#me @ my increasing despair that travel will be a no go until the end of the year

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

29 - Safeword

This chapters songs:

Softcore; The Neighborhood

I Wanna Be Yours; Arctic Monkeys

Safeword; TV Girl

- Y. L.

I nod my head, turning my face to the beautiful guy that walks toward me and smiles. He suddenly slumps himself onto me as I'm facing down on his bed and attempts to tickle me. "Hey! Get off!" I exclaim like a child waving my hands above my head. The smell of fresh soap and lavender fills my nostrils. "You smell good."

"Hm? Well, I would hope so, I just showered," Koshi replies, muffled in the nape of my neck. His hands wander down my arms and grab my wrists, lifting them towards his mouth. He gently kisses the tips of my fingers to only make me more flustered. Then, he presses his lips against the back of my neck, causing me to flinch.

"I'm sorry, is that okay?" He asks if he was allowed to kiss me. Whatever did I do to deserve someone who truly cared about my every perception?

"Mhm," I mutter, turning around to face him.

Koshi lays his lips on me, inhaling deep in satisfaction. My eyes flutter under him as embarrassment clouds me. I curse myself for letting my mind wander. The position we were in could lead to many things, but I wasn't willing to put an end to it.

His pale face looks even more beautiful than ever under the lamp light, defining his strong jaw and red lips. I couldn't wait any longer to taste them, driving me to gracefully place mine against his. At first, it's only gentle kisses that we share. That is until he pushes me down against his pillow and holds my wrists in a grasp impossible to escape. It felt like a dream I was living, for never had I felt so needy for Koshi. My core tightened as he fit himself between my legs and rested even more of his weight against me.

"Hey, are you sure this is okay?" He pulls away from my lips for a second.

"I don't know..." I admit to him. "Maybe if we just see how far I can go if that's okay. D—do you want more than that?"

Koshi's cheeks heat up at my question and he bites his lower lip in despair. "Not if you don't. So...yeah, I guess we can experiment. You need to tell me the second you feel uncomfortable, okay? I'm not going to ever force something you don't want. Our safeword can be a simple 'stop'."

I smile at his words. "Okay."

He lays his hand against the back of my thigh, pulling my leg to fit around his waist. His hips knead against mine and it becomes striking he was excited to discover this side of me. His body was warm, especially his lower region.

To distract me from the feeling of his hardness grinding against the thin cloth that prevented too much touching, Koshi pushes his tongue into my mouth and searches for a sense of pleasure. Finally finding it, I unintentionally moan around his mouth.

"Fuck," Koshi whispers as we can barely open our eyes. He continues to aggressively kiss me, softly biting my top lip while he snakes his hands around my hips, his fingers traveling under the shirt that I wore. "Your skin is so soft," he says, fiddling with the edge of the shirt. "Can I take it off?"

"Uh-huh," I whimper, watching as he undresses me. I follow the way he lays his lips on my neck, leading down to the edge of my bra. Koshi was moving quicker than I had expected. Not rapidly, but not unhurried either. I didn't blame him—it had been months since he had committed anything sexual with a girl. As for me, I was a complete fool, not knowing how to go about pleasuring him.

I look up at the ceiling and run my hand through his silver locks, my senses rising as he marks my chest with a small love mark right above my breast, which was still covered with white lace. My heavy breath slowly increases as he finds his way back up to my mouth and swept his tongue back into my mouth.

Koshi abruptly sits me on his lap and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me toward his body. I was in love with how his muscles flexed out of his stomach and back, giving my hand something to touch other than his boner. With our tongues wrestling, I push my hips forward and feel his member grind against my underwear, causing him to groan desperately. It terrified me how large he was just by foreplay. Is this what I'll have to endure?

I wanted him badly at the moment. There was nothing else my body craved but him. However, my mind told me something else. If I wasn't certain I was prepared to lose my virginity, it signified I wasn't. It didn't matter how satisfying it felt to have him gently touching me as no one had before, how pretty the sound of him moaning, I felt nauseous thinking of going any further. In that case, I whisper, "Kou, stop."

The man hastily opens his eyes and detaches my hips from his. He places his hands on my hips in an appropriate manner, speaking up, "I went too fast, didn't I?" He furrows his brows in despair and presses his forehead against my chin. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel rushed."

"It's not that at all, love. I'm fine," I read it, combing back the silver hair that covered his ears. "I think this is all I can do right now. I'm so sorry for stopping—"

"No, no, Y/n. Don't apologize. I'm glad you told me you weren't ready yet." Koshi takes a deep breath and hugs my waist, rubbing my back with his hand.

"I should be more aware that you have needs, still. I there is anything else you want me to do for you I might be able to," I communicate. Sugawara deserved to feel pleasured after all of the efforts he has put into our relationship.

He lays me back down on the bed, where I pull the shirt he took off back onto my torso, shy of what he has seen of me already. "You're so sweet," he concedes. "I'm satisfied with what we've done already. Thank you for sharing that part of yourself with me."

"Of course, Koshi."

He lays down next to me, wrapping his legs around mine and gracefully hugging me from behind. For the first time, I let a man touch me, I'm glad it was Koshi. This day will be one I'll never forget.

-

Uhh ahhhh uhhahauaniwndjs

- estrxlar

[ellcrys]

You ever write up a post and then delete it bc it’s like ah fuck who even cares?

#me @ my increasing despair that travel will be a no go until the end of the year

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

And Tomorrow, Too.

I'm back!

Much love and many thanks to @stinastar @hailhailsatan @newnamesamecharlotte and @veritasrose for helping me yank this thing out of my brain!

Please enjoy this hurt/comfort that ends with glorious, glorious fluff.

TW: Blood, canon typical injury, infection

Jaskier was having a very rough day, objectively speaking.

He’d just finished dressing after a dip in the river when a lone bandit surprised him, shoving him to the dirt and kicking him in the ribs to keep him down. Having dealt with a gut-punch from a Witcher, Jaskier had recovered faster than anticipated and tackled the stranger to the ground.

“Foolish troubadour,�� the bandit snarled. There was the quick flash of something silver and a sudden white-hot pain shot up the bard’s side from his hip to his ribcage.

“Shit,” Jaskier gasped, clutching desperately at his slashed doublet. The panicked bandit scooped up the largest of the bard’s travel bags and darted into the woods, leaving his bloodied weapon lying atop a pile of leaves beside his victim. When Jaskier pulled his hand away from the wound on his ribcage he grimaced; that was more blood than he’d been hoping to see. “Fucking cock.”

After he stripped to the waist and rinsed off in the river a second time, Jaskier took inventory of himself. The cut started at his left hip and slid up his ribcage to just beneath his left shoulder, and it was practically impossible to bandage; any attempt to wrap the upper half of his injury made him bite his lip to keep from screaming in anguish.

It was agony to move more than a few inches in either direction, since the twisting motion pulled at his torn skin and stung like hellfire. All he could really do was apply a loose poultice of chewed mint leaves to ward against infection and tie his shirt around his torso in lieu of a bandage. His cloak would have to work even harder than usual to keep him warm until Geralt arrived.

“Alright, well,” he muttered to no one as he accounted for the rest of his scattered clothing and supplies. “I need to find somewhere to rest and gather what wits I still possess… somewhere that’s still close enough for Geralt to find me. Shit, this isn’t good.”

The bard thanked every god he knew when he managed to find a small cave less than a hundred yards from the enormous oak tree where he met Geralt every year. He limped his remaining belongings into the slightly cramped space and deposited them against the left wall.

---

Fortunately for Jaskier, the idiot bandit had declared his beautiful elven lute “too bulky and annoying to carry”, and had left Sexy well enough alone. Unfortunately, the ruffian had still made off with all the bard’s coin from at least two months’ worth of contracted performances, most of his medical supplies, and most of his rations, as well.

But Jaskier had spent years at Geralt’s side and the Witcher had taught him how to deal with emergencies of every variety. Jaskier wasn’t about to disappoint his companion by flailing about ineffectively like some noble-born dunce at a time like this. No, Jaskier was determined to be healthy and ready to travel again by the time Geralt arrived in Kaedwen to find him. They only had a week or two together before they separated again for the winter and he wasn’t going to lose a single precious second in Geralt’s presence due to some silly highwayman.

Lovelorn fool that he was.

The bard used his remaining strength to gather a few armfuls of firewood and light some dried leaves with his flint and steel. He laid out his bedroll against the back wall so that he could see clearly if anyone approached from outside and wrapped his arms around Sexy to keep her safe. He re-wrapped his wound with more crushed mint and laid down to try and get some sleep.

Hopefully Geralt would arrive soon with his medical supplies and more water.

Hopefully.

---

After two long days spent huddled in a miserable lump at the back of the cave, anxiously scanning the horizon for any sign of another bandit (or Geralt) and unable to gather food or kindling, Jaskier was exhausted from lack of sleep. The wound in his side ached and burned far worse than it had on that first afternoon, aggravated by sweat and debris that had crept through his makeshift bandages.

Any added pressure around the edges of the cut made the skin nearly creak with the building strain of infection. He whimpered involuntarily every time he took a breath and trembled at any shift in the autumn breeze. It seemed as if his very bones were aching as his body flashed between the white-hot and freezing cold of a raging fever.

Slowly, and with a great effort on the part of his illness, Jaskier succumbed to the injury and sank into the quiet warmth of unconsciousness.

---

“Jaskier?” Geralt called, guiding Roach around another circuit of the old oak tree. “Are you there, Jaskier? We need to make it to the fork in the Pontar before the harvest ends and I’m in no mood for practical jokes.”

Nothing.

All his Witcher hearing picked up on were leaves twitching in the wind and a few rabbits foraging off to his left. Not even Jaskier could stay so still, even for a joke; his heartbeat and the uptick in his breathing would give him dead away.

“Well, I’m going to town.”

Geralt was about to wheel Roach back toward the road in search of a nearby inn when he caught a whiff of something on the wind - something that sent his heart plummeting into his boots.

Blood.

Jaskier’s blood. And it wasn’t fresh.

He dropped silently from the saddle and gave the signal for Roach to stay put. After a few careful breaths and some shuffling through the autumn leaves, Geralt discovered the bandit’s discarded dagger, still rusty-red around the tip and left edge.

“Fuck! Jaskier!” Geralt called, glancing around the small copse in the woods. “Jaskier, where are you!?”

The Witcher closed his eyes and tilted his head back to better clear his airways. He took a deep breath in through his nose and focused every one of his heightened senses on locating the bard. There it was again to his right, but slightly stronger. “Fucking hells.”

Geralt did his best to follow the trail without panicking. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he lost his head while the bard was in mortal danger. If the bard was in mortal danger, he tried to reassure himself.

But if Jaskier had recovered he would have been waiting at the oak. Geralt knew that. He knew it with every fiber of his being, though he wouldn’t admit anything aloud. Jaskier’s long autumn absence had already set him on edge when he’d caught the blood-smell. “Gods-dammit, bard. Please be alive. Please, Jaskier, I can’t-”

Geralt bit his tongue and continued to follow the bard’s weak scent into the woods. After too many minutes - perhaps five or six at the speed Geralt was moving - the Witcher reached a small cave. The mouth of said cave was nearly covered-over with dry leaves and Geralt could tell, even from this distance, that Jaskier was not faring well at all. The whole area smelled like rot. Like decay. If it weren’t for the bard’s fluttering heartbeat echoing faintly from within the tiny cavern, the Witcher would have fallen to his knees and wept with despair at his untimely death.

When Geralt ducked inside and reached to pull Jaskier into his arms, the bard struggled weakly. “No, please,” he rasped. “D-Don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Jaskier,” Geralt replied softly. He shifted the thick leather strap of Sexy’s case over his shoulder and hefted the bard into his arms in one swift movement. Those usually brilliant blue eyes looked up at him in utter confusion. The irises were dull and foggy with sickness; the Witcher’s heart lurched in his chest and he turned back to the path, doubling his speed in his hurry to reach Roach. “You don’t have to worry any more, sweet Julek. I’m going to get you to safety.”

“If you must kill me-” Jaskier continued, muttering frantically as if Geralt hadn’t said anything at all “-then p-please do me one last f-favor. I need you to p-please find a Witcher. F-Find the White Wolf. Tell h-him… Tell him that I…”

Then the weight in Geralt’s arms seemed to increase by a fraction and the bard went silent. The Witcher shook the sweating, shaking bundle in his arms but Jaskier remained quiet.

“What do you want to tell him, Jaskier?” Geralt glanced down. His eyebrows furrowed deeply when he realized the human had fallen unconscious. The hummingbird pace of Jaskier’s fluttering heartbeat began to hammer even faster and his breaths were far too shallow. The Witcher rumbled out a determined, desperate plea the universe to save his darling songbird, followed by a quiet but emphatic, “Fuck.”

---

“Eskel!” Geralt kicked down the door to the kitchen of Kaer Morhen with one solid boot. He hadn't slept in two days and his body ached from sprinting up the path with a full-grown man in his arms. “Eskel, Vesemir, please!”

“Fuck, is that Geralt!?” Eskel came whipping around one corner at a sprint. Lambert and Vesemir were close behind, Lambert with a sword drawn and a scowl on his face. He lowered it when he saw that Geralt wasn't being pursued.

“Please, Ves, Eskel, please, help him to survive because I can’t- I can’t-” the White Wolf, for all his bravado and stoicism, was panting furiously. His kinsmen knew that he'd be crying if he had the capability to do so and crowded closer to help. Geralt immediately handed a warm, damp bundle to his Eskel with incredible gentleness and care. He looked up at the slightly taller Witcher and begged with all the strength he had left: “Please. I can't let him die.”

---

Jaskier woke up with a sharp gasp. His side radiated a dull, persistent kind of agony and he felt sick to his stomach. With a low groan he turned to retch off the side of the bed, into a conveniently placed bucket. He shouted when the movement made his wound ache all the more. “Fuck!”

The bard heard a heavy thud from his left followed by some clattering and a quietly whispered, “Shit.”

“G’ralt?”

“Jaskier!” the Witcher appeared at his side in a flash. Geralt leaned over him with a damp cloth in hand and wiped at the corners of his mouth. “You’re alive! Melitele be thanked. Do you need to be sick again? Would you like some water?”

“You’re o-oddly verbose,” Jaskier managed to half-smile.

“Was worried.”

“There’s my monosyllabic Witcher,” the bard grinned through his blinding pain. “It hurts, Geralt. Rather terribly.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t- We’re all Witchers so it’s not…” Geralt sighed and turned away to rinse the cloth in a bowl of cool water that had been resting on the sill. “We didn’t know which kind of herbs were safe for humans and which weren’t.”

“We?”

“How’s the patient?”

Jaskier's snapped to the doorway and his body automatically jerked in surprise. He whimpered at the reaction it elicited from his injury, his ribs blooming with a sharp sting. “Shit!”

“Fuck!” the red-headed man in the door replied, slamming his hands over his face. “I’m so sorry. Shit in the fucking nine hells.”

“Uh…”

“Jaskier, this is my brother Lambert. Lambert… This is Jaskier.”

“Ah yes,” the shorter Witcher smirked. “I’ve heard so much about you, Master Jaskier.”

“That I’m a royal pain in the ass?”

“Quite the opposite, really. In fact, when the two of you arrived, Geralt was nearly-”

Lambert’s statement was interrupted by a small wooden bowl to the side of the head, chucked across the room by a grim-faced Geralt.

“Nevermind. Anyway, glad to see you’re awake. I’ll let the others know that he's no longer going hand-to-hand with Death.”

“Others?” Jaskier glanced between Geralt and Lambert with wide, confused eyes. “Am I… Am I in Kaer Morhen!?”

“Aye,” Lambert winked. “And you slept through the first two days of snowfall, so I’m afraid to inform you that you’re stuck at Kaer Morhen for the rest of this season. I’ll let you and Geralt hash the rest of the details out in private. Tootles, Buttercup.”

And just as suddenly as Lambert had appeared, he was gone.

The bard turned to make eye contact with the White Wolf and blinked owlishly. “Wh-What did he mean about being here all winter?”

“I’m afraid he wasn’t lying,” Geralt returned to the stool beside Jaskier’s bed and sat down slowly, as if waiting for Jaskier to order him out of the room entirely. “Your injury was heavily infected and you were close to death when I found you in that cave at the base of the mountains. I ran the Killer in two days instead of one and brought you to Eskel and Vesemir for healing; they were the closest people I could think of who knew what to do to save you. I’m so sorry for trapping you here for the season when you should be teaching and composing in Oxenfurt. If you’d like, I can try to contact Yen or Triss and have them portal you back to the University before Yule.”

“Nobody would want to inconvenience a sorceress on their behalf,” Jaskier answered. "Myself included."

“So you don’t mind staying?”

Jaskier glanced up through his lashes, more self-conscious than Geralt had ever seen him before. “Were you really worried about me dying? Did you really carry me up the path all by yourself? In two days?”

“...Yes.”

“Why?”

Geralt felt his heart shatter to pieces in his chest. All these years spent thinking that if he was too obvious about his feelings he’d hurt Jaskier... and Jaskier had simply been waiting for any confirmation of his affections, friendly or otherwise.

"Because I..." the Witcher stood again and started to pace. "Because, Julek, I love you. I can't bear the thought of being parted from you. It's even worse because I know, I know that you're human and that I'm going to lose you too soon no matter what happens. Illness, age, injury... No matter how many years we have together they will never be enough."

Jaskier sniffled and Geralt turned on his heel to face the bard, hands already outstretched to offer comfort. "You enormous fucking idiot."

"Huh?"

"I have loved you since the moment I saw you sitting in the corner, brooding away," Jaskier grinned. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks and dripped onto the blanket. "Why didn't you tell me? You couldn't even look me in the eyes and call me your friend..."

"Witchers aren't very good at romance, if you haven't noticed," Geralt laughed humorlessly. "I knew I was going to hurt you eventually. It was only a matter of time."

"Well now we have all winter to figure things out," Jaskier offered, sliding his hand across the mattress to twine his fingers with Geralt's. The Witcher's skin was cool against his own and it felt glorious.

"Hmm."

"No! No going silent on me now, you fucker!"

"Get some rest," Geralt smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to Jaskier's sweaty fringe. "I will be here when you wake."

"And tomorrow, too?"

Geralt smiled oh-so-softly and kissed him again, on the lips.

"And tomorrow, too."

#geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fic #geraskier fluff #hurt/comfort geraskier #fluff geraskier #hurt/comfort #injury #blood tw #injury tw #jaskier whump #we're whumping the bard tonight #confessions #first kiss #geraskier getting together #bouncey's endless getting together fics #canon typical violence #canon universe #winter at kaer morhen #eskel and lambert #geralt is an idiot #whump and fluff

[metellastella]

In Honor of Deltarune Chapter 2, Lemme tell you about exactly HOW world-breaking Chara really was, and IS.

Here's the thing about Chara. It is implied that they are THE PLAYER's insatiable thirst for new video game worlds (or, they have latched onto it). As in, they accompany the player to the next world they go to.

Direct quote:

"HP. ATK. DEF. GOLD. EXP. LV. Every time a number increases, that feeling . . . That's me. Chara. Now, we have reached the absolute. There is nothing left for us here. Let us erase this pointless world, and move on to the next." i.e.: Let US move on to the next.

Every time THE PLAYER conquers and sets aside a new game . . . they have effectively DESTROYED it. Because they do not "exist" unless they are played and interacted with. Also, they only exist up until the end of the game anyway (most of the time)

And- I say usually- no matter how many times THE PLAYER plays a game- they will eventually tire of it. Also, if they play 500 games in their lifetime . . . it is unlikely they will re-play that many consistently. Plus, add on random internet "mini" games.

Now, that's only considering ONE player.

But since Chara is a multi-dimensional being, because they are aware of other worlds . . . it's not much of a stretch to say that the millions of people who are carrying around Chara "with" them count . . . as Chara.

Bill Cipher, from Gravity Falls, to my knowledge, despite his reality-warping godly demon powers, makes no such 4th wall shattering and domineering claim.

Let's assume for sanity's sake, that this current dimension you're sitting in and reading this screen on is the primary reality. There ARE no dimensions higher than this. All others are contained within human imagination. Bill Cipher was Created by a Creator.

All the 'lower' dimensions we can muck around in as basically gods. (gods or demigods either incarnate as weaklings, or come about some other way, in many mythologies, but then grow steadily stronger to realize their godhood. Ya know, Hercules. Krishna. In Hinduism. That sort of thing.) We can travel between dimensions on a whim by flipping a switch. With enough Determination, we can ALWAYS reach the end. Now, sometimes collaboration does expand these universes a little bit- through comics and fanfiction. But even these created 'higher spheres' nearer to this primary dimension, author 'omniscience' is taken as a given. Actually there is some debate about that, given the real-world phenomenon of novel writers in some cases having no clue where characters are taking them . . . they just sit down to write with a kernel of an idea. That's how I operate, for instance. In that case, they somehow have had their 'future sight' that should be default as a god, blocked. People who outline plots and know where they're going with a story beforehand, and then create characters to fill in the gaps, they're the type of 'gods' that could tell their characters future events, if they wanted to. Anyway. Back to video games specifically, and their fandoms. There is only so much CONTENT and it can always be recorded and shared. So there is still a limting factor.  Here's the weird thing about Undertale. You are there as a 'god.' Just as usual. That's nothing special. You're just there to muck around. But. The whole toe-curling horror aspect UT was demonstrating, for specific characters NPCs who realize this sobering fact . . . such as Asgore and Sans, they are driven to despair, mental instability, and in two cases, suicide, by the fact.

If Homestuck is considered a "game" that is destroyed once you reach the end? It is rolled into all of this as well.  Homestuck is a game. What evidence to I have of this, since it's a 'written story'? It has many playable elements and 90% of its lore and plot is based on deconstructing game conventions and sticking them back together in weird angled positions with crazy glue.  Therefore. If the player reads Homestuck after playing Undertale, (i.e., someone who is newer to internet culture, and entered it after Undertale came out, which was far after Homestuck) Chara has CANONICALLY destroyed the Homestuck Universe.  (or, if you re-read Homestuck after playing Undertale)

YOU. The PLAYER make or break all fictional characters. They live and die by your interest in them, or, for games, your direction, and no other character has explicitly taken YOUR control over the game, as Chara has. In Homestuck, it never gives you something to "do" and then takes the decision away from you, as Undertale does.

Chara, except for someone who has 100% control of that little dopamine rush that comes with leveling up (read: no one), is out there, gleefully wringing out, growing bored of, and then destroying hundreds of thousands of worlds. Chara is the first of zeir kind.  And possibly the last.  Or at least, anything that comes afterwards will be but a pale imitation.  Toby Fox is truly LEGENDARY, in this way.  I'm not sure even he fully understand what he's done here.  Let me try to explain this.  Our education system is currenlty ripping itself to pieces over back-breaking student loans and the realization that we don't actually need all these professors because of the easy availability of information on the internet (Demonstrated, in a roundabout way, in one or two deft lines of dialog in the movie A Beauriful Mind). Now, let's say colleges and universities do survive this shift in society, going foward. It's probable that at the very least technical colleges and vocational schools will. Any others, including high schools, will be replaced by students shrugging and just taking a G.E.D. certification, because why should they spend time at a high school if they hate it, or if they want to learn at their own individualized pace? No reason to do that at all. If the stuffy old guard of the outdated higher education system ever starts treating stories told by video games as literature, as they ABSOLUTELY SHOULD, because they're merely a different medium, not some weird separate thing . . . Toby Fox, having overturned the "trope" of the RPG "genre", wrecking and dismantling it so thouroughly that it has unsettled millions of people who ever again play an RPG where they slaughter any monsters for 'points.'  He should be immortalized. Just like any other author in history who has churned out a landmark piece of literature.  It's merely his fair due.  Perfectly logical, right?  He is the Ubermench game-changer. Literally.  I hope Sans appreciates the pun. Chara is the vehicle through which this overturning of the trope happens. Chara stares directly at the player, deconstructs a longstanding staple in the 'literary genre,' and gives a body and voice to the psychologically addictive quality of video games.

One estimate says there are more than 60,000 video games in existence. And millions of copies of each one.

Chara, as we've established canonically, has access to ALL that are played after a runthrough of Undertale. (or at the very least, genocide Undertale) In Hinduism, it is Shiva that is the god of destruction.  To quote Oppenheimer,  Chara has become Death, Destroyer of Worlds.  Checkmate.

Q. E. D.

Endgame.

#undertale #undertale anniversary #chara undertale #toby fox #indie games #steam games #gamer #video games #RPG #literature #genre #it really is that deep fam #Metella's Metas #writer #writer problems #novel #suicide mention #homestuck #gender neutral pronoun #gender neutral character #gender neutral chara #education system #deltarune #deltarune chapter 2

[tiens-letters]

upon autumns day, where you and I met. upon autumns day where I remember all of what we were before youve passed. and upon autumns day would I have ever so slowly let go of that pain of the past

zhongli (angst)

@albeidoof its somewhere here hehehe

Time was a luxury. A treasure each and everything holds.

Yet time is a curse as well. It covets, devours and leaves. which humanity neglects to cherish until the heart ceases its steady rythmn, only then do they regret of the wasted minutes, hours and seconds.

Beneath the flow of the rushing waves of things that have come and gone. Only on this particular day would he sit beneath a certain tree. The rough bark brushing up against his back as leaves fell effortlessly to the ground, as if it were ready to let go of from the branches that gave birth to it, only to return once again to the waiting soil.

It was a sunny afternoon, clear of any clouds and only clear unblemished blue, a good time to enjoy a warm cup of tea yet there was no energy in his bones to even move from where he was.

He felt exhausted. Desultory even.

Gone were the halcyon days of the past, and now the present time of the vivid reality he had to face.

Morax, rex lapis, the geo archon. Names that weighted more than one could carry, memories that shackled his soul that lived for a thousand years on end, all but a stain that could never be washed away.

The breeze slowly danced in, playing with his hair softly, kissing his skin and welcoming him. It carried a hint of aromatic essence only he would know belongs to.

You.

He tried to desperately recount the days after youve left the face of the earth and yet he could not remember or did his mind not allow him to as if he did, it would bring him terrible and heavy consequences for an answer, one sane mind would never want to know.

Sighing, he sat back and recalled back the memories of you instead. When you were alive, warm and breathing in his arms. He remembers the way your eyes would shine brightly whenever he would be around, or the small sound of delight you would make when you have finished another one of the many interesting blends of tea youve done over the course of a week of mixing different flowers and tea leaves. Youve made up quite the fortune with this as your little hobby bloomed into a fully run business known across teyvat.

"Zhongli." he froze, youve never called him by his name ever since youve started getting close, it made him feal uneasy as he turned to look at you who stood by the doorway, a neutral look on your face.

"y-yes?" nervousness clawed at him as he racked his brain to what he couldve done for you to call his name like that, he couldnt think of any.

"I came back from the market and I heard youve made quite the generous payment. Why is that, I wonder?" he's done it again, that spending habit of his

"The price was reasonable for such a fine ceramic tea set, I dont seem to find why it shouldnt reflect its quality?" you sighed as you pointed towards the glass cupboard behind him

"You bought the same exact set a week ago, Zhongli. Thats why." having to realize his mistake after looking over the two identical set that on the shelf, he turned to apologize but only to see you missing from the doorway. Footsteps can be heard from the floorboards above him. You were upset.

After minutes of pacing in the living room, he finally mustered the courage to climb the stairs and enter your shared bedroom. A figure already under the sheets as the warm glow of the lamp illuminated your delicate features. The mattress sunk as he sat beside you, fingers brushing away the stray hair that fell on your face.

"Im still mad at you Zhongli." his hand flinched slightly at the way you called him

"I apologize. I seem to not have learned my lesson again. I would gladly return the set tomorrow."

"Its no use, they dont accept refunds." you replied without sparing a glance at him

"What can I do for you to forgive me then?"

"Just go to sleep, Zhongli." groaning you reached for the switch to shut the lamp off but a gentle grip stopped you, forcing you to look at his gloomy expression. Perhaps you went too far this time.

"Please stop calling me in that way. I dont like it." he whispers, drawing your palm to his lips, leaving small kisses upon it. He sure does know his way around your heart, no wonder why you could not stay mad at him.

"Just be mindful next time." you cursed yourself for being weak to his charms.

"I will." yet something was missing "Then can you call me as you did before?"

"Zhongli?" you could see the slight grimace in his face as you teased him

"Stop it." he kissed you without warning "Call me as you did before."

However, his lips didnt stop as they began to travel. From your cheeks to you forehead and then to your neck. Oh dear, he wasnt having any of your teasing.

"A-li." you giggled beneath him as he finally stopped and met your gaze

"Thats better."

He still remembers the faint smile that graced your lips whenever he would wake up next to you tangled in the same sheets. The softness of your skin on his calloused touch. Your lips melting his and your voice lulling his raging mind to peace.

Then everything changed when you drew blood that spilled from those lips he's kissed for a thousand times, painting a morbid image on the sheets. Anger and despair boiled inside of him once he learned of the secret youve kept. Zhongli was a calm and collected man all of the time except when he was with you.

Having to witness him at such a point felt as if his own spear was being driven right through his very chest. He held you in an arms width away, the panic and pain in his eyes increasing over the minute as he begged for you to explain why youve decided to lie about the flowers that bloomed in your lungs, the sickness youve inherited from your deceased mother, whose fate you soon would follow. You didnt want him to find out, not in this way.

He couldve done anything if he knew from the start but alas, you wanted to be cruel, thinking it was for the best. Until your symptoms persisted, a heavy reminder of the remaining distance of the string you have to walk on to reach the end. The heavy feeling in your chest started to worsen as cherry sweet liquid poured from your mouth.

Soon the once pristine sheets were stained in haunting crimson shades as you heaved and he watched in agony. If only he had the ability of what he once had back then, if only he could plant the seeds of the flowers from yours to his then he would, if only he hadnt met you one autumn evening

" please dont look at me like that. " you told him, cold hands caressing his cheeks, catching the streams of salty warm beads that fell freely from your darling's amber eyes.

"Im sorry. Im so sorry..." the last thing you wanted to see was this man to cry. The last thing you wanted to see was to see him relive the past tragic memories you promised to bring him out of

" my disease has nothing to do with you. In the end it was mine alone to handle. oh, you are far from that so please dont you ever blame yourself."

"How can I not? If I havent fallen so deep then you would experienced so much more in life, you couldve been happier if you met someone else. Yet you chose me and I couldnt give you anything, I--. " the words knotted up as he began to shake, hands holding yours as knuckles turned to white

You slapped him.

With all the strength youve gathered in that fading body of yours. The sound cutting the grieving sounds that spilled from him, soul and flesh alike.

"A-li, look at me. Do I look like someone whose unsatisfied with what youve given me? Did my smile ever fade when Im with you? Did your affections ever lack? Answer me." his watery gaze met yours, a torrent of emotions swimming in them

"No. Never." a soft smile was carved unto your lips

"My dear, youve given me all Ive ever wanted in this life and I regret nothing of it."

To him, you were the flower that bloomed at the highest peak of the mountain he's never reached and yet its petals voluntarily detached and fell down, making him the happiest as one thing he's admired was untouchable and now, lay softly in the palm of his hands. To cherish and to protect.

But of course, all things are evanescent.

The familiar feeling of soreness that wasnt supposed to be there rose, ebbed and flowed through his throat. He knew it all too well, it was after he woke from his week long slumber did he feel it along with what his ancient beating heart felt.

"You collapsed." the worried words of the qixing echoed in his head. He frantically got up but as soon as his feet touched the floor did his legs give out underneath him, what use was he in this sorry state. He was helped up and sat back on the edge of the bed.

He wanted to ask many things yet was unable to.

Ningguang spoke as if you were still breathing and was visiting her minutes ago with another one of your tea blends. "Dont worry and rest first, go to jueyun karst after. They will be waiting."

To where the adepti resides, who as well, favored you, that one soul among thousands of others. One to which they shared a few good memories with was allowed to slumber there in peace.

Zhongli found himself waking up to the sun setting in the horizon. Just like how youve gone and resurfaced back into his memories. It was time.

He stood up from where he sat, gloved hands brushing any dirt that clung to him as he made his way to where you slept.

The red bean that was planted by himself still remained, a token of his love for you. Picking one bead and placing it inside the hollow dice he brought along, completing another one of the similar handicraft he's made every visit.

The sun finally died and the moon began its reign. The small wisps of light gathered around before him, forming a blurry image.

It was then he felt at ease, he saw you smiling at him with all there is in the world. Your light seemed to dim a little, hinting the blessing the adepti gave was slowly diminishing. Soon your visits would cease and you were sure that by the end of the power spent, he wouldve let go of the torment that plagued him.

"A-li. Have you been well?" he knew what you meant

"Im letting go slowly my dear. Perhaps in time, I would learn breathe easily once again."

Longest yet lol. Hope yall liked it ehehe

#genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhonglixreader #genshin impact drabbles #zhongli angst #morax

[javistg]

A Second Chance CH 4.

Chapter 4 is ready!

I want to thank you all for your messages and support. I can't believe you've stuck with me and my story for this long and I'm incredibly grateful.

Also, I have added one more chapter to the story.

The next chapter is almost ready, but it won't be very long. It's just a short epilogue. Still, I hope it will be enough to answer all those questions I haven't answered so far.

In the meantime, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy. ❤️

Based on prompt 110: A time travel AU: Katniss from Mockingjay, (any part of the book, it's up to you), winds up back the day before her sister's first reaping. What does she do now that she knows what's coming? Now that she knows how Peeta feels about her, and she knows how desperately she needs him, and what they could share? What on earth could she, or should she, even do/change? And what is she should lose it all again? [submitted by @wingletblackbird For EFE 2019]

Want to read from the start? Go to AO3 or FF.net

CHAPTTER 4. 

Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms all around the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!”




As soon as the clock runs out, Katniss jumps from her platform and makes a beeline for the nearest backpack.




She’s almost at the tree line when she feels the impact of Clove’s knife sticking into her bag.

Right on cue, Katniss thinks as she slips into the woods.




Relying on her memory, she runs through the narrow paths and slopes until she reaches the lake. Getting on her knees, she shrugs the backpack off her shoulders and makes a quick inventory of its contents.




One thin black sleeping bag that reflects body heat. A pack of crackers. A pack of dried beef strips. A bottle of iodine. A box of wooden matches. A small coil of wire. A pair of night-vision glasses. And a half-gallon plastic bottle with a cap.




After filling her water bottle to the brim, Katniss starts walking again. She doesn’t want to go too far from the water —she refuses to deal with dehydration once more. Still, she tries to keep to the route she followed the first time she was there.




As she retraces her steps, she eventually comes across a familiar tree. A willow that’s not terribly tall but set in a clump of other willows, offering concealment in its long, flowing tresses.




She climbs up, sets her sleeping bag, straps herself to the branch, and waits.




The sky has already gone dark when she sees a small fire begin to bloom.




Katniss curses under her breath. Even now, she can’t bring herself to feel any sympathy for the tribute who’s decided to advertise their location in a place full of predators.




A few hours later, the Careers come traipsing through the forest. They’re about ten yards from her tree when an argument breaks.




Katniss grabs onto her branch and holds her breath in expectation.




Peeta’s words cut the bickering. “We’re wasting time! I’ll go finish her and let’s move on!”




Up on her tree, Katniss presses her lips together to contain her smile. The cameras are on her, watching her every move, and she stubbornly refuses to let the Capitol see her relief.




As Peeta walks away, she tries to conjure up all the anger and hurt she felt during her first Games so she can glare at him as he disappears from view.




XXXXX




Katniss runs through the woods, crushing branches and trampling down leaves and flowers in her rush to escape her nightmares, but it’s no use.




As the tracker-jacker poison courses through her veins —turning the world into a big shimmering bubble— Katniss berates herself for her carelessness.




She can’t believe her bow and arrows ended up stuck in Glimmer’s hands again; or that she needed Peeta’s warning to start moving.




Now, as she rushes through the forest trying to fight the ever-growing hallucinations, she knows that, once more, her clumsiness has placed Peeta’s fate in Cato’s hands.




Katniss turns a bend on the road. The earth shakes beneath her feet with the force of an explosion. She knows it’s not real, but she can’t fight it anymore. She sinks to her knees, exhausted, doomed.




Her nightmares have found her, and all she can do is give in.




XXXXX




Katniss wakes up a few days later to find her bow and arrows placed neatly by her side and Rue hiding behind a tree.  




Together, the girls hunt and forage and --just like the first time-- their fast, easy friendship blossoms.




When the time comes for Katniss to leave to blow the Careers’ supplies up, she hesitates. Maybe I should take Rue down to the river, she thinks. We could dig Peeta from the mud and start treating him. The three of us could hide in the cave and…




With a shake of her head and a heavy heart, Katniss gives up. Thanks to Peeta’s intensive training for the Quarter Quell, she knows how that story ends. Alliances in the arena never last.




She would only be postponing Rue’s death. And for what? So that she can end up holding her mutilated body after a strange mutt kills her? The thought makes her shudder.




I need to weaken the Careers, she reminds herself as she walks towards the Cornucopia. Otherwise, Peeta and I won’t stand a chance.




XXXXX




Katniss is perched up on a tree, waiting.




A part of her mind is still consumed with Rue. Images of her, bloody and speared, play on a loop behind her eyes. She tries to block them out, to distract herself with something else, but she doesn’t have the strength; she’s too disgusted with herself.




Overcome by despair, Katniss hates the choices she’s made.




She hates that, despite having a second chance, she’s still helpless to do better, that she still thinks she has to put her life first.




As the sun sinks behind the trees, her mind flies back to Peeta. He’s somewhere out there, hurt, slowly bleeding to death by the stream.




She wants to drop this stupid pretense and rush to him, but she can’t.




There is one way out of this arena, and she needs to stick to her past actions to find it. So, Katniss wraps her arms around herself and waits.




She’s almost reached the end of her rope when the sky finally lights up. No deaths.




Her heart nearly jumps out of her chest when she hears the trumpets. Eager, she perks up in anticipation.




Claudius Templesmith’s voice blares down from overhead, congratulating the six tributes who remain. “There’s been a rule change in the Games. Under the new rule, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive.”




Claudius pauses, giving his audience time to digest the news. He repeats the change again, “Two tributes can win this year. If they’re from the same district.”




He’s barely finished speaking when Katniss reaches for her belt and begins unbuckling herself. The last time she was there, she waited for day to break, but she can’t do that this time. Not when she knows Peeta needs her.




With quick fingers, Katniss packs everything in her bag and slips the night-vision glasses on.




“Hold on, Peeta,” she says as she shimmies down the tree. “I’m on my way.”

XXXXX




As soon as she reaches the edge of the water, she realizes her mistake.




It’s a cold night. A bright round moon bathes the arena in pale light but, even with her glasses, that's not enough to make her way through the slippery mud.




Muttering obscenities under her breath, she backtracks until she finds a tree to spend the rest of the night.




With the first light of day, Katniss heads downstream.




After a while, the stream begins to curve to the left into a part of the woods where the muddy banks, covered in tangled water plants, lead to large rocks that increase in size.




Keeping her eyes to the ground, she spots a bloody streak going down the curve of a boulder.




Her heart picks up speed. Hugging the rocks, she moves, as quickly as she can, in the direction of the blood.




The blood trail stops. There’s no sign of Peeta.




She knows he’s close, though.




Crouching down, she whispers, “Peeta?”




The voice that answers back is hoarse and weak, but she would recognize it anywhere. “You here to finish me off, sweetheart?”




Katniss whips around.




“Peeta?” she whispers, biting back a smile. “Where are you?”




There’s no answer. So, Katniss creeps along the bank. “Peeta?”




“Well, don’t step on me.”




Katniss jumps back.




His voice is right under her feet. Still, there’s nothing.




Then his eyes open, unmistakably blue in the brown mud and green leaves.




Katniss’s gasp is rewarded with a hint of white teeth as he laughs.




“Close your eyes again,” she orders.




He does, and his mouth too, and completely disappears.




Katniss kneels beside him. “I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off.”




Peeta smiles. “Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying.”




“You’re not going to die,” she tells him firmly.




“Says who?” His voice is so ragged it makes her chest hurt.




“Says me. We’re on the same team now, you know,” she tells him.




Peeta’s eyes open. “So I heard. Nice of you to find what’s left of me.”




Katniss pulls out her water bottle and gives him a drink. “Did Cato cut you?”




“Left leg. Up high.”




Her heart drops, she had hoped Peeta would fare better this time around, but it seems that they’re exactly in the same situation as before.




At least I didn’t leave him lingering here while I had breakfast, she thinks as she helps him take a few more sips. “Let’s wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you’ve got.”




“Lean down a minute first,” Peeta says. “Need to tell you something.”




She leans over and puts her good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. “Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”




Katniss bursts out laughing. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”




Remembering how hard it was to move him, she decides to skip that part and strip and clean him right where he is.




“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” she says as she begins digging into the mud and plants which seem to have imprisoned him.




To her surprise, Peeta shakily pushes his upper body away from the ground. A little push from her, and he’s sitting up.




His new position doesn’t last long, though. With a pained grunt, Peeta slumps against a nearby rock.




“How do you feel?” she asks, brushing the matted hair from his face.




“Woozy.”




Using her two water bottles and Rue’s water skin, she begins cleaning him up. It’s slow going. The water is cold, and he’s so caked with mud and matted leaves that she can’t even see his clothes.




When she’s done, she gently unzips his jacket, unbuttons his shirt, and eases them off him.




His undershirt comes next. It’s stained, but at least it’s not stuck to his skin.




“Can you lift your arms?” she asks.




Peeta complies, lifting one arm at a time and dropping them limply by his side as soon as he’s done.




With one last tug, Katniss pulls the undershirt over his head.




Tears well up in her eyes when she takes him in.  




He’s badly bruised. There’s a long burn across his chest and a superficial cut on his arm. There’s also a bit of good news, though.




Only one of his tracker jacker stings looks bad. The skin around it is swollen and angry. The other three have been treated, Peeta's covered them with wads of chewed-up leaves.




“Did I do OK?” Peeta asks.




“You did great,” she tells him as she gently peels the dried leaves from his skin. “You only missed one.”




Peeta closes his eyes. His head lols back. “Where is it?”




“Right under your ear.” Carefully, she pours some cold water on the spot to clean it. Just looking at it makes her chest hurt. “Hold still,” she says as she digs the stinger out of the lump.




Peeta winces, but the minute she applies a fresh batch of chewed-up leaves, he sighs in relief.




Cleaning his clothes seems pointless right now that the sun isn’t hot enough to dry them. So, she uses the cleaner side of his undershirt to pat him dry and applies some burn cream to his chest.




His skin is warm but not excessively hot. This feels like good news but, Katniss isn’t sure. They’re out by the stream, and the nighttime chill hasn’t dissipated yet. The cold weather could be masking Peeta’s fever.




Since they can’t afford to waste any time, Katniss keeps going. Standing up, she shrugs off her jacket and gently drapes it over Peeta’s shoulders to protect him from the cold. Then, she digs through the first-aid kit she got from Marvel until she finds the pills that reduce temperature.




“Swallow these,” she tells him. Peeta obediently takes the medicine. “You must be hungry.”




“Not really,” says Peeta.




“We need to get some food in you,” she insists. Remembering what happened last time, she forgoes the groosling and gives him the dried apple instead.




“Can I sleep now, Katniss?” he asks after he’s had a few bits.




“I need to look at your leg first.”




Gently, she removes his boots and socks and then very slowly inches his pants off of him.




Her heart plummets when she sees the tear Cato’s sword made in the fabric over his thigh. Gritting her teeth, she keeps going.




As Peeta’s leg comes into view, Katniss gasps.




The wound isn’t exposed. Just like the tracker jacker stings, it’s been covered with leaves.  




With trembling fingers, she carefully removes the green plaster.




The wound is terrible, a deep inflamed gash, but Peeta’s done a better job of taking care of it. It’s not oozing as much blood or pus as it did the last time.




“Pretty awful, huh?” says Peeta. He’s watching her closely.




Katniss shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” she tells him honestly. “I just need to clean it well.”




Scooting her square of plastic under him, Katniss begins washing down his lower half.




Except for Cato’s cut, Peeta’s legs have fared pretty well. There’s one more tracker jacker sting, which he’s also cured, and a few minor burns that she treats quickly.




After pouring a few water bottles over it, the wound doesn’t look any better but, at least, it doesn’t look any worse.  




Katniss applies a handful of chewed-up tracker jacker leaves to the wound. Within minutes, pus begins running down the side of Peeta’s leg. She repeats the process. This time, very little pus comes out.




“What next, Dr. Everdeen?” Peeta asks.




“I have a bandage I can use, but there’s something I need to do first.” Reaching behind her, Katniss pulls out Rue’s backpack. “Here, cover yourself with this, and I’ll wash your shorts.”




“Oh, I don’t care if you see me,” says Peeta.




Katniss sets her jaw. Anger and humiliation rush through her veins as an image of Johanna --stripping in front of Peeta-- comes to her mind.




Fixing him with a blistering glare, she growls, “I care, all right?”




With an aggravated huff, Katniss stands up and turns to look at the stream.




As she waits for Peeta to shimmy out of his undershorts, his words come back to her. “For the Capitol, you’re pure,” he had said, clearly trying to mollify her. “For me, you’re perfect.”




Placated by the memory, Katniss sighs.




As soon as Peeta’s undershorts splash into the current, she turns to look at him.




There he is, her boy with the bread, so strong and fierce and brave. He looks small right now, pale and weak and vulnerable, but she’s not worried. Peeta's done better this time, and he’s going to push through. Just as he always does.




Katniss walks over to him and puts a few dried pear halves in his hand. “I'm going to wash your clothes. In the meantime, you eat these,” she says before heading down to the stream.




XXXXX




Katniss holds the small vial of sleep syrup in the palm of her hand. She doesn’t like what she’s about to do, but she knows she has no choice.




Peeta’s condition is not as critical as the last time. She’s managed to keep his fever from spiking, but the wound on his leg isn’t getting any better.




Besides, if she doesn’t go to the feast, Thresh won’t kill Clove.

With grim resolve, she gets to work. She mashes up a handful of berries and adds some mint leaves for good measure. Then she heads back up to the cave.




“I’ve brought you a treat,” she tells Peeta, “I found a new patch of berries a little farther downstream.”




XXXXX




“You better run now, Fire Girl,” Thresh tells her.




Katniss doesn’t need to be told twice. She flips over, digging her feet into the hard-packed earth, and runs away from Thresh and Clove and the sound of Cato’s voice.




She reaches the woods and keeps going. Blood pours into her eye, but she just swipes it away.




After a few minutes, she hears the cannon. Clove has died.




When she finally reaches the water, she slows down. She’s fairly certain Cato headed out after Thresh. Still, she doesn’t want to waste any time.




Katniss pulls off Rue’s socks, which she’d been using for gloves. Setting them aside, she splashes water over her forehead to clean the cut.




Moving quickly, she presses the socks to her forehead to staunch the flow of blood.




She knows the socks will be soaked in minutes. So, she reaches for the bandage in her small backpack and wraps it, as tightly as she can, around her forehead.




That should do the trick, she thinks, standing up to continue her trek downstream.




She makes it back to the cave in record time.




After squeezing through the rocks, she pulls the little orange backpack from her arm, cuts open the clasp, and dumps the contents on the ground—one slim box containing one hypodermic needle.




Without hesitating, she jams the needle into Peeta’s arm and slowly presses down on the plunger.




Exhausted, Katniss sighs. Her head is throbbing.




Her hands go to her forehead. When they drop back on her lap, she sees they’re clean.




After taking one of the fever pills, Katniss snuggles next to Peeta and drifts off.




XXXXX




Cato rushes through the woods, making a beeline for the Cornucopia.




Without question, Katniss follows him.




Her hands have just landed on the metal at the pointed tail of the Cornucopia when she turns back to look at Peeta. He’s not that far behind, but the mutts are closing in on him fast.




She sends an arrow into the pack, and one goes down, but there are plenty to take its place.




Peeta waves her up the horn, “Go, Katniss! Go!”




Katniss starts climbing, scaling the Cornucopia on her hands and feet. The pure gold surface has been designed to resemble a woven horn, so there are little ridges and seams to get a decent hold on. But after a day in the arena sun, the metal feels hot enough to blister her hands.




Cato lies on his side at the very top of the horn, twenty feet above the ground, gasping to catch his breath as he gags over the edge.




Katniss stops midway up the horn, loads another arrow, and points it at him, but just as she’s about to let it fly, she hears Peeta cry out. She twists around.




Peeta’s just reached the tail, and the mutts are right on his heels.




“Climb!” she yells.




Peeta starts up while Katniss keeps her eyes on the mutts. When one of them places its paws on the metal, she shoots her arrow down its throat.




Peeta reaches her feet. She grabs his arm and pulls him along.




Remembering Cato is waiting at the top, she whips around. He’s still doubled over with cramps and apparently more preoccupied with the mutts than with his fellow tributes.




This is my chance, Katniss thinks. She’s replayed this moment hundreds of times in her mind. She’s ready.




At the bottom of the Cornucopia, the mutts are beginning to assemble. Katniss can hear their calls for blood. She knows they won’t stop until they get it.  




She tugs Peeta’s arm to get his attention. “Think you could push him over?”




Peeta glances at Cato. He still hasn’t regained his feet, but his breathing is slowing. Soon he’ll be recovered enough to come for them and hurl them over the side to their deaths.




“Shoot straight,” Peeta says before taking a step in Cato’s direction and crouching.




Katniss aims her arrow at Cato’s head.




In. Out. Katniss breathes as she tries to block out the sounds of the mutts sniffing and tasting the metal, scraping paws over the surface, and making high-pitched yipping noises to one another.




Smirking, Cato pushes himself up and ducks his head under his arm to deflect the attack.




Katniss’s arrow flies and reaches its mark, piercing right through Cato’s unprotected hand.




Cato cries out and doubles over in pain just as Peeta slams against him.




Knocked off balance, Cato plummets to the ground.




XXXXX




“Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed,” Claudius Templesmith says. “Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.”




Katniss looks at Peeta in dismay. She’s exhausted. She just wants the whole thing to be over.




“If you think about it, it’s not that surprising,” Peeta says softly as he pulls the knife from his belt and throws it into the lake.




Katniss doesn’t falter. She immediately drops her weapons.




“No,” Peeta says, reaching for her bow and pressing it back into her hand. “You need to use this now.”




“I can’t,” Katniss says, shaking her head. “I won’t.”




“Do it.” Peeta tightens his hold on her wrist in a silent plea. “Before they send those mutts back or something. I don’t want to die like Cato.”




“Then you shoot me,” she says furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. “You shoot me and go home and live with it!”




“You know I can’t,” Peeta says, discarding the weapons.




He turns to look at the lake. Frustration drips from his voice as he says, “This is why I didn’t want you to go to the feast, why I didn’t want you to risk your life for me. I knew it was pointless, that in the end, they were going to make us choose.”




Peeta drops on one knee and begins untying his shoelaces.




Katniss scowls; this is something new. “What are you doing?”




“I think I’m going to go out for a swim.”




Panic rises within her. The lake isn’t too deep, but Peeta doesn’t know how to swim. What if the Gamemakers decide to create waves or a strong current?




She needs to think. Fast.




Katniss kneels next to him. “Peeta, please don’t!”




“Katniss,” Peeta reaches for the end of her braid and gives it a little tug. “This is my choice. It’s what I want.”




“You’re not leaving me here alone,” she says, reaching out to grab a fistful of his jacket.




“Listen,” he says, pulling her to her feet. “We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me.”




Katniss swallows thickly. This is the opening she was waiting for.




Her fingers fumble with the pouch on her belt, freeing it.




Peeta’s eyes widen. His hand clamps on her wrist. “No, I won’t let you.”




“Trust me,” she whispers.




He holds her gaze for a long moment, then lets go.




Katniss loosens the top of the pouch and pours a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm.




She fills hers. Her heart races in fear and anticipation as she asks, “On the count of three?”




Peeta leans down and kisses her once, very gently. “The count of three,” he says.




They stand, their backs pressed together, their empty hands locked tight.




“Hold them out. I want everyone to see,” Peeta says.




Katniss spreads out her fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun.




She’s not afraid this time. If the Gamemakers call their bluff, she and Peeta will have a quick death. Protected by their anonymity, Prim, Gale, and the rest of District 12 will be safe.




Still, as she gives Peeta’s hand one last squeeze as a signal, she hopes it’s not a goodbye.




They begin counting.




“One.” Did she get it right?




“Two.” Maybe this do-over is not for her but for Snow, who’s wanted her dead from the start.




“Three!” She’s about to find out.




Katniss lifts her hand to her mouth.




The berries have just passed her lips when the trumpets begin to blare.




The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. “Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you — the tributes of District Twelve!”

XXXXX




The tribute train speeds back to District 12.




Alone in her compartment, Katniss washes the makeup from her face and puts her hair in its braid.




As she stares in the mirror, she tries to remember who she is and who she isn't.




My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me, but I came back. Peeta is safe. Our families and our district are waiting for us.




With a steady hand, she pins the mockingjay back on her shirt and adds, Snow’s days in power are numbered.




The train makes a brief stop for fuel, and they’re allowed to go outside for some fresh air.




There’s no longer any need to guard them, so Peeta and Katniss walk down along the track, hand in hand.  




As soon as they’re out of earshot, Katniss leans into Peeta’s side and asks, “Have you talked to Haymitch?”




Peeta shakes his head. “About what?”




Remembering how poorly this conversation went the last time, Katniss grabs his arm to keep him close. “He told me the Capitol didn’t like our stunt with the berries.”




Peeta’s body tenses under her touch. “What?”




“He says it seemed too rebellious.”




“Seemed?” Peeta deadpans.




Katniss’s jaw drops open. This is not the reaction she was expecting.




“Come on, Katniss, you can’t be that surprised. We basically forced their hand into doing what we wanted. It’s no wonder they’re upset.” Anger and suspicion quickly flash through his eyes. “Why didn’t he tell me anything?”




Afraid that he’s going to storm away, Katniss tightens her grip on his arm. “Because he didn’t want me to mess up in front of the cameras. He was afraid I’d be all prickly and aloof. So, he told me I needed to act like I was so madly in love that I wasn’t responsible for my actions.”




She knows she’s messed up the second Peeta takes a step away from her. “Act?”




“For the interview,” she quickly clarifies. “Only for the interview.”




The explanation seems to placate him, but he still asks, “So, what you did in the Games, was that—,”




“That was not an act,” she tells him. This time it’s the truth. Her only hidden motive was to bring him out with her.




Peeta nods but, before he can say anything, Haymitch appears by his side.




Even in the middle of nowhere, the old mentor keeps his voice down. “Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be OK.”




“Thanks for the update,” Peeta growls under his breath.




A deep frown settles on Haymitch’s face. “What’s up with you?”




“I just told him what you said about President Snow,” Katniss whispers.




“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” Peeta asks.




Haymitch lets out an exasperated sigh. “Since when do you need coaching on how to act in front of the cameras, kid? You’re smooth and personable, and you always know exactly what to say.” Hunching closer to the two victors, he adds, “Besides, the walls have ears, even here. I didn’t have that many openings, you know?”




Mollified, Peeta nods. Katniss knows it's just a reprieve, though. Peeta's never liked being kept in the dark, and he'll probably go after Haymitch once they're back home.




“Alright,” Haymitch says, “fun’s over. Time to hop back on board.”




The three victors head back.  




Katniss is already on board when she notices Peeta has fallen behind.




Alarmed, she whips around to look out of a window. Peeta’s just a few steps away. A smile splits her face when she notices the bunch of wildflowers in his hand.




As soon as he climbs up the stairs, he presents the pink-and-white flowers to her.  




Katniss bursts out laughing. Her eager hands reach for the offering. “You brought me lunch, how thoughtful!”




Peeta tilts his head in question. “Lunch?”




Katniss nods. With soft fingers, she traces the edge of a pink petal. “They’re wild onions. Gale and I gather them sometimes.”

Peeta’s face turns serious. “Katniss, I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to snap—,”




“No,” she cuts in, “I get it. We’re a team. We’re in this together.”




Peeta reaches for her hand, interlacing their fingers to bring their palms even closer. Hope lights up his face when he asks, “Together?”




Katniss nods. Standing on the tips of her toes, she presses a soft kiss to his lips and whispers, “Together.”




XXXXX




The Tribute train pulls into District 12.




Katniss and Peeta stand side by side, watching their grimy little station rise up around them.




Through the window, Katniss sees the platform’s thick with cameras. Everyone will be eagerly watching their homecoming.




Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Peeta extend his hand. His eyes are warm and soft, her safe place in the storm that’s about to be unleashed.




Smiling back at him, Katniss takes his hand and holds on tightly as she prepares for the cameras. Her heart feels full, grateful for the fact that she won’t ever have to let go.  

XXXXX

On the first Sunday after the Capitol cameras leave, Katniss sneaks out of Victors’ Village.

Partially hidden by the dim light of dusk, she quietly walks to the Seam.

A part of her wishes she could sneak under the fence and go to her and Gale’s meeting place like she did before. She mises the sounds and the smells of her woods and longs to hold her father’s bow, but she knows the rock ledge isn’t safe. Not today.

President Snow has eyes and ears everywhere, and she can’t afford to repeat her past mistakes. Not when what she has to say is this important.

Two blocks away from Gale’s house, she finds the perfect spot; a narrow corridor that stretches between two shacks. Despite being open on both ends, it’s dark and much too small for foot traffic or lampposts —which makes it a perfect hiding place— and it faces the street Gale uses to go to the woods.

She’s only been there for a few minutes when a silent silhouette walks past.

“Gale!” Katniss hisses as loud as se dares.

Gale stops on his tracks and turns towards the sound, leaning slightly into the small dark corridor.

Smiling fondly at her friend, Katniss lifts her hand and wiggles her fingers in greeting.

The glimmer in his eyes tells her he’s surprised to see her there, but he doesn’t hesitate. In two long strides, he’s by her side with open arms.

Just like she did the last time, Katniss jumps into his embrace.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembers crying —sobbing in Gale’s arms until she began to hiccup and tremble— but she doesn’t cry now. She doesn’t have time for that. Instead, she buries her face in his jacket and breathes him in, letting his fresh, clean scent comfort her and give her the strength she needs to carry on.

Pulling away from her friend, Katniss smiles. “Hi!”

“Hey!” Gale points his thumb back towards the woods. “I was on my way out to meet you.” Dropping his hand, he turns around and inspects their tight hiding place. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you’d pass by.” Her smile drops. “We need to talk.”

A dark cloud passes through Gale’s eyes. “What’s wrong, Catnip?”

Grabbing a fistful of his jacket to keep him from storming away, Katniss begins to talk. As quickly as she can, she tells him about President Snow’s anger.

“He’s mad at us for showing the Capitol up in the arena and turning it into the joke of Panem,” she says. “It’s something that wouldn’t have mattered much before, but Snow’s control over the country is slipping. His enemies are gaining strength, and he can’t afford to look weak in front of them.”

Anticipation lights Gale’s eyes. “His enemies?”

“Rebel forces are organizing all over the country,” Katniss says, “even the Capitol has a few dissenters, but Snow’s biggest problem is District 13.”

Gale takes a step back. “Thirteen? There’s no Thirteen. It got blown off the map.”

“No, it didn’t,” Amused with the look of shock on Gale's face, Katniss smiles. “District 13 is still there. That footage we’ve seen, with the rubble and the ruins, is always the same shot. The Capitol just uses it as a backdrop for its TV presenters.

“The people of Thirteen have spent the last 74 years living underground, and they're done waiting. They’re eager to get rid of Snow.”

Gale shakes his head, still too disconcerted to fully grasp what’s happening. “How do you know all this?”

“I heard about it while I was in the Capitol,” she lies, convinced that this is the only possible explanation she can give him that will make some kind of sense. “I overheard some conversations during my training, and then, while I was recovering, I was... approached.”

“Approached?”

Katniss nods, hoping Gale won’t press any further. She’s ready to tell him what she knows about Eight and a few other districts, but she doesn’t want to go into any specifics in case someone decides to check up on her info later on.

Luckily, Gale is a man of action, and his hatred for the Capitol runs deep. He has all the information he needs. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Well... All eyes are on me right now, so there’s not much I can do —not if I want to keep my family safe— but I was thinking...”

Katniss looks up, silver eyes bright with trust and hope. “Nobody knows who you are, Gale. No one is following you. You could go. You could just sneak under the fence and march down all the way to Thirteen and tell them everything I know."

"Wait a second," Gale says, raising his hands as if to shield himself from her plan. "If what you're saying is true, District 13 must have agents in every district. So, why would they need me to relay your information?"

Katniss shakes her head. "Thirteen is in contact with a few people, but they don't have access to every district. My information is not very detailed, but it comes from every corner of Panem. The leaders of Thirteen might be able to use it to band the rebels together before Snow sends his Peacekeepers to start cracking down on us."

Pulling his shoulders back, Gale backtracks until his arm touches the cold cement wall. Looking past Katniss, he stares at the empty street at the end of the corridor.

Enveloped by silence, she sees his mind working, turning, and churning ideas as he tries to come to terms with what he’s heard.

“What about my family?” he finally asks.

“I’ll take care of them,” Katniss promises, “just like you took care of mine.”

When Gale looks back at her —full of fire and determination— she knows, clear as day, that she’s made the right choice.

Gale Hawthorne wants the revolution more than he wants anything else.

“I’m going to need a few supplies,” he says, his mind already thinking ahead.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll help you get whatever you need.”

Crossing his arms, Gale tilts his head to study her closely. Uprisings and rebellions are far from his mind when he asks, “So…you and the baker’s son. How long has that been going on?”

Katniss shrugs. What should she say? A year and a half? A month? A week? She doesn’t really know when to start counting. So, she sticks with the vaguest thing she can think of. “A while.”

A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. “I can’t believe I never noticed.”

“Well," Katniss slips her hands into her pockets. Discussing Peeta with Gale --or Gale with Peeta-- has always made her uncomfortable. Luckily, her friend's tone is a lot more subdued than it used to be.  "We weren’t exactly shouting it over the rooftops, you know?”

Raising a questioning eyebrow, he locks his gray eyes with hers. “I thought you didn’t want to get married.”

“I changed my mind.”

As soon as the words pass her lips, she knows they’re true.

She still doesn’t want to have children. If her trips to the Games have taught her anything, it's that Panem is not a safe place to live. But she doesn’t want to be alone anymore, not when she can be with Peeta.

Hoping to put the conversation to rest, she lifts her chin and adds, “Peeta changed my mind.”

Gale nods, slowly taking her in as if he's seeing her for the very first time.  

In the small space, Gale offers his hand. "OK, Catnip, I'll do as you ask."

Smiling, Katniss reaches out to shake it and seal their deal.

Katniss heads back to Victors' Village feeling lighter than she has in weeks. Her plan is in motion. Gale is going to District 13.  

As she reaches the steps of her new home, a thrilling thought crosses her mind.

She's back on uncharted waters. The future is about to become uncertain once more.

#things I write #a second chance #time travel!everlark #Everlark Fic Exchange #camp nano april 2021

[phantom-curve]

Second birthday is such a cool thing to call that! 8 or 35 if you are feeling so inclined.

Thank you! When I was a kid my mom always tried to call it my rebirth-day and I was like no❤️ I went with some Willex whump (with a fluffy end) for this one! Set in the gimme a chance AU, featuring pro-skateboarder Willie and anxious Alex. This is also a bit of a companion piece to the #8 prompt I wrote earlier!

#35: kissing their bruises and scars (Trigger Warning: mentions of injury, mild description of panic attack, and mentions of a car accident. Rated T for language) 

Alex generally tried not to think about worst case scenarios when Willie was competing. If he let himself, it was way too easy to imagine all types of situations that ended with Willie broken and bleeding at the base of a halfpipe while Alex stood helplessly on the sidelines. It didn’t help anything for him to obsess over what could happen, especially because at this point, Alex knew skateboarding was as much a part of Willie as drumming was a part of him.

It was just that ever since Willie had gotten his first sponsorship and moved to the pro circuit six months ago, he had started taking bigger risks. More complex tricks and a lot less hesitation to go big when he was representing the brands that were paying his bills. And that meant longer hours practicing and a higher chance of injury on a daily basis. Alex wanted to be a supportive boyfriend, the kind that would show up at the skate park to cheer and not have a panic attack every time that Willie wiped out, but he wasn’t. He was just an anxious guy in love with a dude who seemed determined to break every single bone in his body.

Things only got worse when Willie started traveling for competitions. He was gone almost every weekend, and Luke had finally convinced the manager at the bar he worked at to let Sunset Curve preform regular Saturday shows, and so, more often than not, Willie would be somewhere else in California flinging his body down an insanely tall ramp with nothing but a helmet and some pads to protect him while Alex was trapped in LA losing himself in the familiar pattern of sticks against drums in an attempt to control his raging anxiety. It had about a 68% success rate. That success rate increased dramatically when Willie called Alex the second he knew his set was ending. It plummeted on the nights Alex didn’t hear from him until much later, or worse, heard from a different skater entirely.

Tonight was unfortunately one of those nights.

When their set ended, Reggie called out the same line he had coined after their first performance, a couple audience members chiming in with him because they actually had a bit of a fan following now, and Alex wasted no time in grabbing his phone from the fanny pack he kept behind his kit during shows. Instead of it lighting up with a picture of his boyfriend’s face, he was met with a series of missed calls and text messages from the guys Willie was rooming with for the weekend. He tried not to panic, tried to breathe in deeply to a count of five, holding it for just as long before exhaling again. It kept the anxiety at bay for as long as it took for him to unlock the phone and read the last missed message.

Don’t worry, bro. They’re gonna airlift him back to LA so you can just meet him at the hospital whenever.

Panic hit full force. What the actual fuck had happened to his boyfriend?! Alex’s fingers were shaking too much for him to open the other messages, his vision going blurry and a distant ringing sounding out in his ears. It took him longer than it should to realize Luke was crouched down in front of him, Reggie hovering just beyond the drum kit.

“You have to breathe, Lex. C’mon, follow me.”

Luke inhaled deeply before letting his breath out in a loud woosh. Alex tried to copy him, but his chest felt too tight, his throat closing in the more he tried to open it. Luke kept talking, his voice low and calm.

“Try again, we can do it together. We just have to breathe, nothing else.”

Alex inhaled with Luke that time, not quite as deeply and not quite as steady, but more air than he had managed to get before. It took several long moments before he was able to match Luke completely, the fog starting to clear from his brain, surroundings snapping back into focus.

“Great, good, just keep breathing, okay? I’m gonna go grab the office keys and we’ll take a minute in there to talk, okay?”

Alex nodded, not exactly wanting Luke to leave but knowing whatever his best friend was saying logically made sense. Reggie slipped into the space Luke had been occupying, breathing in the exact same pattern, and Alex refocused on him. When Reggie stood, Alex copied him, reaching out to grip the back of Reggie’s red flannel as he led them both off of the stage and down the hallway to the office in the back of the bar. Alex dropped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“Lex? Can you tell us what’s going on?”

Reggie’s voice was soft and quiet, like a gentle melody. Alex let it wash over him, knew his boys would be able to help if he could just figure out how to get his mouth to form the words it desperately didn’t want to say out loud. He fought to speak for a few moments before finally just thrusting his phone forward. A hush fell over the room as Luke and Reggie scrolled through the texts and Alex was suddenly grateful that he wouldn’t have to read through them himself. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, Luke cleared his throat and spoke.

“Okay, so good news or bad news first?”

“How can there possibly be good news?”

Alex’s throat felt raw and scratchy, the words coming out broken and strangled. Luke and Reggie exchanged a quick glance before Reggie sat next to Alex on the couch. Not touching, but close enough for Alex to feel comforted all the same.

“Willie isn’t dead or dying, so yes, there is good news. Which one do you want first?”

A significant amount of the panic left Alex’s system at the reassurance that his boyfriend was alive and going to stay that way for the time being. It hit him all at once, sending him into Reggie’s side as he let out a cry of relief. Reggie’s hand stroked up and down Alex’s arm, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat. Luke spoke again.

“Okay, so good news is that Willie is probably already back in LA, he’s at the best hospital he can be at, and he’s going to be fine.”

Alex clung to the words like a life raft. Willie was going to be fine. He turned it into a mantra, repeating it over and over again until he felt like he was back in control, no longer on the precipice of drowning. He disentangled himself from Reggie’s arms, took a deep breath, and met Luke’s gaze.

“I’m ready. Gimme the bad news.”

Luke let out a long breath before sitting down on Alex’s other side.

“The guys were in a car accident. They didn’t even make it to the competition. Willie was in the passenger seat and he took the worst hit in the collision. The other guys got taken to a local hospital, but they had to send Willie to Cedars-Sinai because of some special orthopedic department there. Max said they mentioned he would be admitted to the post-trauma floor.”

A car accident. He didn’t even make it to the competition. Alex had considered himself prepared for the worst when it came to Willie and his chosen profession. He had told himself that loving Willie meant accepting the risk that came with skateboarding, especially at the level that Willie did it. He had not once considered the fact that Willie could be hurt in some type of freak accident that had nothing to do with skating. The life raft slipped from his mental fingers, hurtling him back into the sea of despair once again.

“We got this, okay?” Luke was still speaking. “Reg is gonna call an Uber and take you to the hospital, and I’m gonna get Dante and Felix to help pack up stuff here and then come meet you. It’s gonna be okay.”

Luke’s words painted a path for Alex to follow, a way to move forward without having to fight so hard to do so. He nodded, allowed himself to be bundled out of the employee entrance and into the car Reggie had called. Clung to Reggie’s flannel again as they traversed the white hallways of the hospital, eventually making their way to a nurse’s station situated on the post-trauma surgical floor. Alex didn’t even let himself think about what that string of words implied. Not until Reggie nudged him forward to speak with the blonde-haired woman with kind brown eyes sitting behind the welcome desk. He forced himself to clear the lump in his throat and scrape some words together.

“Hi, I’m uh, my name is Alex. Alex Mercer? I’m looking for my boyfriend Willie? William, actually, his name is William Stewart. He was...he was in a car crash.”

The words came out in starts and stops, cracking at the edges as Alex forced them through numb lips. The nurse nodded, her fingers tapping across the keyboard in a sharp staccato.

“He’s out of surgery, but might still be a bit groggy. The limit is one visitor at a time, so your friend will have to wait out here.”

Alex turned to Reggie with a blank stare.

“You got this, Lex. Remember, he’s gonna be fine. I’ll be right here, and Luke is on his way too. Whatever you need, okay? We got you.”

Alex nodded even though the movement itself felt like a lie. The nurse smiled softly at him and for one split moment Alex wished he could call his mom, hear her comforting voice the way he used to when he was a scared little kid. But he had Luke and Reggie now. And Willie, who was alive somewhere in this hospital.

“He’s in room 604, just down the hall.”

Alex forced his feet to move. Forced himself to count the numbers on the wall until he found 604. Forced himself to open the door and enter the room.

Willie looked so small on the bed, his dark hair a mess across the stark white pillowcase, his leg encased in plaster and suspended from some contraption that hung down from the ceiling. He turned his head at the noise of the door opening, eyes half open and soft with sleep or maybe painkillers. The smile on his face was a mere shadow of its normal sunshine.

“Hey, Hotdog.”

Alex wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and curl into a ball and absolutely lose it. But instead, he walked to the side of Willie’s bed and sat down in the chair next to it that seemed to have been waiting just for him.

“Have you been crying? Please tell me you weren’t crying.”

Okay, Willie was definitely on drugs. Because of course, Alex had been crying.

“Yes, I’ve been crying! Are you kidding me?”

Willie winced slightly and Alex was instantly swamped with guilt.

“No, okay, let me try that again.”

He took a deep breath and reached up to brush a few stray hairs away from Willie’s face. There were a number of cuts and bruises marring his skin, a few of them hidden under bandages.

“Hey pretty boy, I’m so glad you’re not dead. I’ve never been more scared than when I saw that text from Max. I thought you cracked your head open on a halfpipe or something, what the hell happened?”

Willie tried to shrug and grimaced, like it hurt. Alex’s hands fluttered uselessly above his boyfriend’s body, unsure where would be safe to touch. He settled for grabbing the hand that Willie offered which was thankfully unmarked, nothing but some leftover scars from catching himself at the skatepark.

“I think our car flipped? There was a lot of crashing and my leg really fuckin hurt. It’s still hurts.”

Willie frowned, clearly addled from the leftover anesthesia and whatever they were giving him for the pain. Alex pulled his hand up to press a series of kisses across Willie’s knuckles, making sure to cover each scar at least once.

“You can’t die on me, Wills. I fucking love you, okay? I know you do insane stunts and regularly let yourself get beat to crap at the skate park, but you can’t fucking die on me in some stupid car accident. I’d lose my goddamn mind without you.”

“You love me?”

Willie’s voice was soft and awed and Alex suddenly realized he hadn’t ever actually said those words out loud before even though they’d been living in his brain for months now. When he looked into Willie’s eyes he saw a hint of wetness there, and his heart melted.

“Yes, I love you, you fucking dork. I’ve been in love with you for months.”

Willie grinned, dopey eyed and pink cheeked.

“Well, I’ve been in love with you for like, ever. So, I win. Gimme a kiss for my prize.”

Alex laughed and rolled his eyes, but obliged, nonetheless. Willie might not remember this interaction, but Alex would never forget it. A look of absolute peace settled onto his boyfriend’s face.

“I knew you’d come. I knew as soon as that car hit us that when I woke up, you’d be here. You’re the best boyfriend ever, that’s why I love you. And you’re so hot. Like, really hot.”

Alex’s cheeks burned, his heart kicking into overdrive.

“C’mere,” Willie nodded his head to the side and tried to shuffle over, like he was inviting Alex to climb in next to him. He made a disgruntled sound when the contraption his leg was in refused to budge, frowning up at the suspension system.

“That’s so lame, what the fuck? I wanna cuddle.”

And Alex, unable to resist even when he knew it would probably be better for Willie if he did, climbed up to wedge his body into the small space between Willie and the guardrails on his bed. He tucked one arm behind Willie’s head, pulling his face into the space between his neck and shoulder. Willie let out a contented sigh, his breath sending shivers down Alex’s spine.

“You smell like you,” Willie whispered, the sound happy and relaxed. “I love you, Lex.”

“I love you, too.” Alex sighed, kissing his way across every single cut and bruise he could reach without moving.

Willie settled into place, his body going lax and soft snores sounding out against Alex’s chest within moments. Alex let his own head fall to rest against the top of Willie’s, finally allowing himself to believe everything would be okay. When the same nurse came to tell him that his other friend had arrived and maybe it would be best to come back in the morning, he accepted it without complaint. She gave him a final moment to say goodnight, Alex taking the time to make sure Willie was tucked in tight before kissing his temple softly.

Willie was going to be okay, and Alex was going to spend the rest of his life making sure he was always the one there to kiss his scrapes and bruises.

Send me prompts for my second birthday!

#mads writes #send me prompts for my birthday! #willex #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp ficlet #willex ficlet #willex week

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 37

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost  

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 6833

Chapter Warnings: Chapter Warnings: Restraints, Control, Lashing out, Pain, Kidnapping, Mentions of selling a person, Treating a person like property, Forced incapacitation, Crying, Fear, Angst, Cages, Choking, Threats, More Crying, Death mention (Please let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

Author’s note: This one got a little heavier than intended, but I promise our boys are better for it in the end :)

---

    Logan stirred, trying to shake the hazy feeling from his head as it hung heavily between his shoulders. Gradually, he finally cracked his eyes open as he forced himself to scan his surroundings. His vision blurred as nausea twisted in his stomach. He paused letting his head slump back down as his stomach settled.

    He groaned, trying to sit up as his nausea started to abated. His breathing nearly stopped as he felt a thin rope cutting into his wrists between his legs. He jolted upright, anxiety burning his chest as he twisted his body, unable to make out his surroundings through his blurry vision. Logan felt his heart pounding in his throat as tree bark dug into his back and his legs moved in the dirt underneath him.

    “Relax.”

    A shiver ran up Logan’s neck and he stilled immediately at Dee's dreary voice sounded above him. His muscles tensed as he bit down into the gag in his mouth. He tried to blink away the wetness that was brought to his eyes but the sudden wave of fear threatened to overwhelm him.

    How could I be so stupid? Why would I walk straight into their trap?

    “Stay still.”

    Logan froze, clenching his eyes shut as he nodded stiffly.

    “Open your eyes.”

    Still rigid, Logan forced his eyes open, dipping his head to his ground submissively as his vision cleared. A small, shift in the dirt in front of him made him wince, biting into his gag as he attempted to remain motionless.

    Slow steps circled around his right side. He instinctively flinched as Dee knelt in his periphery, staring at him intently.

    “Look around, kid.” Dee's soft voice sounded next to him. “It's just the two of us.”

    Logan didn't move, feeling his breath catch in his throat as he sat paralyzed with distrust of Dee’s words. His skin crawled as Dee leaned closer, moving slowly as he reached around Logan’s head. The man’s movements were gentle as he pulled the gag from his mouth, but still, Logan’s gut wrenched at contact as the panic continued to rise in his chest.

    Dee seemed to notice his hesitancy, because he softened his already quiet tone. “Seriously, you're safe with me. I sent Remus away—”

    “Why—” Logan swallowed, his throat burning as bile rose in his throat. He kept his gaze trained on Dee in his periphery, wincing as the man rose to his feet. “W-why would you even bother?”

    “Simple necessity.” Dee returned in a bored tone. “I needed him to keep an eye on that prince of yours to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble.”

    Adrenaline shot a jolt through Logan’s body and his head shot up to meet Dee’s uncaring gaze. “I agreed to do whatever you asked, but if you hurt him, I won't—”

    “Don't be so dramatic.” Janus drawled as he stepped away, giving Logan a view of the forest around them for the first time. “As long as you cooperate, Remus is under strict orders to keep his distance from your precious lover.”

   Logan curled his knees to his chest and glared at Dee as he glanced around the quiet haze of the woods. The air was cold as he took in the trees through the glow of the early morning light. He grimaced, glancing bitterly at the bandages on Dee’s arms. “Remus hardly has a history of self-restraint.”

   “Rest assured. As long as I have access to my power, Remus will do as he's told." Dee seemed to notice Logan’s attention on his arms, pulling his sleeves down and covering his wounds. He sneered down at Logan reaching into the collar of his shirt to pull out an luminescent necklace out from his collar. The jagged piece of glowing amber stood out against the deep, blue light of the early morning. “Do you know what this is?”

   Skepticism filled Logan's gaze as he shook his head, curling into himself at the unfamiliar magic. “No, I don’t.”

  “This is a signal gem. They're created in pairs and this particular gem has a twin that glows at the same brilliant hue.” Dee eyed the gem with a glimmer in his eyes. “That amulet is in Remus’ hands.”

   Logan bit his lip, trying not to give away the chills that ran up his spine as Dee continued. “So?”

  “Amber is a particularly fragile gem. Simply dropping it could shatter the amulet, severing it's connection to it's twin.” Dee smirked, his sharp, white teeth growing in the dark. “No connection means the amulet Remus has stops glowing, and if that happens, Remus knows he can do whatever he likes to your dear prince. So—” Dee hissed threateningly. “—let's behave, shall we?”

   Logan growled, baring his teeth at Dee before dropping back against the tree behind him. “That's not necessary.”

   “What?” Dee hissed as Logan’s head dropped tiredly.

  “It's not necessary and nor is this—” Logan raised his bound wrists with a tired snarl. “—I agreed to play my part in whatever game you have planned for me." Logan dropped his wrists into his lap, chewing the inside of his cheek to quell the emotions raging in his chest. “There’s no need for you to torment my friends as well.”

   Dee seemed to eye him carefully for a long minute before letting out a sharp breath. “If you continue to cooperate, your friends will not be touched. You have my word.”

   Avoiding Dee’s withering stare, Logan felt a lump in throat as his gaze dropped to the ground. His shoulders went slack with acceptance and he nodded, unable to form any meaningful words.

   “Good.” Dee muttered, tossing a bag over his shoulder. “Then, get on your feet. We've got a lot of ground to cover before the sun sets.”

   A groan was pulled from Logan as Dee's fingers curled tightly around his shoulder, yanking him to his feet. The sudden movement was jarring, nearly sending him flying until Dee’s hand pressed him into tree behind him. Logan gasped, freezing as he caught a metallic glimmer in the tall fae's hand.

   “I'd best not see your commitment waver.” Dee's hand remained pressed on Logan’s shoulder, pinning him as he pointed a long, silver dagger towards Logan's face. Logan's chest tightened as the knife lingered near his face as Dee continued. “If I start to suspect your resolve is weakening, I will not hesitate to put you back in your binds.”

    Logan flinched as Dee brought the dagger down in one swift movement. His whole body went numb with anticipation until the ropes binding his wrists fell to the ground. He barely had time to process the twist of fate before a cloak was shoved into his arms, leaving him staring blankly at his captor.

   “I don't need you freezing to death as we walk,” Dee muttered, snarling as Logan froze staring up at him. “but you'd best start moving before I change my mind.”

    Logan jolted at Dee's hostile tone, nodding as he scrambled to climb the small hill to the decrepit, old road above. He felt his heart pound in his chest and increased his pace as he caught Dee’s shadowy figure catching up in the fog behind him

    “Move quickly.” Dee's hiss behind him sent shivers down Logan's spine as he increased his pace. “We've two days to reach our destination and we can't afford to linger if we’re going to make it to our destination in time.”

    Logan pulled the cloak over shoulders, growling with resent as Dee shoved him forward.  He bit his lip and pulled the hood over his head as he sulked forward, muttering under his breath. “It's hardly seems my fault that you planned this poorly."

    “Don't press your luck on my generosity, kid.” Dee spat irritably from behind Logan. “I didn't have to give you more time with your bastard friends.”

    Logan's eyes went wide at Dee’s heated words and he was suddenly grateful for the hood that now covered his face. He glanced skeptically over his shoulder at the tall figure gliding beside him. His eyes lingered for a moment on the smooth skin of the man's disguised face before turning forward to stare at the ground as they journeyed down the road. Logan tugged at his sleeve, crossing his arms across his chest as his mind raced.

    It's not possible. He doesn't actually care.

---

    Dee sulked behind his captive, gritting his teeth as he shivered miserably in the cold. The chill had long since settled deep into his bones as they'd walked down the road without sharing a word between them. He had to admit he was grateful that the silence as he passed down the road in abject misery. His reptilian nature never mixed well with the cold, wet weather of the forest, especially when whatever god were watching decided to make it drizzle down on them during their entire goddamn journey. Even then, his despair didn't end their. His distinct disdain for the cold was still thoroughly outweighed by the tugging sensation of the subtle glamour hiding his scales. Holding the disguise didn't require much energy, but he'd never gotten used to sensation of wearing a face that didn’t belong to him. His skin burned and tugged as the layers of skin stretched across his scales.

    Fortunately, at the very least, he hadn't had to listen to the kid whine. In the hours they'd been walking, he'd barely made a sound. He'd walked ahead of Dee in silence, staring at the ground, only looking up to occasionally greet the occasional stragglers that had passed them on the road. He'd been wary of the kid’s intentions, but eventually he couldn’t deny that the kid;s friendly nature seemed to draw less attention than if he’d been playing the part of a captive. Dee felt his gaze drift up to the back of the kid’s cloak as he stalked along the edge of the road. Truly, the guy was fascinating to watch. Life seemed to spark in him each time a human traveler passed them, waving and greeting each person in turn as if he knew them. He was downright bubbly with enthusiasm as he greeted them. It was insufferable, and yet, Dee preferred that version of the kid to the one he watched now.

    Without fail, each time the stranger disappeared from sight, the kid's shoulders slumped and his head dropped back to the ground. All of the energy seemed to drain from his body, and the shuffle of his feet turned to that of a dead man walking. Dee chewed his lip at the thought. Unfortunately, the description was less of a comparison than it was an observation. After all, whether he knew it or not, the kid wouldn’t survive this encounter. This was his walk to the gallows and Dee could hardly blame him for dragging his feet.

    “There’s a town ahead.”

   Dee looked up, surprised by the sound of the first words that the kid had spoken to him in hours. “What?”

    “The town ahead has a market.” Logan hung his head as his hesitant whisper broke the silence. “We could stop there for supplies if—”

    “We're skipping the town.” Dee didn’t miss the way the kid flinched at his sharp reply.

    “T-That bag you’re carrying—” The kid paused, almost slowing his pace until Dee growled behind him. “—That doesn't seem like enough supplies for another day. If we could only stop—”

    “The second day of our journey will take place in the Other Realm.” He stated dryly, forcing the kid forward as he hesitated. “Any supplies we get here would spoil and be useless.”

    “The Other Realm?”

    “The Faerie Realm, you idiot." Dee growled, leering down at the kid as he resisted.

    “But—"

    “We’re not stopping. That’s final.” Dee hissed threateningly. “Now, move.”

    “Please.” The kid stumbled backward, voice trembling as he pleaded to Dee to stop. “Grant me one request before we continue—"

    “I’m not taking requests,” Dee hissed as he grabbed the kid's cloak, shoving him on the path away from town. “especially not from you.”

    “Please—” The kid’s plea was cut short as he tumbled over a root, falling back on the rocky path.

    “On your feet.” Dee snapped, feeling his irritation reaching a breaking point. He ached to pull at the skin on his face, and to shed the unnecessary layers of skin hiding his scales. The heat of his discomfort only grew as the kid seemed to root himself down, determined to argue. “We're not wasting time stopping. I will carry you kicking and screaming, if I have to—”

    “I'm only asking to—”

    “Or perhaps, I'll just give Remus the signal to kill your sweet prince.” Dee growled, catching the man's collar and pulling him to his feet. He dangled his glowing piece of amber just out of the man's reach. “I'll leave the choice to you."

    A flash of fear lit up in Logan’s eyes, immediately followed by a glare of seething anger as he stared up at Dee helplessly. Dee watched carefully as the kid's shoulders sank submissively and he pushed himself out of Dee’s grip, making his way down the path away from town. “Fine. I'm going."

    Dee's shoulders sank as the kid turned and stalked down the road ahead of him. Guilt pricked at his heart painfully as he forced thoughts of his old friend from his mind. The kid looked so much like Tara it hurt. He could almost feel her disappointed rage through her kid’s eyes.

    The thought weighed heavy on his heart. Her sacrifice had spared the kid a few extra years of his life, but it had ultimately it had been in vain. Here he was on the precipice of the inevitable once more. Dee grimaced. The kid was facing death after being dragged in a war he was too young to remember. He didn't deserve this fate. Tara would have been furious. Dee flushed with guilt at the thought of the way his old friend’s cheeks used to grow red when she was upset.

    Dee lifted his head, watching the heavy steps of the man walking in front of him. His skin still burned and his discomfort was growing with each step, but he knew taking out his misery on the kid was unfair. He sighed, slowing his pace as he dropped his guard.

    “Logan, stop.”

    His apology was cut short as a sudden snap of a twig behind him sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body. Dee spun on his feet with a hiss, holding his hand out in front of Logan as he scanned the trees behind him.

    “What's happening?” Logan’s worried voice echoed in his ear. “Dee!”

    An eerie, hollow sound floated through the air and Dee’s knees were suddenly weak as a dense, heavy magic settled in the air over him, making him dizzy. Hands caught him from behind, lowering him to the ground as his legs folded abruptly underneath him. His eyes fluttered as panic rose in his chest as he recognized the familiar sound.

    The Seelie's Song.

    “Looks like we've got a live one, boys.”

    Hunters.

    Dee groaned, barely keeping his eyes open as shadows moved out of the woods around them. The eerie song slowed to a stop as one of the dark figures stepped out of the dark. A woman dressed in black clothing stepped forward, dropping a small, white horn from her lips.

    “Stay back.”

    Dee flinched as Logan's voice growled at the shadows around them. Through his blurred vision, Dee could only guess there were four or five humans around them. He tensed trying desperately to stay awake as their ring leader laughed cruelly from above him.

    “Well, look at that. The faerie boy's pet is loyal, even when his master's on the ground.” A chorus of laughter echoed through the trees above him as the woman paced in front of them, leering at him hungrily. “Not that I blame him. This one's powerful enough to stay awake under the horn's charm. He'll fetch a nice price from the southern royals.”

    Dee's breath caught in his throat as realization struck him.

    She doesn't know the kid's fae.

    Of course not. The Seelie’s Song wouldn’t affect him. The horn's magic only drew energy from creatures of the light and the kid was created from the literal darkness incarnate. Not to mention, the kid's appearance was so close to human only a fae could spot the difference.

    “Release your pet and I’ll consider sparing him, faerie boy.” The woman's voice held a certain viciousness as she pulled a dagger from her waist, pointing it down at him. “We're not taking freeloaders where you’re going.”

    “You’re not taking him—”

    “Silence.” Dee hissed, filling his voice with as much power as he could as he held his glare on the woman above. Compelling Logan may not have any effect, but Dee didn’t mind putting on a show if it might convince her. “Leave now. You’re free to go.”

    “But—”

    "Our journey is being cut short. I'm granting you your freedom.” Dee hissed, glancing over his shoulder, desperate to cut off any chance for the kid to give himself away. He growled, glaring weakly up at the hunter sneering down at him. “Go home. Now.”

    He could feel the kid hesitate behind him as the woman raised the white horn to her lips again. The hollow sound of the song settled into his bones, draining the energy from his muscles. His eyes drooped, nearly giving way to the darkness pulling at the edges of his vision. Desperately, he put his remaining energy into one last whisper.

    “Logan, go.” Dee begged. "Please."

    “You heard your boss, kid.” The woman's voice grated in Dee’s ears as Logan’s grip on his shoulders loosened. "Get lost.”

    “Sorry, Dee.”

    Dee swallowed his own fear as Logan lowered him to the ground. His body started to shake as he heard Logan’s slow steps as he backed away, turning to run into the trees.

    “Grab him.”

    Thick hands closed around his arms as he was pulled to his knees. His head hung between his shoulders as rough hands yanked his arms in front of him. Dee sucked in a sharp breath as heavy shackles closed around his wrists. He nearly slumped forward as the last of his energy left his body, but a hand caught his throat, keeping him upright.

    “You’re more impressive than most of our catches.” The woman's fingers gazed his throat as his disguise faded away and she examined his face. “I'll bet I can even talk up your price if I show them your pretty scales.”

     “I will make you regret this, you coward.” Dee whispered, eyes fluttering as he swayed with exhaustion.

    “Oh, honey. You won't get the chance.": The woman's nails dug into his neck, letting out an uncaring chuckle as Dee winced. “You’re going to be on ship out of the country by sun down tomorrow, and once they torture your true name out of you, you'll be no more than a pretty fixture in some spoiled royal's home.”

   “I won’t give them what they want.” Dee protested weakly as his heart dropped in his chest. Reality was starting to sink in as his eyes drooped shut and his shoulders slumped. His eyes dropped to the ground at the sudden realization that this may be the end for him. Certainly, the Seelie Court would search for him, but if he was moved across the sea, they may well never find him. Hell, if they managed to steal his name, it won't matter if he's found.

    I’ll be a slave.

    “You're not going to be given a choice, babe.” The woman forced Dee's face up to look at her. Another jolt of panic shot straight to his heart as he caught sight of the Seelie's Song in the woman's hand once more. “By the time my boys are done with you, you’ll be begging for them to take your name.”

    Fear suddenly rose to his chest as the woman raised the horn to her lips. With a clumsy movement, Dee willed every drop of energy into one last attempt to get away. He pushed himself away from the woman, nearly slipping in the slick mud that had formed from the light gust of wind and rain throughout the day. Dee sucked in a heavy breath, making it only a few steps before the hollow sound filled his ears. The sound resonated through his body and he struck the ground face first, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

---

    The sounds of drunken laughter filled Dee's ears as he groggily lifted his head. His body protested even the smallest movement as he pushed himself to his knees. He had no idea how long he'd been out, but he could feel that soreness had settled over his body as if he'd been laying in the same position for hours. He glanced up, barely able to make out the smallest sliver of the glowing crescent moon through the bars above his head. Apparently, they hadn't been very concerned about keeping him from freezing to death. His clothes were soaked through from the rain that had no doubt been pouring down on him from above while he'd been passed out in the cage they'd thrown him in. He allowed his gaze to drift around his hold. Thick, iron bars surrounded him on all sides. Even the floor was sealed off by the heavy metal bars, resting in the cheap wooden cart. Dee squinted into the dark, finally noticing the dense heavy fabric draped along the walls of the case. No doubt they were their to keep prying eyes off their precious cargo.

   A sudden crack of loud laughter sent him jolting back against the bars of his cell. He shivered, adrenaline pumping through his body as he curled his knees to his chest. Dee closed his eyes, burying his head into his arms as they rested on his knees. His subtle shivering of fear quickly started to gave way to the violent shudders of the cold as he tried to ignore the cold, wet clothes clinging to his body.

    No one's coming to save you.

    The sudden thought was like a punch to his gut, sending waves of nausea straight to his stomach. He suddenly dry heaved, still able to hear the grating sounds of his captors’ laughter above his stomach's rebellious attempt to reject the situation in which he found himself.

    Gods, you’re a failure. You can't even play the villain right.

    Decades of work had been undone by the hunters’ pure luck of stumbling upon them. Dee sucked back a sob at the world’s cruelness. This war had already taken from him the only two people who’d actually cared for him. He hadn't thought he had anything else to lose. Tara was dead and Remy was too busy taking care of his corner of the world to give him the time of day anymore. All he'd had left in his miserable life was his mission to finally end this bloody war for good, but of course, he'd even screwed that up. He'd resigned himself to playing the villain. Bringing the kid to his death would have broken him, but at least the curse wouldn’t have been able to claim any more fae lives.

    This war may never end and it's my fault.

    The kid was gone, probably back to the castle to live out a long life with his dashing prince. At least, he could be grateful that the kid had gotten to escape. Inevitably, another fae would eventually find his secret, but the kid might have easily have bought himself a luxurious life for a few decades by losing Dee to these hunters.

    Pathetic.

    Dee stifled back another sob as wetness flowed down his face. A knot twisted in his stomach as shudders of grief racked his body. Years of tension and grief came rushing to the surface as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

---

    He had no idea how long he'd sat there feeling sorry for himself. Eventually, he could hear the cacophony of loud voices die down as the subtle, flickering light from the hunters’ fire was extinguished, leaving him alone with himself in the pitch-black night. Numbness had long since settled over him as he leaned into the metal bars, ignoring the way his skin burned in contact with the pure iron bars. His mind had gone blank as he stared into the darkness, waiting for the sun to rise so that he may be carted off to whatever fate awaited him. Dee let out a long, defeated breath. At least he didn’t have to hide his face anymore. The humans may take everything else from him, but somehow the gift of not needing to hide his true self brought him a small amount of comfort as he sank into the darkness. His energy slowly drained away as his panic turned to dread. He knew he should rest, but sleep wouldn’t come. Instead, he stared at the back of the cart, watching as the fabric moved.

    Wait.

    Without blinking, Dee lifted his head, examining the moving curtain with caution. He bristled, tasting the air as the figure moved toward the entrance. His tension vanished as a familiar scent hit the back of his throat, bringing tears to his eyes.

    “Tara?”

    Almost as if on cue, the curtain pulled back to reveal Logan's dark figure silhouetted against the pitch-black night.

    “I'm sorry.” The kid hesitantly backed away from the bars as he avoided Dee's gaze. “I'm not—”

    “Logan.” Dee's voice dropped in disbelief as the kid nodded timidly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

    “I wanted to help,” Logan whispered quietly. His shoulders slumped and he let out a long breath as he turned his attention to the lock on his cage. “though I apologize if I’m not who you expected.”

    Dee's heart ached as the kid apologetically avoided eye contact with him. “Don't apologize, kid. Coming for me was far more than I deserved from you.”

    The kid paused, glancing up from the lock. A sad smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he pulled his tools out of his pocket.

    “Wait.” Dee whispered, silently moving toward the door. “I appreciate what you’re doing but one of those goons could come back. Just get out of here. I'll figure it out—”

    “They won’t bother us.” Logan brushed him off, staring intently at the lock as he began to manipulate the pins.

    Dee hesitated, staring at Logan’s quiet expression as he focused on picking the lock. “You seem pretty certain of that fact, kid.”

    “I spiked their alcoholic beverages with valerian root.” Logan dropped his gaze as the lock clicked open. “Fortunately, their excessive consumption should put them out for several hours.”

    “I—You shouldn't have taken that chance, kid.” Dee whispered, staring at him breathlessly. “You could have been killed.”

    The kid took a step back, pulling the door open. His eyes dropped to the ground as he fidgeted with his sleeve. “I didn’t want you to suffer.”

    “Logan, I—” Tears brimmed at the edge of Dee's vision as he slid to the door. “Thank y—”

    His gratitude was cut short as a blood-curdling shriek was ripped from Logan's throat. Adrenaline shot straight to Dee's heart as the fabric fell over the entrance, blocking his view of the kid. Dee leapt to his feet, almost falling through the open door as he rushed out into the night.

    Dee dropped to the ground off the cart, jerking his head around to see Logan struggling in the grip of the woman from earlier. The woman suddenly had an elbow closed tightly around his neck as she leered down at him menacingly.

    “Well, beast. It looks like your help’s a bit more loyal than I gave him credit for,” The woman hissed holding the kid easily around his neck, squeezing just enough to keep him from struggling. “but I'm running this show and you are staying right where I want you.”

    “Listen, just let him go.” Dee rasped desperately, holding up his bound hands in surrender. He held his breath as the kid started shaking in her grip, turning. “Please, you have me. You don't need the kid.”

    “Oh, no. Your pet decided to poison my entire crew and he’s going pay for his indiscretions.” The woman hummed, leering down at Logan. Dee shivered as the woman’s threatening glare turn to him. “Now, get back in your cage, beast.”

    “Not until you let him go.” Dee resisted, keeping his eyes trained on the kid as he stilled in her arms.

    “I don't think so, pest." The woman dropped her hand to her waist, pulling the glistening horn from her waist.

    Dee froze, staring in fear at the magic weapon as he held his bound hands up in surrender. “No, wait—”

    “Get back—”

    The woman's yell was suddenly cut off as the area in front of him lit up in a bright blue light. Dee flinched, covering his eyes as he squinted through the shining light at the woman holding Logan. He gasped as the woman's grip seemed to tense and tighten around Logan’s neck. He watched in horror as the kid twitched in pain, but as the light dimmed he watched as the magic weapon dropped from her limp hand. Dee hesitated only a moment before rushing forward. Swiftly, he brought his heel down on the fragile horn, shattering the weapon into pieces. With the magical weapon destroyed, he spun on the woman with bared teeth.

    He hissed a threat, stalking toward her as she let her hand drop from Logan's throat. The kid instantly hit the ground, coughing and rasping, but Dee's eye remained trained on the woman’s horrified expression as she backed away from him.

    “Stay back. Don't you dare come any clos—”

    “Silence.” Dee hissed as he backed the woman into a tree. The metal of his shackles clanged between his wrists as he pressed the heavy chain against her throat. “Clear out before I end your miserable life.”

    “You do better ro kill me,” The woman growled rebelliously as he shoved her away. “Otherwise, I'll be back to get you and your little p—”

    “Don’t tempt me.” Dee shot scathingly as he threateningly took a few steps toward her. “Now scram, before you make me angry.”

    His heated gaze lingered on the woman as she scrambled away, taking off down the road. He continued to stare until she disappeared into the darkness before turning to the sound of coughing behind him.

    “Logan—” Dee turned on his heels and rushed to the man curled on the ground beneath him. He dropped to his knees as he helped Logan curl upright. “Are you okay?”

    “It hurts.” Logan heaved for breath, clutching his throat.

    “I'm going to fix that for you, kid,” Dee reassured him, leaning forward to help him to his feet as best he could. “but first, we need to get you out of here.”

    The shackles binding his hands made the process slow but eventually Dee managed to get Logan’s hand around his shoulder, dragging him from the horrific mess behind them. Dee could feel Logan’s raspy breath on his shoulder, knowing the man wouldn’t make it far without a chance to catch his breath. Fortunately, by some gift of fate, Dee instantly recognized where they were in the woods and shelter was gratefully within a reasonable short distance. He glanced up as a small cave came into view. The familiar opening darkened as he slowly dragged Logan across its threshold towards the rocky walls.

    “Easy, now.” Dee whispered in the kid's ear as he gently lowered him to the ground. He rested Logan against the wall, chest aching at the sound of the guy's wheezy, uneven breaths. He raised a hand to Logan's face trying to connect with the kid's unfocused eyes. “Logan, can you hear me?”

    The kid’s eyes fluttered wearily, but he managed to nod his affirmation.

    “I need you to be patient, kid.” Dee whispered. His voice was soft and kind as he held his wrists out to Logan. “I’m going to ease your pain, but in order to do that I need you to get these off for me. Can you do that?”

    Logan winced as he swallowed, looking up at Dee. His eyes glistened with pain in the dim light of the moon, but he grunted an acknowledgement. Dee watched sadly as the kid shivered, leaning forward as he reached for his tools. His muscles were tense as he slipped the anchor into the lock. A pit of guilt settled in his stomach at the sight of Logan squinting his eyes as he struggled to focus.

    “Take your time. It's—” Dee's mouth dropped open as the first cuff popped open, falling free of his wrist. “Gods, kid. You’re awfully good at that.”

    “—a simple lock.” Logan mumbled, turning to Dee's other wrist. His chest seemed to seize as he leaned over, hacking painfully.

    “Relax, Logan. Don't speak yet.” Dee whispered, holding a hand out to help steady his shoulder. “You’re nearly there.””

    Logan grimaced. He nodded, swallowing painfully as he moved forward. The process was slower on the second lock. Dee could see the kid struggle to keep his hands steady as he squinted through the dark. He smiled reassuringly, waiting patiently until the lock clicked, falling away.

    “Good job, kid.” Dee whispered, reaching forward to lean Logan back into the wall. He quickly squeezed the kid's shoulder in reassurance as he pulled his bag off his shoulder. Digging through its contents, he found a dense blanket and shook it out. Quickly, he draped the blanket over the shivering man and scrambled to his feet.

    Within a few minutes, he’d found a stash of dry wood hidden deeper in the cave and had built a small fire. The raging flames crackled and sparked radiating heat from the center of the cave. He glanced up to see Logan staring at him from where he leaned against the wall. Dee stood up, smiling gently as he noticed kid had stopped shivered and was now silently watching him move around the fire.

    “Are you ready to feel better, Logan?”

    Dee smiled as the man’s eyes followed him cautiously. Hesitantly, he eventually nodded, watching closely as Dee dropped down next to him. Dee wrapped an arm around the back of Logan’s shoulder, guiding the kid's head onto his chest. He felt a pang of sadness as the kid tensed in his arms.

    “You’re safe, Logan.” Dee whispered. His voice trembled with regret as he looked down at the man resting nervously on his chest. “You have my word that I won't hurt you.”

    Logan nodded stiffly, glancing up at him. There was still a nervousness in his eyes but he settled back into Dee’s chest.

    Dee took a long breath, feeling his eyes begin to glow as he called upon his magic. He exhaled slowly, watching as his palms started to glow with an amber light. His hands traced down Logan's neck, healing the crushing damage done by the woman’s grip.

    He smiled as Logan let out a relieved sigh, sinking into his chest as the aching pain in his throat suddenly eased. Dee's focus narrowed as the tips of his fingers drifted along Logan’s neck. The bruises that had already started to form began lighten as Dee’s healing hands brushed his skin. The process was slow and tedious, but he could feel the subtle changes as the kid's body repaired itself, encouraged by the pressure of his magic. The pain and distrust in the air started to fade as the kid started to ease into his shoulder. Waves of emotion swelled in his chest as the firelight flickered on Logan's face. He managed to contain the emotions raging in his mind for a few short minutes before a peaceful gratitude started to radiate from the kid, sending tears rolling down his face.

    “Kid, I don't know what possessed you to save me.” Dee's voice trembled with shame as his hand stopped glowing and dropped from Logan’s neck. “Given my treatment toward you, I could hardly have blamed you if you'd turned me over to them yourself, but—” Dee hesitated as Logan leaned up off his chest to turned to him. He closed his eyes shamefully, unable to meet Logan's gaze as he mumbled his apology. “—but I'm grateful for what you did, even if I didn't deserve it."

    Logan’s silence hung heavy over Dee as he sat with his head bowed and eyes clenched tightly shut as regret coursed through his body.

    “I'm sorry. I know there’s no excuse for what I've—”

    “Stop.” Logan whispered hoarsely, stopping Dee's half formed apology in its tracks. “I felt how scared you were, Dee. No one deserves to feel that way.”

    “You could have been killed—” Dee rasped, finally pulling his gaze up to meet Logan’s. “—or you could have shared my fate.”

    “It turned out fine.” Logan shrugged him off, raising a hand to his throat. “I wasn't about to abandon you fend for yourself with that witch.”

    Dee stared helplessly at Logan as he curled his knees to his chest, looking despondent. His voice dropped to a whisper as Logan seemed to withdraw away from him. “Logan, I owe you my life.”

    “You don’t owe me anything,” Logan’s response came a moment too quick and Dee frowned as the kid looked to the ground, avoiding eye contact. “but, um, if you do feel the need to make our efforts even, I would still appreciate the chance to stop in a market on our way."

    Dee bit his lip as his shoulder slumped, gesturing to the cave around them. “There are no more towns where we’re going, Logan. Down this cave is the entrance to the Other Realm. From here on, we'll only meet fae.”

    “Oh.” Logan's eyes widened as a sudden sadness swept over his face and Dee felt his heart drop at the quiet, crestfallen look on Logan’s face.

    “Why does it matter so much to you, kid?” Dee whispered as he watched Logan fold his arms into his chest.

    Logan glanced down at his lap. Dee could see him biting his lip, trying to contain his emotions. “I wanted paper and ink.”

    “For what?”

    “I'd hoped—” Logan muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “—I'd hoped to convince you to deliver some letters.”

    “Letters?” Dee's mouth dropped in shock as the kid curled into himself.

    “I know I'm not coming back from this.” Logan's hand tugged at the end of his hair. “I know what you want from me. I just—”

    “Kid—” Dee protested weakly. His heart shattered as tears flowed openly down his face.

    Logan’s voice cracked painfully as a sob was pulled from his throat. “I just wanted to say good-bye to them.”

    Dee rushed forward, closing his arms around Logan’s shoulders. He pulled Logan’s head to his chest as another cry escaped from the kid's lips. The kid shook violently in his arms as he held him tightly. Wet streaks flowed freely down Dee's face as the kid cried himself out on his chest, eventually coming to rest as he breathed heavily in Dee's arms.

    “I don't want to die.” Logan pleaded quietly.

    The kid's soft whisper shattered his resistance and Dee smiled weakly as the wet streaks on his face glistened in the firelight. “You’re not going to die, Logan.”

    “But—”

    “No. I’m not playing the court's game anymore.” Dee spat, his chest aching as he held Logan close to his chest. “You’re not going. I won’t take you.”

    Logan sucked in a heavy breath. “But the hunters—If I don’t—”

    “We'll figure it out together. I promise we'll find a way to save everyone else,” Dee whispered, breathing heavily. “but you’re going to make it home. I'll make sure of it.”

    Logan stilled in his arms as his sobs subsided. His breathing hitched in his throat as he turned up to Dee with red eyes. “Dee—”

      “You—you can call me Janus.” Janus let out a long breath, wiping away his tears as Logan looked up at him with a confused expression. “Dee or Deceit—It's a name I use to keep myself safe, but you can call me Janus if you like.”

    “Janus,” Logan whispered with a small smile as he leaned into Janus’ shoulder. “Thank you.”

    Janus' lips twitched into a smile as he nodded. He leaned into Logan as he held him tightly. Gradually, they finally started to ease their grip, breathing easier as the drifted to sleep in the heat of the fire.

---

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

You Belong With Me Taglist:

@cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname @ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @croftersphoenix @optimistic-violinist @croftersjam15 @actitus-hypoleucos @unbefuckinglieveable @justthatamount @eeveeeclair246 @taxicabinmemphis @theoddkidnextdoor @bluerosesbleedred @bowties--cool @lookingforaplacetosleep @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @007ardra @im-actually-ok @grayson-22 @lunatatic @hope340 @itawalrus @dwbh888

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts #ts logan #ts janus #You Belong With Me #villain writes

[la-tia-panchita]

Letter to José

José when you receive this letter without reason, you'll know it was all over between us.

Fandom: The Three Caballeros

Relationship: José/Panchito

Notes: Hi everyone! I just wanna to tell that I have made my first Panjose fanfic! (Well it is a songifc :b) and although it's on ao3 I want to share it here too! Hope you like it!! ^^. The song with which I was based to make this songfic is called " Carta a Eufemia" and it is interpreted by Pedro Infante, I’ll leave you the song at the end!

Two years had already passed since the filming of the three caballeros and with it two years of courtship between the Brazilian parrot and the Mexican rooster, making family and friends more than happy for the couple; in Brazil because it is the couple with whom the green feathers lasted the longest (not counting the beautiful Rosinha Vaz, but that is another story because between the two there is a relationship that consists of breaking up and returning, well, rather it existed  until the mexican arrived) And in Mexico they were happy because the rooster had finally decided to choose a partner, only there was some disappointment, anger and even lawsuits with his father when he found out that the happy couple was a man and not a woman, but that is also another story. The point here is that although some did not want to admit it, they were all happy for the relationship that these two birds had.

If you ask Panchito how is his luck with women, he would say that it is very good since in his town there are several women who are interested in him, but if you ask him how is his luck in love, surely he would laugh and say that  love was not made for him because no one has ever stolen sighs and sleepless nights thinking of that special person, until he met José.

For Panchito, dealing with José was like a soccer match where you begin observing calmly and as the game progresses it comes the insults, fouls and yellow cards; so yes, when Panchito and José met they did not have a good relationship, but the second half arrived and with it an adrenaline, emotion and a feeling of not wanting to change the channel, until the first goal arrives, making that the team who scored the goal began to scream with euphoria and happiness while the opposing team begins to get frustrated and that's how Panchito's mind was when he first questioned what he was beginning to feel for the samba dancer. And suddenly more goals arrive making more visible who could be the winning team, until a penalty arrives a night before the premier of his film in which the entire stadium fell into deathly silence because that goal is the one that would mark the victory or the defeat, and there we see the player kick the ball and how it approaches to the goal, mocking the goalkeeper who had to jump to stop the ball but still being insufficient because the one who stopped that ball was the net, causing the entire stadium to rise up screaming with excitement and happiness as they finally saw the beaks of the two birds joined in a kiss, thus marking the end of the game and the start of a relationship.

After that night for Panchito it was like being drugged, he felt in the clouds every time he looked at his partner and when he surprisingly kissed him it was as if a gravitational force was dragging him strongly to the floor, and he loved that change of emotions that the brazilian provoked in him. What he did not love was the decision to have a long distance relationship, but he had to reluctantly accept because in Mexico his family needed him and in Brazil they needed José, so with the promise that the two would constantly send  letters, they said goodbye.

And now after almost a year of living in different countries we can see a well-dressed rooster as a charro signing the end of a paper "Done!" He exclaimed appreciating the final product "Here you have" he said handing the letter to his brother Miguel "Read the letter that I am going to send to the José of my life, to see if he answers it to me" Miguel took the letter between his hands and began to read it.

José, cuando recibas esta carta sin razón.

[José, when you recieve this letter without reason]

"You are sure about this?" Miguel ask looking at Panchito disbelief.

"Of course"

Ya sabrás que entre nosotros todo terminó

[You'll know it was all over between us]

"Won't he take it wrong? I mean, this is said to the face" Panchito gave a few laughs as he shook his head.

"Miguel, Why am I going to fly to Brazil to just tell him we're done?" Panchito ask.

"I don't know, maybe for dignity? Honor? Or even so that he doesn't TAKE IT WRONG!?" Remarking the last words, Miguel insisted as if it were the most obvious thing.

Y no la des en recibida por traición.

Te devuelvo tu palabra, te la devuelvo sin usarla y que conste que en esta carta que acabamos de un jalón.

[When you receive it, don't take it as betrayal

I send back your word, I send it back without using it, and I warn you, in this letter that we finish just like that]

Panchito leaned his back on the chair while crossing his arms and replaid "Dignity? Honor? That he doesn't take it wrong? Ay no inventes, better you keep reading the letter and I assure you that you will change your mind" his brother just rolled his eyes and kept reading.

No me escribiste, y mis cartas anteriores no se si las recibiste.

Tu me olvidaste y mataron mis amores el silencio que les diste.

[You didn't write me, and my previous letters I don't know if you received them.

You forgot me, and my love was killed by the silence that you gave me.]

"Don't you think you are exaggerating?" Miguel asked again taking a sip of his drink .

"Oh que la, si no es Chana es Juana" he claimed and running his hands over his crest he let out a frustrated sigh "look, everything that is in the letter is the truth and what I truly feel. Although I continue to have unconditional affection for José, this can no longer continue like this, he is there and I am here and thanks to the distance this relationship has become non-existent, I even forgot how to love him!" he explained.

¡A ver si a esta si le das contestación José!

Pues del amor ¿pa' que te escribo? y aquí queda como amigo

Tu afectísimo y atento y muy seguro servidor

[I'll see if to this letter you gives a reply José!

About love, what could I tell you? And here remains as a friend

Your most affectionate, attentive and very secure server]

"Pancito Pistoles" he read the signature aloud and left the letter on the table "Well there as you see, if you are sure then send it to him" He sighed pulling out his wallet and putting a few bills on the table.

"Pues ya está" Panchito got up from the table next to his brother "come with me to send it" he hugged his brother by the shoulders and the two of them left the restaurant.

-------

The afternoon was setting on the beautiful coasts of Rio de Janeiro reflecting the pink and orange tones of the sky in the sea.

"Zé, you have received a letter" said his friend Nestor entering to the balcony where the parrot was admiring the peaceful landscape while smoking one of his cigars.

José, cuando recibas esta carta sin razón

Ya sabrás que entre nosotros todo término

[José, when you receive this letter without reason

You'll know it was all over between us]

"Muito obrigado" he answered taking the letter in his hands and without waiting, he opened it, he already knew who it was and was eager to read what the mexican would tell him now. Would he tell him that he finally bought Mr. Martinez a new saddle? Or maybe he would tell him how he reluctantly pulled his brother out of a fight again?

When he unfolded the paper and read the first sentences, his brow began to furrow and a void seized him.

No la des en recibida por traición.

Te devulevo tu palabra, te la devuevo sin usarla y que conste en esta carta que acabamos de un jalón.

[When you receive it, don't take it as a betrayal.

I send back you word, I send it back without using it, and I warn you in this letter that we finish just like that]

He entered to his room in dismay and he dropped into the chair at the small desk he had.

No me escribiste, y mis cartas anteriores no se si las recibiste

[You didn't write me, andmy previous letters I don't know if you received them]

His gaze immediately traveled to his desk, which was littered with crumpled sheets of paper scattered everywhere, some on the floor, others in the trash can, and many others on top of the same desk, but there was a place where it wasn't littered with trash. and that was where he kept all the letters he received from Panchito, each one of them was ordered and well arranged by date.

Tu me olvidaste, y mataron mis amores el silencio que les diste

[You forgot me, and mt love was killed by the silence that you gave me]

The anxiety was consuming the poor brazilian who did not realize he was puffing on his cigar too fast until the ashes of the cigar fell into his sack. He put the letter aside and putting out ths cigar into ths ashtray he tried to clean the ashes from his sack, when he finally thought his sack was clean he rubbed his eyes and took the letter again.

¡A ver si a esta si le das contestación José!

[I'll see if to this letter you gives a reply José!]

José squeezed his beak, he knew that there would come a time when Panchito would get tired of not having any information about him, but he never imagined that those lines would cause much impact on him, because just seeing that that sentence was with an exclamation point and that his name was included he imagined as if the rooster was giving a cry of despair and help to know about him. And it is not that José did not want to respond and escape from that relationship, on the contrary, he loves Panchito with all his being and with each letter he received his love for him increased more, only that whenever he was about to write he could not find the words correct and more when everything around him started to go from bad to worse, Zico and Zeca arrived (his nephews whom he loves very much) but unfortunately his sister left, may he rest, the bar where he worked was closed and the money began to scarce and it was in those moments that the only thing that kept him standing were the letters he received from Panchito.

Sometimes it crossed to his mind that he could ask for help from the mexican, but immediately the shame consumed him, then he thought he could start sending letters and after sending some now he could ask for help, but he thought he would look very cheeky and better he didn't sent anything, and now that his life is stable again he does not know what to say, keeping only erasers scattered all over his desk and floor.

Del amor ¿Pa' que te escribo? y aquí queda como amigo

Tu afectísimo y atento y muy seguro servidor

[About love, what could I tell you? And here remainss as a friend

Your most affectionate, attentive, and very secure server]

"Signature Panchito Pistoles" he threw the letter on the table and leaned back in his chair "it's all over" he sighed heavily, although now he wanted to and tried to write him a letter to explain everything, to tell him to wait that he still loves him, that he had not forgotten him and that he was not going to let their relationship end in this way, he did not feel up to it and above all he felt defeated and tired.

He took out a cigar and lit it, letting himself be carried away by the smoke it gave off and his pain until someone entered to his room. "Zé, another letter just arrived." His friend Nestor's voice was heard, but he did not respond and did not even I turn to see, he just sat there smoking his cigar "I'll leave it in bed for you" answered the other walking around the room and when he left the letter he left, leaving José in complete silence immersed in his thoughts.

After several minutes he got up to go get the letter and turn on the light since the darkness of the night had already flooded the room.

Seeing where the happy letter came from, he threw it angrily "o que aquele pedaço de mariachi quer ?! Não é o suficiente para ele quebrar meu coração !? Agora ele precisa tirar sarro de mim, ou talvez..." letter on the floor with hopes and something in it begged that in that letter it would come out that it was all a joke in bad taste or even a warning for not keeping his promise.

With fear he picked up the letter and stopped looking at the details of the envelope, it was strange that the letter was different from the one already known but it could be clearly seen that the sender's address said Hacienda Quintero, he opened the envelope and slowly took out the paper that was inside.

Hi José,

I hope you are well and I hope you will forgive the informality of this letter.

I know what my brother wrote in his letter and I want you to know that I do not agree with the decision he made, well first of all I hope you have already read the letter, if not, everything that comes here will not make sense.

I want you to know that my brother still loves you well, but that does not remove the fact that he is hurt because he thinks you have forgotten him and now he has taken a very proud, very arrogant attitude and God! Not even a day has passed and I can't stand it anymore. So, Mr. Carioca, I kindly ask you if you don't want to send a letter, then at least come to fix my brother and even though I haven't seen you in a long time, I know that you still love my brother.

There I leave you a few Mexican bills (sorry I did this letter suddenly and I didn't have time to look for Brazilian reals) with which you can go to Mexico or you can keep them and do whatever you want with them, consider it as a gift and an apology for the letter from my silly brother.

I am saying goodbye because Panchito is here and he does not know that I have written this letter and I do not want him to find out that he exists.

Miguel Quintero.

He opened his eyes surprisingly, he did not know what impacted him more, the fact that Panchito's brother was playing the cupid, knowing that Panchito still loved him or that José received a second chance.

He checked the envelope again and, indeed, Miguel had given him several bills with which he could pay the last debts he had left or he could go to Mexico to try to win back the love of his life.

He sat slowly on the bed thinking what he would say to Panchito when he see him. Perhaps he would claim the fact that he cut him by letter and did not have the decency to tell him in front, because this things you need to said it to the face.

End Notes:

"Oh que la, si no es Chana es Juana"-- oh what the, if it's not Chana it's Juana. (In Mexico the phrase "if it's not Chana it's Juana" is a colloquial saying that express if it's not one thing it's the other)

"Pues ya está"-- Well that's it

"Muito obrigado"-- thanks a lot.

"o que aquele pedaço de mariachi quer ?! Não é o suficiente para ele quebrar meu coração !? Agora ele precisa tirar sarro de mim, ou talvez" --what those that piece of mariachi wants?! Isn't it enough for him to break my heart!? Now he need to make fun of me, or maybe...

#the three caballeros #panjose #josepan #josé carioca #panchito pistoles #panchito romero miguel junipero francisco quintero gonzalez #songfic #Nestor #Zico and Zeca #rosinha

[weatheredpileoftomes]

a bright particular star

For FFxivWrite2021 Day 26, a free day. I was torn about yesterday’s prompt, so this is the second take on that (explanation of how/why at the end). Set after the eighth umbral calamity, Shadowbringers spoilers through level 79 msq, ~1600 words. Post-apocalypse, discussion of grief, mention of character deaths of varying degrees of canonicity.

The further back he goes, the more personal the records of the Warrior of Light become.

In the Azim Steppe, the records of the Warrior of Light’s presence are folktales; to them Frydlona is as much a myth as a woman.

A salvager trades a scroll taken from a grand house of Doma for a moon’s supply of water purification crystals; its price only increases as it finds its way westward. Jenna finds it at the market and bargains sharply for it before bringing it back to the Ironworks’s current base.

It purports to have been written by Lord Hien. G’raha is no judge of its authenticity; this is as hard to study as Allag ever was. Harder, one might say, since some of the names are ones he knows.

Lord Hien knew Frydlona—he worked with her, for the whole length of the Doman campaign and after, until the Calamity. That in itself is a marvel, and makes G’raha almost afraid to touch the scroll, lest it crumble and waste his hopes and Jenna’s bargaining in a single breath.

They had had records from Ala Mhigo, too; to the survivors of the Calamity she had been less a myth and more the same kind of distant hero she had once been to G’raha himself. There were letters—people who had spoken to her, even fought beside her, wrote of her to their children and grandchildren. The Saltery had been one of the last places in Gyr Abania to yield to despair, with the tales of her role in its restoration to sustain its people.

And yet…and yet.

Lord Hien’s letter—for it is a letter, written after the Calamity—does indeed make passing reference to Frydlona:

I found myself wishing again our late friend were here, less to inspire the citizens of Doma and more to inspire me myself. Often in our travels through Othard we recognized the thinness of our own bravery, and in recognizing the same in each other found the courage to make one more speech to the masses. I am left being brave alone, now.

Of course, she had been only a person—far too mortal in the end—but it is… G’raha is glad that it was Jenna who found the letter, instead of anyone else who might have recognized the significance of that passage.

Three moons later, Claudia makes an even more momentous discovery than Jenna had.

“There is,” she announces breathlessly, tail standing straight out in excitement, “an unexpurgated edition of Count Edmont de Fortemps’s memoirs.”

“You can’t be serious,” says Biggs. “An—how?”

Claudia sighs. “I don’t know. It might be gone by now. But I found a letter from the Count asking that, here, let me read it— ‘In light of the current tragic circumstances, I feel it would be best to make extensive revisions to Chapter Seven of my memoirs, though I retain hope that someday it might be possible to once again share the full record as it occurred.’”

Chapter Seven, G’raha thinks, and remembers after no more than a moment’s thought. The chapter dealing with the struggle for power in Ishgard that was punctuated by Count Edmont’s son’s death and ended with Frydlona striking down the primal archbishop.

What secrets could that chapter have held that the Calamity meant shouldn’t be revealed?

“We should go to Ishgard,” he says.

Claudia stares at him as if he’s gone mad. “Go to Ishgard? G’raha, you’ve heard what’s happening there.”

“Another year of famine has left all of Coerthas in riots,” Biggs agrees. “It’s not safe.”

“Where else would he have left his notes?” G’raha asks. Biggs might be president of the Ironworks, but he is neither a king nor a despot. Chapter Seven had been one of the most striking chapters of the memoirs, second only to Chapter Eight, on the conclusion of the Dragonsong War.

Chapter Seven had certainly been the more intriguing of the two, delving as it did into Frydlona’s transformation from the self-deprecating girl he had once known to the Warrior of Light who saved first Ishgard, then Doma and Ala Mhigo, before her own life was so tragically and senselessly cut short. Whatever was in there, whatever Count Edmont felt shouldn’t be seen—they need to know, G’raha thinks, if they intend to bring her to save the First.

“I think he has a point,” Jenna says unexpectedly.

Biggs throws his hands in the air. “Fine. We’ll go. Claudia, if we don’t come back, this is—no, I won’t talk like that. We have to come back.”

Claudia pulls her goggles down over her eyes. “If we’re going, we’re all going. Don’t even think about trying to fly yourself in—you’re no pilot, and neither is G’raha.”

G’raha would protest, but she’s right.

The flight north to Ishgard is…odd. Claudia dips in and out of fog banks, trying to keep them high enough that they won’t be seen yet still low enough that a crash would be survivable. Smoke billows from the city and the fields around it as they approach; she lands hard and fast, without much grace. “Hurry,” she says.

Jenna picks up a gun large enough for Biggs to use comfortably and shoulders it with ease herself. “Don’t keep us waiting.”

The streets are choked with smoke and dust and rubble, so thick that G’raha can barely see the roofs of the buildings. Fortemps Manor still stands, a welcome shelter.

It had been abandoned not long after the Calamity, when Count Edmont perished at the side of his last surviving son and the line died out. It has been looted in the centuries since, but for necessities more than treasures. Count Edmont’s library is more or less intact, and as much as he regrets the need for haste G’raha does not hesitate to employ it.

He finds the original manuscript in a file drawer. It hardly matters, anyway; they will need to take the Frydlona of later on—closer to the time of the Calamity—to minimize the risk of a different plan materializing instead. Still, he…he wants to know. He takes the manuscript when Biggs urges him to hurry.

Jenna has shot three looters by the time they make it back to the airship. Claudia has the ship in the air before both of Biggs’s feet are on the deck.

“Well?” Jenna asks once they reach clean air again.

G’raha pages through the manuscript. His hands are filthy—soot, dust, sweat—but none of them want to wait until they make it safely back to Silvertear Lake.

“Oh,” he says. His voice is thin in his own ears, snatched away by the wind.

It was…one of the things that had made the Warrior of Light of Count Edmont’s memoirs so beloved, so relatable, and yet so inspiring, was her burden of grief. She was a hero, and she was a woman who had lost what seemed, reading between the lines of Count Edmont’s own uncertainty, to have been a lover, possibly even a betrothed.

(She hadn’t mentioned him when they first investigated the Crystal Tower, just moons before, but that—hardly mattered. There were many things about her life she hadn’t mentioned. G’raha might have embarrassed himself less if he had known, but he doubts it.)

And she had gone on, helping the downtrodden and fighting evil, in spite of that. In a world torn by disaster, where so many people lost those dear to them, they could tell themselves: if the Warrior of Light could bear this, so can I.

Count Edmont had stricken long passages from his original draft. She had borne it, but in a great deal more pain than the stories said. Where people reminded themselves that their hero had pressed on, she had paced the halls of Fortemps Manor until her friends urged her to rest. Where people told themselves that their hero had worked with her friends in the face of daunting odds, she had closed herself off from even speaking to the de Fortempses about their mutual loss. She had been…so terribly alone.

No wonder Count Edmont had wanted to hide this from the people looking to Frydlona Merlgeimwyn for their hope in a dying world. It hurts to read; the knowledge is a jagged thing in the back of G’raha’s mind.

“What is it?” Claudia asks.

G’raha clears his throat. “It’s…personal. He wanted…he wanted people to believe in her.” They all do, even now. “He didn’t want them to see her grieving.”

“What arrogant nonsense.” Claudia’s ears flick in annoyance. “Doesn’t it matter more that she kept on through all that? If she could be—we’ve all lost people. We’ve all had days when we don’t know whether it’s even worth getting out of bed. If the Warrior of Light felt the exact same thing and still managed to do everything she did, doesn’t that make it more worthwhile? Doesn’t that make it easier to follow in her footsteps, not harder?”

“I…I suppose you’re right,” G’raha says. He holds the manuscript out to her.

“Of course I’m right,” Claudia says, and takes it.

“Of the Silver Lining” is a player title unlocked—as it turned out when I looked it up idly for yesterday’s prompt—by the achievement you get for completing the quest “The Light of Hope”, which is the World of Darkness raid quest/the last of the Crystal Tower raid series proper.

#title is from all's well that ends well #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #my fic: frydlona #my fic: frydlona: gen #i GUESS *throws arms in air* #like if you're here for Ship Content you will be disappointed that's my take on it #my fic: 5.0 #g'raha tia

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Sting

Based on this post which introduced me to the Carukia barnesi, a type of irukandji jellyfish that is both the smallest and one of the most venomous.

You can read details and symptoms of irukandji syndrome here, but to avoid spoiling all the fun, I’ll just offer:

“Those stung may experience severe or even excruciating pain.”

And so I thought, of course I’m going to do that to my merman.

CW: jellyfish stings, illness, severe pain, fear, despair, nausea, vomiting, detailed descriptions of pain and suffering.

Tag list for Blue~ @deluxewhump @midwinter-wump @briars7 @0idril0

The ocean is vast. Blue could spend his whole life traveling it and never see it all. He has his favorite places, and those he knows to avoid. The rest of the time he wanders in search of food, shelter, and reefs and shipwrecks to explore.

That’s how he finds himself in these unfamiliar waters. Blue swims slowly, scanning the area both for prey and predators. New places mean new threats.

Threats like other merfolk, carnivorous fish, hungry sharks, humans’ nets and traps - these are the kinds he expects. The merman is unprepared for what comes next.

It starts as almost nothing. A small, negligible pinch to his arm. Blue swipes his arm to shoo away whatever caused it, not even bothering to look. He continues onward.

----

Blue has just found an area to hunt, hungry from a day of swimming, when he begins to feel warm.

At first he thinks it’s just the water. There are warmer and cooler patches, it isn’t unusual.

But as he swims in search of food, the heat travels with him. And soon he comes to realize that it is not the water but him that’s growing warmer.

He stops swimming and just floats for a moment, pressing a hand to his face and trailing it down to his chest. He’s trembling just a little and his movements feel sluggish.

So...so warm...

He blinks slowly, looking around for something, anything that could possibly explain the sudden heaviness that’s overtaken his body, or the heat that brings a flush to his skin or the little chills that he can’t stop.

Blue gives a little moan and drifts down toward the sand. Maybe he overdid it...maybe he just needs rest...

It hits him like an anchor. A sharp twinge in his stomach that makes him choke and double over, crumpling down to the ocean floor. He doesn’t get a moment to recover; the feeling increases rapidly, from a single point of pain to dozens, traveling from his belly up his chest, combining to form one all-encompassing agony.

He groans and flops onto his side, arms curled around his stomach. It feels like he’s being torn open from the inside, like someone has taken everything inside him and crushed it into a ball...there’s no bruise, no injury, nothing to make it make sense. His groans continue, low and weak and pitiful. He can’t hold them back even knowing he might attract predators.

The pain doesn’t stop there. It spreads throughout his whole body. Blue is consumed by a piercing ache in every muscle. His tail goes taut until the muscles cramp but he can’t spare a shred of energy to rub it until it eases. He’s too overwhelmed with pain, writhing in the sand beneath him, begging for it to end.

It doesn’t end. It only gets worse.

His head begins pounding. Suddenly even deep down below the surface everything is too bright. He presses a hand over his eyes, tipping his head back with a moan. His other arm is still wrapped around his torso.

A sudden fit of nausea overtakes him and he turns onto his side and retches up the last of what he’d eaten that morning. The movement only makes the hurt he’s already in flare up. Unable to keep himself upright, he falls back into the sand.

With each passing moment he thinks this can’t possibly go on, it has to stop soon. For even one part of him to stop hurting would be a gift he’d accept with open arms. But the merman is given no such relief.

Different parts of him twinge and throb, sometimes one at a time, sometimes all at once, as though he is being beaten to death from the inside. His skin is burning up, he’s trembling so hard his teeth clack together, he feels so dizzy that when he opens his eyes the water seems to swirl above him. It makes him nauseous again so he keeps them closed.

His thoughts become muddled. He can focus on nothing but pain and the hopelessness that comes with every minute it continues. If his mind were clearer he would know it’s dangerous to be out in the open like this in such a weakened state. But as the pain goes from distracting to agonizing to excruciating, he can no longer think a single thing. His mind goes hazy. Tremors wrack his body. Sounds come out of him that he no longer knows he’s making.

Blue’s world becomes nothing beyond this.

----

The orange-tailed merman is on his way home when he hears the sounds.

He stops, his fins standing on end as he scans the area for dangers. Finding none, he cautiously swims towards the source of it.

As he draws closer it becomes easier to pinpoint what is making it. From afar it sounded like a wounded animal. But, no...it’s another mer, of that he’s sure. Though he’s never heard another mer sound so anguished...

He peers around the edge of a boulder and his eyes land on a limp form. Broad-shouldered, dark hair, a blue tail with lighter blue fins.

Animal, no. Wounded yes.

Or so it seems. It could be a trap...

He swims outward, making a wide arc around the fallen merman until he can see the front of him.

The first thing he sees are the other merman’s eyes. They’re glazed over, dulled to the world around him. They see right through the curious mer watching him. They blink slowly as though wishing desperately to close and sleep but pop back open when a particularly bad tremor wracks the mer’s body.

Those pained noises are even more miserable in person. The blue-tailed merman is partially curled in on himself, arms around his own body as though trying to hold himself together. He is somehow both limp and tense at once, slumped heavily in the sand.

If this is a trap, it’s a good one...

The orange merman draws closer, still cautious but no longer believing it’s a trick.

All of it - the spasms, the flush to his skin, the tension in his body, the pain he’s so clearly in...all of them symptoms he’s heard stories of, but never witnessed himself.

The telltale sign is written in the blue merman’s arm. Harsh, swirling red marks radiate out across the skin from a single point. He’s seen subtle scars like this on older members of his pod. These are fresh. There is only one thing that leaves these marks.

His gaze falls to the merman’s face, to his pained, distant gaze. He doesn’t know how long the other has been like this. Minutes? Hours? Longer? Only that he doesn’t seem to be getting any better. And if he stays here he may be discovered by a mer or creature that isn’t so sympathetic.

The blue merman whines softly when his body is shifted but he offers no resistance. Still, it’s a struggle. The orange mer is smaller and the other’s body twitches and trembles in his grasp. He’s determined, though, and manages to swim despite the challenges.

It’s a relief when a rocky area comes into view. He just needs somewhere to tuck the other merman away. To give him somewhere safe to ride out the waves of pain until he’s lucid again.

He lowers the merman into a patch of kelp between some large stones, knowing the leaves will help cool his overheated skin. Even in his impaired state, the blue merman can feel this. He curls his weary body into it.

As he watches the other relax into the hidden little nook, the orange-tailed merman feels a sense of responsibility for the other. A desire to know whether the other merman survives.

But staying will only endanger the other merman more. If he doesn’t return home his pod will come looking for him, and he can’t guarantee that they’ll show this stranger the same mercy that he did.

Before he leaves he drapes a few cool leaves of kelp over the arm where the merman was stung, layering them on over the swollen puncture wound. The answering soft sigh is one of relief.

The merman gives him one last pitying look before swimming away.

He won’t be there through the many more long hours that pass, when the blue merman’s heart rate will grow dangerously high, when his breaths will become shallow, when his muscles will become tense enough to snap.

He won’t see him come out on the other side and finally wake, too weak to move, still too warm...

But alive.

#whump #merman whump #sick fic #illness #jellyfish sting #pain #nausea #headache #vomiting #fever #irukandji syndrome #caretaking #rescue #my writing #my ocs #blue

[clintbartonswife]

'cause you make me ache, you bastard

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier Summary: The White Wolf had always walked alone, until Jaskier came along and changed it all. He refused to let the bastard die. Notes: aftermath of torture, descriptions of injury and blood, magic and bonds and destiny, oh my! masterlist  ||  part one  ||  part three

The three of them had been travelling towards Kaer Morhen when he felt it, the chill travelling up his spine with such ferocity that it made him halt in his tracks.

“Geralt?”

Ciri was sat upon Roach, the mare coming to a stop beside her owner, nudging the Witcher in the chest gently with her head. Ignoring the child for now, he tried to grab onto the feeling, not understanding the sudden sensation.

“Yen” he grunted, turning to face the sorceress, “Do you feel it too?”

The sorceress nodded, lips pinched together in concentration, “It’s someone calling for help, they sending it out so desperately I doubt they’ve done it on purpose” she said eventually, “But who-”

“Jaskier”

A few days after the mountain and Geralt had found himself stuck in a Cintran cell, the bland walls giving him plenty of time to replay the past week over and over in his head.

Yennefer leaving, hurt blinding him as he lashed out at Jaskier. Walking down the mountain alone. The silence, encompassing him on his travels, and yet it was somehow more deafening than anything the bard could’ve played.

Regret was quick to surface as the anger retreated.

Regret for tying Yen’s fate to his. Regret for the way he treated Jaskier, on that mountain and in general over the last 22 years.

Cintra fell and he found his child surprise, the two of them reconnecting with Yennefer weeks later.

Apologies swapped between the two built a timid foundation of a new friendship, their sole focus being protecting his their child surprise from the Nilfgaardians that were sweeping across the continent.

Despite both of his bonds being fulfilled, Geralt still felt a sense of emptiness at the back of his mind, eyes still searching for someone on the distance horizon - he wrote it off as paranoia, his body being on guard as they fleed the Nilfgaardian forces.

But.

There was always a but, a doubt at the back of his mind, eating away at his sanity. Another thread of destiny, pulled taught, in danger of snapping.

Of course Geralt should’ve guessed it was Jaskier.

Panic bubbled at the base of his throat as he watched Yen start the tracking spell, the small group moved to a temporary camp just off the road.

“Who’s Jaskier?” Ciri asked, voice hesistant.

“Bard”

The short response was obviously not enough for the princess, the girl moving closer to Geralt, “I recognise the name” she commented absently, “I think he performed for me once”

Gerlat hummed absentmindedly, mind too focused on every possible disaster his - no - the bard might have managed to get caught up in.

“I have a trace” Yen announced, Geralt standing up immediately, “He’s in Neunreuth“

Horror swept over Geralt, “That’s a Nilfgaardian controlled city”

Ciri gasped in despair.

“I have to go and get him -”

“Geralt we have no idea what kind of defences they have, let alone what condition Jaskier will be in when we get there. Ciri is our main priority and we need to get her to Kaer Morhen before they catch up with us”

“We cant just leave him!”

Yennefer sighed, the exhaustion creeping in with her annoyance, “And I’m not suggesting that we do! What I’m saying is that we can storm into there with nothing more than good will and hope”

Ciri slowly got to her feet, “I could help. I haven't got much control of it yet... but if I scream-?”

Warmth spread through Geralt’s chest at her offer of help, a small smile lifting at the corners of his lips. Yennefer cut him off before he could speak.

“I’m sure Jaskier would love to hear that you wanted to help, but your safety comes first. It’s simply too dangerous to bring you with us”

“So what? He gets left behind because of me?” she asked, tears beginning to build up in her eyes.

“No” 

Ciri turned to face Geralt, who’s face was set in a determined expression.

“I’m not leaving him behind”

“Will you stop making me out to be the bad guy for one second and listen to me!” Yen huffed, running her hands through her hair, “I’ll contact Triss. Hopefully she can look after Ciri for a few days while we go and get the bard. Then we can continue our trip to the Keep”

With a definitive nod, Yen turned back to her pack, reaching for her xenovox. 

Ciri murmured nervously, hands fiddling with the end of her cloak, “You will come back for me, right?”

Geralt grunted affirmatively, opening his arms for the young girl. Once she was encompassed in his arms, he placed a light kiss to the top of her hair, “We’re your family now” Geralt said lowly, drawing on his experience with the bard for some comfort to give the girl, “We’ll always come back to you”

Once he was sure that she was settled, Geralt turned away from Ciri and back outside to where Yen was waiting, steel sword in hand.

“I don't know what we’re going to find” Yennefer said bluntly, “I need to know that you’re not going to lose your shit if something goes wrong”

Geralt just nodded, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword impatiently.

Triss stood off to the side, still healing from the battle of Sodden, offering wishes of good luck. The mage walked up to Yen, pressing their foreheads together briefly, “Don't do anything dumb”

“No promises”

Geralt adverted his eyes from the intimate scene, feeling oddly like he was intruding on a private moment - over the months since the dragon hunt he had obviously missed a large change in Yennefer’s life.

He was happy for her, truly he was. The emotion confused him, so he repressed it for now, frowning intensely at the floor until Yen let out a cough.

“Let’s go”

The rushing sound of the portal brought Geralt back to the present, striding forward and through with murderous intent, coming out in the middle of the forest surrounding a large manor house.

Yennefer stepped out behind him and the portal closed with a definitive clunk, “He’s in there” she said, checking the charm, “Basement. Left side” 

Geralt just nodded, “Can you portal us into his room?”

“I could try, but it might be too risky. They could easily follow us if they hire a mage to trace the remnants. It could lead them back to Ciri”

The Witcher shook his head, “We fight our way in then”

The stench of death swept across the manor, the sounds of clashing swords and yells echoing through the empty halls.

Geralt strode through the bodies like a man on a mission, faltering for no one, mind solely focused on finding his bard alive. Men dropped around him like flies, his arm moving subconsciously, muscle memory allowing him to make quick work of the guards as he worked on finding Jaskier’s scent.

The second the Witcher caught a waft of the familiar honey and wildflowers he let out a feral growl, increasing his pace to a sprint, rushing towards the source. As he neared the bard, the scent of copper grew overwhelming, only serving to increase his rage and brutality of his sword strikes.

“Jaskier” he growled, pushing open the door of a cell to see his bard tied to a chair, head hanging limply down.

Ignoring the noise of Yennefer fighting the final few enemies, Geralt fell to his knees in front of the chair, desperately searching for a heartbeat. His breath caught on a sob as he heard the weak fluttering of his heart, hands immediately scrambling to untie the ropes that kept him tied down.

Geralt distantly registered the halls falling silent, Yennefer’s heeled shoes becoming the only sound left as he eased Jaskier’s unconscious form into his arms.

“We should get him back to Triss” Yen said, her voice coming from the doorway, “He should survive the journey. It’s too risky to start healing him here”

Geralt nodded silently, his eyes not straying from Jaskier's bruised face. He adjusted the bard once more in his arms, his hand cupping his limp head as gently as possible, before following Yen through the halls of dead bodies, all the while never looking away from his face.

“Wait” 

Yen paused, turning back to face Geralt, “What now. We have him, we should get going before they send people to look”

“His lute” Geralt said, “He wouldn't leave without his lute”

The sorceress sighed, rubbing her temples, “Just - get him out of here. I’ll meet you in the forest”

As the portal re opened, lute hanging on Yennefer’s back, Geralt took one last look at the manor and resisted the urge to set it ablaze with a passionate blaze of igni, instead walking through and back to the cottage, calling for Triss as he went.

“Place him on the bed, second room on the left” Triss called, looking behind Geralt for Yennefer before following him, pushing the sleeves of her dress up to her elbows with a determined look on her face.

“Is he okay?” Ciri asked, vocalising the choked up words stuck in Geralt’s throat as he lay the bard down.

“He will be if we work fast” she replied, gesturing Yennefer to her side, “Ciri I need you to get me some tepid water. Geralt I need clean strips of cloth”

Geralt nodded, grateful for a job to do, taking one last look at the bard’s pale form before striding out to look for supplies.

He would be okay.

He had to be.

________________________________________________________________

@kittynannygaming  @fillingless-piee  @nanazlovese​  

#geraskier #Geralt of rivia #jaskier #Jaskier whump #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #Jaskier fanfic #Jaskier fanfiction #Jaskier fic #Geralt fanfiction #Geralt fanfic #Geralt whump #geraksier whump #triss merigold #Yennefer of Vengerberg #Yennefer x triss #cirilla fiona elen riannon #whump #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction

[talkfastromance4]

Castaway (l.h)

Summary: In which Luke is left broken and untethered from a toxic relationship and Michael’s younger sister visits bringing her own light into his darkness.

Warnings: toxic relationship tendencies (fighting, throwing things), panic attack, smut, some swearing and I think that’s all

Word Count: 16.9K

author’s note: I’m so excited to finally share this with you! I started this fic about like 6 months ago and I finally finished it! I hope you enjoy it and feedback is always welcome❤

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

• • • •

Growing up it was undeniable the infatuation Michael’s younger sister Emmeline (Emmy) had for one of his best friends, Luke Hemmings. She was shy on principle but when Luke was around it increased by tenfold. She stammered a lot and blushed like crazy, which resulted in Michael teasing her about it in secret but never in front of his friends, even though they knew.

Emmy was sweet, innocent and so short compared to the four of them they graced her with the nickname of Pipsqueak, or Pip for short. When the band left to tour for the first time, Emmy missed her brother like crazy. Being so close to Michael for so long and watching him be halfway across the world was hard.

Both of them had grown up without the other, and it took a toll on Michael as well as Emmy because he adored his little sister and facetimed as much as he could or called her on the phone. He’d relay the boys’ greetings to her until all three of them appeared in the shot acting like the goofballs that they were.

Emmy tried to keep her gaze on all of them but she always ended up staring at Luke. More often than not he’d be staring at her as well, his crystal blue eyes zeroed in on her until Calum did something completely ridiculous thus snapping Luke out of his trance. She loved seeing the ghost of his infectious smile appear, and she adored his shyness because she related to it. And then she’d be right back laughing with her brother and his best friends while they did wacky stuff to make her smile.

When the band went on their hiatus, they still didn’t come home so Emmy flew out to them after Michael informed her they’d been writing again. She’d finished school and pursued a job in childcare.

It’s been almost three years since they went in the shadows but Michael promised something was in the works. At the end of the summer she’d be joining them to Bali as well which she was really excited about.

Walking through the terminal she looked around for a sign of her brother’s artfully colored hair over the crowd of average height people and she spotted him.

“Mikey!” she squeals running steadfast to her brother.

“Ems!” he shouts in the same demeanor, his arms open wide and she lunges into them. He lifts her up, her feet dangling in the air as the siblings hug after so long.

“You changed your hair,” they say at the same time when he released her then they laughed.

He went back to his natural blonde and she dyed hers a pretty dark brown.

“I like it, dark suits you,” he comments picking up a strand in between his fingers.

“Thanks,” she smiles then glances around. “Where’s Crystal?”

“Cleaning,” he chuckles, “she wanted the house to be perfect for you when you arrived. I told her it’s just you but she wouldn’t listen.”

Emmy pouts, she hates when people go over the top for her, it’s not necessary and completely not worth the trouble.

“She didn’t—“

“I know,” Michael closes his eyes sighing. “Come on, people are beginning to notice me.”

“My brother the rock star,” Emmy smiles proudly but follows him as he takes her bags. The rest will be delivered to his house, she’s staying with him and Crystal for the summer and traveling to Bali with them and the boys.

“Other rock stars are excited to see you, too,” Michael mentions once they’re buckled in his car.

“I’m excited to see them, too,” Emmy smiles shaking her leg as if to showcase her anticipation. One in particular.

“If Luke seems a bit . . . standoffish, it’s not you. All right?”

“Because of what happened with . . . her?” Emmy makes a face.

Michael puffs his cheeks and blows the air out in exasperation. “Yeah. He’s been staying with Ashton. He’s still trying to bounce back to himself. Don’t say anything.”

“You know I won’t.”

“I know, you’re a good egg,” he reaches over and pinches her cheek, “Pipsqueak.”

•••••

Crystal is hugging Emmy before she’s even halfway through the door, Michael shuffling past two of his favorite people to bring in the luggage. Crystal is gushing over Emmy’s hair and telling her about the new sheets she got for her room because ‘you aren’t just a guest so it should be your room.’

“I’m so glad you’re here, the guys are coming over for a little welcome party for you. So if you need to take a nap or shower, please do, okay?”

“Okay, thanks Crys,” Emmy finally gets a few words in. She loves Crystal’s bubbly personality and it makes her a little more extroverted.

After her nap, Emmy heads downstairs and into the kitchen where she hears all the voices. When she enters, Ashton shouts “Pipsqueak!” and she’s bombarded with two tall men hugging and ruffling her hair.

“You haven’t grown at all, Pip,” Calum grins patting her head.

“Shut up,” she grumbles nudging his hand away but she’s laughing along with them. “You guys just have a weird genome make-up.”

“All right fancy pants,” Ashton chuckles. “Want a drink? We’re going out for the best steak in your honor but we need a drink beforehand.”

“Is that so?” she raises her eyebrows but follows them. She notices Luke standing off in the corner, his own mixed drink in his hand. Emmy falters when she sees him.

It’s been about 3 years and he’s grown. In many senses of the word. For one, he’s the tallest of the guys, even slouched over, his hair is a bit longer with hints of curls on the ends and he’s got a nice amount of facial hair. He’s still devastatingly handsome but Emmy can see the toll the breakup has had on him.

His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles underneath them, his cheeks are a little sunken in and his whole body language is screaming ‘despair.’ Emmy’s always been able to read the emotions off of others and it broke her heart to see Luke in this state. It made her uneasy but remembered what her brother said and forced herself not to draw attention to him but she gave him a small smile.

So instead, she pulled her attention back to Calum and Ashton who were fighting over what kind of drink Emmy would want.

“If you guys came home for my legal birthday you’d know I love Malibu and pineapple juice,” she teases.

Calum and Ashton look at each other then nod. “We’re ignoring that jab, Pip,” Ashton says, “but I’ll make that drink.”

From the corner of her eye, Luke’s watching the whole scene before him. She’s not hurt in the slightest from his lack of interaction, she can understand where he’s coming from. When he’s ready, he’ll make his presence known.

Hopefully.

After their cocktails are finished they head out to the restaurant. Luke somehow has a hat and sunglasses on as they enter the building. Clearly he doesn’t want his photo taken but the paparazzi are around and will take snapshots of what they want.

Emmy expected this, she prepared herself for the moment when the time came. But prepping your mind and actually experiencing it are two very, very different things. Instinctively, she went to Michael who tucked her under his arm immediately ushering her and Crystal past the photographers.

“I’d say you get used to it, but you really don’t,” Michael sighs.

“It’s fine,” Emmy shakes her head. But inside she was having a slight panic attack. How did they do this day after day? People calling your name and shoving a camera in your face?

Luke removed his hat and sunglasses following the group to the table in the private room upstairs. He hasn’t seen Emmy in a long time, but she’s still cute and tiny as ever. He wanted to say hi, he really did. He wanted to give her a hug and call her by the nickname they created for her, he really did.

But his wounds are still bleeding fresh and he doesn’t want to drop his toxicity on her who has always been her own little ball of light. He listened to the conversation, hummed or did a half smile at all the right parts. But lyrics and piano notes filled his head. He was itching to write but whatever he wrote always came out as garbage.

When dinner was over, they exited the restaurant but the photographers increased with some fans screaming. They all huddled together, with Luke bringing up the caboose and also right behind Emmy. He towered over her, and it’s because of that he noticed she was about to fall when he steadied her back on her feet. Some fans would do anything for a picture.

“Keep walking, Pip,” he told her still holding onto her waist to make sure she didn’t almost fall again.

Her head snapped to the side when the nickname slipped from his lips. She smiles up at him and without even thinking, Luke smiled back. Not a half smile but an actual smile. His long fingers hung lightly on her waist as he ushered her towards the car. He didn’t let go until she was safely in her seat, she flashes him another smile.

For the whole ride back to her brother’s house, Emmy’s skin still burned where Luke’s hands grabbed onto her. She’d thought after all these years, of her growing up, her crush on Luke had disappeared. But then he smiled at her and she was right back to where she started.

•••••

Luke has been in sort of a hazy daze since his horrendous break-up, he couldn’t sleep at his home so he crashed at Ashton’s a lot. Ashton kept him in check by watching his alcohol consumption and amount of weed he smoked, making sure it was kept at a minimal rather than a mess he did not want to clean up.

Ashton offered words of advice and encouragement but the youngest brother of his was like a shell, empty and void of color. When he looked at Luke, he paled in comparison to who he truly was. His exuberant color faded as soon as things began to go bad with Lea, they didn’t even get to be bad because it went straight to worse.

When they’d go out on the town it always ended with her stalking off with attitude and Luke would be his sweetest self, trying to figure out what was wrong. Then she’d get mad that he didn’t already know and they’d fight all the way back to his home, making the car ride extremely uncomfortable for the driver.

Then it went from worse to catastrophic at the snap of a finger, and it was at the fingers of Lea. She spit harsh words at him, degrading words, words that told him he was of no value and she finished her tirade with knocking over a potted plant and throwing a vase full of (now dead) flowers against the wall.

She threatened to leave him, and at that point Luke had no idea what the hell to do anymore so he let her. That caused another infamous Lea scene as she threw her things into a suitcase all while cursing his name and their relationship as she did so. Before she left in a tornado of cruelty, she yanked the chain around her neck that held Luke’s favorite ring he gave her and chucked it at him.

It hit his chest lightly, falling intricately and ironically into a figure eight at his feet. The door slammed and she was gone. And Luke was hollow.

It was nearing midnight when Ashton’s phone rang, Calum was over and they exchanged a look of worry when Luke’s face appeared on the screen. They knew it was something bad.

“Luke--?” Ashton answered right away but stopped when he tried to listen to his dear friend utterly breaking down. He could only get out a few choice words: left . . . Lea . . . gone . . . forever . . . necklace . . . fucking crazy . . .

Ashton did his best to soothe him over the phone all while motioning for Cal to call Michael and he picked up his keys.

He told Luke to breathe. He told Luke to count to ten and try breathing again. He told Luke he and Calum and Michael were on their way. He told Luke to hold on.

It was a disaster zone when they arrived. The big ugly potted plant (that Lea insisted on buying) was turned over on the floor, dirt spread everywhere. Broken glass scattered the floor as well, along with water and dead flowers and Luke was in the midst of destruction with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands.

“Shit,” Ashton hissed running to him immediately. Calum called Michael again this time in a panic, his eyes wide at one of his best friends, his brother, coming completely unraveled in Ashton’s arms.

“Luke, Luke, listen to me, you can’t stay on the floor,” Ashton said trying to pry his fingers from his face. “Let’s go outside, yeah? You need fresh air.”

After some more coaxing, Luke finally heaved himself off the floor with the help of Ashton just as Michael came through the door. His eyes widened at what he saw, Ashton nodded to the mess then to them before ushering Luke out in the back. His hold on the younger boy’s shoulders were strong and present, ready and able to catch him if he fell.

Calum and Michael got to work right away cleaning up the mess Lea left behind. Michael picked up the necklace setting it on the countertop. They knew the mess was more than broken glass and spilled dirt, the mess was inside Luke because she worked her way in his psyche. The mess was far from being treated.

•••••

Luke had completely forgotten that Emmy would be coming to stay with Michael and Crystal, but he forgets things easily these days. He’s still in a fog but at least he’s not getting drunk and high every night now.

He made sure to watch his intake and stayed clear of weed, which the boys also cleared their stash because Luke was far more important than a momentary buzz. So when he arrived at Michael’s he was confused as to why they hadn’t left yet.

“Emmy’s still napping from her flight,” Crystal explained taking a sip from her pink wine.

As Luke’s face remained a state of confusion, four pairs of eyes stared at him helplessly.

“Remember, Ems is staying with us for the summer?” Michael asks slowly.

Not wanting to look like he was still shattered, Luke acted like he remembered.

“Oh, right I knew that. Forgot she got in today, that’s all,” he shrugged.

The relaxed exhale from them all eased him a bit, but he still felt like an idiot so he poured himself a glass of whatever was in front of him.

He shuffled to the corner, which has become his safe place lately. He’s still present with his company but he doesn’t have to keep talking and he’s thankful they gave him the space he needed. He didn’t really want to go out tonight, he wanted to go back home and sleep.

“Pipsqueak!” Ashton shouts very loudly it almost caused Luke to drop his glass.

When he looked up he saw Ashton and Calum hugging Emmy, he couldn’t see her though, Ash and Cal were like walls blocking his view. When they finally released her, Luke couldn’t help but stare.

The sweet girl he’d known growing up wasn’t present anymore. She was still tiny so her nickname they came up with still fit. Instead of her light blond hair like Michael’s, he was looking at a dark brunette and it really brought out her eyes which were a striking deep blue.

While Ashton chattered about what type of drink she’d like, Luke kept his eyes on them and Emmy kept glancing his way. He sucked in a breath ready to say a hello but she never brought him into the group.

At first he was hurt, was he really not that important for her to acknowledge him? Then when he caught her eye again she gave him a kind smile that was missed by everyone else but him. He exhaled gratefully, that greeting was enough.

When they were leaving the restaurant Luke cursed to himself in his head at the photographers that seemed to multiply, along with some fans. He ended up in the back by Emmy and he towered over her completely. Was she always that small? Luke couldn’t remember.

But his height came in handy sometimes, like now when he noticed her stumble slightly in front of him and before she fell on her face he reached out to prevent it.

“Keep walking, Pip,” the words slipped out of his mouth without missing a beat. She turned to look up at him and smiled which he also returned very easily. Her body was warm as he guided her a bit more quickly to the car.

When he helped her climb in, she shot him another smile but he didn’t reciprocate that one. He’d smiled twice that day, and each time was due to Emmy. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

•••••

On the third day of Emmy being with her brother, she decided to make lemon poppy seed muffins, but with real lemons. Both Michael and Crystal took their respective cars to do whatever they had to do so she couldn’t drive to the store and get fresh lemons. Then she remembered Ashton had a lemon tree in his backyard.

When she texted him asking if she could use some, he told her absolutely but he was out shopping with Cal and told her Luke would be home so she could go right over. Emmy chewed on her bottom lip, she didn’t want to bother Luke but her need to have lemon poppy seed muffins was greater.

It took her nearly twenty minutes to walk to his house but it was a nice day so she didn’t mind too much. With a deep breath she knocked on the door and hit the doorbell. If he didn’t answer in the next twenty seconds, she’d call it quits and head back to her brother’s. When she counted to eight the door opened and revealed Luke still looking a little disheveled like last night.

Dark circles were still present under his eyes, and he just looked exhausted. He was wearing a white t-shirt and faded skinny jeans.

“Uh, hi!” Emmy greets her voice a little high. “Um, I’m making lemon poppy seed muffins but I don’t have a car or lemons and Ashton said I could take some from his tree and he said you were home. So . . .”

She said everything in such a rush Luke stares at her in confusion until her explanation marinates in his brain. She needed lemons.

“Yeah, all right.” He mumbles opening the door wider and lifting his arm up higher. “It’s in the back.”

She pauses for a moment waiting for him to move out of the way, when he doesn’t she ducks under his arm (though she could have easily walked normally because he was that tall) and enters the house. Emmy glances around at her surroundings before seeing a sliding door to the backyard.

The tree was a bit taller than her and it had a lot of lemons much to her excitement. She took care in picking the perfect ones, she needed six, then looked up at Luke as he shuffles in the opening.

“Do you have a plastic bag I can put these in?” she asks.

He nods silently then disappears back in the house. Emmy sighs feeling a little jaded at his silence but she reminds herself to give him space. She went through something similar with her most recent ex. Time does heal all wounds, it’s just annoying when you don’t know how much time exactly it will take.

When Luke returns she smiles a thank you and pours her gathering into the plastic. She loops the handles through her fingers stepping back into the house.

“Did you walk here?” he asks from behind. Emmy spins around to face him, his brows are pulled together.

“Yeah, it’s only a twenty minute walk,” she shrugs continuing her path to the front door.

“Hang on, I’ll drive you. My car’s out front.”

“Oh, no. Luke, you don’t have to—“

He already snatched his keys and brisked past her out the front door.

“All right, then,” she sighs following him. She makes sure to lock the door so no robbers come to Ashton’s house. She slides into Luke’s sleek black car and buckles herself in.

She doesn’t notice Luke smirk at that, it’s a ten minute drive did she really think they’d hit something? He doesn’t say anything and drives to Michael’s house.

He pulls into the driveway not bothering to put it in park.

“Thank you,” she says then stops when she’s halfway out. She looks back at him and asks, “Do you want to help me make them?”

“You’re—what?” he had his automatic response to say ‘you’re welcome’ ready but her question caught him off guard.

“Muffins,” she lifts the bag, “want to help me?”

He stares at her with his mouth open. She wanted him to stay and help make muffins? Why would she want him to help?

Why did he put the car in park and get out following the short girl inside?

She rolls the lemons out of the bag, catching the ones that were a bit more dangerous of rolling off the counter then she began prattling of directions for him to do. Luke had no idea why he listened, he had no idea how to make muffins from scratch. He sighs doing what she says, it’s better than being alone doing nothing.

“The glaze is the best part,” she says while she’s pouring the batter into the colorful muffin cups. “It’ll taste even better since we used real lemon. Did you know poppy seeds come up on urine tests as drugs?” she giggles at her little known fact and Luke smiles at her.

“I eat so many of these that I’d probably look like I’m on a constant high,” she continues as if his smile was enough of a response. Luke appreciates that.

When the pans are full she places them on the racks and Luke catches himself staring at her ass as she bends over, her jean shorts fit her perfectly. He averts his gaze back to the glaze he was mixing.

What the hell was that? Did he really just check out Emmy’s ass?

“Do you want some tea? We can sit outside while we wait for them to be done,” she says already pulling the pitcher from the fridge.

Luke clears his throat, “sure.”

He follows her outside to the patio, the pool water glistening in the LA sun and she sits on one of the chairs around the small bonfire pit. He sits in the one next to her and take a big gulp from his iced tea. It was perfectly sweet.

“I made that this morning, I hope it taste okay,” she says.

“’ts perfect,” he comments running his thumb over the condensation that’s already formed.

They sit in a comfortable silence but he can feel her gaze on him the whole time. Normally he would snap at anyone who would stare but he didn’t feel the need to. He knew she was analyzing him. She’s been that way since she was little but he didn’t want to talk about him or his feelings.

“Hey, Luke?”

“Hm?” he hums still looking at the droplets on his glass.

“You don’t have to now, or ever, but if you ever do want to talk I’m a good listener. I’ve gone through the same thing.”

He looks up at her in surprise, eyebrows raised.

“Just wanted you to know,” she smiles shyly then takes a sip of her tea before looking back at the pool.

They sit in a comfortable silence sipping their iced tea until the alarm on her phone goes off signifying the muffins being done.

“Come on,” she says lightly. To his surprise she grabs his hand in hers towing him inside to the kitchen.

She made it seem like the easiest thing in the world, grabbing his hand and Luke couldn’t deny that he really, really liked it. Despite her being so much smaller than him, her hand fit in his perfectly. To his dismay she let go as soon as she picked up the oven mitts and opened the oven.

He felt the heat engulf the air surrounding them, she sighs happily as she sets the first tray of muffins down.

“They’re perfectly brown,” she gushes, her big blue eyes staring up at him happily before going to get the other pans.

Once all the trays were laid out, she carefully tipped them over letting the muffins tumble out onto the counter. Without her telling him Luke began facing them right side up.

“Careful,” she murmurs without a second thought.

Luke glances at her, it seemed so easy for her to be concerned about him. To have his best interests at heart; first with what she said out by the pool and now telling him not to burn himself on the muffins. Two vastly different things, but still. It filled Luke with a warmth he hasn’t experienced in a long time.

“Okay!” she claps her hands once the mitts are off. “You can put the glaze on.”

“Me?” he asks watching her clean up the pans in the sink, the cool water hisses as it touches the hot pans.

“Yeah, you made the glaze, you can put it on.”

“I don’t want to do it wrong,” he furrows his eyebrows.

“There’s no wrong way to do it,” she giggles grabbing the bowl of lemon glaze and a spoon. “You can drizzle, you can plop as much as you want on it, you can even make . . .” she took the spoon scraping the gooey goodness onto it then dabs two circles and a smile beneath them. “A smiley face. Here.”

She hands him the muffin she decorated and Luke smiled back at the happy muffin.

“He’s cute,” Luke chuckles softly picking up the spoon and getting to work.

They continue to work in silence, him decorating (he made muffins look like the guys and was working particularly hard on one) while she continued to clean the kitchen of their baking mess.

“Finished?” she asks.

“Don’t look yet,” he turns his back blocking her view from his masterpiece.

“What are you doing to that muffin?” she laughs trying to sneak a peek. “Don’t be naughty!”

“I’m not being naughty, Pip,” he chuckles. “It has to be perfect, look at the other ones. Guess which one’s your brother.”

She scans the other muffins then giggles when she notices one with ‘hair’ covering it’s eyeballs. It was actually quite good for only using glaze.

“Okay, finished.” He spins around holding the muffin in his palm.

Emmy steps a little closer peering at the muffin. He seemed to have taken the most time with this one. The eyes are big, the mouth looks pretty and he drizzled the sides so it looked like hair.

“Is that . . . supposed to be me?” she mumbles looking up at him.

His eyes soften when they make eye contact and he bites his bottom lip before nodding. “Yeah. Do you like it?”

She smiles slowly, glancing back at the muffin and the way he’s holding it so it wouldn’t fall on the floor.

“I love it, looks just like me,” she giggles again.

He sets it down on the counter gingerly, leaning his hand on the counter as he leans closer to her. His blond hair falls in front of his eyes.

“Thanks for all of this,” he says gently.

“For making muffins?”

“No, well, yes but for not pushing for answers or explanations or asking how I’m feeling. It’s nice not being looked at like a china doll.”

She stares up at him in shock, that’s the most he’s said to her since she got here a few days ago. She’s noticed how deep his voice is, how sultry it sounds and how it makes her knees weak.

“You’re welcome, Luke,” she rests her hand on top of his. “Believe me when I say that I know exactly what you’re going through. Trust me.”

He frowns at that, how could someone who radiates light and happiness know what it’s like to deal with the aftermath of a toxic relationship and a nuclear break up? How could someone have done that to her?

“You do?”

“Yeah, and it does get better. No one else can fix it but you, and it takes time.”

“Who hurt you? Mike never said—“

“Michael never knew,” she shakes her head. “It all happened while you were touring. I couldn’t bother him with it, there was nothing he could have done anyway. And now it’s over and I’m better and it’s done with,” she shrugs.

“What happened?”

She opens her mouth to reply when the front door bangs open and Michael’s already chattering away.

“I smell food! Delicious food!” he exclaims entering the kitchen.

Luke and Emmy break away from each other instantly, Luke’s hand already feels cold without hers on top of his. Instead he uses it to rub the back of his neck.

“What did you—oh. Luke! What’re you doing here?” Michael smiles excitedly upon seeing his best friend while Emmy giggles at her brother’s antics.

“He helped me make muffins from Ashton’s lemon tree,” she explains.

Michael glances between Luke, the muffins and Emmy, then repeats the action twice more before shaking his head in disbelief.

“Wow, that’s great. Are you sure Ashton said you could use his lemons?” he peers closer at the muffins taking a whiff of the lemony scent.

“Yes, I called him.”

“Why didn’t you go to the store?”

“Hm, maybe because I don’t have a car? Duh.”

“Okay sassy pants,” Michael laughs, “you could have called an Uber.”

“That’s just stupid. I’d pay for the car then I’d have to pay for the lemons and pay again for a ride home? Ashton’s was closer. And free,” she grins triumphantly and Luke smiles.

Her logic was pretty spot on.

Michael stares at Luke for a moment, he hasn’t seen him smile—a genuine smile—in who knows how long. “Fair point. I’ll rent a car for you to drive while you’re here.”

“I can drive her,” Luke suggests with a slight shrug.

Both Clifford’s turn their attention to the quiet blond. Emmy’s eyes are glowing and Michael is staring at him like he’s got two heads and a unicorn horn.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah, really? You don’t have to, Luke, you’re not her chauffer,” Michael shakes his head. What the hell is going on with him?

“I don’t mind. It’ll give me something to do, it’s no big deal,” he shrugs again then looks between both siblings. “Really.”

“Thanks Luke,” Emmy smiles.    

•••••

Emmy: hey muffin man, want to get some fro-yo? Mike and crys don’t want to L

Luke: it’s like 10 at night, aren’t they closed?

Emmy: all but one ;) I’ll send you the address. Pretty please?!

Luke: all right lol I’ll be there in 5

Emmy: thanks muffin man, you’re the best

 Ashton peeks his head out of his drum room, his headphones hung around his neck. He heard Luke exit his room and jingle his keys.

“Where are you going?” Ashton asks trying not to sound surprised.

“Fro-yo,” Luke says simply.

“By yourself?”

“No, I’m going to pick up Emmy.” He fits his snapback on his head then turns to Ashton as if waiting for him to stop him.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun, mate,” Ashton smiles but inside he’s screaming in excitement. Luke nods his goodbye then leaves through the garage. Ashton immediately calls Calum to tell him the news.

It’s been so long since Luke has wanted to go out and actually do something since what happened with Lea. Yes, it was eleven months ago but he was still hurting. They could all feel it, and now, with Emmy being here for only a week, she’s got him making muffins and going to get fro-yo at ten thirty at night.

•••••

Luke couldn’t help but glance at Emmy while he drove down the street, she looked undeniably cute in her pair of black leggings and long sleeved shirt. She took her flip flops off and sat cross legged on her seat because she’s small and she can.

He had a permanent smile on his face listening to her rant and rave about this 24 hour frozen yogurt place called Moon-Glo that she found on Google. She was reading off all the flavors they had for the night and he could already tell which ones she was going to get.

He had the worst desire to reach over, take her hand and kiss her knuckles while he drove. He shook his head trying to clear the thought but ever since they made muffins a few days ago, he’s been thinking of her nonstop.

Thinking of her also made him think of the guy who put her through a bad break up. He wanted to know what happened, how she dealt with it and how that guy could possibly let someone like Emmy go.

“Hey, you over there,” she says.

He feels her finger scratch at his elbow gently to get his attention and he looks over.

“Hm?” he hums.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Um . . .” he heaves a big sigh turning into the parking lot of the yogurt shop. He puts the car in park but keeps it running. “What happened, with your last relationship?”

He chews on the inside of his lip, gripping the steering wheel waiting for a response. When he hears her sigh he risks looking her way. He was expecting her to be angry but her lips were pursed, which he couldn’t help but find adorable even under his heavy question.

“Let’s get our yogurt first.”

“Right,” he mutters shutting off his car.

When they enter the small shop it’s designed to look like the moon. Craters are painted on the floor, walls and the ceiling. Little astronaut men stand on the tables and neon lights are displayed above the yogurt machines, making the flavors appear to glow in the dark.

“This is so cool!” Emmy gasps then takes Luke’s wrist dragging him to the counter that has the little testing cups. Taking a risk, he twists his hand in her grasp so he can grab onto her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. He finds a small victory that she doesn’t yank away. “Let’s try them all.”

They held hands while they sampled the flavors, except the peanut ones, and Luke was over the moon (pun intended). She decided on a black cherry with vanilla, and added fruit and caramel and little gummi bears. She topped it off with a cherry.

Luke went for chocolate and added Oreo crumbles with coconut shavings. He paid for her and he noticed her cheeks turn rosy. He had to stop himself from bending down and kissing them.

“You want to eat in here?” he asks grabbing two spoons, they’re silver with a moon on the end of the handle.

“Let’s go in your car,” she shook her head then turned to the cashier and smiled radiantly. “Thank you, have a good night.”

“Uh, you too.”

Luke nodded to the cashier then held the door open for Emmy. There was a slight breeze as they walked to his car and slid in. He turned it on so that his playlist could be heard softly in the background.

“Mm,” she hums as she take the first few spoonfuls. “This is my new favorite place. Wow. Okay. So you want to know about Mason?”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he assures spooning his own treat. “That’s his name? Mason?”

“Yep. We broke up two years ago. I didn’t realize how bad of a relationship it was until it was over. He talked to this girl constantly that I never had a good feeling about, he’d make plans without telling me and I’d go along with them. He’d ignore me when we were with his friends. Then he wanted to be on a break because I became too clingy apparently.

“Then he broke up with me over text and the next day he was in a relationship with the girl he was talking to. Then they both harassed me and I was . . . I was in a bad place. I didn’t eat. I wasn’t sleeping. I listened to sad music all the time and I was just . . . not okay. It was hard. I cried constantly and I never interacted with my friends anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Emmy,” Luke says softly. He shifts in his seat to face her properly. “He’s an idiot for letting you go like that. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

“Thank you, and it’s okay,” she shrugs taking another spoonful. “I don’t know how I did it but somehow I pulled myself out of the hole I let myself fall into. Talking to you guys on Facetime really helped, even though I had to fake it most of the time.”

Luke thinks back to the times they’d walk in on Michael speaking with her on the phone. They’d act like complete idiots but Emmy would laugh all the same.

All that time she was heartbroken? And none of them noticed?

“I should’ve—we should’ve noticed you weren’t yourself. I’m sorry, lovie, we could have helped—“

“You did. Just by being your goofy selves and making fun of Mikey made me feel better. You guys made me laugh when I thought I couldn’t.”

She doesn’t comment on the term of endearment that slipped out and he didn’t bring attention to it either. But God, did it feel good to call her that. It felt so natural.

“Honestly, Luke don’t worry about it. I’m better now, I promise.”

“You handle yourself a lot better than I do,” he grimaces swirling his contents in his bowl. “After what happened with Lea, I drank and smoked every day. From whenever I woke up to whenever I went to sleep. That’s why I’m at Ashton’s house a lot, he’s kept me in check.”

“We all handle our hurts differently,” her finger close around his wrist.

Luke tenses slightly at the unexpected touch then relaxes when she rubs circles into his skin.

“But let’s talk about something happier. How’s your fro-yo?”

•••••

“Your sister should have come out earlier,” Ashton tells Michael.

“Like ten months earlier,” Calum agrees drinking from his beer. They’re sat in the living room watching Michael play a video game.

“Honestly, I have no idea what she’s doing but it’s working. Luke seems more like himself than he has in the past year and a half,” Michael says. His thumbs working furiously on the buttons of his controller.

“Do you think they’re just hanging out or doing other . . . things?” Calum asks carefully side eyeing Michael.

Michael pauses the game turning slowly to Calum, his face is expressionless sans the anger in his eyes.

“That’s my little sister, Cal,” he says in a warning voice.

“I know! But she’s not little anymore, and she did have a crush on Luke growing up. They’re both adults spending some time together, y’know, things happen,” he shrugs as if it’s not a big deal.

“Okay, I’ll remember that next time Mali hangs out with Trey,” Michael snaps and Calum’s eyes widen.

“What? Who’s Trey?”

“Guys,” Ashton tries to break up the fight before it happens.

“Just a guy she’s hanging out with, no big deal right? Cause they’re probably sleeping together.”

“That’s my sister!”

“Now you see my point!”

“Guys! Bigger picture, please!” Ashton shouts this time and the other two fall silent. “You should see him at the house whenever Emmy texts or calls him. I swear he’s becoming himself again.”

“What would you do if they are dating?” Calum asks.

“Nothing I could do is there? She’s her own person, he’s my best friend. They can do what they want, but if he breaks her heart I’ll give him hell.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Calum frowns.

“You’re all my best friends,” Michael sighs, “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Are they dating?”

“Where even are they anyway?” Calum asks looking around.

“Luke said they were going mini golfing and to a movie,” Ashton grins.

“They’re definitely dating,” Calum nods.

•••••

The movie they went to see didn’t end until about 1 a.m. they went to a late showing and it was about three hours long. Emmy loved it even though she cried and Luke didn’t hesitate in wiping her tears away from her cheeks.

“Hey, can we go to—“

“Moon Glo?” he smiles looking her way and she squeals in happiness.

“You’re the best,” she claps her hands excitedly and Luke chuckles.

They ordered the same thing as last time and sat talking in his car until Emmy began to yawn. Luke took her empty bowl and threw it out along with his in the garbage on the sidewalk. When he got back she blinked slowly at him.

“Time to take you home, Pip,” he murmurs pulling his seatbelt across himself and starting the car.

“Don’t wanna,” she sighs with a pout.

“You’re sleepy,” he chuckles. “I won’t have you sleep in my car, it’s not that comfortable.”

“Fine,” she sighs.

Emmy does end up falling asleep on the drive back and Luke thinks she looks horribly adorable with her head resting on the middle of the console. Her lips are pursed and her long lashes cast shadows on her round cheeks. He sighs longingly as he pulls into Michael’s driveway and he brushes her hair from her face.

“Hey, we’re home,” he says softly near her ear, “Emmy, wake up.”

She groans but blinks her eyes open slowly.

“Come on, sleepy girl,” he chuckles unlocking her belt. He catches it so it doesn’t strike her face and lets it retract slowly.

She unfurls her legs and Luke scrambles out of the car to open her door. He helps her unlock the front door and she nearly falls taking off her shoes. Which is odd considering she’s wearing flip-flops.

Luke steadies her and asks in a hushed voice, “Which is your room?”

“Up,” she points tiredly.

He smiles leading her to the stairs which could be an issue so he lifts her into his arms and carries her the rest of the way. He figures the room on the left is hers, it shows the skyline of the hills beautifully, and she’s always liked a good view. He lays her down gently on the bed but she clutches his sweatshirt in her fingers.

“Stay,” she demands weakly, her big doe eyes staring at him.

“I’ll be fine, I’m going back to Ash’s place—“

“No. You could hit a raccoon. Come on, just go to sleep,” she sighs shifting in the bed so he has room.

Luke’s heart is pounding in his ears at her request. “You sure?” he breathes.

“Yes. Now get in her Lucas, it’s getting cold.”

He toes off his shoes and removes his socks. Then he tugs his sweatshirt off so he’s in his t-shirt. Normally he sleeps in just his boxers but no way is he going to do that right now. He clears his throat about to climb in when she stops him.

“What are you doing?” she’s sitting up now.

“I’m—you told me to go to sleep,” he stares at her confused.

“Who sleeps in skinny jeans?” she huffs then gets out of bed and picks up an article of clothing. “These are Mike’s basketball shorts. Put those on.”

She chucks them at him and he turns around to peel off his jeans. He sighs at the looser fit of the shorts. When he spins around she’s changed into shorts and a t-shirt of her own. Damn, that’s fast.

“Better?” she asks climbing back into her bed.

“Much. Thank you,” he says then awkwardly gets into bed with her. He makes sure to stay as far from her as he can, he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries. Especially with his best friend’s younger sister.

His chivalry is tossed out the window though because she pulls him to her, his arm falling over her waist and she tickles her fingers up and down his arm.

“Now sleep,” she tells him burrowing further into her pillow.

The sound of her breathing and the light, coaxing touches of her fingers on his skin relaxes him and he closes his eyes. On average he only sleeps maybe four hours every night, so when he will inevitably wake up he’d sneak out before Michael or Crystal realized he was in bed with Emmy.

•••••

When he woke up, sunlight was streaming through the curtains. He shifted and inhaled a flowery smell mixed in with coconut; it was nice and he inhaled more. Soft giggles filled his ears and he opened his eyes to see his head nestled in Emmy’s neck.

“You’re tickling me,” she giggles again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sleepily and he pulls his head back.

She rolls over, a smile already painted on her face. “Morning sunshine.”

“Morning,” he grumbles. His fingers rub circles on her lower back. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“Fuck. Really?”

“Yeah, you slept a long time,” her finger touch the skin below his eyes delicately. “Your eyes don’t look as dark.”

“Yours are, you’ve got mascara everywhere,” he chuckles.

“Great,” she groans. “I look like a raccoon.”

“A cute raccoon,” he grins biting his lip.

She rolls her eyes. “If you say so. I’m hungry. Let’s go get food.”

“How are you this chipper when you just wake up?” he asks rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“I’ve been awake for an hour,” she snickers then rolls out of his arms and onto the floor.

When Luke opens his bleary eyes from behind his hands, he’s transfixed by Emmy before him. Her sleep shorts rose up a bit and he’s staring straight at the bottom of her ass cheeks. He’s oh so tempted to reach out and squeeze, pulling her back into bed and onto his lap.

Woah…what?

“Are you checking me out?”

“No,” he responds too quickly averting his eyes then curses himself. He gets out of bed as well and tousles his hair.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she laughs.

Luke sighs in defeat then follows her downstairs. He hears Michael and Crystal’s voices and he gulps. He readies himself for a punch in the stomach or a clock to his face from Michael. He’s prepared to say they just slept.

“Oh my God. They’re alive!” Michael laughs from the couch, his guitar in hand. Crystal laughs beside him scrolling through her tablet. “Do you guys have a fro-yo hangover?”

“Yes, now we need hangover food. Wanna make us some French toast?” Emmy smiles with her tongue between her teeth, she makes her eyes really big and blinks them super-fast.

Luke would say yes in a heartbeat from her expression alone but Michael doesn’t give in to his sister’s shenanigans as easily.

“Nice try,” he deadpans. “Make them yourself, Pipsqueak.”

She sticks her tongue out then tugs Luke into the kitchen. Luke glances to Michael in alarm as she held his hand but he’s paying them no attention.

“Babe, you should make her breakfast. She’s our guest,” Crystal says.

“She can make her own breakfast!”

“I had to make you breakfast when we were home alone in the summer, Mikey,” Emmy calls gathering the French toast ingredients.

Then there’s a smack from Crystal and they bicker quietly together on the couch. Emmy stares up at Luke triumphantly.

“I love getting him in trouble with her.”

•••••

Their group is going out to Viral, their favorite club and Luke just came downstairs in all black with his shirt unbuttoned and two pairs of necklaces. He took a shower beforehand and he’s feeling fresh and ready to party. He’s really anxious to see Emmy.

“Hey man, ready to go?” Ashton asks with Calum behind him.

“Yeah, are the cabs coming to Michael’s?” Luke asks shoving his wallet in his back pocket.

“They’re gonna meet us there,” Calum says.

“Oh,” Luke chews on his bottom lip deflating a little. He won’t get to walk in with Emmy and see her reaction to the place. “All right.”

He’s silent in the car ride to the club, and does a bemused wave to fans that spot them outside the club before they enter. He heads to the bar as soon as they’re in the VIP section, slams down a shot then orders his usual.

Ashton and Calum are looking at him worriedly when he makes it back to their sitting area, he chooses to ignore them much like the girls who are making eyes at him. He knows who they are since he’s seen them naked before but he ignores them as well. None of them hold his interest anymore.

Except one.

He’s halfway done with his first drink, so he gets up to buy another—he’ll finish this one easily on the way—when he spots Michael and Crystal walking towards him hand in hand. Emmy’s not with them, great, she’s probably on a date—

There she is. Emmy shuffles beside her brother, her eyes landing on Luke straightaway. He smiles instinctually and veers to her direction, her smile alone pulls him. His arms slip around her easily as he embraces her in a tight hug. He squeezes her to him causing her to lift from the ground slightly and she laughs in his ear.

Everyone else around them disappears, his focus is only on her and when he sets her down on her feet he takes in her outfit. She’s wearing a pretty red romper with a black belt and ankle boots. She’s mouthwatering.

“You’re drooling,” she teases rubbing her thumb on his dry bottom lip. He knows he’s not but her touch sets his skin ablaze.

“Can you blame me?” he smiles lazily grabbing her hand. “Want something to drink?”

“A mint mojito,” she beams following him to the bar.

“Classy girl,” he smirks then flags down the bartender.

•••••

“He didn’t even look at us! Does he know we’re here?” Michael exclaims exasperatedly watching Luke and Emmy at the bar. He and Crystal joined the others sitting around the small round glass table.

“Oh leave him be,” Crystal squeezes her boyfriend’s knee. “I think it’s cute. Did you see how his face lit up when he saw her?”

“He was pretty bent up that we were meeting you here,” Calum says.

“I think he wanted to drive with Emmy,” Ashton adds.

“That’s so cute,” Crystal sighs.

“He’s lucky I know him, I wouldn’t want someone else looking at my sister like he is,” Michael sighs.

“Like what?”

“He’s looking at her like she’s the sun,” Crystal grins watching them.

•••••

Luke and Emmy join the rest of the group but make sure to sit close together, Luke’s leg is touching hers and she has her hand resting on his knee as they join in conversation. Luke nurses his second drink, he doesn’t want to be too intoxicated and forget what he and Emmy do together.

She’s taking shots and is on her fourth drink when she and Crystal head to the bathroom. As she passes by Luke, she takes his face in her hand and rubs his cheek affectionately before following Crystal to the bathroom. He watches her go with a permanent smile which quickly fades when he turns to his three best friends. All of their eyebrows are raised and Michael is staring him down.

“Uh, yes?” he asks awkwardly.

“What’s going on between you two?” Ashton giggles.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to get plastered tonight, and I know because I saw the look in your eye, but as soon as Emmy arrived you’ve barely finished your second drink. Which probably is so watered down you can’t even taste the alcohol anymore,” Ashton explains.

“You’ve been by each other’s side the whole time,” Calum adds sipping his cocktail.

Luke doesn’t know what to say but he looks at Michael. His expression is hard to read, what with the flashing lights and the fact that he’s been drinking as well.

“Does my sister make you happy?” Michael asks.

“Of course she does!” Ashton answers for Luke very loudly. “He hasn’t been this happy in so long, and it’s all because of her, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke admits sheepishly. “I’m sorry Mike. I didn’t plan on this happening but she’s just . . . she’s something else.”

•••••

“Tell me Ems, are you and Luke dating?” Crystal asks while they’re leaning against the bathroom sinks.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“He’s spent the night nearly every night since you got here. He’s talking a lot more, he’s smiling a lot more, and you haven’t left his side the whole night.”

“I don’t know what we are, we haven’t talked about it. We haven’t even kissed yet,” Emmy sighs in disappointment.

“I can tell you, the boy is smitten with you,” Crystal winks.

“How can you tell?”

“How can you not? Did you not see the way he smiled at you when we came?” Crystal asks and Emmy blushes in response. “He’s changed a lot since you got here, he seems more like himself ever since Lea . . .”

•••••

Emmy is lost in thought as they exit the bathroom as Crystal drags her to the bar to order a shot. Luke notices them standing by the bar, he doesn’t know why but he feels like he should be over there. Even though they’re in the VIP section, creeps are still everywhere.

He’s only half listening to the guys’ conversation because his attention is on Emmy and the way she’s bouncing on her feet to the beat of the music. The way her eyes close when she laughed at something Crystal said. The way a guy grabbed her waist and pulled her against his chest.

Crystal tries to intervene but is shoved away into another guy and Luke rises immediately. He grabs Michael by the scruff of his shirt who yelps in protest.

“It’s Crystal and Emmy,” Luke hisses quickly and he bound down the stairs like lightning.

“Stop touching me!” he hears Emmy protest.

Upon hearing her voice, Luke yanks the guy off her and she stumbles back into the bar. He shoves the guy as far away from Emmy as he can then motions to security to escort him and his friend out who Michael also shoved away. He watches security take them away until he’s sure they’re gone then he feels small hands touch his arm. He turns around to see Emmy biting her lip, her eyes wide in fear and glistening.

“You’re okay,” he says quickly pressing her against him. She allows herself to be crushed against his strong chest, she already feels safe in his arms. He kisses the top of her head, rubbing her arms and back while Mike tries to console a very drunk and very angry Crystal.

“Want me to take you home?” Luke asks lowly in her ear. She nods and he takes his phone out to text the valet to bring his car around.

He looks to Michael who’s already nodding in understanding that Luke will take his sister home. Luke feels Emmy’s hot breath through his shirt as he continues to soothe her until his phone buzzes.

“Okay, come on lovie,” he says grabbing her hand. “I’ve got you.”

•••••

Emmy’s silent the whole drive to Michael’s. Luke desperately wants to reach out and hold her hand, but the vibe he’s getting from her tells him not to. He doesn’t want to touch her unless she wants him to, but he needs to make sure she’s all right.

Before he has his car in park, she’s already tripping out of the car and up the walkway. Luke sighs then follows after her up to her bedroom but the door is closed. Memories of this being from another time, with a different girl and it made his heart crack at the all too familiar feeling.

No. She’s not Lea. She’s not mad at you.

He raps his knuckles gently on her door, and calls her name softly.

“You can come in,” her muffled voice says from the other side.

He turns the knob, his eyes scanning the room until he finds her pulling out his clothes he’s kept there when he spends the night. She’s already changed into her pajamas, her make up rubbed off hastily. He stands frozen in the doorway, not entirely sure on how to approach her. If he should approach her at all.

Emmy turns then gives him a funny look.

“Get in here and change,” she sighs heavily.

“You sure you want me to stay the night?” he asks taking a hesitant step closer.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You seem mad at me,” he shrugs, “and after what happened at the club I thought you’d want to be alone.”

Her arms drop and she’s peering at him intently. She meets him halfway tossing his shirt and shorts on the bed, still looking up at him. She hears how deep he’s breathing, his eyes never leaving hers but she can see the doubt in the sky blue irises.

“Luke Hemmings, being alone is the last thing I want,” her voice is just shy of a whisper but he can hear the true emotion in it.

He swallows as she moves closer and closer, her fingers tuck his curls behind his ear. He notices how her lips are parted slightly and the way her eyes dart between his lips and his eyes.

“What do you want?” he asks thickly.

“I . . . I want you to kiss me, Luke,” she whispers.

He exhales his breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and attaches his mouth to hers, his arms snaking around her waist to her lower back. Emmy’s hands clutch onto his biceps as he kisses her with so much want and desire. One of her hands find home in his curls and she tugs gently, his tongue swipes her bottom lip then he slips it between her lips.

Luke shifts them lifting her off the ground and he sits down on the bed, Emmy instantly straddling him and their lips stay locked in a heated kiss of teeth and tongue and heavy breathing.

Emmy rises her hips from his lap and Luke slides his hands over the roundness of her ass. She makes quick work of unbuttoning his black silk shirt, pulling the fabric tucked in his jeans and shoves it off his shoulders.

Luke tosses it to his left, or behind him, he’s not sure because he’s focused on the taste of her lips. They’re slightly minty from her mojitos but also sugary from the lemon drop shots she consumed throughout the evening.

Luke kneaded his fingers in the fullness of her ass and she moaned against his mouth, her hips rocking gently against his. His hands travel north over the top part of her romper, his thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts and she nips at his lip and he takes that opportunity to kiss along her jaw. He’s sucking on her skin as he begins to work on her belt but when she sighs he smells the alcohol on her breath and he stops his actions.

He tears his lips away from her jaw and places his hands on the side of her neck. Her eyes are a little bloodshot and filled with excitement, her pretty lips parted.

“What’s wrong?”

“I should stop before I won’t be able to,” he breathes, his eyes darting between hers.

“Oh,” she deflates on top of him and he can see the instant rejection in her eyes.

“No, no, baby, it’s not because I don’t want to,” he tries to recover quickly and holds onto her tighter. “I want to so bad, but not like this.”

She studies him carefully and can hear truth in his voice and knows he’s right. But it still stings.

“Can we kiss until we fall asleep?” she asks softly playing with his necklaces.

“Hey, look at me,” he murmurs ticking her chin up so her dark blue eyes are looking in his. “That’s not even a question.”

She gets off his lap then and they both go to her bathroom to brush their teeth, making eyes at each other in the mirror. Luke watches her fondly as she washes her face free of her make-up and when she’s dried her face he takes her cheeks in his hands kissing her.

They shuffle back to her bed, Emmy crawls in first and Luke hits the light switch before joining her under the covers. In their excitement of kissing some more, her hand smacks his cheek and his presses on her hair.

“Ow!” they yelp then burst into giggles.

“Where are your lips?” she laughs.

“Trying to find yours,” he responds then feels her top lip. “Gotcha.”

They kiss in whispers and he can’t help but notice her lips have a slight taste to coconut, it must be the chapstick she put on after brushing her teeth. Emmy’s fingers thread through his growing curls while Luke’s are strong on her lower back.

“I really like you, Emmy,” he confesses in one breath when they take a break of kissing. Luke’s fingers trail up and down her bare back underneath her shirt.

It feels good to finally say it out loud. The last week and a half he’s spent with her has been the happiest he’s been in so long. She’s repairing the carved out part of his heart that Lea ruthlessly took from him. She didn’t question him or treat him like a ticking time bomb. Emmy’s thumb traces over Luke’s top lip, his heart is racing waiting for her response.

“I really like you, Luke,” she admits giving him a gentle kiss. “And I really like kissing you.”

“I really like kissing you,” a smile spreads on his face before he kisses her with all he’s got.

“And it’s okay?” she gasps out.

“What’s okay?”

“That I like you and you like me even though I’m Mikey’s little sister?”

Luke draws back, his brows furrowed.

“That’s not an issue, Emmy. Michael and I actually talked about . . . us, kind of. He’s okay with it.”

“Really?! Oh, thank God,” she sighs launching herself on top of Luke peppering kisses all over his face. He’s soon laughing beneath her then tickles her sides in retaliation. Emmy shrieks in laughter at his attack until they’re both panting to catch their breath.

•••••

Luke’s standing alone in Roy’s backyard waiting and watching for Emmy. Roy and Calum decided to throw a midsummer beach party and the place was packed. Luke and Ashton showed up together and Emmy spent the day with Michael and Crystal so they’d be coming later.

Ashton left to mingle immediately and Luke scopes out the other partygoers. Some of them he recognizes from his own party days. He nods politely as they greet him but he’d much rather have Emmy by his side. He never wanted to go back to that life he lived for what felt like forever.

He’s scrolling through his phone then smiles again at the text Emmy sent him not too long ago saying she was on her way. Then he hears an all too familiar laugh that sends a cold sweat on the back of his neck.

Luke looks up to see Lea amongst a group of people, her signature high top-bun and white rimmed sunglasses frame her face as she converses. Luke swallows harshly but it only constricts his throat further. His feet are frozen, his heart is racing and there’s a slight ringing in his ears as panic sets in.

His brain is telling him to escape as fast as he can, to find Ashton or to find Emmy who he hopes is here somewhere but the message doesn’t reach his feet. He’s stuck staring at the girl who wrecked him completely, leaving him in the sunken ship she capsized.

Lea slid her sunglasses up her head then spotted Luke who still couldn’t look away. He thinks there’s a word for it, like when you drive by an accident and you can’t look away? His mind is blank as she stares at him, a ghost of her signature smirk appears before she starts walking his way.

He’s frozen in his spot, the ringing in his ears is louder and higher pitched and all he can do is watch the tornado of a woman create her warpath in his direction.

“Hey! There you are.”

Emmy’s voice breaks through Luke’s panic, and the gentle touch of her hands on his back as she hugs him causes him to tear his eyes away from the storm and onto the light that is Emmy. He exhales in relief when he looks into her eyes and she sees the familiar darkness.

“What’s the matter?”

“Hi Lukey-boo,” Lea greets in a sickly sweet voice, it makes his stomach turn. “Babysitting I see?”

Emmy twists around to look at Lea and Luke closes his eyes, he just wanted to keep looking in her eyes.

“You must be Lea,” Emmy greets brightly. She takes Luke’s hand in her own and squeezes it tightly. “I’ve heard so many things about you.”

“Oh thank you,” Lea smiles smugly, twisting her hair with her fingers.

“I didn’t say they were good things,” Emmy responds icily then turns to Luke. “Come on Luke, Mikey’s looking for you.”

Emmy drags Luke away as quick as she can inside the house, he’s shaking slightly and as soon as they’re inside he slips his hand from hers. He finds the nearest wall then starts smacking it as hard as he can, his teeth clenched.

“Hey, hey, Luke. Luke!” Ashton is suddenly behind him, between him and Emmy, with his hands on Luke’s shoulders. He pulls him away from the wall. “What’s going on?”

“Lea was outside,” Emmy explains quietly watching the scene in front of her.

“Shit,” Ashton mutters then pulls Luke with him upstairs.

Emmy smiles apologetically at the people in the kitchen then scampers after Ashton and Luke. When she looked into Luke’s eyes, he was the ghost of himself she’s never seen before. It terrified her, not for her safety, but only concern for Luke. She finds Ashton and Luke in Calum’s room, it’s far away from downstairs and faces the street instead of the backyard.

“You good? We can leave if you want or I’ll make Roy kick her out,” Ashton says.

“Did Calum know she was going to be here?”

“No, he wouldn’t do that, Luke. She must have overheard about the party or something and came here on purpose to mess with you,” Ashton squeezes Luke’s shoulders. His hands are keeping Luke’s head above the waters. “What do you need?”

“Where’s Emmy?”

“Ash…” Emmy says quietly stepping forward.

“She’s right here,” Ashton steps aside, releasing his hold on Luke.

Luke’s ice blue eyes slide to her and he visibly relaxes, his face softening and shoulders falling.

“You good?” Ashton asks, Luke nods stiffly. “I’ll be downstairs. Text me if you need me.”

Ashton pats him on the back then gives Emmy a small smile before exiting the room. He closes the door softly behind him and Luke falls onto the bed with a big sigh. His elbows rest on his knees and he hangs his head. Emmy joins him and places her hand on his neck.

“Hey,” she scratches the back of his neck with her nails. Luke breathes deeply and sits up straight turning to Emmy.

“Hey,” he croaks. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I wasn’t expecting Lea to be here and it’s—it’s been so long I thought I’d be okay and—“

“Luke, it’s okay. You don���t have to explain it to me, okay?” she strokes his cheek with the back of her fingers. “What happened?”

“I couldn’t…” he shakes his head. “I couldn’t move. I saw her and it’s like I was paralyzed. I’m so glad that you showed up when you did, lovie.”

Emmy kisses his forehead, his eyebrow, his cheek and then finally his lips. Her thumbs stroke his cheeks as she looks into his eyes.

“I am too. Do you want to stay or do you want to go somewhere else?”

“I didn’t really want to be here in the first place,” he sighs kissing the inside of her wrist.

“Then let’s go,” she smiles.

He follows her downstairs where Ashton is waiting for them, he perks up at the sight of them.

“What’s goin’ on?” Ashton asks looking between Emmy and Luke.

“We’re blowing this popsicle stand,” Emmy giggles. “Can you tell Mikey we left?”

“Yeah, no problem,” he watches them brisk by then he calls out, “where are you going?”

“An adventure!” Emmy shouts causing Luke to laugh and then they’re gone.

Luke is cruising down the 405 with the windows down and Emmy is singing along to the radio. Every time Luke looks over at her it’s easier for him to breathe and they arrive at the beach just as the sky turns a pretty golden orange.

“Take off your shoes,” Emmy orders already working on her black boots.

Luke toes off his own boots placing his socks inside then setting them down inside the car. He takes her hand leading the way into the hot but soft sand. The warm ocean breeze ruffles his hair and he inhales the salty air.

Their toes touch the water’s edge, Emmy squeals a little at the coolness of it but soon she’s kicking the water up.

“Hey!” he chuckles shielding his face.

“It’s just water,” she teases kicking a spray of it in his direction. Some of the spray hits his cheek.

“Do that again, I dare you,” he threatens but his voice doesn’t ring true of the threat. Emmy does it again. “That’s it, you’re in trouble now.”

“Ahh!” She screams and tries to run from him but his legs are longer and he snatches her up quickly.

He throws her over his shoulder, she’s squealing in laughter as he spins her around making sure to kick up some water.

“Luke!” she laughs patting his back and his butt in an attempt to get him to let her down.

“Say you’re sorry!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Satisfied, he sets her down gently. They both take a deep breath and then Emmy squats down to splash a huge amount of water on his stomach and legs. She’s laughing so hard she falls into the water on her butt, she gasps in surprise.

“Karma baby,” Luke chuckles.

Emmy groans and stands up. Her jean shorts are a shade darker and her top clings to her skin, the ends of her hair is wet and Luke can tell she’s grumpy about the turn of events. She scowls at him which he thinks is the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen before she leaps up in his arms. He’s taken aback and staggers backwards, the waves push against his balance and then they’re both in the water but Luke makes sure his hold is secure on Emmy.

“OOF!” he grunts at the impact and the wetness he now feels.

“I made my own karma,” Emmy snickers.

Luke squeezes her waist and stares into her eyes, thankful that karma has brought her back into his life. He wants to tell her his thoughts, but his mouth can’t form the words so he crushes his lips to hers in hopes she’ll understand what he can’t say.

They splash around in the water for a bit longer then sit in the sand until the sun starts to set and their clothes are somewhat dry. They decide to head back to Michael’s house. Emmy’s hand is rising and falling out the window as she sings along to Jaden Smith’s PCH blasting through the speakers.

“Gimme all your kisses baby cause this is bliss, gimme all your kisses baby…” she sings tilting her head from side to side in time with the beat of the song and Luke’s never felt so much fondness for a person before.

The house is quiet when Luke and Emmy arrive, Michael’s car is still gone so they must still be at the party. Luke pulls Emmy against him as soon as the door shuts, his lips on hers. Emmy sighs into the kiss linking her arms around his neck.

“Gimme all your kisses baby,” Luke mumbles and she nods enthusiastically.

He lifts her into his arms, her legs wrap around his waist and he heads upstairs to her bedroom. He sits down on her bed tugging her shirt up and off her head and Emmy removes her bra swiftly before tugging at his t-shirt.

Luke’s hands are hot on her skin as his tongue explores her mouth once more. She smells like the beach and her lips are sun kissed with a hint of saltiness from the ocean water. Emmy moans quietly and it causes Luke’s dick twitch in response.

He pulls away and looks at her, her eyes are alert, lips are red and swollen and she’s smiling. Luke drops his gaze to her bare torso and he lets out a huff at the sight of her chest rising and falling heavily. He presses his lips between her breasts, sponging kisses along the mound until he finds her nipple which he tugs between his teeth. His tongue flicks against it and she sighs in his arms at the sensation.

He shifts to the other breast doing the same thing but sucks hard on the skin, it makes an obscene noise and she whimpers. When he releases her breast he sees his teeth marks surrounding her nipple and his pants tighten at the sight. He looks up at her.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he pants then flips her over so she’s on her back. Her legs rise up on the bed but she stops him before he climbs on top of her.

“Wait, wait,” she holds onto his chest with her palm. “Get the door.”

He smiles and obeys shutting it and locks it for good measure even though he’s positive Michael and Crystal won’t be back for hours. When he turns around he sees she’s just in her black panties and he groans.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he sighs then kneels in front of her. Luke pulls her closer to him, an excited squeal escaping her lips at the movement and he pulls her panties to the side staring at her bare center. His mouth waters at the sight. “So pretty,” he whispers then runs his finger up her slit, his eyes move to hers.

She’s watching him intently, a fire in her eyes that he’s sure matches his. He teases her more by playing with her folds and kisses her inner thighs.

“Luke,” she whines his name and fuck, does he love the sound, “please.”

That plea is all he needs to hear and he attaches his mouth to her warm wet center, she tastes even better than he’s imagined. She whimpers above him, letting her legs fall open wider for him and he swipes his tongue up and down, in circular motions and flicks at her clit which makes her go wild.

She’s moaning so loud he swears he’s never heard a more beautiful sound, he wants to hear her make those noises forever. Emmy bucks her hips in time with his ministrations.

“You close, lovie?” he rasps looking up at her. She arches her back and moans out a ‘yes.’ “Come on my mouth, baby.”

He devours her, keeping his mouth on her and moving his face roughly from side to side as she moans relentlessly. He searches for her hand that is clutching the sheet in a death grip and drags it to his hair. She yanks and pulls with each spasm of her orgasm washing over her but Luke doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking and licking until her movements slow and she lets out a deeply satisfied sigh.

Luke licks his lips then slips her panties off her waist and down her legs. He stuffs it in his back pocket, kissing both sides of her thighs as she comes down from her orgasm. His gaze is locked on her, watching her facial expressions and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits trailing his fingers up and down her leg before hooking it over his shoulder.

“You’re really good at it,” she puffs out and he chuckles.

He lifts her other leg over his shoulder and looks up at her darkly. “Want me to go again, lovie?”

He doesn’t give her time to answer before he slips his middle finger inside curling it as he does. Her mouth opens in a perfect little ‘o’ and she yanks harshly at the root of his curls. She rocks her hips against his finger, a chorus of moans fill the room as he pumps into her faster, harder, and it’s not long until she’s coming beneath him again.

When he removes his finger, he traces a line from her slit, past her bellybutton and around the curves of her breast. Then he scoots back down in between her legs, she whimpers already knowing what he’s planning to do.

“Got one more for me, baby?” he rasps situating himself at her core. Again, he doesn’t give her a chance to answer before he’s diving in, darting his tongue in and out at an antagonizing pace.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she squeals pulling on his hair. Her body shakes. Her legs are trembling.

When he adds his finger again she lets out an animalistic growl that only urges Luke to continue pleasuring her, loving the yank of his hair by her fingers. He hums against her, the vibrations adding even more to her pleasure and her body spasms before clenching as she lets out a scream.

Luke feels her come all over his finger and his mouth, his eyes on her the entire time as her whole body lifted from the bed, as if she were ascending into an astral plane of pure ecstasy. When her body drops back down, her legs going lax, is when he decides to stop. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and swipes his finger on his jeans, he doesn’t care that they’re black and it’ll stain.

Luke crawls over her once more, Evie somehow finds the strength to press her palm against his chest. He notices the space between her cleavage is sheened with sweat.

“Please, no more,” she whispers. Her eyes are hooded as she stares up at him.

“No more,” he shakes his head then rests his forehead on hers. “You did so well, baby. I love hearing your moans.” She yawns then and he rolls off the bed to retrieve some new underwear and her pajamas.

He helps her change into them, her legs are wobbling as she does and they head into the bathroom to wash up. Luke holds onto her hip while they brush their teeth and while she washes her face. He tucks her into bed before he pulls off his jeans and places his t-shirt over his head and climbs in behind her. He chuckles to himself when he realizes how she’s lying, her legs are completely spread, and she’s on her stomach with her arms splayed over the pillow.

She looks like a cute little starfish.

He settles in behind her and rubs her back helping her relax, he knows she loves that. Then he kisses her neck and whispers, ‘goodnight, pretty girl.’

•••••

When Emmy woke up the next morning, memories of last night flooded into her mind. Butterflies appeared in her tummy as she woke up a bit more, blinking her eyes open slowly. She rolls over to see Luke already awake and staring at the ceiling, his arms locked behind his head.

“Good morning,” Emmy greets, her voice is strained as she stretches her limbs.

“Morning,” he smiles wistfully at her then continues staring at the ceiling.

Emmy’s eyebrows pull together and she scoots herself on his chest. She pulls on his chin until his pretty blue eyes meet hers.

“What’s on your mind?” she asks.

Luke brings his left arm down from behind his head to settle it on her waist. His fingers slip beneath her shirt to tickle her back and goosebumps rise at his feather light touch on her skin.

“I think I want to go back home.”

“To Aus?”

“N-no . . . my house. Here. In LA,” his Adam’s apple works in his throat.

“Oh,” Emmy squeaks then clears her throat. “Okay. When? Today?”

“Maybe. Yeah. . . I think so. I don’t know,” he closes his eyes breathing deeply through his nose.

“I’ll go with you,” she offers, “unless you want to go alone.”

“No, I want you to come with me, lovie. It’ll help having you there.”

“Okay,” she touches his cheek and his eyes open. She smiles softly. “Hi.”

“Hi pretty girl,” he lifts his head stretching forward to give her a soft kiss.

“Can I try something?” she asks resting her hand on his lower stomach.

“Like what?” He gives her a quizzical look.

“Liiiike what you did for me last night. . .” she slides her hand lower under the sheet and onto his boxers. She rubs her palm over his dick gently and Luke inhales sharply. “. . . but I want to do it for you.”

“You don’t have to Ems,” he licks his lips as she continues to palm him.

He’s getting harder in her hand and he blinks slowly at her soft tugging.

“I want to,” she breathes leaning up to kiss him and she slips her hand underneath his boxers. He’s warm and soft in her hand as she strokes him lazily.

Luke inhales sharply again, his hand squeezes her waist.

“Can I?” she kisses his neck then slides down the length of his body.

“Mhm,” he hums lifting his hips so she can pull his boxers down.

Emmy kisses his tummy softly and continues to give open mouthed kisses on his skin until she kisses the tip of his dick. She continues to mouth him, opening her mouth to let her tongue swirl around his tip.

“Baby,” he sighs and Emmy takes more of him in her mouth.

“Quiet,” she whispers jerking her head to the door behind her. Michael and Crystal are asleep down the hall and she did not want to wake them up like this.

Luke nods and Emmy hollows out her cheeks to take him in her mouth as far as she can go, salivating on him so she can pump him with her hand. Luke’s grunting and groaning softly, watching her every move. He loves the way her head bobs up and down slowly and the way she swirls her tongue up and down his shaft.

He jerks his hips gently with her movements, his fingers comb through her hair and she moves faster. Luke’s panting heavily until he feels his release coming, with a low grunt and no warning, he’s coming in her mouth.

“Babe, babe, Ems,” he gasps trying to get her mouth off him but she swallows all he’s giving her.

Luke throws his head back on the pillows, heart racing, and his body spent. It’s been so long since he’s gotten head, he’s a little embarrassed it didn’t take him long to orgasm to but to have Emmy doing it for him was amazing.

Emmy wipes the corner of her mouth, wincing a little but gives Luke a smile nonetheless.

“Sorry, that’s . . . it’s been a while,” he sighs blinking slowly.

“Did you like it?” her eyes big.

“Yes, baby, I loved it,” he gives her a glazed smile. “C’mere.”

His fingers are in her hair again and they kiss lazily until Michael is banging on the door complaining about how he’s hungry and they’re all going out for breakfast.

•••••

Emmy joins Luke at the front door of his house, he’s twirling his keys between his fingers. She grabs hold of his bicep and Luke gives a small grin that looks more like a grimace then inserts the key. He takes Emmy’s hand in his and leads her inside.

Emmy looks around the space, it’s very modern with a lot of sharp edged furniture. Everything is in its own place and very black and white. It’s the furthest thing from Luke and Emmy didn’t like it at all.

“Well, this is it,” he gestures, “What do you think?”

“It’s very. . .” Emmy scans the empty kitchen and bare walls. “Clean.”

Luke snorts walking her down the hall. “It’s very Lea. She chose everything.”

Emmy frowns at that and peeks in the rooms before they stop in a bedroom she assumes is his room. It’s also very modern and monochromatic. The only splash of color is from a potted plant in the corner that is surely fake, no wonder Lea chose it.

Emmy moves to the window to see a nice view of of the hills and a small pool that’s in serious need of some care. When she turns around, Luke is sitting on the bed watching her with a thoughtful expression.

“What’s running through your mind, honey bun?” she asks threading her fingers through his curls.

He smiles at the nickname and grabs hold of her thigh, his thumb rubs circles on her exposed skin below her shorts.

“I want to get rid of everything. Repaint the walls, get new furniture and a new bed,” he grins deviously up at her and pulls her closer.

“I think that’s a marvelous idea,” she smiles.

“Do you want to help me?”

“Really? I don’t want to intrude—“

“You won’t,” he shakes his head, “I want your opinion since . . .”

“Since what?”

“Since I want you to visit and I want you to visit a lot and I want you to like it too.”

Emmy melts into his arms, hugging him tightly. His arms are wrapped around her and he pulls her onto his lap.

“Is that okay?” he asks in her ear.

“It’s more than okay. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, Luke,” she kisses his shoulder.

“You’re the sweetest thing.”

•••••

Luke and Emmy got to work right away on remodeling his house. He donated all of his furniture and hired a cleaning crew for the whole house, and the pool before the painters come.

While the painters were doing their job, Luke and Emmy went furniture shopping. He was a little apprehensive at first, but only because flashbacks of when he and Lea did the same thing she chose everything while Luke followed along silently.

But with Emmy, she made everything fun and lighthearted. She tested each couch cushion, pulling him down with her. It’s like she was goldilocks and Luke felt like he was anything but the big bad wolf like how Lea made him feel.

He decided on a blue couch with gray armchairs for the living room and he chose a king sized bed and a dark red armchair for his bedroom. It would all be delivered by next week which would be crunch time because in two weeks they’d be leaving for Bali.

As they were leaving the furniture store to go decoration shopping, Luke noticed some familiar photographers hanging around across the street. He remembers how Emmy nearly fell the last time she was around the paps and he took hold of her hand.

Was that already two months ago?

Luke keeps glancing at her once he’s driving to the next store and he can’t believe the timeline of him and Emmy.

Growing up, she was always Mikey’s younger sister who wanted to play video games and hang out with them all the time. When their music career began, they lost touch and sight of each other but he thought about her often.

“What’re you thinking so hard about over there?” Emmy pulls him out of his reverie just as they climb out of the car.

“You,” he answers simply holding out his hand for her to take. He doesn’t miss the blush on her cheeks and Luke loves it.

“Oh,” she giggles softly.

The decorating was his favorite thing to shop for because Emmy got so animated about everything she saw. She’d say where it would look best in his house and how it would pair nicely with something else she found in another aisle. Being with Emmy was as easy as breathing and blinking. He didn’t have to think about it, it just . . . felt so right.

Emmy is pointing out bookends that are guitars and Luke steps forward and places his finger under her chin so he can kiss her softly. His lips move against hers slowly, wanting to show her how delicate she is and deserves to be treated with such care.

“What was that for?” she exhales smiling up at him.

“I’m happy you’re here with me, Pip.” Luke’s fingers brush her hair back over her shoulder.

“You haven’t called me that since I got here,” she giggles.

“I know, you’re still my Pipsqueak. I think I’ve got all we need, ready to go back to your brother’s?”

She nods slowly taking his hand and they exit the store. As soon as they step into the hot LA sun, their names are being shouted left and right while a multitude of shutter speeds click a mile a minute. Emmy immediately coils into Luke’s side and he shifts his arm around her shoulders guiding her to the car.

“Is it true you and Lea are talking things through?”

“How does Michael feel about you with his sister?”

“What’s it like dating Luke?”

“Are you moving in together?”

“Do you still love Lea?”

The questions were fired from left and right and each time Lea was mentioned Luke tensed up and it only made him approach the car that much faster. Luke shields Emmy’s body with his own so she could get into the car safely and Luke hurried to his side.

Thankfully, the photographers backed away so Luke could peel out of the parking lot. His hands were shaking against the wheel, he flinches when Emmy grabs hold of his fingers with her own. He lets her place his hand in her lap where she caressed his fingers in a soothing way.

He calmed down immediately.

•••••

A week has gone by and Luke’s house is finally complete. He invites Emmy over first so they can be alone before he shows the others. They did this together and he wanted to revel in their job well done.

“Luke, it’s so amazing!” she gushes eyeing the piano he selected.

The space seems more like Luke, it’s open and warm and full of color.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he smiles leaning against his kitchen counter. He watches her peer at the guitar bookends on his shelf on either side of his TV. Her smile is radiant as she approaches him, his arms hold onto her waist loosely.

“Does it feel like home?”

His eyes search hers before he leans down pressing his lips to hers, he pulls her tighter against him. One hand travels to her neck and her hands hold onto the sides of his waist. The kiss becomes needy quickly and filled with so much desire Emmy gasps for breath but Luke moves his lips to her neck.

Emmy sighs, her fingers play with the ends of his curls that are getting longer before she starts to work on his buttons and his hands slide under her shirt. They remove the articles of clothing onto the floor, Luke’s fingers slip under the straps of her bra gliding them down her shoulders.

Luke pulls his mouth away from hers to look at her, her eyes are shining and her chest is rising heavily as she tries to catch her breath. To his surprise, she unfastens her bra and lets it fall to the floor between them. Emmy lifts her arms around his neck connecting their lips once more and Luke hoists her legs around his waist.

Lips still molding together, he peeks through his lids as he makes his way to his bedroom and places her on his bed gently. He moves to his knees on the floor as he pulls her shorts and underwear off, his mouth hot on her skin as he did so. He kisses up her leg, tongue delving between her pussy lips slowly.

Emmy sighs above him and he hums against her before removing his own clothes. Her hands reach for him as he reaches for her and then he’s hovering above her. Their eyes meet and they have a silent conversation as she settles herself beneath him and takes hold of him.

He kisses her as he pushes into her carefully. Moaning and sighing with bodies rolling like waves, they find the perfect rhythm easily. Their fingers slot together next to her head and their kisses become sloppy as their movements quicken.

They breathe each other in and when she clenches around him, Luke moans her name in her ear as she fills his with the chorus of her moans. As she comes notes and lyrics fill his head and he moves faster, grunting with each pull and thrust until he’s coming as well.

When he’s finished, he lifts his head to see she’s already staring at him, soft expression on her face and their fingers unlock. Soft pecks to her lips and all over her face makes her laugh and he caresses her cheek.

“You feel like home,” he tells her. She bites her lip then cuddles into his chest, kissing every inch of him she can.

•••••

Bali has been nothing but exceptional for Emmy and she loved having Luke show her around to his favorite spots. During the day they’d do activities like zip lining, visit the Uluwatu Temple and the monkey temple where they each got photos of a little monkey on their shoulders.

Each night they’d have dinner with Michael and everybody else then enjoy a large bonfire on the beach where Luke held Emmy between his legs in the sand. Michael kept a careful eye on them both, more so than when they were back home in LA. He picked up on different things here than back at home.

Like how whenever Luke would look at his sister, he’d have an instant smile on his face and when Emmy would be talking Luke listened very carefully. He always walked with her on the inside of the roads and when they’d join together again if they got split up from sight-seeing, he’d kiss her cheek.

Michael took notice of his sister’s actions as well. While they were looking at the trinket shops, her eyes would be on the token in her hand while her other reached for Luke who would be by her side instantly and she hadn’t even said his name. He noticed the way her face brightened when Luke would greet her with a kiss or simply look at her.

It made Michael happy that his best friend and his sister were so happy together. Especially for Luke, he didn’t seem so broken anymore. It also made Michael realize how grown up his sister is now. She’s no longer the little sister who followed them around wanting to play games and listen to their music.

“You’re quiet, that means you’re thinking something,” Crystal says sitting next to him on the couch out by the pool.

Michael’s eyes are focused on Luke and Emmy across the way in the pool. His sister has her legs in the water while Luke’s arms are resting on her thighs and they’re just talking to each other. Emmy dips her hand in the water then slicks back Luke’s curls, she smiles at something he says.

“I think they’re in love,” Michael finally speaks up, his fingers twiddling together.

“I think so too,” Crystal smiles placing her hand over his just as Emmy squealed in laughter as Luke pulled her into the water with him.

Later that night, before everyone disappeared for bed, Michael pulls Luke aside.

“What’s up?” Luke asks.

Michael gazes at one of his best friends for a moment, Luke’s skin color is tanner from the holiday sun, the dark circles under his eyes are gone completely and his eyes don’t have that hard edge to them anymore. He’s a completely different person from when he was with Lea and he had his little sister to thank.

“Um, I know we sort of talked about this at the club but . . . you’re serious about Ems, aren’t you?” Michael flat out asks.

Luke softens at her name and he nods, his fingers run through his unruly curls. Michael’s noticed he’s let his hair grow out, he seems freer.

“Yeah, I am,” Luke breathes, “she’s really special and important to me, Mike.”

“I can tell,” Michael smiles. “I wanted to tell you how happy I am for the both of you and I’m glad you have each other. It’s great seeing you as yourself again, man.”

“It feels good to be myself again, I have her to thank for it. But, uh, thanks for telling me. I still think you’re going to try and beat me up,” Luke chuckles.

“I have thought about it only because of my natural protective brother instincts,” Michael laughs along, “but you’re not a tiny breadstick anymore.”

They bump fists and then hug each other tightly before splitting off in the direction of their rooms.

When Luke finds Emmy she’s just getting out of the bathroom, her hair wet and she smiles at him when she walks by.

“Couldn’t wait to shower with me?” he teases following her to the bed. She sits cross legged in the center of it.

“It was a quick one just to get the sand off. What did my brother want?”

Luke sits next to her and takes her hands in his that are resting in her lap.

“He told me he’s happy we have each other.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Luke’s eyes flicker to hers. “Which is great because there’s something I’ve been wanting to show you. . .”

He pulls out his phone and opens up his voice notes app. Emmy watches him scroll down a few until he presses play and sets his phone on her bare knee.

His singing voice croons through the speaker and the sound of the ocean waves makes it even more special as he sings:

You came and topped them all You shine in the dead of the night And I was the first to fall

Fading away, fading away Wake up to someone with nothing to say I never change, though I'd never change Then you come and change it all

With your love, your love, I'm a better, better man With your love, your love, I'm a better, better man Darling, all of my wrongs, they lead me right to you Wrapped in your arms, I swear I'd….

  When the recording stopped, Emmy stares at Luke with wide eyes as she lets the piano and the lyrics resonate in her mind. He scoots closer to her then brushes his fingers on her cheek, his eyes focused on hers.

“I love you, Emmy,” he breathes without missing a beat.

His voice is soft as petals falling to the floor and Emmy’s heart catapults in her chest. Her lips widen in a smile and she lifts herself onto her knees to give him a big kiss. Luke’s hands hold onto her lower back as he kisses her back then they fall onto the bed together.

“I love you, too Luke,” she says on his lips.

They roll over together, lips and fingers interlocked anchoring each other. Luke’s no longer a castaway adrift at sea from a broken relationship void of love. Now he’s with Emmy, his shining lighthouse who makes him the better man he was always meant to be.

• • • •

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @wokeupinjapanisabop @myloverboyash  @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce 

#luke fic #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings angst #luke hemmings smut #luke fluff #luke angst #luke smut #luke x oc #luke hemmings x oc #luke 5sos #5sos writing #calum 5sos #michael 5sos #ashton 5sos

[puckluck28]

5, 18, 28 & 40, 41 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Thank you @thetwit for the prompts! 

This ones’s written with 5. Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips. & 28. One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

I will work on 18, 40 & 41 in the upcoming weeks!

Hope y’all enjoy!

19 Days

It was almost 10pm when Hailey finally looked away from the latest report she was working on for a much needed break from her monitor and rubbed her eyes, hoping when she opened them, she’d find herself looking into her partner, and fiancé, green eyes. Unfortunately, however, her wishful thinking proved unavailing, and she sighed in disappointment when she opened her exhausted eyes to find the desk across from her empty; the stacks of paper unusually organized, a thin layer of dust covering the single pen resting on Jay’s keyboard, the one he hid from Hailey so he didn’t run out of pens when she ultimately stole all the pens in his pencil holder by the end of each. So with another heavy sigh, she pushed away from her desk and walked to the break room to grab another cup of coffee, she didn’t even know how many cups she’d already had.

On a regular week, it wasn't uncommon for Hailey to show up at the bullpen when no one was around to finish her paperwork. Whether it was a couple hours before or after shift, or a rare day off, she preferred staying on top of her paperwork with each case, unlike her colleagues who waited to be chased around by Platt to actually start on theirs. Adam thought she was crazy for willingly spending more time at the bullpen. Kim wished she had Hailey’s level of organization so she didn’t have to take most of her paperwork home with her. And while Kevin didn’t comment on her habits, he wasn’t a stranger to using his free time catching up with his paperwork, the only difference: he preferred the comfort of his home to the bullpen. Hailey, on the other hand, found a sense of serenity in the silence of her usually hectic workplace, especially the past couple weeks, nineteen days to be specific. 

It had been almost three weeks since Jay had been temporarily snatched by narcotics for an undercover operation when intelligence’s operation had accidentally crossed paths with their colleagues’. Overnight, without even being given an option, or time for goodbyes, he was further pushed into the operation and all his contact with intelligence was severed.  

Hailey understood that it was one of those things that just came with the job. Narcotics needed Jay, and there was nothing anyone could have done about it, but it didn’t mean Hailey had to like it any different. She hated not having her partner across from her, catching her eye every time she looked up from her paperwork. She hated not sitting in the comfort of his truck, whether they were driving to a suspect’s house or a bust or home after work. And most of it all, she hated how lonely their home seemed, how cold and empty their bed felt. Sure, it was a temporary situation, but with no end date, temporary felt a minute too long to be bearable, so instead of torturing herself with the silence of their home, she spent most of her free time in the silence of the bullpen. At least there, she had work to do instead of rewatching the same episode of the Office for a hundredth time, hoping Jay was by her side to make the same comment he made every time.

The rest of the unit had realized their blonde colleague’s change of habits, too. At first they’d given it to their increased workload since they were a man down, but when Hailey had declined invites to Molly’s to stay at work for one too many an evening, they’d all known there was more to it than the workload. The days that followed, Hailey realized her colleagues showing up to work a little earlier, leaving a little later, and making sure they had enough coffee and snacks at the break room at all times. She knew this was their way of being there for her, no member of the unit was one to talk about their feelings, and she was forever grateful to have found her place in Voight’s unit and not only gained amazing colleagues but a family.  

Pouring herself the last of the coffee left in the pot, Hailey decided it was time to call it a night when she was done with this one, knowing she wouldn’t go home at all if she put on a new pot. It wasn’t that she actually wanted to go home, but the break room couch was really not that comfortable and she desperately needed her warm shower if she was going to pretend to feel ready for the next day.  

Needing a minute longer away from her computer, Hailey rested her back against the kitchen sink and tried to enjoy the warm radiating from the mug in her hands as she traced the familiar letters on it. Ever since Jay’d been gone, she’d started using his coffee mug that read “The World’s Best Detective.” It had been a gag gift she’d gotten him a couple years ago for Christmas after they’d binged all of the Office together that fall when they’d taken turns nurturing each other back to health during that year’s flu season. Oh, how she missed having him by her side, even at the cost of the horrors that came with having the flu.

Hailey was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized the footsteps approaching the break room. “You know…” Her head immediately turned at the source of the familiar voice, and she almost dropped the mug in her hands had her fingers not been hooked on its handle when her eyes landed on the source. “I was really hoping to come home to find my beautiful fiancé in bed after not seeing her for so long. So imagine my disappointment when I get home to find the place all cold and dark.”  

“Jay?” Her voice cracked as she whispered his name and turned around.

‘Hey, Hails. Miss me?” He asked with his trademark smirk, and tears filled her eyes as she stared at him from across the room, trying to process what was happening, trying to convince herself that he was really there and this wasn’t a caffeine induced hallucination. 

“What are-? How?” She struggled to find the right words to speak, so instead, she did the only thing she could think of: Tossing the mug to the side, she quickly closed the short space between them and threw herself into Jay’s arms. Her arms circled around his neck in an attempt to somehow ground herself as she hugged him close, needing to feel his body against her, the reassurance that he was really there, before rising on her tiptoes and crashing her lips against his. There was so much packed into their kiss: surprise, despair, longing, relief… As their hands wandered and their lips moved against one another’s in urgency, they felt as if they needed the kiss more than they needed air until reality caught up with them and they involuntarily pulled away from another, gasping for air. 

“You’re really here?” Hailey whispered, trying to catch her breath.

“Narcotics finally wrapped up their operation and I came back as soon as they cuffed the last of the guys.” Jay responded, holding her tight against his body, needing her touch as much as she needed his. “I couldn’t spend another minute away.”

“God, Jay…” She was at a loss for words, her eyes traveling all over his body to get a good look at how the past three weeks had treated him. He was still in his undercover outfit: ragged jeans, a black shirt and an all leather jacket that reeked of cigarette smoke.  

Slowly reaching up towards his face, her fingers gently trailed the few cuts and bruises along his neck and jaw until she reached the fresh cut on his lips. Jay’s eyes closed at her familiar touch, the one he’d longed for every night every time he closed his eyes for the past nineteen days. God, it felt so nice to be back, to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to… Hailey’s fingers trailed down against his sharp jawline and guided his chin towards her face for another much needed kiss. This kiss was different from the first one. It was softer, gentler, more tender, and the desperate urgency was replaced by sweet savor. 

“I’m really here, Hails.” Jay whispered against her lips when they parted enough to rest their heads against one another’s, their lips only inches away. “I’m back, I’m okay and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” He knew she’d been worried and she needed to hear him say the words. 

“I missed you, so damn much.” Hailey confessed, tightening her grip on him even more, as if it was possible for them to hold each other tighter or closer.

“Me too, baby. So much that I don’t think words would do it justice.” He leaned in for another kiss, their kisses becoming increasingly more passionate. “Now why don’t we go home so I can show you just as much.” He spoke in between kisses with a mischievous smile, receiving an equally lustful look from Hailey. 

“Just take me home, Halstead.” Hailey whispered into his ear, and he didn’t have to be told twice before he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the district and into his truck, the mug of coffee and everything else forgotten. They were finally together again, and they deserved this one night before they had to face reality again.

Hopefully more will come in the next weeks ☺️

[loruleanheart]

Desired Fate, Chapter 2

Read on ff.net

Read on AO3

Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, moved about her bedchambers. It was a vast room with grey stonework walls and old furniture that had been in the royal family for generations. One corner held a grand writing desk where she often carried out her research into ancient relics late into the night. Affixed to the wall above were her most treasured research notes.

The princess was dressed for bed, her thick golden hair in a protective side braid, but she wasn’t feeling too tired, her nerves shot by the day’s earlier events. It was the first moment of rest she’d had all day. She had been constantly in the presence of Impa and the knight her father had assigned as her guard. The knight, who she’d learned was named Link, was odd. He barely spoke a word, yet Zelda couldn't disregard that he had saved her that day when a large Guardian that had been unearthed at the Breach of Demise had activated somehow without warning. This, along with the increasing number of monsters throughout the kingdom made their trip to the Royal Tech Lab an arduous one.

Zelda turned over many thoughts in her mind. How the little Guardian that seemed so attached to her had traveled from a Hyrule of ruin. Her father had seemed so vexed by the Guardian’s appearance, although Zelda was not surprised that he would try to discern whether the Guardian could be trusted. The little one did feel somehow familiar in a vague way…. Not to mention, it brought with it a look into the future of the destruction the Calamity would bring. 

A heaviness was descending upon the princess. Impa’s sister, Purah had managed to extract visual data from the little Guardian’s memory - true to life images that showed what the future would hold. Zelda had taken a cursory look through a few images but had quickly become overwhelmed. This was the destruction that would befall Hyrule should she not be able to harness her divine power. But, perhaps the pictures might also hold clues on how the Calamity could be averted.

She powered on the Sheikah Slate, wanting to give the visual data a more thorough analysis before turning in for the night. She scrolled through the horrific images of destruction, this time not having others around whom she had to put on a brave, composed face for. As much as she loathed wallowing in self-pity, she had at least managed not to break down earlier in front of the others. The princess had sensed the understanding of her plight in Impa’s voice earlier as they looked through the images together. 

Not only was Hyrule Castle pictured, but the destruction seemed to be widespread. Akkala Citadel... Fort Hateno…. The Divine Beasts…. All in ruin or corrupted somehow, and the fate of the entire kingdom and its people were bearing down on her.

I will not allow this to come to pass… I’ll do everything I can to stop this… But without the power, how will it ever be enough?

Despair and dread were starting to set in as it often did more and more over the years. She’d already tried everything she could up until now, and still, the power that should have come so naturally seemed to be impossible to find within herself. And the longer her power remained dormant, the more frustrated and cold her father grew. Zelda shut her eyes, holding her hand over her face, trying to calm herself, but it was too late as the tears she’d been holding back for hours broke forth. She quietly sobbed, hoping to not alert the attention of any of her attendants who might hear her cries. She scrolled to the next image and then there was not a location or a Divine Beast, but a picture of a strange man and she went silent. Her green eyes moved over the image. There on the Sheikah Slate was a hooded man in a tattered purple robe, but she could tell he was very handsome, even if not by typical Hylian standards. She couldn’t help but stop and stare. He was very pale and had dark, collarbone length hair. There was a long braid that hung in front of his left eye and was tucked behind his ear, and another that was decorated with gold beads.

He wore a gold circlet and a thick gold collar that draped over his shoulders that reminded her of jewelry worn by Gerudo royalty, although this man clearly wasn’t Gerudo. No male had been born to that tribe in ages. There was an oddity about the circlet though, in that the red stone had what appeared to be a stylized yellow iris painted on it - sort of symbolizing a third eye.

Who was this mysterious man? He must have been on the slate for a reason. The slate’s screen went black, and she realized she’d zoned out. Her mind was flooded with so many questions and speculations. Could someone like him really be out there, somewhere? He looked more like he belonged in some distant past foreign to her. Were they destined to meet? Should she seek him out? She didn’t know, nor did she know how to raise the subject to anyone else. Her father, dear sweet Hylia, her father…. Would almost certainly chastise for wasting her time with images discovered on Sheikah technology which had been banned up until the recent past instead of dedicating every waking moment in prayer to unlock her dormant power. But to Zelda, this felt as crucial as researching relics, perhaps even more so. And then it occurred to Zelda who she could confide in - Urbosa. Based on the jewelry the man wore, maybe she might know something.

And just like that, the heaviness that had pushed her to the edges of despair had lifted, even if only a little bit. Zelda laid the slate on her nightstand before climbing into her stately canopy bed. She found she was able to drift off with relative ease, all things considered. Tomorrow, she was sure, would be another demanding day, and she was eager for the respite sleep would bring.

In her dream that night was a woman in a resplendent white dress, and Zelda sensed she was connected with her. Was this Hylia, the goddess whose blood was said to run through her veins? The goddess smiled to herself in a dreamy way, absorbed in her song as her fingers moved along the strings of a small harp. The goddesses appeared to be singing as her lips moved silently, Zelda not being able to hear her words. Perhaps it was a lullaby. Zelda wished she could hear the goddess’s song. The goddess seemed so passionate about…. something, but all she could do was watch and hope this dream to be a harbinger of good things to come.

oOo

His harbinger turned and left, having imparted to his disciple how it had come to be and how it planned to counter what its “twin” from a ruined Hyrule had set out to do. It was fate that Ganon’s hatred had followed that Guardian through time to possess the one from this era. 

And now, Calamity Ganon’s will can be fulfilled in this time as well… The Prophet of Doom thought. This was all a part of Lord Ganon’s plan to annihilate his enemies completely, leaving no room for victory, even in a separate path in time.

That Guardian by the princess’s side had the means to set this path on a different course, and the prophet knew he couldn’t let some meddlesome piece of junk alter fate’s rightful course. He would subdue the princess and her newfound ally. The thought of destroying the Guardian had already crossed his mind, even before Lord Ganon’s new directive. Now he just had to make those two degenerate, banana-eating goons do his and Lord Ganon’s bidding.

The prophet was elated that he could now receive such clear directives and revelations from Lord Ganon. Had he not met with the harbinger, he would truly be on his own. The harbinger was proof to potential allies that he had indeed been chosen and could know the will of Calamity Ganon, not just interpret it through the constellations or prophetic dreams. Gaining the trust of the Yiga Clan didn’t feel like much, but things were coming together. The Calamity would return and reign down its hatred on Hyrule, and the kingdom would come to its end, at long last.

oOo

“I have selected the candidates for the Divine Beasts. Zora grace, Princess Mipha; Goron vigilance, Daruk; Rito confidence, Revali; and Gerudo spirit, Chief Urbosa. You will go meet with each and explain their role to pilot their respective Divine Beast.” King Rhoam’s voice carried through the main foyer from his place on the balcony.

Zelda looked up at her father and responded. “Yes, I suspected as much… I will meet with Chief Urbosa first. I am... looking forward to seeing her again.”

Rhoam nodded. “Understood. It has been some time since your last meeting with her.” The king’s voice held a respectful tone, perhaps thinking of his late queen who had been close friends with the Gerudo chief. His gaze moved to the little Guardian, and his voice became cold. Zelda stiffened as the words left his mouth. “And? You’re taking this relic with you, I presume?” Rhoam narrowed his eyes at the small Guardian that was currently hiding behind his daughter.

Zelda could sense an admonishment incoming, yet she managed an explanation. “Yes. After talking to Purah and Robbie, we thought it would be best.”

Rhoam took a seat on his throne, considering this. The Guardian moved out from behind her as if emboldened by her voice. “I will remind you once again. Above all else, your duty is of the utmost importance. Are we clear?” Rhoam said, sternly.

For the briefest moment, Zelda thought of the hooded man she’d seen on the Sheikah Slate. “Yes, we are clear. I understand... And I will honor my duty.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se…. Zelda thought. After all I’ve been through, who can say what honoring my duty looks like. Prayer hasn’t worked. I’ve spent over a decade dedicating myself to prayer. If I could just focus my attention elsewhere, perhaps the power will find me in a way nobody could foresee.

Zelda, Link, and Impa departed the castle with the new Guardian in tow. The Princess breathed a soft sigh of frustration as she felt her father’s eyes boring into her, which didn’t go unnoticed by Impa and Link. And in time, the three were laughing and bonding over the little Guardian that acted as if it were a knight in the princess’s service.

#Age of Calamity #Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity #Astor #fanfiction #Mostly Zelda centric chapter here #Zelast

[xiaojusaur]

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut

Warnings: Vanilla unprotected sex (stay safe my peeps), oral (receiving), daddy kink

Word Count: 1765

Description: This is a short drabble as a gift for my Secret Admirer @triheartedhero 💖 Hello! I’m the Little Dino in your ask box! I hope you like this! I’m really sorry it isn’t longer, I promise to make it up to you in the future 💚

You woke up in what you wanted to be a normal day, but sadly it was Valentine’s Day and you were meant to spend it alone once again.

The thought of going around and seeing everyone all lovey-dovey, with gifts inside red wrapping and heart-shaped balloons, was making you nauseous.

On days like this, you missed him.

He told you he was a busy man, mostly because he had to perform his tasks as a CEO, but you missed him.

You still remember the first Valentine’s you spent together. He took you out to dinner, bought you flowers and chocolates, and then rented a suite in one of the most expensive hotels in town, obviously to wreck you all night long.

The last few years he had sent you flowers and chocolates but he always has an excuse to not come. It made you wonder if he still liked you at all.

Considering you went from being his sugar baby to a serious relationship scared you since you were always thinking he would get bored.

You got out of bed to make some breakfast to then continue with your normal life.

You decided to play some music while preparing the food to feel the joy of the day. You were only wearing underwear and a big shirt that covered just below your butt cheeks.

You started beating the eggs and started shaking at the same rhythm, enjoying yourself.

Out of nowhere, you felt two arms tangling around your waist. You screeched in panic, who was this?! He pulled you closer to him and when you smelled that cologne, you knew it was him, so you smiled widely. “Joonie?!”

“Hi baby,” he squeezed you and kissed the crook of your neck. You turned around to get greeted by your lover, your tall noodle. You hugged him tightly and he did the same, he picked you and sat you on the counter. You quickly trapped him between your legs, pulling him closer, and kissed him as an instinct. He kissed you back with the usual hunger. You quickly started unbuttoning his shirt, desperate to feel his warmth, but gently grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

You looked at him confused, didn’t he want you anymore? As if reading your thoughts, he said, “I have a surprise for you.” Your eyes shined and you smiled while looking at him, “What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” he said pinching your cheek. You did as told and you heard him mumble, “Such a good girl always.”

He placed something on your thighs, like a rectangular box, but you didn’t open your eyes until he said so.

“You may open them, baby,” he sounded excited.

You had a tiny red box on your legs. You quickly took it and opened it carefully. Inside, there was a think necklace with a green leaf made of emerald as a pendant.

You felt your eyes get filled with tears, “Oh Joonie! It’s beautiful!”

He was smiling proudly, “I’m glad you like it, babygirl,” he kissed your forehead.

“I know I’m not the best at this Valentine's thing, but I really love you. I want you to know it.” There he was, assuring you what you doubted, he knew you so well.

“Joonie, you’re gonna make me cry! Stop!” You whined while you hugged him.

“There’s something more,” he added while tugging a lock of hair behind your ear. You looked at him in anticipation, waiting for the next thing.

“I rented a cottage in the woods, so we can spend some time together, relax... without work issues.”

“Oh my God, Joon! That’s amazing! I love it!” You hugged him again.

“We’re leaving in the morning tomorrow, so start packing up your things,” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I will, as soon as I finish this breakfast,” you pecked his lips and he smiled sweetly. You were so in love with him.

In the morning, you were ready early because you were excited. Namjoon came early to pick you up. He was wearing shorts and a white shirt, he looked completely stunning.

“Ready to go, my love?” He asked while picking up your stuff and putting it in the trunk of his car.

“I’m so excited!!” You squealed.

He laughed and then got in the car, you did the same. Namjoon took your hand in his and started the car.

The cottage was beautiful! It was made of wood and surrounded by flora, so natural, so organic! Inside, everything was so white and bright, cozy. You would give anything to live here forever.

You went to leave your stuff and to organize the bedroom when Namjoon entered right behind you. He hugged you from behind and pecked your neck softly. You hummed and giggled because it tickled.

“Baby,” he whispered with a deeper voice in your ear, giving you instant goosebumps.

“Yes?” you asked giggling.

“You know how much I love your body, right?” He pulled you closer.

“You do?” You were pretending to be clueless.

“Oh, adooore your body,” he said as his hands traveled down your torso.

“Hmmm... I didn’t know,” you moved your head so he could place his chin on the crook of your neck.

“How about I show you how much I love you, hmm? What do you think?” He squeezed one of your thighs.

You could never get used to how soft his hands were, they were so addictive.

He turned you around and pushed you to the bed, he pinned you down by the wrists and quickly started to kiss your neck. You couldn’t stay still because you missed him so much. “Namjoonie,” you moaned.

He hummed as if asking you what happened.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you breathed.

“Me too, my baby girl,” he stopped for a second to say that.

Namjoon let go of your hand to roam down your body, he switched his kisses to your lips now to try to distract you from where his hand was going. He didn’t lose any time, his hand was already caressing between your legs. You were so eager, you moaned in anticipation.

“I can’t wait anymore,” he growled. Joon kneeled on the bed to take off your pants and underwear at the same time. You gasped as you felt the sudden breeze on your bare core. He kissed right under your navel and you were already holding your breath, you knew what he was about to do.

His eyes were fixed on you while his lips kissed their way down until he reached your mound. He smirked and kissed between your folds, making you throw your head back, succumbing into the pillow. You missed his lips and there he was, reminding you how much you loved them. His tongue darted out, tasting you.

“Mmmm... So sweet as always,” he hummed right on your folds, making your eyes turn in pleasure.

He picked up a pace, giving you fast licks on your clit with the tip of his tongue. Occasionally, he would stop and suck and then started licking again. Your hands were on his head, pulling his hair while he had you moaning uncontrollably already.

“Fuck, Joonie, I’m gonna cum...” you keened.

“Come on my tongue baby girl,” he said stopping for a second to talk and then continued with his ministrations.

You felt the knot on your pelvis trying to snap. You relaxed and you let it happen. You came with a soft moan, whining, pulling his hair to make him stop because of overstimulation.

He stopped, gasping and saying, “Such a good pussy, I love it so much.”

You pulled him by the belt, opening it with despair.

“You’re in such a hurry,” he laughed.

“I want you now daddy, and you want me too,” you panted while watching the bulge in his pants.

He unbuttoned his shirt as you unbuttoned his pants. “Joonie, please, take me,” you begged. He just chuckled.

You took off your shirt because you didn’t want to be half-dressed while he was all naked and glorious right in front of you.

He leaned on you and kissed you. He held his member with one of his hands, looking for your entrance. He knew your body so well, he thrusted without any problem, groaning in the process. “Ugh, you’re so wet, fuck!”

You felt so full of him, you just wanted to feel him as close as possible, so you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were moaning right on his ear while he thrusted you at a normal pace.

“Gosh! I missed you so much, baby girl,” he panted in your ear. “You feel so warm around me.”

Normally, you two fucked dirty, but today you felt him closer, intimate. You loved this new feeling.

“Joon, please fuck me harder,” you moaned loudly and he complied, the sound of your thighs crashing with each other increasing. He then pushed one of your legs up and placed it over his shoulder, reaching deeper into you.

“Oh my God!!! Right there!!” You screamed. He was hitting just right, your head was on the clouds.

He kneeled on the bed to see you, he seized the opportunity to start rubbing on your swollen bundle of nerves. “Shit! Namjoon!” You moaned at the top of your lungs while he kept his pace.

“I'm gonna cum so hard baby girl,” his confession making you clench around him.

You felt the burning sensation coming over, running through your body slowly. You started arching your back, trying to control your body, not wanting to cum yet.

“Let it out baby,” he noticed you were holding it back.

You were fighting against your body but in the end, you lost. Your orgasm hit you with such a force, you started shaking and whining.

He groaned from watching you and from the feeling. A few thrusts later and he came right after you. He plopped on top of you, cuddling you closer, kissing your cheeks and whispering sweet things. “You’re so beautiful, my love. I love you so much.”

He let you recover and then rolled on the bed, letting you lie on his chest. He was playing with your hair and spoiling you so much. You both lied there naked for the rest of the day.

You two fucked like bunnies around the cottage for the whole weekend. There wasn’t a wall you left untouched. But like this, he reminded you that, even though he was busy most of the time, he still loved you and desired you like the first time.

#bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts #bts scenarios #fanfic #bts smut #bts reactions #kim namjoon #namjoon reaction #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #rm fluff #rm #rm smut #secret admirer #ksmutclub #secretadmirer2020