#needless to say I was sobbing so much while reading the last chapters that I had to take some minutes to calm down

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 12 - The boys who went through hell.

Summary: Eijirou is a good friend but even he has his limits. Izuku finally wakes up, but he’s not really himself.

Warnings: Swear words, arguments, a lot of crying and mentions of injuries. Mentions of mental issues.

For those who are waiting: In this chapter, we get to know what’s up with Izuku. The next chapter is still angsty but he’s alive and relatively well and that’s not gonna change, so I’ll leave it to you if you wanna start reading now or wait until Chapter 14 which is the official end of the angst. Chapter 14 is almost angst free and Chapter 13 ends on a positive note.

First Chapter Master List

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“Is he alive?” Is all you say after your phone lights up with Eijirou’s name.

It has been a whole hour since the accident but Katsuki’s and Eijirou’s phone just went into voicemail after a few rings, both of them probably busy giving statements to the police and making sure Izuku is (hopefully) taken care of.

After a few seconds of silence, there is a quiet “yes” coming from the other side. You can’t help but start crying again, even though you’ve literally just stopped 2 minutes ago.

You called Izuku’s mom right away. You tried your best to stay strong for her and it drained all your energy, even if it was only a 5 minutes long conversation because thankfully, All Might was with her so your phone call ended up with him trying to soothe your troubled soul instead of the other way around.

Your mind is a mess. There are no thoughts, just… emptiness. This is how being in shock might feel like, there isn’t any other explanation for it.

“He’s… alive… but… Y/N, you must stay strong. He’s… fuck.” Eijirou’s voice wavers. “We can’t see him until tomorrow. They need to do a lot of surgeries… his arms… they are broken. Shattered. The explosion… isn’t at fault. The building. When he was young he… broke his arms too many times….” Eijirou mutters, not even able to make full sentences, just little bits and bobs, trying to give you as much information as he can but failing with the interpretation so much you can barely understand a single word. “They don’t… know if he’ll be able to do hero work. They said this might be the end of his career. If the surgery succeeds, he might have a chance but he’ll need to stop completely for… months.”

“Ei, that’s not important right now.” You try your best to sound confident, but your voice can’t stop shaking. “What about his chest? His heart?”

“All good.” A new voice takes over. You have no idea who this is. “He lost a lot of blood but otherwise, he’s fine. It will leave a scar and it will take a while to completely heal as we used up all his stamina to save his right hand. Oh, I’m Kenji, the doctor assigned for his case. I asked Red Riot and Dynamight to try and relax but they aren’t listening.”

“Fuck you and your stupid fluffy blanket, Kenji.” Katsuki’s voice comes from the background and you can’t help but laugh in between two sobs.

“So as I said, we used up all his stamina to heal his right hand but both of his arms were injured quite a few times when he was young due to his quirk being too strong for his body hence why he was advised to keep them out of harm’s way to avoid any complications. Needless to say, this was the last straw for those poor, severely battered bones. Even though we healed it he won’t be able to lift anything for a while. He should be fine with everyday things but nothing else. He will need to start from the beginning and go to rehabilitation, but I do believe if someone can make it out of this, it’s him. I’ll send a note over with all the information you might need to support him. I’m sorry I can’t let you see him as we had to start with the surgeries as soon as we can, we also need to do some magic on his chest to make the pain more bearable, so… yeah. It’s going to be a long journey, but he’ll live.”

“That’s amazing, thank you.” You cry, finally able to breathe properly.

“I’m keeping these two for another 30 minutes then they’ll go straight to you. You have amazing friends, by the way, they couldn’t stop talking about you since they came in.”

“She ain’t my friend.” Katsuki grumbles in the background. “She’s… fucking family.”

“Oh, Katsuki…” You burst into tears again. “Can I talk to him? Please?”

“One minute. That’s it.” Kenji mutters and gives the phone to the grumpy blond.

“Oi, the fuck do you want?” He grumbles into the device, his voice shaking with every syllable.

“I love you too.”

“Fuck you, you asshole!” There is a sob on the other end and the phone goes silent.

~•🥦•~

It takes the two another hour to make it back to Izuku’s flat. Katsuki’s eyes are red and swollen and he does his best to avoid any kind of eye contact as he plops down right next to you on the sofa, leaning into you like a grumpy kid in need of attention. Eijirou only sighs, eyes just as red as his partner’s but somehow, more put-together in general; he makes a beeline for All Meowth’s little castle in the corner and starts petting the usually grumpy animal like his life depends on it.

“The list is not the problem, Deku is. He will… not be the same when he comes back.”

“Can we not have this conversation right now? We just came back. I want to chill.” Katsuki retorts angrily. You can’t help but gawk at him for using such a rude tone but this is not your fight so you let them talk this out.

Eijirou ignores his rudeness and concentrates on you instead. Nevermind then.

“We should make some food for tomorrow. I think they’ll let him come home in the morning. Kenji said he’ll be in a wheelchair for the first two or three days because of his chest injury. It will sting like hell every time he moves. Let’s make sure there is enough space in the flat for him to move around, maybe we should move some things… can we sleep in your room, Y/N?” Eijirou does not sit down; he’s walking around aimlessly, his mind clearly in a frenzy.

“Eijirou, sit down…” you are just about to retort but Katsuki jumps into your words.

“I ain’t gonna cook. We can fucking order. I saw my best friend almost die on the…”

Katsuki can’t finish the sentence. Something snaps in Eijirou and it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. His face is hardened on the edges, his skin is red from anger, he looks downright manic as he starts to yell.

“Your best friend?! Really?! Oh, I’m so fucking sorry, princess, would you like a fucking cup of tea, you selfish little prick?! I was there too, you know! I was the one getting his broken body out of the rumble while you sat on the fucking floor doing nothing, yet you didn’t even ask how I’m feeling! He’s not just your best friend! He’s mine, too! I felt just as miserable as you, yet I tried to be there for you and you can’t even move your fucking ass to make Katsudon for him! I can’t even close my eyes without seeing his dead fucking eyes and his head lolling in my arms lifelessly, thank you fucking much for asking!” Eijirou takes a deep breath, his legs shaking so much he can’t help but fall down to the floor. “Doesn’t fucking matter. Let’s just sit around and be sorry for ourselves. That will fucking help.” He mumbles between two sobs.

“I’ll… make Katsudon.” You mutter, trying your best to leave the two alone as soon as you can because whatever this was about, you have nothing to do with this.

“Let’s make it together. I… I’ll get the original recipe from Auntie.” For your surprise, Katsuki looks… extremely embarrassed, like a kid caught in the middle of mischief. There are fresh tears in his eyes, his cheeks dusted red, but his voice is weirdly even, like he’s been slapped out of his stupor and now he’s back to his usual self but more relaxed, more pliant. He touches the top of Eijirou’s head in a silent apology as he sneaks past him, but doesn’t do anything else and he also ushers you into the kitchen, forcing you to leave the redhead alone. After a few minutes of silence you can hear him standing up from the floor. He starts rearranging the living room, his actions followed by quiet sniffles and murmurs.

“Is he…?”

“He’ll come around. He gets scary as hell when he’s angry. If I would have tried to talk to him he would’ve beaten me to a pulp. He rarely gets mad but when he does, you better run.” Katsuki mutters, still looking at his phone, probably memorizing the recipe written in the reply. “Let’s get this shit done then I’ll talk to him when we go to sleep.”

“Are you not mad at him for talking to you like that?” You look at the blond, completely stunned.

“Why would I? He was right. I was being extremely self-centered and ungrateful. He deserved better.”

“I’m glad you know that.” Suddenly, Eijirou appears in the door, leaning on the wall lazily that he didn’t just have a complete meltdown mere minutes ago.

“I’m not fifteen anymore, I know when I fuck up.” Katsuki grumbles back and instead of an answer, Eijirou just bumps his fist into the blond’s arm in a friendly gesture and goes back to rearranging the flat, leaving you two alone to finish the food preparations.

These two are certainly something else.

~•🥦•~

“You can come in now. I need to finish some of his paperwork but he’ll be able to leave in a few minutes.” Kenji smiles at the five of you sitting in the waiting room. Inko and All Might are also here. “I must warn you, he’s… not in the best mood. Please take everything he says with a pinch of salt.”

You pale completely from his words. You’ve seen Izuku in a lot of different moods but this one doesn’t sound like him at all. He can’t serious… right?

~•🥦•~

“Why is she here?”

Your stomach churns from the sight in front of you. Izuku’s almost completely covered from his neck to his hips with bandages, one arm in a sling while the other just lays motionless on the bed, his fists clenched weakly as he stares at Katsuki and ignores everyone else. His eyebrows are scrunched together, his gaze angry, almost maniacally so, mouth tightened into a thin line. It feels like Katsuki is the biggest traitor in the world even though he literally did nothing to deserve such a treatment.

There is real terror in your eyes when you realize you don’t know this man laying on the bed. His face and his behavior is the exact opposite of your beloved’s, brash and rude, almost insensitive.

“The fuck do you mean, why? She’s your girlfriend!”

“Yeah, and she’s quirkless and you just danced around the whole city with her when we have a villain group literally after our biggest weaknesses!” Izuku yells back, flabbergasted, completely ignoring you sniffling in the background. Eijirou puts his arm around you and pulls you closer and you can’t stop yourself from burying your face into his chest, completely heartbroken.

“Midoriya-shounen. Y/N is safe. These boys didn’t leave her side since the accident.” All Might speaks up in a calm tone. “Don’t talk to them like that. Would you be able to sit at home in this situation? I don’t think so.”

“I’m really done with everyone yelling at me. Fucking sorry I exist, honestly.”

“Katsuki…” Kirishima tries to warn him but Katsuki doesn’t back down.

“You can be an asshole and tell me off for bringing her here but here’s the fucking truth: the villains have no fucking reason to fuck around with any of us anymore as I’m quite sure they proved their point by making the number one hero incapacitated.” Katsuki sneers while Eijirou pulls you even closer, knowing how hard this situation must be for you.

“I’ll bring Y/N home. Right now.” The redhead gives Izuku a side eye. “Actually, I’ll just ask Auntie Inko to take her away for a while.”

“I’m more than happy to take her in.” Inko speaks up between two sobs, clearly disappointed in his son’s behavior, even though she can’t hide how worried she is for her boy.

“No!” Izuku finally snaps back to his old self, his eyes the size of saucers as he sees you moving towards Inko, completely heartbroken. “Please…”

“Let’s give these two a moment then.” Eijirou sighs. This is the second time in the last 24 hours when you are utterly shocked by Red Riot’s forever changing personality. It’s like he knows what works with who, like a chameleon changing his colors to blend into their surroundings. You can’t help but respect that about him. Clearly, Eijirou is the one that keeps their friend group together, who helps everyone out in need, who’s always by everyone’s side even if his efforts are not appreciated. He’s amazing, honestly.

When the group leaves the room, Izuku moves one of his fingers in a silent plead for you to come closer and needles to say, you shuffle closer without a single retort.

“Sweets, I… I’m not okay.” Izuku bursts out crying just as you put your hand over his broken one. Izuku tries to bury his face into your chest but seeing the pain in his eyes makes you realize he can’t even move towards you without being in utter agony, so with tears streaming down your face you sit closer and move towards him, even if the position is extremely uncomfortable for you.

“I know, love. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” You mumble, your fingers raking through his messy hair gently, in case there is an injury you don’t know about around the back of his head.

You feel miserable but also… weirdly happy. Izuku is clearly not okay, he’s hurt in more ways than it’s visible for the naked eye but he still wants you around, he doesn’t want you to leave and that means a world to you.

“I… want to be alone. But I also want you to be around. I know it’s selfish, but…”

“It’s okay.” You mumble before Izuku can finish his sentence. “Whatever you need, baby. We will get through this. I promise.”

“I love you so much, you don’t understand.” Izuku whispers. “I’m sorry - I know you hate to hear that but I need to say it anyway.”

“Say that to Katsuki, honeybun.” You sigh, your lips leaving tiny kisses on the top of Izuku’s head. “He got told off by Eijirou yesterday. It was downright cruel. Then you yelled at him today, again. He feels really bad about freezing completely while you got hurt. He feels like it’s his fault.”

“He froze?” Izuku tries to look up at you but he winces from the pain right away. You really want to help him and it’s extremely frustrating that there is nothing you can do.

“Yeah, he just collapsed on the floor, unable to move. Eijirou pulled you out of the rumbles alone and brought you both back to the safe zone. You don’t need to talk to him right now, but in the future… don’t forget to apologize, okay?”

“Okay.” Izuku sighs. “Go home with them, okay? I’ll ask mom to bring me home. I just… want to talk to All Might. He…”

You can’t help but smile.

“He told me in the waiting room. I know everything. Just rest, okay? See you at home.” You jump off the bed but Izuku pulls you back for a proper, deep kiss that tastes kind of stale but it’s still sweet nonetheless.

Life might not be easy for you two right now but there isn’t a single obstacle you two can’t overcome together. Love is silly like that. It makes you to be able to do things you wouldn’t be able to do alone. And if the amount of love you two feel towards each other is any indication, even this mess will eventually clear out and one day, maybe a bit later in the future, you’ll be able to see pro hero Deku again, confident and victorious as he looks down at the handcuffed villains by his foot. It’s going to be a long journey, but…

“Until you are by my side I know I can do anything.” Izuku mutters into your mouth before he finally lets you go.

… yeah, exactly that.

… Next Chapter!

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Potato Ramble:

- Okay, so the next chapter will also have some angst in it but it will be nothing compared to the main angst so it’s only up from here. Also, I don’t think there’s gonna be any more angst after Chapter 13 except one scene later in the future, but that will be a short one and much milder so I’m sorry guys for all the angst but I had this planned since the beginning and it’s important for the story. One more chapter and the fluff is back! I swear!

- Kenji means “to be in good health”. I wanted to give the guy a name that works for his quirk, in the good old Horikoshi way.

- I’ll probably write the Kenji’s list down for you guys but this chapter is already too long so it will be in the next chapter!

- Izuku’s wheelchair will be a high tech one; instead of spinning the wheels he can just use a little joystick to move around because he’s hands are obviously fucked. It can also go up and down to make it easier for him to go to bed for instance. One of its arms is also retractable so he can literally just flop out of it. Random info.

- I can’t wait to be done with these chapters. Honestly, they break my heart but I’m actually quite proud of them.

- Send me your thoughts, please! I also need the support! 😂💜

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x you #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #pro hero deku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

*

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.  

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

*

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

*

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

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[safyresky]

🆕 Crystal Springs Chapter 30: "What Comes Next" now up on ao3/ff dot net!

Chapter 30: What Comes Next

Jacqueline wakes up; Jack fixes the Dome. With everything all but wrapped up, what comes next?

ao3 | ff dot net

you guys...she's finished.

Crystal Springs is actually, honest to goodness, FINISHED. THIS IS THE LAST HECKING CHAPTER! I AM BALLING IN THE CLUB RIGHT NOW!

Please, take my humble excerpt while I SOB UNCONTROLLABLY--

Bright. It was bright. It had been so, so dark and now it was so, so bright. Why was it so bright? She cracked open her eyes. Bright. Blurry. Sunlight. Water. Humid air. Blue eyes. “…Jack?” A sharp inhale. “Oh, darling. I’m so, so sorry.” “Momma?” She was being crushed. Her tummy hurt. Momma was sniffling. “But where’s…where’s Jack?” She tightened her hold. She didn’t reply. This was wrong. It was bright out. Too bright. But it wasn’t the right kind of bright. She closed her eyes tightly. Opened them again. Squinted. It was bright. Way too bright. Artificial bright. She groaned, turning her head to the side. Blue eyes. “…Jack?” “Jacqueline?” On the edge of his seat, Jack watched as Jacqueline’s eyes finally opened—only to immediately shut tight once more as she winced at the bright light. She groaned. Wrinkled her nose. Her eyes popped open again, blues meeting blues. She blinked. Smiled. “You are here.” “Welcome back, little flurry.”

THIS IS MY FAVOURITE PART OF THE WHOLE THING I AM A MESS! AND I HAVE NOBODY TO BLAME BUT MYSELF!

So, indeed. What DOES come next? Read on at ao3 and ff dot net to find out!

Want to start from the top and read it ALL IN ONE GO, NOW? You can do that HERE on ao3 and HERE on ff dot net! I think it's time for a new pinned post now, lol.

Story summary and chapter musings below the cut!

It’s been almost a year since Jack Frost thawed and things are looking…well, not so great. Jack’s powers are seemingly gone. Without them, the Dome that keeps the North Pole safe from the cold and its magic controlled is melting, putting everything and everyone magical at risk. Unable to hide his power shortage any longer, Jack is forced to admit the truth. Thankfully, there is a solution: enacting the Legate Law, bringing Jack and the sister that he hurt so many centuries ago back together again. But when Jacqueline starts experiencing destructive blackouts, the pair are forced to head back home to Crystal Springs, bringing Jack face to face with the rest of the family. Needless to say, between getting his powers back, helping his sister figure out what in the FROST those blackouts even were, reconciling with his parents, meeting the two even younger siblings he didn’t even KNOW he had, NOT TO MENTION the ancient threat that’s had it out for the ENTIRE Frost family finally making a move? Saving Christmas (regrettably) is looking to be a little bit…complicated.

And there we have it! After way too many years, Crystal Springs is done! Again again! TBH it's probably a GOOD thing I paused halfway through rewriting--my writing has gotten muchas better and I don't think the story would be as lovely as it is now if I HADN'T taken a huge long ass pause from round 2 for a haute minute!

So, here's what's 🆕 This Chapter:

Kept the sillies but made them FLOW better

Since Fino got a whole ass bonding scene with Jack a couple chapters back, the Elfirmary scene went to Fiera instead, and it is LOVELY. It worked out well! She surprised me a BUNCH!

Lucy is in character now :) Love to see it :)

WORD COUNT!!!!!!

And I think that's about it!

OG 2014 Edition: 7,114k words

NEW 202X Edition: 15,387k ish words

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and creating with me! I really hope that Crystal Springs is as delightful a read as it was to write 🥰🥰

In the meantime! Here's what we can expect to see from the CS-Universe:

Frostmas making it's way over to ao3 monthly! Complete with minor edits for a fresh ✨GLOW UP✨

Smile Shots creeping over there

NEW Smile Shots creeping up over here

The usual scrimblies

Into the Shadows musings? We'll see. She's a little disjointed rn but will be sO FUN once I've got all the threads connected 🥳🥳

And thank you from the very bottom of my heart for coming along on this ride with me! And the asks and the art--all of it has been so, so amazing and SO lovely to see! I cannot tell you all how happy my heart is knowing these lil fucks (affectionate) have resonated with you all, too 🧡💙🤍💖

#dani writes #long post #the santa clause #the santa clause 3 #fanfic #ocs #crystal springs #tsc jack frost #tsc #tsc3 #cs updates #cs on ao3 #cs posting #I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT READERS THOUGHT! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU ALL THINK OF THIS EPIC CONCLUSION!!! #Well. chill conclusion #nothing CRAZY going on this chapter #aside from WORD LENGTH and the HORRENDOUS AMOUNT OF CHARACTERS #can't wait for when its TRIPLES that amount :) :) xO

[vivid-ink]

Hello babe <3 If you don't already know, I am obsessed with your story the Love Shack! Since it has come to a beautiful close I figure it was time to pay my respects and let you know specifically why this story is so fantastic.

First of all let me start by saying, I was so entranced by this story and emotional over it that after reading the last chapter I ended up talking about it with my boyfriend for over an hour! He let me reccount the whole story in full detail while we ate dinner and let me tell you, he got invested!! At first he was just listening to be nice to me but it got to a point where when I would pause to scarf down food for a few minutes he would get so impatient for me to continue. He's just glaring at me like "Bitch, what did Neyomi do? You can't leave me hanging like that!" I thoroughly enjoyed it, so basically he too is a fan now.

Girl, the way I went into this series thinking "ooh this will be a nice steamy threesome" and then somehow ended up balling my eyes out with every chaper, ILLEGAL! You had me crying within the first few paragraphs of the last chapter. Just for some perspective I actually don't remember the last time I legitimately cried full on while reading. I was holding back sobs so my roomate wouldn't come check up on me. Needless to say, you had me in a chokehold, sis. And I'm living for it! This will definitely be one of my favorite stories to reread and I think about it very often.

I could go on and on about the specific reasons I feel that this story enraptured me, but here are just a few.

Your depiction of Neteyam is honest to Eywa one of my all time favorites! Not only do I feel like he is very representative of the canon character but also extremely captivating. One of the reasons I think Neteyam (and truly all Na'vi men) is so hot is becuase of the raw male power tha radiates off of him, and I mean in the best way possible. Like other Na'vi males he shows that he can be a provider and protector (which biologically does something to me so I can not be blamed for finding this appealing haha) while also holding himself with a confidence and sense of responsibility that only a true man can capture. You get so many reminders of this power in your writing, even just in the way you describe his attire. Things like his battle band and sheathed knife or bow all serve as visual reminders that Neteyam is a respectable powerful and influential male that will someday be Olo'eyktan. And then to see him crumble and shake and quiver for Neyomi....that is so hot! I'm not sure if any of that made sense but basically, you nailed Neteyam. (not mad about the double meaning there haha).

Then there's Lo'ak who I have decided is the MVP in this story AND NO ONE CAN CHANGE MY MIND! He shows such a wonderful side of Lo'ak's character that doesn't often get displayed. He is still rebellious and free and a troublemaker, but deep down he loves his brother so much and isn't wiling to let Neteyam get in his own way of his happiness. Not only did the poor man have to witness Neyomi and Neteyam disregard his advice constantly while he suffered to watch but he straight up took a few punches in the face just to get Neteyam to work out his own shit. That is the fire I love about, Lo'ak. Consequences be damned, he will do what needs to be done. He is the ultimate wingman and I truly love him so much in this story. Without him let's face it, those two would have ended up miserable. He is the hero of this story and the main person that made me hold onto hope throughout each chapter.

Neyomi was also such a beautiful character. She is a perfect blend of independant and strong while still embracing her feminine side. I love seeing female characters like this because it shows that this duality exists and it's okay to embrace our own masculine and feminine traits within each of us. Sure she was stubborn as heck (and so was Neteyam of course) but she never completely surrendered herself to grief. She let herself cry and feel her emotions, but still tried to press forward with her life no matter how much her heart ached. I respect that.

What I'm trying to get at babe is that you have TALENT! Your storytelling completely transported me and I wish I could read the whole thing again for the first time. Please write a book or something because I would genuinly read an 800 page book if it meant you were the author. Thank you for all the time and efffort that you have put into your stories and into this community. I know how long projects like these take and I really do appreciate you putting the work in. I hope you have fabulous day! Thanks for reading my very long ramble. Sending you many forehead kisses <3

Oh my goodness, @wheneclipsefalls THANK YOU for your amazing message! I can't believe you got your boyfriend invested in 'The Love Shack'! Your storytelling skills must be A+++ if you recounted it all to him & it kept his interest! 🤣 My husband sighs every time I start talking about Avatar lol!

GURLLL, we all go crazy for a big, strong man who has a good balance of dominance and tenderness... I'm glad you like my portrayal of an adult Neteyam. 😁 I try to keep my characters as well-balanced & as true to canon as I feel they should be. As for my OCs, I always create a little mindmap of them and what their personalities/characteristics are before I start writing. It's like I need to bring life to them that way first. I wanted Neyomi to have a good balance of hard and soft, if that makes sense (I feel like I always write my female leads this way, in different ways), so I'm happy if you feel I've nailed this. I seem to have an inability to write quick drabbles (you may have noticed lol), so the result is usually fleshed out characters and fleshed out plots. 😛 Lo'ak is absolutely MVP #1 in 'The Love Shack'. I often see Neteyam being touted as the 'bestest big bro ever', which I completely agree with. I wanted to portray a more mature Lo'ak who loves & appreciates his big bro, so I thought what better way to do this than to have him repay the favour and look out for Neteyam. 🥰

You want me to write a book?? 🥹 I'm so flattered. I kind of did, in a way. My first Neteyam story 'Violet Eyes' is 20 chapters and 150k words. I always promote this work because it's my proudest achievement to date. It's a real unpredictable rollercoaster with a completely original narrative. Give it a try if you haven't & I hope you love it too.

Honestly, thank you for taking the time to leave me your message. This past 10 months has been full of creative fulfilment writing for the ATWOW fandom. All my works are in my masterlist. It is always such a JOY to hear from readers who have been moved by my work. You have absolutely made my day, my lovely. 😘😘😘 Thank you, THANK YOU so much for your support. A thousand forehead kisses back at ya. xx

#annalise asks #so many feelings right now #thank you readers #thank you my dearest

[tinypuppysoul]

This fight was SO good and both Kuroki Gensai and Kengan Ashura deserve so much more attention and praise

#kuroki gensai #kengan ashura #ch230 #needless to say I was sobbing so much while reading the last chapters that I had to take some minutes to calm down #the ending was so good #so sad #but so good #and so were all the fights #these guys deserve so much more praise and I really hope they become more popular soon

[marieanneline]

wait wait hold up i am actually seething about the reveal

ya boi's not a dabi stan. at all. the only reason i'm remotely interested in his character is if he's actually related to shouto and how that would affect hero society in general. i remember reading the training camp arc, seeing him being one of the villains there, him saying todoroki's full name, and thinking "SIBLINGS?????" because agshdfjlk their EYES are SO SIMILAR!! i really want to give credit to horikoshi being able to portray their similarities from artstyle alone because that's talent.

(it's more apparent in the anime since you see the eye color— but appearance-wise, shouto takes after rei and dabi takes after enji the most, so this definitely isn't the best photo to prove my point...)

anyways,,,, dabi's ideals of heroics fall in line with stain's ideals and so we all already theorized how if he was the long lost big brother touya, it would be because of the fact that his father really wasn't a hero. this makes sense. and so, we're all fucking right. props to us, really, and props to horikoshi for all the foreshadowing because i had fun :)) in terms of story and plot, i think this reveal is fantastic.

alright, on to why dabi is a dick

(i'm assuming this was his choice and no one pressured him after all)

the todoroki family is on the road to recovery!!

- shouto finally visits his mother back in season 2 and visits her every chance he gets. you see the effort he makes and it's nice to see him change from season 1 to 2 (early-roki!!)

(guys he even sends her letters- look at that sparkle by his face!! he's sweet :)) and rei's smile!!!!)

- enji (whether we wanted it or not, i don't mind much personally) is trying to atone for everything he's done to his family

- natsuo, who originally wasn't fond of shouto because he had their father's attention (although he does come to the horrible realization that shouto was one of the most unfortunate) and mother's attention (because she wanted to protect shouto), has a closer relationship with his little brother now (can you believe he didn't even know shouto's favorite food was cold soba until ch. 192?? i was sobbing). he really regrets the prejudice he had against shouto and he's trying to be an actual brother to him now.

- rei's almost recovered enough to be released from the hospital!!

- fuyumi and her idyllic "happy family"– wHICH, BY THE WAY, ALMOST CAME TO FRUITION. their mother coming home, shouto connecting with his siblings, and enji being not-the-way-he-was-before is the best outcome they could have hoped for. and it was happening.

and i realize that all of that setup is for this very moment

this? this. this. this is being broadcasted. to everyone. that means the citizens know that their new #1 hero is directly related to a member of a really bad villain organization (i almost called it a terrorist group oop-).

by ruining endeavor, the citizens faith in heroes will collapse. this also affects shouto's reputation as an upcoming hero, and i am so terrified of what this could mean for him. imagine your career ending before it even started, just when you found your passion for being a hero again. all that progress he's made for himself since starting UA could be seen as pointless to him and i would hate for him to retrogress like that because it's not his fault. i would absolutely hate it if the media starts bashing shouto for being related to a villain, when he was also a victim of abuse.

seeing this look on shouto's face is making me dehydrated istg i'm fucking SOBBING— he doesn't even look angry!! in the last few chapters he was angry and worried for his friends, teachers, father maybe, other heroes... but he just looks sad. and the fact that the panel chooses to show the left side of his face is.... there's so much to unpack.

but yeah, this is being broadcasted. does fuyumi know? the cameo she had showed her working so maybe not. natsuo's cameo showed that he was at a lecture, so he also probably didn't see.

but rei did. that's like- that's the person i would want to keep this from the most.

the effects of this entire reveal genuinely scare me. how will this affect rei's mental state? she'll realize that what enji did is actually so much worse. their first child being a villain?? i'm terrified for how she'll react, she's doing much better in recent chapters after all. her kids are visiting her, shouto sends her letters to keep in touch, and enji sends her flowers and respectfully keeps his distance. i really don't want this reveal to result in a relapse. and if she does relapse, then fuyumi's ideal of a happy family is once again out of arms reach. the future of their mother finally coming back home is so far away again and it's genuinely so heart-breaking.

:(

plus— how will fuyumi's little elementary school students react to her being related to a villain? will the school fire her because of her connection to a villain and how that might cause concerns for students and parents????

it's also hard to say exactly how this will affect shouto and natsuo. natsuo was the closest to touya when they were kids so what would his whole opinion be of what touya's become? will he have a moral crisis?

in terms of moral crisises, i guess i'm more concerned about shouto. the boy knows he wants to forgive his father, but this is just making it so much harder. and after this, will he still want to? and finding out that his own sibling is a villain... remember the stain arc? there were some parallels between midoriya's, iida's, and todoroki's positions in the last chapter and i'm worried about what that could foreshadow. from that arc alone, we know that shouto doesn't agree with stain's views at all [i forgot what he said but it was really compelling]. we know that dabi's a stain follower though, so will this disrupt shouto's sense of justice? i hope not.

but family has always been kind of a weak spot for shouto, hasn't it? i hope this doesn't affect his resolve to be a hero because i do think that there's a way to– somehow– not have a corrupt hero society and i want him to fight for that.

touya being a villain is perfectly valid though, i don't doubt that. it's just disheartening to address that while every other todoroki was working hard to become a normal family, here's their oldest brother, who's not really dead. what's going to become of that altar at their house now?

learning the extent to touya's hatred towards endeavor is truly terrifying. we know enji is or was a horrible person and his redemption arc is based on the very fact that he can't be forgiven, despite some of his family trying their best to do so or at least get over it. but the fact that touya has even thought about killing shouto? that's just. ouch. touya's definitely gone through too much abuse, and all of the todoroki family problems are because of enji's bad parenting. but this does not justify murder and especially that of his younger brother, who also got the brunt of the abuse.

needless to say, i am a fool. i don't know if anything i just said will ever be true, but the important thing to take from whatever the heck i just shat out is that all of this is/could be a result of this reveal. it's the fact that dabi seems to have no sympathy. it's the fact that he doesn't care if his blood related family crashes and burns. really, if this is solely about endeavor and what he did, there's no need to bring the rest of the family into this. rei was sent to a hospital for god's sake. shouto has a scar. it's excessive and unmoral and although questionable ethics and values are key traits of a villain, it doesn't justify how much he's hurting the todorokis.

(look at this shit eating grin he has. no remorse. he really doesn't give a shit about the others but I DO and I'M so SAD)

and assuming that the whole "endeavor's wife admitted into hospital" was swept under the rug in terms of media, will that suddenly come back to light? because it shouldn't. maybe it should be known that she's in the hospital because of marital abuse but either way rei should not be dragged back into this disaster, and neither should the rest of them. there's also a chance that the media will accuse rei of having abused her kids too, which is messed up for different reasons. they're trying so hard to have any semblance of a normal family, and if dabi's way of revealing this to the world ruins that in any way then i hATE THIS REVEAL ASDFGHJKL—

#tw: abuse #this is just a rant for myself i'm so sorry for those who have this on their dash #how the fuck do you add those ''under the cut'' things on mobile?? #and this is a long ass post #i wrote too much #and i was redundant #and i wrote this at 4 in the morning #many many typos... #i needed to let this out though #bnha 290 #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #notey

[giant-sketches]

This is a flashback chapter that focuses on Virgil’s transition from a Dark Side to a Light Side, based on a prompt idea I was given by @sufferingartist17​. Currently he is sick in bed with a high fever that is unfortunately causing him to size-shift at random. Normally the sides do not get sick but something inside Virgil’s body is changing.

P.S. I feel someone asked for a chest kiss or suggested it so that’s in here too!

As a side note I have made an Ao3 account where I will be posting all my works here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giantsketches If you can’t find a specific chapter for any of my series you can find it all there!

Virgil moaned as his body expanded past his bed frame and his heels touched the carpet. He had no idea what was happening to him, he simply woke up like this. His breathing was shallow and his face flushed from a high fever. Whatever was happening was affecting his core as he couldn’t control his size. The next jump came with his bed collapsing underneath him as his foot kicked the door in. It flew into the wall with a crash, waking up the other occupants of the house.

“What in the world was that?” shouted Roman, hurrying himself into robe and out into the hallway.

Patton had already made his way to where the sound came from and stood in front of the door frame leading to Virgil’s room. Logan followed behind in a panic.

“What was that crashing sound Patton?” Logan called out in worry.

Patton didn’t reply and only stood there at the doorway with a look of terror on his face. He really couldn’t explain what he was seeing as he stepped inside. Virgil was now pressed up against the wall of his room as his body covered any visible space. Needless to say he was extremely uncomfortable and scared.

Patton took a big gulped before speaking, “H-hey kiddo? What’s this all about, is everything okay?”

Patton’s eyes were teary...it wasn’t like he was scared of Virgil specifically, but this series of events was too similar to Remus’s destabilization. The memories of that night didn’t just haunt Roman’s mind, it terrorized them all. Virgil couldn’t be destabilizing could he? He was doing so well before.

Virgil was panting as he looked down hearing Patton’s tiny voice stuttering. “Pat, I don’t know what’s going on...my body feels really hot and my cores going crazy.”

His body was hot? “What do you mean hot Virgil?” No response as the giant groaned in pain. This tight space was taking a toll on his aching joints.

“It would appear he has a fever.”

Surprised at the sudden voice Patton whipped around to see Roman and Logan enter, the best they could, into the room.

“A fever? Lo we don’t get sick. How does Virgil have a fever?”

“I’m only reading out the report my scanner is picking up. I personally have no idea why his body temperature has risen.”

Roman’s face went pale at the sight, “He’s not de-destabilizing is he?”

Obviously, out of all of them Roman was not ready to ever relive that kind of nightmare again. Especially if Virgil grew into a 1000 foot tall raging giant!

“Both of you need to calm down, he’s not destabilizing. However, his body is going through a dramatic change of sorts that I’ve no data on. All we can do is observe and hope for the best outcome.”

It wasn’t everyday Logan of all people found themselves lacking the knowledge to assist someone with. He was frustrated as Virgil’s face winced in pain. What in the world was going on?

“You mean we can’t help him?” Patton whimpered.

“I’m sorry Patton, but that is correct.”

That was the moment the waterworks popped out as Patton started sobbing. Only able to look on as Virgil suffered was just too heartbreaking. Same as not knowing what was happening.

“Pa-tton.” Virgil whined.

He felt so far away from them, of how he wanted to just shrink back down. Instantly, like magic he did just that. The sudden down-sizing was so dramatic he was partially airborne for a moment as he landed hard back onto his broken bed. “Ow.”

“Oh my gosh Virgil! Are you okay?” Patton ran to his now normal sized friend and hugged him. The others following suit in worry.

Virgil sighed with relief, “Not really, but at least I can see you all better.”

He hugged them all back, but he could feel a warm pulse rising up again from his core. He pushed them back as he leaped out of bed.

“I can feel that what’s ever causing my random shifting isn’t going away anytime soon. I need to get out of the house for now, but…” Virgil fell to the floor with a loud thump.

His body wasn’t listening and it felt like it was made of lead. All his strength was gone as he started crawling towards the door. Virgil could tell the next spurt was going to be a lot bigger! Way bigger than his tiny room and maybe even the house. He was desperate to get out to a more open area. That’s when he felt two pairs of arms hoist him up and rested his arms on their shoulders.

“Don’t worry kiddo we got you!”

“Your carriage awaits!”

Carriage? Behind the scenes, Logan had ordered his robots to go clear out the facility and make a makeshift bed inside for their weakened patient. Finally, there was something he could do to help.

“Thanks.” Virgil blushed as he was dragged out into the hall and towards the front door.

Unfortunately, once they had finally stepped outside that’s when another surge hit. Virgil yelped as he tried his best to push his friends away. Roman had made it, but Patton screamed as a massive hand of a 40 foot tall giant slammed into him. He was now pinned to the ground momentarily and thrashing about in pain as Virgil’s vision blurred. The giant's head was spinning as the blood curdling cries of his tiny friends wails reached his ringing ears.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!”

In horror Virgil quickly felt Patton’s tiny form wiggling underneath his palm as he retracted it. No, no, no, no, no! Please, oh God please be alright. Virgil was in a panic as he lowered his head down to make sure Patton was still breathing. He hadn’t broken him right? Luckily, the sight of Patton’s chest rising and falling relieved his heart. Still, that didn’t change the fact that he had hurt someone important to him...someone who trusted him.

Roman had been paralyzed by fear for what felt like hours at the sight of Patton being trapped underneath Virgil’s gigantic. The screams now reaching his ears as he called out,

“PATTON!” he rushed straight to his friend’s side to check on him.

“Oh my gosh Patton! Are you okay? Can you stand?” Of course Patton was not okay, but he was still in one piece as he grabbed onto Roman’s hand and squeezed.

“Still kicking.” he giggled. How could he laugh at a time like this? “Sorry if I scared you kiddo, I’m just a bit winded and….sore.” He winced as he sat himself up. Roman sliding his free hand on the poor guys back to keep him steady.

“What about Virgil?”

At this point the gloomy giant had stood up and walked himself over to the facility. For some reason when he was big he had plenty of energy to move about. Although, his high fever caused him to stumble from time to time shaking the earth beneath him. He growled to himself, haven’t I caused my family enough trouble as is?

Once he reached the shutter doors he realized he was far too big to go inside. Defeated he just stood there thinking about shrinking back down so he could duck inside as soon as possible. I mean it worked last time.

“Virgil?”

Slowly, the sulking giant turned his attention towards Patton who now needed help from Roman just to stand. His heart cried out as the guilt and fear was building inside of him. He had hurt one of people he swore to protect...but who was going to protect them from him? This was too much!

“Hey now Virg, don't make that kind of face. I’m okay see!” Patton motioned to his slumped over body. How was that okay? “Besides I know you didn’t mean it. It was just an accident.”

Virgil shook his head, “No Pat I hurt you, like really hurt you! I need you to stay away from me for a bit while whatever ���this’ is passes.”

Patton frowned, “I will do no such thing big man! You’re the one who needs our help the most right now and I’ll be healed up in no time!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt again. If you haven’t noticed each growth is bigger than the last and it always comes in two’s”

Virgil’s tone was cold as he could feel another surge coming. He backed away from the facility to give himself room. This was miserable, why was this happening to him? These thoughts cluttered his mind as he watched the buildings and people around him grow smaller and smaller. His towering frame rumbling the ground as he now stood at 100 feet. Now he really couldn’t fit inside the facility he huffed desperately wanting to lie down.

Carefully, he shifted his weight to at least get down on his knees to wait for himself to shrink back down. Guess thinking about it wasn’t what caused it to happen last time after all. Logan had returned shocked to see Virgil had grown to bigger heights and that Patton was clinging on to Roman. “What happened here?”

“Oh Lo, it’s nothing!”

Both Roman and Logan shot the sweet boy a look of, really?

With a scowl Logan motioned to Patton’s current posture, “This doesn't look like nothing Patton.”

A sad smile crept up on Patton’s face as he turned back towards Virgil. “It wasn’t his fault, but when we got outside Virgil had another fit and grew instantly.” Patton paused as his chest tightened, “I um….I got caught underneath his hand and pressed down into the ground. I couldn’t help but scream. It hurt so much!”

Finally he spoke his mind as Patton started breaking down in tears. Oh man, he was being a big crybaby today. This whole situation was so stressful. Logan shivered at the thought, but quieted his mind as he looked Patton over again. While his natural healing was taking its time, Patton showed no signs of cracking.

“I suppose Virgil was upset with himself and that’s why he’s now away from you both and mopping?”

“Yeah, the giant storm cloud is waiting patiently for the gates to open.” Logan had no idea what that meant as he sighed, “Once he’s shrunk back down we should head over to him. Whether he likes it or not we’re going to be there for him.”

Roman and Patton both nodded in agreement. Virgil couldn’t get rid of them that easily!

Finally he thought as Virgil felt his core calming down. Quickly, his shrunken body fell to the ground. This time he was ready as he caught himself with his hands as he jumped towards the facility doors in an attempt to hurry inside. I say attempt because he missed completely. “FUCK!”

“Here kiddo, let us get that for you.” Slowly, the door to salvation opened and he was once again lifted up by his helpful friends. “You guys….” Virgil didn’t know what to say to this stubborn bunch anymore. Gingerly, he was placed on the massive mound of blankets and pillows the robots had gathered for him. Right now it felt like he was on a giant cloud as he laid his weary head down. His fever was spiking again as his body pulsed wanting to stretch.

“You all may want to step back a bit. I can feel another surge coming and I couldn’t bear it if I hurt any more of you.”

Understanding Virgil’s pleas, the trio took shelter up stairs on the balcony so they could watch as he expanded violently to 250 feet. The ceiling smacked his face as he placed his hands up against it. “Hope this works,” he mumbled.

Miraculously, the facility too began to enlarge to give him a lot more space. How did he do that, the three wondered? “Virgil! Wha-what was that?”

Panting the giant turned to his tiny companions with a pleased smirk on his face. “Recently I started thinking back to the first time I grew in here and how there was no way I could still fit inside at 1000 feet. So I did some experimenting of my own and found out I can shift non-living objects. That’s why my clothes don’t rip whenever I grow.” A collective ‘Oh’ could be heard from the tiny group. Why had they never questioned that before?

“You guys look so dumb right now.” He laughed, his booming voice softly rattling his surroundings.

“That’s amazing Virgil!” Patton was the first to pipe up with enthusiasm. He’s body had fully healed itself and he was peppy as ever now!

Virgil froze, he still wasn’t sure how to act around Patton. Sure he looked fine, but was he really? He decided to take a chance and reached out towards the little sweetie. To his bewilderment Patton didn’t flinch at all, but instead lept gleefully into his hand. Carefully, Virgil brought Patton to his chest and placed him on top.

“Patton, are you okay?” Virgil large eyes peering down at him with a solemn expression.

He knew Virgil would want a serious answer so Patton took a deep breath, “I am.”

Virgil didn’t look convinced. “Or...I am now. Before I was really scared and it hurt a lot, but you need to know that wasn’t your fault Virg. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, you’d never do something like that on purpose.”

Lying down Patton could clearly hear Virgil’s heartbeat as his body was lifted up and down to the rhythm of his breathing. This is nice he thought as he kissed the pounding chest. Virgil moaned a bit at the feeling of Patton’s lips pressed against him. The fever was getting to him again as he placed both hands over his little buddy for protection. Per usual he began to grow rapidly, continuing to fill up the space as he stopped at 500 feet.

Virgil groaned as his fever wasn’t going down and his growth wasn’t stopping. “Shit,” he whimpered, continuing to shield Patton in his colossal hands. Spontaneously, the giant shot up all the way to his limit of 1000. His feet pressed against the door begging to bust out of their container and the walls creaked. Virgil was sadly too worn out to expand his surroundings again. The two tinies left on the balcony grew concerned and hopped off, landing on the titan’s shoulder.

They could feel the immense heat radiating from their friend’s enormous body, but their tensions dropped at the sight of Virgil sweating profusely. It would appear his fever had broken as he huffed loudly from exhaustion. He could feel his friends moving about his person and remained still as not to jostle them about. Virgil was relieved to have his family there with him. He could feel his body slowly start to shrink back down.

“It appears his fever’s broken and the worst of this has passed.”

“Yeah, but we still have no idea what ‘this’ even was!” Roman protested.

“Indeed. Once we’ve all reached the ground again I’ll call over one of my scanner bots to take a new reading. It wasn’t able to collect anything during Virgil’s episode due to how random his spurts were.”

Gradually, Virgil down-sized steadily as the others on his chest slide off the sides of his body to continue watching curiously. The shrinking behemoth shivered with each drop in size. Finally he returned to normal completely exhausted on the heap of blankets and pillows beneath him. His limbs stretched out, free from the previous tension of the facility walls. Straight away Patton ran to Virgil and held him in his arms overcome with worry.

“Virgil, oh my gosh kiddo are you okay now?” How do you feel, do you need anything?” he continued to ramble on like this to Virgil’s amusement.

Moving his hand to stroke Patton’s face, he whispered, “I’m doing alright now. The fever is almost gone and my strength is returning. I’m sorry if I scared you earlier, but thanks for sticking by me.”

“Thank goodness!” In the spur of the moment Patton bent down. Virgil’s head was placed on the small sides lap as he planted a kiss on his sweetheart’s lips.

Surprised, Virgil blushed deeply as he let himself be swept up in the moment. Patton was so soft and tasted kind of sweet as they continued to lock lips. Eventually, Patton released his hold on the boy and smiled shyly down at him. That was amazing!

*cough* *cough*

Oh that’s right, there was an audience looking over them! Roman was flushed as he remembered his first same sized kiss with Virgil in his room. Logan on the other hand was not entertained by the show as he adjusted his glasses.

“Patton, please take a step back from Virgil so I may conduct an accurate scan.” Without hesitation Patton scurried backwards. He left the rest of ‘this’ to Logan.

Swiftly, one of Logan’s bots came over to scan Virgil’s body. Using his display pen he pulled from his breast pocket, Logan tapped the air and a hologram screen appeared. From the screen he read the results to himself. However, what he was looking at was groundbreaking!

“I-I can’t believe this...yo-you’ve restablized!”

Restabalized!? At just the mention of that word the others scrambled over to Logan’s side to sneak a peek. Virgil on the other hand was very confused.

“What in the world is restabilizing?”

“It’s a process I’ve only theorized about till now as a ‘what if’ scenario. It was one of many and the least fleshed at….meaning I had almost no data to go off of when constructing the idea. So to witness it in person is earth shattering!”

Logan’s entire body trembled at the possibilities of this new discovery.

“That doesn’t really answer my question though.” Virgil sighed as he lifted himself up.

His strength had returned enough to keep him upright sitting, but not standing. It was like he was in a completely new body he was learning how to control.

“What that means Virgil is your emotional core is now completely stable. This kind of thing shouldn’t ever happen again!”

“WAIT, is that true!?”

“It is kiddo, but it also means...you’re one of us now...a Light Side.”

A Light Side? Was he really now a Light Side? Is that why his body felt so foreign to him all of a sudden? Sure his outward appearance didn’t change, but inside he felt at peace with himself. This new enlightenment caused him to start sobbing with happiness.

“Oh Virgil!” Patton ran back to him for a warm embrace.

“Ah geez with the waterwork, and you call me a drama queen!” Roman teased as he joined in.

Logan faltered for a moment; he was not a hug guy, but it would appear this time he could make an exception. “Yes, yes congratulations.” He whispered kneeling down to add to the family pile.

There was so much love flowing into him he shifted in size to get a better grasp of everyone. His long arms reaching around all of them easily and pulling them up to his chest gleefully! This was the best kind of feeling he whispered in his heart. Still, there was a lot to figure out, but right now Virgil was in pure bliss.

To be continued.

@crystalk17​ @paranoidgurl​ @gentlegiantdreamer​ @suckedinfandoms​ @craz-ewaters​ @rainbowbowtie​ @pattonvirglsanders​ @enby-phoenix​ @sanders-sides-virgil​ @just-some-gt-trash​ @notkolaidoscop​ @bluegreeninbtwn​ @lgbtqiaemo​ @avenirunknown​ @ncanspeak​ @maryann-draws​ @himeperson @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare​ @daydreamburritoworld​ 

#mass emotions ts #sanders sides #gt #g/t #gt angst #gt fluff #patton #roman #logan #virgil #moxiety #patton x virgil #virgil x patton #sanders sides g/t #sanders sides gt #gt sanders sides #g/t sanders sides #sander sides #thomas sanders #giant #tiny #giant sides #tiny sides #tsart #giant sketches #giant sketch #giant and tiny #tiny kiss #sick tw #fever tw

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 3 

–> Pairings: kim seokjin x reader; jeon jungkook x reader

–> Rating:  R

–> Genre/warnings:   implications of insomnia; implied infidelity; slight depictions of death of mc; slight angst; fluffy FLUff; humor  smut (y/n is such a horndog tbh or maybe the author is too wink wonk; pool sex; masturbation; dom jk undertones; slight switch!jk too sHIt; fingering; voyeurism; unprotected sex; exhibitionism; fingering; boob play kookie jus like dem boobies mkay; thigh riding)

–> Word count: 10.4k

–> A/N: This has less drama and more dialogues than the previous chapters bc we all needed a break from all the angsty angst AMIRITE? Anywho, as usual Korean vocab used will be placed at the end of the chapter. TELL ME WHATCHA YALL THINK PEOPLE shsfskdjf

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 3

With the Chuseok Festival just around the corner, the palace is practically buzzing, palace workers out and about the hanoks. You had also busied yourself with your own responsibilities and those of Seokjin’s. It’s been a fortnight since he’s left, and you’re partly thankful that the preparations for the festivities are constantly occupying your mind enough during the day so you don’t worry much about your husband.

Your days now consists of council meetings, classes with the children of the capitol, kitchen checks, palace inspections, village hearings. The list was endless. Admittedly, you had become less amiable as the days pass by, most likely from the doubled amount of responsibility you now have on your hands. It doesn’t help either that the people supposedly helping you with your duties are mostly useless. Just like the so-called ‘royal council’.

You had called for a council meeting today to raise your apprehension towards the new taxes imposed on your people. Needless to say, the meeting went terribly. Now you truly understood Seokjin’s distress after council meetings. And to think that was just the first agenda you had for the day. Just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get worse than speaking with selfish men, a guard suddenly reports to you that a corner of the kitchen had caught fire and that some citizens had caused another riot at a neighboring village.

You were already nursing a nasty headache by the time you had finished lunch. After a particularly stressful day like such, you had decided to retire to bed earlier than usual, skipping supper and your afternoon agenda for your much-needed rest.

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting heavily as you abruptly sit up in your bed. Your eyes look around, taking in your surroundings. It was just a nightmare. You begin to sob, emotions rolling off you in waves.

“Guards!” you call weakly, hoping they will hear you through your sobs.  A few more cries and a royal guard, Yunho bursts through the door. “Jungjeon-mama!” he calls as he takes in your distressed state, running towards your bed.

“Lee…Astron…Lee…” the words fade on your lips.  

Jungkook is the last thing you see before blacking out.

When you wake, eyes adjusting to the lack of light in the room, you see Astonomer Lee reading a book on your left and Jungkook sleeping soundly on a bench to your right. “Jungjeon-mama,” Astronomer Lee’s voice is soft as he notices you’ve awakened. You attempt to sit up, but a raging headache is royally preventing you from doing so.

“Careful, Mama. The royal physician does not recommend you getting up from bed anytime soon. You need to rest.”

It’s just a mere headache, you contest inwardly, but for the sake of it, you stop yourself from voicing out your argument. Instead, you rest your weight on your elbows and ask for Minho’s assistance in placing the rest of your pillows behind your back to elevate your torso for more convenience.

Another snore escapes from the man on your right catching both your attention. Jungkook’s neck is precariously bent forward, his chin already touching his collarbones. “Minho, could you please…” the astronomer thankfully doesn’t require any further instruction, scuttling to the other side of your bed to help Jungkook lie down on the bench he’d fallen asleep on.

“The Captain had been fighting sleep ever since you fainted earlier tonight, scolding everyone that tried to tell him to get back to his quarters but the poor lad fell asleep the moment I got here.” Minho chuckles, adjusting Jungkook’s position on the bench. The latter reaches his hands out, arms swatting Minho away who’s currently struggling with his task.

“Must…queen…awake,” the younger one mumbles in broken sentences, still blindly pushing the struggling astronomer away. By the time Minho finally manages to lay the captain down, you’re already in tears, your hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your laughter despite the tiny whirlwind in your head.

The fatigued astronomer returns to his seat after completing the arduous task while you reach for the steaming cup of tea sat on your bedside table. You take a whiff, letting the steam reach and fill your nose with the aroma. Ah, Taehyung’s signature brew. The royal physician has relatives from the east that own a tea farm, so Taehyung gets his leaves delivered fresh from the city of agriculture and brews the tea himself – one which the palace keeps in abundance, due to its taste and medicinal benefits.

“You’ve called for me earlier, my queen?”

Minho’s question drowns out the thoughts in your head. “Ah, yes.” A cold shiver runs through your spine as you recall the reason why you woke earlier during the night. “I had quite the nightmare earlier…” you start, “…I was hoping seeking your counsel would ease me of my troubles.”

“I will try my best, Jungjeon-mama.”

“You have my gratitude, Astronomer Lee. But first, I must rise, for my stomach is complaining.”

“Jungjeon-mama. I can’t let you do that. Taehyung strongly insists that you rest, I-“ You look at him, unamused. He stops mid-sentence, knowing there was no point in trying to convince you to do otherwise. “Don’t play innocent now, Minho. As if you weren’t sneaking hangwa off our table when you said you were feeling unwell during the new lunar year celebration.” The scholar chokes on his tea at your comment. “Don’t worry, I’m glad you like my recipe,” you add as you pat him lightly on the shoulders, causing the young astronomer’s cheeks to redden.

“Wangbi, what about the captain?” Minho questions, pointing to the younger man who’s still snoring away happily, face squished against the wooden seat.

“He’ll be fine. Come on, a hungry queen is a grumpy queen.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here, Mama.” Minho mumbles behind you, trying not to tug at the sleeves of your jeogori too hard. You both know he’s breaking royal protocol by touching you like this, albeit indirectly, but you don’t mind, not when his cowardice is starting to affect you as well, mumbling about tales of never-before-recorded creatures that lurk in the night.

You had forgotten to take a lamp with you at your haste to succumb to your hunger, and now you’re both suffering the consequences of your lack of preparedness. With darkness blanketed over the palace and the strong winds blowing, most of the candles inside the lampposts had burned out, only adding to your unnecessary fear. The thin fog surrounding the roofs of the hanoks were of no help either.

“Aren’t you supposed to be fond of the dark, ‘cause it’s when the stars are most visible?” You can feel Minho pursing his lips from behind you. “I only enjoy it when I’m actually outside in the field, or inside my office, with a lamp by my side,” the astronomer answers, pulling at your sleeve a little too hard when he hears a small noise nearby.

When you finally reach the kitchen, Minho breaths a sigh of relief, lighting up the nearby lamp by the entrance. As you raise the lamp to rack the shelves for a few snacks, you accidentally knock over cup from a low shelf, the contents pouring over an open teapot. “Oh!”

The astronomer jumps at the sound, quickly moving closer to you. “Mama! What was that? Do we have an intruder?” You calm him down, assuring him that there was nobody else in the kitchen. Having to lift the teapot as you wipe the spill, your nose catches on this certain aroma coming from the tiny vessel – a mixture that vaguely smells of Taehyung’s tea and…milk.

You bring the vessel closer to your nose this time, realizing that the pleasant smell was coming from the teapot. Brimming with curiosity, you grab the cup that toppled over and poured in a small amount of the concoction. Hoping that it tastes as good as it smells, you bring the cup to your mouth and try your accidentally discovery. You’re genuinely surprised at how it turned out to be, pouring more and sharing the same with Minho who’s already busy filling his mouth with biscuits.

As you both head out of the dark kitchen, snacks on one hand and drinks on the other, you both decide to rest by the steps of a neighboring hanok. The full moon seems brighter and bigger than usual – believed to be determinative of good luck, but you can’t ignore the unsettling feeling in your gut.

“What’s troubling you, Jungjeon-mama?”

“I had a nightmare earlier. It had the same full moon like tonight. Darkness has enveloped the whole palace, Seokjin and I were walking in our garden, just like the usual and as we were talking underneath the cherry tree, a snake slithers around a branch and suddenly attacks me. I don’t remember what happens after that but the next thing I knew Seokjin was in battle and for some reason I couldn’t come near him or help him at least, and somebody plunges a sword-“ You choke on a sob, inhaling deeply as you continue your narrative.

“And…and he looked so helpless, Minho.” Weeping, the astronomer gently rests your head against his shoulder, rubbing your back gently to calm you down. “My poor Seokjin…my husband,” it’s physically painful trying to breathe, like your heart is being tugged in all directions, crushed, and squeezed all at the same time. Your head betrays you one more time with a vivid image of your husband on the ground, lifeless.

You had taken your rest after your talk with Minho and decided to continue your even if it was already late in the afternoon, trying to push away the images of your dead husband before your eyes. You hear the doors slide open, the sound of wood scraping against wood ringing in your ears, the noise momentarily breaking you from concentration. Didn’t you just order the guards to keep the surroundings quiet? Or more specifically, to not let anyone in?

Paying your unexpected visitor no mind, you continue reading your husband’s past proclamations. “Wangbi.” You recognize the voice instantly. “Yes Captain? What sort of national emergency brings you here?” As much as you genuinely enjoy the company of your mysterious, newly-found acquaintance at the palace, you had plenty to catch up to due to Seokjin’s, hopefully, temporary absence.

You keep your eyes trained on the letters in front of you, still nescient of the captain’s proximity. “I must apologize for disappointing you, Jungjeon-mama, but my unlikely visit at this time of the night is not warranted by an emergency on a national level, but of a personal one.” His final words catch your attention, but you continue your reading. “And must I be the one to resolve your personal whims?” You look up from your work, eyes widening a little at the sight of the captain dressed in commoners’ clothes.

“I assure you, my queen. They are not my own.” What does he mean by that? Surely, he can’t mean you. You don’t have personal emergencies, do you?

“Should I presume your choice of clothing is related to this ‘personal emergency’?”

Jungkook says nothing, instead he grins widely in reply. He bends forward to pick something up and you crane your neck a little to see what he’s brought. In his hands is a silk pouch, golden dragons embroidered on the purple cloth. He places the same next to your desk. “What are you up to Jung?” You ask him, totally confused by his actions.

“Mama, it would do me a great honor if you could open the bag.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then the emergency won’t be going away anytime soon, and for all you know, it could turn into a national one.”

“Need I remind you that you’re speaking to your queen?”

“Exactly why I’m giving you the choice if you want to open the bag or not, Jungjeon-mama.”

Doesn’t seem like it. With the way he speaks of the pouch, it seems as if you don’t have that much of a choice.  You narrow your eyes at him and revert them back to the pouch. “It’s getting late, Wangbi. I think it’s best for you to continue your reading tomorrow,” the captain adds a suggestion to his proposal, sliding the windows open to reveal the night sky dotted with stars.

“How am I supposed to know there is no animal inside?” He doesn’t answer one more time, just sending a toothy smile your way. You too are suppressing a grin, knowing you’re both reminiscing how just a few days ago, he’d successfully coaxed you into opening a box with a frog inside, shouting hysterically as the slimy animal jumps in your face as the whole class erupts in laughter at your reaction.

“Perhaps,” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “But see for yourself, Mama – the sun has already set and the darkness of the night is upon us.” For once today, you finally agree with someone. Heaving a deep sigh, you set the scrolls aside for tomorrow and reach for the bag to place it on your desk.

Under Jungkook’s watchful eyes, you gingerly check the pouch – sniffing, poking, prodding, and attempting to hear what sort of object, or creature, might be inside. The captain resists the urge to laugh at how you warily pry the bag. His chest constricts at the sight, your childlike innocence this very moment too adorable for his heart. He hopes that this moment will last forever, that you find wonder in the simplest of things and rid yourself of the sadness clouding your heart.

You untie the knot with no hurry, fingers still holding the two ends of the cloth together just in case something from the inside tries to jump on you again. Once you deem it certain that no animal is inside, you gently open the package. Neatly folded commoners’ clothes similar to Jungkook’s choice of clothes are sitting inside the bag.

“What am I to do with this?” you ask, taking out the garments that are of the same colors as the captain’s.

“Uh, wear it perhaps?” The man retorts, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Now is not the time to fool me, Captain. I know what you’re supposed to do with clothes. Now, tell me why do I have to wear this?”

“Because we’re going to visit the city – your city!”

“Excuse me? Not at this time of the night! I still have-”

“Please, Jungjeon-mama? If I’m not mistaken, this was included in one of your plans anyway! And you really look like you need a break from taking over the king’s duties, on top of your own. I assure you; we will only be the two people who shall know of this!” He whispers the last words conspiratorially, like he’s telling you something that is tantamount to committing treason.

You can’t deny that he’s made a valid point. Now that you’re in charge of the whole palace, your responsibilities had doubled in number and you rarely had time to just take a breather, your days and nights spent working and attending to your duties. Without further encouragement from the captain, you push him out of the room, telling him that you have to change first.

Jungkook does a victory dance at your affirmation, swaying his hips from side to side as he scurries towards the door, reassuring you that he’ll be waiting outside and that you will not regret this choice. You sure hope you won’t.

With the amount of time you’ve spent with him recently, you had discovered plenty of things about the captain: that he has the eye for the arts, that he completely adores children, and that he is definitely one to think on impulse. Jungkook would do anything that suddenly pops up in his mind, regardless of what the outcome of his actions might be. You realize that was the defining trait that definitely makes Jungkook and Haesoo look great together.

Once you slide the doors open, the captain places a finger on his mouth, silently ordering you to stay quiet. You nod, following Jungkook as he walks on the tip of his toes, wincing when his next step makes the wood below him creak. He looks back at you with a funny face that almost made you laugh out loud, reprimanding him with a light slap on his arm, shushing him.

After having traversed almost halfway across the entire palace, you had one last hanok to cross before reaching Jungkook’s supposed ‘secret passage’ by the west gates. The captain peeks his head from a corner, checking any surrounding guards by the small open space while you rest your back against a lamppost.

“It’s clear, Mama.”

You join him where he’s stood, watching the same guards he’d been observing just now. With your shoulders almost touching, the captain is now fully conscious of your current proximity, his breathing getting shallower by the second. The captain hadn’t really expected you to say yes, and now that you’re here with him, he’s practically jumping in excitement, completely giddy at the fact that you’re spending time with him out of your official duties.

He’d initially meant to go with Haesoo tonight, but had lied to her that he’s been feeling unwell all day and wanted to get some good night’s rest. Now you’re here by his side, sneaking through the guards, as guilt eats at him for lying to such a sweet girl like Haesoo. What Jungkook won’t openly admit though is that spending time alone with you seems to alleviate the guilt he feels for his misdeed to another.

The captain glances sideways to glimpse at you. How is it that you always manage to be effortlessly beautiful? Even when you’re in your royal garments, in commoners’ clothes like tonight, or even without clothes, you always seem to have this aura that simply magnetizes people towards you, no matter what the time, place, or occasion may be.

He wasn’t – isn’t – supposed to develop feelings for you – not for a married woman, and especially not for the queen of Korea. This wasn’t part of the mission. He hadn’t gone through so much in the past just for his plans to ricochet at him like this. Was he really willing to throw away all those years of training just because his heart was always beating faster than usual around you?

Jungkook shakes his head as if to rid himself of his thoughts of self-doubt. He turns his head to look at you at look and puts a smile on his face. “Ready, Mama?” he reaches his hand out for you to take which you accept gladly as he informs you that you both had to run across the open square to reach the secret passage.

The captain gulps when you slip your soft, small hand into his. There’s a small part of him that suddenly regrets his offer, the small action seemingly seeping him further into the fatal void of his emotions. But, undeniably, there’s that larger part of his conscience that celebrates during moments like these with you – his heart triumphs once again.

He can’t fail this mission, not when he’s so close to finishing it. But the more he tries to concentrate, the more he falls and it’s so difficult to accomplish something when his heart and his brain are constantly at war with each other, even if they’re fighting over the same thing.

Jungkook counts to three and you two bolt from the corner of the hanok and run towards the trees. Halfway through the square, one of the guards catches you and orders you two to halt at once. “Quickly!” Jungkook whispers, giving you a hand with carrying your skirt so you could run faster. As the guard sprints after you, you run as fast as your feet could carry you until the both of you reach the bushes and hide beneath the thick shrubs.  

The both of you hide beneath the shrubs, breathless. When the guard arrives at the spot he’d thought you two were supposed to be, he finds no traces of you or any other intruder lurking around, the guard goes back to his post. You let out a huge breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding back for so long.

When you realize you still had your hands intertwined with Jungkook, you release yourself from his grip gently, dismissing the awkwardness in the air with a small cough. You let yourself fall onto a nearby heap of leaves, letting out a breathy laugh. Jungkook soon joins you on the heap, laughing along.

“I haven’t run like that in such a long time!” you squeal, clapping your hands in excitement. Jungkook revels in your enthusiasm as he pushes himself from the heap. “Where to now?” As you finish dusting yourself off, Jungkook looks at you expectantly. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning for us to go over the wall.”

“I promise you, it’s safe, Jungjeon-mama.”

“How would you know that?! I don’t even see a ladder here for us to use!” Your shoulders slump and you slowly back away. “No, no, no, no! We’ll be fine!” reassures Jungkook, attempting to calm your agitation due to the literal obstacle in front of you.

“Wangbi, look, it’s not even that high, see?” The captain pushes his back against the wall and uses his hand to compare his height to the brick partition. There may be a relatively small difference, the wall being approximately a head higher than Jungkook, but the captain easily towers over you, so how exactly does he suppose you to reach all the way to the top?

You look at him like he’s eaten your expensive collection ceramic bowls for breakfast. Maybe he’s had too much milk tea to drink? You’d learned that he’s enjoyed your newly-discovered concoction way more than others in the palace. Perhaps the mixture didn’t yield as much benefits as you initially thought it was? You make a mental note to lessen the frequency of the production of your specialty drink.

You think this through one last time. All this trouble would have been for nothing if you’ll decide retire to your room now. Plus, you badly wanted to see the Chuseok preparations going on outside the palace. You let your fingers rub heavily against your forehead, weighing the possible outcome of sneaking out of the palace in the middle of the night.

You take one look at Jungkook, who’s silently pleading you to continue your journey with his titillating doe-like eyes, then you let your eyes linger over to the wall and what sort of sight it might hide beneath it. You let out an exasperated sigh, knowing that the captain has once again triumphed in dragging you to his acts of impulsiveness.

“Captain Jung Jungkook, you will be the death of me.”

The captain claps his hands with an intense amount of vigor at your statement. He doesn’t falter even with the look of aggravation on your face. You gasp inwardly, maybe he found out where you hid your secret vessel of makgeolli in the kitchen and drank it all for himself! That little bast-

“Come on now, I’ll lift you up.” Jungkook laces his fingers together, hands forming a makeshift pedestal for you to step on. He lowers his knees for your convenience and bows curtly, gesturing you to come closer.

Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you ease a foot onto his woven hands. He lifts you up with no trouble and you latch onto the top of the wall, swinging your legs over one at a time, eventually perching yourself on top of the brick panel. “See that wasn’t so hard after all, right Mama?” Jungkook should be grateful he doesn’t see you roll your eyes.

Jungkook, on the other hand, agile body and all, practically springs from the ground and hooks his hands easily on the wall, jumps over the partition and lands gracefully on the other side with ease. “How did you manage to do that?!” Your still at awe at his dexterity, eyes wide at the realization that he’d done such a strenuous feat without exerting much effort. “Tell me, Jung Jungkook, were you a thief at some point in your life? A bandit perhaps?”

The captain chortles at your sudden judgment. “No, I wasn’t, Mama. But you’d have a lot of training when you live in a pala-“Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly, “w-when you live in a place where there are plenty of walls to climb over.” He’s grateful when you don’t notice the slip in his words. “Now what do I do?” You tap your fingers at your thighs, anxious about what might happen next. You look around. There doesn’t seem to be some spot soft enough for you to land on.

“Jump. I’ll catch you, Jungjeon-mama.”

Once again, you find yourself questioning your life decisions. Perhaps you were the one who had too much milk tea to drink? You’ve never even tried, not even once, tried sneaking out of the palace like this before and now here you were, a grown, married woman, climbing over a wall at nighttime like it’s some daily chore.

As you push yourself off the brick wall, a villager shouts something in your direction, making Jungkook look away from you the same time you jump. You instantly close your eyes in fear, yelling out the captain’s name as you fall.

When Jungkook manages to catch you in his arms, you recite prayers of gratitude to your ancestors for having blessed Jungkook with vigilance, that is, until he falls backward, losing his stepping on a small stone with your startling leap, the sound of his back hitting the ground muffled by the soil beneath him.

As you pry your eyes open, you find out your face is almost touching his. The captain’s usually inquisitive face is contorted into one of grimace because of the pain. You shamelessly take advantage of this opportunity to gawk at the faded scar that sparked your curiosity more than you can admit.

You shuffle on your feet as the proximity of your faces finally dawns on you, your faces so near to each other that you feel his warm breathing fanning your cheeks. “Sorry, Jungkook,” you blurted out, sitting on your knees as you gently shake him by the shoulders.

Panic arises from you when he doesn’t budge at your prodding, especially now that you’re shaking his body with a reasonable amount of fervor, your eyes already brimming with tears. You don’t see his chest moving, nor do you feel any breathing under his nose or mouth. He couldn’t possibly have died from that could he?! Checking your surroundings, you look for something that might have caused damage during his landing. “Jungkook! Wake up, please!” you let your head fall to his chest as you feel a single droplet of tear roll down your cheek.

“Aww, are those tears for me, Mama?” the captain coos, eyes twinkling with mirth under the moonlight.

Your head shoots up in surprise. “Y-yes!” you stammer out, trying not to show any other expression other than annoyance on your face. “And for the record, those were tears of joy because I thought the only person in this world who makes me do the most ridiculous things has finally breathed his last!”

Instead of being threatened by your indignation, he doubles in laughter, body quaking as he does. You quietly stand there watching him, and soon enough when the captain notices your silence, he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth to stop his amusement. He shuffles to his feet and bows from his waist. “My deepest apologies, Jungjeon-mama. I did not mean to worry you.”

When he looks up, he sees your face just as stoic as your stance, guilt eats at him and he starts to fidget with his fingers. “If- if you’d like to go back-“

“Ha!” Jungkook jumps at your exclamation, your hands clasped together in delight. “How does it like being fooled now, hmm?” he pouts at the sight of your face, your perfectly shaped brow taunting him as he bows again.

“You’re scary, Jungjeon-mama,” the captain grumbles, kicking at a few fallen leaves.

“And so I’ve been told. Come on now! You’ve still got plenty to show me, and the night is still young!” As you tug on his sleeves, the smile that etches on Jungkook’s face is as warm as his heart, your eagerness way to infectious for him to ignore your pleas.

The two of you wander through the streets of the village just outside the capitol’s palace, in awe of the hustle and bustle of the villagers’ Chuseok preparations. Well, you for the most part. The captain had just discovered that this was you first time to witness festival preparations outside the palace. He isn’t surprised though, as he knew each city’s palace is equally as busy as yours during the festival, so he hadn’t wondered how you had never gotten out during the festivities.

Your facial expressions are nothing short of wonder, Jungkook notices, as you practically marvel at everything, like a little girl seeing a doll for the first time. The captain trails behind you silently as you move from one side of the dirt road to the other. You occasionally bump into some villagers on the way who complain about your walking, which unnecessarily alerts the captain side of Jungkook, ready to fight anyone who dare messes with the queen, with his queen.

Jungkook watches as a halmeoni merchant’s stall catches your eyes, orbs widening in marvel when you take a closer look at the accessories she’s put on display on a table. The old lady watches Jungkook’s eyes trained on you fill in with adoration as you check nearly every single piece of hairpin on the rickety piece of wood. She wants to coo at the sight, but she doesn’t want to ruin the moment, so she quietly beckons Jungkook to come closer.

She reaches a slightly shaky hand out, gesturing for the captain to give her his palm. She hands him an earth-colored hairpin with a pink flower situated on top. “Give this to her,” she whispers, voice trembling as much as her hand. “To whom?” the young man replies, looking around for the girl the old lady is pertaining to.

“Silly boy,” she extends a hand and pinches his ear, “to her, of course, the girl you love over there,” the old lady motions to you, who’s still busy being enamored by the jade hairpins. “O-oh, we…we’re not…” the halmeoni dismisses him with a wave. “Go on now.”

As the captain takes a step towards you, you turn around, showing him the green hairpin you’ve clipped beside your ear. “Kookie! How does it look?”

He’s momentarily stunned at your nickname you’d called him – a nickname he’s been called exclusively by one person only during his childhood – the same person who’s calling him Kookie tonight, even with the number of years that had passed.

“Kook-“ your words falter as you see the hairpin the captain holds in his hands, captivated by its beauty. “It’s a carnation,” the old lady points out nodding her head towards the accessory you’ve now taken from Jungkook’s grasp. She continues speaking, “they say it’s the queen’s favorite flowers and…” her voice comes down to a whisper, “…rumor has it that the king has tended a garden full of carnations just for her, what a truly lovely man the king is… but don’t tell anyone that!”

Your chest constricts at the mention of your husband, whose presence you yearn for the most. You wish he was here to witness the festivities outside the palace not as royalty but as commoners, just like you and Jungkook tonight.

“It’s beautiful, halmeoni,” you say, touching the pink carnation settled on top of the pin. “Take it, please.” The old lady offers but you decline, telling her that you didn’t bring any coins with you as payment. Jungkook reaches for a few from the pouch tied to his pants but the old lady won’t have it, insisting that she give it to you for free.

“You’ve got the face and the heart of queen, young lady. Take it as a gift from one grandmother to her beautiful grandchild.”

Giving her a bow of gratitude in return for her kind words and the lovely gift, the captain helps you attach the hairpin on your head. The both of you greet the halmeoni with a happy Chuseok and she responds with her own best wishes for the both of you.

As you walk away from her stall, Jungkook notices the loneliness lingering in your eyes. He won’t allow you to be sad now, not when he’s brought you here to be the opposite, so he speaks up, avoiding touching the subject of your husband to mollify your emotions.

“So…Kookie?”

“Oh sorry about that. I just thought it would have been strange if I called you Captain, or Jung…” That he understood, Jungkook doesn’t know what could have possibly turned out of a situation where you blew both your covers.

“But Kookie?”

“I…It’s just that you remind of a friend I had during my childhood who was called that, or at least, that’s what I called him. You know, it’s strange that I actually never knew his real name, or who his family was, or where he truly lived. We had met in the woods once when I got lost trying to follow a butterfly and he helped me back to the palace that afternoon. All I knew was that he told me to call him Kookie, so there’s that,” you shrug as you glimpse at Jungkook, whose facial expression looks like he warrants more explanation.

“Since then, Kookie and I would meet at the same spot he’d found me during the afternoon and we would talk, or rather, I would talk and Kookie would just listen to me talk. On other days we would just play until the court ladies would call me back and we’d have to part ways again.”

“Ah, he was a good listener and a good friend too…Kookie. One day, he just didn’t show up, and I waited there in our old spot the whole day. But he never came, nor did he arrive on the next day, or the day after that. I miss him sometimes, you know? I miss having friends. Occasionally, I wonder how he’s doing, what he’s grown up to be, if he has a family, or children even! It’s a shame really that I never really got to know his real name… for all we know, he could’ve been a Jungkook too, or a Jikook, or a Taekook, or a Namkook, or a Yoonkook!” Jungkook laughs at your endless combinations. “Ah, if I only knew his name, I would have already invited him over for supper at the palace…”

The captain nods absentmindedly, your sentiments reeling in his mind. You were there that day, you waited for him. The captain wanted to sing in joy. In fact, he even more elated that you remember. You remember him. He thinks to himself, ‘Oh Jungjeon-mama, Kookie is closer to you than you will have ever imagined.’

Exhaling as you rest your head against the edge of the pool, you move your focus from the task at hand to the wooden ceiling. You miss Seokjin terribly. It’s been far too long without his touch.

Whether it be a quick relief from the stresses that root from ruling a nation, or sensual moments of intimacies like the night before he’d left, you had a particularly sexually active lifestyle with Seokjin and now with your husband away, the reality of his absence has finally taken its toll on you. You used to wonder how your husband had his libido up and running no matter what the occasion, but he’d always counter with you being far too desirable to resist his primal urges. Now that he’s away, your struggling with the thoughts of missing Seokjin, and dealing with an even greater struggle of trying to pleasure yourself.

With another exhale, you close your eyes as you sink your torso farther down where you’re seated on the pool steps. Your fingers find the sensitive nether bud between your legs, imagining it was Seokjin’s fingers ghosting over your body and not yours. When his face comes into view beneath your closed eyelids, you slide your hands across your chest, your palms knead the supple flesh of your breast. You let the hardened nub of your nipple get tweaked and twisted between your two fingers.

Once again, the royal captain finds himself in another compromising situation. He doesn’t know how long he’s been hiding behind the post with your back facing him, his eyes watching your third failed attempt today at pleasuring yourself.

Earlier this afternoon, as you had retired to your bedroom to take some rest, he heard a moan slip from within. He thought he was mistaken by another questionable noise and tried to shake it off, thinking that his hearing might’ve inevitably worsened after watching over the royal band that rehearsed in the palace’s square the day before. However, as another whimper reached his ears, he knew he wasn’t mistaken this time around, so he ordered the guards situated inside the hanok to do their rounds outside.

Unfortunately, he knew his orders were called a little bit too late as Chaeyoung slides your doors open just as he was about to stop her, and they had both found you on your bed, the covers lazily draped across your body as your hands worked between your spread legs. The pair poorly averted their gazes as Jungkook scurries to close the doors at your orders.

The captain remains still as he watches you from behind. Even with your back facing him, he can vividly picture out what you look like right now, as if he’d just been taken back to the night he watched with sick fascination you and Seokjin in middle of lovemaking. He badly wants to help you with your predicament – the king’s parting words ringing in his head.

“Captain Jung?” Seokjin calls out to the younger man, who’s busy with the final checks on the straps of the saddle atop the king’s white steed.

“Jeonha?”

“Come walk with me.”

The captain is confused by the king’s sudden call for his presence but he complies nonetheless. Seokjin takes a few steps forward, waiting for Jungkook. When the latter catches up, Seokjin begins talking, glancing sideways at the captain.

“I am leaving the security of the capitol in your hands, Captain Jung. I expect that you will protect the city with your life, just like I have. During these trying times, the country needs a protector – someone who will give them security even when nothing is seemingly going right.”

“Yes, Jeonha. You have my word.”

“Also, I knew you were there, you know.”

“Jeonha?” The captain repeats, baffled by the king’s words, absolutely clueless as to what the king was pertaining to. “I knew you were there last night, Jungkook. Outside our room.” The captain visibly pales at Seokjin’s statement, but the former keeps his silence as he racks his brain for an appropriate response. Seokjin hears Jungkook’s profuse apologies next, penitence evident in the captain’s every mention of ‘sorry’.

“I admire the genuineness behind your confession. And that’s why I need you to do one more thing.”

“Anything you ask of, my King.”

“I need you to take care of my wife.”

“Of course, Jeonha.”

“No, no… What I mean is I need you to be there for her. This journey I have to take…it’s too risky, too much peril is involved in this mission that I honestly don’t think I’ll make it out alive.” Seokjin feels lighter at his confession, like some heavy weight has been taken off his shoulders.

“I need you to be there when she needs someone to talk to, when she needs someone to eat with, when she needs an honest opinion on something, when she needs me. My wife… she is very headstrong and independent – traits that I admire most about our queen. But at the end of the day, behind the façade of her unwillingness to yield to anything that is possibly beyond her control, she is but my wife – a woman who needs her husband, just as much as I need her.”

“I know you and I both share the same degree of affection towards _______.” Jungkook opens his mouth to speak, but Seokjin beats him to it. “Understand that I am one with your emotions. It’s alright. I am but a man too, you know, after you strip off the crown and the royal garments,” the king remarks, “Surely, you witnessed that too last night. Must’ve been a spectacle,” Seokjin adds, letting out a small whistle, without forgetting to attach a roguish wink at the end of his sentence towards Jungkook, who shies under the older man’s gaze.

“Sorry for my lack of formalities, Jungkook. It must be my wife’s secret stash of makgeolli speaking, but don’t tell her that! I was asking a personal favor from you anyways, from one friend to another. So… will you comply with my request?”

“O-Of course, my King. I’ll do my best, but please understand that I have no intentions of interfering with your relationship. The queen is a married woman after all…I mean…she’s married to you, Jeonha! I couldn’t possibly compare myself to what you have provided for her.” Jungkook is still unable to grasp the absurdity of it all. Yes, nearly every word the King said is without a doubt laced with nothing but the truth. But he still doesn’t understand what the King trust him with such great task.

Does Seokjin even know who he truly is?

Sure, the king is well aware of his feelings towards you, but was that enough? Does Seokjin trust him that much? If Seokjin only knew who he truly was, would the king even let him stand in the same room as his wife? Let alone attend to her…private needs?

“The moment I had planned of this journey, I had already accepted the consequences of what I am to do. I understand, and she will eventually understand. She always does.”

The captain continues contemplating behind the post. This is wrong, on so many levels. He isn’t even supposed to be in the royal baths now, but the rumored news he had just heard from an informant absolutely warrants your attention. At the same time, he feels a strong calling to help you with your present helplessness. Rumors be damned.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“Can I help you with anything, Mama?” Jungkook is relieved as his voice comes out less shaky than he anticipated.

You’re shocked beyond belief at the voice that comes from behind you, nearly losing your footing on the pool steps. “Jungkook! What are you doing here?!” You pant, covering your chest even if they’re barely visible under your milk bath. Regret fills you as you stare at your forlorn robe, too far away to sheath yourself with at least an ounce of modesty.

Jungkook stills, unsure what to retort. He’s meant to bring you rumors of an informant from outside the palace, but now, it seems as if his initial task was long forgotten. ‘It can wait,’ he thinks to himself, your welfare is always his priority. “I-uh. I was doing my rounds…and I heard the water splashing inside… so I had to check.”

Shame floods through you. Fortunately for you, the captain doesn’t see you liken to the shade of a tomato. You’re unsure what pushes you to pour out your emotions to the captain – whether it be the fact that the captain has earned your trust that you’re comfortable enough to be completely honest with him, or that you are left with no other choice but to tell the truth as to why you’ve decided to spend your night in the royal baths. You could care less at this point, whatever the reason might have been, because the words are already spilling out of your mouth.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Jungkook. I am beyond agitated – in fact, I think I have been since my husband’s leave. And on top of that I miss Seokjin. I really do, and it’s not just the kind of feeling that you can temporarily disregard by preoccupying yourself with other things, its…I…I miss him so much because I need him, Jungkook. Now it’s all the more frustrating because the only way I know how to instantaneously relieve myself isn’t working either because like I said… I, I need my husband.”

“Use me then Mama, for your own pleasure. Imagine I am the king, imagine me as your husband,” he pleads.

“What?! I-I can’t ask that of you Captain, that is beyond your royal duties.”

“I’m not asking, I’m offering you my assistance… as a friend, as someone who genuinely wants you to help you relieve yourself of your stresses even just for a short while.”

You sit there silent, contemplating. You hate how he always catches you off guard, easily pointing out the truth that you thought you wonderfully hide. Sitting up straighter, skeptical at the thought of this proposal, you turn around to face Jungkook. “Doesn’t this seem strange to you?”

“Jungjeon-mama, it’s only strange if you think about it that way. I really just want to help you. If you desire so, I can just leave now and forget this ever happened,” Jungkook offers and you already hear him standing from where he’s seated.

“No!” you yell abruptly, taking Jungkook by surprise. Well you didn’t explicitly say ‘yes’ but your answer wasn’t exactly a disapproval of his offer, was it?

“How are we supposed to do this then?” Your voice is small, if he’s not mistaken, he could tell you’re slightly embarrassed because of the whole situation. Jungkook’s mind goes blank. Then again, he really wasn’t expecting you to agree.

“Uh… I guess I could guide you through it? I… I don’t have to go there, I won’t even look at you, I’ll just stay here…while I uh, talk you through it?” The captain inwardly cringes at himself, grimacing at how much he’d stammered at such a short period of time.

“Are you sure about that…”

“Yes, I’m okay-”

“I meant, are you sure you’re going to stay there the whole time?”

The captain’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. What? Are you implying that he move somewhere he can see you? Were you even aware of what you’re saying? Jungkook tries to reassure you and himself that he’ll gladly stay back, watching you from behind. Besides, he doesn’t even know how you’ll react if you make him move nearer and you’ll eventually realize that he’s already half-hard just imagining you naked. Jungkook hums in approval.

“Okay, show me how you touch yourself, Mama.”

“But you can’t see me?”

“I’ll be fine, I can see your arms moving from here. I’ll just try to imagine what you’re doing…” ‘That sounded awful,’ Jungkook thinks, biting his fist at the realization of him not being articulate enough.

“O-okay,” comes your answer as you sink yourself lower on the pool. He sees your arms create tiny ripples on the water with your movements. Perhaps, this wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Imagine it’s the King massaging your breasts slowly as he cups your cunt with his other hand.” Jungkook sees you comply instantly, good girl. He sees you sink even further as you enjoy yourself, soft whimpers escaping your lips. “Now, play with your clit, Mama, slowly rub it in circles with your fingers.” The captain’s chest swells with pride as your head slightly lolls backwards until you suddenly sit up straight again, this time looking at him straight in the eye.

“I can’t Jungkook…this is too difficult. You have to be here.”

Jungkook nearly falls off his seat.

“Mama- I…”

“Take off your clothes, Captain and get your butt here in the pool with me.” Jungkook gets rid of his clothes with the same sense of urgency laced with your words. “Quickly, before I’ll have you dismissed from the royal guards.” You let him undress for a moment, fidgeting with your fingers as you wait for him on the pool steps.  

“I’m here, Mama.” Turning to face him, Jungkook takes notice of your bloodshot eyes. He delicately wipes a tear that rolls down your cheek. The gentle action spurs you to hug the captain, the frustration coming off as tears pouring out of your eyes.  

He attempts to ignore the fact that your chest is blatantly pressing against his, your pert nipples cold against his torso. Jungkook likewise wonders if you’re aware of his fully erect dick now, which is painfully and uncomfortably wedged between your bodies. You both stay like that for a moment, relaxing in each other’s arms, or just you – at least, from Jungkook’s perspective. There are already beads of sweat glistening on his forehead despite the cold breeze that entered through an open window.

Ever so gently, he presses a light kiss on your forehead, then on your cheeks and on your nose. “Are you okay, Mama?” the concerned captain asks as you silently rest your head against his chest. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You nod, pushing him forward and making him sit on the steps of the pool.

You pull his thighs apart, making room for you to sit on the meaty muscle. As you lower yourself on his thigh, Jungkook lets out a breathy exhale, feeling your core hot and wet against his skin. His hands shoot out to grab at your hips as he squeezes you lightly, desperate to confirm to himself that this isn’t just the loveliest dream – that you aren’t seated on his lap, gloriously naked as a newborn baby.

He wants to kiss you like this, to show you how beautiful you are, how strong his feelings are just for you. But he controls himself, as you’d probably reserve those lips for your husband alone, and he’s willing to wait it out, as long as you’re comfortable and you don’t feel pressured to do it.

His large hands are warm against your cool skin, gaze steely as you grind yourself against his thighs desperately. He gropes the supple flesh of your breasts, rolling your already hardened nipples between his fingers. Jungkook gives them a pinch before enclosing one in his mouth, tongue swirling all over your areola. Your hands reach up to tug frantically at his hair. “Ah Jungkook, please…”

Jungkook nips at the skin by the valley of your breasts, lips moving south to more time to take one of your tits inside his mouth while he keeps his hand busy kneading the other. “You’re so wet, Mama. And it’s not because of your bath is it?” He observes, swiping his fingers against your folds, shallowly dipping two and removing them from your cunt. “Please call me ________.”

Jungkook slides two fingers inside of you without warning and you quickly clasp a hand over your mouth, letting out a whimper. He lets out a low groan at the sound, clearly just as aroused as you are. He sped up his fingers, circling your swollen clit with his thumb. As your hips jerk, you feel yourself slowly sliding forward, your core coming in contact with his cock. Your thighs tremble at the sensation.

You’re so close, finally! Letting out a satisfied exhale, you urge Jungkook to go even faster as you arch your back, shamelessly undulating your hips on his fingers. You hear Jungkook whisper praises on your skin as you cum on his fingers, squeezing and pulsing around his digits. As you pant heavily, you let your head fall onto his shoulder. You hiss as he pulls his fingers out and trail them across your back, before situating them on your back and pulling you into a hug.

Jungkook unabashedly ogles your tits, completely mesmerized by how they slightly jiggle as you breath. He takes one of your breast in his mouth again, while the other gets groped and abused by his hand. As you squirm beneath him, he suckles on the skin for a moment, teasing you even further.  He pulls away with a pop and tilts his head, grinning at you. “Use your words, my queen. I need to know what you want, what you truly need.”

“I need you.” Jungkook nearly sings in elation, heart soaring as he hears the words escape your lips.

“I’m all yours, _______. Take me.”

With his arms shifting underneath the water, you figure Jungkook has taken his cock in his hand, jerking it off a little before adjusting his seating. He lets the hard flesh press against your core, making you gasp at the contact. His eyes fall close as he slowly rubs himself back and forth the wetness of your folds, catching his bottom lip between his teeth at the feeling.

Getting impatient with his incessant teasing, you take hold of his cock and position it near your entrance. You lower yourself on his cock slowly, mouth falling open at the burning stretch of being breached after quite some time. “You…feel…so…good,” Jungkook says breathily as your pussy squeezes every inch of him until he bottoms out.

You grab him on his shoulders for support, your arms entwining around his neck as you let your fingers get tangled in his hair. You raise yourself until only the tip of his cock is left between your folds and you sink back down onto it with a long, loud moan.

It had proven to be quite the challenge to fuck in the pool because of the water resistance, but with Jungkook’s equally fervent desire to give you your release, his hips start moving in a steady rhythm, matching yours. You were getting close, but not enough to reach your high.  

“Kook, gods…floor now.”

“Can I, ______?” Jungkook asks, dark eyes looking at you almost pleadingly. He places the tip of his cock at your entrance, pausing as he gazes at you one more time. You squeeze his arm beside your head that has you caged beneath him. Jungkook lets out an exhale, grabbing onto your hipbones and slamming inside you without further warning. He fucks you relentlessly, thrusting so deep that your body is jolting forward, his cock hitting your cervix with every snap of his hips. Just then you realized, the water in the pool was clearly holding him back.

His pace doesn’t waver even with his breathing getting more ragged by the second. “Fuck, you feel so good, _______.” He lifts himself, stretching his elbows out to take a good look at you. Jungkook had never thought he’d be able to get blessed again with such a sight. You’re mewling beneath him, his name repeatedly falling off your swollen lips like a prayer. His eyes get trained on your breasts one more time, watching them jiggle with every thrust he makes. The sight only makes him pound into you harder than before, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking on the hardened bud.

You’re already far too gone to care about the cold wind hitting your skin or the slight burn of your skin sliding against the wooden floor as Jungkook fucks you against it. With your orgasm building up for the second time tonight, you push your hips upward, angling yourself so he hits that sweet spot inside you with each movement of his hips.

“Come on, Mama,” Jungkook encourages through gritted teeth, all too aware that his own high is coming to him at breakneck speed, but he collects himself, holding on until you cum first. Your relief is his priority. He slides his fingers between your bodies and finds your nether bud. That seems to do the job. As he continues to rub at your clit, your moans get louder and this time Jungkook is glad that you no longer attempt to hold in your cries, carelessly mewling out the sounds of your passion. Your whole body convulses as your orgasm washes over you.

The captain follows suit, cock going rock hard inside you as he spills his release and throws his head back, grabbing onto your hips and groaning louder than you’ve ever heard him before. You let him ride out his high with a few more thrusts, watching his face contort into pleasure. Wincing as he pulls out, Jungkook falls to your side, panting just as heavily as you are.

“Thank you, Jungkook.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Jungjeon-mama.”

You can’t sleep, again. But this time, it’s not because of your own doing. You hear horses neighing and a few yells here and there. There’s something going on outside – a commotion, one which only seems to get worse as you hear the guards attempt to keep the noise at the minimum at this ungodly hour.

Grabbing your robe from the dresser, you tiredly rub at your eyes as you head out of your room. You spot Yunho looking out from the windows of your hanok. “What’s going on? Why is there so much noise?” Dragging your feet across the wooden floor, you walk sluggishly towards the guard who bows curtly to acknowledge your presence but returns his vision to the ruckus below.

“It seems we have a visitor, Jungjeon-mama. Please continue your resting, we will take care of this.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m already awake,” you respond, joining him by the window. As you squint your eyes to see better, an all-too-familiar emblem printed on a handheld flag standing tall and proud, seemingly waving at you as the wind blows.

“Jungjeon-mama!” Yunho calls out as you rush outside. His calls fall into deaf ears, letting your feet carry you down the stairs and towards the palace gates. You’re getting a sick feeling from their unexpected arrival, their presence not settling properly in your gut.

The royal guards get in your way, attempting to stop you from taking another step nearer your visitors. “Mama, please get back to your room.” Jungkook steps forward, shielding you from seeing your unexpected guests. “Move, Captain. It’s only right for the lady of the house to greet her guests herself. So make way, Jungkook. Don’t make me tell you twice.” Jungkook lets out an exhale, hesitating on his actions. He makes a small step sideways, and you look at him. “Do you not trust me?” The captain looks away and takes a larger step to your right, making way, but not before getting closer as he whispers in your ear, “They’re dangerous, Mama. It’s them I don’t trust. Just give me a sign and I’ll behead this man in one strike.”

You nod in agreement, thankful that his bravery seems to add up to the courage you’re lacking at this very moment. You haven’t had a proper look at your guests and now that you do, you’re taken aback by the mop of blonde hair that catches your eyes, the man’s hair unusually matching that of his horse’s.

The man with the pale-yellowish hair alights from his horse, your eyes trained on his every movement. He nods to one of his guards to take care of his steed. Was this man a foreigner? From overseas perhaps? But why does he hold the emblem of the south with him? Had history already repeated itself? You’re starting to get a headache with the number of questions swirling in your head right now, all of which are answered when the man finally looks at you.

“Yoongi?”

You’re rendered speechless. You’re well aware that the present king of the south has a scar on his face, inflicted by none other than Minseok, who had paid for the facial wound with his life, but you never thought it would be this…terrible. The wound is healing, but the scar cutting through his right eyebrow until his cheek was an injury too deep to heal fully. That you knew all too well with the similar mark you have on your side from your childhood.

You gulp, taking another step forward. “What are you and your men doing here?”

“Ah, Jungjeon-mama, surely that’s not how the capitol greets its guests?” You maintain your glare but the present king of the south looks the least bit unfazed. “Don’t worry, my Queen, the pleasure is all mine.” Jungkook was about to wield his sword when Yoongi takes one of your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss at the back of your palm.

You’re startled by the gesture, quickly withdrawing your hand and wiping it discreetly against your robe. “I’m going to ask you again, Yoongi. What are you doing here?”

Yoongi huffs, glancing sideways, “Fine, since you asked so nicely. We’re here to celebrate Chuseok.”

“It’s not until a few more days.”

“Is there anything wrong about arriving a little earlier than expected?”

“Don’t you have your own city to celebrate with, and take care of?”

“The queen is always in charge of the celebrations. But you already knew that. Besides, it’s not unusual to visit your friends during the festival, right? Especially when a southerner is celebrating all by herself in such a big palace.”

Both ticked and apprehended at his words, you clench your jaw as you decide. Yoongi isn’t entirely wrong; the festival isn’t an exclusive commemoration of your ancestors, but it is also considered a time of communal gathering – one celebrated with your families, distant relatives, and friends.

Albeit you and Yoongi don’t share the type of friendship that he implied, it had also been tradition for royalties to visit each other’s cities during Chuseok, but the prideful south was never really one to partake in dealing with simple ethics. On top of that, it was considered bad luck to refuse guests during festivities, especially one as big as Chuseok. And you wouldn’t want to push your luck, not when Yoongi’s arrival is enough bad luck as it is.

“Yunho,” you call, taking your eyes off Yoongi, “ready our guests’ hanok.”

The king gives you a lopsided smirk in return. You turn on your heel after that, unable to take any more of his presence. Yoongi nears Jungkook who maintains his steel gaze at the unexpected visitor and says lowly,

“Pleasant to see you again after so long…brother.”

[taglist] : @aretha170​

© joontier 2020. All rights reserved. 

#bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #bts angst #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 1 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨

Summary: Flashbacks to their first meeting back in the day when friendships started at “hello”. Flashbacks to their troublesome teen years, -where life without the other was unthinkable- and the first time experiencing a heartbroken wishing it was the last. Flashbacks to the silence of all those years, the unspoken words, and the lingering stares. Flash forward to the present to responsibilities and young adulthood, to return to the first place they ever called home. What were memories but a supercut of them two?

A/N: hi there, I haven’t written ff in a while (and I had never written ff for the rpdr fandom so this is a first) I hope you enjoy this chapter it’s mostly an introduction and their first meeting (ch 2 is already up) thanks for reading <3

-1-

At the age of five, there wasn’t anything that Priyanka loved more than chocolate chip cookies.

No, but, any joke aside. It was a serious matter for her. Her mother didn’t buy that many sugary cereals, colorful candy, chocolates, or sweets in general but once in a while, she would buy a bag of cookies for her to take to kindergarten and share them with her classmates. Needless to say she never actually shared them. Young as she was, she was smart enough to fractionate the bag and make it last a few more days.

To achieve this, she planned and skimmed, and even had a secret hiding place where she could eat them without anyone or anything to bother her. It was the only moment of the day where she disappeared for a couple of minutes. On a regular day, she would be playing hide and seek or skipping the rope with the other kids but since she had four siblings at home, playtime was the only moment she had for herself and her chocolate chip cookies.

She had discovered a little nook next to the teacher’s lounge; it was almost entirely covered by a large leafy bush. For months, she had done a wonderful job sneaking out and coming back to the group before her teachers even noticed her absence. It was perfect and it worked for her convenience.

That was until one faithful day…

Priyanka was about to take the first triumphal bite of her cookie -the tastiest one that always felt a little like victory- when she heard a faint sob nearby. She stopped mid-bite to check who had discovered her secret when she noticed it was one of the girls from the classroom next to hers. She had seen her a couple of times but never spoke or played with her before, until that moment.

The little girl was sitting in the stairs’ steps, dangerously near the entrance -which was forbidden territory for any children- the bush covered much from that angle and it was obvious she didn’t want anyone to see her crying as well.

“Hey…” Priyanka approached softly.

The little girl lifted her head, her face was puffy and her eyes reddened after all that crying. She was still very pretty with her blonde pigtails and Hello Kitty hairpins, it reminded Priyanka those dolls with giant eyes and plastic hair.

“Why are you crying?” Priyanka asked innocently.

The girl hadn’t noticed her presence until that moment and she sobbed a little more, unable to speak.

“Do you want me to call your teacher?”

She shook her head in a negative gesture.

“I-I…” She struggled to find the words. “I-Ilona… she s-said my… she said my name was dumb.” The tears kept rolling down her face. “And s-she didn’t let the other girls p-play with me.”

Ilona. Priyanka did know Ilona, their mothers were friends and she knew the girl could be a meanie sometimes but nothing she couldn’t handle.

Priyanka kneeled next to her. “She’s just being mean.”

“But no one wants to play with me now!” The girl bawled her eyes out. Loudly.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t cry… don’t cry.” For some reason, she couldn’t stand the image of that girl shedding a tear. The idea popped in her head. “I’ll give you a cookie if you stop crying right now.”

The girl stared at her with a big pout on her mouth and her eyes glistening with shiny tears.

Priyanka extended her tiny hand and offered one of the cookies she so dearly adored, -for her, those cookies made her happy thus it would help the other girl to stop feeling sad, right?- the other girl hesitated for a moment before grabbing it, no one could say no to a chocolate chip cookie and that was a well-known fact.

She murmured something similar to a «thank you» and munched in silence. Priyanka sat next to her and had a cookie for herself.

“What’s your name anyway?”

“I’m Lucy… but my mom and my dad call me Lemon.” She said shyly. There were cookie crumbs over her mouth. “Because I like yellow… a lot.” She pointed at her -indeed- canary yellow ruffled dress and matching shoes.

“I see… I’m Priyanka.”

“Nice to meet you, Priyanka.”

Lemon shook her hand in a gesture that felt business-like. This got the other girl giggling before sharing another cookie with her newest friend.

“What were you doing here? The teacher said we don’t have to come this way.”

Priyanka’s eyes widened.

“I-… can you keep a secret?”

Lemon nodded, very severe about it.

“I didn’t want to share my cookies with the other kids of my classroom.”

Lemon gasped audibly.

“But you shared them with me!”

“You were crying.”

The blonde’s bottom lip trembled. “T-Thank you.”

“It’s okay… I tell you what, I’ll play with you.”

“You don’t have to…” She said shyly again.

“But I want to… come with me.” She put the bag of cookies back into her Rainbow Dash lunch box and extended her single hand towards the blonde.

Lemon didn’t hesitate this time and held it firmly.

Priyanka, being the natural chatterbox she was, of course, managed to make friends everywhere but for Lemon -who had always being withdrawn with strangers- the ease she had was something brand new.

“What do you want to play first?” Priyanka asked, still holding her hand.

“Hopscotch!” The enthusiast in her voice was contagious. It was difficult to believe it was the same girl that was crying just a few minutes ago.

“I’m the champion of hopscotch around.” Priyanka said proudly.

“You were.” Lemon giggled.

“Hey!” But Priyanka was smiling as well.

After that day, their friendship was set in stone. Priyanka and Lemon, Lemon and Priyanka: never one without the other.

And from that day on, Lemon started bringing chocolate chip cookies to kindergarten as well.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #can1 #priyanka #lemon #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #lesbian au #friends to lovers #timeskips #first meetings #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

[joliepixie]

I’ve been reading almost everyday since April 16th thanks to the stay at home order. Not that I’m complaining but I feeling like it’s time to return to work if only for my activity level! its become a struggle to remove myself enough to go for a walk or run. Anyways onto the books.

Left to right:

1) I ordered this book when I was in the middle of the Throne of Glass series as a nice book to break up the series (can’t read series books back to back I get bored that way) but also to fulfill the Sarah J. Maas craving I was having without having to invest in a series. I don’t know was expecting with this book but for me it made me realize I’m not that into superhero books... don’t get me wrong it was a good book and I think I gave it 3 stars?? It just didn’t resonate with me. I didn’t much enjoy the characters and I had a hard time believing catwoman was this super badass didn’t lose one fight to anyone type of character that had assassin training. I preferred the early chapters when she was just a kid trying to make a living by fighting I think following that would have been a bit more interesting. Ok Just checked rated it 4 stars... This is why I do these “reviews” cause sometimes I don’t know how I feel about a book till I sit down and start blabbing about it. So yes a 3 star book for me.

2) Ok I have a serious addiction apparently. After reading the Throne of Glass books I wasn’t done with Sarah J. Maas’ writing style yet so with me having a week of uninterrupted home time left and having a serious book hangover I decided to re-read the ACOTAR series again.. probably just the first two because I like the build up to Rhys and Feyra’s relationship. Needless to say other then having to spend the majority of this book with Tamlin I love this book or more specifically the under the mountain trails. Going into the book for the first time last year I wasn’t expecting the trails and being a huge fan of competitions, trails, etc. I was enthralled. Love this book and love the second book even more. Oh and I promise I will be branching out from Sarah J. Maas soon considering I’ve had all her books read and just waiting for breath and sky now.

3) Another re-read/slowly trying to read every book on my bookshelf after a reading slump of 3 years. As I’ve been saying to my friends. I’m weeding out the weak deciding what to keep and what to give away. Anyways, absolutely love this book. Say what you will about Nicholas Sparks but he knows how to tug at the heart strings. When I first read this book I was in highschool and getting through those last 100 pages is tough is a terribly sad type of way. I remember I had to give my dad a hug when he got home after sobbing on the couch for hours. This book broke and I went in knowing this and I spent my entire night crying, let my dad know I loved him, and woke up with sore and puffy eyes so bad that I couldn’t read at all the next day. Regardless of how much I love this book I’m keeping it for the sake of the memories I have with it and as a reminder to let my parents know I love them unconditionally and never stay mad.

4) If you remember I picked this book up on one of my thrifting trips with my friend. Funny story I accidentally bought two copies thinking they were different stories. I have a obsession with Paris (even though I haven’t gone.. just waiting for covid to end so I can get out there) which was the main reason for this purchase and I’m glad I got it. I read this immediately after Kingdom of Ash because I needed something quick and what better then a book of short stories some involving Paris? I loved the majority of the stories in this book and will definitely be re reading a few someday. I tried reading this author other book me Before You when I was really young but being so young I don’t think I appreciated it as much as I should have. After picking up this book and being reacquainted with this authors writing style I think I’ll be trying some of her other books and probably dusting off my old copy of Me Before You.

5) I’ve been having an tough time with thrillers recently where I’ve read a lot that just didn’t sit well with me. This one reminded me why I like thrillers so much. I found this one fast paced and didn’t have to sit through chapter after chapter of the characters drinking while she took her medication. Sometimes I find with thrillers we are always given these characters that are so dependent on there vices which are used against them to make them seem crazy rather then something actually happening which drags on and sometimes used as a crutch in writing do you get what I’m saying? Even though this book did have a bit of this happening it wasn’t used nearly as much as other books and like I said very fast pace. It was neat how there wasn’t a grand reveal but the main character just worked it out on her own. I was happy with the ending as well and thought it ended the book well. All and all I liked this book a lot.

6) Was hoping I could write about book 6, 7, and 8 altogether like last time but I have very different feelings about each book so here we go. I love this book probably just as much as Heir of Fire and Queen of Shadows. I really loved getting to see all the characters interact like Manon joining up with the crew. The skull bay fight with Lysandra was definitely one of my all time favourite scenes and having Dorian slowly master his powers was fun to read as well. My favourite part of this book was definitely Lorcan and Elide parts. Elide was a character that I could give or take when I first met her but she’s slowly become my favourite character and I loved everyone of her chapters as well as the slow building romance with Lorcan. And if you know me you know I have a great hatred for Chaol so this book got a added bonus for not having a single chapter from his perspective!

7) This was a struggle. I looked up if I could just skip this book but unfortunately it had major plot points you couldn’t miss. I was dreading this book. I read a lot of reviews about how people hated Chaol but still really found this book likeable so I went in hoping that would be my experience too. It wasn’t. I actually ended up buying the audiobook because I really couldn’t picture myself sitting and reading this book... it’s not that I hated it I just don’t like chaol and besides Yrene and Borte didn’t really care for any of the characters in this book. I’m glad I listened to it because I definitely needed this story to continue and I really did try not to hate Chaol so much but I just can’t stand him.

8) Ok. The final Throne of Glass book. I gave it 4 stars. The middle three books are my favourite and I will re read over and over this one I don’t see myself going back to it. I have it four starts because I’ve followed these characters through a eight book series and a month of my time. I’ve fallen in love with these characters and there stories, I will always love these character, and of course Elide and Lorcan! Now here’s why I didn’t like this book as much nor think I’ll read it again (other then Lorcan and Elide story.) throughout this book I felt like Rowan became a background character like I’m all for a strong female lead and her doing shit her own way but Rowan was suppose to be her equal and I just felt like he did nothing. Like the final fight he spent the majority of it chasing Aelin? I get it she didn’t have her full powers but she was handling her own couldn’t you do the same? It just didn’t sit right with me that this character that was introduced to us in Heir of Fire that trained Aelin and is her equal was just kind of brushed aside and became this clingy male that spent the majority of the book following Aelin around not doing anything other the pleading her not to leave him. Like what happened to the badass Rowan that I grew to love...? Also was really angered me Aelin losing her powers? What’s up with that?! It just felt so cheap to me.. after again reading about how strong she is and then forging the lock which did nothing by the way what was the point of that anyways, and then she just loses all her power only having a ember left??? I hate when authors do this.. I also felt the scene with Erawan, Maeve, and Aelin was just dull. I was still upset that Aelin wouldn’t get to use her powers against them and in the end it was more of a match of words then a battle just felt a little cheap to me. I was just disappointing , Aelin a character we have come to love and watch grow and get stronger hardly hold her own against Maeve... This book has a all around different feel to it compared to the other books and maybe it’s because it was the final battle and and the final book to the series I was a bit disappointed with it but I did enjoy it and felt a huge accomplishment when I finished the series. Reading that finally few chapters really put me into a hangover knowing it was over and like Aelin felt when everyone was heading home I felt that too. It’s goodbye for now.

#catwomen #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #last song #nicholas sparks #sarah j maas #ruth ware #jojo moyes #Paris for one #Paris #books #book #throne of glass #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash

[brandyovereager]

The Phoenix Effect - pt. 7

This is the longest chapter I have ever posted! The conversations in this chapter were so much fun to write, I hope you have fun reading them ;). Let me know what you think, I love to hear from you guys!!!

On ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22195906/chapters/60178285

Summary: Rowan is in Rifthold with Dorian when a strange phenomenon sweeps the land. Those once dead are popping up alive. Everyday, more and more are Reborn. One day Rowan encounters a Reborn young man who refuses to give his name, only asking to know the whereabouts of Celaena Sardothien.

-

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius lounged on her throne. Her posture was casual in a way that made her appear superior, but the grin on her face betrayed the childlike joy within her.

Aelin had heard about the reborn phenomenon in Adarlan from Rowan’s reports, and knew all the miraculous details of what was happening. It shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was for her to hear that reborns were showing up in Terrasen.

The first ones arrived in towns near the border between Terrasen and Adarlan. Within a week there were reborns appearing in Orynth. Luckily, Aelin was a swift and wise leader. She was able to quickly institute a procedure for helping reborns similar to the one in Adarlan.

The whole situation was managing smoothly, her mate would be returning home soon, and just three days ago Aelin found yet another reason to be happy.

It seemed there was no real logic to where the reborns popped up. It didn’t coincide with where they died—or even where they had lived most of their lives—because when Aelin last visited the reborn specialists’ center, she was reunited with a dear friend she thought was lost forever.

Somehow the magical force behind this phenomenon had brought Nehemia Ytger to Orynth, alive and well.

Their reunion was joyous and tearful. Aelin had so much to explain to Nehemia, things she never had the chance to say, but all she could get out were incoherent sobs of delight. Several minutes of heartfelt embrace later, the pair was sat close together and calm enough to delve into their much needed conversation.

The story spilled out of Aelin faster than she could think—along with a stream of pent-up apologies and guilt for what happened to her friend. Aelin had blamed herself for so much after Nehemia died, and all that shame came resurfaced as she sat across from the other young woman.

Nehemia adamantly denied any guilt on Aelin’s part, but made sure Aelin knew that she would be forgiven anyway. After sufficient reassurance and long overdue healing, the two friends jumped right in to all the wonderful updates on Aelin’s life.

The young queen excitedly took her old friend on a tour around her castle and introduced her to her court—most of it, at least. Nehemia and Lysandra hit it off wonderfully, and the three spent many hours together with broad smiles on their faces. It filled Aelin’s heart to see two people she loved get along so well. She couldn’t wait for Nehemia to meet Rowan.

Now, three days after their reunion, Nehemia sat beside her in the throne room while she held her court. The two friends exchanged many secret smiles as various courtiers made their—often ridiculous—remarks.

From outside the throne room, Aelin could hear a commotion begin amongst her guards. The Fae queen sat up straighter in her seat and focused her gaze on the large doors ahead of her. As expected, they soon opened and a servant entered.

“Your Majesty, two new reborns have arrived and wish to speak to you.” That was quite odd. Why would her guard have gotten in a fuss over a couple of reborns?

“Reborns should be sent to the specialists’ center to find help. Why should these two be brought to see me?”

“You know these ones, My Queen, they are your family.” A jumble of feelings rushed through Aelin with the servant’s statement, and the look on his face betrayed his knowledge of her reaction.

“My family? Send them in.” Aelin was tingling and buzzing down to her fingertips. The possibility of her own family being amongst those reborn had always been there, but she hadn’t let herself believe it would happen.

The doors to her throne room opened to reveal a male and female, each with golden hair. The male Aelin recognized immediately, and she leapt from her seat to meet him in an embrace.

“Gavriel.” The golden-haired male held her firmly to him with just as much enthusiasm as Aelin felt herself. She had missed him, and Aedion had too.

Stepping back from the beloved Fae, Aelin turned to look at the female beside him. Her heart jumped for a second before she realized that—despite the many similar features—the woman was not her mother. This was Aedion’s mother. There was no denying it, her face so blatantly Ashryver. It was easy to see why Gavriel had once suspected Aelin to be her child.

“I don’t think we ever met, but I am Aelin Galathynius—Rhoe and Evalin’s daughter—and you are Aedion’s mother.” There was no question in her voice.

“Yes, I am Andelin Ashryver. It is wonderful to finally meet you, Aelin. I loved your mother very much, and I owe her everything. You are her spitting image.” Aelin’s heart both warmed and grew heavy.

“I have been told that a lot,” Aelin smiled lightly, “as I’m sure you have too.” Andelin threw a wry smile back at her.

“The Ashryver genes are strong.” Aelin had to agree.

“Aedion got them as well. He looks very much like you.” Andelin’s face softened at Aelin’s mention of her son. Aelin continued, “You would be proud of him—for many reasons.”

“I am incredibly proud of who he has become, but I’m afraid I can’t take much credit for that.” Aelin recognized clearly the guilt and sadness Andelin felt over her son’s upbringing. “Do you know where he is? I need to speak with him.” Aelin grimaced slightly in response.

“It’s rotten timing but Aedion is actually in Adarlan right now fetching my mate for me.” Aelin reached out to grab the other woman’s arm in reassurance. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you’d like, though. I will have a suite prepared for the both of you immediately, right near Aedion’s.” These two were family, she would not have them be anywhere else.

A servant was promptly summoned and sent to ready their suite. Another servant was directed to find Lysandra, who arrived minutes later. Similar to Aelin’s reaction, Lysandra first recognized Gavriel and rushed to meet him in an embrace.

Aelin watched her friend closely as she finally took in the woman next to Gavriel. She could see the shifter piece things together and widen her eyes slightly in realization. Lysandra’s gaze flickered over to Aelin and the queen nodded in affirmation.

“I should introduce you to my dear friend, Lady Lysandra Ashryver. She is Aedion’s wife. Lysandra—you have met Gavriel—and this is Andelin Ashryver, Aedion’s mother.”

————

The journey back to Terrasen was too gods-damned long.

It wasn’t even that Rowan was sick of walking for hours on end, day after day—though that was certainly part of it. Rowan needed to get back to his mate. He had so much he needed to tell her. So much had happened that she would need time to process, and he would have to be by her side anchoring her as she did.

Even more, though—selfish as it may be—he just missed her. He had been separated from his love for too long. He ached with the knowledge that the other half of his immortal soul was not beside him. It was a challenge every night to lay down in a cold bed by himself and fall asleep without holding her. It was wrong. Mates were not meant to be apart.

For the past week he had been walking the long road back to his love, and it was awful. There were far too many miles between them. He wanted to forget about his traveling companions and just fly back to her as fast as his wings allowed. Surely they didn’t need him walking beside them—after all, Aedion had travelled all the way to Adarlan without Rowan. Terrasen’s royal caravan was more than enough enough manpower if they found themselves in trouble.

He couldn’t leave Aedion alone with Sam, though. The young Ashryver had not taken to the reborn assassin very well. Aedion had no great love for anyone from Aelin’s time as Celaena, often choosing to avoid that part of his cousin’s past. During the seven days they’d been on the road together, the male had only spoken to Sam a handful of times—each in a gruff and unfriendly manner.

Rowan supposed that might be for the best. He didn’t put it past Aedion to spill the truth about Aelin in some attempt to torment the boy. Needless to say, the unlikely trio travelled in a state of unending tension.

Rowan managed to keep himself as a buffer between the other two most of the time, but it was exhausting him. The Fae wasn’t exactly overjoyed at the presence of Sam either. The two had spent a fair amount of time together back when Rowan was helping Sam in his search, but ever since the young man’s identity was revealed it was awkward for Rowan to be near him. They had never spoken much—and that was certainly fine with Rowan—but the silent walking left Rowan alone with his thoughts, and he was a little uncomfortable with the thoughts he had when he knew Sam Cortland was beside him.

He was especially uncomfortable when he considered the thoughts Sam might be having himself as they travelled.

Sam knew nothing about what Aelin’s life was now. He had no idea she was the Queen of Terrasen, that she was an immortal Fae, that she was mated and married. The Aelin he had last known was Celaena, and Sam was in love with her.

Yes, those thoughts didn’t sit well with Rowan.

The three travelers and their caravan were currently surrounded by dense forest. Rowan didn’t mind too much—it shielded them from the hot sun—but it did mean they were farther from lodging and refreshment. They hadn’t encountered many others on their journey so far, and they hadn’t seen any intelligent life this entire day.

A bush about three feet to Rowan’s right rustled and the Fae turned to watch as a deer bolted away, startled at the sight of them. His hand relaxed from where he’d reached for his sword, taking notice of Aedion beside him doing the same. They might both be protected members of Terrasen’s court, but the warrior’s instinct to defend never went away. Rowan was sure the guards in their caravan had instructions to ensure Rowan’s—and Aedion’s—safety first, but if an attack did happen, the male doubted he’d be able to run for cover while others endangered themselves to protect him.

He and Aelin had similar opinions on that matter. They were powerful, immortal warriors. As the leaders of Terrasen, it was their responsibility to serve and protect their people, not the other way around.

For the first time that day, Rowan spotted what looked to be human figures ahead of them on the path. There were two of them, with hoods over their heads, unmoving on the side of the road. Beneath the cloak of one figure was a pair of high boots, and beneath that of the other Rowan could see full skirts, indicating the pair was likely a male and female.

As their caravan neared the two travelers, Rowan started to detect more details about their appearance. Their cloaks were high-quality and made from an expensive-looking hunter green cloth, not typical attire for two lone wanderers. Anyone of money or status traveled with a caravan, like he and Aedion were.

The pair turned slightly more towards the large group approaching them and the woman called out at the sight of Terrasen’s flag on their uniforms.

“Terrasen! The royal caravan!” The woman nudged the man beside her to draw his attention to them. “Are members of the royal family with you?”

The caravan’s head—Captain Algaard—stopped their advance and addressed the woman.

“We are of Terrasen, yes, and this caravan is transporting important members of the court.” The guard kept his answer vague so as not to reveal too much to a stranger. “What do you want of them?”

“We must speak to Aelin Galathynius. We need to warn her.” That was concerning.

“What must you warn Her Majesty about, traveler?”

“It may be difficult to believe, but my husband and I should not be alive. Someone has tampered with death, Captain, and we need to tell her.” Aedion approached the captain and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“We are alright, Algaard. Two reborns don’t pose much threat to His Majesty or myself. They are just confused.” Aedion then turned to the traveler woman. “Do you need help, kind woman? Are you in need of provisions?” The couple seemed to notice Aedion for the first time. The woman’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Aedion?” The Ashryver male paused in surprise—an emotion Rowan shared—before walking closer to the couple. Rowan could see the moment Aedion realized who the woman was because something in his face crumbled.

“Evalin?” Evalin. Even if Evalin were a common name—which Rowan didn’t believe it was—a closer look at the woman was all he needed to confirm that she was, in fact, Evalin Ashryver Galathynius. This woman, reborn to a body not much older than Aelin’s, was the near twin of his mate. It stirred something deep within the Fae to look at her.

Aelin’s mother was one of the dead brought back by this strange phenomenon. From the woman’s statement earlier of her husband, the man beside Evalin was likely Aelin’s father. These were his mate’s parents, ones she had grieved for years and missed every day.

Rowan snapped out of his thoughts to find Aedion in a firm embrace with Evalin and Rhoe. They didn’t appear to be speaking, but he had a feeling emotions were being communicated in other ways. These two were important to Aedion as well as Aelin. They had been his guardians during his early years.

Rowan felt a little intrusive watching such an intimate moment, so he turned to address the rest of their caravan. They would be adding a few more to their party, it would seem. Evalin had said she needed to speak to Aelin, and Rowan very much agreed.

“These are Her Majesty’s parents, Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius. We will be bringing them with us. They are members of Terrasen’s royal family and should be included in your protection the same as Prince Aedion and I.” The news was understandably shocking to the guards, but they remained serious and registered Rowan’s statement as the order it was. He continued, “Someone prepare them refreshment.” That was enough to set the group moving about.

When the king turned back to the reunited trio, he found them more composed than before. Aedion met his eyes and Rowan took that as his cue to approach.

“I am honored to meet you, Your Highnesses. I am Rowan Whitethorn—“ Rhoe cut him off before he could continue.

“The Fae warrior. I have heard many stories about you, Rowan Whitethorn. I have to say I have always admired your skill—the stuff of my childhood legends—but we have no want for Maeve’s presence in Terrasen. Thank you for helping Aedion, however you may have, but we should make the rest of our journey alone.” Rowan couldn’t help but smile slightly at Rhoe’s words.

“I can assure you, Rhoe Galathynius, that I no longer have any ties to Maeve. My allegiance lies solely with Terrasen and its queen, both of which I would protect with my life. You can rest knowing my particular skills will only be used for you, not against.” Rowan spoke firmly to hopefully convey how serious he was, and he would have continued had Rhoe not butted in yet again.

“You are blood sworn to Maeve, don’t think I am unaware, you have no choice where your allegiances lie.”

“That oath was broken by Maeve herself. I am now bound to Aelin completely, by ties even stronger than blood.” Rowan had to admit, witnessing Rhoe Galathynius’ face as he explained the situation was quite amusing. “As I was about to say before, I am Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, mate and husband of Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen. I will, in fact, be traveling to Terrasen with you. The whole purpose of this caravan is to bring me back to my mate, but we are more than happy to have you join us.”

The wry look Aedion gave Rowan indicated that he had not hid his satisfaction well. How could he blame him, though? It wasn’t every day you got to tell your mate’s resurrected parents that you were soul bound to their daughter.

@rowaelinforeverworld

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#the phoenix effect #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #celaena sardothien #sam x celaena #sam cortland #aedion ashryver #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #lysaedion #nehemia ytger #gavriel #rhoe galathynius #evalin ashryver galathynius #SJM #sjm fanfic #sjmaas #sjm fic #sarah j maas #tog #tog fic #tog fanfiction #tog fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

[andaleduardo]

How to Break Your Heart and Make Sure It Stays Broken

Read the 1st chapter on ao3

Summary:  In which 15-year-old Richie confesses his feelings for Eddie on New Year’s Eve and they don’t talk about it for the next 4 years.

31st December 2010, Friday

 “Would you put that thing down for one second?”

Richie looks up from the phone screen to his mother’s eyes. “Mom, this is the future. Do you want me to put the future down?”

“I want you to get off that sofa and help us serve the champagne.”

“Don’t make us regret giving you the future, Richie.” His father added as he entered the living room with a bottle of champagne on one hand and one of sparkling apple juice in the other.

“Fine.” He pockets the phone as he gets up to clean up the dinner plates. “But I gotta text the losers at midnight, we have a group chat on Facebook now-”

“Yes, son, we know. That’s all you’ve been talking about lately.” Wentworth interrupts while fumbling with the cork on the sparkling juice bottle.

“One day I’ll figure out why adults hate technology!” Richie shouts as he enters the kitchen. He places the plates on the sink and grabs three champagne glasses from the special collection his mom owns before going back to the living room. These things look like they’ll break if you so much as breathe in their direction.

“We don’t hate technology.” Maggie complains as she tries to rub away a stain in the tablecloth. “You kids just love it too much.”

That makes Richie laugh. “You don’t even let dad teach you how to use his comput-

The juice bottle’s cork comes off with a loud POP! that startles Richie and sends one of the glasses tumbling down onto the carpeted floor. It shatters into a million pieces despite the soft surface.

“Richie!” His mom cries out loud.

“I’m sorry!” Quickly, he places down the two survivor glasses. He can hear his dad trying not to laugh.

“Your grandma gifted these to us after we got married…” She laments as she looks at the sparkling shards at their feet.

“I’ll clean this up, you two be careful not to step on it.” Went adds before going to get the vacuum cleaner from the bottom of the pantry.

“I am sorry.”

With a sigh, Maggie hugs him sideways. “It’s okay, I guess we’ll never have 10 people over at the same time.”

“Yeah, we probably won’t.”

 Once the carpet is clean, the champagne and false champagne are served and there’s only 5 minutes left till midnight, Richie takes his phone out and opens Eddie’s contact. He stares at the text he wrote probably 4 hours ago and reads it over and over again just to really make sure there’s no mistakes.

The thing is, tonight, Richie is going to fuck up his entire life. Or, at least that’s what it feels like.

You see, Eddie was the last of the group to get a phone. He got it on Christmas as a gift from his uncle, and needless to say Sonia didn’t like the idea. She only gave it to him one or two days ago after she figured out how to make it as “safe” as possible for his son. That means Eddie has exactly 3 numbers on his contact list. The number to his house, the number to Bill’s house, and Bill’s number. Because, apparently, that’s the only friend of Eddie’s Sonia trusts.

Stan’s Jewish, Mike is home-schooled (and black, although Sonia never admits that’s the real reason she doesn’t like the boy), Ben moved into town not so long ago, Bev is a girl, and Richie is Richie.

Bill’s family goes to church every Sunday and they’ve known each other ever since both boys were little. Hence why Eddie’s contact list is sadder than the life of their math teacher.

But Richie is weirdly thankful for this because that means Eddie doesn’t have his number. However, Bill texted them Eddie’s contact yesterday, saying they probably shouldn’t send him anything before school starts because Sonia will most likely check his phone.

Well, Sonia can go to hell because Richie is about to do something very stupid.

He’s a true romantic at heart, alright? Plus, he’s been in love with Eddie since he was twelve (or at least he realized it when he was twelve) and this secret is starting to claw up at his insides as if he had swallowed a dysfunctional cat.

In other words, it’s driving him crazy and he has to do something about it.

Now, he’s not mental. He’s not going to confess his feelings or anything. Right, as if. He’s simply going to become a secret admirer or something cheesy like that.

Yesterday, he sneaked into his dad’s computer while both his parents were taking an afternoon nap and searched for “romantic quotes” on Google. He typed down the one he liked the most, deleted the history, and then tried to convince himself this wasn’t the worst plan of his entire life.

It seemed like a very clever plan the closer to midnight it got.

“Alright, my loves.” Maggie gives everyone their respective glass. The non-alcoholic, sad-looking one for Richie, and the fun-looking ones for the adults. Bullshit, if you ask him.

“How come I never get to drink the real thing?”

“Well, you hate it.” Maggie shrugs. “You’ve said so the past two years that we’ve let you had one sip for the toast.”

“But I’m older now, I can handle it.”

“You can try it again after you finish that.” Went tips his cup in the direction of Richie’s. Naturally, Richie throws his head back and drinks the apple juice in one gulp, almost cutting his lip in the process. Seriously, these things are that thin.

“Done.” He announces as he fills the cup with champagne. “Now we can have a real toast.”

Both adults laugh and soon the countdown begins. Richie screams the numbers along with his parents, keeping his thumb over the ‘send’ button at the same time.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

He presses down, the text is sent, and he pockets his phone once again to click his fragile cup against his parents’. As expected, it tastes just as awful as he remembers. He spits it out much like last year, and they all go outside to see the fireworks.

  00:00 To: Spaghetti <3

And I just wanted to say that your smile reminds me that not all art is created with a pencil and a paintbrush.

  His phone vibrates at exactly 00:49, which means Richie is already in his bedroom because that’s how New Year works in his family. They stay home, celebrate till the fireworks die down, and then part ways at the end of the hallway.

He interrupts Charlie the goldfish’s dinner and checks his phone only to let the little container of fish’s food fall off his hand. Thankfully, it was closed.

 00:49 From: Spaghetti <3

Richie?

Did you steal that from your mom’s poetry collection, asshole? :P

 Charlie the goldfish fades out from his peripheral vision. Richie sits down before he collapses and bursts through the floor right onto their cold, lifeless basement.

 What the fuck?

Seriously.

What the actual fuck?

 With shaky hands, he types out a reply.

 Richie: what makes you think it’s richie?

 Spaghetti <3: Bill gave me everyone’s numbers

Spaghetti <3: I don’t have them saved yet because of my mom, though

Spaghetti <3: Why? Is this not Richie? Did Bill give me the wrong number?

 Fucking Bill. Now, Richie’s pacing the entire floor of his bedroom, knowing he’d walk right up to the celling if he could. He keeps staring at the small screen, wondering if he could save his ass by turning this shitty device off. His mom is right, technology sucks.

 Spaghetti <3: Hello??

 Shit.

 Richie: hahaha you got me Eds

Richie: c’est moi

 Then he hesitates for a second.

 Richie: sooo, are we good?

Spaghetti <3: Yeah, of course

Spaghetti <3: Why shouldn’t we be?

 Oh. Oh. So, Eddie didn’t take him seriously. He took it as one of his weird jokes.

Here’s a getaway, Richie. You can play it off as prank, Richie. You can still walk away from this without completely ruining a friendship, Richie. Please take the opportunity, Richie.

 Richie: you don’t get it

 Shut the fuck up, Richie.

 Spaghetti <3: What?

 Richie: well

Richie: actually

Richie: you see

Spaghetti <3: Richie, spit it out you’re stressing me

Richie: right

Richie: you see

Spaghetti <3: You’ve said that before

Richie: correct I see your point Eds

Spaghetti <3: Not my name

Richie: the thing is

Richie: jesus I hope you forgive me

Richie: okay so

Richie: i don’t have a crush on you

Richie: i’m pretty sure that I love you

 There’s about a million smooth ways to say that you love someone. But Richie doesn’t choose one of those. Fitting.

It takes a few minutes before Eddie says something back. In those minutes, Richie starts crying.

 Spaghetti <3: Oh

It’s as vague as it can get, but one can take the hint.

Richie: i’m sorry

Spaghetti <3: You don’t have to apologize

Spaghetti <3: How long..?

 Richie: uh, since March?

 Which is a lie.

 Spaghetti <3: That’s a long time…

 Richie wants to laugh, then scream, then he wants to be able to stop crying.

 Spaghetti <3: Can we still be friends?

 On second thought, he doesn’t want to laugh.

 Richie: only if you still want to Spaghetti <3: Of course I want to Rich

Spaghetti <3: Don’t even say that

 Well, that’s good.

Richie: well that’s good

Richie: i’m sorry Eddie

Spaghetti <3: Don’t apologize asshole

Spaghetti <3: It’s fine I swear

 And then a few more minutes.

 Spaghetti <3: Happy new year

  The phone gets thrown, landing somewhere along the end of the bed. The blurry digital clock on his bedside table says it’s already 1:13 a.m. and by its side lays Charlie the goldfish’s tank.

It’s small, but it’s not a fishbowl. Richie learnt that lesson with his first goldfish, Oli. Poor her.

He follows Charlie’s swimming around a rock. A fish’s life seems peaceful and blissful and delightful and wonderful and many other adjectives ending in ‘ful’. Except for Oli’s life, of course. At this moment Richie’s life feels pretty much like Oli’s.

He sighs through another wet sob.

“Happy fucking new year, Charlie.”

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[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (5/18)

Chapter 5: Do It Simply

Nick and Madelyn have a heart-to-heart while on a stakeout in Quincy. After some time apart, Deacon shows up at Madelyn’s apartment encouraging her to give the Railroad another chance. When she agrees, Desdemona sends them to a Bunker Hill contact who needs assistance in smuggling somebody out of the Commonwealth—somebody who may have been witness to Eddie Winter’s crimes. Outside of the Ticonderoga safehouse, a suspicious man catches Deacon’s eye and the entire operation goes up in flames.

“If you're going to kill someone, do it simply.” - Johnnie Aysgarth as played by Cary Grant (Suspicion, 1941)

x - x

[read on Ao3] ~  [chapter masterpost]

February 11th, 1958

“I should’ve warned you this would turn into a stakeout.”

Madelyn shivered as she glanced over to Nick from the passenger seat of his Cadillac, tugging the collar of her coat around her shoulders a little tighter. Of all the times they had decided to follow Eddie Winter across town, it had to be the night when a flurry had delivered nearly three inches of snow. Needless to say, she was freezing, half tempted to bum one of Nick’s cigarettes if only to heat up her body in some way. The smoke from his own wafted in the air above his head as he mumbled incoherently, binoculars glued toward the building a few hundred feet away. They’d been sitting like that for a few hours with no movement.

“Damn Winter, thinking we have all night to sit on him,” he muttered, cigarette bobbing between his lips.

“It’s not like we have much else going for us,” Madelyn replied, sifting through the small stack of case files across her lap, ones she had brought with them in their mad dash to Quincy. Ever since the Earl Sterling case, their primary focus had been on Eddie Winter’s activities, mostly because the agency hadn’t received a new job in weeks. There had been dry spells before, but this time it was obvious they were being punished by the Boston Police Department for their involvement in capturing Doctor Crocker. It wasn’t fair, it never was, but there was little they could do but keep investigating.

“Don’t remind me,” Nick grumbled, lowering the binoculars to look at her. “Are we sure this is the right place?”

She hummed, flicking through the various files. They were all labeled in her neat handwriting—WINTER—filled with various leads and rumors from the street, one of which had led them to the Quincy police department. With a nod, Madelyn flashed a sideways smile. “Maybe they’ve got a secret underground bunker.”

Nick wasn’t about to dismiss anything, eyebrow quirking up. “You might be onto something there.”

She softly chuckled, scribbling the words down, even if she felt foolish—not every organization in town had an underground tunnel system, right? As Nick continued to scope out the building, she flicked through her notebook absentmindedly until a loose-leaf of paper fluttered down to her feet. She had nearly forgotten about it, the instructions Drummer Boy had dropped off nearly two weeks ago, directing her to another meeting with the Railroad. Her conscious reprimanded her for making up an excuse for not attending, but at the time, she wasn’t ready to face the group again.

She hadn’t seen Desdemona—or Deacon—since their little adventure beneath Slocum’s Joe. Foolishly, she believed that space would set her mind straight, that her emotions would level out after introspection and some time alone. What she hadn’t realized was that her life had already been drastically altered: Nick believed the Railroad to be a valuable ally, she had an agent for a neighbor, and despite everything, she couldn’t get that stupid, silly, enigmatic man named Deacon out of her mind.

“Another mysterious note?”

“What?” Madelyn snapped her eyes up and over to where Nick was looking back to her with all the curiosity in the world. She couldn’t lie to him, not when it was his job to find the truth. “More or less of the same, requesting me to visit their headquarters beneath the church again. It’s…outdated though. I didn’t go.”

“You have been spending a lot more time at the agency,” he mentioned, stubbing out his smoke in the tiny metal tray of the Cadillac’s center console. “You ready to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head?”

“Don’t flatter me, Nick,” she playfully chastised, before shifting as her legs became restless. “We don’t have to cut the Railroad out as a point of contact, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He didn’t say anything, but the detective always had a certain look about him, a glimmer to his eyes when he knew there was more to the story being told. She sighed, staring back down at the typewritten note and continued. “I just…needed some time.”

Nick took a moment, glancing out the window to confirm that there had yet to be any movement on the building they were watching. Only then did he divert his full attention to her.

“I’ve been meaning to apologize,” he paused, waving his hand in protest when she went to interject. What did he have to say sorry for? “I overstepped some boundaries a few weeks ago, insinuated something I shouldn’t’ve between you and that Deacon fellow.”

Madelyn wasn’t upset with Nick, but hearing his words was somewhat comforting. Though, she was sure she would’ve been in her head about the situation regardless of the lighthearted teasing from her partner and his fiancé. She should be the one apologizing—for dragging her feet, for being distracted, for being stuck in the past. Nick wasn’t the only one she owed that to, but she didn’t dwell on that thought.

“My only hope is that one day, not tomorrow or even this year,” Nick said, treading lightly. “Is that you will be able to move on. It doesn’t have to be with the first handsome guy you meet that makes you smile, but you don’t deserve to live out the rest of your days alone. I don’t want to pretend to know what Nate would’ve wanted for you,” he hesitated, reaching over to place his hand over hers. The cold material of the prosthetic sent a shiver up her arm, but otherwise, his touch was comforting as always. “But this isn’t it.”

Madelyn knew that Nick was right—almost hated that he was. But she couldn’t be mad at his advice, or the mild-mannered way he delivered it. If she had been paying attention, he’d been gently nudging her towards this for months—the grieving counseling sessions, dinner parties, case work that had her interacting with all sorts of people. Her friend was doing the best he could to ensure she had all the opportunities to break out of the shell she had buried herself in for the past year, and for that she was grateful.

“I know,” she finally admitted, a truth that made her stomach uneasy. It was freeing, but the remorse still lingered. “Its tough Nick, to let people in. Not like before when I could trust everyone and anyone despite years of law school telling me otherwise,” she softly laughed, more to herself. “But now? I have my support group. I have my friends. To let anyone else in is dangerous, and to let anyone too close is foolish.”

She didn’t necessarily mean to think about a specific person—certainly not a certain Railroad agent who had stirred up these emotions within her in the first place—she tried to focus on the broader aspect of what Nick was stating.

“You’re right, but it’s so hard,” she steadied her breath so she wouldn’t break down in a fit of sobs like she had been doing so often in the last few weeks when she thought about her departed husband. Codsworth, her newly activated Mister Handy butler, wasn’t sure what to make of her outbursts. “I think of Nate, and the guilt is overbearing. It isn’t right—not when he’s dead, his killer still out there somewhere. I don’t get to move on like nothing happened.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Nick contended, calmly. He fidgeted, lighting up a new cigarette to calm his nerves, or perhaps get rid of the chill surrounding them from the snow outside the vehicle. “What I’m saying is that you should take one day at a time, just as you’ve been doing. Just—” he paused to exhale a small cloud of smoke, waving it away from her. “Be less afraid, especially when somebody dares to breach the walls around your heart.”

Madelyn let his words resonate with her and really settle in her mind. Ever since Nate’s death she had been taking life slowly, but at the cost of living a half-life. She wasn’t herself—hadn’t been for a long while—and even she knew it was well past a reasonable time to be wallowing in self-pity. Perhaps it would be okay to let her guard down, allow her personality to shine after months of fading to the background. She needed to do right by her husband’s memory and live—she couldn’t do that if she was constantly torturing herself. Finally, she nodded, signaling to her partner that she understood. More than that, she agreed.

“Speaking of the heart,” she deftly changed the subject, flashing a teasing grin. “Valentine’s Day is this Friday. Have any plans with Jenny?”

Nick smirked, anticipating nothing less from her. “If I didn’t have plans, it would be a disservice to the family name, don’t you think? Jenny would have me take her name at the registrar’s office.”

“Mr. Lands,” Madelyn snickered. “Lands’ Detective Agency,” she tested, imagining the flashing neon light that hung above the office door. “God Nick, we’re already suffering enough. We don’t need a name change to put a nail in the coffin.”

“Good thing I’ve got Friday in the bag then,” he smiled, without any indication he planned to indulge any details. “The future Mrs. Valentine won’t be disappointed.”

Rather than be jealous, she could only be happy for Nick and Jenny—two people that were so in love and so impeccably made for each other it was surprising they had waited so long to tie the knot. Madelyn was too close of a friend with both of them to feel anything but joy for their relationship, even when she had nobody to go home to after long nights on the job. Well, nobody except Dogmeat and Codsworth.

Maybe her time for happiness would come sooner, rather than later, if she allowed it.

“It’s late,” Nick spoke, interrupting her thoughts. He lifted the binoculars to take one last glance towards the Quincy police station, confirming there had been no further movement. “Time to call this a bust?”

Madelyn agreed. “Bust.” 

February 14th, 1958

Madelyn could hear Bobby Darin playing on the radio from the kitchen as she sat at her vanity that morning, smiling to herself as she listened to Codsworth rummaging around and yammering on while he conversed with Dogmeat in the kitchen. A year ago, she would’ve never assumed she would one day find this aspect of her life normal or comforting, but now, she couldn’t imagine her apartment without the robot butler or German Shepard.

After three weeks, she had finally adjusted to having Codsworth activated, the Mister Handy robot proving to be convenient in more ways than one. At first, it was alarming at how devoted he was to serve her—anticipating her every need and hovering over her every action. Madelyn was appreciative, but being the independent woman that she was, set some ground-rules for the robot to follow so she wouldn’t feel so crowded or coddled in her own home. With some semblance of a routine, she felt her life taking shape once again—even if it seemed more suited for a television sitcom starring Betty White.

She had just finished adjusting her curls when there was a knock at the door, the sound echoing through the hall to her bedroom. Codsworth’s chipper voice resonated from the front room after a few mysterious clanks of her pots and pans. “I shall see who is at the door, mum!”

For a fleeting moment, she figured it must be Nick, there for an early morning visit on his way to the agency. They would typically car-pool to the Fens district throughout the week but as she glanced to her flip calendar on the table, she realized her partner had more important obligations—Valentine’s Day. That’s when her mind switched over and began running through the rather short list of possible visitors who would be at her door before eight on a Friday morning. Piper would’ve called first. Jenny was with Nick. MacCready didn’t know where she lived, neither did Hancock—at least she hoped that was true. Drummer Boy would’ve slipped a note under the door. Madelyn groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose at the possibility it was Deacon.

“Miss Madelyn!” Codsworth sounded confused as he called for her and she was already standing, tightly securing the tie of her silken robe around her body for decency’s sake before striding down the hall towards the living room. The robot was hovering before her open front door. “This man claims to be the milkman, but I do believe we’ve already received our delivery for the week. Is this another alteration to the schedule?”

It was definitely Deacon.

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she approached to stand next to Codsworth, if only to confirm what she already suspected. Bright smile, black hair styled up and of course—it wouldn’t be Deacon without his darkened shades. At least the milkman costume was a nice touch. She had to admit that the effort the man went through for an act was impressive, if not amusing.

“I get the feeling you’ve been avoiding me, Charmer,” he frowned, though she could tell he was bluffing.

Madelyn glanced to her Mister Handy unit, who—if she had gotten any better at reading the machine—appeared bewildered. “Codsworth, honey, what did I say about opening the door to strange men?”

“Oh! Right!” he exclaimed, raising his arms in defense. He moved so the bulk of his frame blocked her from Deacon’s view. “Shall I stick ‘em mum?”

She couldn’t contain her laughter, snapping a hand to cover her mouth at the sight of Codsworth hovering threateningly before Deacon, dressed in all-white with an equally entertained expression. She stepped closer, resting a hand against the robot’s cold metal frame. “That won’t be necessary, dear. I was only joking.”

“Are you to say you know this…milkman?” Codsworth questioned, before spinning his arms frantically as he moved back into the apartment on his way towards the kitchen. “Will he be joining us for breakfast? I will need to prepare another plate!”

Before she could interject or protest, Deacon was crossing the threshold with a beaming grin. He was carrying a metal basket just as a real milk deliveryman would and she wondered where he had managed to find such a convincing getup. Instead of white bottles rattling inside there was a brown packaged box and a small bouquet of flowers wrapped in parchment. Madelyn sidestepped around him to the door and contemplated asking him politely to leave but decided against being rude. She owed him a face-to-face conversation after so many weeks of silence.

“A Mister Handy unit?” Deacon spoke before she could, turning to face her. “I guess everybody needs a three-eyed metal husband.”

Madelyn snickered, glancing over to where Codsworth was balancing several tasks at once—eggs over the stove, coffee on the pot and bread in the toaster—all the while humming along to whatever song was filtering through the nearby radio. “Remind me to look into the legalities of marrying artificial intelligence. He may be flighty, but he knows his way around the kitchen.”  

“You just haven’t had me cook you breakfast yet,” Deacon replied matter-of fact. He lifted the basket he carried, changing the subject before she could respond to his remark. “I come bearing gifts.”

She nodded towards the kitchen island, motioning for him to sit on one of the barstools while she circled to the other side. It was a calculated move, wanting to put as much space between them as possible for now. Deacon placed the box on the counter and nudged it towards her. “This is from Irma. Said she couldn’t believe you walked out last time without one.”

Madelyn opened the package to discover a freshly baked blueberry pie, the smell an instant trigger for her mind, sending her back to the brief visit within the Memory Den. At least that all but confirmed what she already suspected—that Irma worked for the Railroad in some capacity. Deacon tapped a few fingers against the empty plate set before him and she sighed before turning to rummage through a drawer for a pie-cutter. Facing away from him, she heard his small chuckle.

“That’s a delicate little number you’ve got on,” he commented. She wasn’t alarmed by his statement, almost expecting it—if anything, she was glad to hear the mirth in his tone as if their quickly formed dynamic hadn’t changed.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, watching as he poured two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice from the pitcher Codsworth had placed. “I wasn’t expecting a visitor.”

Deacon let out a low whistle. “Silk and lace says otherwise, Charmer.”

“Had to look nice for my metal husband on Valentine’s Day,” she joked, sliding up to Codsworth who was none-the-wiser. It was a shame the robot had a difficult time processing sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Mum, I do hope you aren’t planning on spoiling breakfast by eating that pie,” he responded, ruining her act. The Handy unit returned to preparing their morning meal, crisping the bacon on the griddle pan. Dogmeat whined as he circled around the kitchen island, stopping to sniff at Deacon’s feet. He regarded the dog with a smile before lifting the second item from the metal basket, handing the flowers to her and swapping for the pie cutter.

Madelyn examined the bunch of white daisies mixed with blue forget-me-nots, inhaling their sweet scent as she looked over at him. He was cutting slices, ignoring the way Codsworth was peering at him with one, zoomed in eye. The significance of the flowers wasn’t lost on her—forget-me-nots—it wasn’t entirely subtle, even for Deacon. She searched through her cabinets for a vase, delicately arranging the stems and petals as she poured some water inside.

“Irma insisted I couldn’t show up to your place empty handed, given the holiday,” he explained. “As you can imagine, all the flower shops from North End to Cambridge were out of roses.”

She had a difficult time determining if he was being sincere, or if he had really gone through the effort. For all she knew, he could’ve bummed the bouquet off some unsuspecting fella on the street corner. Madelyn decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that he had scoured all the floral shops along the Charles River just for her sake.

“I prefer these,” she replied with a soft smile. He regarded her with a softer expression, though she would’ve liked to know what his eyes looked like behind the sunglasses. Madelyn had resigned herself to the simple fact that she likely never would and would have to guess that they were trained on her—it certainly felt that way, with how her skin tickled with goosebumps.

“Good,” he replied, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. Deacon poked at the slice of blueberry pie he had set on the plate before him with a fork, scooping up a generous bite. “One bite won’t hurt.”

It wasn’t until his arm started moving across the counter space that she realized what his intentions were, and she reflexively stepped back, bumping into Codsworth who was ready to serve their food. She scrambled to move out of the way, realizing the only place for her was the empty barstool next to Deacon. Reluctantly, she joined him on the other side, unable to ignore the way he was still holding the utensil out in offering with a ridiculous, expectant smile. Madelyn braced her nerves and reminded herself it could be another exercise in trust—a rather bizarre exercise—and leaned over the short distance, wrapping her lips around the fork to take the bite. To his credit, the blueberry pie was delicious and so was his momentarily shocked appearance—he hadn’t expected her to comply.

“Breakfast is served!” Codsworth interrupted their strange encounter with his announcement, metal arms whizzing around as he placed the steaming piles of food on the center counter.

The two served themselves, eating in a comfortable silence with the occasional sideways glance and shared smile. The robot continued to whirr as he floated around looking for a new task to attend to while Dogmeat successfully begged for bacon scraps at their feet. Madelyn quickly noticed how domestic the scene looked and felt, even with Deacon dressed up as some imposter milkman. Just like having the dog and the Mister Handy unit was abnormally normal, she felt a strange sense of calm with having the Railroad spy next to her. She wasn’t ready to confront what deeper emotions she possibly had whispering beneath the surface, but intuition told her it was time to stop running and let fate do its job.

“I’ll be honest,” she started, clearing her throat as she set her napkin down. “I may have been avoiding the Railroad.”

“So, it wasn’t just me?” Deacon teasingly asked. “Listen, I know our organization can be a handful, intimidating even. You haven’t even met the rest of the gang yet. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted out,” he paused, head turned towards her. “It’d be a damn shame though.”

“I participated in one job,” she replied. “If you could call me following you around underground in a sewer participation. How is that impressive in any way?”

“I’m easy that way,” he shrugged. “Dez calls the shots, not me. Even if I told her you were dead weight, which I wouldn’t dream of describing you as, she doesn’t seem ready to let you go so soon.”

Madelyn had to wonder just what Deacon had described her as to the Railroad leader. Probably something with too many adjectives while being overzealous and dramatic with hand-movements, if she had to guess. She focused on the important part—despite her radio silence, Desdemona wanted her to stay aboard.

“Is that why you’re here now?” she asked. “To check up on Agent Charmer? Bring me back into the fold?”

He waved a piece of crispy bacon at her, frowning. “Don’t sell my social calls so short. You won’t see me buying flowers for Drummer Boy.”

“Maybe he should invest in silk nightgowns,” she joked, snatching half the piece of meat from his hand.

He let out an airy chuckle while she chewed, eating the rest that he had before shaking his head. “Dez doesn’t know I’m here. She thinks I’m at Bunker Hill, working on setting up a meeting with one of our old contacts. I thought I’d see if my partner wanted to join in on the fun before I go.”

The fact he still considered her his partner after one Railroad outing was endearing. Madelyn still had her reservations, but she knew the organization deserved more than to be written off after one excursion. She softly laughed to herself. “What is with you guys and tourist traps?”

Deacon’s smile gradually increased. “What can I say? We’re a quirky, history loving bunch.”

“What’s the job this time?” she asked, curiously.

“Carrington asked me to find out if one our old Bunker Hill contacts, Old Man Stockton, was still in operation,” he began. “He was a big player back when we were moving people regularly in and out of the city. Now that we’re down on our luck, he’s gone back to his old line of work.”

“Under our current circumstances, we wouldn’t accept an escort job, but the Doc made it sound imperative the subject be moved as soon as possible,” Deacon explained further. “If Dez cleared it, then we’re in the green to proceed.”

Madelyn was astounded by the notion that they could and would help a person willingly disappear but figured an individual must be desperate to turn to an underground organization instead of vanishing on their own. She wanted to know more and the only way to do that was to go along with Deacon again.

“What do you say, Charmer?” he asked, one eyebrow arced high above his shades.

She nodded, flashing a tiny grin. “You’ve got yourself a partner, Deacon.”

He laughed, reaching over to clasp his hand on her shoulder as he brought her in for a quick, sideways hug. Madelyn was startled by the show of friendliness but didn’t express it, swiftly channeling her alarm into ease—she didn’t mind the warmth and feel of his hand on her at all—she actually liked it. He leaned away, fingers trailing across her back before withdrawing fully.

“You know,” he said in a sing-song way. “I noticed you don’t flinch away from physical contact. You aren’t shy. Unlike most people.”

“Most people are uncomfortable with the notion of physical touch, sure,” Madelyn agreed. It figured he had been studying her behavior. “I—I find it comforting.”

Deacon turned to her and she could feel his stare through the reflective shades. Heat spread through her chest the longer the silence stretched between them until his lips pulled up into a sideways smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

February 16th, 1958

On Sunday, Deacon returned to Madelyn’s apartment with a dead drop from Old Man Stockton, confirming the rendezvous point in which a face-to-face meeting would occur. They were to meet the Bunker Hill contact at the Cambridge Catholic Assembly church after dark, long after the parishioners had gone home for the day. The two had been sitting in the empty church for what felt like hours, occupying one of the last few pews while they waited for Stockton to arrive. Madelyn found herself distracted by the moonlight pouring in through the picture frame windows of the towering steeple, dumbfounded that once again she found herself in a place of worship. Just as she began reminiscing about Nate’s funeral service and the hymns the priest sung, she shut her eyes tight, blocking the memory from overpowering her thoughts.

Deacon’s gloved hand bumped against hers. “Charmer?”

“Tourist traps, churches,” she mused. “Why can’t it be amusement parks?”

“You don’t want to know who runs Nuka World,” he mumbled, fingers idly trailing along her wrist where her watch rested until she opened her eyes. “I didn’t expect it to take this long. If we’ve been had…”

“I hope not,” she replied, glancing down to confirm it was midnight. “At this rate, you’ll owe me breakfast.”

He grinned and nudged his shoulder against hers. “I did promise you I, didn’t I?”

The church’s front door squeaked open, interrupting the two from their banter and they stood to meet the approaching visitors. Two men, an older one dressed in a business suit and coat, the younger one dressed in shabbier denim with a winter jacket and cap. The older gentleman approached as the other stood back, looking anxious.

“Do you have a Geiger counter?” he asked, signaling the Railroad key phrase.

“Mine is in the shop,” Deacon replied in kind. “Stockton, good to see you. Carrington sends his regards.”

Stockton nodded, though he didn’t seem concerned with pleasantries as he observed their surroundings before gesturing to the younger man. “I won’t be long. This is Henry. Henry, these are the people I talked to you about,” he shifted towards the back window where a lantern was. “I’ll fire up the signal.”

Madelyn extended her arm to Henry. “Nice to meet you,” she offered politely. “You can call me…Charmer.”

The man nervously gripped her hand and shook it meekly. “Thank you.”

“Time for me to go,” Stockton stated, still scanning the church as if he was waiting for someone or something to jump out and discover them. “Keep Henry safe. Someone will be here shortly.”

He regarded Deacon with one last steely look before making a swift exit. Madelyn glanced to her partner in confusion, wondering if the Old Man’s departure was all part of the plan. He shrugged but didn’t appear nervous about the change—she’d never seen Deacon anything but calm and collected, anything to the contrary would be alarming. The three stood quietly, Henry continuing to keep his distance as the lantern burned in the window. At twelve-thirty, footsteps echoed outside the church, but the doors didn’t open right away. Madelyn and Deacon exchanged a quick glance and at the sound of more rustling, she withdrew her pistol from her handbag—she figured he might be carrying as well but insisted if either of them was going to brandish a weapon it was going to be the one with connections to the District Attorney’s office.

The two blocked Henry from sight as the large oak door finally creaked open and a figure shadowed by the night creeped in. Unable to determine if they were friend or foe, Madelyn trained her weapon, even if she wasn’t entirely convinced that she would be able to shoot. Upon noticing the group standing near the pews the intruder stopped dead in his tracks, raising his hands defensively.

“Don’t shoot!” he exclaimed before hesitantly taking a few steps closer. Under the dim lighting, she observed the man’s appearance closely—dark skin, warm brown eyes and a black hair shaved down to the stubble. Even though it was still blistering cold out, he seemed unbothered, wearing only jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket with some laced-up Chucks. Even with a gun pointed at him, the man smiled. “Charmer, right?”

He flicked his gaze to her side but didn’t dare to move his arms. “And my man, Deacon. Still wearing sunglasses at night?”

Before her partner could react, she intervened. “Do you have a Geiger counter?”

“Right you are,” he responded, impressed. “Mine is in the shop. All good?”

Madelyn looked to Deacon who nodded, flashing a grin. “High Rise, it’s been a while.”

“Three months since I’ve seen your ugly mug,” High Rise laughed as they exchanged a firm but friendly handshake. He glanced over to Madelyn with cheeky smile as she made to place her pistol back into her purse. “So, this is Charmer? The one who helped with the Switchboard, while you sat on the sidelines.”

She shot a raised eyebrow in Deacon’s direction, but he only offered a sheepish shrug in return. She could only imagine the kind of fanatical stories he had been spreading about her while she had been away. High Rise continued, reaching his hand out to her. “Glad you joined the team.”

Madelyn reciprocated his handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Honor’s all mine,” he replied before tilting his head to get a better look at Henry who had hunkered down in one of the pews. “How’s our friend doing?”

With all the attention suddenly focused on him, Henry slouched further back into the wooden seat. Madelyn took a few cautious steps closer, not wanting to startle him any further. “Are you alright?”

“Mister Stockton…he said I shouldn’t talk too much,” he replied in a shaky voice, eyes darting between the group of people standing. She sat down next to him, deciding to take a softer approach.

“Would you like to tell me what brought you here?” she asked, carefully. At his silence, she nodded, encouraging him. “You can trust us, Henry. We’ll protect you.”

He still seemed skeptical—lips twisted to the side as he avoided looking at any of them. “I—I need to get as far away from Boston as possible,” he said, voice trembling. “I’m afraid for my life.”

“What’s got you so spooked?” Deacon questioned.

Henry shook his head, remaining tightlipped. “If I say, you’d be in danger too.”

“We’re already helping you get out of the city,” High Rise pointed out the flaw in Henry’s resistance. “Might as well double down and let us know of any potential threats coming our way.”

Another moment of silence passed as Henry contemplated answering, fidgeting in the church pew. Finally, he breathed out, looking to Madelyn like a safe haven. “I witnessed a murder. Not just any murder. Last month, I was working as a dockhand on the Harbor when I saw the car pull up—”

Madelyn started adding up the details in her head and interrupted, nearly blurting out the words. “Johnny Montrano Junior?”

Henry’s eyes widened in shock and realization. “Y—yes, how do you know?”

“Some of us have day jobs,” Deacon assured, raising his eyebrows at Madelyn, silently reminding her to reel it in. “Nothing to worry about, we’re still the good guys.”

She nodded in agreement, desperately hoping he would believe them and continue. Henry took a deep breath before resuming his story. “It was late, and I was the last to leave the warehouse but when I saw the men and the guns I ran and hid behind some crates.”

“What did you see?” Madelyn asked.

What she wouldn’t give to have a tape deck to record his statements—she wondered if she’d ever be able to compel him to speak again, if she could ever track him down after he disappeared. Even with Deacon and High Rise as bystanders, a court would likely dismiss it as hearsay unless they heard it directly from the witness himself—probably why Henry wanted to leave Boston in the first place.  

Henry shivered, eyes glossed over in memory. “Everything.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” High Rise spoke, signaling to the dwindling flame in the lantern. “But we shouldn’t hang around here. We can talk more once we get Henry to the safehouse.”

Madelyn’s wanted to argue but she instinctively knew that staying in the church wasn’t the safest choice. She stood, straightening the lines of her dark coat—Deacon had insisted she wear it so they could not only blend into the shadows but coordinate.

“Safe to assume Ticonderoga has been moved, right?” he asked, looking towards High Rise for the answer.

He nodded in answer. “If you drive, I can show you the way. It’s not far.”

Madelyn chose to sit in the backseat of Deacon’s Volkswagen with Henry, wanting to gleam more information about the night he witnessed Johnny Montrano’s murder. Deacon held the door open for her, closing it even though High Rise had yet to climb into the passenger seat and the two exchanged a laugh about it while she retrieved a notebook from her purse. The engine roared to life and slowly they drove away from the Cambridge church.  

“So, you having fun yet, Charmer?” High Rise’s lighthearted tone caught her off guard. Beside her, Henry shifted uncomfortably. “With Deacon, I mean. Of all the people Dez could’ve paired a rookie with, you got stuck with—”

“Excuse me,” Deacon interrupted, turning down a street when High Rise directed him to. “We already have a group codename. The Big Sleep.”

High Rise chuckled. “You’re no Bogart.”

“That’s what I thought,” Madelyn announced, suppressing her laughter at Deacon’s offended gasp. At the next stop sign, he took a moment to glance over his shoulder at her, eyebrows raised. To her surprise, even Henry seemed momentarily amused by the group’s antics.

“Maybe James Dean,” High Rise offered with a hum. “I’m being generous with your age. And if you take the fake pompadour wig into play.”

Deacon grumbled, turning towards the other man with his lips in a straight line. Madelyn thought she would’ve been more surprised, but considering who High Rise was talking about, the revelation wasn’t all the shocking. It also explained why curiously, his eyebrows appeared too fair in color and why his hats never sat straight upon his head. A spy had his secrets, she supposed. Noting the stretch of silence, High Rise shifted, turning as much as possible to face Madelyn.

“Deacon may be a terrible liar, but it pays to have him on your side,” he stated.

Madelyn wondered about that, glancing up at the rearview mirror to catch a glance of Deacon’s reflection. Her own face was mirrored back in the flicker of his shades as he offered a tiny smirk. In the short time she had known him, he had offered up plenty of little white lies—nothing extravagant or harmful—and was evasive enough that she still considered him one giant mystery. Nonetheless, she trusted him, and the stunning realization sent a shockwave through her system.

“Another right up here,” High Rise announced.

Before she had a chance to collect her thoughts, Deacon had pulled the car along the curbside outside a tall, unlit building. She looked to Henry and the notepad in her lap, sighing in resignation—she’d have to ask her questions inside just as it was recommended earlier—there would be time, even if it took all night. High Rise exited the vehicle first, delight in his voice as he pointed up at the skyscraper.

“Home sweet home,” he announced before turning back to lean against the roof, looking in at Deacon and Madelyn. “All in a night’s work for you agent types, huh?”

She smiled. “Just part of the service.”

“I think I’m going to like you even more than Glory,” High Rise responded, cheekily.

Deacon twisted his body, arm slung over the seat to face her and Henry and seemed poised to say something when the car was flooded with light from an advancing vehicle. It parked on the curb behind them and a few moments later, the headlamps went dark as the engine died. Immediately, Madelyn was on edge.

“We were followed,” Henry was quick to assume, scrambling to try and remove himself from the car.

Even though she had difficulty seeing through his glasses, she could tell Deacon had his eyes trained on the other vehicle and the person behind the wheel. From her angle, she couldn’t tell what the immediate danger was. In the quiet, they heard a car door open and close. Minutes passed before the echo of footsteps followed in the opposite direction of where they were. Instead of relief, Deacon tensed, his arm reaching out for her before waving towards High Rise.

“Get Charmer out of here.”

Madelyn didn’t have time to be afraid as High Rise hauled her out of the backseat with little decorum, encouraging her to run in the other direction as he rushed to help Henry. She ran as fast as her heels would allow through the soft blanket of snow, panic building in her chest at the fear of the unknown. For a split second she hesitated, looking back over her shoulder to see how much distance she had made when a faint click echoed across the quiet plaza. At the same time, Deacon was in front of her, his body meeting hers in a swift collision as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, toppling them both to the ground. They were propelled forward by a large explosion—though Madelyn wasn’t sure what had happened until she was flat on the icy gravel, her head pounding and ears ringing from the lingering sound.

Deacon was still perched over her, resting half his body weight atop her as he shielded her from the distant smoke and flames. Madelyn blinked hard, adjusting her vision before realizing that his sunglasses were askew. Even in the dark of night she could see the faintest hint of what was underneath, and her heart skipped a beat. Blue. With trembling hands, she reached up, pushing them back into place.

His lips twisted into a small, sideways smirk. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Reality sunk in as he rolled away, the two slowly leaning up to survey the damage. It was clear that the second vehicle had been planted with a bomb, set with a remote trigger and detonated by the mysterious driver. Deacon’s car was practically destroyed, and from where Madelyn was, she couldn’t see Henry or High Rise. But the devastation and intent was evident—they had been followed. The Railroad had been targeted again.

Ticonderoga Safehouse had just gone up in flames.

#fallout 4 #fallout au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #deacon #nick valentine #codsworth #this chapter has some of my favorite codsworth lines ever #more banter and EXPLOSIONS #also more slow burn #some canon dialogue is used here #boston after dark questline but noir

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 254: Who the Hell Is Bucky

Previously on BnHA: All Might welcomed 1-A back after the new year with a pun he’s probably been working on for the entire winter break, the poor man. Aizawa received a call :’) and drove down to Tartarus with Mic to meet up with Naomasa and Gran Torino. Nao and Gran were all “so you’ll NEVER GUESS, but we found out that Kurogiri’s quirk is apparently a FAKE QUIRK which was created from a bunch of other quirks -- AND GUESS WHICH ONE WAS THE ORIGINAL QUIRK?” and Aizawa was all (ಠ ∩ಠ), and Mic put a hand on his shoulder, and Nao was all “YEAH YOU DID GUESS, IT’S YOUR OLD DEAD PAL SHIRAKUMO, FROM CHAPTERS 59 THROUGH 65 OF VIGILANTES!” And okay, so (1) OH MY GOD, and (2) I originally thought this meant that Kurogiri is straight up a zombie!Shirakumo, but others pointed out that he might be some random other dude who just has Kumo’s quirk, among others. And like, okay. SO WHAT IS THE TRUTH.

Today on BnHA: Y’ALL HE REALLY IS A ZOMBIE!KUMO, AND NAOMASA AND GRAN BROUGHT AIZAWA AND MIC TO TALK TO HIM AND TRY TO RESTORE HIS MEMORIES SOMEHOW. Aizawa is all “this isn’t some fantasy world with happy endings, this is THE REAL WORLD WHERE MIRACLES DON’T HAPPEN!” but Gran is all “sometimes they do!” and Aizawa is like “!!” and so they sit down to chat with Kumo. Aizawa launches into a passionate speech about how great Kumo was and how he pulled him along and inspired him, and how he (Aizawa) is strict with his students now and -- get this -- FAKE-EXPELS THEM IN ORDER TO PUT THE FEAR OF GOD INTO THEM JUST ONCE LMAO, BUT IT’S BECAUSE HE CARES, and because he wants them to be great heroes and not hapless redshirts who get killed offscreen. And by the end of it he’s crying and imploring Shirakumo -- “if you’re still in there somewhere” -- to become heroes with him and Mic just like they always wanted. All of it is exactly as emotionally devastating as you would figure, btw.

you guys I have been playing hopscotch on my dash since yesterday trying to avoid spoilers about the popularity poll until I actually had time to write down my reactions! all I know is that of course Bakugou is #1 again, because this fandom always comes through lol. my other predictions are that the rest of the trio will receive lots of love again as well, and Hawks will once again be high on the list, and Aizawa too because of the Vigilantes flashbacks (at least HE BETTER), and probably the villains will get a big boost as well after their arc, Tomura in particular. and Endeavor might break the top 10 again too with the newest arc, although I can’t quite remember whether or not the poll was still going on by the time that started (ETA: actually I don’t think it was). but yeah. anyway so there’s a real possibility that most of the kids will actually be shut out of the top ranks because of these GROWN-UPS and VILLAINS stealing all their glory, smh. your time will come, kids

“more than anyone, you were a hero” oh is this chapter going to play with my feelings yet again. is this just going to happen every fucking week now. okay

HELL YEAH MY BOYS ON THE COVER

@unboundednamelessfuture, to answer your ask about whether I’m planning on watching Heroes Rising, the answer is a resounding YES, POSSIBLY EVEN MULTIPLE TIMES IN THEATERS IF I CAN SWING IT, because I’m pretty sure it’s actually just going to be All My Dreams Come True: The Movie. and yes I have seen some spoilers for it, although I’m not clear on whether or not they’re actual spoilers or just rumors. so because of that I won’t post my thoughts just yet, except to say that if it is true, see above re: All My Dreams Come True: The Movie, and also add a bunch more exclamation points at the end of the title omfg

anyway so my sons are famous now. they’re in Hollywood. good for them

AND NOW THE POLLLLLLLL YES

oh shit, I heard about “Deku & Bakugou Rising”, but is that out this week?? shit I’ll have to do a separate post if that’s the case. I’m assuming it’s more of a bonus chapter than an actual spinoff, kind of like the All Might chapter we got for the last movie. either way, to say I’m hyped would be a massive understatement, needless to say

(ETA: okay so I’ve seen Korean scanlations of this -- which I didn’t look at closely because spoilers -- but no English scans yet. so stay tuned!)

so I was wrong about the kids being shooed out of the top 10! I have never been so pleased to be wrong! so we have Kacchan at #1 (I love his face so much. ghlkhf), Deku at #2 (he beat Shouto this year! good for you!!), Shouto at #3 (wouldn’t be surprised if he and Deku were neck and neck again though), Kirishima at #4 (we stan one bright ray of sunshine), Iida at #5 (YOU DESERVE IT SO MUCH SWEETHEART. I’M SO GLAD FANDOM ISN’T SLEEPING ON THE ACTUAL BEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES), Tomura at #6 (DID YOU NOT GET THE MEMO ABOUT WEARING A NUMBER ON YOUR OUTFIT? MAKING ME FIGURE IT OUT FROM THE PROCESS OF ELIMINATION IS A REAL BASTARD MOVE. THEY SHOULD HAVE PUT YOU AT #8 TO MATCH YOUR CURRENT NUMBER OF FINGERS YOU STUPID SEXY JERK), Aizawa at #7 (THANK YOU FANDOM, YOU’VE REDEEMED YOURSELVES FROM LAST YEAR), Ochako at #8 (I LOVE YOUUUU), Toga at #9 (LADIES!!!!!!), and Momo at #10 (YES GIRRRRRL)

I think this is the strongest showing of ladies yet in the top ten (ETA: actually no, the second poll was slightly better) and I’m all about it. also can they all please keep these costume upgrades because YES. I don’t care if Horikoshi would get sick of drawing them. THAT’S WHAT ASSISTANTS ARE FOR. KATSUKI HAS A FUCKING BULLET BANDOLIER, COME ON, YOU CAN’T MAKE THIS JUST A ONE TIME THING YOU ASSCLOWNS, THIS IS FOR THE PEOPLE

lol here’s the abridged version of the Shirakumo flashbacks, I guess. everyone was saying last week how Vigilantes was now required reading, and like, I get that everyone’s excited about the crossover, but they still have to make this comprehensible for people who only read the main series. I’m guessing we’ll get the short version here, but Vigilantes gets to provide the more in-depth story for people who want to know more about everything, which is more or less what Vigilantes’s role has been in general

anyway so here’s Kumo doing his usual Naruto impression and cheerfully dooming himself by being ceaselessly optimistic and tempting fate’s sense of irony

you sure can! just so long as that crisis doesn’t involve big, heavy rocks, or gravity. I’m sorry kiddo

“‘let’s all form an agency together.’ it happened just after he said those words.” well there you have it, the BnHA equivalent of “one week left till my retirement.” hero training should really include a mandatory course titled Death Flags: The Silent Killers. there are children’s lives at stake here

lol yeah this really is abridged

“once upon a time we all wanted to be heroes and then Shirakumo got crushed by some rocks the end.” yeah, so maybe not quite the full emotional impact of the original lol

OH SHIT SON

so it is his reanimated corpse, then! which means the potential for him somehow dramatically regaining his memories is very high. since this is a shounen manga, I’m gonna go ahead and put it at... 100%. is that too low

guys I don’t know what to do when Present Mic is making faces like this

when even the Comic Relief Guy is getting all traumatized and serious, you know it’s bad. sob who will I turn to now for comfort. Horikoshi’s really just gonna go full dark no stars here and leave me just stumbling around lost

OH IF IT ISN’T THE ORIGINAL PIECE OF SHIT HIMSELF!!

yeah it makes perfect sense actually, you bastard. you steal the bodies from the crematorium and then give the families fake ashes or something. holy shit you really will not stop until you find the lowest possible level to stoop to, and then grab a fucking shovel and start digging so as to GO DOWN EVEN LOWER. just. god everything about this is just so wrong

oh btw, now seems like a good time to bring up this ask I got last week!

anon you blew my mind, just so you know. you’re absolutely right. so that’s one mystery down! though the way that this is going, I’m not so sure I’m gonna like any of the other answers that the Noumu arc is gonna provide us sob

holy shit look at this fucking simile

dead children = leftovers. sure why not. just in case we all forgot how evil he is

and also, YEAH BUDDY THAT’S WHAT I JUST FUCKING SAID, PLEASE KEEP UP. and who even knows how many other times AFO has done this. I hope they’ve started investigating crematoriums, then. I’m just waiting for them to make some connection that leads to them finally finding out about Ujiko, but that might take a while still

(ETA: although if they actually can get Kumo to talk...)

and did he really just solemnly call Mic “DJ” because omfg. Gran, are you the comic relief. do you even know. are you even aware

oh hey look another dagger to my heart

ouch. that was cold. and... not necessarily true, though, is it? because he was kind enough to Tomura. idk, I know my villain mom has done some horrible things, but you’ll be hard pressed to get me to think of him as all bad, even so. he was the one keeping Tomura from going FULLASS MURDER MODE!! for a long time

HEY WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF COP-OUT IS THIS

well then WHY DID YOU EVEN BRING THEM IN HERE! DID THEY NOT SEEM TRAUMATIZED ENOUGH TO YOU?? “well idk they seem pretty shaken up already, but just to make sure they grasp the full repugnant horror of the situation why don’t we make them visit him face to face.” OKAY THEN YOU SADISTS

son of a bitch and speaking of twisting the knife, Horikoshi keeps showing us these increasingly wrecked glimpses of Aizawa lowkey falling apart and I can’t

at this point the shadows under his eyes have their own shadows. and god dude, I know you’re rational, but it’s really hard to watch you just outright dismiss any and all possibilities of hope just like that :(

what the fuck Gran

so you really are the one in this scene who’s trying to lift everyone’s spirits now. well all right then, just what are you alluding to

OH SNAP

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD NOUMU BACKSTORY AT LAST! jesus christ, do Nao and Gran just know everything already, and they’ve just been keeping it all to themselves for the hell of it?? how long before they casually swing by U.A. and are all “oh and by the way, the traitor is...”

ANOTHER AIZAWA FACE BUT THIS ONE IS SOFT OH GOD!!

HEY WHAT’S UP I’M GONNA CRY. SOMEONE TURN ON SOME SAD MUSIC. AND I WON’T GO, AND I WON’T SLEEP, AND I CAN’T BREATHE, UNTIL YOU’RE RESTING HERE WITH ME

AND I WON’T LEAVE, I CAN’T HIDE, I CANNOT BEEEEEEEE

hey Nao. you know what really would have helped with getting him to talk. NOT KNOCKING HIM UNCONSCIOUS. ??? move over do you need someone else to do your job for you or

-- OH THEY’RE TALKING TO HIM NOW LMAO OKAY

“go ahead and do your thing guys. don’t be afraid to make it real gay”

this would be even more dramatic if Kurogiri actually had a face. but even so... OH I AM WHAT I AM. I’LL DO WHAT I WANT. BUT IIIIIIII CAN’T HIIIIDE

oh my fucking god Aizawa is all “but what about his family?” and Naomasa is literally “if you two are unsuccessful, then...” like straight up acknowledging that the three of them were so fucking gay in high school that their odds of getting through to Kumogiri are stronger than that of his OWN FUCKING FAMILY. wow

chin up my sexy man. you got this

OH SHIT AHHHHHHH

LDSKFHL EASY THERE CHAMP, THAT’S TOO MUCH SEX TO BE CONTAINED IN A SINGLE PANEL, PLEASE TRY AND DO ME A FAVOR AND FUCKING HOLD IT TOGETHER HERE FOR THE KIDS WHO ARE READING THIS!! [frantically googles ‘can a shounen manga get you pregnant’]

so Aizawa is all “I’ll be damned if I let his family hear this sickening story” and like, I’m sure he means that in a “they don’t deserve that pain” kind of noble and principled way, but if it were my child I sure would want to know regardless. and aren’t they going to find out either way?? either you do get through to him, in which case obviously you would want the family to know “HEY, GOOD NEWS!”, or you don’t manage it and Nao has to call them anyway as we just established. but you go ahead and get all fired up then, Shouta

now there’s a panel of him staring at Kumo and Kumo is just a big shapeless blob of black smoke just sitting there lol. don’t tell me he’s still unconscious?!

oh

thank you

anyway so Aizawa, did you know that while you were off being an underground hero, Kumo was studying at Oxford to get his medical degree while bartending on nights and weekends to make ends meet. the two of you have so much to catch up about

Mic’s thinking that even with Aizawa using his quirk, the fog isn’t dissipating, so it means Kumo’s body is now made up of fog. well but then what about the metal neck thingy! huh??

and Mic’s opening his big mouth to complain that Kurogiri is far too polite and classically educated to really be their old pal, but before he can finish, Kumo is interrupting to ask about his son!!

he’s. uh. I guess you could call it “well”? maybe a little too well [marge simpson noises]

well Mic is clearly back to being the comic relief here. but Aizawa is keenly spotting those mom instincts that have remained in Kumo to this day!

yes Aizawa the core of your friend is still in there deep down!

OH MY GOD

LMAOOOO. “EMO PUNK... WHERE HAVE I HEARD THAT BEFORE -- !!” [AUDIBLY GASPS AND LOOKS DIRECTLY AT AIZAWA]

oh my lord. like, I don’t think this is actually meant to be funny, but just the fact that he immediately associates “emo” with AIZAWA FUCKING SHOUTA so strongly that it makes him go (•̪ o •̪) all knowingly has me fucking deceased right now good grief

so Kumo says he doesn’t resent his mission at all. some people like looking after emo punks, Mic. you should know

AND NOW MY FEELINGS ARE BEING TOYED WITH AGAIN!! JUST STRAIGHT UP OUT IN THE OPEN!! THIS ISN’T FAIR

heh. don’t mind me I’m just looking for some sort of emotional support to cling to here for my breakdown that’s about to happen about 0.2 seconds after Aizawa starts crying, if he indeed starts to cry. which it looks like he might. oh god I’m not ready for this at all. my hatches are not even remotely battened; my shutters are just gonna go flying right the fuck off

by the way what the fuck is up with the chairs at Tartarus. why do they look like swiss cheese

hmm, Nao and Torino are all “no reaction”, but to me it looks like there clearly is a reaction, though? he can’t even look Aizawa in the eye all of a sudden. it’s clearly getting to him. Nao seriously, do you need someone else to do your job

oh Aizawa

(ETA: Kumo really first-named Aizawa two seconds after meeting him. this man knows how to adopt his introverts.)

okay but Present Mic in a summer uniform is the most punchable version yet, SORRY I JUST HAD TO SAY IT I’M SORRY MIC I LOVE YOU. it was just gonna come bursting up out of me if I didn’t

anyway so Aizawa is gaying it up just as promised

him using his quirk is definitely making the scene more intense, but I’m not really sure why he actually is using it, since we’ve established it’s not having any effect. unless he’s trying to possibly undo some of the brainwashing somehow??

(ETA: so it occurred to me that just because his quirk isn’t dissolving Kumo’s mist body doesn’t mean that it’s not having an effect on his warp abilities. this way they can interrogate him without fear of him trying to use it and them having to knock him out again.)

so Kumo’s continuing to try and play it off all smooth while Aizawa unleashes the full force of fifteen years of pent up grief and trauma!

starting to think Aizawa never did go to therapy after that whole thing. typical U.A. “so you saw your best friend die suddenly and violently right before your eyes and subsequently suppressed it and hallucinated his voice talking to you to avoid facing that reality, huh? eh, you’ll be fine”

oh no a close-up of Aizawa that doesn’t show his face completely. this kind of thing never ends well

BECAUSE HE DOESN’T WANT THEM TO END UP LIKE YOU [sobs forever]

wait are we really going to talk about this?? omg

wait what. so do you mean to tell me he expelled them but then continued to guide them afterwards so they would have long, happy and healthy careers but more importantly would be safe omfg I’m not fucking ready for this shit

we’re cutting to U.A.’s class 2-A! Aizawa’s former class? does that mean he literally expelled EVERY SINGLE ONE of his students last year omg

so then. does every single standout characteristic of the Aizawa we know and love stem from his tragic past and his relationship with this boy then, or what? meanwhile the feelings continue to torrentially lash against my house while I huddle in the basement

I can’t fucking believe we’re actually getting a legit reveal about the “Aizawa expels all his students” gag holy shit

re-enroll!? what?? and “expel” in quotation marks?!?

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS -- HE DID IT JUST TO SCARE THEM!? AND THEN WHAT, WERE THEY PICKED UP AFTERWARD BY THE OTHER HERO CLASSES INSTEAD? SO HE TEACHES THEM A POTENTIALLY LIFE-SAVING LESSON AND THEN GETS TO LAZE AROUND THE REST OF THE YEAR, LOL WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. THIS MAN IS A GENIUS

(ETA: and by this logic, Deku really ought to have been expelled half a dozen times by now. don’t ever try and tell me that this man doesn’t play favorites.)

so Aizawa is taking his goggles off and saying that he’s strict with his students because he wants them to live long, fulfilling lives

OH NO

SOMEHOW HORIKOSHI MADE KURO’S FACE LOOK SOFT?! I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW, IS THERE ANYTHING HE CAN’T DO

AHHHHH

OH NO HE DID IT AHHHH THE TEARS, FUCK. WELL MY HOUSE IS FUCKING DESTROYED, I’M CLIMBING UP TO THE ROOF TO AWAIT RESCUE

wow. anyways that really did get gay as fuck at the end, didn’t it. given the meaning that those goggles have to Aizawa, can this be taken as a form of marriage proposal? no? well I’m taking it that way anyway, so. congratulations you two. I’m off to go sob into a pillow now

#bnha 254 #aizawa shouta #shirakumo oboro #present mic #yamada hizashi #kurogiri #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #apparently hawks just missed out on the top ten #he was number 11 #MAYBE IF YOU HADN'T MURDERED A MAN #now go sit in your room and think about what you've done!! #endeavor was all the way down at 18 #shindou continues to be inexplicably popular at 15 #?? it's because he never wears a shirt isn't it #at least all might still beat him #and we won't talk about the guy at number 20 #or his THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE VOTES #and how he BEAT MIRIO AND ERI BOTH #where is the justice #anyways

[tarithenurse]

The good Villain - 4

Based on the prompt “You’re the villain and you know that you just want the ‘good guys’ to understand why”

Pairing:Loki x Fem!Reader (eventually) Content: Slight angst and sadness due to trauma, sexual innuendos. A/N: I’ll be updating more frequently because I’m a slut for feedback and I can’t wait to show what’s in line for you all :D Thanks for all the wonderful responses and reblogs! Seeing your names appear with each post makes me really happy.

Chapter 4

…   Reader   …

As days trickle by, you start to gather an idea of who your new prison guards are while they each take turn watching and “sneakily” questioning you. A few come close to something akin to subtlety (a female called Natasha, and a male with an interesting left arm), but they too have the disadvantage of interrogating someone who has nothing to hide.

“You admit to killing innocents…dozens of families on and off Earth?”

The tall blond male, most often referred to as Captain by the others, is leaning heavily against the glass. Fists balled tightly and chest heaving. He, at least, would never succeed in a game of subtlety. Too righteous. Now you have to listen to another of his rants about right and wrong and innocent lives taken – as if you had done anything but come in and clean up the damage done by pests.

“Oh, Captain, Captain,” you sing-song as you bend into another stretch, “haven’t you read any of the report?”

At this he pauses to look at you but finding your behind to be the most prominent point he neatly turns aside with a blush – a Terran response you have come to appreciate. “IF by report you mean the notes you’ve written? Th–“

“Of course that is what I mean because that is what they are.”

“They’re claims without proof!” Abashed by his own exclamation, he calms down a bit. “Besides…we haven’t translated it all yet.”

Now that makes more sense. “The Asgardians should be helpful there. Once the brothers have done their bit, I am sure you will be busy cross-referencing any statements with intergalactic records thus proving me…right.” Satisfied that you can not make the poor Terran change his facial colour further, you saunter up to the glass. “The longer the investigation lasts, the longer the threat will rage unchecked. Go-go.”

You watch him leave, tight-lipped and with broad shoulders shaking from pent-up frustration, before turning to the airlock where Captain had placed a meal upon arrival. As always, you ignore the bottle of water and turn your attention to the other items on the tray: cuts of bread with stuff in between (the wrapping claims it is a Sandwich), a fruit, and for the first time a puffed up bag. Even through the packaging, you can smell the salt, tempting you to devour those first. Would they poison me? Turning the little package in your hands, you cannot find any signs the wrapping has been compromised.

“I figured you would like those,” Loki’s voice informs you endearingly, “as an alternative to your own stash.”

You shoot him a quick glance where he stands by the comfortable looking chair, but his face in unreadable. “And I assume you want something in return?”

“Consider it a gift,” he smirks, “out of the kindness of my heart.”

Rather than eat in front of the male, you lazily reinvestigate the corners of your cage for the millionth time, poignantly filling up the silence with nothing. Two can play at that game, experience tells. Of these people, these Avengers, quite a few have mastered the concept of waiting for an opponent to talk to end the awkwardness instead of wasting time asking the wrong questions. You first, you will Loki silently.

“If you could break out, you would already have done so,” he yawns, giving in to a long stretch that shows off an unoffendable physique, “not only that…why let yourself be taken in in the first place?”

“Little me? Against all of you? Why waste the energy like that if I can get your help instead?”

The last part is neither meant nor received as a question.

A dark gleam dances in his pretty eyes as he gingerly steps up to the glass. “You’d hoped for the same when your own people came for the arrest.” Long fingers draw unseen figures on the barrier, but it feels like it could have been along your spine judging by the shivers racing along your skin. “No fight then either…why should we believe you now if they didn’t?”

Sneaky bastard. It is clear that at least one of your captors has gotten further studying and verifying you report than the others…unless Captain is a much better liar than you initially have taken him for. Nope, this is the one to play.

“I suppose…I thought you were smarter…” It is with glee you see Loki’s mouth twitch. “Less…blind to the facts.”

 …   Loki   …

“Their dried out minds still cannot see the patterns!” he snaps a second too soon.

Oh, she’s good. It is difficult to gain the upper hand in a conversation with the Betan, and as much as it riles him up it also pleases Loki immensely. With perfectly groomed innocence, she has baited and caught him, causing him to reveal his own weakness in the process of showing off just how intelligent he is.

“Ohh, not only are you looking under every rock…” Her voice is sweetened sin. “You already see the shape of the monster hiding there…and it is not me.” The most delightful giggle escapes the lips. “Tell me, what do you know?”

No peace is left when he steps up as close as possible, their palms only separated by the glass that freezes over in gasps to obscure [Y/N]’s face from his sight. Get a grip. Schooling himself, it takes a moment longer than he would like to admit to calm down. Frustration? Anger? It hardly matters as long as it no longer controls him except…those ever-black eyes hold him so well.

“The missing vessels from the colony…the research station. You tracked them down.” For once she actually seems impressed, although the Asgardian notices something else too which he sets his mind to uncover later. “You followed in their wake as far as you could, am I wrong?” Not giving time to respond, Loki continues with a dismissal wave of the hand. “Half of the notes are crude calculations to establish the most likely course to a next target-planet while some of the rest are a tally and I dare say it’s of the monsters you hunt! The ones that killed your crew!”

He has been too swept up relaying the knowledge privy only to him that he only now notices [Y/N] has slid to the ground, knees tugged to the chest and at least one arm slung bracingly around to hold herself in. To prevent her from falling apart. Short clipped nails are digging through messy locks the colour of Asgard’s waters on a bright day. Listening carefully, Loki hears the first broken sob.

“It…it’s true then.”

A needless comment but what else can he say? That he will help her set it right? Make the Avengers understand and aid as well? Nothing can lessen the pain, share the burden that has driven her wildly while holding her down by its weight.

“What have you done?!” Her sobs are broken by terror, and for a moment Loki actually fears he may have caused her some sort of harm. “I am leaking!”

#The good Villain #mcu Fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #loki odinson #loki fanfic #Loki fanfiction #Loki angst #loki trauma #alien reader #reader #reader insert #Loki Avenger #Avengers #from enemies to friends to lovers #from enemies to allies #captain america #Steve Rogers #natasha romanoff #Natalia Romanova #Black Widow #Loki #Thor #Asgard #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writing prompt

[mikasa856]

FINAL MOMENTS ( words 10907, this is my first time, whoever is reading this, I hope you like it)

Almost six months passed since Eren acquired the justice and righteousness for the subjects of Ymir and attained world peace. He left a strong message through his staged rumbling which indeed etched the truth about Eldia and their history long suffering.

Historia and Eren's daughter was five months old, a beautiful baby, she was the apple of the eye. Everyone in capital Mitras rejoiced as they welcomed their princess. Eren and Historia were the proudest parents. Sparkles in everyone's eyes but Eren didn't look so amused. Needless to say he feels blessed to have baby Ymir in his life. That was all he wanted, to end his fate and free Ymir of her captivity.

Eren shared the news of being a father six months back to his friends, Armin, Mikasa, Connie and Jean. It took a while for them to comprehend the whole event. In a while, Eren explained everything to them which of course made things clear but there was a slight hint of blandness in his voice, as if he was doing it more out of duty than out of excitement. Everyone was flabbergasted but eventually accepted with exchanging stares with each other.

Mikasa, who appeared motionless for a while, finally sat up and said in an ever so calm voice , " my sole purpose in life was always to honor your words which gave me strength and the will to live. I promised myself to return the favour by protecting you with my life.. I'm really happy that I could finally know that you're happy", she smiled slightly. Eren didn't look at Mikasa , just said, hmm, in his breath .

It took a good deal of time for Mikasa to process the entire story and she could remember herself blandly saying what she told without being able to connect herself with it. She meant all of that but she was hollow inside. It slowly started to dawn upon her. She could finally realise that she was fighting against her brain and heart in a way that she had never fought before. She tried to clench her pillow against her and convince herself to not break down because she can't afford that. She had never really been open to anyone. Yet she couldn't hold those tears back. They came out in large drops which pained her eyes . Again she found herself crying for Eren. It was always Eren. She's not a war machine like everyone considers Ackermans to be. She was a human with emotions. She was unconditionally in love with Eren. He saved her in every way a dying girl could be saved. She loved her from that very day. Yet because she loved her, she needs to let him go. The pain was unbearable. It was unfathomable. She felt shocks of despair running through her spine. She felt hot. She ran to the washroom to splash some water on her face. She looked at the mirror to find her rugged face staring back at her. All her life she was aware of only one purpose, one truth, to save Eren. Eren's happiness was her happiness. " Then why are you sad?", she asked herself and started sobbing again. She pressed the towel against her face to hide her from herself. Sitting in the corner of the bathroom, she stared blankly at the ceiling, taking deep breaths she decided that she cannot inflict any more pain on herself. For Eren's sake, she needed to move on or to show, otherwise knowing Eren, he might feel indebted to her.

About a couple of months after that, when baby Ymir was two months old, Eren and Historia were officially married. The celebration was at its grandest. Amongst the guests were notable people from all over the world who came to congratulate the newly weds. The wedding however was not just for its name, it was also a platform to honour Eren as a patriot and a freedom fighter who risked his life and morality to attain peace and justice, a step no ordinary human could muster up the courage to do so. Indeed the subjects of Ymir were happy and the country is enjoying the fruits of Eren's hardship. " Congratulations Mr. Yeager" was all Eren could hear and see the big smile of all the honoured guests but his mind seem to be elsewhere. He looked oddly distracted at his own wedding. His gaze turned towards baby Ymir and he smiled at her softly. He asked himself if his friends were indeed happy and everytime he thought that, his mind roamed elsewhere and directed him to thinking of one person . He frowned his forehead and immediately shook that thought off then looked in front of him only to see his fate playing with his emotions. It was Mikasa. She smiled at him and congratulated him. They exchanged handshakes and a small hug. It was awkward for two people who knew, understood, criticised and appreciated each other to suddenly turn formal and look at each other with fake smiles on their face. Eren's lips were shaking but Mikasa chose to ignore that with a tight knot forming in her belly. Connie and Jean greeted him too. Later that night everyone enjoyed a beautiful dinner and it all ended in the most stunning way it could have ended.

Around that time, Mikasa exchanged words with Kiyomi about her interests in coming to live with the Azumabitos. Kiyomi was never more happier and was excited about her decision. She almost immediately started to make arrangements. Mikasa thought this was a good start to her new chapter but felt a little selfish to use her family as an excuse to feel better about herself. But she soon realised it goes both ways. She was going to spend time with them. Her only family was the Azumabitos now. She thought about how she could meet her mother's relatives and maybe her cousins. This thought made her smile ever so slightly. She was thinking about these then smirked thinking how strange it was because Eren was her only family. It was always for Eren. She was alive and kept herself going only for Eren. She dedicated herself to Eren. To her it was strange thinking of her blood family over Eren. This was the first time she's taking a decision but without Eren in it.

She took her time to bring herself to the fact that she needs to tell this to Armin atleast. She knew he wasn't going to listen to her and would try to convince her otherwise but she had a backup plan. She taught herself how to not listen to Armin and make more excuses. But it wasn't all that hard because it seems Armin did understand her in the first place. He said nothing but nodded. Armin understood of course. Jean was aghast by the news and Mikasa understood why. But she wasn't altruistic, she was a simple girl who wanted to get her self together because she was crashing down. She found herself selfish to not consider Jean's feelings towards her but she couldn't afford to make herself shoulder that burden either. It was already too much for her. I'm sorry, she told Jean softly. Jean only looked down. He knew this was inevitable and cussed Eren for that but not genuinely. The four scouts had too much to bear from the moment they joined the 104th cadets. This is just another one and hopefully the last one.

It's now six months and in the present, Mikasa sat in her room. Her luggage was packed. As she looked outside her mind started flooding with the beautiful memories she had of Paradis. Her time with her friends, Sasha who died in battle, Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt. They were all caught between morality and indoctrination. Human minds being played with. Marley played it bad, real bad. As she tried to keep those flashbacks subtle, she soon realised she was again thinking of Eren. His gorgeous emerald green eyes. The lashes were beautiful. His hot headed nature. His angst . His will power that gave her strength. She was leaving all of that behind. She was leaving her world behind. Her real home, her Paradis. It wasn't easy at all. But she had to. For Eren, for Historia and for their beautiful daughter.

Just when she started to feel a little better, she wiped her tears and suddenly there was a knock at the door. Her ill fate awaited her. "Mikasa ! Mikasa! " , it was Armin. She hurriedly opened the door to find a gasping Armin . He entered and looked at Mikasa, "Eren wants to meet you! Right now !". Her world came crashing down once again. Her walls which she tried to keep stable. Her consolations. Her forged sense of happiness, everything suddenly seem to disappear and pain crawled along her nerves . She couldn't hold the tightness in her stomach and sat down. She knew the news would reach Eren but now? Why now? Why couldn't it reach him after she left? Why? She asked herself and stared at the wooden floor. It was always Armin, he always came at the wrong time. Even back then when Eren was supposedly dead...

Her hands started to sweat. It's not something she can afford now. She cannot. Eren is a husband now and most importantly, a father. "How can I meet him now ? Armin? I have to leave in a few hours" , she told Armin.

"I don't know Mikasa, he's waiting for you at Pit Riddles, he said he wants to meet you !" Armin said now slightly calm.

For a slight moment, Mikasa felt her sanity, profanity and morality leave her soul. It was Eren after all. He's waiting to see her. Of course she can't not go. At the moment she was fighting her own war of whether she should or she shouldn't.

She went down the streets of Stohess and entered Pit Riddles. She found Eren sitting with his arms crossed, looking down at the table. A chilled glass of water was what he had in front of him. She quietly walked towards the table trying her best to stay calm, took a chair and sat across Eren. Eren looked up at her, his eyes emitted the softest gaze ever. She immediately looked down. His lips were shut. Mikasa's hands were on her lap and she was clenching her handkerchief to release the pressure of her turmoil.

"I heard you're leaving? ", Eren asked softly, his voice cracked.

"Yes", was all she could mumble.

Eren could feel his nose getting hot along with his full face. The ears started to pain.

Mikasa bit her lower lip and continued looking down. She couldn't risk looking at Eren's face.

" ...and you didn't feel the need to tell me...?"

She couldn't answer that. What could she say? This wasn't a strategy. It was matters of heart.

"... I'm sorry" , she said softly a little embarrassed.

All Eren could hear was Mikasa's deep breaths and "yes" resonating in the air. Suddenly everything was mute. The humming of the other customers conversation , the tingling of glasses, the footsteps outside and the honking of modern vehicles. They all seemed to disappear. The only sound was Mikasa's heartbeat, her deep breaths and his own heart thumping against his chest wall. His hands started to shake slightly. His face flushed. He knew Mikasa could no longer be his knight . He knew Mikasa wasn't going to nag him to do this and that, to eat and to occassionally smack him out of his mindless murmurs. Mikasa was everything to him. He loves her deeply. He knew her by heart. The girl he saved. When he saw her dead parents, he was shocked but what was that instinct of saving her? Why? " I had to save her immediately ! " , Eren told Greisha upon being asked. A nine year old Eren, didn't think once before saving her by killing her parents's murderers who tried to sell her. He was awestruck by her face when he saw her in light. He wrapped that scarf around her to keep her warm and blushed slightly. He needed to save her. He fished for her small hand from the layers of clothing and brought her home. And today after eleven years, he has to let those hands go. The pain was deep rooted.

The chilled glass now precipitated and formed a rim of water at the base, Mikasa took a piece of tissue paper and wiped that off the table as an excuse to distract herself from the tension. Eren took a sachet of granulated sugar, tore it and spread that sugar in that spot where she wiped, " clean that too...", He said. Mikasa looked at him in both surprised as well as concerned. Eren looked the other way. His eyes looked slightly watered. His face was flushed.

He remembered the times when they went to fetch firewood. Mikasa promised Eren to not tell anyone he cried in his sleep. Those soft but cold hands. He could feel his feet turning cold , his heart now racing. It was hard for him to keep up.

" Eren", her voice broke , " I have to get going now, I need to take my luggage and then travel for an hour to reach the ferry" , she added.

For the past couple of hours, they hardly spoke.

Eren turned his gaze towards her , she can't be real he thought. To him it was still a nightmare that he wanted to wake up from.

As Mikasa got up from the chair and took her bag, Eren hurried and instinctively hugged her in the tightest way possible. Then he kissed her passionately. Mikasa was awestruck. She couldn't allow that. She felt guilty. Eren was a committed husband and a father now. "Eren please...", She said softly after breaking the kiss, " please let me go".

"Never! ", Eren said, he was crying now.

Eren please, she said again, please let go.

After a while she finally freed herself from his wrap but Eren's fingers were entangled with hers. Their eyes were drenched in tears. "I'm sorry...", she muttered and left hurriedly . "Mikasa..." , Eren said softly reaching out to her but it's late already.

Eren sat there for a long time. Everything comes with a price. Was he still indebted?

At the cost of letting Mikasa go?

"If you want to save Armin and Mikasa" then what is this?

He sat there staring at the sugar on the table, tears rolled down his cheeks while the sky cried to resonate with his sadness.

Duty over emotions....the pain .

#attack on titan #eremika #eremika-smut #shingekinokyojin #snk #anime #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #eren yeager