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Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.  

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.  

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.    

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?  

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

Ko-Fi

If you write for them, could I ask for those summer headcanons for Bennett, Chongyun, Razor and Xingqiu? If not its, fine! You can ignore this.

☀️Hanging at the beach together☀️

With: Bennett, Chongyun, Razor and Xingqiu

—————————

Bennett:

Benny’s bad luck may or may not kick in! Poor guy

The second his foot touches the sand, the skies open and it starts pouring rain

You guys gotta hurry to set up your tent and umbrella in the rain!! He feels terrible

“Aw man! I’m sorry buddy, this is all my fault!! :(”

You guys can still have fun in the rain though!! Playing in the water is so fun when it’s raining! And eventually, the rain will stop :) you’re Benny’s good luck charm!

Once the sun is out though, it’s time for activities! Two person volleyball, chasing seagulls, fishing, tanning! Though Benny doesn’t tan due to his luck, he just burns lmao

There won’t be a dull moment here at the beach when you have Bennett around! He’s just so fun to hang out with! Even if it does rain the whole time, you won’t be bored at all! He’s so good at making sucky situations fun!!

He’ll wanna go to the beach again with you for sure! Maybe it can become a weekend tradition for you guys! After a week of commissions and errands for the guild, going to the beach to hang out is a fun reward!

Razor:

Razor LOVES swimming! He’s a total water rat, once he gets in the lake of the sea he isn’t getting out for awhile

When you guys first approach the beach, he’ll take off ahead of you and launch himself into the water lmao and if you’re taking too long to put your stuff down he’ll come over and poke at you “Friend…Get in water” “I will, I just gotta set everything up real quick!” “Don’t need that. Water is nice. Come” well you can’t exactly argue with that lmao

He enjoys laying out in the sun too but he doesn’t understand the concept of tanning. When you point out his funny lookin tan lines he’ll look at you like you sprouted another arm “Razor! Look at your arms! Your tan is so uneven!!” “Don’t have tan” “Yeah you do, look!” “….Do not care” pffttt

Razor will be covered in sand. It is inevitable. It’ll be in his hair, on his face, all over his arms. It’s like he rolled in the stuff cause he did please help him get it off!!

If you mention being hungry, it doesn’t even matter if you brought snacks cause Razor is already diving back in the water to catch fish for you guys! You gotta convince him to cook it too cause otherwise he’ll eat it raw :0

Once it’s time to go, he’ll awkwardly come over and put a hand on your arm “Thank you for being…my friend” “Aw! Razor! You don’t have to thank me! We can come to the beach again sometime, okay?” “Okay. Sounds good”

Chongyun:

Help

He can’t handle the heat! He only came to the beach to make you happy and to hang out but it’s way too hot. He’s flushed bright red and he’s activating his vision to rub it on his burning face

He’ll sit under the umbrella the whole time so instead of taking him to the beach during the day, go at sundown!

This way, the sun isn’t beating down on yall the whole time you’re outside! You can set up a bonfire for some light and you guys can swim to your hearts content! Once it’s totally dark, you can tell ghost stories by the fire!

Don’t be too dramatic cause he WILL believe your ghost stories. In fact, he’ll tell you stories that Xingqiu told him…And he’ll be like “Isn’t that crazy? I can’t believe there’s blue haired demon in Qingce village!”…Chongyun sweetie… Xingqiu was just making fun of you lmao

Xingqiu:

Xingqiu likes the beach but he wont be running around much. He’ll go in the water but he’ll spend most of his time sitting and reading under the umbrella

Unless…If you guys are at a secluded beach, he’ll be okay with sparring with you! It’ll be fun! The resistance in the sand makes for a different kind of fight! And you guys can fashion swords out of driftwood just for fun!

He will totally cheat though, he’ll channel the ocean water, make a huge wave and slam it down onto you! You’ll be totally drenched and he’ll be laughing his ass off!

You gotta shove him in the water too just to get him back!!

Xingqiu is a total prankster, the beach is a great place to formulate new prank plans. He’ll put a crab in your towel or place a cracker on your shoulder so seagulls will come try to get it, he’s just trying to be funny!!

He’ll totally help you build an epic sandcastle too, he’ll take it very seriously!! Only the best sand castle for his bestie <3

If you invite him to the beach…be ready for a chaotic afternoon!!

were you ever going to tell me?

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER THREE OF TEN (?)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 3.5k

a/n: god damn.... it’s been a while. happy fuckin’ new year! hope you enjoy one of the most angst ridden chapters ruby and i have ever written. also pretty sure there’s going to be ten chapters! obvi i will inform you if that changes! hope you all have been staying safe and healthy! mwah!

masterlist

You and Steve haven’t spoken since Friday night when it slipped from your lips how you’ve felt - how you’ve felt about him for a year.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that it’s over. You should’ve known better than to keep something like that from him, that’s overwhelming information for anyone to receive. Even though the words “we’re done” haven’t been said, you’re positive that they don’t need to be.

And Steve - god, he hasn’t known what to think about it all. Unconsciously, he’s spent the last two days reliving everything, and of course you had feelings for him. You threw away so much for him and he rarely returned the favor. He almost hates how devoted you were - no, he doesn’t mean that.

He can’t mean that.

Steve’s wanted to reach out every moment that you two have been apart. He doesn’t blame you for the fact that you haven’t, he can’t imagine what’s going on inside your head; he assumes you’re pissed beyond belief.

The school day’s been tough. Knowing that Steve’s here and inside these walls, it makes you flare up with embarrassment and shame. You can’t wait to get out of here.

Jonathan’s voice startles you a bit when he approaches your locker, just passing by on his way out to say goodbye. Concern blooms from within him at the way you hold yourself, how your eyes can’t seem to focus on anything in particular as you turn the dial.

He clears his throat as he tries to come with something to discuss, “So, uh - do anything else fun over the weekend? Will told me you watched something spooky. Hopefully Dustin wasn’t too annoying this time.”

Jonathan laughs, crossing his arms over his chest, “Like remember that time we took them to see Cujo? I felt so bad for the other people in the theater.”

“I, um-“ You stutter over your words as you swing the door open, mind flashing back to events on Friday, “No, I didn’t do anything else this weekend. It was pretty shitty, actually.”

“Bummer,” Jonathan leans against the column as you unzip your backpack and begin to unload your belongings. His brow furrows further once he notices something else is off, until he finally realizes what. 

“Steve’s runnin’ late today,” Jonathan checks his watch, “You two are typically joined at the hip right about now.” 

And by the way your jaw clenches and your actions freeze slightly, Jonathan can tell he unwillingly struck a nerve.

Your throat starts to close up as you think about him again, feeling the familiar burning sensation behind your eyes, “I haven’t, uh, I haven’t seen him. I don’t know where he is.”

Jonathan watches you intently. He hasn’t seen you like this in a while - not since the day after Halloween. The puzzle starts to put itself together.

He leans in a touch closer; his whispers are covered by the rustling sound of you putting on your windbreaker, “Did something happen? Are you two… you know, good?”

You’re an inch away from whisking Jonathan somewhere else to tell him everything. Over the past few months - but especially over the last couple days - you’ve been tempted to let the secret spill. Keeping all your feelings in, both the good and the bad, doesn’t feel like such a good idea anymore. 

You figured that Nancy would be the person you’d tell. While it’d probably be awkward at first, she is the one who told you to go for it, regardless of the past. 

But Jonathan’s right here. And someone else has to know. 

“You can’t tell anyone else,” You say, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. Your tone matches his, quiet and hushed underneath the obnoxiously loud commotion of the hallway. 

Jonathan’s face twists; both curiosity and concern is laced throughout his expression, “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

The experiences you’ve shared will bond you forever. You’d trust Jonathan with your life - you figure he can handle this piece of information too. 

A deep sigh passes from your lips. You don’t know why you’re so scared to admit this.

“Steve and I, we - we’re, uh…” Your hand moves absently in the air as you try to find the words. But when you trail off in search of them, your silence says enough. Jonathan’s brow raises in realization - it all makes so much sense. 

And Jonathan goes to answer, mouth opening but he doesn’t get to respond. Instead, his attention is brought to your side. He kicks your shoe to grab your gaze, which moves quickly between Jonathan’s eyes, and where they landed. 

You avert your focus from Steve as soon as you see that it’s him. The quick glance is enough to transport you to that night, and the emotions you felt watching him leave. 

“Hey,” Steve speaks softly as he comes up beside you, sending a nod and light wave to Jonathan before he leans in a touch closer, “Can we talk?”

Jonathan takes that as his cue to leave - he wishes you both a good-bye. As your friend disappears into the crowd, you bite down onto the inside of your lip. 

“Yeah,” Your voice trembles, afraid because this is it. You can’t bring your gaze to meet Steve’s again, “Yeah sure.”

“Let’s uh-” Steve mutters, clearing his throat as you pull the collar of your coat away from your neck. His eyes fly around the hallway, catching sight of the other students that mill around in the space. Not here. 

Steve exhales before he speaks, “What do you say we go for a drive?”

—

Every few seconds, Steve’s eyes drift between the empty road and you; your leg bounces wildly in the silence. He’s trying to figure out how to compile his thoughts - he doesn’t even know where to begin.

The longer you both sit without speaking, the more anxious you become. You wish you had an inkling of what he plans to say. You wish you could prepare. 

Steve shifts in his seat, voice faltering a bit, “Um, are you... hungry? Wanna grab something?”

God, you hate how considerate he can be. 

You lean your head against the hand you propped on the armrest. You haven’t taken your eyes away from the landscape beyond the window since buckling in. It takes every fabric of your being to try and forget that Steve’s beside you; it’s the only way you can attempt to calm yourself down. 

It doesn’t help that every time you’re in Steve’s car, you’re surrounded by memories. 

Like when you spent ten minutes explaining the chemistry assignment, only for him to grab your notes and toss them into the front seat. 

You protested, about ready to smack him when his fingers danced over your jaw, pulling you closer. He kissed you for a moment before muttering against your lips, “I think I’d rather study our chemistry instead.”

You couldn’t take him seriously after that comment; you laughed until your stomach hurt. Steve couldn’t even be offended, the sound of your giggles only brought a smile to his face. 

“I don’t what you think is so funny,” He quipped, smirking as he looked back at you, “That was one of my best ones!”

You scoffed, “You say a lot of cheesy shit, Harrington. But that? That was the worst one out of them all.” 

Steve didn’t get a chance to reply, because you took his face in between your palms and kissed him. Your love for him is more powerful than all the horrible jokes and puns he could come up with. In fact, they only made you love him more. 

How different that moment was in comparison to the one you’re in now. You figure that it’ll take everything you have to try and get over him. 

“I’m not hungry,” You say curtly, with a tone much harsher than you intended. You immediately regret it. 

“I’m sorry, I just…” The sentence falls short, you’re not sure where it was going. You felt the need to apologize for something. This is your fault, after all.

Steve hears you curse under your breath as you ponder how to continue. Another moment passes.

You sigh before leaning back against the seat, the anger at yourself only grows with each passing second, “God, I fucked up-”

“You’re not the one who fucked up,” Steve interrupts suddenly. He runs his fingers through his hair aggressively, irritated by his own actions from the other night. He never should have left.

“Sometimes I just…” Steve pauses as he stops the car at a red light, “I can’t believe how selfless you are. And I just don’t know how to handle it most of the time.”

“I can’t imagine putting my own feelings aside for a whole year, just for another person’s happiness. I’m not sure if that’s selfish or not.”

Steve takes a deep breath, relishing in the admittance of his guilt. He figures that’s something he should do more often - he carries so much of it with him.

Barb. Nancy. The endless list of others who were touched by his lack of empathy. 

And now you. It might be too late to make it up to them, but he can certainly try to make it up to you. Hopefully, you can forgive him in time. 

“It was a second. A second, and then I turned and realized how it seemed, that I didn’t want you anymore but I do. God, I do.”

You start tearing up a bit because his words hit you harder than you were expecting, “You turned back?”

Steve looks to you briefly before he nods, “Right as you locked the door, yeah.”

He doesn’t give you time to reply; he continues speaking as the light turns green, “I’m just so lucky to have you. And I’m sorry. I never should have left that day.” 

In that moment, the relief floods your face. Once again, you expected the worst - you’ll have to learn to stop doing that. Especially with Steve. 

But Steve grows more concerned over what your expression implies. The anxiety you displayed wasn’t for no reason, he figures. 

“You weren’t worried about anything besides that, right? You didn’t think I was gonna… break up with you, were you?”

His voice is so weak with emotion because all you’ve shown him has been devotion and love and more affection than he could’ve dreamed of; this is how he pays it back? Your silence is answer enough. 

A tear finally rolls down your cheek, but you can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders at these revelations. The only sound is that of the rain that’s begun to hit the windshield. It’s strangely soothing after the previous conversation. 

Steve reaches over the center console to hold your hand in his; you laugh and sniffle a bit, wiping your eyes as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “We’re not very good at this, are we?” 

Steve's looking a little downtrodden - as you’re sure you are too - but his eyes are shining and he’s grinning, so it can’t be that bad. 

“No,” He chuckles too, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand tenderly, “But we’ll learn.”

—

The following weeks are fairly uneventful in regards to your relationship. Since that day, you’ve been more transparent with each other. While you were afraid the truth would only cause pain, it’s actually brought you peace. 

It hasn’t gotten any easier to face your brother, unfortunately. Every time you mention that Steve’s picking you up, Dustin’s eyes grow wide. 

“Can I come?” He begs. You always sigh - you both know that the answer is yes. Neither you nor Steve can ever seem to say no to Dustin. Especially now that a few of the kids have begun to couple up, your brother is lonelier than ever. 

While Steve might love the kid, that doesn’t mean he’s thrilled to see Dustin by your side every time. The glares that Steve sends your brother when he isn’t looking puts you in stitches. 

Steve can handle your brother crashing your dates - he figured that might happen. He wasn’t prepared to attempt to avoid all of them.

You were sure that you would finally be able to see this movie together with Dustin at Will’s with the others for the weekend. You leaned into Steve’s side, with his arm over your shoulder, just subtle enough to go unnoticed in the darkness of the theater.

It’s some cheesy film - neither of you knows or even cares what the title is because you get to be that couple at the movies, when out of nowhere-

“Hey guys! You didn’t tell me you were coming, we’ve missed like a quarter of the movie!”

You and Steve scramble to part; Steve goes beet red, hissing under his breath, “I thought you said he wasn’t coming!”

“He wasn’t! I don’t know how he even found out!”

Dustin plops himself in the seat next to yours, popcorn spilling onto the ground, “What did I miss?”

Steve coughs and it brings Dustin’s attention to the blush on his face, “Were… were you guys gettin’ cozy?”

“No!” You both exclaim; several people shush you in the audience. 

Dustin’s not sure he believes you. He offers you his box of Milk Duds, “Want some?”

His offer only fuels your annoyance with him further, “No, I don’t want any! What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were at Will’s!” 

Dustin gestures next to him as he shrugs, dumping the box of chocolates into his tub of popcorn, “Yeah, but we got bored. Mike mentioned the idea, and Max wanted to see this anyways!”

Steve groans when he sees the pack of them settling into the seats next to your brother, each of them with snacks in each hand. Mike tilts his drink towards your boyfriend, his smirk growing with every second. Steve decides telling Mike your Friday night plans is no longer a good idea.

With all of that aside, there is one thing that has been bothering Steve. He decides to inquire about it one night.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Steve questions; his voice breaks the silence. In the darkness, his eyes are trained on the pale color of the ceiling, absently focused on nothing. He doesn’t understand why it’s been on his mind, because it’s not important anymore. You’re together now, that’s all that matters. Right?

But it’s been keeping him awake - the curiosity. He’s not used to that.

“Hm?” Exhausted, that’s all you can muster as a response. You’re tucked against his side - every time he breathes, you rise with the motion. You like the reminder that Steve’s really here, lying with you in the late night’s twilight.

“How you felt. About me.”

Oh.

He doesn’t need to elaborate further because you know how his mind works. It’s likely that he’s been obsessively picking apart your words, trying to find any glimmer of hope; they were devastating to him.

Your chest heaves before answering, almost afraid of giving him the reason. Softening your tone, you finally answer him, “No, no I wasn’t.” 

Steve has a thousand thoughts swirling through his head now; it doesn’t make any sense that you’d want to keep yourself from a chance at happiness. He has so many things he wants to tell you, wants to ask you - but he only comes up with one.

“Why?”

It’s quiet, quieter than anything spoken so far. It seems silly, but his question contains so much sadness because he doesn’t understand it. It’s only three letters, but each one makes your body flood with emotion. And even though it’s right there, in the forefront of your mind, you can’t bring yourself to tell him.

“Maybe, if you did...” Steve continues when you don’t, carefully trying to navigate the topic, “We could’ve been happy. Not-not that I’m sayin’ we aren’t now, of course.”

His nerves calm a bit when a light laugh bubbles from you, grinning a bit as you tighten your hold on him - he returns it quickly. 

It’s a short moment of joy, because Steve’s brow furrows as his mind keeps running, “But maybe it could’ve been sooner. We could’ve been together.”

Your cheeks flush at this idea he proposes; that maybe he would’ve wanted to be with you earlier if you had just said something. But you’re still not so sure.

“Steve,” You sigh as you pull away from him, sitting up so you can meet his gaze, “You don’t know that. Maybe it had to happen this way.”

He doesn’t like that. Steve wants to believe that out there somewhere, there’s a chance he could’ve been there for you sooner. That there’s a chance you two would’ve been able to avoid all the heartache, the uncertainty, and the anger that you were left with instead.

“Besides,” You shift to cross your legs, further tangling them in the sheets as you ponder, “Do you really think you would’ve left Nancy for me?” 

And then Steve props himself up to mirror you, watching how your eyes catch the glow from the streetlight just beyond your window. He’s not sure what his answer would have been, if he really thinks about it.

“You still could’ve said something. I mean, I don’t know what I would’ve done but, I wouldn’t have just…gotten rid of you.”

Steve adjusts to move closer, desperately trying to think of anything he could say to make the situation better. Although he’s not sure he’d ever be able to, not after what he did. Unknowingly, as you’ve pointed out countless times, it doesn’t make his heart ache any less.

“You loved her,” You mutter, voice soft; your gaze cast down towards your hands, “And I didn’t think you’d ever see me differently. If all I was going to be was your friend, then that was better than never having you at all. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was something.”

It’s Steve’s turn not to say anything, because you’re not wrong. It’s true that he didn’t start developing feelings for you until after Nancy had left, and that you were only a friend in his eyes before then. And even though he knows that’s the truth, it still hurts to hear it come from you. It hurts to hear that you never believed you had an opportunity.

“I made the choice not to tell you, Steve,” You finally turn to face him and his soft brown eyes are patiently awaiting your final answer, “I didn’t want it to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He pauses after scoffing slightly, “What are you talking about?” 

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to choose. And we know now that she didn’t love you, but I-” The sentence stops before you can end it, as if it was pulled right from your mouth, like every other time you’ve tried to.

But something’s different now. Your heart isn’t pounding, cheeks aren’t scarlet with embarrassment; part of you wonders if it’s because you think he already knows. 

And with another breath, another sigh, you finally finish it.

“But I do.”

You chuckle as you become overwhelmed with your own emotions. You can’t help the smile that begins to creep up over your lips, realizing you’re finally comfortable enough to tell him how you feel. 

“I’m so in love with you. And I’d never want to do anything to hurt you. Ever. I always thought that if I told you, it’d do more harm than good so… I chose not to do anything about it. You were happy and god... the last thing I have ever wanted to do was take that away from you. So I figured I would just let it tear me apart until I didn’t feel it anymore.”

You feel so much lighter - every card you’ve ever kept from him is now on the table. There’s nothing hidden anymore. 

“You don’t, um-“ You mutter, hands placed gingerly into your lap. Your head shakes - almost in disbelief - you can’t believe what you just admitted to him, “You don’t have to say anything.” 

Right away, Steve opens his mouth to respond, but you stop him before he can utter a single word. He’s not even sure what he was going to say, if he’s honest with himself. But you deserve to hear something after that admission, he thinks - it’s the very least he could do.  

You know how Nancy’s lie affected him; he’s not required to admit anything that he’s not ready to, “No, it’s fine, Steve. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

How very odd for Steve, to be the one receiving this confession, the admittance of your feelings, your love and knowing that you expect nothing in return. He’s used to being on the other side of it truthfully, pouring out his heart and being left on a line - Nancy's hesitation louder than any words.

Steve doesn’t want to - he knows for sure that you wouldn’t want him to - but he feels guilty. But this love is so different from Nancy’s and he has to learn it all again, until it’s comfortable against the thrum in his heart. You’ve had plenty of time to learn to love him and he? Well, he’s on his way.

— taglist: @stevebabey / @mrsukai / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want to be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

Typetober Day 8: encounters and partings

In light of a Memos update coming veeeerrrryyyyy sooooooon (to the reader who asked for an update because today was their birthday, i’m sorry i wasn’t able to make it :( but i promise i’ll make it up to you! hope you had an amazing one <3)

A flurry of bodies rushed past her legs, nearly toppling her over. Hoku wobbled, grabbing the wooden pillar of the shop beside her before she could fall flat on her face. She scowled, whirling around with one hand curled into a fist. “Hey! Stupid brats, watch where you’re going! You could get someone killed!”

“Sorry, lady!” one of the boys hollered, breaking out into a chorus of laughter as they ran. The smallest one tripped, forcing the other two to brake on their heels. They quickly rushed back, hauling him up by his arms and running away with him in tow.

Hoku stopped at the sight, fist loosening in the air. She felt a little quiet all of a sudden, staring at their backs as the three boys laughed, heads tossed high and smiles bright until they disappeared entirely from sight.

“Hoku, you’re too slow!”

“Put more effort into it!”

“We’re gonna leave you behind!”

“My star, is something wrong?”

Hoku’s fingers uncurled from her fist. She dropped her hand back down to her side, staring after the empty space between the crowd. 

No. She thought back, reaching behind her to touch Mau’s hilt before she shook her head, turning toward the shop and stepping inside. “It’s nothing.”

Hoku fixed the tie under her chin. Her hood stayed well in place, hiding the bright white hair she’d tucked away for the sake of a little stealth. The island ought to be fine for now since she was just picking up supplies before her next raid, but she couldn’t be too careful. I have to think ahead. I have to be smart.

There wasn’t anyone else around to do it for her.

C’mon, it’s not like I haven’t done this solo thing before. Hoku shook her head, making her way to the back counter of the shop. Her order from last night should be ready by now, so she’d be in and out without a hitch. It’s nothing new.

But it was a bit new. When you’d had something for so long and were forced to live without it, everything became new.

You know what you’ve got to do.

“I’m here to pick up an order from last night,” Hoku said to the man at the counter. 

His eyes flickered in recognition at the mark around her eye and he nodded, shuffling to the back. There was another man at the counter, waiting for his own order. Hoku stopped a polite distance away from him, folding her hands in front of her and waiting, trying to map out how she’d make it to the next marine base without setting off an entire armada. It’s located at the center of the island, so it’ll be a little harder to make the runaway. Can I really handle just going in and getting what I need without causing a fuss? Not causing a fuss had never really been the Straw Hat Pirate’s motto. 

Hoku ignored the tightness in her stomach in the heavy weight in her chest. You’re just getting sentimental. Suck it up.

She glanced to the side, watching the other man at the counter inspect bottles of ink in an attempt to distract herself. He was pretty well-dressed for this part of town. Maybe from the rick mansions up the hillside? Hoku blinked once, watching the thick, gloppy substance churn inside. Ugh, that’s not going to sit well on paper. It would probably bleed right through. It’d stain the brush too. Terrible quality. Don’t buy it, man. It’s not worth it.

He ran a gloved thumb over the label, seemingly fixated on it. Hoku’s eyes swept along, squinting suspiciously when his gloved fingers rolled a heavy bottle to the side, showing its brand.

“Pokian ink?” Hoku said out loud in disbelief. “That’s supposed to be Pokian ink?”

The man paused, his fingers halting over the bottle. Hoku flinched in realization, cursing herself as he started to turn toward her. She quickly whipped her gaze down, making sure her hood kept her covered from his line of sight. There’d been a flash of wavy blonde from his hair underneath his top hat, the collar of his dark coat folded down over his carvat. Don’t make a scene, you dumbass.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was amiable, nice and pleasant. She’d almost say charming, but Hoku had the displeasure of meeting plenty of people with personalities that didn’t match the nice tone of their voice. “Did you... are you familiar? With ink, I mean.”

Hoku considered keeping her mouth shut and just coming off as some rude weirdo. He probably wouldn’t bother her if she just kept quiet and let it go.

“What do you need it for?” Hoku said. She should stab herself in the foot. She really should. “Just for writing?”

“That would be ideal,” he said, sounding a bit relieved for the conversation. He turned his entire body to her, opening up his body language but Hoku kept her gaze forward, refusing to turn her face. “I... I was looking a bit into ink that might be good for painting, though I’m not very good at it.”

“You should buy paint then, not ink,” Hoku said automatically. He seemed a bit surrpised. “If, I mean, you’re going to paint. You can paint with ink, but they’re different for a reason.”

Hoku pointed a finger to the jar in his hands, not turning once. “That’s not good quality for either. Real Pokian ink doesn’t look like that. It’ll have a smooth, thick texture, depending on what it’s for. It might even seem clear sometimes, pinkish. Usually it can be found in black though, but you can tell through a jar by the way it slides when you turn it. Should move like blood.”

“I see,” he said, sounding a little amazed. Hoku nodded, curt. “I... You’re very knowledgable. Are you well-versed with Pokian crafts?”

“...I know a bit,” Hoku said, giving herself a pat on the back for not saying anything else. “Just trust me on this though.”

“I will then,” he said warmly. Hoku blinked, a bit pleased by his compliance. “Sorry,” he laughed. “Do I seem gullible?”

Yikes. Am I that easy to read? “No,” she said, “I’m glad you trust me.”

“It does seem like someone who wouldn’t know the truth wouldn’t have much to say,” he said, a little sly as he dragged his finger down the ink bottle and set it down. “Do you see fraud like this often?”

“Too much,” Hoku said instantly. She pressed her lips into a tight line at his boyish laugh. “Just... Just know most real Pokian works won’t typically say they are.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said with a small laugh. “Do you have anymore tips?”

“Not really,” Hoku forced herself to say. “If you’ve got a good eye, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Hoku tried to stifle her curiosity. “...you a collector of some kind?”

“No, nothing of the sorts,” he said quietly. There was something a bit sad to his tone, a little lost. Hoku raised a brow, turning a tiny bit. “I’m... I’m fond of the culture, I suppose. It... It feels like knowing more will help me find something I’ve lost.”

“...oh, yeah?” Hoku said, turning a tiny bit more. He hummed, soft in response. “What did you lose?”

“...something very important,” he said quietly. Hoku fell silent. “I wasn’t able to... no, I’m going to try to think a little more positively. I’m still looking. I have to keep looking.”

Hoku said nothing, keeping her eyes forward, hoping a bit for his desperate sake he’d find what he was looking for too. Lost something important, huh. 

Her chest ached.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he said politely, reaching his hand over to catch her attention. Hoku half turned. The man behind the counter was returning with her bag as well. “I... Feel free to say otherwise, but if I were to be looking for someone of Pokian descent—not for bad intentions! More... more for a specific person, do you know what would be the best way to find them?”

Hoku debated the words on her tongue. Half of her had a mind to just grab her bag over the counter and leave. He seems earnest though. His questions were weird and she didn’t like people poking around into Pokian business with unsavory intentions. But is it even my business if it’s just one person he’s looking for? What if it’s an old flame or a friend or maybe even family? Distant? Who knows?

She didn’t really owe him anything either.

“It depends on the person, you never really know unless you’ve got the right information,” Hoku decided. She grabbed her bag across the counter, already sensing his disappointment in waves. From the corner of her eye she saw his shoulders slump, hands falling down in front of him. “But if it’s just one Pokian in particular you’re looking for...”

Hoku lightly tapped the side of her head on the outside of her hood. He paused. “You should look for their coming of age mark. If you remember what it looks like or where they had theirs... you can’t miss them.”

“...I’ll remember that,” he said, sounding a bit more hopeful, a little... a little curious? “I... Thank you, miss.”

“You’re welcome,” Hoku said simply. She threw her bag over her shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thank you—“

The doors to the shop slammed open, smacking into either wall. The shopkeep fled to the back of the store and Hoku froze, staring at the entrance as three marines searched before their eyes landed on her.

“There she is!”

Son of a bitch! The man beside Hoku froze, growing rigid as he raised one hand. Hoku whipped her head to the side.

She didn’t hesitate, taking off. The marines flooded into the store and the man at the counter turned, his eyes following her in wide surprise as she jumped onto a table and leapt through the window feet first, boots smashing through the glass and flinging herself outside.

The wind ripped her hood back. Paper white hair spilled out, brushing over her face.

He stopped, frozen.

Wait.

Hoku ran, ducking into an alleyway as the marines tried to tail after her. If there’s a few, there’s more. They’re like cockroaches. She clambored onto a roof, ducking as a group ran past. She quickly took out her brush, drawing onto the thatching and pulling the bird free from the wood. Hoku blew across it, mumbling under her breath as it expanded, unfurling its wings with a resounding flap.

“Excuse me!” Hoku whirled around in surprise. The guy from the shop? “Excuse me! Wait! Please, wait a second—”

Hoku’s eyes caught the flash of blue and white uniforms. She shook her head, jumping onto her bird and taking off. It beat its massive wings once, shaking its beak in protest before it took off into the sky, leaving everyone behind.

“Wait, please! Wait! Wait! Please, wait—“

Hoku didn’t look back.

“Hoku?”

Hoku stopped. Her bird continued to fly beneath her, taking them further and further away from the marines. She blinked, mind whirring as she quietly turned behind her, staring in confusion.

“Guess I heard wrong,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Let’s go.”

Her bird banked beneath her, taking them far, far away.

“There he is! Hack! I found him! Where did you run off to—huh?” Koala’s eyes went wide, hands flying up into the air as she stopped just short of giving her friend a playful shove. “I—oh my goodness, are you okay?”

He sat, slumped over the top of the roof. His hands hung limply in his lap, gloved fingers clinging to a loose leaf of paper he’d tugged hastily out of his breast pocket. He stared out into the sky, looking forlorn and lost.

“What happened?” Koala asked, crouching down beside him. “Are you alright?”

“...I,” he stopped, looking down at the paper in his hands. “I don’t really know.”

Koala frowned, lightly rubbing her hand against his back. He ran his thumb across the carefully inked marking, curved like half a heart and smeared at just the bottom, like someone had bumped into them in the middle of it.

Sabo gently folded it back up, tucking it into his pocket, right beside his heart.

Was it even you?

You Guys Are The Best - FFXV fanfic

Missing scene after the last campfire, you may cry. You’ve been warned.

“Well… what can I say? You guys… are the best,” Noct managed despite the lump in his throat. He’d really been prepared, or so he thought. This was it the last time they’d all be together like this. The tears stinging his eyes didn’t stop even as he ducked his head. Trying to catch up on a decade’s worth of emotions was impossible. The time they had together just wasn’t enough. Noct selfishly wanted more, no, he needed more.

The quiet sounds of Prompto sniffling drew his attention back to his friends. There had to be a way to get more time. However, looking around the fire he noted that there wasn’t a dry eye among them.  “Guys, you all crying isn’t helping!” he spluttered helplessly.

“Dude, you’re, you,” Prompto couldn’t even finish his sentence as he wiped more tears from his face.

“I’m what?” Noct challenged.

“Don’t make me say it out loud. This is hard enough as it is.”

“I’m doing what I can to save everyone.”

Prompto didn’t respond he only curled further into himself in his chair. Finally, after a minute he managed to speak. “I know that, but it still doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Suddenly Noct was overcome with a wave of grief, not about what he was to do the next day, but over what he’d missed. The lack of knowledge on how his friends had handled the darkness was making him crazy. Wondering if they’d understand his need Noct broke the silence. “It won’t stop hurting,” Noct tried to ignore the desperate sound Prompto made but he still felt his eyes watering. Taking a deep breath he soldiered on. “I know what might help, though.”

“You not dying!” Prompto exclaimed as he bolted up out of the chair. “I can’t handle this right now. I know we need to be strong but this is so hard. Fuck. Dude, I’m gonna miss you so much!”

Crossing the short distance between them Noct engulfed Prompto in a hug. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Ignis clearing his throat made Noct release Prompto and look over at his advisor. “I for one am curious about what might help you,” Ignis asked, his voice barely cracking.

Smiling at how Ignis always seemed to know how to keep them on track Noct sighed heavily. “Don’t laugh, but I wanna play truth or dare.”

“Is this really the time and place for such a game?” he countered.

“Yeah, I think it is. Especially when I don’t have all the details about what happened while I was gone. I need to know more, before I – before, um.”

“Are you playing as well or just acting as the referee?” Gladio asked.

“Ref, I want to hear from you guys. I need this, I think It’ll help me.”  A loud sniffle erupted from Prompto again when he finished talking. “We don’t have to, but I was kinda hoping doing something normal would make us all feel better.” The silence was deafening as he stood waiting, for anything really. The seriousness of the moment made Noct’s chest ache, he hoped his friends would understand his needs.

“I’m not going first,” Gladio uttered after a minute.

“Nor am I,” Ignis chirped. Noct almost thought he was mad but the man had a small smile on his lips.

“Wha? Did you all just gang up on me?” Prompto whined while plunking down in his chair again.

“So are we doing this? For real?” Noct asked a small spark of hope fluttering in his heart at the idea of getting more. His friends all nodded, though Prompto rolled his eyes before he agreed. “So, truth or dare Prompto?”

“Truth,” the blond spit out immediately.

“How long did you stay in one place for?” Noct quickly asked as he paced the campsite.

Prompto shrugged and reached up to scratch his neck, a tall tell sign that he was stalling. “It was hard to find a good place to live that I liked, so I sorta bounced a lot.”

“How long?” he tried again, wanting an exact answer.

“Um, I guess my stint on Ignis’ couch a few years back was the longest.”

“I’m not gonna get mad buddy, just tell me.”

“About eight months,” Prompto offered with a wince.

“Did you prefer it that way,” Noct asked softly.

Prompto simply nodded and smiled, “It helped to not get too attached to things or people.”

The revelation that his best friend was hurting enough to not find a permanent home took Noct’s breath away. Stumbling backward he fell into his own chair and held his head in his hands. That was why his sacrifice was so important. Noct wanted to give the people something to live for; they’d been in a world of ruin for long enough.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No! Don’t say that, don’t be sorry! That’s why I’m doing this right now I need to know these things. It’s helping, honestly, it is!” Noct offered.  

Gladio’s rough voice sounded a second later, “I’m not going second either.”

“Bastard,” Ignis mumbled under his breath, though it was loud enough that Gladio heard and smiled despite himself.  

“I suppose that means it’s your turn specs. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“I have a feeling this is going to be a running theme tonight.   However, you might wanna change that after I ask my question.” Noct watched as Ignis nodded his head in understanding before waving his hand for Noct to continue. “Do you regret anything about how you handled your blindness?”

Ignis furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “I don’t believe anyone has ever asked that question before. Regret is a funny thing Noct. Sometimes it’s not something you realize you have until much later. I guess I was angry more than anything at first, I’d failed you an--,”

“No! You didn’t fail me; we’ve been over this before. I will not go through all of this just for you to still think that!” Noct exclaimed.

“I may never get over that feeling Noct, but I do feel as though I’ve managed to come to terms with my situation. Unfortunately, I can also say I do regret a great number of things. I’ve had time to make amends for most of them but sometimes only time can heal certain wounds.”

Hearing Ignis’ words caused Noct physical pain, he couldn’t bear to hear about Ignis being upset with himself. The man had done so much and it just wasn’t fair. “Ignis you have to promise me that you’ll move on, I can’t be happy in the afterlife if I have any doubts about you being fucking happy!” he wailed.

Ignis got up out of his chair and went straight to him. Kneeling on the stone haven Ignis took off his visor, setting it aside, and reached out to hold Noct’s face. “I am so proud of you, I may regret some things in life but I will never regret being your friend and standing by your side. You know I’ll do anything you ask of me,” Ignis offered humbly.

Lunging forward Noct pulled Ignis into a bone-crushing hug. “I want you to be happy; don’t ever think you failed me. You’re my rock Ignis, don’t ever forget it.”

If Ignis had been holding back his tears he wasn’t anymore. They both sat locked in an embrace sobbing quietly. Eventually, Noct leaned back and held Ignis shoulders instead. “Thanks, Specs for making me a blubbering mess.”

“Happy to help, are you at least smiling now?”

Barking out a laugh Noct shook Ignis slightly, “Yes! Now, will you promise me you’ll be happy?”

“I can’t promise that I’ll be happy all the time Noct, but I will promise to try. Is that good enough?”

“It's gonna have to be, I’ll make sure Prompto and Gladio keep an eye on you.”

Ignis let out a huff of laughter at the comment and slowly got up. Noct couldn’t help but follow behind as his friend went back to his seat. Squeezing his knee as he sat back down Noct began pacing again. “Your turn,” he stated turning to face Gladio.

“Truth,” Gladio offered before he’d even asked.

“Will you be able to find a purpose in life beyond being a shield?” After I’m gone was left unsaid but Noct knew Gladio understood his meaning. With slumped shoulders, Gladio leaned forward in his chair but didn’t say anything.

“I’d like to think so but it’s not that easy princess.”

Noct shook his head at the nickname but found himself smiling. “You don’t have to protect anyone anymore, you can be your own person if you wanted.”

“I’m not sure I want that, I’ve spent my whole life learning to guide and protect you, and I’m getting fired tomorrow,” Gladio choked out.

“Hey, come on it can’t be that bad, no more missed training sessions or having to hear me bitch about stuff.”

“Maybe I liked dealing with all that.”

“You’ll still have to keep Prompto and Ignis in line.”

“Prompto isn’t late for training and Ignis can already kick my ass highness, er, sorry, majesty,” Gladio corrected.

Hearing the honorific made Noct tear up again. Gods he was such a mess today. “Clarus raised a good son, and daughter!” Noct added quickly. “I don’t want Iris to think I’m not impressed with her skills too. You both have served the crown well; I know that whatever choice you make after tomorrow will be the right one. You’ve taught me more than you’ll know Gladio. I know we had some rough patches but we survived.”

Before he could react Gladio was out of his chair and pulling him into a hug. Gladio didn’t sob like he was but he was feeling something, Noct could tell. Gladio pushed him back after a minute and looked down at him with a smile. “Six, I know you are gonna give 'em hell tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t do any of this without you all, I hope you guys know that.”

“I can’t do another round,” Prompto squeaked suddenly. “No more just truth, let’s just tell each other happy memories we have and leave it at that.”

“Hey those happy memories are truths too,” Gladio cut in.

“Okay sure, but seriously no more sad things I need happy right now.”

“Fine, fine I can agree to that,” Noct added, feeling somewhat lighter than he had been earlier. Making peace with his friends about what the future held was exactly what he needed.  Then it hit him, Noct hadn’t exactly told Prompto how he felt about his revelation. “Prompto, you need to promise me that you’ll find someplace or someone nice to settle down with.”

“Oi, I can’t promise that, it’s not that easy!”

“I know but at least try, for me?” Noct begged. “All of you, please be happy and do awesome things. I can’t stand the thought of you being lost without me. I meant what I said earlier, you’ll are the best.”

Noct was engulfed by his friends in a rather teary-eyed hug after that, each one clinging to him and not letting go. Standing in the center of their attentions Noct knew he had the strength now to carry on. He could do this and he would win. All his friends deserved this much. They’d all sacrificed so much and now it was his turn. Noct would bring back the light.

Lacuna - Chapters 1-4 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing.

wc; 14.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

– 

-- CHAPTER ONE --

The sound of screaming jolts you awake, enough to get your heart racing, and the grogginess of sleep is completely erased from your mind. Your eyes search the room quickly, looking for some sort of intruder, until you realize it’s just your sister again. Awake before the rest of the house, uncomfortable because of the silence, and probably starving.

You’re not sure how it’s possible to have the same exact reaction every single time she does it. But your brain thinks the same thing without fail, that someone has just broken into the house, and you’re about to get murdered. It’s ridiculous for a couple of reasons. The first, is that they would most likely not go for the back room first. And the second is that no one gets murdered here.

If anything, everyone huddles up together, protecting each other the best they can. To turn against someone else would be ridiculous. There is no reason for murder, when two of you get picked off every single year. If anything, you should be teaming up together to get it stopped. But that would cost thousands of lives, once again.

With a yawn, you push yourself off of the bed, dragging your feet when it comes to taking care of your sister. The second you’re in sight, she seems to calm down a little bit, holding her arms up to you. You scoop her up, holding her against your chest as you shush her slightly, bouncing your steps a little more as you head into the kitchen.

No one else is home except the two of you. Reed and Mox are most likely on a boat in the middle of the water, fishing to fill today’s quota. They’ll be saving a couple for you guys later tonight, and if they come back with enough, you’re sure they’ll send you to the square to trade for bread, and anything else you’ll need for today.

You can take a guess already. It’ll be soaps and shampoos, and if there isn’t a nice enough outfit that you can find in your mom’s old wardrobe, then you will have to go out to buy a hand-me-down from the square. Alyssum--your sister--will most likely fit in to her outfit from last year, she hasn’t grown much since then. Your brothers stopped growing a couple of years ago, and they fit into your fathers pants and shirts just fine.

As you set your sister up on the floor with a little bit of soft, fresh bread, you head to your parents room. Holding your breath when you open the door, because you only come in here once a year. This will be the one time you permit yourself to look over it again. You don't’ stay for very long though, you don’t want to kneel and cry on the floor like you did two years ago. You’re terrified of the never ending onslaught of tears again.

Reed doesn’t have the same reaction as you and Mox do when you come into the room. Reed has to be the strongest, in his mind. He doesn’t want to watch as his younger siblings collapse and crumble beneath him. He lets you guys use him as a platform, and only sometimes do you get to return the favor.

You open the creaky wooden door, looking over the dresses. A frown comes over your face when you realize that last years had hardly fit. And if last year was a bust, then that means that all the others won’t be big enough either, right?

Even though you’re sure that it’ll be impossible for you to fit into any of them again this year, you pick out the biggest one. It’s the closest to the end, one you haven’t worn before because it was too big beforehand. How the tables have turn.

After you lay it over your arm, you shut the wardrobe doors and leave the room. After, you quickly lay the dress on the desk in the corner of the room. Something your father used to sit at every night as he wrote up things for the peacekeepers to send. While you’re in your room, you open up the shutters to see that the sun is higher than you thought. You’d think it to be early morning, the sky not even turning blue yet.

Quickly, you place your black flats beneath the dress, and you also lay out Alyssum’s baby clothes. By the time you’ve returned to the living room, Alyssum is finished with the bread. She chews on her favorite stuffed animal, staring off into space. Not a single care in the world.

Just as you’re deciding to change Alyssum and maybe start up the first bath of many that will happen, the door swings open. Mox is the first to appear in the doorway, hauling the cooler in his arms. When he sees you standing by the couch, he offers you a tight smile, before heading straight for the fridge.

On the other hand, Reed has a basket of bread. You’ll take a bet right now, that Mox had lost whatever game they were playing on the boat, making him carry the heavy cooler, while Reed got the lightest thing in the world. Reed shuts the door behind with his foot, and then he shuffles over to the counter, clearing the cutting board and knife into the sink to make room, before he sets it down.

“I’ve fed her.” you tell him, “And I’ve picked out her outfit and everything. Do I have to run down to the square for anything? Soaps?”

Mox groans out a complaint as he struggles to lift the cooler again. Reed chuckles, smirking at him, before he turns to you, “No, I got them early this morning before anyone else could. Go ahead and take a bath first, I have to help him out.”

“Shut up.” Mox shoots at him, glaring.

You leave the room quietly, picking up the dress from the room, and whatever you’ll be wearing underneath. The bath is a blur as you scrub the salt scent from your skin. It isn’t until you’re nearly done, when you realize that the soap is going to definitely cover it, with the sickeningly sweet smell that comes from it.

You take your time to dry your hair, getting dressed slowly to ensure that you don’t accidentally rip the dress, only to find out that it slips on freely. It’s not tight on you as you expected, you could run and nothing would tear. Once you leave the bathroom, you take your towel and brush with you, going to sit in your own room while you do your hair.

Just as you’ve gotten your hair to stay in place, with it being pulled back as best as possible so that you can see, Reed hands Alyssum off to you to dry off a little more and get dressed. It’s too easy for her, she doesn’t have much hair, you gather it into a tiny ponytail that makes a palm tree on the top of her head. For a cute effect, you add a bow to it. 

Reed and Mox are ready faster than you are. However, just because they’re fast, doesn’t mean that they’re not dragging their feet when it comes to leaving the house. The second you leave, it’s straight for the stage, where you’ll watch this years unfortunate tributes get reaped for the hunger games.

You could say a million bad things about the Capitol, and the games. But instead, you’ll keep it quiet this year. Because if there’s anything you don’t need right now, it’s being pulled in for the games. Your brothers can’t handle another death in the family, you know it.

Your mom had done enough damage on everyone, but your father was still around long enough to stay strong. Those are the only times you remember Reed still being so soft. Your mom had died giving birth to Alyssum, and no one had realized that she was bleeding to death until it was too late. Thankfully, you were too young, not allowed to be in the room until you were forced to say goodbye, before you were whisked away again. The next time you saw her after that was in the casket.

Your dad had done remarkably well when it came to keeping up with work, and juggling you and Alyssum. Mox and Reed were a year shy of not being in the reapings anymore, so they knew they would have to work harder, no matter what it took or sacrificed.

All that preparation had done Reed good, you suppose. Because only a few months later he would die in a fishing accident. Taking out District Four’s best fishers. For a while, there was talk that it was done on purpose, and the peacekeepers were tired of having to deal with every single person on that boat. But that wouldn’t add up correctly, because your dad was almost always a favorite of the peacekeepers, even the new ones.

In your opinion, your family has gone through enough. Too many have died, and honestly, you all were orphaned for a while, but under the radar. The second that Reed had turned eighteen, he immediately filed to be seen as the parent for all of you. Which stopped the community home from trying to snatch you up.

You guys stop to have the quick breakfast that was somehow skipped over by accident. Consisting of mostly bread, until Reed decides that it doesn’t hurt to have a little bit of fish too. When you’re all finished, the table is cleaned, and then you really have to leave the house.

The walk to the stage is mostly quiet. Reed will play around with Alyssum occasionally, but she mostly stares at the people around you. She hasn’t seen this many people gather together before, it’s mainly just you three, and then the neighbor kids. She wasn’t old enough last year to fully realize what was going on around her. Curious, for sure, but not really caring.

On the way, you manage to catch sight of one of your friends. The second that she turns her head in your direction, you wave. It takes her a moment to realize who you are because of the distance, but soon enough she buddies up next to you.

“Hey, pretty dress.” you tell her, and she beams a little bit.

“Thanks! That one’s new on you, did last year not fit?” she asks, she knows that this is your mothers dress no doubt, but she doesn’t bring it up. Instead, she alludes to it.

“It was tight enough last year, so I was sure it would rip by the seams this year. I found this one at the end.” you tell her, and she nods lightly.

The both of you go on like that, going back and forth talking about what you had done today. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to fill the silence, and suppress the sickness that’s beginning to rise in your stomach, like it does every year. You’d call it intuition if it weren’t so common.

She’s a year younger than you, so she has to move to her age group, fourteen. While you on the other hand, move to be in fifteen. As everyone slowly files in to the sections, you look to find Reed and Mox again, to see that they’re standing off to the side. Alyssum is on Reed’s shoulders, making him very easy to spot. He holds onto her hands tightly, not risking the chance of her falling. With them is one of the neighbor’s sons, Caspian. 

Soon, you turn back to look at the stage again to see that the governor is helping Mags up onto the stage. She’s the only victor of this district, and she’ll be the only help to anyone going into the arena. You really wish that the main career districts would stop being so prestigious, and allow others to win too. That they’d stop training their kids illegally and actually have a sliver of a chance like the rest of you.

They must have so many of their victor houses filled, that they’re always creating more. One new one every year, just in case they win again, which is hardly ever not the case. Instead of a single dozen, they must have four or five. 

Soon, the shuffling of feet has stopped, and the anthem plays. You watch for the fifteenth time as they play the same video. Listen as the same speech is given. That this is what the districts have earned, and being descendants from the originals that had thrown the revolution, you’ve automatically been given the same burden. Being alive is simply offensive to the Capitol.

And then the governor closes his speech, and your districts Capitol representative heads up to the microphone. Elysia Fardust--you really can’t believe that they have ridiculous names like that, as if the body modifications weren’t enough--is looking a lot more humble this year. Last year she had outdone everyone, wanting at least one year in the spotlight, you guess.

She wears a blonde wig, you can tell by the way it shines in the sun, reflecting the light off of it. They could have done their very best with it, trying to make it look realistic, and it still would have turned out looking cheap. Her theme this year seems to be blue and gold, since that’s what the frilly dress she wears is made up of. On her feet is also a pair of gold heels. They look like they would be trouble to walk in, but she moves around just fine. Around her wrists are bracelets that jangle and shine the light back into your eyes at the wrong angle.

There’s a huge smile on her face as she stands tall, “Good afternoon, citizens of District Four.” Unlike other representatives you’ve had, her accent doesn’t stand out as much, it’s a subtle thing, almost as if she’s ashamed of it, “Happy Hunger Games.”

You roll your eyes involuntarily, letting them land on the ground as you shake your head softly. Because only to the Capitol people, is this entire event amusing. Watching others fight to the death so that one may be the winner, win his life back. While everyone back home is forced to watch it in agony. A few will take bets, as their hopes for winners sink each year when all they get are dead bodies in the end.

“We’ll start with the ladies.” she chirps, and you feel the swarm of butterflies first, and then the disgust of her tone crushes all of them at once. Except for a few, which cause more harm than good, as they fly around. 

You can’t help but to turn to look at Reed and Mox, hoping that they can see where you’re standing. And miraculously, you’re able to catch Reed looking at you at the same time. Mox catches on eventually and looks over too. He also mouths for you to breathe.

The faint clinking of rings makes you look towards the stage again to see her pulling out the white paper slip. Butterflies swarm, and the only thing you can relate this feeling back to, is when you have those rare presentations in school. The type that means a lot on who you are, and the grade you recieve.

There’s a pain in your chest as you hold your breath to make all those butterflies stop flying and die from the lack of air. You’re not the only one though, you can feel every single girl that’s eligible to be put in the games, collectively hold their own breaths. Eyes wide and staring just like you are, hoping and praying that it’s not going to be you.

Elysia takes her time, unfolding the paper. She reads it to herself first it seems, before a wide smile spreads over her face, and she looks out to you girls, “Our girl tribute is (Y/n) Gallows.”

-- CHAPTER TWO --

You feel lifeless. As the blood drains from your face. As the wind leaves your lungs. As all the strength you had minutes ago suddenly diminishes. Standing is a hard thing to do. You feel like you should collapse, head aimed toward the sky as you stare. Leaving people to wonder if it’s the shock, or if it’s refusal to go up to the stage.

All you can do now is stare straight ahead at the stage. Feeling all the eyes bore on the back of your head. They’re all giving you away, and if they’d just look somewhere else, then they would have absolutely no clue that it was your name that was called. Elysia wouldn’t be able to spot you so easily like she is now, and the peacekeepers wouldn’t have started their march.

You swallow down the vomit, gritting your teeth as you clench your fists tightly at your sides. Robotically, you turn your body, being gentle on your feet as if you’ll fly into the air if you’re light enough. On the way to the walkway, you get a clear look at Reed and Mox and regret it immediately. You didn’t need to look at them, not yet.

Reed’s face is hard, straight and angry. He looks like one of those tributes that get thrown in once in a while. The type that fight really hard and nearly win every single year. Until some brat career district comes around and kills them off. Reed’s lips are pressed in a thin line, and his eyes stare into yours.

Mox isn’t as stoic. His eyes are glossy, you can see them from where you’re standing. You can also see how red and blotchy his face is getting. He’s already been crying, the tears must have burst right after your name had been called. But you don’t remember hearing the sound of him crying.

You could have easily missed it while your brain threw you in a surprised mindset. It would have been easy to miss the sounds of everyone around you--although you’re sure that there wasn’t much noise in the first place--as you were suddenly clouded by your thoughts. Different escape plans had come to mind, but all of those would have been foolish. You would be laughed at later on for being so cowardly.

When you make it to the walkway, you clear your face as best as you can, standing tall and squaring your shoulders. You force yourself to look tough, even though every single part of you is screaming. As long as you don’t look vulnerable on the outside, you’ll be fine. 

Elysia’s eyes follow you up the steps, taking your hand when you’re within length, and stopping you in front of the girls bowl. From here, you can see everyone, especially your brothers who aren’t looked so hot now. They must be envisioning it now, seeing you in the games. They must be seeing all of the scenarios, knowing that you’ll end up in at least one of them.

Elysia doesn’t waste any time, moving on to the boys bowl. She takes her time like she did the first time, reaching for one of the top ones, instead of digging her hand in the bowl like she did before. Had she plucked one from the top, you wouldn’t be where you are.

Suddenly, you’re glad that Reed and Mox are too old to be placed in the games. Too old to volunteer over some random boy that will be picked. They need to be here for Alyssum, and you know that very well. You’re sure that if it were possible, Reed would most definitely volunteer, so that he would be able to protect you in the games the entire time.

Mox wouldn’t be able to stomach it, being in the arena. He would last only so far, because he can’t kill people. He can hardly stand fish being killed so that you guys can live every single day. So that you can provide for the Capitol. Killing people is absolutely out of the question. But Reed would do it if he could. He’d do it for you because he knows that’s what an older sibling is supposed to do. Protect the younger ones.

Elysia unfolds the second paper, “Finnick Odair.”

You have to stop yourself from opening your mouth when your eyes land on him. And you know that you’re utterly screwed, because this is not an older boy that would take pity on you and hopefully keep you around in the arena because you’re from home. No, this is Finnick, fourteen, handsome, a year younger than you.

You will be expected to look over him, since you’re the older one now. The only experience you have when it comes to fourteen year-olds is the girl that you’re friends with. Who is staring at you with big eyes still, like she can’t believe she was just talking to you, and now you’re going to be sent into the games. She’s also thinking of all the possibilities.

Finnick comes down the aisle with the same hard look on his face that you had. Elysia doesn’t hold her hand out for him. Instead, she lets him walk in front of his bowl, and she turns to everyone that’s waiting below.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.” she says again, the first time was before it had started, “You can shake hands, now.”

She backs up, allowing you to get a look at Finnick. 

You’ve seen him around school, and you’ve talked to him plenty of times. He’s smart, he’s as knowledgeable with knots and fishing as you are. He’ll be a good swimmer, and he’ll know a few plants that are edible. And if he prefers spears rather than the actual fishing pole, then he’ll be able to throw well too. 

There’s got to be some hidden skills in there. But all you know for the most part, is that you’re even on some playing fields. You’re coming from the same district, you’re going to have the same skills. It won’t be like people coming from the main career districts, because they have years of training under their belt with so many things. It won’t be like the outsider districts like ten, eleven and twelve.

You’d consider Finnick a friend at this exact moment, with all of the times you have talked and all of the things you know about him. He’s your friend, and you hope that he considers you the same. Because in the arena, you’ll hope that he’ll consider an alliance. He’s from home, he’ll share the same memories, and he’ll make you feel safe again.

You take Finnick’s hand in yours, shaking it a couple of times. 

And then, you’re ushered off of the stage. You and Finnick are separated from each other as you’re guided and then locked into a room. Here, you pace the room back and forth, because it’s beginning to sink in. You’re going to be sent in an arena with twenty-three other teens your age, and you’re going to be forced to kill them. You’re going to have to survive the best you can, no matter how hard that is.

The door opens minutes later, and you look up to see your three siblings. You only have a couple of minutes to talk to them, says the peacekeeper. Then he shuts the door, and you’re engulfed in arms.

“Remember all the knots I taught you,” Reed tells you immediately, “How to prepare the fish properly, cook it thoroughly. Boil the water at least before you drink out of it. If they have iodine then that’s what you need to put in it, only a few drops.”

Between gasps of air, Mox begins to give his input, “If you can, make a spear. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just sturdy enough to throw. A strong stick, and sharpen it to a tip with a sharp rock.”

You suddenly know why they’ve been teaching you this information all these years. And you know why your dad did the same to them when the time came. It’s because if this had happened, you would be very good at all of the things that they had taught you over the years. There would be no time for hesitation inside of the arena, and there would be no possibility of that if you were so good at everything that would be used inside of there.

They’ve been preparing you this entire time.

Alyssum reaches for you, and Reed passes her over. You bounce her in your arms lightly, hugging her to your chest as you press a kiss to her forehead. This might be the last time you get to hold her. The last fuzzy memory she will have of you.

Mox must remember the same thing at the same time you do, because his arms swarm you again, and Reed follows. You stand there quietly for a long moment.

“Win, (Y/n).” Reed tells you, “Do everything you can to win. Don’t fall to the obvious things, you know how well you are. Don’t mess it up in there.”

“I know.” you whisper, and just before the doors open, Reed presents you with a freshly polished ring.

It takes you a moment before you recognize it, and that’s when your eyes go wide. It’s your mom’s engagement ring. Your mother hadn’t wanted something big on her finger, and so your dad got her something small. Something that represented the district, while also being a very beautiful ring.

It’s a silver ring, with one lone wave in the middle of it. You take it in your fingers, turning it over for a moment before you slide it on your ring finger with shaky hands. By the time you’ve looked up to thank him, there’s tears gushing down the sides of your cheeks.

Then, the door opens and Reed and Mox are scrambling to give you the last bit of affection they can afford. You kiss Alyssum one last time, before Reed carefully takes her from you. And the last thing you see are a fresh wave of tears on Mox’s face. The door shuts heavily after that, and you have to force yourself to sit down, as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You have a chance, you know that. There’s a chance that you will make it out of this, and you have to hold onto that. You can’t accept defeat just yet, because that’ll ruin your entire mindset. You’ll go into the games thinking you’re going to die, and it’ll take away all your fight. You’ll be weak, useless and depressed. Even the most incompetent fighter will be able to take you.

The doors open again, taking you by surprise as you look up to see Capsian. You and him don’t talk much. In fact, you two hardly get along because he’s always picking on you, and Reed won’t tell him to knock it off. You eventually started a grudge on him, and the resentment just grew from there on.

“I’ll take care of your brothers,” he tells you, “I’ll stay with them to help out around the house. My entire family wishes you good luck in the games.”

“Thank you,” you say, curling up on the couch, he takes this as an invitation to sit on the other end.

“You’ll be good at the games, I can feel it.” he tells you, nodding to himself as he stares out the window, “We’ll be cheering you on from here.”

You don’t say anything to this, and the rest of his few minutes is spent in silence. He wishes you luck once more, before he disappears out the doors, and then just like that, you’re left alone again. It isn’t for long, as the peacekeepers escort you to the train station, where you see your brothers standing there for a final time, since they have to see you off, no matter what happens.

You know that you’ll be on camera again here, and so you stop to stare off at the district. Then, you raise your hand to wave, eyebrows drawn together as you’re thinking.

Farewell District Four, you think, it’s been fun.

The second after you’ve stepped inside, the doors shut behind you. The train starts moving, and you can feel the shift in the air. You don’t stumble like Finnick, who has to put his hand on the wall to get a hold of himself again.

You stare at Finnick for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Because you want to have him as a friend now, and have his back for as long as it will last. Which will hopefully be up until you’re bet against each other.

“Allies?” you ask hopefully, “Until we have to kill each other?”

“You’re start awfully early, don’t you think?” he doesn’t answer you initially, but he doesn’t waste too much time, “Yes, until we have to kill each other.”

“Glad to see you two are friendly,” Elysia says, interrupting us, “Your rooms are ready for you.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, beginning to walk towards yours, but Finnick doesn’t let you go so easily.

“You want to stick together?” 

The last time you’ve talked to Finnick had to be at least a couple of weeks ago. When you have the time, it’s normally clipped, little things. Passing conversations, because there’s never enough time to have full ones. It’s during school, and hardly after unless you accidentally run into him in the square or something.

You and Finnick spend your time doing different things, sometimes. You have been trained in all things with water, with the best of Reed’s knowledge with only Mox to back him up on things. You’ve been tying and retying knots. Throwing spears, and harvesting water plants.

It’s required that Finnick do the same, but he has his own preferences. You see him with his favorite trident all the time, playing around with it. There was only one time you had seen him throw it, and when it had come out of the water, five different fish were speared. You’re not sure about the plants, but he has to know how to cook at least. And he has to know his fair share of knot tying, but you’re not sure what he knows. 

Reed tried to cover every single one that he had heard of, and even went as far as to seek out the elderly in District Four to learn how they do things too. What they remember from the times when they had to fish for the Capitol. And then he would take that information, come home and teach it all to you. You weren’t expected to know all of it, but to absorb most of it.

While Finnick probably didn’t have to deal with that almost every night. You partially know this, because you’ve seen him around with the girls in his class. Finnick looks old for his age, which means that he’s growing into his face. He’s more attractive than all the boys in your grade, at least.

The sponsors will love him, and he has to know that somewhat.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“At the training, and stuff like that.” So, he means besides the arena.

“I don’t see why not.” you tell him, stopping in front of your room, your fingers find the ring and you fidget with it slightly, not used to the feeling on your finger, “Wake me for supper?”

He nods, giving you a big smile before he goes to his own room. You walk inside, listening as the doors shut behind you. The second that it’s gone, you head for the bathroom, sliding off the ring and placing it somewhere safe on the counter. Just for an extra measure, you pull up the tab that blocks water, so it doesn’t fall in and go down the drain.

You peel off your clothes, before hurrying inside of the shower that you started. You pull out your hair, letting the warm water wash over it. And while you’re standing there, you realize just how weak you feel from the entire thing. You can’t help but to sink into a sitting position, pulling your knees to your chest as you stare off at the wall for a while.

It must have been an hour you sat in there, just thinking about what it’s going to be like for the next couple of days. You’re not going to be thrown in just like that, you’re going to have to be presentable to the Capitol. You’re going to have to earn sponsors, and look like you have a chance at winning the games. You’re going to be forced to grit your teeth some more and smile. Tough it out until you’re finally inside of the arena.

You brush your hair carefully again, pulling it out of your face again. You look over the drawers carefully, and then you decide that a tank top and shorts will do you good. You want to feel comfortable here, for as long as possible. You want to hold on to what you would be doing at home. And then you grab the ring, putting it back on your finger.

Finnick comes to knock on your door, telling you that it’s time to eat. This is when you see he’s changed into something more comfortable too. He’s doing the same thing you are, because both of you are kids. You shouldn’t be thrown into the games, because you guys are so young. People under the age of sixteen hardly win.

Twelve and thirteen are the death years. If you get picked at those ages, you’re dead, there’s nothing you can do. Your body is so small, and you have no clue what to do still. They don’t have those years under their belt, they’re still struggling with the complicated knots.

Fourteen it gets better, but only by a little bit. No one has won at the age of fourteen, the youngest it gets is fifteen, and that year was a miracle. You weren’t able to see it, but Reed had explained it to you, that it was a particularly hard game. But the boy had won by waiting it out, and found a way to make the food and water last long. He killed only one person that year, and it was the girl that would have won

Sixteen and up, they have the best chances. They’re even better if they’re careers, which makes them deadly. If you run into anyone above the age of sixteen you can consider yourself dead, because they’ll overpower you so easily. The only chance you’ll have, is if there’s distance between the both of you and you have some sort of long-range weapon.

In the diner cart, sits Elysia and Mags. Mags watches as the both of you come into the room. Elysia looks over you guys with a squint, like she can’t believe that you’re dressed like that, and then she smoothes over, relaxing her face. Probably afraid of suddenly getting wrinkles. 

The second you two have sat down, the food arrives. And it starts off slow, and all that Elysia has to tell you, is that more will keep coming, so eat slow and don’t take too much. 

You follow just that, taking in all the different flavors, and how it’s so much more different than fish and bread every single night. With the occasion fish stew if the neighbor next door invited you over for dinner if you had brought her family a lot of fish that afternoon. Those nights, you’d think of them as feasts, because you would bring over more food to share and go around if you had it to spare. Eat like kings and queens, even if it was once a month.

After a certain amount of time, Finnick is tired of the silence, “Mags, when will you begin to mentor us?”

Your eyes drag across the table, landing on her. She struggles for a moment, and then she speaks. But the words are garbled, and it takes you a second to decipher them. 

“Tomorrow morning.” 

Finnick seems to understand as well as you have, so he nods and you guys go back to eating. Somewhere along the way, your stomach starts to feel upset, but you keep eating anyway. The more food you eat, the more pounds you’ll be able to tack on. More weight you’ll have on the others that will be thrown in the arena.

Once you’re done eating, Elysia brings you to the couch to watch the recap of the games. As much as you don’t want to watch all the children get reaped—and the rich kids volunteer—you know it’ll help you in the end. Let you size up the other tributes without being there in person. When you do finally get the chance tomorrow or the day after, you’ll see how tall they are and just how screwed you may be.

The girl that’s volunteered has clearly been training for a while. You watch as the muscles in her arms tense, and then release like she’s purposely flexing to show off her strength. She’s taller, and because of how strong she is, it’s made her look bigger. However, that doesn’t stop her from being pretty. You mark her in your mind immediately, Trink is her name, she’s from District One. 

With her is a boy that isn’t as impressive, most boys who volunteer are normally tall and muscular, so nothing stands out about him. For girls, it’s just not the same. They’ve been training for just as long, but most of the time they look harmless. It isn’t until they’re thrown into the games, when they show off their true nature.

The boy’s name is Lennox, and he’s definitely taller than you, because he easily towers over the girl next to him. If you’re taking guesses on ages, then the girl is sixteen and he’s the same age or seventeen. He looks older, but then again, so does Finnick and he’s fourteen.

You look at Finnick to see how he’s accessing this entire thing too. He’s thinking, staring at the screen with a straight face, and then he laughs. When he turns to look to you, he shakes his head, “Careers.”

He says the word as if it explains what he’s laughing about, and you turn to see just in time that Trink and Lennox are grinning at each other. Arms locked around the other, as they turn to their district to wave. Clearly they’re proud of where they’ll be coming from.

Another district to watch out for is the following, two. Another part of the careers, people that you’ll be expected to team up with to hunt and kill.

The girl is taller than the boy this time, and she holds her chin high. There’s this sickening grin on her face as she bares her chest out for everyone to see. She wants them to know that she’s just as proud. Her name is Eytelle, probably stolen from one of the Capitol people. Since two is one of the favored ones as well. 

The boy looks strong though, his name is Allio. In his hand he holds a stick that he’ll turn over in his hand every now and then. You have to focus to see what he’s doing exactly, but when you catch the glint of the silver, you realize it’s not a stick. He’s playing with a knife.

“Are we allowed…?” you don’t finish the question, but Elysia picks up.

“No.” she says gruffly, shaking her head, “It’s supposed to be for safety. What is he thinking?”

You’re not sure if she’s referring to the male Capitol representative, or Allio. Who’s still playing with that knife, and you watch as it gets faster in his hand. Like it’s building up a climax, and then it cuts.

Three is technology, and it looks like the program hurries that up a little bit. Certain districts are going to be expected to do better, this will be one of them. They make the technology, they’ll know how to build weapons. They should do exceedingly well, and if the careers think any one of them have potential, they’ll be called on.

Next, it flips to your district, and this is when it slows down again. You watch as Elysia perks up, and Finnick leans forward, suddenly entranced by the sight. Again, you relive the moment when Elysia calls your name, and you watch as a couple of seconds pass, before you’re heading down the aisle.

What felt like an eternity to you, was only a few seconds for them. You thought that you had frozen to your spot while you were debating the chances of you running. To them, they thought that it was you realizing it was your name that was called or something. You watch as the emotion is cleared from your face the second that you begin walking and realize that there’s cameras.

On that stage you felt so small, but on the camera, you can clearly see that it’s not too bad. You look better than what you thought you would. Four is also part of the careers, but it’s very shaky when it comes to volunteers--hence why you nor Finnick got one--and they hardly ever team up with the pack as far as you’re concerned.

Four is a rich district, so hardly anyone starves, but you’ve had your own months when you were struggling to get used to the fact that it was only you and your brothers that were capable of gathering food. Eventually, you got very good at it again, and there’s always food stocked in the fridge. But you’ve felt starvation. Despite all that, you look healthy and well-fed. There’s no doubt that a few districts are going to be jealous of that fact, especially in the poorer parts.

There’s not much you know, you’re not allowed to talk to neighboring districts at all. But you do know that most live in poverty. And things like starvation aren’t so uncommon.

You hadn’t noticed this before, but your hands somehow found their way behind you, in the time that you had found where you needed to stand, and when Elysia went to call the boys name. Subconsciously, you were also baring your chest, almost like you were proud.

You laugh when you watch Finnick walk down the walkway again. He looks to you, to see what’s funny, “Do you always walk like that?”

Elysia must have lost focus somewhere along the way, because she blinks quickly and focuses her eyes again. Then she also laughs, “You’re almost strutting.”

He grins, face turning a little red as he shakes his head, “Does it look tough enough?”

“You look ridiculous.” but he makes up for it when he stands at the stage right next to you. That’s when the two of you look like real competitors, with you standing tall, trying to make yourself look capable. And Finnick, not even trying and he still looks intimidating.

The rest pass like a blur. District Five fuels the power, so they’re only a little favored when it comes to things. They’re healthy looking too. District Six is transportation, no one stands out. Seven is lumber, which is when you start focusing again. When you see how big the two tributes are again. You mark them off too, Cass--the girl--and Mac.

Eight is textiles, nothing interesting. Nine is grain, which means that the poor districts are starting. Ten is livestock, eleven is agriculture, and twelve is mining coal. None of them had sprouted any interest in your mind, they don’t look threatening to you. In particular, twelve is the worst. With wobbly knees and pale faces, they look like they’re going to pass out at any minute.

And then just like that Elysia snaps the tv off, and you’re left sitting there in silence. She waits for a moment, before jumping up, “I suggest you two go off to bed, tomorrow will be very important.” 

You and Finnick watch as she leaves the room, and right on cue, you two turn towards each other.

“The boy and girl from one are definitely problems,” you begin, and he nods, agreeing, “The girl is bigger than usual, which means that she’ll pose a bigger challenge.”

“They should be the first to go if we can make it possible.”

But how would that be? They’re one person of course, but they’re as good as three. They make up for the districts with people that don’t know what they’re doing, that get killed in the very beginning. In order to get them off, that would mean that a lot of people would have to band together.

“Are you suggesting we gather other tributes?” you ask, almost baffled by the idea. The more people, the more tension and fear that someone will betray the other.

“No, not too many.” he says, straightening his back, “Enough to help.”

He must see potential in the districts you saw nothing in, “We’ll have a better chance at looking them over later.”

He nods, he knows this already, “One, two and five.” 

“Maybe three,” you get up from where you’re sitting, feeling the weight of today suddenly pressuring your shoulders.

“Maybe three,” he repeats, standing up too, “Off to bed so soon?”

You roll your eyes a little bit, “Yeah, I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t feel more awake.”

-- CHAPTER THREE --

The morning comes before you’re ready for it. You drag your feet when it comes to taking a quick shower, and you throw on the nearest outfit that makes sense. It won’t really matter once you’re inside of the Capitol. You’ll be torn to pieces and then rebuilt at first chance.

You shouldn’t be too far off now. In fact, you probably should have made it there overnight, District Four is one of the closest districts to the Capitol. The only thing between you and them is District One. That one isn’t very surprising, they should be in the Capitol for a day now. The train goes so quickly, there wouldn’t be a reason to keep them from going.

You’ll probably barely have enough time to eat breakfast before you’re being shoveled off the train. 

With that thought, you place the ring back onto your finger as you head out to the dining car, or room. Once you make it there, you see that you’re not the last. Finnick and Mags are still nowhere to be seen. However, Elysia sits at the table, a black coffee in hand as she looks over something in her hand. She pays you no attention when you sit at the table.

Immediately, you’re served food. Most of it you recognize because of the special days the district gets to eat well on. Not like you don’t get to eat things like this all the time, but the special foods like pancakes are something you haven’t seen in a while. You carefully eat like you did yesterday, trying not to overdo it, but also get a good amount of food in you.

Finnick comes in not too long after, taking his seat as he also starts to eat. However, he’s basically inhaling it, as if he hasn’t eaten in days. You’re impressed for a while, until he starts to turn a little green. Only then do you begin laughing at him, and he offers you a sheepish smile.

“Hungry?” you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve been up for hours waiting to eat.” he tells you.

So he didn’t sleep last night, and that’s going to show. It took you a couple hours of tossing and turning, trying desperately to just get a little bit of time. Eventually, your body had decided that it might as well. You’re not in any danger just yet, you’re on a train to where the danger will start, but until then you’ll be fine. 

“You need your sleep,” Elysia beats you to it, “But your stylists will cover it for now.”

Finnick offers her a small glance, and then he turns to you as if he’s disinterested with everything she has to say. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not staring at you exactly, it’s past you. You turn to look over your shoulder to see that Mags is coming in now. She’s slow, and she looks like she’s struggling even with the cane she’s been provided with.

The peacekeepers take a step to help her, but you jump up before they have the chance. The mere thought of them touching her is disgusting to you. They work for the Capitol. They’re hugely ignorant and arrogant. They stand by and let all of this happen, hell, they’re coming from the districts around you.

Mags gives you a smile of appreciation, and Finnick helps out a little bit too when he sees how much trouble it is. With the help of you both, she gets seated and begins to eat. What you didn’t see before, is that she has a pad of paper, which she’s using one hand to write with, and the other to eat. 

Her neat handwriting covers the paper, in a small paragraph. She turns the paper to you, and you tilt your head to read it. For a second, your mind blanks because it believes you’ve never read cursive before, but then it slowly comes back to you. You’re mouthing the words, picking up the paper as you take your time to hand it off to Finnick.

Lesson 1: Sponsors. Looking presentable for the Capitol people will be your greatest chance at survival. In order to do that, you’ll have to play up the act a little bit. Who are you?

It’s a simple question, but you find yourself struggling to answer. When you pass the paper back to her, she writes down one word beside it.

Personality?

Oh.

“What does it say?” Finnick asks, tilting his head, but he can’t see it anyway, he’s on the other end of the table.

“Personality.” you say for him, looking to Mags, “You mean like clever, smart…?”

She nods a little, and you look to the window for a moment, thinking. Allowing Finnick to get the chance to answer before you. What is your personality?

“Well, we have the same personality for the most part.” Finnick starts to answer for the both of you, “Smart with the basic district stuff, strong.”

“Deadly.” you add, and Mags raises her eyebrows a little bit, so you elaborate, “I throw spears, and I’ve seen Finnick with a trident.”

Finnick flushes for a second, but it clears out, “The trident is on special occasions. Mostly spears.”

You sit in silence, she writes, “What else?” you shake your head for a second, trying to come up with the adjectives, and then it comes back to you, “I’m considerate and kind. I have well manners.”

Mags writes all of this down, and you can see the word ‘humble’, and then she writes down damsel.

For a second, you’re not sure what you think of it, but you see it soon enough. Playing the innocent, damsel role and having everyone underestimate you. If they overlook you, then that gives you a better chance at winning.

“I can’t play that up,” you tell her, because you remember seeing yourself on the screen again, how you stood strong, “The reaping--”

Everyone looks like that, she writes, No one wants to be targeted.

And she’s right. All those people you had seen last night were trying to look bigger than they were. Except for the kids, when their shoulders would hunch in on themselves, trying to disappear. As much as possible, you’ll all try to look strong to be picked for an alliance. Those who aren’t picked are left to suffer.

This will throw Finnick’s entire plan off course. If you play damsel, then that means you have to downplay all your skills. Make it look like you’re incapable of winning. No sponsors, no alliance. The only person that’ll be able to save you is Mags and yourself. Maybe your brothers back home will somehow afford to send something your way.

You’ll have to purposely score low in training, to really lower the expectations. Mags might even go as far to tell your stylists not to do too well on yours and Finnick’s matching outfits.

Mags writes again while you’re thinking, and you read it so you can look to Finnick, “She wants to know about you.”

Finnick looks like he’s been waiting for his turn, “Strong, tall. Almost all the girls at school love me, so attractive--”

As he’s listing what he’s made of, you see one word for him. Cunning. He’s going to be playing up the tough arrogant act. He’ll be purposely showing off, he’ll be the one that gets all the sponsors. The alliance he proposed will be his, the careers will be tripping over their feet to get him in their pack. 

Suddenly, you can’t help but to feel a little jealous, and detached.

Finnick is the boy, he’s going to be expected to win. But you have the age advantage, so they’ll also be looking to you to win. At least for some people, for others it doesn’t matter at all. Back home, they’ll be hoping that only one of you comes back in a casket.

“What’s my word?”

“Cunning,” you tell him quietly, invested in your food again. Your stomach has managed to settle, so you try to stuff it again, the more the better. You’re not sure when you’ll be able to eat after this.

The train car blacks out for a couple of seconds, and then light fills it again. Elysia looks over her shoulder, and then her face lights up as she hops up from her seat, “Home sweet home.”

You and Finnick move to the window, looking out it for a moment. Bright lights fill the car, blinding you. When you’ve blinked away the lights, you can see just how many Capitol people have come to the station to greet you two.

A sigh leaves you and for a moment you want to move away. And then, you realize that if you’re going for that damsel type, you have to look clueless. Like you’re always in a daze or something. So, you begin to wave the exact same moment Finnick does. And even through the thick walls of the train car, you can hear the roaring of their cheers.

--

Your stylist’s assistants are very nice, and they try to be as gentle as possible when it comes to what they have to do. For a minute they just stood and stared almost as if they had no clue on how to start with you. And then, they went straight to work. Removing every inch of hair from your body, besides what’s on your head. 

Your hair is now silky smooth, and smells of strawberries. Your body is sore, but soft from how many bathes they’ve made you soak in. Your nails have been cleaned, filed and they have a very thin layer of nail polish on them. Only a little bit, because they were afraid that your main stylist would want to change that later.

Your eyebrows have been plucked, leaving you sculpted. They’ve applied some sort of teeth whitener, trying to make it scary white like theirs. A couple of times they’ve told you to straighten your back to stand tall. Only then did you realize that they were taking measurements, and after that you stood very still to allow the to. 

“I think we’re all done now.” Cleo says, taking a step back to access you one last time, “Laurel is going to love you.”

She says nothing else, grabbing onto the arm of the girl that she was working with. You hadn’t heard much from her, she mostly listened as Cleo babbled on. With the occasion prompt to keep her talking. It’s almost as if she didn’t want to do any of it herself.

You rock on the table, back and forth as you stare at the wall ahead. Trying to imagine yourself winning the games. All that it’ll take to get to that point too. You find yourself regretting how you described yourself, even if you were being honest.

The door opens, revealing a very tall woman. Her hair is held back by a simple hairband, trying to keep it from her face, you’re guessing. It’s the same thing you do when you know it’ll be an irritating day. However, with these people it’s never irritating, they live in luxury. They’re all brightly colored and rich and they never have to worry about going hungry, ever.

She wears a white shirt, and a black blazer. Her pants are ironed nearly, and she has a pair of black heels on. The second she steps into the room, she slips them off though, only lowering her height just a little bit. She’s naturally tall it seems, and she seems proud of it. Not afraid to get bigger.

“I’m Laurel.” she introduces herself, “(Y/n), right?”

She has to know that it’s you, “Yeah.”

“Stand up for me?” she asks, and you slip off the table, standing in front of her. She walks around you, looking at your body, taking all of it into consideration. Laurel will stare for a moment, and then she’ll move your hair. She checks your nails to see that they’re very neat, and she seems pleased with that, “Take your robe.”

You reach over for it, slipping it on and then folding your arms over your chest anyway. You almost want to hunch in on yourself like you saw the kids doing at the reaping. But then, you remove your arms and make yourself stand a bit taller. Reminding yourself that you need to have more worth, carry that energy until it’s not carrying anymore. Until it is you.

“Mags tells me that you’re going for a more subtle look.” Laurel sits down on a nice couch, you make sure to tuck the robe beneath you as you sit, “Humble?”

You nod lightly, “I think she’s going for an underestimated look.”

“And do you feel the same?”

You dodge the question a little bit, “Finnick is going for cunning, isn’t he? I want to be presented the same way he does, but I wouldn’t mind if we did something along the lines of humble.”

She takes this into consideration, nodding lightly, “How would you feel about a two-piece? Almost like a bathing suit?”

You really hope you don’t end up in some skin-showing outfit, “Sure.”

She nods to this, looking pleased, “Blue, definitely blue.”

It’s only a couple of hours later, when you’re standing side-by-side with Finnick. He looks like he’s more in a bathing suit than you do. They’ve completely taken his shirt, and just put on a tunic almost, for his lower half. His designer has gotten him covered with vines, some drawn on and some of them real. It’s supposed to look like he’s came out of the water, like he’s been there for a while.

As a joke, you suggested dying him a blue-green because of how copper fades. His stylist considered it for a moment, even turning to Laurel to ask if it were possible to do it in an hour. But then Finnick piped up that he did not want to be a shade of green, and glared at you. It was all in good fun and he knows that. Didn’t stop him from jabbing you in your ribs when he had the chance.

You and Finnick are wearing nearly the same pair of leather sandals. Yours only goes up to your ankles, as his surrounds his calves, stopping just a little bit below the knee. He has that tunic around his waist, which wrinkles in all the right places, and it’s pinned to keep from falling.

Laurel had already built off of the bathing suit idea, deciding that you were worth more than just a pair of half-naked teenagers. She kept the aspect, but added a couple of things to it. On your upper body, your hair is curled to look more natural, going for the beachy-type but not exact. Macara, blue eyeshadow, the works go on your face. They’d outdone themselves with the white eyeliner, purposely tying to give you a goddess aspect, you guess?

You definitely know they were going Roman, even if it’s just a little bit.

They secured a bracelet around your upper arm, it’s a couple of waves. On your upper half of your body, you have a bra on almost. But the straps are thick, and the padding pushes it all up. It’s tight around the ripbs, keeping it from lifting off your chest, as they tried to show off some curves. It ends somewhere in the middle of your ribs.

And as for your waist, she decided for a high-waisted short bottom. Attached to it is a train almost. The flaps are attached to your left hip, giving it a sort-of leg slit. But the fabric is see-through, so it’s not much. The entire color scheme is a muted sea green. On your wrists are silver bracelets, on your neck is a lone shell necklace. Laurel had successfully acquired your ring, adding it to the outfit, even if the people from the stands won’t be able to see it exactly.

Laurel and Finnick’s stylist have you and Finnick walk around. Making small adjustments to everything so it flows better. In no time, you’re told to get onto your chariot with the blonde horses. Before you guys take off, Laurel makes one very last minute change.

She makes you wrap your arms around Finnick’s left one. Your right arm goes under, closest to his body. That one will stay permanently, and your left arm goes over, which will be the one you wave with and such.

“This is so exciting,” Finnick chirps, a smile already coming over his face, and then, “Oh!”

He reaches into a pocket that you didn’t know he had, and he pulls out a small sugar cube. You laugh, taking it with your left hand as you turn it over for a second. When you look over, the both of you share a look, before popping the sugar in your mouths at the same time. 

The sweet taste takes over your tongue immediately, and you can’t help but grin. As you turn to look off to the ground, you watch as the audience turns to see the newcomers coming in.

The cheering gets louder, and then there’s pointing. You smile with your teeth, giving a wave, while also trying to think of embarrassing things. It takes a moment, but it all comes rushing back, and you find your face heating up very quickly.

“She’s blushing!” one of them yells, there’s a series of screams and ‘awing’ that follow after, and Finnick laughs.

“You play the act well.”

“For you it’s not even an act.” you say through clenched teeth, making sure the smile reaches your eyes. 

Every single time you hear someone yell your name, you turn to look in that direction. If you’re going to get sponsors, you’ll want them to each every single bit of this shit up. You make surprised faces, cover your mouth, cower into Finnick and let him pretend to coax you out. The cheering only gets louder, until their attention is turned back to the newcomers.

When the chariot stops, you feel your face cooling considerably, and you sigh in relief, because it’s hard to keep thinking of embarrassing things. Once you bring up the effect again, it’s almost as if it’s useless. All those memories are so faded, that it’s hard to even think of them anymore. You hardly ever make bad mistakes like that.

You wait patiently as Snow makes his appearance and says his piece about everything. The anthem plays, you guys show up as you watch the flag. And then, there’s one final lap around the little circle, before you guys have vanished inside of the building.

There, Laurel and the other stylist are waiting for you. Laurel nods at you approvingly, probably glad that you still held on even though it wasn’t really necessary anymore. You slide off of the chariot with Finnick, stretching your arm. You cross them back over your chest, as you look around.

Soon enough, your prep teams are slowly distancing themselves, standing off to the side. Which offers a perfect opportunity for the others to see, measure you and Finnick up. You do the same, because the only other times you’ll see them is for training, and then later for the interviews. These moments where you over or underestimate them are crucial.

District one has a clear eye on you and Finnick.

“Trink and Lennox are staring.” You tell Finnick, trying not to look over, but he looks them dead on, almost like he doesn’t care.

He waves for a second, beckoning them over. You’re about to tell him that it’s a really bad idea, but they start their way over. So, you place the mask back on, and take a step back, allowing Finnick to do whatever it is he thought he wanted to do.

“Finnick,” He introduces himself, offering his hand.

Lennox looks to Trink for a moment, almost impressed as he takes Finnick’s hand, shaking it a couple of times, “Lennox.”

Of course, you know their names already, so it seems a little useless to introduce yourselves. But then it dawns on you, that they probably don’t know your names.

You make a feeble attempt to do the same, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Oh, we know.” Trink’s smile transforms into a smirk, “Gallows, huh? Like getting hung from the gallows…”

You hate her already.

You laugh lightly, trying to bring the smile to your eyes again, “I guess! I never made that connection before! It’s only fitting now that I’m in the games, huh? Do you think I have a chance?”

What if you play damsel until it comes to the private session with the gamemakers. What if you show off your skills then, score high, and then see what happens to the tributes around you. See if their sudden interest sparks and they want you on their side after all.

You wonder how Reed would feel about you teaming up with the careers. If he would be telling you to steer away from them, because they’re hostile, and vile and sometimes a little messed up in the head from all that training at a young age. It makes them want to volunteer, no sane person could truly want that unless they’ve been brainwashed.

Trink shares a look with Lennox for a second, and then behind her you see that the crowd is about to have two more people added to it, as District Two comes over here. You slump your shoulders slightly, tilting your head at the newcomers. Eytelle and Allio, the tall girl and the boy who spun the knife in his hand during the reaping.

“Are these four?” Allio asks, you take the guess now that he’s going to be the chattier one.

Eytelle is… the only comparison you can make with her, is that she’s shorter than Laurel, but not by much. Her parents must be giants, because if she’s only sixteen or so she’ll keep growing for a while. The height will give her an advantage when it comes to running, but she’ll have trouble trying to hide so easily.

“Clearly.” Trink mutters, looking over you a little more, “So what’s your skills?”

“That’s for us to know and for you to find out.” Finnick answers for both of you, “We don’t give shit away so easily. What are we getting in return?”

Trink measures this, but Allio speaks first, “Maybe a friendship if you play your cards right.”

A smile spreads over your face, as you try to look excited, “Wow! An alliance, that’ll be helpful!” 

Lennox looks pleased at the suggestion, “Only if you want.”

Finnick offers you a glance, and you bob your head, trying to urge him to agree but not look desperate. This is what he wanted after all, and if you careers band together, then there’s no doubt that all of you will get a good portion of the population inside of the arena down before you know it.

You’re already forming a plan in your head. Team up with the careers, get to know all of their skills that they’ll show off inside of the training center. There, you will memorize everything, while also learning new skills. Then, when it comes to the arena, you’ll plot their murders very carefully. You’ll pick them off very carefully, space them so it doesn’t look like your fault.

But this would all work so much better if only one of you were in the pack. Finnick lures them to you, you kill them, injure him a little bit, and send him back to get the others riled up.

It’s not a bad plan, you’ll just have to work out the kinks, and present this to Finnick.

He is your accomplice.

-- CHAPTER FOUR --

This morning, Elysia had come to your room to wake you up. For a second, you thought she was doing it so that you’d be early to the table like you normally are. But she was kind enough to inform you that you had slept in past what she wanted already. Mags has been the only reason you’ve been allowed to stay in bed for so long.

As you got ready, you were a little confused on how you’d managed to sleep for so long. You're normally one of the people first awake, especially here. Once your body decides that it has enough energy to run off of, it sort of just wakes you up. You’ve been sleeping soundly every single night, as far as you know. So the exhaustion is coming out of nowhere.

It wasn’t until you had brought it up to them, where Finnick had informed you that you hadn’t slept as soundly as you thought. After you had eaten dinner last night, you’d stayed awake a little while to bring up the plan to Finnick, to get his opinion about luring them to their deaths. He seemed to like it, and then you went off to sleep in your own room.

He says that it must have been a couple of hours before the screaming had started. The first to the room was Mags, but she wasn’t able to get you up, since speaking is difficult for her. Instead, Finnick had to shake you awake, coaxing you out of whatever nightmare you had been trapped in. 

You don’t remember any of it, it’s impossible for you to recall what happened. Elysia says that you must have been asleep still, but Finnick and Mags says you were coherent. You could hear them, and you listened to them try to calm you down from hyperventilating. Once you were in a good enough state, Mags went back to bed, and Finnick stayed a little while.

He just wanted to make sure that you would go back to sleep, but it had taken a while for you to calm down enough to get your heart to stop producing the adrenaline. Finnick tried to sit in the silence, but he wanted to know what the nightmare was about. What had gotten you to the point of screaming and hyperventilating.

You can’t remember it now, even though you’re awake and most of the time can relive the dream a little bit. It was apparently about you drowning, and that was all that you’d tell him. There had to be more though, because you’re not afraid of the water, you live in District Four. To be afraid of drowning would be so fucking ridiculous.

You have a feeling that it was about you taking your father's place in the accident, again. It’s a common nightmare you have. You’ll be on the boat with your brothers, and everything will be going good. But the boat will rock when one of you try messing with the other. Mox gets knocked off, you scramble to save him only to fall off the side. In the water, he’s nowhere to be seen. And then Reed will turn on the boat, leaving you in the middle of the water. The water only gets colder the more time goes on, and your joints will freeze in place. Swimming back to shore is impossible and you die out there, every single time.

You didn’t bother to explain all of that to Finnick, because you’re not looking for pity, it’s no point for him to know your life story. Instead you nodded along and went back to eating, because you then knew why you had been so exhausted. All it takes is one nightmare and a couple of shots of adrenaline to keep you going for a long ass time apparently.

Mags then transitioned into the training that you’re actually in right now. She pulled out her paper and pen and asked if you guys would want to train together. You told her that you’d already formed an alliance with him, so it would be pointless to hide anything. Finnick agreed, and then Mags went on to explain to hide most of your skills.

Just as you predicted anyway. She had wanted you guys to keep it low on the profile, especially you. Mainly she wants you to play dumb and go around with the stations, fumble with most of the things you do but take your time with learning them. She also knows of the career pack proposal, so she reminds you to keep friendly with them too, if that’s going to be your goal.

Of course, she doesn’t want you guys to get too attached or close. Don’t trust them because the chances of them turning on you at first chance is a little too easy. It will only be a matter of time in the arena before the tension snaps at they make a jump to kill any of you. You already know this. If you go through with the plan, then that means that they're going to be suspicious of everyone in the pack anyway. 

Finnick is supposed to be good at everything inside of the training center. But as you watch him circle and go around the stations with Allio and Lennox, you can’t help but to think he looks like an idiot. Allio is more skilled in combat than you guys are, he can throw just about anything a good distance. Lennox seems to be the same.

You’ve watched as they make him throw spears, knives, axes, swords, just to see how good he is at it. They’re looking impressed, but you’re starting to see through Finnick’s facade. He keeps making a wince face each time he thinks he’s thrown it too terribly, his confident mask is falling too easily.

“Wow, look at her.” Trink says, you look up from the fire that you’re trying to start to see that they’re staring dead straight at the girl from District Eleven. You squint for a second to see what she’s doing, and then you smile.

“Thyme, right?” Eytelle asks, her arms are crossed over her chest, and she hunches over like she’s trying to make herself look like you’re all in the same height range, “She’s showing off.”

“Aren’t we all?” you ask, turning back to the fire, getting it started this time. Trink turns over, and you clap quickly, the smile turning to a grin as you look to the other two girls, like a proud kid, “I did it!”

“Took you a while.” Eytelle mutters, “What are you actually skilled at?”

“Besides fires, and knot tying.” Trink adds.

You have to show off at least one skill to get these people interested, “I can show up Finnick with the throwing.”

Trink perks up, “Show us.”

You push yourself up from your knees, starting your way to where the boys are. On the way, you make eye contact with Thyme. She has dark hair, brown-black it looks like. She’s tan, fairly tall, green eyes. She’s got to be the same age as you, because she looks young.

“I hear that District Eleven and Twelve have the skilled hunters--or at least they know what berries and leaves are safe to eat.” you tell them, “Thyme will be very useful.”

Eytelle scoffs, “Who says we can’t hunt actual food? Like meat?”

“What happens when there’s a storm, when all the fish and forest animals are out of the question? Berries, leaves, bark and all of that will save your lives instead. Turning someone like her down simply because she comes from a poor district is…. Stupid.” you tell them, and then you stalk off to join the guys for real.

“Hey Finnick!” he turns while he’s about to throw a knife, Allio and Lennox give you a quick look up and down. You haven’t really talked to them this entire time. Over your shoulder, you can see Eytelle approaching Thyme, while Trink bounces over.

“Well, go ahead.”

You hold out your hand for the knife that Finnick is holding. He gives you a warning look almost, like you don’t know what you’re doing, before handing it over. You give him a cheeky smile, “Watch and learn.”

You flip the knife around to hold it by the blade. Taking in a deep breath, you slowly let it out because you can’t fuck this up. And then, you draw your arm back, before throwing the knife forward with all the strength possible.

The knife covers the twenty feet in less than three seconds, hitting the dummy square in the head. You tilt your head slightly, “It’s a little off center.”

“Off center? You hit that thing….” Allio trails off, and you turn around to see Finnick with a smirk on his face.

Thyme is standing with Eytelle, and she claps a little bit for you, “Can you teach me to throw like that?”

“Sure!” you turn to look at the others, letting Trink narrow her eyes on you. She might be seeing through the act a little bit, “It’s the one thing I’m good at, I’ve had so much time to learn in District Four. I’ll teach Finnick too if you guys wanna go off by yourselves.”

They agree, heading off to some sort of other place they can show off at. Once they’ve gotten out of earshot, the smile on your face drops and you mock them for a second, grabbing the nearest knife. You throw it, and it hits the chest this time, “Thinking I can understand them just because--god are they annoying.”

Finnick snorts, before turning to look at Thyme, “Finnick, this is (Y/n).”

“I’ve heard.” She chirps happily, picking up one of the knives before turning to you, “When do we get started?”

You spend the next hour or so showing your new friend how to throw. Finnick isn’t so bad, it’s just the doubt that gets him. You tell them both that the less confidence they have in the throw, the worse it’ll turn out. Plus, throwing the knife is better than nothing in most situations anyway. If you have more tucked away, then it won’t hurt.

If the person is within your range, then the best you can do is at least try. It could turn out really well and you end up nailing them like you should. Or it could be horrible, land somewhere close to them. But you could call that a warning and say you did it on purpose later on.

Thyme turns out to be really nice, and she explains how Eytelle approached her. This is when you inform her that it was your idea, no matter what Eytelle had told her. To have her with you guys could put her in danger, but you’re all going to die anyway. She’s an outlying district, the chances of her winning is already slim. You basically just gave her a chance.

She’s already picked up on your act the second that the others come back around to check up on you. This is when Finnick lets them know that you’re really skilled at it, despite failing in all the other stations you’d managed to hit while walking around with them. Except for the obvious ones with knot tying, starting the fire and all of that. 

Lennox jokingly asks what rock you’ve been living under for these past years, as if he can’t believe that you have no clue what you’re doing at all. But you just offer him a smile and shrug, saying that you don’t really have time for other things like that. You muse that if it weren’t for the fact that they’re agreeing for an alliance that you’d probably die in there alone.

They seem satisfied with that, and even though you hadn’t thanked them by any means, they say ‘you’re welcome’ and move on. This is when you and Finnick hang back. 

Soon, you get bored of training, and you’re about to wave Thyme off, before she asks if she’s really included in the alliance. You tell her that it looks like it, and they wouldn’t have let her tag around, much less offered if they were kidding. She looks pretty satisfied, and you tell her to make friends with the others too. If this this fails then she’ll want an escape plan.

After that you leave the training center with Finnick, take the elevator up to your district floor, and go in to see that Laurel is showing off designs to Mags. 

“Oops, are we walking in on something?” you ask, and Laurel looks over with a smile, “Not at all, welcome back.”

“Dinner will be served in an hour.” Elysia mutters, looking over from the tv.

“She’s telling us that we think and should probably shower.” Finnick whispers to you, Mags hears this and laughs.

She nods slightly, before shooing the both of you out the room as soon as Finnick’s stylist shows up behind you guys. It looks like they want to keep your interview outfits a surprise. It makes sense, they’re all about surprises and being prestigious. They think the outfits matter--because they do--but you don’t have that same taste. Neither does Finnick.

Back home you two would probably settle for a shirt and a pair of jeans. The occasion jacket, a nice pair of comfortable boots, and then that would be it. There’s not much to do around four, so there wouldn’t be a reason to dress up besides reaping day. You spend most of your time in a boat or in water.

Which means that you’re not even wearing boots, it would be a pair of sandals. If it’s cold in the morning, then your toes freeze and you just have to deal with it. Either you tuck your feet beneath you or shut up and just be cold. There’s a good possibility that you get thrown overboard by accident or on purpose. Or you’re spearing fish in the shallow, jeans being pulled up to your calves as you wade through the water.

You and Finnick stop outside your doors again, and he leans up against the wall.

“Allio and Lennox are annoying.”

“Stuck up?” you ask, a smile spreading over your face.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t even think that word fits them. They think everyone inside of the arena is going to be easy to kill. That I’m probably going to be the only one who poses a threat.”

Your eyebrows raise, “They’re buying my act?”

“They don’t even think it’s an act. They think that you’re geniunely stupid and you’re just getting lucky with some of the things you know.”

That’s fair, you’re trying to play up the dumb damsel thing. You have to have one skill that will impress the gamemakers, and that will be just about it. If they keep you around for your skill to kill people, then that’ll be good enough. As long as you’re around.

“That’s good.”

“Anything about the other two? Trinket and Eyeball?” he purposely gets their names wrong.

You snort, “They’re buying it as good as the other two. I managed to convince them to invite Thyme, which I think will turn out handy.”

“How did you do that anyway?”

“Simply told them that if we run low on food and can’t find any animals, then berries and leaves is gonna be all that we have. So, she’ll be our best bet.”

He’s impressed, “Smart.”

“Yeah, I know. Any of the others show potential?”

“The boy from three, he’s been making things in the corner. Saw him make a knife from a stick, some vine and a rock.” Finnick tells you.

So he’ll definitely be dangerous. He’ll know how to make his own weapons from absolutely nothing. You wonder what else he knows how to make. If he can make knives, then there’s a possibility for a bow, spears, axes. Just depends on what setting you’re all going to be placed in.

“The others seem pretty reserved, or they’re not showing off what they can do.” Finnick yawns.

“Finally tired?” you tease.

“After sitting with you all night? Hell yeah I am.” he stretches, and then relaxes, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yeah,” you wave him off, before going to your room.

You sit on the floor mainly, staring out the window, watching as the people below celebrate the games already. All you can think about is your family back home, and how they’re all holding up. You hope that Reed isn’t being too hard on Mox. You’re hoping that Mox hasn’t been crying this entire time, because there’s nothing to be worried about. You wonder if Alyssum notices that you’re gone.

You have a greater chance now. With an alliance forming, with learning all the new things that Thyme had taught you when she brought you to her special station. Showed you all the berries and leaves she could afford to before the others had come around again.

It’s almost like she didn’t want to show them, which is really fair. She doesn’t trust them as much, and you don’t either. But it also doesn’t make sense because technically you and Finnick are careers anyway. It could be because of the fact that you’re playing two different personalities, that you’re actually not stupid and just using them. Or it could be from a different reason that you don’t know.

She’s really nice though, and you’re glad that you suggested her. She shows promise, she learns really quickly. It took only a couple of minutes for her to learn to throw properly. It was just her doubt that was holding her back for the rest of the time.

When you disband the careers, you hope that she’ll stick with you. But when it comes down to the end, you don’t want to be the one that kills her. She’s too nice, she even told you a little bit about her family back home.

The more you get to know someone, the less you want to actually kill them, and that’s the painful part. If you were to get to know everyone that’s going to be thrown in, then you’ll feel bad. Except for Trink, Eytelle, Allio and Lennox, though. They volunteered and they’ve been training for this their entire lives.

It’s hard to feel bad for them. They leave everything they have behind just so that they can get the glory of a victor house. Infinite amounts of money, even though they basically already have that, since they’re rich. They just want to have their names be known for the generations to come. Be the ones to train the next pair of tributes that come on the train.

You don’t know how they’d want that at all. All they do is get the pain of watching the tributes die after they fail to do it properly. Then again, career. Volunteering. They almost always win. The works.

This really is going to suck.

--

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR 

//MASTERLIST//

Extra Help

Pairing: Teacher!Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluff💕!

You weren’t quite sure what to expect when your best friend called needing you to fill in for her at the monthly parent teacher conference. Ronan wasn’t a bad kid by any means, so you doubt that it was about him being disruptive or getting into a fight. Then again, like any 10 year old boy, he could have his moments, bringing you back to square one wondering what would be discussed at this meeting.

Reaching the wooden door, you turn the handle revealing a childlike, decorated classroom brightly lit from the remaining sun shining outside before it was due to set. Various drawings from stick figures to flowers littered the walls along with scholastic posters showing the water cycle and how to use the infamous PEMDAS, just to name a few. There were also posters of superheroes and even some of puppies that made you softly smile.

“Auntie Y/N!,” Ronan smiles hopping up from his desk to hug your legs. “Mom’s not coming?”

“Not this time, she had to work late. Now what did you do that we have to have this meeting?,” you ask eyeing him suspiciously making Ronan giggle.

“Nothing bestest auntie.”

“Bestest auntie? Now I know you definitely did something,” you respond tickling his sides.

“Hi! You must be Ronan’s godmother.” Red plaid button up hanging over his dark jeans, a man who you assume to be Ronan’s teacher emerges from his office with black frames resting on his cheeks and impeccably clean white sneakers on his feet. His gold pendant gleaming in the light only brings more attention to his broad chest, and rolled up sleeves display his muscular arms. “I’m his teacher Mr. Evans.”

His hand envelopes yours in softness and warmth as he greets you with a handshake. The bright smile on his lips not only captures you, but somehow brings comfort even though you only just met. Ronan had told countless stories of his favorite teacher, Mr. Evans, and how he was so cool, funny, and smart.

The figure standing in front of you now compared to who you envisioned then, though, was definitely not the same.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” you smile back. “Nina apologizes again for not being able to make it.”

“She doesn’t have to apologize, I completely understand. Please have a seat at my desk and we can get started.” Pulling up one of the bigger chairs for you as Ronan gets one of the student chairs for himself, you both sit in front of the mahogany desk soon meeting with his welcoming blue eyes.

“Is everything okay with Ronan? He hasn’t been any trouble has he?”

“No! No, behavior wise Ronan’s one of the best in my class! He’s polite, always tries to help out, follows the rules.”

“That’s great!,” you smile lightly nudging his arm making him shyly look down to his feet. “And what about his work?”

“For the most part it’s good, but that’s the main thing I wanted to discuss. In his other subjects, Ronan completes his assignments with no problems and participates in our class discussions answering every question I give him. However, I’ve noticed with science he struggles a bit and will kinda close off, not even wanting to try when he doesn’t understand something.”

“Why don’t you ask for help Ro? That’s part of the reason your teacher’s here.”

“I know, but I want to try to figure it out on my own. By then, everyone’s moved on though so then I can’t catch up.”

“Well that’s when you ask for help. And if you don’t want to ask in front of everybody ask after school or during downtime. Or you can always ask me or your mom. Does she already know about his science grades?,” you ask looking back at his teacher who was lightly scratching his thick beard.

“That’s um the other thing I wanted to discuss...”

“Mr. Evansss,” Ronan whines attempting to talk in a hushed tone clearly forgetting you were sat right next to him and could hear every word. “You said you wouldn’t tell.”

“I said I wouldn’t tell your mom bud, not your godmom,” he replies in the same hushed tone nearly making you laugh from their interaction. “If any of the kids have a C or lower, I make a note on their progress report or report card and they have to give it back to me signed. The last report card and past two progress reports Ronan brought them back signed and everything was fine. I ran into his mom at the store one day and she asked why did we switch to having grades online rather than physically handing them out, which confused me until I put it together and realized someone had been forging his mom’s signature.”

“Ronan Michael..”

“You do it all the time though auntie!”

“Yea to send off bills your mom may forget to sign or to get packages for you guys, which she knows about me doing! You signing for your grades is definitely not the same and wrong Ronan, you know that.”

Guilt apparent from his deep brown eyes to his pouted lips, he lightly swings his legs back and forth with hands placed under his thighs. “I was gonna bring my grade up so then I wouldn’t have to do it anymore and then mom wouldn’t know. No harm done.”

“While that’s a nice plan, you still weren’t getting any help though. So what would’ve happened if your grade didn’t get better?”

“....I uh didn’t really think that far ahead,” he answers shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay well since we don’t have a plan for that, here’s what I think. Everyday after school, you meet with Mr. Evans to go over your science lesson and do that until your grades get better and stay that way,” you suggest before once again meeting the soft eyes of his teacher. “But what do you say Mr. Evans? I don’t want to take away from your personal time or home life.”

“I don’t have a problem with it. Plus it’s just me and my dog, who I’m sure wouldn’t mind me not being there to annoy him,” he lightly chuckles making you smile. “And in fact, you and Nina are both welcome in to hear how it’s going so you don’t have to wait outside for him.”

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to let her know. Mostly it’ll be her coming, but the days she can’t make it I’ll be here.”

“Sounds good,” he smiles drumming his fingers on the desk. “Well that was pretty much everything I wanted to discuss. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, at least not right now.” Scribbling his information down, he peels off the sticky note containing his number and email address before handing it to you.

“If anything comes up just give me a call, or you can email me. I usually respond back the same day if I have time.”

“Thanks, I could’ve gotten all this from Nina though. You didn’t have to waste a stick note on me.”

“Um right,” he sheepishly states, cheeks turning a light pink as he nervously chuckles to himself. “Well one less step then.”

Looking between both your laughing faces, Ronan wasn’t quite sure what was going on between his favorite teacher and bestest aunt, but he didn’t like it.

The weeks that followed, he met with Mr. Evans as he was told usually being joined by his mother who would sit beside him making sure he really understood what was being taught. You would show up sometimes also sitting next to him making sure he got everything, but he couldn’t help but notice Mr. Evans smile a little brighter when you walked in the room. Similar to how he would get excited when his mom would say they were having pizza for dinner. And he was more talkative too, asking about her day which would eventually turn into a random conversation about things they liked or some other topic.

“So, um we’re having a field trip to the planetarium next week and I was wondering if you wanted to come along?,” he asked one day trying to be quiet as Ronan answered his last couple questions.

“To chaperone? I’d love to help out but honestly if I have to look after more than five kids, it’s gonna be a disaster,” you answer making him laugh.

“You don’t have to worry, on paper yea you’re a chaperone but really you’ll just be with me. And since we’re not having class after and the kids can go home as soon as we get back, I was thinking we could go grab dinner at that place I was telling you about.”

You tried to hide your face so he wouldn’t see the giddy smile forming on your lips, but from his own deep chuckle and his fingers briefly grazing yours resting on the table you knew you weren’t quick enough.

“I’m hoping that smile means yes?,” he whispers.

“Done!,” Ronan interrupts before you can answer, quickly gathering his backpack before pulling your hand. “Cmon auntie I’m starving.”

“Hold on Ro, we have to see if your answers are right first then we can leave,” you giggle.

“But I know it’s right! I’ve been doing really well, even Mr. Evans will tell you.”

“Yep everything’s right, and that is true he is doing much better.”

“See? Now time for food! Bye Mr. Evans!,” Ronan rushes pulling you behind him.

“Bye Ronan,” he chuckles before looking at you. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yea, I’ll let you know if anything changes though.” With a final wave, you feel your heart swell with excitement for your upcoming date as you walk down the hall. Ronan, on the other hand, hoped for anything to stop you from going with his teacher next week.

———

“Hey what’s up with your godmom and Mr. Evans?,” Sarah, one of friends, asks as they watch the two giggle while going over the constellation map shining on the wall.

After getting all the students organized in their groups with their chaperones, and saying everything he needed to, the both of you had been connected at the hip walking around and exploring everything the exhibits had to offer. Ronan wanted nothing more than to go home so he wouldn’t have to see you two together.

“Nothing.”

“Because they look at each other the way my parents do. All lovey dovey and cutesy like.”

“They’re just friends,” he answers, a little annoyed by everything going on around him.

“Well if they do get together,” Zach, his other friend begins, “say bye to your aunt.”

“Say goodbye?”

“Yea. It’s like with my older brother, he got a girlfriend and now I barely see him.”

“Ooh and if Mr. Evans becomes your uncle, he’s gonna be tougher on you,” Sarah adds. “My grandma was my mom’s teacher and she said she was so hard on her she couldn’t even make a B and if she did, she got in trouble.”

Ronan knew his teacher and he’d never do that. He was like a friend and friend’s wouldn’t be mean to each other. Plus his godmother would never let him treat her precious godson that way. Watching the two of you walk to another exhibit, he began to think though, what if you forgot all about him now that you had Mr. Evans?

What if his friends were right and you dating him caused all these bad things to happen? He didn’t know how he would do it, but he had to stop this quick before things got worse.

———

“Did you know Jupiter is so big, 1000 Earth’s can fit in it?,” Chris asks as you both walk through the life size replica of the solar system.

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“And the sun makes up 99% of the solar system’s mass, which is crazy since what can be seen in the sky is just a small dot. And although we know about our own galaxy, there are so many more we’ve discovered, and have yet to, possibly with various planets of their own that have their own unique properties, which just astounds me and-.”

Hearing your slight giggle, he turns to see your brown eyes on him now realizing how you probably felt like you were back in elementary school yourself from his information dump.

“S-sorry about the rambling. I know it’s probably boring, and I’ve been told I really need to stop-.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not boring at all! I’d actually like it if you keep going,” you shyly smile holding onto his hand. Thumb rubbing against the back of your hand, he slowly steps closer to you stopping inches from your chests being pressed together.

“Okay well let’s see. Both Neptune and Uranus have rain storms of solid diamonds. And while I’m sure that would be a beautiful sight, it’s nothing compared to what’s in front of me right now.”

Before you can speak, you both hear approaching small footsteps making you separate to find Ronan grabbing his stomach as if he was in pain.

“Ro you okay? Why are you holding your stomach?,” you ask walking up to him with Chris following close behind.

“No, it hurts auntie. I think I need to go home.”

“Well the bus is our ride back, do you think you can hold on until it’s time for everyone to go?”

“No, I think I need to go now,” he groans rubbing his stomach.

“Alright, let me call your mom and see if she’ll come get you.”

“I want you to come too though,” he whines hugging your mid section as you dial your friend’s number.

“Ro your mom can handle it. I’ll come by and check on you later though okay?”

“No, you have to leave when I do!,” he protests hiding his face in your abdomen as you rub his back confused by his outburst and sudden clinginess.

Clearly something else was going on here besides an upset stomach.

“Hey, can you give us a minute?,” you ask Chris, to which he nods his head giving you a sympathetic smile.

“I’ll be outside if you guys need me.” Sneakers squeaking against the tile floor, you wait until he leaves before squatting down to meet Ronan’s red eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“What’s really going on Ro? Is somebody bothering you?,” you ask wiping his tears.

“Yea, Mr. Evans.”

“How is he bothering you?”

“Because he’s gonna take you away and we’re never gonna see each other again. Then he’s gonna be mean to me for making less than an A and-,”

“Whoa whoa where is all this coming from?”

“Well...i-it’s what my friends said,” he responds making you softly laugh.

“Honey no one will EVER take me away from you. Not Mr. Evans or any other guy that may come along. And your teacher would never be rude to you like that, he cares about all of you guys and just wants to make sure you do your best. Look how much he helped you get your science grade back up.”

“Yea but that’s before you get married and he changes,” he sniffles.

“What all do these kids talk about?,” you wonder as you shake your head. “Buddy I can promise you marriage is definitely a far far FAR off topic that isn’t in sight anytime soon,” you softly smile. “But from what I’ve seen, even if we did get married, he would still be that fun teacher you always say is your favorite. You don’t need to worry about that though okay? You keep focusing on being the funny, smart, amazing kid I know and love.”

“Okay, and you promise nothing’s gonna change?,” he asks with those big brown eyes that could turn stone into the softest powder.

“I promise with every breath in my body.” Hugging him close, he giggles as you repeatedly kiss his cheeks squeezing him tight.

“Auntie I can’t breathe!”

“Too bad because I’m not letting you go,” you both laugh as you hug each other.

“Hey they’re about to start loading up the buses soon so we can go back to school,” Chris says walking up to the both of you. “Your stomach still hurt Ronan?”

“No, it’s better now. Just a false alarm.”

“That’s good, if it starts again though let one of us know and we’ll call your mom okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles up at the much taller man. “Um Mr. Evans?”

“Yea bud?”

“It’s okay if you and my auntie like each other. I’m fine with it now.”

“Oh, um, well thank you for your blessing,” he chuckles looking at you softly laughing yourself.

Proudly nodding once, he walks to the door with you and Chris not that far behind.

“What was that about?,” he asks still amused by what he just witnessed.

“I’ll tell you later,” you giggle joining hands as you both walk out side by side.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @jojolu @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

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Hi! Just wondering if you could write something with Bucky sneezing For 47. Hiding sneezes and/or 52. Did you just sneeze? Any pairing/relationship is fine. 😊

Ahh, I love this so much for Bucky! Thank you, anon! Seeing as TFAWS is coming out later this year (and I can’t wait!!!), I decided to do Sam/Bucky for this prompt, with a hopelessly pining, sick Bucky. Hope you like it <3

As if going on a mission in the middle of fucking nowhere wasn’t bad enough, Bucky curses internally, they are now stuck in a small cabin miles away from civilization for who knows how long. The blizzard had hit them by surprise, and before they even had time to think about it, Sam had been sent coordinates to the nearest safe house. They got there just before the snow made it impossible to drive on the roads safely. Sam had been so relieved when they pulled into the driveway, Bucky too, but he’s still a little hesitant even as he got out of the car.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with the cabin. It has a functional kitchen and bathroom, a fireplace in the small living space, and though both of them had doubted it, it had electricity. So yeah, it’s sufficient.

There’s just one, small problem, though. There’s only has one bed and the sofa is just about big enough for the two of them to sit upright in. They can, if they’re really squeezed together, but even for just one person to sleep on that, it would result in severe back aches for days.

“We’ll just share the bed,” Sam had said and shrugged nonchalantly before lighting the fireplace.

Okay, so maybe there’s more than just one problem.

Bucky has slept next to a lot of guys, even in smaller beds than this one. He and Steve did it all the time before the, and sometimes during the war there was just no other choice than cramming up. On a previous mission he’d even bunked with Barton, and though it wasn’t necessarily comfortable, it could been worse. This couldn’t get any worse.

No, because the difference is that Bucky has never been attracted to any of the one’s he slept next to. He didn’t have the desire to swing his arm over their waist and pull them close, to bury his face in their neck and whisper sweet nothings. With Sam, it’s different.

With Sam, Bucky wants to do all that, wants to have Sam’s fingers thread through his hair. He wants to wake to see Sam’s relaxed face, how his lips are slightly parted and just how peaceful he looks when he sleeps. But that would never happen. Sam simply doesn’t like him like that, and Bucky can handle that just fine. When they’re not pressed together like sardines in a tin, that is.

The third problem, and Bucky wants the world to swallow him whole, is that because of the drastic weather change, Bucky is ninety-nine percent sure that he’s come down with a cold. His nose has had that runny-itchy feeling all day, and his head is starting to feel stuffy, the way it always gets when he has a head cold. If he’s going to be sleeping next to his crush— no, the guy he’s in love with, he would prefer to do it when he’s not all sniffly and full of germs.

He’s been trying to downplay it for the last few hours, rubbing his nose tentatively with the cuff of his sweater, stifling a few sneezes when Sam hadn’t looked. It was getting harder to keep the sniffles at bay, though, with how the cabin was being heated by the fireplace and how his colds always get worse in the evening.

When Sam decides to look through the cupboards to look for something to make for dinner, Bucky excuses himself to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he notices the pink tint to the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He looks like a child, Bucky thinks. His Ma and Steve had always said he looked so young and innocent and that it was really cute how his face flushed that way when he was sick. Bucky couldn’t see it back then, but he does see it now. Fucking perfect. A man with blushing cheeks and a nose channeling Rudolph is just what Sam’s looking for. Bucky rolls his eyes at himself, and pulls some toilet paper from the roll to blow his nose into.

It triggers a few coughs that Bucky desperately tries to mute, not wanting Sam to hear it. He flushes the paper and goes back out to Sam, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he sees Sam stirring something in a pot.

“Soup,” Sam explains when he catches the questioning frown on Bucky’s face. “Thought it seemed fitting,” he adds and glances out at the steadily increasing layer of snow.

They eat at the small table in the kitchen. The soup tastes nice, from what Bucky can taste, anyway, especially considering it was from a can and not homemade like his Ma used to make it. Maybe it’s because Sam made it that Bucky likes it. Not that he says that out loud.

Bucky offers to clean the dishes, but Sam insists he’ll do it himself.

“Can’t blame me for not doing anything if you won’t let me help you,” Bucky says, earning a small grin from Sam.

“I like doing dishes,” Sam says. “It’s domestic. Simple… you’ll just owe me a favor instead.” Sam smirks at him with a mischievous glance. Bucky’s breath catches at the twinkle in his eyes. They’re beautiful; a rich chocolate color, full of depths and warmth and life.

Bucky shakes himself out of the trance. Get a grip, Barnes.

He rolls his eyes at Sam instead and snorts. “You wish, Wilson.”

Bucky is amazed at how well he’s managed to conceal how badly this cold is affecting him. By 9 pm, he had a splintering head ache and his nose is completely clogged up. He can’t pronounce his consonants right and trying to avoid words that include n’s and m’s is downright exhausting. When Sam suggests that they head to bed, Bucky is both relieved and absolutely terrified.

“I’ll just take the couch,” Bucky says stiffly. He doesn’t want to sleep on the sofa, he really doesn’t, but an aching back is better than having Sam listen to him sniffle and sneeze and cough throughout the entire night.

Sam glares at him with crossed arms. “We both know you’re never going to fall asleep on that thing,” Sam states. “The bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Bucky swallows around nothing. His throat’s dry, and it’s not just because of his cold.

“C’mon,” Sam says and waves towards the bedroom.

Bucky hesitates, but it’ll seem even more suspicious if he keeps refusing to sleep in an actual bed instead of a 40-inch wide sofa.

“Which side do you want?” Sam asks, looking over the bed.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky mutters and goes to the left side of the bed when Sam moves for the right.

They pull out their sleepwear from their bags. Both of them brought a pair of sweatpants, but Bucky took an old henley while Sam chose a plain t-shirt that’s slightly too small for him. He looks sinfully good in it, according to Bucky.

“Do you want to use the bathroom first or?”

“Uh… no. No, you can go first,” Bucky answers and begins pulling off his jeans and shuffles into his sweats when Sam nods and leaves through the door.

When Sam’s out of sight, Bucky sighs and buries his face is his hands. This is going to be a nightmare. Maybe he’ll be able to sneak out of the bed room later, but Sam has to fall asleep before he can do that. On top of that, a tingling sensation is beginning to build at the back of Bucky’s nose. He tries pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing his septum against his shoulder to impede the tickle, but it lingers, unable to fully disappear or even just coax it out. He sighs again, in frustration.

“Tired?”

Bucky’s head snaps up; he hadn’t seen nor heard Sam entering the bedroom. “Um, y-yeah… I guess.”

“Me too… the bathroom’s all yours.”

Bucky mumbles a quiet thanks and goes to brush his teeth. He tries blowing his nose, but that doesn’t rid the persistent itch either.

When he comes back into the bedroom, Sam’s tucked up under the covers, arms behind his head as he stares at Bucky when he walks through the door.

“Stop staring at me,” Bucky grumbles, “it’s creepy.”

“Sorry,” Sam laughs.

Bucky feels a mixture of disappointment and ease when Sam does look away. Bucky likes when he Sam looks at him, even though he blushes like a school girl when they gain eye contact. He just always looks so happy, a wide smile plastered on his face and that characteristic shimmer in his eyes. But Bucky wants that to be for him, because of him, and that’s… that’s not the case. Instead, it makes him feel sad, knowing that there’s a reason behind that smile that isn’t Bucky.

Bucky shifts as he gets under the covers, being careful not to touch Sam as he lays down, but even though bed fits both of them, it’s not big enough for them to be sprawled out without touching each other. Bucky turns his back towards Sam, who’s still lying on his back, looking towards the ceiling.

“Night, Buck,” Sam says, a casts a glance at the back of Bucky’s head, the long brown hair falling loosely onto the pillow.

“Night, Sam,” Bucky echoes.

They lie in silence for a while, and Bucky thinks that he might just me able to fall asleep, but of course, because he’s just that lucky, the tingle in his nose flares up again. He tries to stop it by wrinkling his nose, pushing his knuckles against it, even pinching it shut, but it’s still there, becoming more intense with every passing second.

Soon enough, he draws in a breath, grabs a handful of the duvet and crushes his face into it, stifling the sneezes to make them as quiet as possible.

“ng’tCHh! HNgx!”

Bucky’s body jerks slightly with the sneezes, and it feels horrible holding them in like that. He always gets super congested when he’s sick, which makes his sneezes really strong and stuffy. He gives an experimental sniff and exhales warily.

“Huh?”

Bucky stiffens. Shit. “What?” He asks, feigning ignorance.

“Nothing,” Sam says. “Thought you said something.”

A couple of minutes pass before the tickle resurfaces. Bucky tries with every inch of energy he has left to swallow the itch, but he already knows it’s futile.

“hngxt! h-h-H’tsngshh!”

He stifles the first one successfully, but the second one slips a the end.

“Was that a sneeze?” Sam asks and Bucky is mentally slapping himself.

“Ndo,” he lies, but it sounds unconvincing, even to him. It doesn’t help that a sudden sneeze creeps up on him before he gets a chance to react, either. “hh’ttsch!”

“Bless you,” Sam says, his voice soft.

“Sorry,” Bucky sighs, and now that he’s already blown his cover, he might as well just give up. “snffSNFF! Than’gks.”

“Are you sick?” Sam asks and now he just sounds concerned. He’s propped up on his elbow, a hand placed on Bucky’s shoulder. It feels nice, so nice, when Sam touches him like this, softly, naturally, because Sam’s always been a very tactile person, and Bucky would be lying if he said he didn’t spend hours thinking about all the small touches they share, like when he pats him on the shoulder after a mission, or when their fingers brush when they both reach for the coffee pot.

And apparently, Bucky has these masochistic tendencies, because he think about Sam all the time, even when he’s not right here, and it’s killing him. And Bucky’s selfish, because even just the the thought of Sam touching someone else like this makes him furious, makes his face burn with unjustified anger.

“Ndo, I’m fi—“ Bucky tries to answer, but he’s cut off by a harsh coughing fit. Sam winces and squeezes his shoulder.

“Buck,” he murmurs, voice impossibly softer.

“I’m okay,” Bucky assures. “Just a cold.”

Sam hums and lays back down. After a few minutes, when Bucky thinks Sam’s fallen asleep, Sam suddenly says, “Is it just me or is it really cold in here?”

“Uh… I think it’s just you.”

Sam hums, but he shivers violently. Bucky hears him draw in a breath, but he hesitates and it’s only after a few seconds of a pregnant silence that Sam speaks. “You remember that favor you owed me? For doing the dishes,” Sam clarifies, and Bucky huffs a laugh.

“I owe you ndo such thidng. snff! But sure, what about it?”

“Can I, maybe, cash it in now?” Sam’s voice sounds uncertain all of a sudden.

“What is it?”

“Warm me up? Please?”

Bucky freezes and it’s like his brain has short-circuited. “Uh… y-yeah— I mean… okay. Sure,” Bucky manages, and Sam quickly scoots closer to Bucky, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s middle and places his face in the crooks of Bucky’s neck.

“Mhmm,” Sam sighs contentedly. “’S nice.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to answer other than nod and follow Sam’s lead, hugging the smaller man closer to him. “Are you sure about this?” Bucky hears himself ask, just because he can’t let himself have anything good. “I mean, I’m kinda sick.”

He waits for Sam to withdraw himself from his grasp, but contrary to Bucky’s beliefs, Sam snuggles in closer, nosing his face into the long, dark hair, lips brushing against his jaw.

“I don’t care… I’ll take care of you,” Sam whispers, and warmth pools in Bucky’s chest, fluttering with happiness and affection. He wants to tell Sam how he feels, right this second, but there’s too many things to say, and he doesn’t know where to start, and… and then Sam’s breath evens out.

Bucky exhales. He’ll tell him everything tomorrow. Tonight, he’ll just enjoy the closeness of Sam, how perfect this moment is. Maybe a cabin in the middle of nowhere with only one bed was exactly what Bucky needed.

weightless

Pairing: Ochako Uraraka x Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Uraraka can't wait to show you what she learned from her work-study with Pro Hero Gunhead. While you're in awe of her new skills you accidentally let it slip that you have feelings for her.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: In this I assume that Uraraka’s quirk works only if she touches something with her hands, she can’t activate it on something if it only touches her arm, leg, etc.

It was typical for you to show up just on time or late to class. Something that often got you in some trouble with your class rep. and teacher quite a bit, but you didn't mind, you found it worth it to enjoy a nice slow morning. Starting the day like that reminded you of your hometown, the one you had to leave to start your years at U.A. However, while you usually found it worth it, today everyone was finally done with their work studies and you were dying to ask your best friend how hers went. You didn't have the time to now with class starting as soon as you sat down (getting side-eyed by Iida).

Your home town was smaller, fewer buildings, fewer people, less commotion. There was also less crime that could be handled by just over a handful of hero agencies. One hero was even a sort of mascot for the town, her and her agency usually taking on the most serious cases and restoring peace in the community. She was the one who inspired you to be a hero growing up and for the last week you'd had the chance to train under her for your work-study, it was a dream come true. When you first moved into the large city to attend U.A. all the people were overwhelming. Back home you knew most people's faces but it seemed like here, you never saw the same one twice.

Until you saw Uraraka's face.

After just that first time, it was like you saw her everywhere, you just couldn't get her sweet, friendly smile out of your head.

On your first day, you were lost and tapped on the shoulder of the first person in front of you to ask for help. When she turned it was like a slow-motion movie scene played right in front of your eyes. The way her hair swished around her face, the ever-present light dusting of pink on her cheeks. It took you a second to squeak out your question to her, frazzled by her good looks. As it turned out, she was in the same class and slightly lost as well. The two of you talked about your middle schools and your expectations of the hero course as you worked to find the 1A classroom. And just like that, you'd made a friend on the very first day. You didn't want to let your little crush get in the way of that friendship, she was the only person in the whole city you really knew, so you kept your feelings tucked into a little box inside your heart.

She was your best friend in the class and you were hers. Though your heart did ache at seeing her precious self sometimes, you couldn't live with yourself if you ruined your friendship with her by telling her how you truly feel. It was great enough just being friends, though she was a small girl she had so much determination in her. She was kind and strategic as a hero should be. If only she hadn't committed the crime of stealing your heart. It was fun to be in the hero course alongside her, watching her learn and grow and get closer to her goal of helping her family each day.

You knew she was really pumped for her week of training with the pro hero Gunhead so you couldn't wait to grill her on what she learned as soon as you saw her again. Though now you had to wait till lunch since you had once again shown up just a little too late (resulting in a detention with Aizawa). So when during lunch after you'd both gotten your food and went to sit at your usual table you were so ready to finally talk to her.

"So how was your training with Gunhead?" you ask politely, trying not to seem overly eager.

As soon as she registers the question her expression gets all intense like when she was readying herself for the sports festival and she turns to you to give the somewhat ominous answer "It was absolutely amazing."

"Really? Gunhead seems like he'd be a little intimidating to work with.", with this, her face returns to normal and she responds to correct you.

"He was intimidating in the sense that he is a pro hero but when you meet him in person he talks and acts really cutely.", she giggles as she finishes the sentence. That damn giggle that gives you butterflies every time.

"Hm.", you reply as inconspicuously as possible while you're still coming down from the lightheadedness of just being around her after so long apart (that you actually weren't sure if it was a side effect of your feelings or her quirk).

She's happy to go on, "He taught me so much though. I learned so much about hand-to-hand combat, something I really could've used when fighting against Bakugo back at the sports festival.". The sports festival. It was hard for you to think about the sports festival. You had to see the most precious thing in the world fall unconscious from the intensity of all the explosions she endured.

Since you're still quiet she continues, "I've actually been dying to spar with someone since I've learned these cool skills, would you spar with me after school?", she turns to you doe-eyed and waiting for a response.

"Of course." You smile now, happy that the dread of the festival is behind you. "Oh but I have detention with Aizawa for an hour.". She seemed confused at this, which is weird, she knows just as well as you how often you get in trouble for your tardiness.

"I'll wait for you.", she says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'd rather you than someone else anyway. I know you wouldn't even think about holding back in a match against me.", she explains, "plus we haven't had a lot of time together recently and I miss hanging out with you," at this your heart clenches. She'd be willing to wait. She wanted to hang out anyway. "You're my best friend Y/n.", she ends with such a genuine a smile.

You're her best friend. Friend.

If only she knew what an awful best friend you were, always wishing for more.

You push that away though, this is something she's been looking forward to and she wants to work out her new fighting skills so you agree and the two of you set up to meet in the gym after your detention session with Aizawa.

---

You're mentally scolding yourself on the way to the training gym after you changed into your PE clothes. It's gotten harder and harder for you to ignore your feelings since the two of you have gotten closer, you've only learned so much more about how wonderful she is, how kind and smart she is. You should really tell her, it'd feel dirty to keep it a secret, to continue being friends without her knowing how her laugh makes your heart stutter. By the time you get to the gym door you resolve that you will confess on your walk to the train station with her after school on the following Monday. It'll be hard and awkward and you know you'll get your heart broken but such a sweet person deserves to know, deserves better friends.

When you open the door you see her stretching. She brought towels and water bottles for the both of you, she knows how you forget to take care of yourself properly after training.

At the sound of the door she looks in your direction and waves you over to stretch. Together, you count out the stretches and you survey the area, noting how many of the typical objects are missing. When the two of you are finished stretching, you bring this up.

"Where are the realistic obstacles?". Aizawa likes to have them around during training matches so that you can get used to villains who will take advantage of their surroundings. Uraraka typically gravitated toward them due to the advantage they gave her with the use of her quirk.

"Well, sometimes the streets really are empty.", she says with a mischievous smile. (As mischievous as a pure bubble of joy like her can get.) You shrug it off and get the timer ready. Also something ingrained in Aizawa's training, believing time is a key element in saving the day.

You ready your stance. Usually you charge straight in when sparring with Uraraka since you know she’s not the most offensive due to the quirks of most of her opponents. You always try and find a way to grab her arms or something else to make sure her hands can't reach you before you win the match because you know the second her fingers touch you its game over. You've pretty much got it down to a science of possible outcomes when you go in for a fight against her so you cycle through the index of moves you have in your head as the timer counts down to start. You force yourself to focus on the fight, not the opponent. While you were so focused though you failed to see how her beginning stance is a little different than usual.

This time, when you charge, she charges too.

You don't have time to register this before you're flipped and on your stomach, hands pinned behind your back and Uraraka straddles your hips to keep you in place. Moments pass filled only with silence and some heavy breathing.

Uraraka swings her leg so that she is kneeling next to you, letting go of your hands.

"Sorry, did I drop you too hard?", her voice is a little panicked and it seems like she's even surprised herself a little with her strength. You turn your head to the side to stare at her with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. She looks a little scared from your expression, then confused as a smile spreads across your face.

She really is incredible. You remember now how she expressed her enthusiasm about learning new hand-to-hand techniques from Gunhead before you parted ways for your separate work studies. From the day you first met her she was the cutest girl you had ever seen and she always has been but you've also gotten to see more sides of her, watch her hero potential grow. "Wow.", you huff out, still catching your breath.

Once she sees that you are physically ok she smiles with you and starts gushing about how fun her training with the pro hero was. "I know right! He taught he how to fight so well and I don't even need to rely on my quirk for up close battle! It's so cool!"

"You're so cool.", you're in awe. She giggles at your tone and continues.

"I can't wait for the next time we do one-on-one matches for hero training! I'd love to see the look on my opponents face when they've underestimated my skill.", she's giggling, she's so pretty. "I really like knowing that I have this new skill I can count on.", and then you let it slip out.

"I really like you.". You don't even realize what you said until you see her face fall.

"What?", now her eyes are wide, she looks like she just took one of Denki's shocks.

"Oh no I- I didn't mean... I just...uh...", you can't string a sentence together. You stop trying for a moment as she starts to float upwards, staring off into space.

"You...you "really like"...me?" she's off the floor now and just beginning to float out of reach. You grab her hand before she spins any further from you.

"Ochako, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it. Don't leave.", now you're freaking out a little. You knew the odds weren't in your favor and she most likely wouldn't like you back, not the same. But you didn't think she'd be so eager to get away from you.

At your plea though, she looks back down and realizes how far she's gotten from the ground, touching her fingertips together and settling herself stable on her feet.

"You really like me?" She asks again but this time she's really searching for the answer, eyes darting over your face like she might find it written somewhere on your skin.

You hang your head in shame. "Yes.". You're closing your eyes trying to brace for her rejection.

"I...I really like you too.", she says it slowly. It sounds like a question.

And now it's your turn to ask "You really like me too?", you try not to get your hopes up too high.

"You're my best friend Y/n of course I do." She presses it like she’s trying to reassure you.

"I mean more than that Uraraka.", you tell her sadly.

"I know I..", she's searching for her words now. "You're my best friend and I never thought about it but more... more sounds nice.", she looks back to you with a smile. "More sounds perfect.". She puts her hands on either side of your face and giggles as you start to smile back.

You grab her wrists and ask one more time, "Really?"

She leans in to rest her forehead against yours, looking at you with her big, beautiful eyes, "Yes really."

You stare into each others eyes for a few beats before you can't take the intensity of the gaze and you both fall into a laughing fit.

You feel so happy. It's like you're on cloud nine. She likes you back, she really likes you back. You feel overjoyed, you feel weightless.

Wait. You feel a little too weightless.

You look down to see the ground far below your feet and you gasp, now clutching Uraraka in a hug. She hugs you back before she realized herself that she's made the two of you float. It makes her laugh a little harder before she pulls back, holding your hands and beginning to spin the two of you in the air around the gym. Its almost like dancing.

The two of you waste away the afternoon around the gym like that, the plan to spar forgotten.

(you’re my) home

seungkwan x reader (exes to lovers!au, angst, fluff)

a/n: this took far longer than i thought it would, but i hope i did seungkwan justice! title is taken from the lyrics of “home,” of course~ thanks @wangtuanian​ as always for listening to me when i’m throwing ideas at the wall. in the editing stages this was referred to as “like a slow burn but worse,” so... yeah, happy reading!

wc: 9,086

August 29

“So, you’re saying you want to break up?”

“Well, I mean — yeah. I just don’t think I can do distance. And if we break up while you’re abroad and end up hating each other…”

“It’ll be awkward.”

“Right.”

“Right. Okay. Then let’s break up, Seungkwan.”

December 25

It was only two days after that conversation with Seungkwan that you boarded a plane for Canada. Despite the content of the conversation, your attitudes remained the same — he still tacked a heart onto the last text message you received before your plane rose off the tarmac, and he was still one of the first people you messaged once you had settled into your dorms. Although over the months you fell out of sync and out of contact (at least, in comparison to how you used to be — attached at the hip), you found yourself always thinking of Seungkwan. With your morning coffee, at your evening meal, on a walk to campus; your first love was in everything you did, and it took weeks for you to fall out of the habit of sending him a picture of every little thing that made you think of him. 

When his name popped up on your screen for FaceTime calls, there was still a heart next to his name. Sometimes you almost slipped up and said you loved him when he bid you goodnight, and instead you would settle for ‘sweet dreams,’ tucking yourself into bed and wrapping your arms around a pillow like you used to do him. 

And in December, when you descended the escalators in the bustling airport, there was still one familiar face you found yourself searching for, the same way you’d found yourself asking him for a ride when there were plenty of other friends with cars you could have contacted. Old habits die hard, you know it the moment you see him and your heart still skips a beat, legs itching to run to him, unseen forces drawing you ever nearer to the only boy you’ve ever loved—

You take a deep breath, smile coolly and wave from the bottom of the escalators to get his attention. His eyes light up for a moment when he sees you, then fade back to their usual sparkle, as if seeing you struck his heart like a match. He waits for you to make your way to him, and yet when you stand directly before him neither of you knows where to put your hands, your eyes, your words.

“Hey,” he says, eventually, dark eyes boring into yours. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” After a moment of deliberation, you both find yourself moving towards each other, your hand leaving the handle of your suitcase hesitantly, blood buzzing to be near him.

The sudden sound of the conveyor belt behind Seungkwan startles you both into stillness, and the both of you revert back to your previous positions, maintaining the distance between you.

“Is it, um— are you still using the purple suitcase?” Seungkwan asks, taking your carry-on from you and wheeling it towards the belt. 

“Yeah,” you say. He nods. The two of you stand side by side, eyes glued to the rotating carousel of luggage, waiting for the suitcase you’ve had since high school to come rolling by. The moment it does, Seungkwan lunges forward to grab it, taking hold of both of your suitcases as you follow him out of the terminal to his car.

Without thinking, you snag the aux cord as Seungkwan pulls out of the garage, but falter as you go to plug your phone in.

“Oh, um, did you want to play anything?” You ask, still holding onto the plug. Seungkwan shakes his head too fast,

“No, no, it’s fine. Go ahead.”

Your newest favorite song fills the car, and you shift your gaze out the window. Watching the bustling streets pass you by, you somehow feel foreign. With Seungkwan sitting beside you, fingers nervously drumming on the steering wheel, all you feel is the heavy weight of the silence, a burden you haven’t shouldered since before the two of you started dating. After a few anxious seconds spent at a red light, you find yourself huffing a breath out through your nose and pressing skip on your phone until you get to a song you know Seungkwan knows.

But even with his humming accompanying the tune, the overbearing awkwardness still speaks volumes. 

December 31

“Are you coming to Seungcheol’s party?” Soonyoung asks. You cradle your phone between your shoulder and ear, shoving your freshly washed clothing into the dryer. You hadn’t thought about how much laundry you’d have to do after being gone for a semester, but you’re glad you have the break to do it. 

“I don’t know,” you say. “Should I?” 

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he isn’t even thinking twice about the one person who gives you pause every second of every minute of every day. 

“We haven’t hung out in forever, Y/N. Come on!”

“Soonyoung…” You shove the dryer door closed and pass your free hand through your hair. “I just— I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“But we’re gonna do the countdown and everything! Josh even promised he’d make us some American food!” 

After a long moment, you let out a sigh.

“Fine.”

“Good! We’ll come get you at 7.”

“We?”

“Bye!”

“Soonyoung—!”

You check the time once you notice he’s hung up, frowning when you realize you only have a little over an hour to get ready but also get your laundry back upstairs before Soonyoung and whoever the hell else comes to drag you to Seungcheol’s.

If you’re honest, you’re not really in the partying spirit. You’re exhausted from cleaning your room and reorganizing all your things, catching up on sleep and readjusting to Korean time. All you want to do is lie around like a rock, but Soonyoung is right — it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your friends. For what it’s worth, you do miss them, but the drive back to your apartment with Seungkwan was a harrowing reminder of the time you’ve been gone and the changes that the passing sands brought. You just aren’t sure you’re ready to face all those changes head-on.

Nonetheless, you don a party-worthy outfit and attempt to put some care into your makeup, though the effort is exhausting enough that by the time you’re done you can’t be bothered to mess around much with your hair. You drag your fingers through it until it looks decent, then shove on a pair of slippers to go get your laundry. As you make your way back up, you think you have half a mind to just wear them to the party — who cares, after all? You’ll probably end up crashing on a couch and getting a ride back from Cheol in the morning. 

Or Seungkwan, a little voice in the back of your mind nags. You kick your apartment door open and then closed behind you, shaking your head to get the thoughts away. It hasn’t even been a week since you’d been home; a week since the evening you forced yourself to change his contact in your phone back to the bland ‘seungkwan’ it had been when you’d first saved his number. Somehow, it’s both too easy and too difficult to think about him; he’s too much and too often in your life and not enough, never enough.

When Soonyoung comes to get you, you realize the ‘we’ he was referring to is just Minghao, Jun, and Chan. You try to convince yourself you aren’t disappointed, but you’ve never been good at lying. Nonetheless, you manage to crack a genuine smile once smushed in the backseat between Jun and Chan, arms and legs all crammed together. As the music rumbles around you and out the cracked-open windows, you promise yourself that tonight, you’re going to have fun. 

By ten minutes to midnight, you’re on your third drink (some fruity, overly sweet concoction courtesy of a tipsy Hansol) and the party is in full swing. Soonyoung has taken charge of the music, all wall-shaking bass and beats that make your body want to move. You’re not much of a dancer, but you’ve got enough alcohol in you that you allow Junhui to pull you into the living room, mimicking his actions and frequently dissolving into fits of laughter when you realize how awkward and gangly your movements are in comparison to the lithe, graceful Chinese boy. Any stumbles simply make you laugh harder, quickly shifting from tipsy territory into drunkenness. The alcohol sloshes around in your half-emptied cup, and you feel suddenly very tired as the current song fades into the next. You make your way to one of the couches, dropping heavily down next to the party’s host and unceremoniously plop your head down on his shoulder. He reaches up to sloppily pat your hair, and you swat the offending strands away from your lips and the places where they stick to the sweat on your face. 

“Yah, Hoshi! Turn the music down, it’s almost midnight!” You cringe at the loudness of Seungcheol’s voice and lift your head from its perch on his shoulder. You run a hand through your hair, smoothing it down. 

“Five!” Joshua calls, emerging from the kitchen with a few of the other partygoers. The TV’s display is now taken up by a large slideshow of numbers. 

“Four!” you yell along with everyone else. Unthinking, your eyes search for the source of one familiar voice—

“Three!”

He’s standing on the opposite side of the room, flanked by Hansol and Seokmin, Soonyoung standing behind the trio with his hands on Hansol’s shoulders, squeezing at each tick of the second hand. Seungkwan’s gaze flits towards you, and for a moment his eyes catch yours and he turns his head. It’s almost purposeful, and you swear you see him turning his body in your direction until Soonyoung yells again, startling both of you. 

“Two!” 

A girl you don’t recognize under the current influence approaches Cheol, pulls him off the couch with a beaming, fond smile. You think you must have seen her before. Or maybe you just recognize that adoring look—

“One!”

It’s rude, you know you shouldn’t stare, but you don’t even realize your eyes are glued to them until the music kicks back up and Seungcheol is pulling away from this girl, only to cradle her in his arms. You press your fingertips to your lips, and suddenly you feel very far away. Just a year ago in this same space you’d stolen Seungkwan’s first kiss of the new year, and now you can’t even get him to properly look in your direction. 

You leave your cup on the coffee table and head for the bathroom, unable to walk straight and yet attempting to remain discreet. 

You don’t feel sick, but you still lower yourself to the ground near the toilet bowl. You close the lid and rest your arms atop it, dropping your face into the pit they create. The fluorescent light above your head buzzes, and the sickly sweet smell of alcohol comes wafting back up into your nose, tears stinging your eyes. 

You tell yourself it’s sweat beading down your cheeks, your chin, falling onto the toilet seat. You tell yourself so even as you watch the mascara-blackened pond grow ever wider within the white plastic valley between your arms. 

Three knocks interrupt the bass dropping out in the living room. 

“Y/N?” A soft voice calls. 

“Hannie?” you reply, voice cracking, breaths heavy. 

“Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“No,” you sniff. You aren’t sure which question you’re answering. There’s a pause, you hear his weight shift momentarily onto one of the creaky floorboards right near the door in the hallway. 

“I’m coming in.” He opens the door just enough for his slender body to slip through, gently lowering himself onto his knees beside you. He reaches over your hunched back to rip a few sheets of toilet paper off the roll, carefully dabbing under your eyes with a corner. You look up to the ceiling as he wipes at the mascara smudged below your lash line. When he throws the paper in the trash, you rock forward, pressing the crown of your head against his collarbone. 

“Tired?” You feel more than hear the words as they rumble up from his chest. You hum in the affirmative, and Jeonghan smooths a hand down along your spine. 

“Okay. Come on. I’ll drive you home.” You realize then that Jeonghan’s breath smells like juice. He helps you up from the floor, your knees aching from the cold tile. He wraps his hand around yours, guiding you as though you’re a child through the crowd, and you find your eyes searching, always searching. 

You catch a glimpse of Seungkwan mid-laugh, eyes shut and head tilted back. Your eyes remain glued to him, and even when he disappears from your field of view the image of him burns behind your eyelids.

“Jeonghan,” you start, watching his hands as he ties his shoes, unable to look away. 

“Hm?”

“Do you think he misses me?” Jeonghan stands up and sighs, running a hand through his hair. Your eyes follow his movement belatedly. He reaches out to smooth your hair down, looking at you with what you think is pity. It feels the same as the way your mother looked at you when you told her Seungkwan ended things. 

“I’m not the person to ask, Y/N. Now, come on.”

“Do you think he still loves me?” you ask as he pulls you out the door by your wrist. “Do you— do you think he ever loved me?” 

You don’t realize you’re crying until Jeonghan sighs your name and pulls the sleeves of his sweater down over his hand, dabbing gently at your cheeks.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” You nod wordlessly, a lump in your throat making it hard to even breathe, let alone tell Jeonghan that home feels far beyond your reach now, just the same as Seungkwan is. That home isn’t home without him, not when you can only fill the lingering dip on the other side of your bed with your spare pillow and dream you hear a heartbeat where you rest your head. 

With that, Jeonghan pulls you out the front door and into the night. If he notices the fresh tear tracks on your cheeks when he sees you to your door, he doesn’t comment on it beyond his lingering hug and the gentle motions of his hand patting down your hair. 

You wipe away your makeup and brush the taste of alcohol off of your teeth, but each time you close your eyes you still see Seungkwan laughing behind your eyes, too far for you to reach.

January 1

More than a physical hangover, you wake up feeling emotionally dehydrated. Beyond that, you just feel plain stupid — you agreed with Seungkwan when he suggested breaking up, so why are you taking this so hard? It’s not even like he was kissing someone else to ring in the new year, you were just getting jealous of the ghost of yourself, a you that you willingly killed off.

There are a few messages waiting for you when you finally manage to reach your phone. One is from Jeonghan urging you to drink plenty of water when you wake up with his usual teasing of your drunkenness, there are a few in the groupchat that are mostly people asking if other partygoers had seen this or that forgotten object, and then beneath all of those is a short thread from Seungkwan. It appears to have come through right after you left the party, and you wish you could say you hesitated before opening it.

< hey, did you leave already? 

< nvm jeonghan said you weren’t feeling well… feel better!

< happy new year, y/n. 

You read the messages over and over, searching for something between the lines. How is it that mere months apart have made Seungkwan into an enigma all over again? You kick your sheets off impatiently and practically jump out of bed, itching to move but with no clear plan in mind. 

Despite the frigid morning air, you find yourself wanting to go out. The streets are nearly deserted, most people sporting hangovers in the comfort of their beds, and you feel drawn to the streets below. 

Your fingers are typing before you really think about what you’re doing.

happy new year! sorry for the late reply. hope you had fun at the party!! >

With the text sent, you shove your phone into your coat pocket and propel yourself out the door, breathing the frosty air in deeply. It’s cold enough that it burns down your throat, but when you exhale you feel cleaner, somehow, than you did before.

One of the many things you missed while studying abroad was your favorite cafe. You’ve been frequenting it since you started attending university, as it’s just around the corner from your complex and on the way to your campus. You wouldn’t say it’s a hole in the wall or hidden gem, because plenty of students frequent it, but it’s generally very laid-back because of its popularity amongst students. The front is all glass, with bar-style seating set up against the windows so you can look out into the sidewalk and dark wood floors that make it feel small in a cozy way. You’ve always been a fan of window seats, so you can look up when an assignment gets to be too much and catch a glimpse of the street, or the sky, and feel a little less overwhelmed and boxed in by life.

You’d taken Seungkwan here on one of your first ‘dates’ — unofficial, back in the early days when you were more acquaintances via mutual friends than friends yourselves, just getting to know each other and toeing the lines of the other’s boundaries. Your relationship blossomed due to a shared class in your major; he needed your help to pass it and you had suggested this cafe as a workspace. You can still remember it, the early-fallen autumn leaves crunching beneath your feet as you walked with him from campus down an already familiar street. Seungkwan had followed you dutifully — he was still so bashful, then, funny but holding himself back from saying too much, looking down more often than he was looking into your eyes. 

You still order the same drink almost every time, something Seungkwan often teased you for once you started dating. The fact that there were all these options and you always chose the same thing, never straying — you simply told him that you knew what you liked, and your obvious flirtation always got a reaction out of him no matter how often you said it. 

The cafe is emptier than usual, so you get your choice of seat; you move immediately to the open barstools with your drink and a muffin for breakfast, settling yourself in to watch the city wake up. You pull your laptop out of your bag, hoping that the familiar space will get you back into the familiar rhythm of work.

Looking up from typing in your password, you let out a scoff. Maybe this place is too familiar, because you swear you see Seungkwan at the crosswalk on the corner, coming this way. How pathetic, really, that you can’t seem to get him out of your mind—

The door opens, a gust of winter wind entering the shop, and as it does you instinctively turn to see who’s entered, heart nearly stopping at the familiar face that greets you.

“Seungkwan,” you say, without really meaning to. You hardly realize you’ve said it aloud until his wide, curious eyes meet yours.

“Y/N!” He chirps, grinning broadly at you. Your heart skips the same beat it always used to, and you can’t help but smile back. The two of you simply continue to stare at each other, wondering what to do about your current situation, and it isn’t until someone slips out the door behind Seungkwan that he finally startles back into action.

“Oh, um — is anyone sitting there?” He asks, nodding towards the barstool beside you. You shake your head, moving your bag off the seat.

“No, feel free.”

“Great, just— I’ll order and be right back,” he says, and you think you must be imagining the slight waver in his voice before he turns towards the counter. You force yourself to turn back to your work as he orders, willing yourself to stop lingering the way you have been for the past twelve hours. After a few minutes, you get so absorbed in your to-do list that you almost forget you have company until you hear the legs of the stool beside you being pulled across the floor, and a glass coming into contact with the counter.

“You still order the same thing?” he asks, a teasing edge to his voice. You take a look at his drink and raise one eyebrow. 

“You’re one to talk,” you reply, “You order that like ninety percent of the time.”

“And the other ten percent of the time, I try new things,” he says, sitting up proudly. You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to your laptop.

“As if anything is new here. We’ve been coming here for, what, two years? You must’ve tried everything on the menu by now.” 

“They have seasonal drinks,” he says, a little less convincingly, bringing his drink up to his lips. You hum noncommittally, unable to keep the smug grin off your face knowing you’ve won this time. Early in the relationship, the two of you had kept score of who got the last word in all your silly non-arguments, usually to determine who was paying for the next date. After a while, the number got too high to keep track of, and you found a better system to pay with. You find that your fingers have come to a standstill hovering over your keyboard, and you reach for your drink in an attempt to return yourself to normalcy. Thankfully, if Seungkwan notices your weird behavior, he doesn’t comment on it.

“So, how was the party after I left? What did I miss?” you ask, keeping your eyes on your screen. You know that if you look too long at Seungkwan it will feel like looking at the sun, and you can’t afford to be blinded right as the semester is beginning. Seungkwan lets out a little groan at your question, leaning heavily onto his elbows.

“Well, other than Mingyu almost ruining the living room carpet because he can’t hold onto a bowl to save his life, nothing.” You can’t help but giggle.

“What was it this time?”

“Salsa,” Seungkwan says, giving you a particularly disbelieving look. For a moment you hold his gaze, trying to mimic it, but it isn’t long before you both burst into laughter. A familiar warmth spreads throughout your whole body, and you feel the tension you’ve been harboring since you boarded the plane back to Korea finally slip off your shoulders. 

“Seungcheol would’ve killed him,” you say, shaking your head as you try to imagine the chaos that would have ensued, but Seungkwan merely purses his lips and takes another sip of his drink before replying.

“No,” he says. “It would’ve been Joshua, Seungcheol was too busy with his new girlfriend.” 

“Oh,” you start, leaning in conspiratorially. “Are they official, now?” Seungkwan lets out another groan, rolling his eyes.

“They would be, if he would actually ask her! He keeps saying he’s too nervous, he’s not sure what she’s going to say, but they’re so obvious about everything.” 

“As expected from Cheol,” you muse, shrugging lightly and sipping on your drink. “Maybe I should have a talk with him.” 

“Maybe we—” By some miracle, you cut yourself off before making your offer. You turn your gaze from Seungkwan so he won’t read the thoughts behind your eyes, stirring the straw in your drink as calmly as you can. 

“Maybe that’ll help. Light a fire under his ass.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan laughs, and you realize with the force of it that he’s already heard the words you didn’t speak, maybe he almost spoke them himself. “Maybe.”

How foolish it would’ve been, you think, how ironic if you’d suggested a double date for Seungcheol when there’s not even a date to invite him to double on. To imply that the two of you would be of any help getting Cheol into a relationship, like you aren’t the poster children for dating disasters right now. Suddenly, the silence of the city irks you, digs under your skin, and all you want is for the espresso machine behind the counter to whir back to life so you have something, anything to distract you. You’ve lost the rhythm with Seungkwan and you know, somehow, as you take a sip of your iced coffee and stare determinedly out the window, you won’t be able to find it again in this conversation. 

A phone buzzes against the countertop. You don’t even bother to turn yours over, as Seungkwan is already picking his up hurriedly. He glanced up at you nervously, free hand already reaching back for his coat where it hangs off the chair. 

“I forgot Hansol wanted to go shopping today,” he explains. You smile coolly, 

“Ah, I see. Don’t let him spend too much.” Seungkwan laughs weakly, watered down as he yanks his coat on in a rush. You remember when every movement was stalled, simply to linger together — 'accidentally' tying a shoelace wrong and undoing the whole thing to tie it all over again, just to hear the other’s teasing remarks for a few more moments before you really have to go — and although the atmosphere was less than comfortable you still feel his absence acutely as he finishes buttoning up his coat. He takes his cup into one hand and pushes the barstool back into place. 

“See you later, Y/N.”

“See you.”

After a few moments, Seungkwan is merely a silhouette in a crowd of others just like him, and you can almost convince yourself you imagined the whole meeting in your head. You glance at your untouched muffin and, after a long moment of losing yourself in your own silence, rip off a large chunk. 

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the sweetness coats your mouth. Your heart aches, hungering for something else which you refuse to name, and you distract yourself with work. 

January 4

Ever since the party, Jeonghan has been checking up on you. Not that he hadn’t before, because he’s always been the mothering type, but his efforts had doubled since you’d had your breakdown. 

The two of you are both particularly avid coffee drinkers, so any time a new cafe is opening you’re often the first in your circle of friends to check it out — the unofficial reviewers. Just such a cafe happened to be opening on the weekend before your classes start up again, and it’s a no-brainer that you’re going.

Saturday rolls around and you make your way to the apartment Jeonghan shares with Seungcheol and Joshua. The way is familiar; before studying abroad you could be found at their apartment almost every weekend, curled up on the couch beside Seungkwan as you all watched some stupid movie. 

Now it’s morning, edging onto the afternoon as you make your way up the stairs of their building. When you knock on the door it’s Seungcheol that greets you, hair still damp from his shower and eyes droopy with sleep. 

“Good morning, Cheol,” you say, ruffling up his hair teasingly. He chuckles and steps aside, shaking his hair out as he lets you into the apartment.

“Jeonghan is still in the shower. Have you had breakfast?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “I’ve been up for hours, unlike all of you.” You shrug your coat off, hanging it by the door as you toe off your shoes. Seungcheol drops himself heavily onto the couch and you follow him, though you sit down less sprawlingly. No sooner do you take a seat than his phone buzzes, and you see his face light up when he reads the notification.

“Is that her?” you ask, shuffling across the couch cushions. “The girl from the party?” Seungcheol’s cheeks redden at such a fast pace that you know you’re right, and you can’t help but laugh. You nudge him with your elbow and then commence poking at his ribs playfully when he lifts his arm in an attempt to push you away.

“Stop,” he whines, trying to push your hands away, but the two of you dissolve into laughter soon enough, flopping back against the cushions. Seungcheol stares wistfully up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh.

“I really like her,” he says, softly. 

“So I’ve heard,” you say. “I hear she likes you, too. Why haven’t you asked her out yet, huh?” Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line and shrugs. You remember that feeling, the constant uncertainty regardless of how much you flirt or how many dates you’ve been on, unofficial or otherwise; the constant nagging feeling and question: do they actually like me? Or is it all in my head?

You pat his shoulder, getting his attention.

“Hey,” you start softly. “Listen, Cheol, you have to take a chance. You’ll regret it if you don’t ask her out. Don’t hold yourself back from happiness, okay? When you overthink things too much, you can end up getting yourself hurt, so just do everyone a favor and stop overthinking this.”

When you finish speaking, you have to clench your jaw tight to keep from getting overly emotional. It’s too much, even though it should have nothing to do with you or Seungkwan, and yet all you can think of is that if the two of you hadn’t thought so far ahead maybe you could still be together. All being cautious had gotten you was heartbreak and an awkward atmosphere you couldn’t shake, never-ending frustration with yourself and everyone around you for no longer knowing how to act or react. 

Before Seungcheol can say anything, or you can start crying, Jeonghan walks into the living area.

“Y/N-ah, you’re early,” he says, walking up behind you and Cheol. He places a hand atop each of your heads and proceeds to ruffle your hair.

“Yah, what is it with you two,” Seungcheol whines, leaning away and swatting Jeonghan’s hand. It only makes him laugh and come around the couch, grabbing at your wrist to pull you off the cushions.

“Come on, let’s go.” You manage to smile at him, though you aren’t sure how. The two of you are barely at the front door before Seungcheol is back on his phone, smiling away.

The two of you are seated at the cafe when you receive the text from Seungcheol that he has a date with the girl on Sunday, and although you manage to smile at the news your coffee and pastries taste far more bitter after that.

January 16

Objectively, of course you should have expected to be invited to Seungkwan’s birthday celebration. After all, your friends are still his friends, so it only makes sense — and yet once you’re actually sitting around the table with everyone in the bar it feels… weird.

Everything looks so similar to last year, except that you’re sitting far away from Seungkwan with Jeonghan by your side. Your ex-boyfriend is lively as ever, having consumed just enough alcohol to make him loud and red in the face, though you know that once this high wears off he’ll go on one of his late night walks to steep in his emotions. In this large a group you had hoped you would feel more comfortable, and yet all you can seem to notice is all the half-pitying looks all your friends keep shooting your way. They look at Seungkwan and then at you and their smiles falter.

You’re the one who leaves first. It’s a Thursday night and you have a morning class; and more than that you just feel awkward. You go to stand outside, even in the bitter cold, because it feels better to actually be alone than to feel isolated at a table full of people. There’s a bench just a ways down, so you take a seat and breathe into your hands to warm them. Still, you don’t want to go home just yet. 

“Y/N.” 

Seungkwan sits down beside you, though his approach is too fast and he ends up sliding along the bench until he knocks pretty forcefully into your side.

“Slow down there,” you laugh, helping him to sit up straight. As you move to take your hands off him, he suddenly takes hold of your fingers, squishing them between his warm palms. He leans in close to you, so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re coming to my recital, right? Next week?” You blink at him, feeling intoxicated off his presence alone. Your head seems to be spinning, and you find yourself unable to get a grip on anything. It takes you a moment to respond, but Seungkwan doesn’t seem to notice, still grinning at you with his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. 

“You want me there?” 

He seems to sober up in an instant at that, brows furrowed at your question.

“Of course. I always want you there.” The words make your heart flutter. You only wish he wasn’t drunk. You muster up a smile, though it feels stiff, and nod.

“Then, I’ll be there.” 

Seungkwan doesn’t let go of your hands, not even when all your friends come pouring out of the bar onto the sidewalk, yelling and calling for the two of you. It isn’t until Seokmin and Soonyoung actually come to scoop him off the bench and into a taxi back to their shared apartment that he lets go. He waves at you, beaming as they pile into the back of a cab, and you wave half-heartedly back.

You stay sitting on the bench until you can barely feel your legs, and then you call a cab. In the morning, you almost think the conversation was all a dream — but your calendar now has ‘Seungkwan’s recital’ listed as an event next Friday. You bury your face in your pillow and try not to cry.

January 20

The weekend passes with almost nothing notable happening. Busywork occupies most of your time, falling back into the routine of classes and the structure of having a class schedule. It takes your mind off of the events from Seungkwan’s birthday, but at night, left to your own devices, you find you have trouble sleeping.

Monday rolls around, and you drag yourself out of bed to your first class of the day at nine in the morning. You spend the time between that and lunch in the library, forcing yourself to focus and get work done — you know if you go back to your apartment you won’t be productive in the slightest, so you stick around campus. 

It’s a little past eleven when you decide to go get lunch. You tend to dislike waiting in lines, so you’ve made it a habit over the years to eat a bit earlier whenever possible; luckily for you, your next class is at half-past eleven, so your schedule is pretty accommodating. Since getting back from your semester abroad, you haven’t actively eaten lunch with anyone. After all, the semester has barely started, and some of your friends are still sorting out their schedules.

Also, they all still look at you in pity, or like they’re worried you’re going to do something reckless. You wish they would just ask you about your time abroad, even if it means answering the same stock questions over and over again. Anything is better than being reminded of the loss you still feel so acutely yourself.

You’re searching the cafeteria for a seat, preferably one where you can listen to music and eat in solitude, when two pairs of excitedly waving hands catch your attention. When you look down the arms extended in the air, you find the familiar faces of Seungkwan’s roommates, Seokmin and Soonyoung. Both of them are beaming at you and wave you over to their table. For a moment you hesitate, but you can’t think of a reason not to join them, so you take the empty seat beside Soonyoung and across from Seungkwan. 

The two greet you loudly, as per usual. Seungkwan murmurs a greeting when he swallows his food, then stuffs his mouth full again before you can even respond. As you begin eating your own food, you can't help but wonder what Seungkwan is thinking. It's obvious to you he's nervous, but about what you aren't sure. You have a sinking feeling it's you. Maybe him asking you to come to his recital was just drunken antics after all, since he doesn't seem to want you at his lunch table. 

His own nervousness only makes you more nervous than you had been. It makes you feel like an intruder. While Soonyoung and Seokmin chatter away in their usual excited way, speaking almost nonstop, seemingly oblivious to the wall of silence beside them. One chews while the other replies and so it goes on — Seungkwan pushes his food around a bit awkwardly and you stuff your mouth hurriedly. You can't think of a single thing to contribute to the conversation, only what excuse you're going to use to get out of the situation. Your next class isn't for another fifteen minutes at least, but you're finding you'd rather spend that time in some hallway than at this table where you aren't wanted. 

Between bites you cast glances at Seungkwan, uncertain as to whether you want him to meet your gaze or not. You miss having him look at you, but even if he looks to you now you know it won't be the same. Somehow you're always feeling as awkward as you did at the airport that day. Since the moment you stepped back onto Korean soil, you feel as though you’ve been tripping over every obstacle life has given you in a struggle to catch up with everyone and everything you left behind for that semester. Especially Seungkwan.

It feels like you’ve been doing and saying the wrong things to him ever since you broke up, and distance made your heart grow fonder but it also made you two just different enough to not be able to talk normally now. You wonder, when you look at him, what’s causing the bags under his eyes to darken; what his day-to-day looks like now that you aren’t actively in it… 

As you stuff the last bite of food in your mouth, your phone buzzes. You tear your eyes away from Seungkwan, turning it over to find a message of no significance — just a banner notification for an app. Nonetheless you find yourself pushing out your chair.

“Sorry guys, I have to get going now. Thanks for letting me sit with you.” Soonyoung and Seokmin seem startled to find you still there, having been so caught up in their own discussion. Seungkwan’s gaze flicks up to you, a slight frown curling the corners of his mouth.

“Sure thing, Y/N,” Soonyoung says, nodding his head. 

“We’ll see you Friday?” Seokmin asks hopefully as you lift your tray off the table. You pause, glancing towards Seungkwan only for him to avert his gaze back to his food. Nervously, you chew on your bottom lip for a moment as you nod, thinking of the calendar event on your phone. 

“Yeah,” you reply, softly. “See you Friday.” Unable to bear the awkwardness for a second longer, you turn on your heel and speed walk out of the cafeteria, not slowing down until you reach the building where your next class is. 

For possibly the first and only time in your life, you almost wish Friday wouldn’t come at all.

January 24

For the rest of the week leading up to Seungkwan’s recital, you go back and forth on whether you’re actually going to attend. A part of you thinks that with alcohol came honesty, and he really wants you there — but there’s always that nagging feeling. 

And then Seungcheol turns your own words on you the day of, when you’re at his apartment and talking to Jeonghan while he chooses an outfit about how you aren’t sure you should go. You want to, because you always want to hear Seungkwan sing, but you aren’t sure if it would be right. If you would be welcomed.

Seungcheol walks in, needing help buttoning the cuff of his shirt, and as you do so he looks down at you with a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, and you look up. “Remember that thing you said about overthinking leading to pain?” 

“Yeah.” Seungcheol raises his eyebrows, looking at you pointedly, and you drop your hands into your lap once you’ve finished with the buttons. You avert your gaze, plucking at the fabric of your tights. “Point taken.”

“You should really talk to him about this, Y/N-ah,” Jeonghan says, meeting your gaze through the mirror. You press your lips together, biting at them nervously. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking back at his own reflection.

“Listen, you know I love you,” he continues. “But you can’t go on like this. And, frankly, I don’t know how to help you anymore.”

“I know…”

“He’ll hear you out,” Joshua suddenly chimes in, coming to lean on the doorframe. You frown and shift awkwardly where you’re perched on the edge of Jeonghan’s bed. 

“I know,” you repeat, voice smaller. You can feel your throat closing up, chest tightening and eyes pricking with tears.

“Don’t cry,” Seungcheol says, and suddenly all three men are enveloping you in a hug, making it hard for you to even breathe.

“I love you guys,” you sniffle, “But I’m going to get makeup all over your shirts.” They back off at that.

“So, you’re coming with us?” Joshua asks, as Jeonghan reaches out to fix your hair. You nod.

“You’re right. I told him I’d go, and we do need to talk, so… yeah.” 

You steal the passenger’s seat from Seungcheol so that you get to control the radio, and also because Jeonghan is your designated emotional security friend and even the backseat feels far enough to make you anxious. You’re pretty sure if you weren’t sitting beside him you’d ditch out the car and run back home, because Joshua wouldn’t be quick enough to stop you. For the whole ride you fiddle with the radio, switching the station almost ceaselessly even though the drive is less than twenty minutes. Nothing sounds good to you, everything little more than a constant buzz in your ears as your thoughts continue to run rampant. 

“Y/N,” someone says. It sounds very far away. “Y/N.” The added forcefulness behind the voice finally gets you to snap out of it. The three men are standing outside the car, Seungcheol holding your door open and leaning towards you. All their brows are creased in worry, and you offer a smile which you hope is reassuring but feels shaky even to you.

“Ah,” you say, unbuckling yourself. “Thanks, Cheol.” Once you’re out of the car, however, you all simply stand together, awkwardly clumped by the front of the car. Seungcheol closes the door behind you, and while you look at the auditorium ahead your companions all look at you, still concerned. You take a deep breath in through your nose and blow it out slowly through your mouth. Lifting your chin, you nod.

“Let’s go.”

Your other friends have saved the rest of the front left row for all of you, and so you slip into the seat nearest the aisle you can get in case you have a spontaneous breakdown. The program lists Seungkwan’s solo as the second to last performance out of the dozen in the evening, with the final being a full choir piece. The only person closer to the aisle is Soonyoung, who flashes you a smile when you sit down. 

“Y/N-ah!” He chirps, though attempting to keep his voice low in such a setting. “How have you been? We’ve barely talked you since you got back.” Hoshi’s grin slips into an exaggerated pout, and you let out an apologetic sigh.

“Sorry, Hoshi-ah,” you say, patting his arm. “I’ve… I’ve been better, and I’ve been worse, you know?” Soonyoung peers down at you sympathetically, placing his free hand atop yours and squeezing it in reassurance. You can tell from his gaze that he knows the true reason behind your inability to settle recently, why you’ve been out of the picture for your long-time group of friends. 

“I know,” he replies, voice dropping low. His gaze also falls, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Of course he would know, given his proximity to the situation. You can’t help but wonder just what he’s been seeing, what’s been occurring, on the other side of the situation. You nearly open your mouth to ask just that, heart pounding against your ribs, but the dimming of the lights keeps you silent.

Your hand remains on Soonyoung’s arm until the end of the first song, when you finally relax enough to not need emotional support in the form of physical contact. Seungkwan appears in multiple performances, and you feel refreshed hearing his voice. It feels as though it’s been years since you heard him sing, and you only realize now how much you had taken it for granted in the past. 

Seungkwan’s solo arrives quicker than you had thought, and it leaves you breathless. Even before your semester abroad he had been preparing endlessly, always worrying over every last detail of his performance. You’d bought him a throat soothing tea for his birthday, along with some organic cough drops. His practices had always sounded wonderful to you, but hearing it now, on-stage and polished, it’s possibly the best thing you’ve ever heard. It moves you to tears, though you hold yourself back from crying fully, not wanting to be disruptive to anyone else in the audience. 

By the end of the concert you’ve eased yourself off the brink of tears, though only to find yourself overcome by another emotion entirely: anxiety. Your heartbeat is loud enough to nearly block out the raucous applause as you stand. Soonyoung pats you on the back before resuming his own round of applause. 

All you can think of now that the recital is over is that you should have rehearsed something to say to Seungkwan. Seeing him on stage, practically shining in his brilliance, makes you all the more aware of what a wreck you seem to be. Your hands won’t stop shaking, your breathing shallow. As your friends swarm the edge of the stage, beckoning Seungkwan down into their arms, you find yourself falling back to the edges of the group, wringing your hands. The others are rowdy enough to make up for your absence while you try to arrange your thoughts. 

Caught up in your thoughts, however, you don’t notice Seungkwan’s eyes on you. You don’t notice him approaching, your friends parting ways for him to get to you. Your eyes remain cast down as you turn slightly away, still lacing your fingers together nervously.

“Y/N.” His voice is soft, yet it cuts through the din without obstruction straight to you, piercing your heart like an arrow. As you turn to him it feels as though you’re the only two in the room, Seungkwan’s shining face your only company, the sole captor of your attention.

“Seungkwan,” you say. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t bring you any flowers. Slipped my mind.” You lick your lips nervously, casting your gaze downwards. Meeting Seungkwan’s eyes feels like a Herculean effort — at least, meeting them without crying. 

“You were amazing,” you continue, more softly. “Not that anyone was doubting, of course.” At that you finally manage to smile at him, though it’s uncertain. You can’t contain your pride, even if your relationship isn’t the same as it once was; watching him grow in his talent and confidence has been one of the greatest gifts in your life, you’re certain.

“Thank you. That means a lot.” Seungkwan shifts his weight from one foot to another, “Can we talk?”

“S-sure.”

“Outside?” You can only manage to nod, feeling unable to speak. You follow him down the aisle and out the doors, coming to stand near him by the corner of the building. The sun has set, leaving only the yellowy glow of the streetlights to illuminate Seungkwan’s features, turning his eyes to a warmer, molten brown. For a long moment he just stares at you, seemingly soaking in your presence, and you find your cheeks warming beneath his gaze. When you look away, he finally clears his throat and begins speaking.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “Again. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” Your heart skips a beat when you realize that he does remember inviting you here. That he did it on purpose, not just on drunken impulse. The thought alone is enough to make your heart feel unbelievably warm. 

“Of course,” you reply, unable to keep from smiling. “I’m really proud of you, you know?” At your statement Seungkwan, too, starts smiling. It’s a sight you hadn’t realized you missed so acutely, the way his eyes light up as he’s looking at you. Although the atmosphere is still awkward, it feels far more natural than your previous encounters since you’ve been back.

“Right,” Seungkwan seems to snap himself out of it, shaking his head slightly. He rocks back on his heels a bit, a nervous habit. “I, um, I wanted to tell you something. Just… I’m not sure what to say.”

“The Boo Seungkwan, at a loss for words? I’m shocked.” Your lighthearted comment is delivered without your usual confidence; you feel a bit lightheaded to be honest, overwhelmed by anticipation and your own desire to say something.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It’s going to sound really selfish of me—” Your heart drops, and you think it’s a miracle your knees don’t give out. Somehow, it feels like he’s about to break things off for a second time, except what is there to break off? Your barely-there friendship? You’re so caught up in your own thoughts you nearly miss the rest of his statement.

“—I want us to get back together.”

Only silence follows. Seungkwan is staring at you and you feel as though you’re staring through him. You can’t even be certain you’re breathing for a moment, and you wonder if you heard him right.

“What?” It’s a miracle he even hears you, given how quietly you speak. Hesitant, but obviously a bit concerned by your dazed appearance, he closes the gap between you with a step, taking your hands in his. It feels so natural, and yet both of you are staring at your hands as though they’re foreign objects. 

“Having you here made me realize that I don’t want to share these momentswith anyone else,” he says, slowly, carefully. “The whole crowd is meaningless if you aren’t in it… I want to make you proud. I want to share my accomplishments with you…” You lift your gaze at the tell-tale waver of his voice, squinting in the dim light.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he warbles, and you slip your hands from his with a sympathetic chuckle, cupping his face in your hands. You brush away the tears with your thumbs, smiling wistfully at him. 

“Are you sure about this?” you ask, still holding his face in your hands. You’re reluctant to let go, in case this is the last time you get to hold him like this. He nods, swallowing hard.

“I know it was my idea to break up,” he replies. “But I regret it. I’ve been regretting it. I thought maybe you did, too, but I didn’t want you to feel pressured…”

“You’ve never made me feel that way,” you murmur. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Seungkwan. If you want me by your side, I’ll always be there.” 

You hardly have time to react when Seungkwan is suddenly kissing you, his hands reaching around your waist to pull you closer to him. You melt into his welcome embrace, quickly falling back into the familiarity of Seungkwan, winding your arms around his neck. It feels more like coming home than any plane ride ever could have — like you could have been anywhere at all and just being in Seungkwan’s arms would make it comfortable, familiar for you. He pulls away only to press his forehead against yours, cheeks burning bright red and lips curved into a broad smile. 

“Finally.” Both you and Seungkwan startle, pulling away just enough to look towards the auditorium. All twelve of your friends are clustered around the base of the stairs; it appears to have been Minghao who had spoken. Before either of you can reply, he turns his sharp gaze to Soonyoung, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Looks like you’re paying for dinner tonight.” At his words, Soonyoung looks exaggeratedly dismayed, whining to him in annoyance. Everyone else, however, comes to crowd around the two of you. Jeonghan drapes an arm around each of you, grinning cheekily.

“No more hasty breakups then, right kids?” 

“Yah, why are you bringing that up now?” Seungkwan complains, shrugging Jeonghan off both of you. He takes your hand as he continues to bicker with Jeonghan, who smiles serenely all the while as your massive group begins walking to the nearest barbecue restaurant. As you glance down at your hand in Seungkwan’s where they gently swing as you walk, listening to the familiar banter of your boyfriend and best friend against the background of all your other friends around you on the sidewalk, you can’t keep the smile off your face.

After weeks, you finally feel like you’ve come home. 

TATMILB, CHAPTER 3

Penelope spent her life writing love letters, which didn’t seem like a terrible idea until the letters were mailed out and Schneider received one of them. Hoping to fool their exes, they agree to fake a relationship. But are they lying to everyone around them, or to themselves? aka my To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before-inspired AU.

Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. available on ao3 with extra author’s notes.

Chapter 3: Penelope tries to bond with Alex during movie night; he and Lydia bring the family’s donations to Goodwill. Schneider returns from vacation and confronts Penelope. She panics.

While Schneider was away with Nikki over the weekend, Penelope splurged on a trip to the movies--luring Alex with the promise of food he didn’t have to sneak in.

She was trying to focus on silver linings instead of her anxieties about Elena, and the upsides included her new availability for Alex. Twice as much parent to go around could only lead to more bonding, right?

He had lobbied for an R-rated comedy, which she was definitely not willing to pay for. On her own, she would’ve headed right for the newest Bradley Cooper drama, but no amount of chocolate could convince Alex to sit through that.

So they compromised on an action movie--which would have the added benefit of covering up the sound of her soda later. Agreeing to buy concessions for Alex didn’t make her a different person. Her discount snacks were better than their overpriced junk, anyway.

He grinned at her over his bucket of popcorn while they waited for the lights to go down, and she considered her bribery a success. See, she could be the cool mom. Even if she had Raisinets in her cargo pants.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still miss Max?”

Where did that come from? The question hurt, mostly because it was so unexpected. With Max exiting her life right before Lydia’s stroke, neither Alex or Elena had mentioned him much in the last year. They’d all had other things on their minds.

She let the pain pass by before she answered.

“Yes, Papito, I still do. It’s hard to let go of people you love. Sometimes, a part of you misses them even after you’ve moved on.”

He nodded, sipping his soda.

“Do you think you’ll start dating again anytime soon?”

That question was even more out of character for her son, whose world had been so often self-centered since he first came into it.

Penelope narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my dating life?”

“I was just wondering.”

”Well, I’m having fun the way things are. You and me, catching a movie on a Friday night, mother and son time with Elena away. Why would I want to date when I could be doing this?”

She grabbed a handful of popcorn and caught the way he cringed. Or flinched. Whatever it was, there was guilt there. Her mom radar went up.

“Alex, what is it? Is something going on?”

“It’s nothing!” He assured her in a rush. “It’s just...I kind of--did have a date.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. You wanted to go out together, so I rain checked it with Chloe for next weekend. But I mean, let’s be real, Mom. This can’t last forever. I’ll go off to college too, or modeling school, whatever, and then who will you hang out with?”

The trailers started playing, just in time, letting her wallow until the movie started.

Penelope couldn’t keep the sadness off her face as she watched Alex settle in with his snacks. He was growing up so fast on her. Too fast. And Elena was practically out of the house already.

She didn’t want to date just to avoid being alone, but hearing that concern from her teenage son? Ouch. So much for being the cool mom.

Now Penelope was glad that they’d picked an action flick. She was ready to watch some stuff blow up.

****

Alex emerged from his room the next morning waving his phone at her.

“Mom, that was the third text I’ve gotten from Elena since she left reminding us to take that stuff to Goodwill.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Penelope replied. 

She was almost out the door, but her son had the luxury of sleeping in on Saturdays until baseball season started. He was taking full advantage of it.

“Seriously, she woke me up--and I need my beauty rest. She’s not gonna stop bugging me until you drop it off.”

“Alex...” Penelope shrugged into her coat, kissing her Mami on the cheek in thanks for the quick cafecito she had substituted for breakfast. “It’s all boxed up, we finished it before she left; it’ll get there.”

“I’m just saying, she’s gonna start texting you next, and I don’t think you’ll enjoy the lectures any more than I do.”

“Well, I’ve got plans with Jill today--and I’m about to be late. Mami?” She raised hopeful eyebrows in Lydia’s direction.

“Hmm?”

“Can you go with Alex to the Goodwill donation dropoff? I won’t be back until dinner.”

“Si, Lupita. Go have fun with your friend, we will handle it.” 

“Great. Thanks. The things I’m getting rid of are in my room, next to the closet.”

“You know, this would be much easier if Schneider had not taken his girlfriend on a vacation.” Lydia frowned. “He could carry much bigger boxes than myself or Papito.”

“Hey, I can lift heavy stuff,” Alex protested. 

“Yes, but you should not have to! You should save your strength for wooing your future wife.” Lydia patted his face.

“Luckily for us--and Alex’s future wife--none of the boxes are all that heavy,” Penelope said. “And there aren’t too many of them. Now, I really have to go. I’ll see you both tonight.”

****

Absorbed in work and school, Penelope didn’t give their Goodwill donations another thought until Tuesday, on her way out of the hospital. The two boxes she’d packed in her room were gone, concluding that chore.

Or so she thought.

Penelope was  digging in her purse for her keys when she saw Schneider striding her way. “Oh, hey! I thought you were gonna be off the grid with Nikki for another couple of days.”

“No, that trip is kind of...over. That whole thing is kind of over.” 

“Again?”

Hurt crossed Schneider’s face before he buried it. He was really good at that, she’d learned--mostly from moments when she was the one hurting him. Way to go, Penelope. 

“I mean, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Eh, I will be. Eventually. It’s not like we were engaged, right?”

Schneider shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here, though. Nikki may have dumped me for one of the jock dads at St. Bibiana’s, but that doesn’t mean I think you and I should blur the lines on the rebound.”

She stared at the creased blue paper he held up as he continued.

“Not that I’m not flattered, obviously. You’re the most badass woman I know, an amazing mom, anybody would be lucky to--”

Penelope’s field of vision narrowed to the letter in his hand, a letter that she definitely recognized. She didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. She could only hear her heart pounding in her ears, making her wonder if she was about to pass out there, next to her car.

How did Schneider get that? What was happening right now?

“I found it slipped under my door when I got home. And honestly, Pen, if you needed to tell me this stuff, you could have just done it in person--we’ve had enough late night chats that nothing’s really off limits at this point.”

She took a deep breath, trying to focus on a technique that worked for her during panic attacks and after nightmares. Since the moment felt like an actual waking nightmare, slowly counting backwards didn’t help much. He was still there. Waiting.

“Schneider, that letter--it’s not what it looks like, I swear. I don’t want to date you. At all. I wrote it because...”

She was still trying to find the words to explain something much too complicated for a parking lot when she saw motion past Schneider’s left shoulder.

Max was exiting the hospital and heading straight for them, holding a bright white envelope in one hand.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was coming over to say.

Which was good, because Penelope’s mind was not exactly in top condition. It was already a five-alarm fire up in there, and every part of her was screaming I cannot deal with this.

In the fraction of a second she had to consider her options, Penelope acknowledged that the mature response would be to face it now--to explain the situation to her ex-boyfriend and her best friend at the same time.

Or, she decided, as she felt both men’s eyes on her and her palms started to sweat...she could do literally anything else.

Going with her first impulse, Penelope reached up and grabbed Schneider’s shirt with both hands, pulling him toward her. Before Max could get one step closer, she kissed Schneider like her life depended on it.

She couldn’t have explained to anybody why kissing Schneider seemed like a better idea than letting Max think she was still pining over him. Right then, she just needed Max to stay back. To leave them alone. 

Did it work? She wondered. She couldn’t check without breaking off the kiss, but the silence seemed promising.

Of course, the quiet only emphasized the situation she was now in. She was kissing Schneider. She was in a hospital parking lot, a few yards away from her ex-boyfriend, kissing Schneider. 

Pressed against her, Schneider didn’t react. Not after the initial moment, or several more. He let her kiss him, but he didn’t kiss back. And that was fine, Penelope told herself. That was better.

“Thank you,” she said when she let Schneider go. He stood there, flushed and baffled, looking at her like he had never seen her before. 

Though confusion was written all over his face, Schneider nodded. “You’re...welcome?”

Penelope wasn’t willing to push her luck any further. She couldn’t avoid the embarrassment forever, but at least she had managed to postpone it until she got home. She needed time to figure this out.

Without another word, and without glancing back to where Max was probably still holding his own letter, she got into her car and drove home.

****

Her reprieve was brief, not that she’d expected any different. She caught the aroma of dinner as soon as she walked through the door, and barely had time to praise her Mami’s cooking before Schneider arrived.

“Oh, good, Schneider, you are home from your vacación,” Lydia said. “I made enough for you to join us, just in case.”

“Hey,” Alex added from his spot at the table. “You’re back early, right?”

“Yeah, Nikki and I broke up.”

Schneider offered that explanation to Alex, but he was looking at Penelope. She shook her head in response, hoping the tiny movement would go unnoticed by the others. Hoping that Schneider would understand. Not now. Not in front of the family. Please.

His shoulders tensed where he stood, like her silent plea was a blow he had to absorb. But when he finally looked away from her, smiling at Lydia and taking his seat, Penelope knew he would let it go for now. “So you can see why I needed a nice, comforting family dinner this evening.”

“Oh, pobrecito Schneider,” Lydia said, patting his back before she sat down across from him. “You can do better.”

They were waiting for her to settle into her place at the table, but Penelope couldn’t join them until she knew for sure. She headed for her bedroom, straight to the spot where her army duffel would be. 

Or where it used to be.

“Mami?” She returned to the table and sat, trying to sound calm. “What happened to my duffel bag?”

“I don’t know,” Lydia said, pouring herself some rum as though her daughter’s world wasn’t spinning out of control in front of her. “Where did you see it last?”

“I keep it in my closet,” Penelope snapped back. “It’s been there for years. Where did I see it last,” she added in a mutter.

“You do not need to take that tone with me,” her Mami scolded her. “I did not touch your ratty old bag. I do not know where it is.”

“Well, I know I didn’t move it, and it’s gone. So can anybody explain to me how it up and disappeared?”

Lydia thought it over. “I suppose...if it was in your closet...it might be at the Goodwill.”

She clamped down even harder on her temper. “Why would it be at the Goodwill?” 

“As I said, Lupita, I have done nothing wrong. But your boxes were next to the closet. So if it is missing, that may be why.”

“It was just an old duffel bag, right, Mom?” Alex was halfway through his dinner, but he couldn’t ignore the tension in the room. “You can get a new one.”

“Not everything’s replaceable, Alex. That old bag had a lot of memories attached.” She picked up her fork and tried to focus on her food while her mind reeled. It also had five incredibly personal love letters tucked into the inside pocket. Letters she’d never wanted their subjects to read.

Now Max knew she never got over him, and wanted him back. God, after more than a year, how pathetic he must think she was. 

And that didn’t begin to address the other letters. How long until those came back to haunt her, too? What about the man currently watching her while he ate, pretending that he wasn’t? How could she possibly explain any of this to Schneider?

She stabbed at her salad, lost in thought until she was done eating. 

Worried she might snap at him next, even Schneider was quiet during the meal. The scraping of utensils against dishes filled the silence until Penelope cleared her plate and went to her bedroom.

Schneider swallowed loudly after Penelope left, but didn’t offer up his usual attempts to paper over the unease that lingered behind her. 

Instead it was Lydia who broke the silence. “Lupe hasn’t used any of her old bags in years. I do not understand why she is so upset about this one.”

“Maybe she’s going through menopause,” Alex offered up.

Schneider’s fork clattered loudly onto his plate. 

Lydia shook her head. “No, that can’t be the problem, Papito. She is far too young.”

“It can start between the ages of 40 and 50,” Alex argued, ignoring the way Schneider was gaping at him. “Mom’s just inside the window.”

“This is very inappropriate talk,” Lydia scolded him, standing up to clear the rest of the plates.

“Elena wouldn’t stop lecturing me about it, okay? She wanted me to be ready when it happened in case she was moved out already. You know how she never shuts up.”

Schneider left Alex sitting alone to go find Penelope--normally she would be back out with the family after dinner, but if she was going to try this hard to avoid him, she wasn’t giving him much choice. 

With Lydia at the sink and Alex’s face in his phone already, Schneider doubted the others would even notice him gone. 

He tapped lightly on her door. “Penelope?” 

The long silence wasn’t comforting, but eventually he heard a quiet “Come in” and let himself in. 

“Hey,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “You know, Max seemed just as confused as me, back at the hospital. He just sort of stared at me, once you drove off, for the longest five seconds in history, and then he left without saying anything.”

“Yeah?” Penelope was looking at the floor more than him, but he could tell she was listening.

“Yeah. I think he wanted to talk to you too. Which made me even more confused. What’s going on?”

A brisk rap on the door sounded before it opened--not giving either of them time to respond. 

“Mami.”

“It’s time for dessert,” Lydia told them. “What are you two doing in here?”

Penelope ignored the gossipy insinuation in her tone--she knew better than anyone that it was her Mami’s way of hoping something interesting was about to happen, whether it actually was or not. “We were talking about dessert, actually. I was asking Schneider if he wanted to go with me to get ice cream.”

She raised her eyebrows, hoping he would follow her lead. “What do you say? Dessert run?”

Whatever he was thinking, or feeling, Schneider kept it to himself. “Sure, Pen. Sounds good. My treat.”

“Oh, Schneider, you are such a generous man,” Lydia told him with a hand on his arm--laying it on a little thick even by her usual standards. 

“Mami, calm down. It’s ice cream, not new shoes.”

“Lydia, did you want new shoes?” Schneider perked up, and Penelope grabbed him by the arm to pull him past her mom before they could get any ideas. 

“She doesn’t need you to buy her shoes. Let’s go.”

Penelope rushed him to the door with one hand on his back, nudging him forward as she opened it.

She was in such a hurry, she almost shoved him directly into Ben--who was standing on the other side, hand raised to knock. 

“Oh, hey, Penelope. Is this a bad time?”

🌸💋 🎭 💦 and  ✨ (crush headcanons! How would he act around and try to win someone he's interested in over? 😋) for javier, if that would be okay? Congratulations on 400 followers! Give your doggos some bellyrubs from me!! ♥

my girls thank u for the tum rubs, cadillac demanded my absolute attention for the next 5 minutes. shaybo ignored me & went back to sleep (also thats a frickin cute-ass HC idea)

🌸 Kissing HC

Javier is an affectionate sort of man and sees no shame in expressing his love openly. So you can expect quick pecks as you pass each other by, sweet kisses by the fire and deep goodbye kisses before he has to leave before a job.

When he returns from being gone for a while, his first thought is to beeline for you, hold you close and capture your lips to express how much he missed you. At least he keeps to himself when you both are on a job ... mostly.

He always has to joke about a “good luck” kiss before or during a job, which just makes you smile. 

When you’re curled up with Javier next to a fire, he likes to brush your hair aside and kiss along your neck and collarbone, just to make you giggle. Nope, there is no shame. You end up snuggling closer and sharing several long, lazy kisses.

Yes, you’ll be told to find a room, multiple times. Javier just smirks and pulls you closer.

Besides your pretty lips, his favorite places are your collarbone and your soft thighs. He’s not one to leave marks unless he’s feeling very passionate and you’re encouraging him. For himself, he really likes it when you kiss his neck. 

He’ll definitely sneak up behind you while you’re working on something and give you light, lazy kisses. If he’s tired enough he’ll rest his head on your shoulder and keep you there.

💋 Intimacy HC

Javier loves being close and intimate with you. He feels like it’s the most natural, fulfilling way to express love to each other. So unless he’s dead-ass passed out, if you want him, Javier’s game. His sex drive is definitely high, although he thinks it’s perfectly reasonable. 

Almost anything you do can turn him on, because he loves admiring you. Brushing your hair aside, dressing, doing something creative, handling a gun, and so on. Arthur likes to walk by and tease him for his mooning. 

He prefers to take his time than indulge in quickies. He wants to touch and kiss every bit of your skin as he undresses you, and gives you plenty of praise as he does so, to make sure you’re flustered. He actually has something of a praise and worship kink.

He prefers positions where he can see your face and hold you close, but he’s open to whatever, really. You’re going to get kissed and groped either way.

When Javier starts getting lost in your body, he’ll nuzzle you and mutter endearments and more praises in Spanish. If you respond back he totally melts. When he’s close, he gets loud, not that he cares who hears. Feel free to kiss him to shut him up, he loves that.

If you’re feeling tired or need some comfort, he’s totally happy to hold you in his arms and just slowly finger you while you get plenty of kisses. He doesn’t even have to get himself off, he just wants to make you feel good (also he loves your whimpers). 

He is so bad about exploiting your sensitive spots. He doesn’t even have an overstimulation kink, it’s just fun to watch you squeal and worm away. 

Afterward, Javier is a gentleman and makes sure you’re cozy. He wants to cuddle until you both fall asleep but you remind him that, you know, you both should probs put on at least a shirt and pants before you freeze to death. He doesn’t care to sleep with heavy blankets but he’ll cover you up and make sure you’re nice and bundled before the cuddling resumes. There is no escape

🎭 Jealousy HC

Similar to Charles, Javier doesn’t have much a possessive streak, he just hates men disrespecting you. His mama didn’t raise him to stand by while his love is being talked down to and disrespected. 

He’ll slid up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and brandishing his favorite knife as he asks the man exactly what his intentions are. He’s smiling, but angling the knife so it gleams.

Sometimes he’s in more of a hot-headed mood, and he’ll go straight to a fight if someone puts a hand on you or starts getting in your face. Javier got no patience for that.

It’s obvious you both are together, so anyone in the gang flirting with you is probably just messing around, and he’ll joke back about them stealing you away. But if someone is really pushing it, he doesn’t care if they’re drunk or “messing” around. Javier sits up, stares right at them and tells them to leave you be.

He really doesn’t like you trying to get him jealous, it hurts more than he’d admit. He feels like he expresses his love enough, so there’s no need to play these silly games.

💦 Beach HC

Thank god for some decent warm weather and a beautiful sea. He could die right here in your arms and be a happy man. It’s adorable how much Javier’s eyes glitter when he sees the water, he looks 10 years younger as he pulls you toward the water.

Javier is ready to strip to nothing, but he underestimated the hot sand, so he sticks to pants. He’s totally cool with you wearing nothing though.

He can’t decide if he wants to swim around with you, sit on the beach and enjoy the waves or go after the fish hanging around in the shallows. He alternates between the three, with you joining him and laughing at how excited he gets over finding a a crab or digging up a large shell.

You better watch out, he’ll grab your ankle out of nowhere to pull you under the water. Or he’ll carry you to the deep end and pretend to dunk you. He really enjoys carrying and piggybacking you around in the water. If you can’t swim, Javier is very careful with you and never brings you too deep.

Javier could stay at the beach until the sun begins to set. He’ll catch some fish and roast them over a fire with you while you rest against him. You two just know you’re going to be finding sand in your clothes and equipment for a week, but he doesn’t care at all. 

When you start to doze off, he’ll cover you up and pet your hair as the sun sinks down. Now he can die a happy man.

✨ Crush HC

So, his crush comes on fairly quick and it’s so obvious to everyone and yourself. He can’t help but watch you when you watch by, he’s always grinning and winking at you, he likes hanging around and asking what you’re up to. 

The flirting and charm is cute, but you figured he’d get bored after a while. He was probably only interested because you were pretty and new. Which, that was true, but he was also curious. He started to strike up conversations and ask you about yourself, and he was glad when you were curious about him, too. 

He’ll still wink at you as he plays guitar, but then he’ll nod at you to sit next to him. He’ll crack jokes to hear you laugh, he’ll help you carry things and compliment you whenever you’re wearing something new. His typical “flirting” went straight into “hopeless crush” territory.

You two did dance around each other a little, but Javier isn’t the type of man to go pining for months over someone. All it’ll take is you leaning in and smiling sweetly while he talks, and he can’t help himself from touching your chin and kissing you. 

𝔼𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 ℝ𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕦𝕖

002: y/n is dating Mick and becomes jealous when one of Mick’s fans start to flirt with him after a show.

“Goodnight, everybody! Thank you!” Mick yells into his microphone and waves to the crowd before walking off the stage to meet you. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and you could see the sweat that covered his body. But that didn’t stop you from walking straight into his arms, which were held out and waiting for you.

“How’d I do? Did I impress my lovely girlfriend?” Mick questions. He lifts you up and holds you with one hand on your back and the other under your bum.

You keep your arms wrapped his neck and rest your head on his shoulders. “Mhm,” you hum. “You always do.” Mick has been your boyfriend for the past four years, and you still find yourself in awe with him with each performance. The amount of energy he brings to the stage each night was unimaginable—you could watch him on stage forever.

This is how it always was. Mick plays his show. You watched. Mick finishes up. You congratulate him and spend the rest of the night with him. And this is exactly how you like it.

He kisses your cheek and then pulls you slightly away from his body. “I’ve got to meet some fans outside tonight. They don’t like when I got running off with you every night.” He winks at you as he spoke, allowing the memory of sleeping together last night to come rushing back into your head. “Wish I could, though. If it was up to me, you’d be out of those clothes already.” He gazes down your body with the faintest of smirks, admiring how your skin tight shirt shaped around your curves.

His eyes eventually make their way back up to your face and he smiles a cheesy smile, probably satisfied with the noticeable pink tint on your cheeks. “Well, if that’s what you want...” your thought trails off while you bring one hand up to his face, brushing his damp hair from his face. You now have your own smirk on your face as you see him purse his lips. Obviously, he wanted you right now just as much as you wanted him.

Mick shakes his head. “It’ll have to wait. C’mon out with me. I’ll try to not be long,” he tells me and puts you down back on your own two feet.

You pout your lips at him. “Fine,” you comply. “This is what I get for dating the lead singer of the best rock band ever, huh?” Sarcasm was laced in your voice. You didn’t actually mind waiting for Mick to meet his fans. It is part of his job, after all. And he is always so happy to speak with the people who came to his shows. You love seeing him with a smile on his face.

“Exactly right, y/n.” He holds out his hand for you to grab, and you accept. His big hand gently squeezes your smaller one and you start to walk with him across the stage, which is filled with the band’s stage crew as they clear everything off.

Mick hops down from the six-foot-high stage without thinking twice before turning around to face you, who was still standing on the edge, nervous as could be. Heights were never your thing. “I’ll catch you, don’t worry,” he comforts you, letting out a chuckle.

You nod your head and sit down on the edge of the stage. Mick has his arms out, ready to catch you. You shut your eyes tight and push yourself off, letting out a high pitched squeal as you fell for only a second before he catches you.

“Oh, you’re so dramatic, princess,” Mick laughs at you, but he really did love seeing you fall into his arms. And he especially loved that you trusted him enough to do do.

You hop out of his hold and grab his hand again. “Take that back. Right now, Mick.”

He pecks your nose a couple times. And then your lips. He didn’t want to stop, but he did, knowing if he went any further he wouldn’t be able to hold back. “I will when you stop being dramatic,” he tells you.

//

Together, you walk out the main entrance of the venue where there appears to be around thirty fans. Keith was out here, too. He was talking with a group of girls.

You take a seat on a bench next to the doors and Mick let’s go of your hand. “Thirty minutes, max. Then we’ll be outta here,” he whispers in my ear. You smile and nod your head. You couldn’t wait to have Mick to yourself again. It felt like last night was a hundred years ago.

Mick turns away from you and walks a few feet away, toward some girls who were eagerly waiting to meet him. You watch him talk and sign things for his fans for a while.

Eventually, only two girls remained. One, a slim, bleach blonde, beautiful woman, seems to be extra invested in being around Mick. You always got a little jealous when you watched Mick and his fans, but you could usually push it aside.

This time was different.

This girl was all over your boyfriend and you didn’t like it at all. She is hugging him and kissing his cheek and laughing and moving as close as possible to him. What really bothers you, though, is how Mick wasn’t stopping her. He’s laughing along with her. Going along with her motions.

You roll your eyes and pull out your phone to check the time.

11:49.

It has definitely been more than thirty minutes by now.

You stand up and walk over to Mick, wrapping your arm around his and looking at the girl, who looks back at you with squinted eyes. “Hey, darling,” Mick says to you. He places his hand on your shoulder and rubs is slowly.

“I’m cold, Mick. Let’s go back inside,” you say with a bland voice, not breaking eye contact with the girl in front of you.

“Alright, just give me a few more minutes to talk,” he says. “Go wait inside, doll. I don’t want you freezing.”

“You said thirty minutes, Mick. It’s been like forty-five,” you explain, now looking up at him.

He looks down at you, confused, and furrows his eyebrows. You never really interrupted him and his fans like this before. “Y/n, just a couple minutes. I’ll meet you right inside.”

“But...you must be cold,” you say, helplessly. You just wanted him away from this girl. It was obvious she didn’t have good intentions. You knew that, even if Mick didn’t.

“We’re almost done chatting,” the girl chimes in with her obnoxious, high pitched voice. You’ll be doing Mick a favor getting him away from this girl.

You dart your eyes back down at her and scrunch your face in disgust. “I really wasn’t talking to you. You didn’t have to say anything.” Your voice is sour.

“Y/n!” Mick raises his voice as he says your name. He’s obviously confused and shocked at your sudden rudeness. “Y/n, wait inside. I’ll be in soon, like I said before.”

“But—” you start.

Mick cuts you off before you have a chance to finish. “Head inside,” he whispers in your ear in a deep voice that told you he’s upset.

You were about to protest more, but decide against it. If Mick wants to talk to this girl so badly, then so be it. You shove his arm off of your shoulder and storm off inside the venue.

You walk to the front of the large room and sit with your back leaning against the stage, which was now empty of all crew workers and equipment. The room is dark with only a few dim lights. But that’s good for you. It would make it harder for Mick to see the few tears that spilled from your eyes when he comes back inside.

//

Maybe you are overreacting with this whole situation. You trust Mick enough not to go off with another girl. But, at the same time, you couldn’t help it. You love Mick so much and can’t stand the thought of him being with anyone but you. Even if it was just a fan who he’d never see again.

You don’t know how long you sit in silence for, maybe five or six minutes, but you eventually hear the door open and shut close. Footsteps walk over to you at a slightly faster than normal pace.

“What the hell was that, y/n? Something gotten into you?” Mick’s voice was angry. You stand up and turn away so he can’t see your smeared makeup.

“When will the bus be here?” You ask quietly, hoping the state of your voice doesn’t give it away that you’ve been crying.

“No, we’re not doing this, y/n. You’re not going to ignore me or go on changing the subject. What the hell was wrong with you out there? She was my fan. And I’m hoping she still is after how you spoke to her,” Mick says, the anger and disappointment in you still evident in his voice.

“Nothing is wrong with me,” your voice breaks. If he didn’t know you’ve been crying before, he definitely did now.

Mick doesn’t say anything for a moment. You hear him sigh before putting both his hands on your shoulders. “Look at me,” he demands in a calmer voice.

You shake your head, embarrassed at how emotional you can get. You bring your hands up to your eyes and wipe the new tears that started forming.

He sighs again. “I know you’ve been crying, y/n,” he says. “I’m going to ask you one more time to turn around and face me.” Despite being upset with you, his voice was calm. He has always been better with handling his emotions than you. You sometimes wish you could be a little more like him.

But you weren’t like him. And you don’t turn around like he asked you to.

“Fine,” he says when you stay still.

You feel Mick’s arms wrap around your waist and lift you up. “Put me down, Mick. I don’t want to talk to you,” you argue, squirming around in an attempt to get loose.

“That’s too bad because we’re about to have a long talk,” he says. He turns you around and slides down with his back against the stage. You end up sitting on his lap as he holds your wrists so you can’t escape him. Your legs rest on either side of his body.

The dim lights in the room allowed you to just see Mick’s face. His lips are pursed and his eyebrows were furrowed. He’s still mad. And that meant he can see yours too—he can see your tear stained cheeks. “Tell me what happened out there,” he demands, though his voice is still soft.

“Nothing happened,” you whisper. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You let a few more tears slide down your cheeks and look down, ashamed. You overreacted tonight, you know you did. But you couldn’t help it.

“Well, we’re going to talk about it.” Mick let’s go of your hands and brings one up to hold your shoulder and the other under your chin. He carefully lifts your head so your big, sad eyes are forced to look at his worried ones. “My beautiful girl is crying and won’t tell me why. I’m not going anywhere until she speaks to me, and neither is she.”

“I told you, nothing happened. I just wanted to go inside...and I was cold,” you try to defend yourself. When another year slides down your face, Mick reaches it before you have the chance to. His thumb slowly runs below the wet skin below your eye.

“Tell me the real reason, y/n,” Mick speaks quietly into your ear. He knew as well as you did that you being cold wasn’t the reason you got so snappy.

You grab the bracelet on your wrist that Mick had gotten you a couple weeks ago and twirl it around, anxious and sheepish at how you treated the girl.

He grabs onto your bracelet as well. You let his fingers travel around your wrist to meet yours which he grabs and squeezes tight. “I’m afraid I know exactly what’s got you like this,” he admits with his head cocked to the side. “Why don’t you just tell me? That’s what has me most concerned, y/n. I want you to be able to talk to me.”

“If you already know...then there’s no use in telling you,” you slowly speak, hoping for any excuse to not admit it out loud.

Mick’s fingers intertwine with yours. “Go on and tell me. I’d like some confirmation,” he says.

“No.” Your response is quick and certain. The thought alone of admitting you got jealous to Mick made your cheeks warm. You hate how much you needed him, not realizing just how much he needs you, too.

“Why not?” Mick sighs, starting to become annoyed with your stubbornness.

“Because I’m...” you start loudly, but quickly lose all confidence. You look to the side down at the ground.

“Because you what, baby?” Mick urges you to finish your thought. He rests his palm on your far cheek and pulls you back to him so you look him in the eyes once again.

You swallow your pride and speak. “I’m...I’m embarrassed, Mick,” you admit through a voice crack. Mick remains quiet while you struggle to continue. “I guess I got...j-jealous of that girl you were talking with,” your voice was only a whisper and you were surprised he could hear you at all.

Mick holds your head still with both hands despite your desperate struggle to look away. “Baby...” he sighs. He knew that’s what I was going to say. “You know you’ve got nothing to be jealous of. You’re my girlfriend for a reason, y/n, not her.”

You let out the full stream of tears that you’ve been trying to hold back all night and sob. Mick’s grip on you loosens and you fall into him. You wrap your arms around him and cry into his neck. His one hand find the back of your head and his fingers run through your hair, trying his very best to relax you. His other arm was wrapped around your back, pulling you as close as he could. “Shh...” he whispers in your ear. “It’s all going to be okay. We always work through these things, always.” You feel safe in his arms, even after all the tension that was created between you and him tonight.

“You...you seemed really into her,” you tell him through your sniffles. “I thought you liked her more than me.”

You feel Mick shake his head and then kiss the top of yours. “Not possible,” he murmurs into your hair. “I do have to be nice to my fans, though, y/n. Even when those fans are a little flirty.” He stops and pulls you away so he can look at you. “But flirting doesn’t work on me, you know why?” His attention switched back and forth from your red eyes to your red lips.

You shake your head, looking into Mick’s deep blue eyes. “No,” you whisper.

“Because I’ve got you right here, y/n. You’re everything and anything I could possibly need in a girlfriend, and then some,” he tells you, staring into you eyes as he does so. “You’re on my mind all the time, beautiful. You’re all I think about—whether I’m on stage, with my fans, with you. You’re always in my head. Do you even understand how stupid I would be to give you up for some stupid fan that I don’t even know?”

You smile at his words because you knew they were true. Mick and you had such a strong relationship. It was stupid of you to get jealous since you knew Mick wouldn’t risk anything with you. “I know...and I’m sorry,” you apologize with a voice that’s still quiet. “I overreacted, and I’m sorry,” you begin to gain a little more confidence as you continue your apology. “I’m sorry. I just really—”

Mick didn’t let you finish, though. This always happens when you apologize—you end up going on long, repetitive rants. And Mick knew you well enough to know that’s exactly what was about to happen. His lips, which had formed into a small smile, touch yours, immediately shutting you up.

It doesn’t take long before he pushes for entrance with his tongue, which you obviously accept. Your tongues meet and Mick gets more aggressive with his movements.

He pulls you into him and moves you down to the ground. Your head is resting on the hard floor of the venue, but you didn’t mind. His warm hands slide under your shirt and trace along your figure, sending shivers through your body. When he gets far enough up your body, he moves away from the kiss just long enough to lift the shirt over your head.

“Lift your head up for me, darling,” he says through a deep, raspy voice—a voice you loved so much. You do as he says and he places your folded shirt under your head as a temporary pillow before immediately going back to the kiss. His hands explore your bare upper body and toys with the clasp of your pink bra.

“You’re everything, y/n. I wouldn’t change this moment for the world.”

Airbender’s Wife (part 2)

Hmm, posting this fanfic before the weekend is over *twiddles thumbs*. Still incomplete though; will add the continuation within the week.

The Airbender’s Wife (part 2)

Note: This is literally a continuation of The Airbender’s Wife, which is an off-shoot of Contentment – which follows the “what if” Lin Beifong and Tenzin had a happy ending/beginning (all posted under the linzin fanfic tag in my tumblr).

Pairing: Legend of Korra: Lin / Tenzin; not canon compliant

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

Tenzin’s body clock has always been programmed to be on time for morning meditations. No matter how tired he was, he will feel restless and wake up at the same time (getting up is a different thing altogether though).

That day was not an exception.

He stretched his arm to his right, intent on drawing his wife closer for a few more minutes before rising, but instead his hand landed on cool bedsheets. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he got up nimbly and wandered around the house, hoping to catch his wife before she left.

The airbender found Lin standing in the dining room, garbed in a long Earth Kingdom-styled dress, a small face mirror propped in front of her at the sideboard as she attempted to clip a rather stubborn curl of her hair.

“Up early?” He approached her, landing a kiss on her cheek.

“Ba Sing Se day, Tenzin.” She responded, not looking away from the mirror.

“Ah, here, let me.” Taking the clip from her, he easily pinned her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “How about I join you today? I don’t have any council business.” He gave her a hug from behind, squeezing her hips lightly, hinting of a promise that would likely end up with a less than productive day for them both.

“Right,” She brushed him off. “But you’re off to train the Avatar -.”

“Korra, dear.”

Lin rolled her eyes affectionately. “You don’t have council meetings today because you have to train Korra.”

“Then how about I bring Korra to Ba Sing Se?” Tenzin persisted, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“You also have scheduled meditation with the air acolytes today. And Tenzin, do be serious,” She finally faced her husband. “The girl has barely gotten used to Republic City – you wouldn’t want her presence to cause intrigue in Ba Sing Se. Next, you’ll hear Izumi would be requesting for the Avatar to drop by the Fire Nation.”

“Fine,” The airbending master glumly conceded as Lin pushed him slightly to get around the table to prepare for her trip. “Can’t say I didn’t try though.” 

In general, the airbender disliked being apart from his wife for long periods of time – what more today when she was looking particularly radiant. As much as she did not prefer what she called as business outfits, they suit her well. He also knew that Lin dresses up accordingly as what is expected of a Beifong lady.

Tenzin observed Lin who was in a layered dress of forest and emerald green, with a low v-collar, lined with golden accents. The dress also had slits, which he (as a husband) appreciated on her but (also as a husband) especially minded that other people would likely appreciate it on her as well. His wife insisted on them though (“That is too high, Lin.” “No, it’s not – it’s functional, enough for bending”), explaining that a tight dress would only hinder her bending, and in turn be an obstacle in protecting herself.

Not like there was anything he could do to sway her when she has set her mind to something.

“What,” He pulled her closer to him as she paused as she caught him staring, raising an eyebrow in return. “I can’t help it, are you sure you don’t need a bodyguard to join you?”

“Bodyguard – you? Mr-Violence-is-not-the-answer?” She felt his lips creep from her cheek to the side of her lips. 

“You know what I mean.” Tenzin said seriously as they stood close to each other.

“I’ll be fine,” Lin responded and adjusted her bangles and bracelets. “I’m prepared as always.” The metal bangles and bracelets would function as more than fashion accessories should need arise. She swept the folders and other envelopes into the beaded bag she had on the dining table. “I’ll be back before you know it, I just need to reach the train station in time for the first train to Ba Sing Se.”

“No, you’re not riding the train to Ba Sing Se in that!” Tenzin sputtered, gesturing to her clothes.

“Why? As far as I know, the train stations are pretty safe,” Lin was offended. “I made sure that there were roving guards and security checks. People travel via train daily.”

“Well,” Tenzin conceded. “But not you!” He tugged at his beard in slight agitation, as Lin placed her hands on her hips. “Take Oogi with you.”

“Travel via sky bison -no thanks!”

“For my peace of mind, take him please.” He softly requested and he saw his wife ready to give in with a slight incline of her head. “And, wait a second.” Tenzin hurried to their bedroom as Lin finished packing her bag.

Lin felt the familiar weight of a pendant and the silky ribbon on neck when she straightened up. Her husband gave her neck a small kiss after he fastened the necklace.

“There, everyone will know that Lady Lin Beifong has yet to leave her airhead husband.”

“Tenzin.” Lin said with warning.

“Oh come on, you know what they think of me in the upper ring. I bet some of them have been hoping that you leave me or have had me offed for whatever nefarious reason.”

He was well aware of how, despite being middle-aged, desirable his wife was in all aspects. He might be the prized airbender but in the modern world (or even in the not-so-modern Earth Kingdom), she was definitely worth more with the literal Beifong legacy of wealth, power and social clout, not to mention her own bending skills were far more superior than most, and of course her position in Republic City was nothing to scoff at.  And of course, barring knowledge of any of those, he recognized that his wife posed an attractive (albeit mysterious) figure.

“I think I can handle myself,” She said ironically, as the safety of Republic City’s entire population did rest somewhat on her hands. “Okay fine,” She gave in, seeing her husband not budging, arms crossed. “I’ll take Oogi but only to make it easy for me to travel back and forth.”

“You’re the best,” He gave her a light kiss and strode off to the stables.

-----

“Good morning, Korra.” Lin watched in amusement as the Avatar slowly inched her way to the dining room, rubbing her eyes and rolling up her air acolyte clothing sleeves, mumbling a response.

“Tenzin’s not going to like your outfit, kid.” She raised an eyebrow at the teenager.

“What?”

“Your sleeves.” 

Korra unfolded her sleeves and plopped on the nearest chair as Lin poured her tea.

After taking a sip, Korra became aware of a far-away noise and that it was the Chief of Police sitting in front of her.

“Wow Lin, going somewhere?” 

“Hmm?” Lin absentminded fiddled with her betrothal necklace; she appeared to be waiting for something as she had already finished preparing for the trip. “Ah yes, Ba Sing Se for estate and business matters.”

“Not in your police uniform?”

“No, I don’t think the business people will take me seriously. They’ll probably think I’m my sister’s bodyguard.” She snorted, an action seemingly out of character with the fine clothes she wore. “I have to know how to play the role of Lady Lin.”

Now, it was Korra who snorted and coughed, realizing that this was Lady Lin. The Avatar took the opportunity to inquire, to learn more about her airbending master’s wife.

“What does being Lady Lin Beifong entail?”

“Ah well, I just don’t think I should be called Lady anything. Sounds a bit archaic, if you ask me.” 

“But why are you Lady Lin?”

“My mother is currently Lady Beifong. So I guess my sister and I just follow? And they just haven’t been sure what to call the wife of Master Tenzin I suppose.” The earthbender shrugged gracefully, exhibiting the result of years of being trained in etiquette befitting the Ladies Beifong.

“But still…” Korra’s eyebrows furrowed as she sipped her tea. “What’s in Ba Sing Se?”

“Well,” Lin continued. “It’s the mid-point across Gaoling, Republic City and Zaofu so that’s where my sister and I conduct regular meetings with the board and the executive committees of the Beifong companies and properties.”

The Avatar was about to probe further when there was a commotion outdoors and the Avatar vaguely heard Tenzin talking to an air acolyte about saddling Oogi.

“He’s a bit overprotective, sometimes.” The metalbender stood up, ready to leave.

The presence of the airbender halted their conversation. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes, dear. I’ll be safe.” 

“See you later.” Tenzin gave her a quick kiss as she passed by him.

Lin slung her bag and nodded to Korra. “Avatar.”

“Chief.” The Avatar gave a small wave.

“Well, let’s get to business.” Tenzin beckoned for his pupil to follow him outdoors.

Korra quickly finished her tea, scalding her tongue. But at least she would be awake.

-----

Unfortunately, there was not much difference from the previous day. Korra was still unable to release a puff of air from her hands and had difficulty getting through the airbending gates. Tenzin was similarly frustrated with himself.

It was at this sad state of things that Lin arrived at early evening.

Korra was lying on the ground trying to airbend when Oogi made a landing and sent dust skittering off.

“You okay there, kid?” Lin checked in on her as she slid off Oogi’s back, several packages in hand.

Korra just made an X with her arms, while having her eyes closed.

The earthbender smiled sympathetically. “It’ll get better.” She stepped over the defeated Avatar-in-training and gave her thanks to the air acolyte who had taken Oogi’s reins to lead him to the stables. “Clean up and dinner will be ready soon. I brough home food from Ba Sing Se, including Water Tribe dishes.” She entered the house, coming across her husband in the living room.

Tenzin eyed the packages that Lin brought home. “Had fun shopping, dear?” 

“Just a bit,” She shrugged as she carefully placed them on the dining table. “Here’s the contract for the renovation; the Zaofu workers will be in Republic City early tomorrow morning.” She tossed him the folder. “I’m assuming you can file this in city hall?”

“Thanks.” He absentminded took the folder. “How is Suyin?”

“Su is Su. She lives in her own world – literally. I had to make her promise to avoid visits to Republic City for the time-being given the increasing clashes between benders and non-benders.” She looked up and knew from his expressions that he was worried. “How was training Korra today?”

“I can’t get through her,” Tenzin disclosed, frustration coloring his tone. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Be kind to yourself,” She began unpacking the food she brought home. “Republic City wasn’t built in a week. You’re both adjusting. These takes time, and you’re a pretty patient man and I know that from experience.”

“I don’t feel patient today,” Tenzin allowed himself to be embraced by his wife, murmuring in a downcast tone. “How about let’s eat quickly and retire early tonight?”

“Unfortunately for you,” She pulled up the newspaper from the sideboard and pointed to an article. “Tonight’s the Pro-bending semi-final qualifiers and you know I can’t miss it.” 

Tenzin groaned in disappointment. “Liiiiin.”

“Tenzin,” She laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll have dinner before I join the boys.”

-----

“Where are you going?” Korra asked.

“It’s Pro-bending night.” Both adults responded to her, one excited and one sullen.

“You don’t like Pro-bending?” The teenager asked her airbending teacher. “It’s been my dream to watch one of the matches live. Never thought I would be a ferry ride away from the arena!”

“It’s a mockery of the traditions of bending!” He threw up his hands.

“Oh come now, Tenzin,” Lin inclined her head to the grumbling airbender. “It’s no Agni Kai but it’s adequate entertainment.” 

“That’s just it – entertainment.”

Korra looked back and forth at the volley of responses from her hosts.

“Spirits forbid anyone have fun in your vicinity, Airhead.” Lin took it in stride. “Mother did say you were always the serious one.” She tugged lightly at his beard before standing up to take the trays of food and drink outside.

“Can I listen too?” The Water Tribe born Avatar tentatively asked.

Tenzin frowned deeply as he met Lin’s amused face, eyebrow raised in challenge. “Fine, but meditation for you starts 15 minutes earlier tomorrow.”

Letting out a whoop, Korra stood up and took the other tray of drinks and followed Lin outside, where the White Lotus sentries were gathered around the radio.

“Hello, men.” Lin made their presence known as she placed the tray on the wooden table at the station.

“Good evening, Lady Lin, Avatar.” The sentries chorused as they scattered to make space in the half-circle to provide seats and to take the trays from Lin and Korra’s hands (“Call me Korra!”).

The Avatar-in-training watched in amazement as Chief Beifong sat among the White Lotus sentries, comfortable in her Earth Kingdom dress. The lady was laughing in camaraderie and was even exhibiting that she knew them all by name. She chatted with them as they shared the finger food she brought home from Ba Sing Se while waiting for the commentator to finish with all the introductions and recaps. Korra figured it was not their first time to do this.

“How is your daughter, Hung? Did she like the mini pots and pans?”

“Oh yes, Chief, she enjoyed having a mini kitchen set to play with.”

“Lady Lin, my mother sends her regards.”

“Ah yes, Minha, I hope she’s getting used to the South Pole well.”

“Yes and she appreciates the coat you sent her through Lady Kya.”

Korra enjoyed herself immensely, freely laughing and feeling the start of an affinity with the White Lotus sentries. It was a far cry from the feeling of isolation she experienced back in the South Pole. They booed and cheered accordingly as the matches went by. They did not seem to particularly take her Avatar status with a lot of fanfare, which she liked.

She watched the metalbender at the corner of her eye – for all her misgivings, it would seem that the airbender’s wife was not all that bad as literature and media made it seem. The woman was laughing, no condescension in sitting and eating at the same space as the sentries. If it were not for the golden filigree and her attire, Korra would have thought her a part of the team. She was pleased to see that Lady Lin had no airs, which was more than could be said of her own Northern Water Tribe cousins.

“Excuse me, good evening everyone.” Tenzin’s voice cut-through the din. “Just checking if I may now take my wife home?”

The sentries stood up to give a bow, which the airbender returned and waved off.

“But we’re just getting to the good part,” Korra almost whined. She anticipated that she would be told off to go to bed too.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Lin accepted her husband’s hand as he helped her up from her stool. “I’ll go ahead, you all have stay and finish the match.” She motioned to the group. “I trust you’ll be able pack up later and finish your shifts?” At everyone's affirmative, she placed a hand on Korra’s shoulder. “Alright, see you all tomorrow – well, maybe not all: Aki and Sansan, I think you're both off duty tomorrow.”

With that, the group bid the pair good night. 

“Say what you will about those two,” Head sentry Yao, one of the more senior ones in the group, jerked his head towards the couple going back into the house, with the airbender still tightly holding his wife by the waist, tripping with faint laughter trailing behind them. “But they’re definitely a love match.”

“Never seen a more dedicated wife like the Lady Lin,” A dimpled sentry (Aki was his name, if Korra was not mistaken) commented wistfully (“And vice versa on the airbending master as a husband!” Another piped up). “I don’t get it why they get so much flak from the Order and the press.”

“Tradition,” Yao scoffed. The rest of the sentries turning to face him, relying on his experience as fact, being that he had been on Air Temple Island as a junior sentry during the previous avatar’s term. “If anything, they know the Lady would not be held down but they expected Master Tenzin to at least be a bit more pliable. A little bit more steeped into tradition, you know?”

Korra accepted a mini fruit tart that was being passed around the group, as they wait for the advertisements from the radio to finish. There was a lot, given that it was probably the third to the last ad slot. 

“It’s not like Chief Beifong was wasting her time in Republic City,” Han revealed that he used to be part of the Metalbending police department until five years ago when he decided to heed an offer from the Order of the White Lotus. “She had always been fair – very strict – but fair. Highly competent and much more capable than the entire City Council put together in protecting the city (“Shhh, don’t let Councilman Tenzin hear you!” “He meant keeping the city crime stats lower – that can’t be achieved by peacekeeping alone.” “Ah, right right. True.”).”

Into the third round of the last match (the Fire Ferrets were proving to be a well-trained underdog) , they felt the ground trembling.

Korra immediately stood up, tensing. “What on earth is that?” Earth tremors were uncommon in the South Pole, and if any, it did not seem to forecast good fortune. She distinctly noticed the unease among the sentries as they communicated non-verbally with each other. “Should we prepare for something? I can go inside and warn Tenzin!” 

“No!”  The vehement chorus of No’s surprised her.

“Well, okay – no.” She was confused now. “Is there an evacuation plan or is this normal?”

The sentries looked at each other, appearing unsure to Korra.

“Well?” The Avatar-in-training was poised to run into action at the first sign of danger, putting down her cup of water on a nearby tray.

Finally, head sentry Yao cleared his throat. “Don’t worry Avatar, this is very normal.”

Eventually, the floor ceased its apparent movement and there was a collective sigh of relief.

The rest of the sentries cast furtive glances at Korra as she sat back down, unable to fully focus on the game. The sentries, though, were easily engrossed in the match.

The match soon ended (“And the Fire Ferrets wiiiiiin!”) and everyone pitched in to clear the area. Korra hovered awkwardly, still on alert and very wary of the earth tremors.

As the last of the cups and trays were brought away, Yao took pity on the Avatar and wanted to give her peace of mind.

“You sure that was normal?” Korra twisted her hands in slight agitation. “That won’t cause the island to split and sink or something?”

“Yes, Avatar, there is no need to worry about it.” The head sentry accompanied her to the door of the Air Temple residential building.

“I don’t remember the island sitting on any fissure that would cause it,” The young woman wracked her memory for any geological feature near Republic City that could result in an earthquake. Man, she really needed to brush up on her studies. “I don’t think I’ve read about a phenomenon in the text way back.”

“Uh, it wasn’t a fissure,” Yao looked downright uncomfortable now. “And it’s a fairly new, uh, phenomenon; just a couple of years old.”

They have reached the entrance to the house; Korra paused and tilted her head in question. Just then, the ground shook a bit more for a few seconds long then every thing was still. “Tell me I didn’t just imagine that.” 

Two sentries (Ming and Jian?) passed by as part of their rounds. The head sentry nodded at them, “Will the two of you check The Area tomorrow?”

Ming and Jian saluted and Korra was left pondering why “The Area” sounded like it was said with capital letters, as though the White Lotus were talking about a very specific location.

“Better get some rest, Avatar. Good mood or not, Master Tenzin and Lady Lin wouldn’t appreciate it if we,” Yao rubbed the back of his neck as he turned back to the Avatar who was waiting for answers. “Continue to discuss the, eh, aftershocks of their evening exercises.”

Oh Agni, please swallow me into the ground now.

----

Welp. Playing with the idea on what the pair looked like to others they interact with on a day-to-day basis for more...~domesticity? Eh 😏 lemme know what you think.

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My related posts:

Prologue (Contentment) 

Airbender’s Wife 1 | 3 | 4

Would you be okay with doing a Sherlock thing where reader is really really close to him, could be romantic but doesn’t need to be if you don’t want to, and perhaps they get kidnapped (and tortured if you’re up for it??? Perhaps Sherlock can watch from a livestream the kidnapper is doing?) could be a happy ending if you wanna! I’m just here for that gud angst 😈

Uhh, so this kinda got out of hand. It's 3.6k words and I was barely able to stop myself. Thank you for this prompt!!! Nothing too graphic, but there are mild torture scenes, so if that makes anyone uncomfortable, skip this one! ***Particularly HumanYou’re startled awake by the sound of a gunshot, your unplanned nap in John’s old chair ending abruptly. You groan and shift your position, knowing better than to worry. Sherlock is just being Sherlock. He’s been particularly antsy lately, as a case has been getting under his skin. “What? Did I interrupt your beauty sleep? Sorry, there’s only people dying,” he spits at you, pacing back and forth the flat the two of you have been sharing for a while now. You roll your eyes at him, scoffing at his nerve. You’re used to it at this point, and know not to take him seriously when he’s acting particularly venomous, he’s just externalizing his frustration towards himself for being unable to immediately figure out who is blackmailing his brother's coworkers. Of course he’s good, he’s better than good, but you’ve been seeing a particularly human side of him lately. It’s not that he’s slipping, he’s actually been solving cases at lightning speed, this is the first one to trip him up in a while. It’s just that now he trusts you? You almost can’t believe it, given his fiery exterior, but you know him. You know Sherlock Holmes. “Yeah, because giving poor Mrs. Hudson a heart attack is going to help you solve the damn case,” you finally say after staring at him for a few seconds. He squirms under your glare before you notice his demeanor change. His eyes light up and that classic shit-eating grin grows across his face. “That’s it,” he mutters, turning with bravado and gathering his things in a hurry. “Get ready, we have a plane to catch!” “Goddamnit, Sherlock,” is all you manage before he grabs your hand and drags you downstairs in a flurry. He never seems to tell you all of the details surrounding cases he deems especially dangerous, and it makes you mad sometimes. You want to be able to help, but you can’t if he won’t let you. Sometimes, you’ll figure it out on your own and save the day, but this one is more bureaucratic than your liking so you’re alright with being kept in the dark. He eventually manages to hail a taxi and is furiously typing into his cell, you look over to see John’s name at the top and you smile at the prospect of seeing your friend. John has been busy lately with taking care of Rose and you can tell Sherlock misses him, as he’s always trying to annoy him into helping the two of you. You can hold your own, that’s for certain, but seeing John would be a nice change of pace for both of you. Before he’s able to send the message his phone rings. You see Mycroft’s name pop up and he groans before rejecting the call, on principle, of course. He finishes typing and puts his phone on silent before turning to look at you. He meets your eyes and smiles ever so slightly. “This is going to be more risky than I had initially thought, so I need you to do everything I say and don’t,” he emphasizes the word, “do anything stupid.” You can hear the worry edging into his voice.“You know I can’t promise that, you wouldn’t have brought me if I could,” you say, bumping into his side, playfully. “You know what I mean,” he says, eyes locked on you. You don’t know where you’re going or where you’ll be even in an hour, but none of it matters because you're with him. You trust him, too. With your life, because god knows he’s saved it before. Your sides are still touching and you decide to break his gaze by resting your head on his shoulder. This isn’t new for you and Sherlock, he’s been more open to touch than usual, but you’re always concerned you’re going to push him too far. Your worries dissipate when you feel the slightest amount of pressure on your head and know that he’s leaning on you too. The moment is broken by the piercing shrill of your cellphone in your back pocket. He sits back up and you move to see who’s calling you, you could’ve sworn you turned the damn thing on silent. When you pull it out, you’re not surprised to see Mycroft’s name and a rather unflattering picture Sherlock took a few years ago gracing the screen. Sherlock audibly groans and snatches the phone from your hands.“What?” he bites out, cold as ice. You can hear Mycroft’s hushed, frantic tone but can’t make out what he’s saying. The more he talks, the more jittery Sherlock becomes, not getting a word in over Mycroft’s mania. “Well lucky for you, we’re already headed that way. Be there in ten.”“What was that all about?” you ask, your curiosity getting the best of you.“Oh, this is going to be fun. Kidnapping! Can’t wait!” he says, giddiness written across his face. You can’t help but laugh at his excitement, you love seeing him like this. Despite the rather morbid subject matter you’re often dealing with, seeing Sherlock in his element, enjoying himself makes it all worth it. You know you wouldn’t trade it for the world. When you pull up to the airport a bit later, you can sense something is off. You don’t know what, but you’ve got a weird feeling in your gut about what is about to transpire. Sherlock is still riding the wave of the new revelation regarding the case, but if he doesn’t think anything of it, you suppose it’ll be alright. The cab was let in without any trouble, nobody asked who either of you were or why you’re there, and it would be safe to assume Sherlock is a household name by now, so he’d be let in without question. But they didn’t even check to see if he was there, the gate just opened. It’s less anxiety inducing to assume this is all a part of the plan, but you can’t seem to get over the thought in the back of your head that something is not right. The cab ever so slowly comes to a stop and the driver gets out, you assume to open the door for his passengers, but the second his door closes you hear him lock the doors. Your heart drops. You should’ve known. You should’ve said something. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sherlock pulling on the door handle and banging his fists into the window. “It’s not worth the energy,” you say, still stuck swimming within your own self doubt. It’s evident in your voice and downcast eyes that you’re upset. He looks over, his face softening for a moment before grabbing your hand. Suddenly, his look of determination is back in full force. “Well, obviously not, but I refuse to sit here and let this transpire without trying” he says, giving your hand a small squeeze before climbing to the front seat to meddle some more. “We’re in the heart of the beast,” you say, still processing the predicament you’ve found yourselves in, “we’re surrounded.” Sherlock’s lack of response confuses you until you look up at him. He’s staring off at something and you follow his gaze. Oh shit. Mycroft is climbing out of a plane with his hands behind his head in surrender, a masked man has a gun to his temple. “Coward,” Sherlock mumbles, finally accepting the reality of the situation. You’re not getting out from brute force alone, this is going to take some doing. Seemingly out of nowhere, two men with automatic rifles hiked behind their backs are pounding on the door, gesturing to get out. Suddenly the doors unlock and the men rip them open. One now has his gun aimed at your head. You roll your eyes, inconvenienced at most. “I’m coming, I’m coming, settle your ass down,” you say, hoping to extend to Sherlock that you’re okay. You aren’t overly worried, more pissed off at yourself for your lack of action. The man grabs your arm harshly and jabs the tip of his gun into your back. You can see the other man practically dragging Sherlock out of the car, you laugh under your breath, knowing he’s making it as hard for the men as possible to do their jobs. They walk you both over to where Mycroft is now on his knees, arms still up.“Ah, little brother, nice of you to finally join the party,” he says, a twinge of, something, in his voice. “Some party,” you bark out and groan when the gun digs deeper into your back. “Hey, leave her out of this” Sherlock finally speaks, coming to your defense nonetheless. You all know it’s in vain, but hearing his voice is reassuring. “Where’s the fun in that?” A disembodied voice comes out of the speakers typically used to communicate with the ground staff. They’ve taken up a new purpose now, and you’re less than thrilled to hear whatever this jackass has to say. “Oh for fucks sake, enough with the theatrics,” Sherlock yells, you look over and can practically see the gears turning as he processes what to do next.“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Mycroft mutters under his breath, “do not push these people.” “What are they going to do? Put us in time out, where’s the creativity, guys? The innovation, this whole gun to the head thing is so tired,” Sherlock says, exasperated. “You want creativity? Bring me the girl.” “Oh, here we go,” you say as you’re pulled up. You look back and see Sherlock’s eyes widening in what seems like fear? That can’t be right, this has to be part of some big plan he’s made up, so you shoot him a lopsided grin, letting him know that you’ve got this.As you’re being taken into the building, you can see the brothers being herded into the big commercial jet a few yards away. They stop you outside a door and push you down to your knees. Before you really know what’s happening, you’re blindfolded and you feel your wrists being forced into handcuffs. You grin out of spite. “Let’s get this show on the road, I don’t have all day” you push, seeing how far you can take this. You’re also beyond over this situation to begin with. You definitely seemed to have pushed their buttons and you’re made aware when you’re shoved in the room, the door slamming behind you.“Darling. Come in, take a seat, relax,” you hear the voice say. Not through the speakers, this time. He’s here. “Oh, I’d love to! Thank you so much for your hospitality. This blindfold truly is the best I’ve ever had,” you say, trying to match his sarcasm, refusing to show fear. Objectively, you’re in a weak position, but as long as you don’t show it, you know you’ve got a semblance of the upper hand. “Only the finest silk for such a fine woman” he practically purrs and you can hear footsteps drawing closer to you. You aren’t shocked when you feel a hand caressing your face, stroking your hair. This is pretty routine, the whole creepy bad guy, can't get laid, scenario. You hear him walk around you to the front and kneel down to your level. You can’t resist. You spit in his face. You’re delighted when you hear him cry out in disgust, you smile to yourself, proud of your actions. “Oh, you’ve really done it now, you bitch,” he says, tone laced with malice, “hit the cameras.” he says to what you can only assume are more of his minions. “Now, I know you can’t see it, but I’ve got your boy toys tied up in a very similar manner. I need information. I need control. I need power,” he spits out. Monologue time, you think to yourself. Wouldn’t be the first you’ve heard. “And I know it won’t be given up voluntarily. But it seems you and the detective have grown rather close, you’re always on his tail like a little lost puppy.” “Rude,” you say in an attempt to keep yourself together, if anything. He ignores you.“It’s my understanding that the boys need a bit of, let’s say, motivation, to tell me what I need to know,” This is a first. Surprisingly. You know John had been taken before to get to Sherlock, it’s about time someone decided to try and use you. It feels inevitable, these are the risks that come with working alongside him. You knew that when you signed up. No regrets. He’s worth it. “So Sherlock is going to tell me what I need to know, or his puppy is going to get sent to the pound.” You’re really over this whole dog metaphor. What is it with these people and their goddamn metaphors?You hear the man get up and walk away, you feel yourself hoisted up and are dragged in the same direction. Your handcuffs are taken off and put back on again, but this time in front of your body. You hear a rattling above you and your heart sinks. Your hands are raised above your head and connected to what you assume is a chain hanging from the rafters. One of his men yanks the chain and your body is pulled upwards so your feet are barely touching the ground. You bite back a groan, refusing to give them what they want despite how vulnerable you feel. “Now Sherlock, are you there? Can you see us?” he says to the air. You feel your blindfold ripped off and see Sherlock and Mycroft projected onto the wall in front of you. You do your best to take stock of where you are and who you’re with, but you can’t tear your eyes off of him. He’s on his knees, hands tied behind his back, and there’s a long gash across his face, from his eyebrow to the bottom of his cheek. He sees you, panicked. Behind him, a man pulls off his gag. “Leave her alone, you bastard. Get your hands off of her or I swear you’ll regret it,” he growls. You want to believe him. You want to believe he has the upper hand here, but you have to admit, the situation is looking pretty damn grim. “I’d like to see you try. Just for that, let’s see what happens when you disobey,” the man shoots back. You try to make out as many details about him as you can, but the mask he’s wearing makes it difficult. He turns around and stalks towards you. You can faintly hear Sherlock yelling in the background, but your attention is focused on the man. Suddenly, you’re blinded by pain, a shooting sensation coming from your side. You look down to see the handle of a screwdriver sticking out of your stomach. You can’t even begin to process what has happened before you’re faced with another blow, he punched you in the face. You feel the blood begin to trickle down into your eye, eyebrow cut wide open. You look up to see Sherlock struggling in his restraints and screaming. You can’t hear him. Did they turn his audio off? Or did he really hit you that hard? You can’t tell, nor do you really care. You can’t think of anything outside of the tool sticking out of your body and Sherlock on the screen. You hear the two of them talking, but can’t exactly make out what they’re saying. You feel a few more hits to your torso before you daze off into a fitful sleep. You wake up in a haze, unaware of where you are or how much time has passed. But you know you’re still hanging from the damn ceiling. You try and open your eyes, but can only manage to open one, the other crusted shut with the blood from your eyebrow. You can’t help but let out a groan, still not wanting to show weakness but it hurt so damn bad. That’s when you hear a voice. A different voice, a new voice. A voice that doesn’t immediately strike the fear of more pain into your heart. Is that? It couldn’t be. Is that John? This maybe-John speaks again and is fiddling with your restraints, trying to get you down. Definitely John. You don’t know what changed, but you’re slowly becoming able to make out what he’s saying.“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m going to get you out of here, I promise, I brought the cavalry, you’re going to be okay,” he went on like that for a while, just muttering whatever he deemed helpful. Moreso to himself than you, you personally couldn’t imagine walking in on your close friend like this and holding it together as well as he is right now. The last thought before you drifted off again was that, once again, John Watson was saving your asses. The next time you wake up is much more peaceful. You’re lulled awake by the steady beeping of a machine you’re hooked up to. Your throat is dry as all hell, but when you realize someone is sleeping on a chair beside you, you decide it isn’t a priority. What is a priority is this curly-haired goofball of a main, gripping your hand, tighter than you’d think possible for someone unconscious. His breathing is shallow and his head is resting on your bed, curled up as close as he possibly can to your good side. You smile to yourself and squeeze his hand reassuringly. You’re alive. He’s alive. You’re assuming John and Mycroft took care of the rest. You’re still a little fuzzy on the details, but hey, it doesn’t matter as long as Sherlock is okay. He shifts in his sleep, and then mumbles something before slowly lifting his head. He woke himself up. He’s adorable. “Hey, you” you say softly, letting go of his hand to stroke his hair and get a look at that face. You grimace when you see the freshly stitched up wound looking red and angry. “They really got you good, didn’t they?” “Me? How on earth are you possibly worried about me right now? They stabbed you with a screwdriver!” He exclaims, entirely too fired up for a man who just woke up. He sees you wince at his volume and puts his head back down, nuzzling into your side in apology. “I should’ve been able to stop it. I should’ve known better than to take you with me. I knew it wasn’t going to be good, I knew it was a risk. I didn’t know they were planning on using you as leverage. I never would willingly put you in danger, but I did. And I am so sorry.” Your heart breaks at his words, his tone of voice, and his sincerity. You don’t think you’ve ever heard this man apologize, not for anything, and it kills you that he’s blaming himself. You reach down, ignoring the shooting pain in your side, and grab his chin, gently turning his head to yours. Are those unshed tears in his eyes? You know you have to fix this right now. “Sherlock, this isn’t your fault, okay? I promise it’s not. From day one, I knew something like this was possible. I knew the danger I was in and I did it anyway.” He tries to butt in, but you don’t let him. “I did it anyway because you are worth it, all of the risk, and all of the pain. You save lives. You’ve saved my life, in more ways than one, and if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. You are worth it. Spending time with you is worth it. Being with you is worth it. It’s worth all of the stab wounds in the world, okay?” You take in the look on his face, the adoration and the… love? Soon, the unshed tears are streaming down his cheeks and you can’t take it anymore, damn your injuries. You place your hand on the side of his face, stroking a tear away and pull him in close until his head is resting on your shoulder, face in your neck. You can feel the hot tears on your skin and begin to trace your hand up and down his back until he calms down. Finally, his breathing becomes more even and he manages to choke something out. You can’t hear him and he repeats himself, pulling away from your neck. You instantly miss the touch of his skin to yours. “I just can’t lose you, I can’t. I wouldn’t be okay, but you deserve better than this” he manages to say before collapsing back into your embrace. “Oh Sherlock, you aren’t losing me anytime soon, okay? I’m alright, I’m alive, I’m here and there’s nothing you can do to get rid of me. You make,” you stutter at the weight of what you’re about to say, “you make life worth living,” he doesn’t respond, but instead, wraps his arm around you, meticulously avoiding your injuries. You return your hand back to his head, running your fingers through his hair. God, you love him. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to say it to him, but you hope more than anything that he knows. Because you love him so fucking much. You can’t even tell when the two of you fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. The one you weren’t conscious to see was John walking in to check on you, surprised to see Sherlock had already taken care of things. Whether or not he smiled and took a quick picture of you guys isn’t any of your business, but John thinks to himself how he’s most definitely going to use the picture as blackmail for the rest of his life.Little did he know, neither of you will care. You love him and you aren’t afraid of anyone knowing. ***My inbox is open for requests! I can't figure out how to link it because tumblr ~must~ update every other week just to confuse me, but I'll write for just about any fandom I'm in! There's a list not too far down my blog. Thanks again for the request, I hope you liked it!