He quickly broke it into an adequate staff, limping with the birch over his shoulder as he came into a small clearing.

Dave’s shouts and intermittent curses had faded somewhat, but he couldn’t have got away so easily. Perhaps the darkness protected Kurt somewhat, but it wasn’t yet late enough.

Kurt came to a stop before a yew tree, sagging against his support, face deathly-white. Gasping, he looked up to find a small well. The weathered, cracked stone and splintery wood looked positively ancient, but maybe it meant there were buildings somewhere not far away. And inhabitants.

Tasting his heart in his throat, Kurt staggered forward, plunging deeper into the heart of the forest. By now the branches had grown so thick and so clustered overhead he couldn’t see the moon or stars anymore; he was running near-blind.

Kurt’s path narrowed into a thicket-tunnel, and he forced himself to crawl through it, previously throbbing hands rapidly losing feeling in them as they slapped forward against the snow. Dave was still yelling what sounded like lewd promises in the distance, but they sounded more distant now.

Not as distant as Kurt would’ve preferred, however. Maybe this pass would be too big for Dave to lumber through.

The inky tunnel eventually began expanding around him, and soon Kurt was able to shakily rise, wincing as he put some pressure on his injured ankle. Chest heaving, he hurried on, falling and rising upon a gently-sloping hill, nearly rolling down upon it twice as he hauled himself up.

It was then he came upon a house. His breath hitched.

It was an enormous, Victorian beauty, pillared and with pale green shingles lacquered so distinctly even in the night Kurt could see they looked like scales. The roof and dilapidated window panels were a dark slate, and upon the roof and ground floor there were iron fences. Somehow they managed to look both delicate and threatening, the intricate, spindly spirals in the metal belying the sharp arrowheads atop the fence. Kurt squinted at it, struggling to breathe.

Had the light been improved, Kurt would’ve been able to fully recognize the weathered loveliness and hideousness of the house. Clearly it had been elaborately designed, with two small towers constructed into its frame.

But with the panels scattered on the snow about it like missing teeth, the faded paint, the splintered wood and the fact that the distinctly-unwelcoming looking place seemed sunken into the snow, it had a foreboding feel of neglect. Had Kurt not been so frightened, he might’ve sensed how the whole place had a stale taste to the air.

But as it was, not even Kurt cared to appreciate aesthetics as he rushed towards the house, rushing past the old gate, which stiffly opened, creaking in his wake.

Kurt ran faster than he ever had in his life, the pain nearly unrecognizable in the face of overwhelming adrenaline. He slipped twice along the way—the stony pass was icy beneath the snow.

He had to drag himself to the door, pounding furiously. “Hello? Hello, is there anyone here? Help! Help me! It’s an emergency!”

Somewhere Dave bellowed his name. Tears dashing down his face, Kurt frantically hammered the door with both fists.

“Please, please, please open up, he’s going to kill me,” he cried, hot tears splashing on the door. “He’s come to murder me and I’ve got nowhere else to go, no phone, so please—“

The dark windows suddenly lit up like jack-o-lantern eyes, painting the outside yellow. A second later Kurt yelped as the door he’d been leaning against disappeared and he crash-landed on a thick plush carpet. Two hands immediately touched his shoulders and he instinctively recoiled, looking up with terrified eyes.

A young blond man was stooping beside him, visibly concerned. The door was shut—the stranger must’ve opened and closed it in a hurry. He withdrew his hands slightly, pale blue eyes wide.

“What happened?” He asked urgently, trying to heave Kurt to his feet. The boy hissed with pain through his teeth and the young man nearly dropped him in his haste. “Oh, oh, you’re hurt—“ He stared incredulously at Kurt’s face, and Kurt wondered wildly if he looked as bad as he felt. “—you really are hurt, you look like you got into a fight with a bear—“

“Please,” Kurt whispered again, tears continuing to fall despite his shock. He couldn’t stop babbling, everything that he’d kept silent for months slipping out from his crumbled defenses: “All I wanted—all I wanted was for him to leave me alone, he kept torturing me every chance I got because he assaulted me, and I left and I just wanted it to be over, but he—he found me—“

“Shhh. Shhhh.” The young man tentatively looped one of Kurt’s arms around his shoulder. This time the latter tolerated the contact, and Adam’s eyes closed for a brief moment.

“The door is locked.” He pointed toward the door with his foot. “And I have a gun.” Kurt flinched, partially out of the insinuation and from guilt over the shuddery wave of relief that passed over him at the words. He normally objected gun ownership. “No one is coming to hurt you, I promise.

“It will be alright,” The young man soothed as he and Kurt stiffly went forward, Kurt dazedly allowing himself to be led. “My name is Adam. Adam Crawford.” He turned to look at Kurt. “You can explain once we get you down—easy, easy now, you look dead on your feet—“ And while Kurt barely took in anything of his surroundings, he felt himself gently lowered on a sofa that sank beneath him. Adam tentatively let him go, muttering beneath his breath as he hurried away, “Water, hot water, bandages, and ice—“

Kurt’s head sagged back against the sofa, and he took in the background with a mite of curiosity. There was a small brass chandelier with glass bulb-frames that looked as if it’d recovered in an antique shop. There were two small chintz armchairs sitting near a beautiful mantle, beneath which was a fireplace. It was surrounded by two enormous shelves filled with leather-bound books with beautiful, peeling good lettering on their spines.

There were delicate tables scattered around the room, and velvet curtains with tassels hung heavily before the windows; he was grateful the drapes were drawn. The wallpaper was a discolored, intricate floral pattern that looked vintage. There was a cabinet filled with delicate-looking teacups, and on the heavy-looking coffee table before him was a glass decanter and two cups. His brow furrowed as he took in the grandfather clock ticking dutifully in the corner and its swinging pendulum. There were some embroideries hanging on the wall beneath glass. Kurt vaguely remembered his grandmother’s home before she passed away.

His eyes fluttered shut and open as he heard Adam’s footsteps approach, and the young man approached him with a tentative smile, bearing a small tray and steaming bowl. “I like your home,” he couldn’t help but say quietly as Adam set the tray on the table and knelt beside him. “Very 1950’s chic.”

“That’s what mother was going for,” Adam said, sounding amused as if enjoying a private joke. He dipped a small hand towel into the hot water and wrung it out. “She always liked to keep it just so. It was my Grandad’s before he died. Sorry—this might hurt a bit.”

Adam prized Kurt’s boot and sock off the swollen ankle, and the pale boy dug his fingertips into the sofa arm and suppressed a whimper. Adam gave him an apologetic smile as he examined Kurt’s puffy, bruising ankle.

“I’m not a doctor, but if you can still flex it—can you flex it? Oh, good. Then it’s likely a bad sprain.” He wrapped the hot towel around the wound and Kurt watched him with eyes filling up again, so grateful he couldn’t speak.

“Thank you,” he managed at last. Adam looked at him, brow furrowing.

“You’re soaked. Can you take off your coat?” Kurt would’ve blushed, but no color rushed into his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get your furniture wet—“

“Nonsense. I just don’t want you to catch your death.” Kurt shed his soaking coat in an instant, and Adam took it away.

The sound of a snap made him jump, and he turned to look at a roaring fire which had certainly not been there before.

“Oh, you have an electric fire,” he said as Adam returned. Kurt thought the fireplace looked like wood-burning one, but you could make anything look like anything for the right amount of money.

Adam looked startled, and then chuckled as he stooped beside Kurt again. “That’s a relatively new addition. This house is historical, so the city of Lima can’t raze it. Not that anyone would care to, anyway—this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

“The middle of nowhere in the middle of nowhere,” Kurt murmured, and was pleased when Adam laughed. Adam had a nice laugh, and for the first time he noticed the taller man had an English accent. A little color did return to his face as Adam poured what smelled strongly of anti-septic into another cloth, and leaned forward to dab it on his face. It stung fiercely; he must be raked raw. “Sorry, sorry. Have to clean these.”

“Does it look bad?”

“What are you apologizing for? And yes, it really does, love. I’m sorry.”

“I can do it if you want.”

“No, pay no mind.” Adam applied a bandage to his cheek, cupping the other to hold Kurt’s face steady. He prayed the latter didn’t feel it burn.

Adam slowly withdrew, reaching for a glass on the table which was filled with something dark and pushed it into Kurt’s hands. Kurt took it at once, too distracted to remember that it had been empty seconds before.

“Now, drink this. It’ll warm you up.” He sat beside Kurt and looked at him expectantly. “Drink this and start from the beginning.

“Whom are you?” Kurt’s eyelashes brushed his cheekbones. He took a sip of the maroon contents a little and coughed at the dry tang of wine, which he’d seldom tasted.

“What’s happening? Who’s chasing you and why?”

“Kurt Hummel.”

Mind racing, Kurt hesitated out of sheer habit, and began.

“I came back from school to spend winter break at my home.” He said sadly, thinking of how worried his father must be at this point. He’d certainly broken curfew by now, and if Dave wouldn’t kill him, Burt would.

If Kurt could stand to tell him the truth. Burt might have another coronary then and there.

“It was snowing outside and so beautiful…it’s been a few years since I had a white Christmas, so I thought I’d go out for a walk on the nature trail a few miles away.” Several miles away by now. He would’ve frozen to death had Dave not got him, had Adam not saved him. Another rush of gratitude. “It got darker faster than I expected.” He closed his eyes, remembering the scene vividly as he’d headed towards his car. “I needed my phone to light my way back to the parking lot.” His fingers tightened in the sofa again. “But there was no one else there, no one but s-someone waiting for me.”

Kurt had to take a few deep breaths, and Adam put a consoling hand on his arm. Smiling wanly at him, Kurt went on:

“His name is Dave Karofsky.” The name felt like something acidic. “It’s because of him I had to change schools, he was—he—“Kurt fumbled. “In the parking lot, he asked me if I’d told anyone that he’d—“ He couldn’t say it. “And I said no. He said ‘Good,’ and then he drew a k-knife from his pocket. He said he was going to cut my tongue out for in-insurance. I ran because he was blocking my way to my car.”

Adam leaned close and Kurt felt like something contaminated. But Adam slipped a finger under his chin and made him look up. “Why was he hurting you?” He said, so gently it made Kurt want to cry again. “If you don’t mind my asking?”

This was dangerous, because Adam might throw him from the house any second, but he owed Adam the truth.

“Because I’m gay.” Kurt bit the inside of his mouth as Adam stared at him. “And I was out at school, and he wouldn’t let up on the bullying, until I confronted him.” He shook his head, so weary he could scarcely hold it up. “I confronted him, and he wound up k-kissing me.” He shrank from the memory, but it followed him. “I didn’t want it, I pushed him away, but he said he’d kill me if I told anyone.” A tear slipped down his face, and Adam thumbed it away, still watching him acutely.

“I didn’t. And I didn’t tell my dad…all of the truth, I couldn’t, he has a bad heart, but he tried to get Karofsky expelled. And failed. The school board took his side. So I just changed schools. Like I said, I came home for the holiday.” A lump rose to his throat again, threatening to burst. “And—“

Adam pulled him into a hug, a tight one, and Kurt squeezed back just as hard, burying his face against the other’s boy shoulder as Adam whispered to him. Kurt was too far away to understand much of it, other than that it was kind, comforting, and beautiful.

Adam pulled back, eyes overbright and with a tremulous smile of his own.

“You know,” He turned to look at the flames, expression inscrutable. “I’ve never met someone whom just…came out and said that before.” He gazed at Kurt again, expression wistful. “Certainly it’s not something I’ve managed yet.”

Kurt frowned, confused. “Come out and—“ His eyes widened. “You…”

Adam nodded, exhaled in a short puff. “Yes. Though I’ve never told my parents. It—“ Now it was Adam’s turn to struggle. “You already know, I’m certain, how hard it is.”

“…you can’t tell them? At all?”

“I never could. Not if I wanted to stay in this house.”

Kurt’s heart broke not for the first time tonight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Adam hesitated, and then slowly took Kurt’s cold hand in his own, squeezing it. Kurt squeezed back, feeling the tips of his ears burning. “Do you know for sure?” he couldn’t help but ask anxiously. Adam looked down at his lap. “That they wouldn’t…accept…”

“One hundred and ten percent,” Adam said offhandedly, though there was a slight tremor at the end. “My parents have made it perfectly clear to me what they think of homosexuals.”  

“What’s that?”

“That they should be gassed.”

Profoundly disturbed, Kurt allowed his head to fall against Adam’s arm—under any other circumstance he would not be so forthwith coming, but he was so vulnerable at the moment he couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry again.”

“You really don’t need to apologize so much, dear.”  

“Are they…are they here tonight?”

Adam looked at the flames writhing again, back at Kurt’s head pressed against his arm. “No. For better or for worse, it’s just you and I. They’re away…quite often.” He snorted near-inaudibly. “And I’m afraid they took the car with them.”

“When will they be back?” Kurt asked hesitantly. “And do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Something in Adam’s eyes flickered. “No siblings. My parents are actually out of the country right now.” Adam grinned weakly. “They’re on their own winter holiday, and I’m on mine. It’s peaceful enough here and I can do all the reading I like, but it’s felt like a very, very, very long holiday, mind you.”

“…I’m…”

Adam poked Kurt playfully on the nose. “I’m going to start charging you money every time you say that. I have enough food to last us through a nuclear holocaust and life in a post-apocalyptic society.”

That wasn’t very reassuring to Kurt. The sentiment must’ve registered on his face, because Adam added, “Even if they were on their way home as we speak, they certainly couldn’t get very far with all this snow. You were right; I’ve not seen so much in years.”  

Suddenly Kurt remembered his own situation, and felt remarkably stupid for having briefly forgotten it. But he’d been so excited to meet another (sane) queer person, and had felt genuine pain for Adam’s situation.  “Do you have a phone? I need…”

He was faced with the awful truth; Karofsky couldn’t be allowed to threaten anyone else. “I need to call the police. Or at the very least my dad, and let him know I’m okay.”

Adam’s face fell a little at that.

“I’m afraid…we do not. Have a telephone, I mean.”

Kurt’s mind wiped itself clean with a blinding-white panic.

“How do you…” he began, and the concept was so utterly alien to him he didn’t know what to say. “Your parents left you here alone without a phone? Not even a cell phone?”

“…I don’t have a cell phone. We did have a phone once, but it was disconnected. And no one ever really bothered to replace it.”

“But you have wii-fi,” Kurt heard himself say feebly. “And I can still send a message to the authorities via email—“

“I’m afraid not. I don’t have any of these things.”

This was so utterly unbelievable and ghastly Kurt didn’t want to believe him, but as Adam steadily held his gaze and looked so genuinely apologetic, he understood with no small amount of dread that Adam was telling the truth. He inhaled a sharp breath, which didn’t seem to reach his lungs…

“Kurt? Kurt, breathe.”

Adam put a steadying hand on Kurt’s back as the smaller boy’s chest started rapidly heaving up and down, spots looming in front of his vision. “Look at me.”

Horrified, he just barely managed to obey, and Adam shushed him. “Hold your breath. Hold—I know, I know, it’s hard, but it will be alright, hold, that’s good, hold, and slowly release. Very good. Another. And again. Remember, slowly. And a bit deeper than that, from your diaphragm. That’s good. You’ve done a fantastic job tonight, Kurt. Call it intuition, but I suspect anyone else in your situation would be dead by now. There we go. Have a bit more wine.”

Shakily Kurt obeyed again, profoundly relieved that someone else was more or less in charge for a change because he was on the verge of falling to pieces. Breathing unevenly, he took a small sip of wine, and then another, savoring the warm bloom in the pit of his stomach. “There really isn’t…you really don’t have wi-fi at all?”  

Adam hesitated again, and then drew a wet strand of Kurt’s hair back. “No.”

“…any neighbors nearby whom do?”

“I’m afraid not, Kurt. This house was built by my granddad to be a summer home far, far away from his business partners at the logging firm he owned in Lima. Otherwise they were forever calling him for help and advice even when he was on holiday…I think that’s why my gran disconnected the phone to begin with. No one else has bothered building out here, and believe you me, I’ve searched.”

He got up and went to look out the window. Kurt wobbled as he stood again in alarm.

“What are you doing? Close them! He might see you!”

“Not in this snow, he won’t,” retorted Adam as he pulled back the curtain a bit more so that Kurt could see. The younger gawked, and wondered faintly if what he saw now was proof of the existence of a all-powerful, omniscient deity. Although whether or not said deity loved or hated him tonight remained yet to be seen.

Enormous, fat snowflakes, the kind that looked like they belonged in a snow globe, were tumbling from the heavens in torrents so quickly it looked like a white, sparkling blur at times. The wind was rising, whistling, and while Kurt’s spirits lifted slightly with the knowledge that an incoming blizzard might deter Karofsky from pursuing him, it would also strand Kurt here.

For whom knew how long.

He swayed. He was in the middle of the wilderness, with no phone, no internet, no neighbors, his car miles away and concealed near a forest no one was likely to visit anytime soon. Not in this weather. Only Adam’s soothing admonitions that he remember to breathe kept him from another full-scale panic attack. How many could he have in one night?

He closed his eyes, the full implications washing over him. He hadn’t told anyone where he had gone this evening. Karofsky certainly wouldn’t divulge that Kurt was missing because he’d tried to slash him open. His mind raced with panic; Burt’s heart would give out. And what would Finn and Carol do, if their brother and stepson never came home? Finn would call the Glee cavalry, that was certain, but again, Kurt had told no one he was, and certainly no one knew he was a tremendous distance away now. Even he didn’t know where he was.  

And his swans…they’d been at the mall together just a few hours ago, laughing and catching up in the food court, tossing fries and blowing straw wrappers at each other. All they’d know was that he’d vanished off the face of the earth. Possibly for days, if what the morning’s forecast said was true.

It was a selfish thought, Kurt knew, but would Blaine even care that he was gone? He didn’t want to answer that one.

“Where’s my coat? I should go, while I have the chance.” he said faintly, opening his eyes again. “I…I have to make my way back, before it gets too bad…follow the tracks I left before they disappear tonight”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Adam said at once, letting the curtain fall again. “And sit back down, Kurt, you can barely stand.”

“I managed before.”

“Barely! It’s a wonder you escaped at all from that menace!”

“…do you have a snowblower? I’d accept a dog sled team at this point.”

Adam’s eyes told him before he’d finished speaking that it was hopeless. “It’s already looking terrible out, and I’m not about to let you go into a storm, hurt and with a maniac out for your blood.” Adam gave him a pitying look, but shook his head in a firm no. “I’m sorry, Kurt.”

Kurt knew Adam was right, but that didn’t stop him from nearly toppling to his ground like some stupid Victorian woman with the vapors and why did he feel so effing fragile tonight when he’d made it a point for so long to be strong? Even when he’d been physically sick in the mornings with fear over going to school, he’d hid it. Now he couldn’t stop feeling as weak as if there’d never be anything again.

The back of his knees hit the couch and he fell back upon it, burying his face in his hands. It didn’t seem like such a bad trade-off for not being killed, but snowbound. He was snowbound, for goodness knew how long. Christmas was in three days, and this was the first one he would spend with a brother. Would’ve. His mind swiftly attacked the thought.

It was very possible that he wouldn’t survive in any case. Not if Dave found them…

A second later Adam was standing in front of him again, thumbing away the fresh wave of tears. “Whatever it might mean from someone you’ve never met—I won’t allow him in, and I certainly won’t let him harm you.”

Adam pulled him into an embrace and allowed Kurt to cry heartily into his shoulder.

#kadam week 2017 #kadam fanfic #kadam #kurt hummel #adam crawford

[absurdvampmuse]

Juxtapositions

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the comic books or the TV series. I am merely borrowing the characters. And all I own is my imagination and the laptop I wrote this on.

A/N: One more story to tide us all over until the next episode. I really hope you'll enjoy it. I also post on Archiveofourown so if you have the time, please find me there and review. :)

Juxtapositions

And despite his bad reputation, he will be the one that makes her feel safe.

Betty had seen him. She had witnessed him slip away when he thought no one was paying attention and walk away as if he had a secret to keep. Instinctively, she had followed him, both surprised and curious when he had led her to the Twilight Drive-In and disappeared inside through the backdoor with his employee key. Jughead hadn't come back out and not knowing quite what to make of it, she had left.

Yet, a couple of days later, on a Sunday morning, Betty couldn't fight the urge any longer, the feeling that something wasn't right. She traced his steps back to the movie theater. It was one of those quiet and crisp mornings on which most people were still lounging in bed or out for a late breakfast with friends. Her restlessness had woken her early and she had left the house swiftly and thoughtlessly in the slightly cropped flamingo pink t-shirt she had gone to bed in over a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and white sneakers. Her initial intention had been to go for a walk to clear her mind, but instead, her feet had carried her with a destination in mind and brought her to the same door Jughead had slipped through a few days before.

Betty tried the door, expecting to find it unlocked since there was usually an employee or two around who had gotten stuck with cleaning or preparing for some kid's party. She had never been inside the drive-in before and found the inside smaller than she had pictured it to be, the short hallway leading to a single room that acted as a storage space as well as held the movie projector. Film reels were everywhere she looked, but scattered throughout she spotted items that didn't belong: a plaid shirt slung over a chair, a pair of black ripped jeans left on the floor, paperbacks stacked on the bed and empty soda cans discarded on the desk. A bag that had clothes spilling from it sat in front of the bed, the entire room a reflection of the boy who had been calling this his home.

Sadness sunk into her bones, leaving her heart heavy. So many questions filled her head. Betty reached for the cell phone she remembered leaving at home after which she realized that Jughead didn't carry one anyway. In her current powerlessness, she lowered herself on the cot Jughead had been using as a bed as she looked around the room once more.

On his bed was where Jughead found her. A sudden and vivid pop of color amid the gray and charcoal, an intentional eye-catcher to draw in his gaze. She lay on her back, one hand curled close to her head while the other was sprawled on the sliver of bare skin that peeked out from beneath the ridden-up shirt. She looked comfortable as if it was something she had done before like she had been in his room before when really they had never been close enough. Each being the third wheel in their respective relationship with Archie. He sometimes wondered if she was as aloof as she seemed while she questioned if he was too aware of everything going on around him. But if he were honest with himself he knew that there were secrets behind those beguiling baby blues while she was aware of the fact that his inquisitive regard for others was a distraction, a way to keep the world and its people at bay.

Figuring that she most likely needed the rest, Jughead moved around the room as if he wasn't there at all, having experience in the act. He considered grabbing his laptop but didn't want to risk waking her prematurely so he settled on a book. He sat back in the single chair in the room, resting his feet on the table. He was on the 4th chapter when her eyes fluttered open, sleep still lacing her limbs as she sluggishly rolled onto her side, eyes instantly finding him.

You didn't wake me," she said in a tone that was supposed to be accusatory though the sharpness fell short.

"You needed it," Jughead declared simply. He held up the open book. "Plus, I've been meaning to reread this."

Her eyes didn't flick to the title of the novel in his hands but remained focused on him. "This is your room," she stated. "Is it that bad at home?" Betty knew that his father struggled religiously with his sobriety as well as maintaining a steady job. It wasn't a secret in this town, but it still hurt since Jughead knew that Betty's source had most likely been a more reliable one and that meant that Archie hadn't managed to keep his mouth shut.

"Dad," he started, lowering his eyes to the pages in front of him as if the solution was right there if he only knew how to interpret the words. "He tries. But after so many times, I don't want to be there and watch him fail over and over. He barely noticed whether I was there or not. It's more peaceful like this. For me."

Betty pushed herself upwards and his eyes shot upwards, her intent clear to him before her feet had managed to find the floor. He got up instead, the book already forgotten on the desk. He paced over to one of the many shelves, arms crossed as he pretended to go through the titles on the film reels.

"Juggy," she said his name softly as she attempted to hand him a lifeline, something to clutch onto so he wouldn't spiral downwards too far.

He recognized the benign intent behind it, even when he felt the anger flare up inside of him, cracking his outer shell. He lost his hold on it as if it were a rope that was being forcibly yanked out of reach. The emotion was misplaced, an inevitable reaction to all the things he had been keeping to himself. And like an out of body experience, he heard and saw the violent way the words left his mouth. "I'm not looking for your pity or help. You weren't even supposed to know. I'm doing just fine." He didn't know whether he was reassuring the girl on his bed or himself. He turned from the shelf to look at her, features set and hard as he continued. "You tell me who's doing better, me, who's on my own or you, stuck in that house with all of your family's lies and secrets all the while keeping up appearances and feigning as if your life is so perfect. Pretense breeds enervation." He delivered the final blow by simply nodding his head in her direction. "Just look at you."

Raw hurt cut through her expression suddenly and sharply and while she attempted to keep it all from showing because she knew this was just him lashing out, a symptom of his pain, the brace face she was putting on was crumbling.

Betty lowered her head, her chest tight and fingers pulling at the covers as she breathed through the tears that were so close to springing to her eyes. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." She looked up at him through hooded eyes. "Like you said, you're doing fine." She got up, fingers curled inwards. "I should get home. But just so you know, those secrets and lies you're referring to, they aren't mine. They're my mom and dad's. And Polly's. I'd like to be free of them one day. Though, I suppose I'd hoped that my friends would already know this." She tried meeting his eyes once, but he looked at everything but her as he silently came to terms that perhaps he was much more broken than he would like to admit.

Betty took the few steps over to the door, but Jughead was faster. He stood in front of her, fingers on her wrist as he caught her before she could pull open the door. "Betts," he said her name as if he already knew how futile his words would seem. The damage was done and hadn't his mom taught him how irrevocable words could be? Still, he tried, pouring all of his regret and dissatisfaction with himself and his situation into the words. "I didn't mean those things."

Betty let out the breath she had been holding, long lashes still hiding her eyes from him. "I know. They still hurt, though." She mustered a watery smile. "But it's okay. You're sad and when people are sad they sometimes pretend they're doing just fine." She used his own words against him to prove a point, even though there was only concern in her expression when she finally looked at him. "Where are you doing to stay once the Twilight Drive-In closes?"

Jughead looked young to her as he just shrugged, not having an answer for her. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed. "You're not alone in this, Jughead. We'll figure something out."

"That's why I didn't want anyone to find out. Especially you. It would be another thing for you to worry about."

She used her free hand to lightly shove against his chest, needing a physical release for the frustration she was feeling towards him. "You don't keep things from your friends just because you think it will worry them. That's what they're for. I'm for."

She tightened her hold on his hand and he smiled. "If I'm the Kettle you're the Pot."

"I'm fine," she told him, not wanting the light to fade from his eyes. She tried pulling her hand free, but Jughead wouldn't let her. A sigh escaped her. "There's something going on. My parents are lying to me about something. Something important. I just don't know what."

"Yet," Jughead fine-tuned her reply. "I'll be the Watson to your Holmes, Cooper."

He said it in a light way, taking the edge from their words, their secrets. Her gaze roamed over his face: the midnight locks so carelessly shoved beneath the crown beanie, the disarming conviction in his jaw and the kindness in his blue and green eyes. She worried about him. About what would happen to him when he already seemed unattached from the world and too derisive for his own good, cutting down not only others with his humor but also himself. But he was also so many other things that you only managed to catch a glimpse of if he let you get close enough. Unable to help herself, her other hand went up and she touched her fingers to his cheek.

"Don't retreat too much, Juggy. I would miss you too much." The words were cryptic but the emotion strong and genuine. It reverberated through him and it compelled him to tug at her hand and pull her against him, holding her to him. Betty's other hand clung to the shirt he was wearing while she pressed her face against his chest, inhaling him while his arm came around her waist. He wished he could take a snapshot of this exact moment, but he knew the restful feeling would be there every time he thought of it. The feeling of home.

"If I don't—can't figure out my situation, I'll let you know," he promised her. "Okay?" He whispered against her, her very feminine scent of vanilla and dandelions enveloping him, a wildness contained. Beautiful and fragile while simultaneously enduring and free. Her fingers were a slight and comfortable warmth against his chest, the thin fabric in between a nuisance, hindering a carnal connection.

He felt her nod against him. "Okay."

They stayed entwined for another breath or two, leaving their imprints on one another before disentangling.

"Let's go to Pop's. For lunch," Jughead suggested.

Betty looked down at herself, all of a sudden self-conscious of the bright pink shade of her shirt, the flash of bare skin. It was an insecurity brought on by her mother.

"Hey, at least you didn't sleep in your clothes."

Betty smiled at that, not thinking about the words too much. "I look fine," she agreed with him.

"Some would say more than fine even," Jughead leaned in and shared recklessly, his lips as close to her skin as they had ever been.

The colors of her cheeks deepened, the tone now closer to the shirt she was wearing. She didn't know where to look, though he offered her a distraction when he grabbed his denim jacket from a makeshift hook behind him and held it out to her. He had noticed how her arm had crept across her waist despite her words, or his.

Betty shrugged on his jacket without saying anything while he pulled on the flannel shirt he had tied around his waist.

Jughead opened the door for her, waiting for her to pass before he followed.

If people saw them, they would appear mismatched but it wasn't the external that bound them together, that mattered.

It was more deep-rooted than that.

#Bughead #betty/jughead #betty x jughead #jughead jones #betty cooper #riverdale #fanfiction #inbetweenep3&4

[saeranlover]

Here, I’ll post the whole oneshot on here too >//<

So be warned, there’s some sexual content-

Saeran had trouble sleeping. You knew that as much as Saeyoung did. The reasons why, however… Were known only to you. Saeyoung assumed that it was the drugs which Saeran had been given when he was the resident hacker of Mint Eye having a lasting effect, and that it would wear off soon.

You knew otherwise.

His slight suicidal tendencies and mood swings at times meant that for the foreseeable future, Saeran was having to take medication. The side-effects included things such as insomnia and random hot flushes which, for the redhead, typically occurred at night when he was trying to sleep.

Also… He was plagued with nightmares of people from the past.

Some days, it was Rika. Her smile and gentle words reminding him of the false truths he had been fed as ever since she had taken him to Mint Eye. On others, it was his mother. The way in which she’d starve, beat, and punish him. On occasion, it was Saeyoung at the centre of the nightmares. Being left alone by him, and seeing his arm bleeding out once they had reunited would be there. And then there was V… The gunshot and the blood is what would come to the front of his mind, alongside V’s words of forgiveness, saying that he didn’t blame him for pulling the trigger.

As Saeran’s first friend since he had been freed from the clutches of Mint Eye, you had promised him that you would always be there for him if he needed you, and that all he needed to do was knock on your door at any point. That was a benefit to working from home as the full-time party planner for the RFA. Jumin paid you to do it all from home.

You believed that it also helped with being Saeran’s friend when it came to the fact that you didn’t develop your relationship with Saeyoung any further than friendship too. Seeing lovey-dovey actions all around him would probably annoy him, and make his emotions even harder to control.

Today was one of the nights where Saeran just couldn’t sleep.

A loud hammering on the door to your home ended up waking you up, and when you checked the time, it was almost one in the morning. You made your way downstairs as the knocking continued, and you peered outside to see the familiar red hair, minty green eyes, and creamy coloured sweater belonging to Saeran.

Quickly, you unlocked the door, and the first thing which came to you was his slightly shaken breathing. “Y- You answered… C- Can you come with m- me somewhere? R- Right now?” His question was straight to the point, but you took a moment to look down at yourself. You were only wearing an over-sized shirt right now… Well, it probably would pass as a dress…

“Can I grab some shoes and a coat first, Saeran?”

“J- Just please… Be quick… I- I’ll be waiting in Saeyoung’s car… Th- The, um… s- silver one. It’s just parked down the road…” Saeran then quickly ran away from your door, leaving you stood there in slight confusion. You assumed that he may have had a nightmare, and was acting rather jittery because of it… But wouldn’t he have come in, rather than asking if you could go somewhere with him?

Once you had some shoes on, and had pulled your coat over your shoulders, you made sure that your phone was in your pocket just in case. After that, you locked up your home and began making your way down the street to the silver sports car which did stick out a bit like a sore thumb to you.

Saeran was sat in the driver’s seat, his sweater now off and bunched up on his lap. You noticed a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. That had to be the hot flush side-effect.

Once you had taken a deep breath, you made your way into the passenger seat beside Saeran, and then sighed once you’d made sure that the door was properly closed. “So… What is the matter at the moment? Can you not sleep tonight?”

“Um… K- Kinda…” He messed with his thumbs for a moment, and then sighed. “I… want to go to a- a place that Zen sh- showed me a few days ago… A- And I want to go there with you b- because I feel calm with you… C- Can you come with me?”

The two of you remained silent as Saeran then began to drive somewhere, but there was one thing which you were glad of. The only times that you left the house was to buy groceries, or to accompany Saeran somewhere. Because of that, you always had a few pieces of candy in your pocket. Whenever the two of you had to stop because of traffic lights, you would pass him some of the candy, and he would give you a silent smile and nod of thanks as it quickly made its way into his mouth.

Eventually, the two of you arrived as a quiet overlook up in the mountains which you had only seen in Zen’s photos up until that point. Seeing the glowing city far away in the distance in contrast to the night sky was quite a wonder… But you noticed how, as soon as Saeran had got out of the car, he had taken to looking up at the sky.

He then started whispering to himself, and when he noticed you looking at him, a soft look took over his face, with his lips slightly turned upwards and his eyes both calm and relaxed. “Saeyoung… He’s been trying to teach me about the constellations in the sky because… he knows that I like looking at them. I… Actually find them really interesting… He said that he’ll take me to the library tomorrow to get some books about them…” You smiled at that. His desire to learn more about everything now that he had the freedom to was quite nice. He seemed to like quite reading literature, or any sort of non-fiction book based on things which catch his interest.

He then started pointing out and naming a few constellations, until a few clouds began to cover the sky, and a few raindrops began to fall. With that, he pulled you back over to the car and pulled you into the back seats. When you offered him a confused look, he then took hold of your hand and sighed. His hand was now just a slight bit clammy, rather than sweaty. The cool air had been enough to bring his overall temperature down.

“I… I get that I probably shouldn’t have woke you up to just bring you here… but…” Saeran started talking again, and stopped when he noticed you shivering. He frowned, and then his arms were suddenly around you, and pulled you close to him. “But… I really like being with you when I can’t sleep… Is that bad?”

You shook your head. “It isn’t, Saeran… It’s not bad. I said that you could come to me whenever you wanted, remember?”

Saeran fell silent then, before he frowned. “No… I really like being with you.” A quick glance of confusion was given to him, before he huffed like a child and pushed you down into the seats and pressed his lips against yours. “I. Really. Like. You.”

 Oh.

His hands were pressing into your hips, and his eyes were wide out of what appeared to be desperation. “The past few days… I’ve not been able to sleep. But instead of it being all of the bad people in my life keeping me awake, it’s been you.” His breathing now seemed a million times louder to you, and it sent your heard racing. “I- I didn’t know what was happening in my head… You were saying my name, o- over and over… A- And you were making sounds which made my b- body react in strange ways…” He then gulped, and kissed you once more. “Coming to you tonight… And doing this… It just feels right… C- Can I do this with you?”

“Okay, Saeran… I trust you, do what you wish…”

“Thank you…” He then kissed you for a third time, and slightly adjusted the position that the two of you were in so that he was nestled between your legs as he pressed you down into the car seats even more.

 If this made a mess of the seats, Saeyoung was likely to eternally tease both of you…

Saeran then started running his hand through your hair as his tongue quickly began to press into your lips and found its way into your mouth. Your hair seemed to be like a lifeline to him, as his fingers were quick to tangle into it and tug at it slightly. Meanwhile, you could taste the sweetness of the candy which you had previously given to him on his lips.

Then you felt his spare hand move to the large shirt you were wearing, and it began to snake up your stomach and to your chest as your back arched slightly at the slight tingling feeling he had left behind from his touch. His fingers then began playing with the flesh, as though it were like a soft toy which you could play with to calm down. You laughed against his lips at the way in which his fingers would warily play at your nipples, as he would begin blushing madly.

Eventually, a quiet moan escaped from your lips as Saeran applied a slight bit more pressure between your hips, and he smirked. “You look pretty underneath me like this… Can we do this again at some point?”

As you nodded, Saeran tugged at your hair once more, and made you gasp loudly. When he did that though, his hand began to trail downwards again, and moved to the panties you were wearing. The sudden feeling of his hand against your clit with the material acting as a barrier and causing friction made you moan even louder than before, and his eyes widened. “These are the sounds you’ve been making when in my thoughts… Can you make more of them? I really like them, they make me feel… Calm…”

As you nodded, he was quick to literally just rip your panties off, and his hand loosened itself from your hair just to throw them aside. A bright blush took over your face then, and you honestly felt as though you understood what Saeran’s hot flushes felt like when he moved back as much as he could within the car, and dipped his head down so that he could stroke his tongue across your opening.

“A- Ah~ Saeran-!” You cried out his name almost as encouragement to get him to do more like that. So, he began alternating between sucking at your clit, and licking at you. He absolutely loved the sounds you made, and he needed to hear more.

When you ended up reaching your release as he kept his mouth working, you shivered as he lapped up everything. You covered your eyes in embarrassment when he then sat up, and wiped his face which had a slight trail of drool escaping his lips. “You taste… Better than candy. I’m definitely going to have to do this again…”

After that, Saeran leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, making sure that you could taste yourself as his hands worked at loosening his pants. You were too focussed upon the taste entering your mouth as Saeran was able to free himself, and press himself up against you. You only realised when he was able to push himself into you, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making you gasp and press your body against him with your eyes wide.

Saeran’s look on his face softened when he moved his hips, and heard you gasp quietly. He then began to pick up a pace with thrusting into you, and eventually, the two of you were a tangles mess of cries, whimpers, bodies, and sweat. Saeran was going to definitely definitely definitely do this again with you.

Soon enough, the two of you ended up reaching your orgasm together, and Saeran gave you a sweet smile when he finally ended up pulling out of you and sorted his clothes out.

But you were now asleep, and he had a feeling that he was now going to be able to sleep tonight too… First though, he needed to get you home…

“Actually… I’ll take her back home with me…”

Come the morning, you sat up and rubbed your eyes just to realise that your surroundings weren’t your usual ones. You knew exactly where you were though… You were in Saeran’s bed.

 Next to Saeran.

 Who was still fast asleep.

A few moments later you realised that your phone was on a bedside table, and kept going off with notifications. There was a chatroom open…

 Saeyoung: I AM SO NOT IN A GOOD MOOD

 Yoosung: What’s going on?

 Saeyoung: I’M GOING TO HAVE TO PAY SO MUCH TO HAVE THAT SORTED OUT NOW

 Yoosung: Um… Saeyoung?

 MC: Saeyoung, what’s the matter?

 Saeyoung: MY BABY

 Saeyoung: SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED TO ONE OF MY BABIES.

  From beside you, you noticed Saeran stir, and his hand reached out from under the covers to grab his phone, before his head went under the covers too.

 Yoosung: Something happened to one of your cars?

 Saeyoung: WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST FIND

 Saeran has entered the chatroom

 Saeran: Shut up. I can hear you from my room.

 Saeyoung: YOU… SAERAN!!! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!!!!

 MC: Um…

 Saeran: Explain what exactly?

 Saeyoung: WHY IS THERE SOME SORT OF STAIN ON THE BACK SEAT OF ONE OF MY BABIES

 Saeyoung: AND WHY. IS. THERE. SOME. WOMEN’S. UNDERWEAR. IN. THERE.

 Saeran: … What makes you think that was me?

  You sighed, and hit the lump which you knew was Saeran under the covers.

 Saeyoung: YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN GET TO MY BABIES

 Saeran: Fine. MC’s hitting me so I might as well confess.

 Yoosung: Wait… MC is with you?

 Saeran: I fucked MC in your car last night.

 Saeran: And brought her back here.

 Saeran: Enjoy your gift of ruined panties in your car.

 MC: >//<

 Saeyoung: SAERAN CHOI I AM GOING TO GET YOU BOTH RIGHT NOW

 Saeran: MC, I’m going to get out of bed now. Please don’t hit me again. I confessed, didn’t I?

 MC: I'm so sorry for this, Yoosung >o<

#mari's mysme writings #mystic messenger #mysme

[otpmikeira]

A Piece of the Soul ||  Bodyguard AU Fic

Written By the Fabulous : @volkov-mikhail

I stood at the foot of the stairs, my hands folded behind my back. I dropped the signature bodyguard stance only a few times over the past hour to glance at the watch around my wrist. Rolling my eyes each time, and scoffing when I heard the clacking of heels a floor above me.

           “O’Conner, let’s go! You’re late already!” I yelled up the stairs. Of course, the princess had to look perfect for the gala this evening. Even if that meant showing up almost an hour late. But what did she care, anyway? She was Keira fucking O’Conner. She got just about everything she wanted, without argument.

           “I’m coming! I’m coming!” My stance had somehow transitioned from professional to slouchy and scowling, my arms crossed over my chest.

           “It’s about damn time,” I muttered, getting a whiff of her perfume right before she flew past me to the closet, digging around for her overcoat. She always wore rose, smelling as fresh as a vibrant pink petal in the middle of summer.

           “Calm down, grumpy pants,” she was saying. “It’s not like you’d get in trouble if I was late.” When I opened the front door, she was wrapped up in her burgundy jacket, her bedazzled clutch tucked under her dainty arm. Instead of gracing her with a reply, I grunted a complaint in Russian, closing the door behind her and following her out to the car.

           “Where’s Richard?” I asked, unable to hide the smirk crossing my lips. “He finally got too annoyed with you?”

           “Actually,” she snapped, climbing into the driver’s seat of my black Volvo. “He had a music event to go to. He’s going to show up later.” Did she think I didn’t notice she was trying to drive my car? I gave her an incredulous look, waving her off.

           “Nice try.” She always liked to think she could just hop in my car and drive wherever the hell she wanted to go. She liked to make things difficult like that. Keira’s response was an eye roll before she climbed across the dash to the passenger seat. I saw a flash of emerald material beneath her jacket, and the golden straps of her heels before the fabric of her dress spilled back down her calves, concealing her legs and feet.

           “Anyway, I like showing up alone to these sorts of things.” She said, referring to Richard and his absence.

           “Is that because he never shows up to these things?” The silence that followed made me feel like an asshole, so I shut my mouth and started the car.

           “It’s because all the cute boys at the gala take turns asking me to dance all night.” She replied, cocking her head towards me, daring me to insult her again. I averted my gaze to the street ahead and bit my tongue. When our gazes locked, we both had this terrible habit of tossing heat at each other, challenging each other to say something past the very fine line our relationship teetered on. I would be lying if I said it was strictly professional. I’d witnessed too many personal moments of hers to consider myself removed emotionally, and she could probably say the same.

           Not that I was attached to her emotionally. Just that I had seen shit, you know. Like with her mom, with her career. The moments she needed to be let alone, I was outside the door, my chest tightening with each cry she’d let escape. I knew things about her, things that not even her mother knew.

           But Mrs. O’Conner was another story completely.

           “We’re here.” I said, steering the car and my thoughts to the task at hand. A valet came out and took the car while I came around and opened the door for Keira. When I offered my hand to help her, she ignored me, stepping out of the car with graceful ease. How the hell did she do that? Especially in those five inch heels?

           I slid on my sunglasses, my hands folded in front of me, following close behind her. I was dressed a step up from my normal attire. Instead of dark wash jeans and a black tee, I pulled on some black trousers and one of my nice black button-down shirts. I also ditched the leather jacket, combed my hair back a little, and shaved that morning. Apparently, it was a big event for Mrs. O’Conner. And everyone associated with her needed to look top notch.

           I opened the large doors for Keira, holding my hand out. “Jacket,” I said, beckoning for it as soon as we stepped inside.

           “I can put it away myself,” she said, pulling it off and walking it over to the coat check, smiling warmly and greeting the man. He seemed genuinely flattered that the reputable Keira O’Conner was giving him the time of day.

           She emerged from the dim corner of the lobby, looking up at me. “Ready?” she asked, her fingers fiddling with the clutch between her hands. It was then that I noticed her dress. The dark green fabric clung to her curves, flaring out mid-calf. The fitting of the dress itself was designed by someone who truly understood the woman’s figure. With the low cut and the even lower back, it stole my fucking breath away.

           “Mikhail,” she said again, and my eyes finally lifted back to her face. The bold red lipstick highlighting those gorgeous lips, soft eye makeup that made her steel gray eyes pierce everything she gazed at.

           “Yes.” I said. She was so unbelievably beautiful.

           “Are you sure? Because you look half out of it,” she grinned a little, the dimple in her cheek winking at me.

           Fuck.

           “C’mon, O’Conner.” I started past her, pushing a hand through my hair, but she reached up to stop me. Her arm tightened on my bicep and like a spell I stopped in my tracks, turning to look down at her. “Are you ready?”

           “No,” she said, biting her lip. Her eyes flicked to the set of double doors that led to the party. We could hear the music coming from within, along with the loud chatter of people who were quite possibly buzzed and well on their way to getting drunk.

           “C’mon, do you really care about what any of these socialites think?” I asked, determined to keep my gaze on her eyes and not let them slide south.

           Her eyebrows furrowed a little, but she said nothing. To some, it was nothing. But to me, it was everything. She didn’t give a shit about the snotty rich people inside. What she cared about was the woman receiving the award that night. The woman who was progressing in her career by humiliating Keira, and threatening her to go along with all of it.

           For the second time that night I felt like an asshole for being mean to her.

           “Don’t think about it tonight.” I murmured, offering my arm to her. This time she took it, her fingers digging into my arm like it was her lifeline. “You owe her nothing.”

           With a deep breath, she nodded. “We need a drink.” We both smiled wryly at each other, and headed into the gala.

             Two hours and four mojitos later, Keira was letting loose with some of the other girls on the dance floor. She’d done well on stage when the speech about her mother began. She clapped politely, smiled proudly, and even gave her mom a hug in front of the cameras. She was rewarding herself for a job well done, because the roughest part of the night was over. And she fully intended on enjoying herself tonight, drinking away the unresolved mixed feelings about her mother.

           I knew exactly what she was doing. I also knew she deserved to let some of that weight roll off her shoulders, so instead of telling her to stop drinking (like I normally would have) I simply sat back and counted her drinks. I even bribed one of the waiters to swap one of the drinks with water and make it look like a mojito. Ker was tipsy; she didn’t even notice.

           “Mikhail!” she called out for probably the third time that night. She waved me onto the dance floor but I just snorted and waved her off. She knew I took dance lessons when I was younger. And ever since I accidentally let that information slip, she was trying to get me to dance with her. Which I highly doubt was what her mom was paying me for.

           Anyways, every time I shook my head, she told the waiter to get me another drink. I was casually sipping, leaning against the wall off to the side and watching the guests dance. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t buzzed at all. I hadn’t really kept track of what I was drinking, or how much for that matter.

           I was too distracted. Keira was so mesmerizing. There was something different tonight. Her hair was brushed all over one shoulder, leaving the other side exposed. I wanted to kiss the milky skin where her neck and shoulder met. I wanted her to stain my lips and neck red with that lipstick she wore. I wanted rose petals to be all I smelled. Watching her dance to the beat of the music, moving with the steady thrumming of the latest pop song had me nodding along to the rhythm. Every so often she’d glance over at me, just for a second. She’d look away quickly, but only after she processed that I was staring at her the whole time.

           Once the song ended, another began. This one was much slower, the chords from the piano’s introduction emanating throughout the large ballroom ((Please Don’t Go by Barcelona)). Couples began to pair off, while the single stragglers made their way over to the bar to get a refill. Keira’s eyes met mine this time, and when we locked gazes, I downed my drink and followed her silent request. Dance with me. Something about the way she looked at me told me I had no choice.

           When I reached her, my arms immediately found their way around her waist. A moment ago we were across the room from each other. Now there was barely a breath separating us. I smelled mint on her breath from the mojito as she tilted her head up towards mine. We swayed to the song, falling towards each other, chests, hips legs touching now. We were still gazing at each other, and it felt like some of my soul was escaping me, sliding between her parted lips and settling into her chest. A piece of my soul that I would never get back, no matter what. Terrified that I’d never get it back when I realized how deep I was. How much I needed this, needed her.

           “Mikhail,” she whispered in a soft gasp. I realized my grip on her had tightened, that I could feel her chest expand every time she breathed.

           Instead of speaking, I finally turned my head down to hers, my nose touching hers, my breaths coming out shaky. “Keira…” My fingers slid up her side, from the curve of her hip, over her ribs and brushing the soft skin of her shoulder, meeting the ends of her auburn curls. “My Ker.” My eyes fell shut as the song lulled us in the sea of couples dancing. I was as light as air, floating beside the clouds with this beautiful girl in my arms. I tilted my head to the side, lips brushing against hers.

           “Mikhail,” she murmured again, her lips moving against mine. Her hands squeezed my arms and my eyes opened wide, looking down at her.

           “Sorry,” I said, my heart racing. I needed to get away from here, from her. Before I did something stupid. Before I knocked us off the line we’d been teetering on for months. “I’m… I should go…” I pulled away. Her hands slid down my shoulders and arms as I put distance between our bodies. When our hands touched, it took everything in me not to hook my fingers through hers and tug her out with me.

           But somehow I held myself back. I turned away, rushing out of the ballroom and into the cool wintery air. I paced in front of the building, running my fingers through my hair, trying to catch my breath. My chest hurt, why did it hurt like this? Why did every step I took away from her feel so fucking wrong?

           I wasn’t thinking straight. That was it. It had to be. I would put my conscience to rest by blaming it on the alcohol. Because clearly I was drunk and out of my damn mind. I dig through my pockets for the keys to the car, realizing belatedly that I left them inside Keira’s coat pocket so I wouldn’t have to carry them.

           “Fuck.” I turned to head back into the building, but stop suddenly when I see her standing there. Her breath came out in short puffs, visible in the cold. She was holding her jacket in one arm, my keys in the other.

           “You forgot your…” and just like a spell again I’m walking towards her, forgetting all about how wrong it would be to kiss her. Because since I spent half the night wondering what she tasted like, I had nothing holding me back in this moment.

           I take the last few stairs two at a time, rushing up to meet her. Her eyes, stormy with lust that reflected my own. Many things unspoken remained unspoken as I reached out for her. Her eyes closing in anticipation, lips parted, awaiting mine. And all I could think was, finally.

           “Keira! There you are,” Richard’s irritating voice cut through, searing the moment, searing everything. I clenched my jaw to hold back the awful things I wanted to say.

           “Oh, Richard,” Keira said, blinking as if she were confused as to how she got out here. “You came.”

           “Of course I came, babe.” There was distance between her and me, growing larger the closer he got. “What are you doing out here in the cold?” he took her jacket, purposefully ignoring me as he led Keira inside.

           She glanced once over her shoulder at me, barely able to meet my eyes before turning away, leaving me standing in the wintery night, cold and alone. Still missing that piece of my soul, still wondering about the taste of her lips.

#MY BABIES #Bodyguard AU #Mikeira #This was my birthday fic #and OH MY GOD what a fic it is #SHDLKHWERKLEWR #:D #Written By the FABULOUS #volkovmikhail