#-to these things? instead of skipping to them?

[deathbxnny]

RAHH YOUR BACKKK

perchance, could you do arcane women reacting to reader in the aftermath of a really toxic relationship like how they would comfort them and stuff?

Arcane women comforting you after a toxic relationship. | Sevika, Vi, Jinx x Gn!Reader

You can't just say perchance!/J

But on a serious note, thanks for the interesting request, I had alot of fun writing this!<3

Content: Angst, past toxic relationships, fluff, can be read as either platonic or romantic? Idk, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》SEVIKA

She hated your ex and never bothered to hide it either. Her passive-aggressive remarks and cold glares got the point across every time, but she never tried to talk you out of your relationship. It wasn't entirely her business anyway, and you'd learn eventually on your own. Trying to intervene would only make things worse unless they were hurting you, to which she'd bury them alive for it.

Either way, it came to no surprise to her when you appeared at her door late into a random night, crying and sobbing incoherently at what had happened. You finally found the strength to break it off with your ex, but that didn't stop the heartbreak from lingering in your heart so horribly. Yes, they were terrible to you, and it was for the best you left, but the self-doubt and conflicting emotions in you were driving you to the point of insanity.

Thankfully, Sevika was quick to get you into her humble home wordlessly, slightly unsure of how to comfort you. But she didn't play her long awaited "I told you so" card. Instead, she got you some tissues, a nice cold drink of your choice, and your favorite food before simply sitting down next to you in silence. She figured that listening to your rant would be better than to say anything, and so she did just that, for how long you needed it.

Deep down, she was brewing with anger, though, yet kept it calm for you. She wanted you to feel comfortable here and even goes as far as to let you cuddle up to her at the end of your vent session. In her mind, many different ways of dealing with your ex's existence came to mind, yet they stilled at the softest "thank you" given by you.

Her heart skipped an embarrassed beat as she waved your gratefulness off with a stubborn shake of her head, claiming it was nothing to worry about.

Your ex, on the other hand, definitely had something to worry about, though, once she gets her hands on them.

》VI

Vi has been itching to fight your ex from day one, yet refrained at your pleas to not hurt them. She always told you that you deserved better. That you deserved someone who actually loved and cared about you, but you couldn't see her way no matter how many times you two talk about it. It's like you couldn't see past the love you had for your ex until the glasses finally did break.

The pink haired woman intervened during a heavy argument between you and your ex, which eventually led you to finally just break it off with them for good. You were so sick of their fighting and finally understood what Vi was seeing from the start... but that didn't stop the guilt and heartbreak from seeping into your heart by the time you made it back to her place.

You felt ashamed for not seeing it sooner, but Vi was quick to wrap you up in warm blankets and reassure you that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Things like that can happen to anyone, after all. And you learned something from it, so that's a good thing!

She will try and give you a bit of a peptalk that then veers into her, wondering if she should beat your ex up for good measure. Words won't get through to them, but these fists certainly will! Or so she thinks. Thankfully, you eventually fall asleep in her embrace before you can notice her once again reckless scheming.

Vi may let them get away with it for now, but if she ever sees them around, it will be on sight... well, as long as you're not there too. She wants you to feel safe with her and hope's that you do, as she, too, finally falls asleep.

》JINX

I hope your ex is good at dodging bullets because Jinx will shoot them on sight. She has already contemplated this from the start and never thought anything good of them either in all the time you dated them. She'd prank and annoy the hell out of them in the hope of driving them away, especially after you warned her not to hurt them.

But that didn't mean anything to her anymore, after you two finally broke up. Her efforts weren't for nothing after all, and she would've rejoiced at the news if it weren't for your heartbroken expression that greeted her the moment you stepped into her hideout.

Pushing her chaotic and murderous thoughts aside for the moment, she was quick to cuddle you up in her strong arms and let you rant all about your troubles to her. She'll feed you your favorite food and drink whilst you speak, yet doesn't say much herself. She's a good listener when she wants to be and luckily knows when to be serious. At most, she'll join in at the shit talking phase, glad to finally be free to gossip about them in peace with you at last.

Eventually, she'll try and distract you with some new inventions or stories of hers until you fall asleep, at which she takes that as her green light to go on a little hunt. After covering you in all of the blankets she can find and making sure that your resting place is extra comfortable, she casually loads her gun and exits the hide out with a wide grin.

Finally, some revenge for all the tears you've shed.

[nonranghaes]

heads up: fem!reader, anesthesia mentions, talk about how reader got sick from anesthesia. author is in pain and needs to focus on something else lmao

"and then she told me 'she got a little sick'," felix is carefully removing a shirt from a garbage bag, already well aware of what the contents of it contain, but he doesn't think twice as he prepares it for the wash. it's a shirt he bought you for christmas, a gift given early so you can wear it to your surgery and know he's still there with you. "how bad was it?"

you're sitting on the floor next to him, even though there's plenty of counter-space around him. "oh, it was the fucking worst." and then you wince a little, having opened your mouth too much to talk. you go back to that quiet tone of voice you've been using ever since you got out of your surgery earlier. "i don't know if they were trying to give me privacy or anything when they were changing my shirt, but... i was wearing a bra. i did theatre for years. i don't care about them fully taking off one shirt and replacing it with another when it was just three of us."

"ah." he throws your shirt into the wash, already reaching for your sweatpants. another victim to your sickness but far, far less so. the detergent will do it's job there, he thinks, plus it's a dark enough color... he sits down on the floor, the laundry basket between his legs now, and his foot presses against your side as he starts to dig through to find stuff he feels fine washing now. "i picked up your medicine. do you feel like eating yet?"

you shake your head. "i don't want to get knocked back out. i missed hanging out with you."

he chuckles, and you can see the pretty way his cheeks turn a rosy pink as he continues to throw things into the front of the washing machine. "i'll be up. do you want to eat something small? we can skip the narcotic for right now unless you end up needing it..."

"that sounds nice. can we game?"

he sets aside the rest of the laundry to do in a separate load, closing the washer as he crawls over to you. he plants a tiny kiss against your lips, hopefully not enough to hurt you in any way, and then another, longer one against your forehead. "we can game," he says. "pudding or jello? we've also got yogurt, but..."

with a sheepish look, you opt for finding and squeezing his hand instead of risking your jaw hating you further by sneaking a little kiss. "... pudding sounds good."

[musings-of-a-rose]

A New Life - Part 3 (Finale)

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x ofc Cornelia

Word Count: 8700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?

Notes: I asked and you voted! One final part instead of 2! Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

General Marcus Acacius Masterlist

A New Life Masterlist

The horses neigh and stomp at the ground, anxious to enter the city and start their path through its streets to the capital building where the Emperors were waiting for us.

Not us. Him.

The tent opens and Marcus strides out of it, his presence commanding. He’s dressed in a white and gold armor, a ridiculous color for actual battle but damn if it doesn’t leave me breathless. His hair sits in perfect salt and pepper curls, a new scar on his face a red line across his cheek, enhancing his attractiveness. Now I understand why Lucilla dressed me in a white and gold tunic - to match him. To show a team. To show my support of him. 

Marcus is lost in thought as he makes his way to the chariot where he is to ride and lead the procession, I'm somewhere behind him, not so far back that I’ll have to run to keep up with him at the end, but not so close that I take any attention from him. Not that Marcus would care in the slightest, but these Emperors are so damn picky. He doesn’t notice me at first, completely focused on whatever he’s thinking about until he nearly knocks into me. He steps back, an apology forming on his lips that dies there as he takes me in, his eyes roaming up and down my body. 

“You…you’re stunning.”

I can feel my cheeks warm and I glance away from him and back. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Marcus scoffs. “This old thing? I feel ridiculous in it.”

I step up next to him and speak in his ear. “Well then I’ll have to help you out of it.”

A growl rumbles in his throat. “Let’s skip the celebration. Think they’ll notice?”

I smile. “They might.”

“Damn.” He tips my chin up and presses a soft kiss to my lips that starts to heat up when his chariot driver clears his throat. Marcus breaks the kiss, his eyes lingering on my face a moment longer. 

“Sir. Sir, it’s time.”

His eyes are glued to mine and I can see all the anxiety and worry building there, not just for himself but for me as well. “See you up on the hill.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Damn this city is loud. I thought we had a lot of people but they were nothing compared to this. Packed in tight and yelling their approval, I can barely hear myself think. Despite my rapid heartbeat that increases the closer we make it to the center of the city, I can hear them chant his name. Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! They love him. And I find my first commonality with the people here in the great city of Rome.

We turn down a street and head through these massive pillars and down another path, at the end of which stands a massive white staircase. At the top I see 2 men clad in white robes - they must be the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. My stomach turns immediately and I have a sense of foreboding, but that may just be my nerves. I’ve never met rulers of a nation this size before. Marcus hops off his chariot and walks back to mine, offering me his hand as I disembark.

“Are you ok?” He asks as I step down.

I shrug. “As good as I can be.” 

He escorts me up the stairs, pausing several from the top to drop my arm, a move we had discussed earlier, as the Emperors would want to address him directly. I watch him ascend those last steps alone, praying that everything goes alright.

Also to check out his thighs because damn.

Some words are exchanged between them that are lost to me, the crowd behind me is too loud for me to make it out. Then they place a crown of golden laurels on his head, which sends my mind whirling. He looks like one of the Gods themselves. He addresses the crowd with a raised hand as they all cheer and chant his name. Then he extends his hand down to me, his eyes immediately finding mine and trying to offer some comfort. I gather up my tunic and ascend the last few steps, happily taking Marcus’s hand. He gives it a little squeeze and some of the nerves leave my body. 

“Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta. May I present to you my wife, Cornelia.”

Pale makeup cakes both of their faces, coal darkening the skin around their eyes making them look less imposing and more…psychotic? Geta addresses me first, his eyebrows raised as his eyes rake over me and flick between Marcus and myself.

“General Acacius. You found yourself a wife. It’s about time.” He takes a step closer to me. “We all thought he would die without having heirs.”

I nod. “I see, my Lord.”

His head cocks to the side, his eyes still on me as Caracalla steps up beside him. “Your hair is absolutely gorgeous! That red is so vibrant!”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Their eyes are studying me, watching me and for the first time, I realize exactly why Marcus asked Lucilla to tutor me. 

“Come! Let’s celebrate and get to know your new wife!” They turn and head into the room behind them, marching up to a table with a few goblets of wine. Marcus looks at me and gives me a soft smile before offering his arm to escort me inside. A servant offers us both a glass of wine and I take it, copying Marcus. 

“We will have the games in your honor, Acacius.” Geta holds out his cup to toast. 

“That is not necessary. I am merely happy to serve Rome.” Marcus lifts his glass to toast, but Geta withdraws his own, Caracalla looking between them with disappointment. 

“Nonsense. We are celebrating your wins, Acacius.”

“The wins are not mine but yours. I do this for Rome.”

Geta stares at Marcus for several tense moments. “Then you’ll be happy to hear we plan on conquering India and many others next, under your leadership of course.”

Marcus’s shoulders droop ever so slightly. “My Emperors. I was hoping to have a break from war to spend time with my new wife.”

My heart swells, but then Geta interrupts my thoughts. “Surely it won’t take you that long to make babies?”

Caracalla laughs. “It might brother. He is old.” They laugh together, Marcus smirking at an attempt to join in the jest, but I’m seething inside. This old man could kill them in an instant. 

“Whatever time it takes, I’d like to make sure my wife settles in and is comfortable before I go off again.”

Geta studies him a moment. “Nimibia.”

I can feel Marcus tense beside me. “What of Nimibia?”

“Take Nimibia for us. Once you return, we will have the games and then talk of a break for your lovely wife.” Getas eyes find mine for a moment, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips before he looks to Marcus. “That is not a request.”

Marcus takes a deep breath. “As my Emperors command.”

Caracalla claps his hands together. “Excellent! And don’t worry about Cornelia. I’m sure she’ll have fun at court!”

It’s merely a week later when Marcus heads for Port Ostia, his troops sailing this time to Nimibia. We had said several long goodbyes as I held him between my thighs. His last kiss was hard and deep, pouring every ounce of love and worry into it. He pulls back and cradles my face in his hands, speaking so quietly that I can almost not hear him.

“Stick close to Lucilla. You can only trust who she trusts, yes?” I nod. “Say nothing to anyone. There are ears everywhere.”

“I understand.”

He kisses me again. “Please be safe, Cornelia. Court is deceptively dangerous.”

“You’re going off to a literal battle and you’re telling me to be safe?”

There is no smile on his face. “Some battles are fought with swords. Others are fought with words and they can often do more damage.”

He’s right. “I understand. If I miss you, I can simply go stare at your statue.”

Marcus groans, rubbing a hand across his face. “You’re never going to let me live that one down are you?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“I did not ask for that.”

“I bet not.” 

“Truly! I came back from a campaign and they demanded it. And now I have to stare at that thing every time I walk down that street. I try to avoid it.” We chuckle together at that and then fall silent for a bit. 

I smooth my hands down the front of his armor. “Listen here, Marcus Acacius. You-” I jab a finger at his armor. “-are not allowed to die. Or get severely wounded. I forbid it. I won’t allow it. Do you understand me?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he tries to remain serious. “Yes, ma’am.”

We watch each other for a few moments, Marcus brushing a few stray red strands of hair off of my face. One last kiss, a heated one, and then he abruptly spins on his heel and leaves, closing the door behind him. One might find this harsh but I get it. He had to make a quick exit. It’s too hard to leave otherwise. I walk to the window and watch him stride to his waiting horse, taking the reigns from the stable boy as he heads out of the city. 

The house is quiet, except for the street noise from outside. There is a servant wandering around in the kitchen, but I am truly alone in this giant city.

Alone in a city full of people, most of whom I can’t trust. 

It’s been 2 months and I am certain about one thing: I. Hate. Court.

The Emperors demand my appearance at nearly every single party they put on, some of them more mild but most of them are outrageous. They bring in people to fight to the death as they place bets, the blood and body parts splattering across the floor to cheers and geers. The first time this happened, I was not prepared. I practically ran from the room to empty my stomach into the first pot I could find. 

When there weren’t fights to the death, and even when there were, the amount of promiscuity made me extremely uncomfortable. I am not a prude by any means, but I also don’t care to partake in massive orgies, especially when I was not made aware it was that kind of party. Emperor Geta tried to get me to stay, talking to me as I tried to keep my attention solely on him. Eventually, the woman hanging off of him took his full attention and I managed to slip away. Thankfully, no one questioned my absence. 

I tried often to get out of these parties, choosing to spend more time with Lucilla or pretend I was sick. It worked sometimes, either I missed my invitation or I was too ill to answer it. I remembered what Marcus had told me about being careful so when Lucilla told me I would have to stomach at least a few parties to keep up appearances, I did. For Marcus. 

Another month goes by when I receive another invitation. I’m about to say my apologies, as I have no desire to be amongst all of the backstabbing and political plays, but the delivery boy taps the front of the letter, urging me to read it. I open the invitation and my stomach flips, my lips pulling up in a smile as tears drop from my eyes.

Marcus will be home the day after tomorrow, a successful conquer of Nimibia. 

“Let the Emperors know I will be at the welcoming ceremony.” The boy nods and turns, running back to the capital building. 

My mind is whirling with questions and scenarios, mainly wondering if he had been injured. I had only received one letter in his absence, and he told me it would be almost impossible to communicate once he reached a point. Still, it has been hard these last months without him. 

“Leta?” I call out and my servant comes around the corner. 

“Ma’am?”

“General Acacius is coming home. Come, help me figure out what to wear.”

Just like my initial arrival into the city, the crowds are massive and loud and for once I’m glad I’m at the top of these ridiculous stairs. Leta and I had chosen the same outfit I’d worn on that day to match Marcus. Before we head out of the capital building and wait at the top of the stairs, Emperor Geta walks up to me.

“Nervous?” His eyes study me.

I smile coyly, playing my part. “A little.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine. And if not…well I’m sure I can find a place for you here.” He takes a sip from a goblet, his eyes never leaving my face.

I swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. “You are too kind, Emperor.”

He takes a step closer to me, too close in my opinion. He brushes my hair behind my exposed shoulder, his eyes tracing down my neck and across my collarbone. “I am nothing if not generous.”

Before I can say or do anything, a soldier walks in and salutes, his fisted hand tapping the opposite side of his chest. “Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta. They are in the city walls.”

Geta’s gaze is still on my face. “Come. Let’s go see if your husband is still…intact.” He offers me his arm and every fiber of my being wants to reject it. But I remember Lucilla’s words of warning. Always accept an arm from the Emperor. I put on that coy smile and take it, my stomach churning both at his touch and anticipation for what I’m about to see. Caracalla comes to my other side and we all walk out, Geta dropping my arm several feet from where they will great Marcus. I wait and try to remember how to breathe. The crowd gets louder and louder, their cries suddenly taking on a shape.

Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!

Relief washes over me as I realize they’re chanting his name, which means he must be on his chariot. I can’t see from my position, but a few moments later, Geta and Caracalla look down the steps and I assume he must be coming up them. I hold my breath, waiting for my first glimpse of my husband since he left nearly 4 months ago. 

Suddenly, he’s there. Dressed in white and gold, the sun shining down on his beautiful greying curls, a new scar across his cheek, but otherwise in perfect health. All limbs and no limping. I let out another sigh of relief, unable to stop a few tears from tracing a path down my cheeks. Marcus salutes the Emperors, pointedly not looking at me. I know he has to pay them their proper respects. It’s all part of the game. Some words are exchanged between them, but I only have eyes for Marcus, how he leans his head down so they can place yet another crown of laurels upon it, the way he stands strong, but trying not to impose. The way I can see how exhausted he is in his eyes, even though others may not see it. 

“Ah yes. Your wife. She is here.” Geta steps to the side, gesturing for me to come. I follow the command, my eyes on Marcus, seeing his face light up as his eyes rake over my body both in concern and something darker.

Marcus offers his outstretched hands to me and I take them, his familiar touch relaxing me even more. 

“My lady,” Marcus leans and plants a kiss to the back of my hand, standing back up to smile at me.

Marcus turns and addresses the crowd once more, his arm high in the air, before turning back and offering his arm to me, following the Emperors back inside the capital building. A servant comes and offers us wine, which we all accept. 

“We will have games in your honor. May your sword always be sharp and ready for Rome.”

Marcus shifts beside me. “Games are not necessary, my Emperors. I do this for Rome.”

Geta lowers his cup, the sip he was about to take abandoned. “Nonsense. We must give you the praise you’ve earned.”

“I am happy with no praise. I am only here to serve Rome.”

Geta studies him for a moment. “Well then you’ll be pleased to know we’ve decided to go after India next.”

Marcus clears his throat and I can feel him tense beside me. “Emperors, I was hoping to have the time off of war to spend with my wife that we had discussed before Nimibia.”

Geta looks at me and smirks. “Oh, I think she’s settled in just fine. Haven’t you, Cornelia?”

I plaster on as convincing a smile as I can. “Everyone here is wonderful. But I’ll admit, I have missed my husband and would love to have time with him, as husband and wife should.” 

“Mmm…” Geta’s eyes slowly move to Marcus. “And what say you, General Acacius? Would you let your wife keep you from doing what you do best?”

“May I speak plainly, my Emperors?” Geta cocks his head slightly but nods. “I was contemplating retirement. I am not getting any younger and my captain is more than capable of taking my place. It would give me time to start a family on the estate I am due.”

Caracalla stomps his foot. “No games, then? I want to see limbs being chopped off! I want to see blood! I want to see-”

“Brother! Enough. But you do give me an interesting thought.” He pauses, and I feel like I want to vomit. “We will have the games. And General Acacius, you are correct. You are due an estate at your retirement, anywhere of your choosing. However, it would be a great loss to Rome to lose someone of such skill.”

Marcus shifts slightly. “My Emperors, as I said before, my captain is perfectly-”

“I am not finished.” Marcus closes his mouth and waits. “As I was saying, your retirement would be a great loss to Rome. So how about this: you will compete in some of the battles in the games to represent us, Rome, as a sort of…farewell. If you win, you get to retire and you have my promise no one will bother you. If you refuse, you will leave for India immediately and you will continue warring in the name of Rome until the day you don’t return.” 

Caracalla claps and whoops, but all I hear is whooshing, the sounds from all around me fading into the background. Marcus? Compete in the games? The ones where people fight animals and each other and Gods know what else to the death?

“May I have a moment?” Marcus asks. Geta waves a hand, taking a sip of his wine and turning to talk to his brother, who is still animatedly waving his arms about. 

Marcus takes my arm and escorts me a few feet away, glancing around to make sure no one is in ear shot as he leans in, his eyes on mine. “I have to take this.”

“No! I have not been to these games but if they’re anything like the parties I was forced to attend, you cannot do it!” 

“Cornelia, I cannot keep going away to war. The moment I get back they will send me off again. And one day I may fall and not get back up, lost to another land.”

I lean up, pretending to kiss his cheek. “We could run away. Tell them no and I’ll sneak on the ships or take Caius. We could run away and start over somewhere else.”

“My love, you know they would hunt us down and find us. This is the Roman Empire. They own almost all the world.”

Tears well in my eyes as he pulls back. “I am afraid, Marcus. What happens if…if…”

He pulls my hands up and kisses them. “If something happens to me, go to Lucilla. Stay with her. She will get you out of the city safely. They won’t chase just you.”

“No, Marcus. You can’t.”

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I must.”   

The next day, Marcus and I sit in chairs behind the Emperors, his hand holding mine as they let loose some animals and fighters into the arena. The scene that follows is not a pretty one but I force myself to watch as the men mostly get punctured with horns or teeth, others being stabbed by their fellow fighters once the animals have all died. One man remained, brown hair and anger in his stance, and he was declared winner of that round.

There were several more rounds of this sort of thing. Sometimes the men would have weapons and other times not. The one thing that was consistent was the blood and gore and death. My stomach churned as I watched the blood pool in pockets around the arena, handlers carting away limbs as the crowd cheered. Then the Emperors stood, Geta turning to face Marcus and I as we stood. 

“Tomorrow, you will have your first match. Sleep well.” He smirks before leaving through the door, Caracalla following in his wake, his monkey perched on his shoulder. I start to say something but Marcus squeezes my hand, shaking his head slightly. It’s not safe to talk here. We hardly say a word to each other on the way back to our apartment, both of our minds on tomorrow. I let Leta go home the moment we come in, rounding on Marcus the second she leaves. 

“You cannot go tomorrow!”

Marcus beckons me to him as he walks to a small table to pour us 2 glasses of wine. He hands me one and we each take a sip, Marcus patting the seat next to him. I take it, setting my glass back on the small table. He speaks quietly, as if he’s afraid there’s someone listening. 

“There is more to this than you can see.”

My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

He leans in closer. “There is a plan to retake Rome.”

“You mean, overthrow the Emperors?”

“Exactly.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He shifts even closer to me, our bodies touching. “I have 5000 soldiers coming to Port Ostia. Men who are loyal to me as is my captain. They will march into the city and arrest the Emperors for crimes against the people.”

Nerves hit my stomach, both from relief and anxiety. “Then why don’t you move?”

“They won’t be there for another 8 days. We just have to hang on for that time.”

We’re quiet for a moment. “Who takes over?”

“Lucilla and those still loyal to her father have a plan. Rome will serve her people once more.”

Marcus cups my cheek, turning my face to look him in the eyes. “I know I am asking a lot of you, my love. I did not anticipate the Emperors asking me to compete, but I must keep up appearances.”

Tears start to well in my eyes at the thought of tomorrow. “But what if you-” he cuts me off with a kiss, his tongue pressing its way into my mouth before he pulls back, his forehead against mine. 

“Tomorrow is tomorrow. I may be older but I am still a soldier.”

I don’t eat the next morning, Marcus already gone before I wake. Leta dresses me in silence, this time in a black tunic laced with a gold trim, a red scarf to toss over my shoulder. She gives me a small smile. “To match General Acacius,” she says simply, having seen him depart this morning in his armor. 

An hour or so later, I’m sitting in the Emperor’s box, my chair moved to be seated between the Emperors. I clasp my hands together to keep them from fidgeting with my outfit, willing my legs to stop bouncing. A couple of battles go by but I pay them little attention, only noting that the same man with the anger in his eyes seems to have won some more, the crowd now starting to chant his name. Hanno! Hanno! Hanno! Once the arena was cleared and reset, the announcer clears his throat, addressing the crowd.  

“This battle will be different. General Acacius has agreed to compete in the fights in the name of Rome!” The crowd, momentarily bewildered, starts cheering and chanting his name. One set of gates open and several armed soldiers exit, walking to the middle of the arena. Then the gates on the other side open and the crowd goes wild. Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! Marcus struts out into the arena, sword in hand and determination on his face. I hold my breath and I swear my heart stops beating. A few of the soldiers step forward, meeting Marcus halfway. He salutes them, the hand holding his sword pressed to the opposite shoulder as he bows his head slightly, the soldiers copying him. 

And then, he dances. 

Marcus runs at the first soldier, slashing him down instantly with his sword, coming up to meet the next one. He gets tripped and lands on his back but wastes no time in slashing at their ankles, getting back on his feet only a handful of seconds after he fell. Another soldier slices him across the back and I gasp, seeing Marcus yell in pain before turning to slash at the soldier. 2 more rush him and he parries, a fist making contact with his cheek before he can block it. His sword rises and slices through 2 more soldiers within moments, leaving only one left. The soldier knocks him down but Marcus pulls him with him, angling his sword up so the soldier spears himself upon it as Marcus’s back slams into the ground, his chest heaving. 

The crowd goes wild, his name is chanted louder than before, deafening in the echo of the stadium. He rises to his feet, his sword at his side as he looks around, finding me in the Emperor’s box. He puts his fist to his shoulder in salute, bowing to not just the Emperors, but to me. A sigh of relief escapes me as I release the breath I had been holding for what feels like ages. Then a scoff of disappointment reaches my ears. 

“Damn. I wanted to see more blood!” Caracalla whines, his monkey screeching once at the rise of his voice. 

“Don’t worry brother. You may see more of it soon.”

Rage pours through my veins, my chest heaving against my will to not say or do anything. I swallow hard, turning my gaze to Emperor Geta. 

“My lord, may I go and see to my husband?”

His dark eyes bore into mine. “I think they have doctors there that would be better suited to tend his injuries.”

“You are correct of course, but some things require a woman’s touch.”

Geta smirks, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a more menacing way than I think he realizes. “Touche. Go to him.”

“Thank you.” I bow to them both and calmly take my leave, running once I am out of ear shot. I flag down a guard and demand he take me to where they have the fighters, specifically, the General. He escorts me across the arena and down a few tunnels until we come to a giant barred wall with a barred door set into it. He knocks and a man comes to it.

“Is the general here?”

The guard shakes his head. “Healer’s room. Next gate over.” I thank them both and run to the door, my hand raised to knock before I realize it’s not locked. I walk inside and see…no one. No one is here. I walk back outside and look around. Nothing. But then he rounds the corner, a man following next to him, trying to dab at a scratch on his face. He sees me and his entire demeanor shifts. I run to him, throwing my arms around him the moment we collide. He pushes me against the wall, his hands cupping my face, pressing his heated lips to mine, his thigh sliding between my legs. The man clears his throat but if Marcus hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge him. He merely walks me backwards to the healer’s door and kicks it open, the healer complaining and throwing his hands in the air when Marcus slams it behind us with his foot. 

He walks me backwards, our lips still dancing when my back collides with the exam table. He gropes at my tunic, bunching it up to my hips as he grips them, lifting me up on the table. He shifts himself and pushes into me with a grunt, my lips breaking the kiss as I gasp. His fingers are deep and bruising as he holds my hip with one hand, hitching my thighs around him with the other before slamming it down on the table, giving himself more leverage to thrust deeper and harder, the adrenaline from the fight fueling his desires. I bite his lip and he growls, pressing me further into the table with each thrust as I cling to his broad shoulders. My muscles tighten, my blood pulsing between my thighs as I cum, Marcus swallowing my moans with his mouth. He thrusts into me a few more times before he bites my shoulder, grunting and moaning as he spills himself inside of me. We stay like that, attached and breathing heavily for several long moments, his forehead now pressed to my chest. I raise an arm weakly, running my fingers through his hair. Finally he looks up at me, his brown eyes searching mine. 

“Did I hurt you?”

I smile, shaking my head. “You never do.”

He seems to realize where we are now, straightening up and pulling himnself from me with a hiss. I slide my tunic back down and stand up, adjusting my clothes. 

“I am sorry, Cornelia. I lost myself.”

I cock my head. “Sorry for?”

He gestures around. “It is…not exactly the most private place.”

I stand in front of him and grip him by the armor, looking up into his eyes. “You could fuck me in front of the entire Roman army and I’d beg you to do it again.”

His eyes darken, an eyebrow raised. “Oh really? Because I could make that-”

“Excuse me? Sir?” The healer is at the door, cautiously knocking and trying to avert his eyes. “I need to tend to your wounds. If…if I may?”

Marcus and I exchange a smirk. “Yes. I am…sorry. I get carried away by the sight of my wife.”

The healer chuckles, removing his hand from his eyes and looking at me before looking back at Marcus. “Don’t worry, sir. I have the same reaction to my wife. Which is why we have so many children.” 

The next night, we are wakened by a knock at the door. Marcus sits up and pulls on his tunic, gesturing for me to stay in bed. He comes back in a moment later, his eyes concerned. 

“It’s Lucilla. Did you send home Leta?”

I nod. “Yes. No one should be here until morning. Is everything ok?”

“I don’t know. Get something on an come out.”

I do as he says, quickly pulling over a tunic and a sleeping robe before I head out, seeing Marcus already pouring a glass of wine for Lucilla. She thanks him and takes a nervous sip, looking at me as I walk over. 

“Can I speak freely?” She addresses Marcus, glancing back at me. 

Marcus nods. “She knows. Is everything alright?”

Lucilla takes a shuddering breath and meets his gaze. “It’s him, Marcus.”

“Who?”

“Lucius. My son. He’s back.”

Marcus is silent for several moments, my mind trying to catch up. I do remember her mentioning a son at one point, but I assumed he’d died, as she stopped talking about him after a certain age. 

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I went to see him. This Hanno? That is him. He hates me, Marcus.” Tears start to fall down her cheeks. Marcus takes her hands in his in an attempt to soother her. 

“I am sure that is not true.”

She nods. “He hates me for sending him away.”

“May I speak?” I ask, unsure of my place in this conversation. Lucilla looks up at me, her cheeks glinting in the candlelight with her tears as she nods.

“I was sent away when I was young as well. I don’t think he hates you. He may be upset with you but not hate. I’m sure you didn’t send him away for no reason.”

She shakes her head. “If he had stayed, they would have killed him.”

“Why?” I ask, still not entirely certain I understand Roman politics. 

“Because he is the only heir to the Roman throne. The grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

I know that should mean more than it does to me, but I have heard his name whispered and seen busts of him, mostly in Lucilla’s home. I know he was her father and from what I gather, the last decent Emperor of Rome. When the Emperors still cared about the people. 

Marcus address Lucilla. “My troops are only a few days away. Then they will come into Rome to arrest the Emperors as planned.”

“But you will also have to enter the arena again during this time. What happens if you die?”

Marcus’s jaw clenches slightly. “My captain would still carry out my orders.”

Lucilla shakes her head. “I don’t know. This feels like too much time.”

“What if we..speed it up?” I ask. They both look at me questioningly. “It’s just…I’ve had to spend a lot of time with the Emperors over the last few months and…they each hate that they have to split the crown with the other. I can see it in their eyes, their small movements and glances towards each other. There is brotherly love, but there is a lot of hate and jealousy. What if we use that to our advantage?”

“How so?” Lucilla asks.

I take a deep breath, knowing that this will fall heavily on my shoulders. “We pit them against each other. Whisper in their ears rumors that they’d heard about the other one. Maybe about them trying to take the crown for themselves? Anything to drive that wedge. They may just off each other.”

Marcus looks at me. “This sounds very dangerous. And there’s no guarantee that it would be quicker than my troops.”

I take Marcus’s hand. “I’ve had to be around them for months, watching. Observing. Trust me, it’s right under the surface.”

Marcus and Lucilla exchange a look. “It could work, Marcus. She’s not wrong.”

“Yes but she will be in danger. I don’t want that.”

I squeeze his hand and he looks at me. “We’re all in danger the longer we’re here. You don’t think they would try to take you out just to have me? Why do you think you’re in the games? I can do this, Marcus. They would love the attention, especially Geta.” 

Lucilla thinks a moment. “They kill each other and my son takes over as heir. Assuming he would want that title. If not, we have a replacement. He already said he would happily stand aside for Lucius.”

Marcus shakes his head. “I don’t know-”

“It would mean far less bloodshed than a battle between soldiers. You know lives are bound to be lost if the soldiers enter Rome by force. This way, only 2 lives should be gone and Rome will be all the better for it.”

Marcus gets up and paces the room, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. Finally he sighs and comes back over.

“Let’s do this.”

The next day, I put on a tunic that Geta had complimented me on previously. Leta fixes my hair, half up with some braids pinned around my head. Leta leaves and Marcus takes her place, his hands on my shoulders. 

“Are you sure, Cornelia?”

I place a hand over his and squeeze. “This will work. I’m sure.”

An hour later, and I find myself tossing my head back with fake laughter at something Caracalla said. I gently touch Geta’s arm as tears stream down his face from laughter. 

“And his head just popped! Clean off! Rolled right across the floor!” Caracalla continues to laugh, turning to one of the men he has surrounding him, who immediately gives him all of his attention. I pick up my glass of wine, thinking of what to say.

“You’re so kind with that,” I nod in Caracalla’s direction, speaking to Geta as I take a sip.

“Kind? With what?” 

I turn and look at him, leaning a little closer, Geta matching my lean. “You allow your brother to go on and on about violence without worrying. It’s clear it means a lot to him.”

“Yes, I am kind…but…I don’t quite catch your meaning here?”

I look up at him, swallowing down the bile in my throat at his close proximity. “Weren’t the two men in his story brothers? Who both tried to control their family farm?”

He shakes his head. “So?”

“So..well, I just thought…oh nevermind.”

Geta shifts his body to face me, leaning closer. “Tell me. Speak freely.”

I hold my wine glass in front of my mouth, as if I’m telling him a secret. “Well, it’s sort of like you and your brother. Twins, having to share the crown. Him being above you being he was born first-”

“He is not above me!” Geta whispers angrily. 

I avert my eyes. “I am sorry, Emperor Geta. I was merely repeating what he’d said to me.” It’s not entirely a lie. I had heard Caracalla speaking about how he was born first and so he was first ruler. But he didn’t say it to me directly.

Fire burned in Geta’s eyes as they shifted from me to Caracalla. “And what else did my brother say?”

“Oh I shouldn’t-”

Geta grips my forearm tightly. “Tell. Me.”

So I launch into a small story I’d made up, planting more and more seeds of doubt in his mind.

That night at their dinner party, I walk up to Caracalla, speaking to his monkey. We chat about monkeys for a moment, Caracalla glancing over my shoulder every so often.

“I’m sorry, Emperor, is there something I’m keeping you from?”

“Hhmm? Oh no. It’s just..” He leans in closer to me. “Geta has been looking at me oddly all day. Like he’s upset.”

I glance over at Geta, who is currently involved in a conversation with a Senator. “I- well I shouldn’t say.”

Caracall looks at me. “Tell me.”

“Well, earlier I heard someone talking about how you’re first born so you’re the first Emperor.”

He nods. “I was and am.”

“Yes, well, Emperor Geta overheard that and was furious. He started telling everyone he was the main Emperor. Not you.”

“Oh really?” The same rage that fired up in Geta’s eyes now burned in his brothers. “He’s always been jealous of me!”

“Well, you do have a great monkey.”

Caracalla looks at me for a moment and then laughs. “You’re right! I do! Come, let me show you how he can dance!”

2 days and I’m spent. I cannot stroke their egos any more. Unfortunately, Marcus is to compete today, hopefully the last battle he will have to do. This time I wake with him, Marcus putting his head between my thighs before I can even move. When I try to pull him up, he declines, saying he needs to save up the energy. Something about it being good for battle. 

“As long as you come home and fuck me into this bed.”

Marcus groans, kissing one of my boobs. “That is a promise. But now, I must get ready or I will simply stay in bed all day.”

“That sounds better. Let’s do that.”

He chuckles, kissing me deeply before pushing himself up and getting dressed, the same armor as he’d worn a few days previously. He cups my face, kissing me gently before looking into my eyes.

“I love you. Be safe.”

Gods his eyes are all big and brown. “I love you. Please come back to me.”

“Now this is another special fight!” The announcer speaks to the crowd. “The strong General Acacius!” The gate at one end of the arena opens and Marcus struts out of it, sword in hand, as he walks to the middle of the arena as the crowd screams his name.The announcer waits a moment, letting the crowd settle a little. “Against the mighty barbarian, Hanno!” The crowd cheers for him too, a mix of names chanting around the arena.

I feel Lucilla behind me, trying not to make a scene. This is not something we anticipated. Marcus should not be fighting Hanno, I mean, Lucius, to the death! My pulse speeds up, my blood quickly pumping through me. Marcus turns, seeing Lucius angrily strutting towards him. But before he gets even part way, Geta stands and addresses his captain.

“Make sure your bows are fixed on Acacius. If he wins, kill him.”

“What??” I gasp out, staring up at Emperor Geta in complete shock. He smiles, the dark makeup around his eyes making them look even more menacing than usual. He sits down next to me, leaning in, a small hand placed on my thigh. 

“Do not worry, my dear. No one will question me and I will free you from this marriage so you can be with me.”

I can feel the color drain from my face. “Emperor Geta, I am..flattered, but I made an oath-”

“And I’ll help you to break it! My wedding gift to you!”

Shit. I flew too close to the sun on this one and Geta took it as flirting. I want to throw up, but there’s nothing I can do. They collide in front of me, swords slashing, Lucius headbutting Marcus as he stumbles, quickly regaining his footing as Lucius slams into him, Marcus using his weight to flip him on his back. Lucius swipes at Marcu’s feet as he leaps back, coming up to lunge at him again, the two men grappling. Lucius manages to slam his hand into Marcus, who relents, turning to shove Lucius into the ground. They roll, Marcus jumping up and to the side as Lucius swipes his sword, barely missing him. But when he rights himself, I can see that Marcus has no weapon. 

Lucius gestures to the staff on the ground with his sword and Marcus picks it up, both of them lunging back into battle, the staff quickly snapping in two. Marcus manages to knock Lucius’s head, momentarily stunning him enough he could get behind him in a chokehold. Lucius flings his head back and Marcus stumbles, quickly rallying with a sucker punch to Lucius’s stomach. They clash again, Lucius dropping to the ground after a few moments, getting back up with a smile on his face. They talk for a moment, but then Marcus throws his weapons on the ground, dropping to his knees, and raising his hand in surrender. My stomach churns and I nearly vomit. What is he thinking? 

“Acacius has raised his hand! He has surrendered!” The announcer yells. “Let the Gods decide!”

I feel Geta shift beside me, but I grab his arm. “Wait!” 

Geta looks down at my hand and then into my eyes. “My love, the Gods will speak through me and this will all be over soon.”

I squeeze his arm, willing my nerves to just give me a moment to think. “I know, but I think we should have a toast. After all, he is your General.”

Geta studies me for a moment. Then he nods and I feel momentarily relieved. “Good idea.” He holds up a hand to request a pause. “The Gods are…deciding!”

While he is distrtacted, I get up, taking the offered glasses of wine, my palla swiftly passing over Geta’s as I hand it to him, my own glass poised for a toast. 

“To us, my dear. And to the Gods.” Geta proclaims.

“To the Gods,” I say back, lifting my glass. I see Geta take a sip and turn to Caracalla, who was just taking his goblet from the tray, having had to adjust the monkey on his shoulder. He picks it up and nearly presses it to his lips before I grip his wrist. “Dont!”

Caracalla freezes. “What? Why?”

“It’s poisoned!”

And that is all it takes to crumble two Emperors. 

Caracalla stands up, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. “It was you! You tried to poison me!”

Geta’s eyes are wild. I can tell he’d thought about poisoning his brother. “I did not! Do you hear yourself, brother?”

But it’s too late. Caracalla’s eyes are wide and nearly black with rage as he steps closer to Geta. “You were always jealous I was first! First out of the womb, more loved by mother, and HEAD EMPEROR!” 

Geta’s fists ball up. “You are NOT first Emperor!”

Caracalla laughs manically and I take this moment to sneak out from between them. I don’t want to get caught in that. 

“Jealous! You can’t even admit that I have a higher station than you! So much that you try to poison me?”

Geta’s eyes are wild with anger, spit flying from his mouth as he steps up to Caracalla, yelling “I wish I had done it because you deserve to die!”

Caracalla gasps, momentarily frozen before looking down, the red blood seeping quickly through his white tunic, a knife embedded in him. Geta quickly removes it, watching as his brother drops to the ground, his body moving no more after a moment. Geta tries to straighten up, but he clutches at his stomach. 

“He…he was mad! He was…he would have…what…is happening?” Geta drops to the ground, groaning and yelling in pain as he clutches his stomach. A servant tries to help him but he yells in their face, the color draining from him as his breathing becomes labored. And then his gaze goes blank, his head dropping against the ground.  

For a moment, no one moves. But then the captain snaps me out of it as he commands his troops. “Keep your bows on him! Stand your ground!”

I quietly sneak to a soldier and, in a move Marcus had taught me, hit a certain spot on his shoulder that send him tumbling, but not before I grab his bow and notch an arrow, another in my hand.

“Move!” I yell and the crowd parts as I raise my bow and aim it at the bewildered captain.

I summon all the courage I have, not just for me but for protecting Marcus, and command “Tell your men to stand down!”

The captain just looks at me, almost smirking. “And what are you going to do with that, little girl?”

I loose the arrow and it glides into the pole just next to his head. By the time his head snaps back to look at me, I’ve notched the next arrow. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Look around. Your Emperors are dead from greed and jealousy. Drop your weapons and pledge yourself to your new emperor.”

Still bewildered, the captain takes a moment to respond. “And who might that be?”

“The grandson of Marcus Aurelius and heir to the throne, Lucius Varius Aurelius.” I nod towards Lucius in the arena, my bow still aimed at the captain. 

“Lucius…he’s alive?” The captain asks.

“He is.” Lucilla comes up beside me, addressing the captain. “I can confirm it.”

He thinks a moment. “Well then. Stand down, men.” He watches me as I wait, watching all of the archers to make sure they’ve all put down their bows. When I’m sure, I lower mine as well. 

The captain turns towards the arena. “Lucius Varius Aurelius! I pledge myself to you!” He salutes, one fist against his opposite shoulder as he drops to one knee, his soldiers all following suit. Soon the entire arena follows, everyone bowing to Lucius who, bless him, looks completely out of his element. He tentatively raises a hand and everyone cheers, chanting his name as it echoes across the stonework. 

As the crowd continues to chant and cheer their new Emperor, I drop the bow and run down the back steps, moving as fast as I can towards the gladiator entrance. The guards, having seen me before, fling the gates open and I sprint past them, moving quickly into the arena. The crowds are still chanting Lucius’s name, but my eyes are purely for one man. Marcus turns his head, seeing me coming for him and stands, his chest heaving from fighting and tension, but he still jogs towards me. We crash into each other, Marcus picking me up, his lips finding mine like they were meant to. He pushes his tongue into my willing mouth and I taste sweat and blood mixed in with his scent. The crowd notices as they change from Lucius to ooooo! I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to his for a moment before I look into his eyes, so soft and warm. A small clearing of the throat comes to me and we turn our heads, looking at Lucius.

“Hi,” He does a little wave. “Uh what the fuck just happened?”

We laugh, Marcus placing me back down on the ground. He drops back down to his knee, saluting him. “I, General Acacius, do pledge myself to you, Emperor Lucius.”

Lucius’s eyes widen even more. “What if I don’t want this?”

“You have a choice. If you think this is not your fate, there is another who will take your place. But he is happy to step aside for the grandson of Marcus Aurelius.” 

He nods, still looking uncertain. “But what if I don’t know what to do?”

I smile at him, stepping closer. “Your mother, and her trusted people, will guide you.”

He nods again, turning back to Marcus. “Rise. Or whatever.” He extends a hand and helps Marcus to his feet. “I totally would’ve had you.”

“Keep dreaming, Emperor.”

4 years later on an olive farm outside of the capital…

The light streams in through the window on my face, gently waking me to a new day. I blink my eyes open slowly, stretching lazily. I try to sit up, but a large arm wraps around my bare torso and pulls me close to his own bare body, burying his face in my neck.

“Marcus,” my voice laced with sleep. “It’s time to wake. The twins will be up soon.”

Marcus groans, a quiet “No” emanating from his chest. “Let the servants cook them breakfast today.”

I chuckle. “They do love Leta’s breakfast. But you also have that meeting with the other olive farmers today.”

Marcus starts to kiss a spot on my neck, applying more pressure so as to leave a mark. He lets it go, nuzzling the spot with his nose as the skin reddens. He continues to kiss my shoulder, gently pushing me on my back as he slots his massive frame between my legs. He stares down at me, softly pushing a stray hair from my face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says in awe.

I trace the scar on his cheek with my finger. “Not as beautiful as you.”

He kisses me and then pulls back to nip at my chin. “The farmers can wait. I plan on putting as many babies in you as you’ll let me.”

He pushes into me with a moan, my head pushing back into the bed as he gently slides his hips against mine, taking his time to make sure he gets evey sound, every ounce of pleasure he can from me. 

And when I come downstairs and see him play wrestling with the twins, I think about how lucky I was that my brother tried to use me as a pawn all those years ago. Sure, it was hell enduring my brother, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 8 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii

part viii (gift-wrapping)

You don’t know what the last-minute staff meeting is for, but the email looked important, so you show up outside the building’s biggest conference room on the hour, as ordered. As soon as you set foot inside, though, you know this was one you could have skipped. There are piles of gift bags and rolls of wrapping paper on every table, as well as packets of tissue paper and spools of ribbon and actual jars of confetti with scoops in them. On the whiteboard at the front of the room, someone’s written REMEDIAL GIFT-WRAPPING.

You didn’t think your gifts were wrapped that badly. Tomura hasn’t complained. Then again, Tomura doesn’t know you’re the one leaving his gifts, so he wouldn’t know who to complain to if he had a problem. In spite of showing up on time, everybody else somehow got here before you, so you hesitate just inside the doorway, looking for an empty seat. Before you can find one, something moves in your peripheral vision, and you glance over to find Twice beckoning to you. He’s sitting with Spinner, Dabi, and Tomura, and they’ve got an empty seat nearby.

A few weeks ago, you’d have found somewhere else, but you’re much more comfortable with Tomura and his friends than you were before. Seeing them outside of work at Toga’s party probably helped. Seeing them the next morning, waking up with bedhead and low-grade hangovers that could only be cured with diner food, moved them firmly from the category of scary coworkers to people you could call friends. And waking up at one end of Toga’s couch to realize that you’d spent the entire night sharing it and a blanket with Tomura moved him from Secret Santa recipient to something else.

You’re not sure what else, exactly. You’ve been keeping a close eye on him since the Secret Santa thing started, just so you could figure out good times to sneak down to the basement and leave things on his desk, but for the past few days you’ve felt different about seeing him out and about. Instead of being relieved, and using your next free second to race downstairs and plant a gift, you’ve gone to talk to him. Or you’ve stayed put wherever you were and hoped he’d come talk to you. He’s different at work than he is out of it, but now that you’ve seen him the other way, you can’t fail to see that the person who slept on the couch with you is there when he’s here, too.

Work doesn’t bring out the best in him, and work-related holiday festivities are even worse. You can hear him complaining as you make your way over. “I don’t need to learn gift-wrapping. The stuff I leave is fine.”

“No. Spinner’s gifts are fine. Yours look like you’re dropping off a sperm sample,” Dabi says. He’s organizing the pile of gift-wrapping supplies and ignoring the way Tomura swears at him. “It’s not going to kill you.”

“With everybody else here, Toga’s probably not just picking on us,” Spinner says. He spots you coming over and waves. “Hey. You got an invite, too?”

“My gift-wrapping must be worse than I thought,” you say. You drop down into the chair between Twice and Tomura. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Tomura glances quickly at you, then goes back to screwing around with a mostly-empty roll of ribbon. “You have a gift in your mailbox. I saw it when I checked mine.”

You didn’t put a gift in his mailbox today – it’s on his desk again, waiting for him whenever he gets back. You dropped it off after you saw him walk back on the way to the conference room. “I’ll look after we’re done with this. Does this happen every year?”

“No. It’s new.” Tomura scowls. “It sucks.”

“Hi everybody!” Toga’s standing on a chair at the front of the room, waving to catch the room’s attention. “Thanks for stopping by. It’s come to my attention that some of you guys don’t know how to wrap a gift to save your lives, and even though it’s the gift that counts, the way it’s presented matters, too! So for the sake of your Secret Santa recipients, we’re going to go over the basics of gift-wrapping –”

“And we’re going to practice on these,” Midoriya announces, holding up a clear plastic bin that’s full to the brim. “The gifts from the toy drive. Which we need to wrap anyway.”

“I told you we weren’t in trouble,” Spinner says to the group at large.

“No, we’re just free labor.” Tomura’s scowling worse than before. “I can’t wait to count my papercuts afterwards.”

“To help with this,” Toga continues loudly, “every table has at least one person who knows what they’re doing. Compress and Yaoyorozu will go over the basics, and then your group’s expert will help you get going.”

Where’s your table’s expert? You glance around, only to find everyone else looking at you. “We need to work quickly,” Iida announces, even louder than Toga. “It’s imperative that we get these gifts mailed this afternoon. If they’re delayed by the storm, they won’t reach their recipients in time. Do you want to be the reason why needy children go without presents this year?”

“Hey! Iida! That’s kind of harsh,” Midoriya says hastily. Dabi is snickering. “Just do your best, everybody!”

There’s a bin of toys under the table. Compress and Yaoyorozu order everybody to start with something in a box, since they’re easier to work with, but you have a bad feeling you’re the expert, and the things that are weirdly shaped are going to take longer. You take out a plastic dinosaur toy and get to work, listening with half an ear to the instructions. You don’t want to contradict anything they’re saying. It’ll slow things down, and based on the size of the toy bin, you can’t afford that.

You overhear the other supposed experts at the other table, and they seem pretty comfortable giving instructions, but you decide to keep quiet unless somebody asks you something. And somebody does. “Are girls born knowing how to gift-wrap or something?” Spinner asks, staring at the dinosaur toy you’ve successfully mummified in candy-cane wrapping paper. “How did you do that?”

“Practice, I guess?” You don’t really remember somebody teaching you. “It was probably just watching my mom.”

“Maybe you should handle all the weird-shaped shit,” Dabi says. He abandons the box he’s wrapping and starts sorting the toys in the bin. “I want to get out of here sometime this year and that’s not going to happen if you put me in charge of that.”

You nod and pick up the grotesque-looking nutcracker at the top of the pile. To your surprise, everybody else settles down to work quickly – even Tomura, who’s still scowling, and handling the wrapping paper like it might take a bite out of him. The other tables are chattering, but everybody at yours is quiet. Focused. When Midoriya swings by to pick up any wrapped gifts, he has to make two trips to collect all of them from you.

It’s not until you’re starting on the second round of presents that Tomura speaks up. “This isn’t so bad,” he says, and you almost amputate your finger in shock. “I thought it was going to be like that movie.”

“Which –” Dabi interrupts himself, then makes a weird noise. “The one where the guy’s cheating on his wife?”

“And he’s trying to get the clerk to gift-wrap that ugly necklace he bought for his mistress before his wife gets back?” That scene made you cringe. There are lots of scenes in Love Actually that make you cringe, but that one stands out. “Did he actually cheat on his wife or was he just trying to cheat?”

“He’s cheating.” Dabi measures out a huge scoop of glitter and drops it on top of the present he’s wrapping before he tapes the wrapping paper down. “My dad pulls shit exactly like that. Except he was fucking my boyfriend, not his secretary.”

You almost choke on thin air. “He – what?”

“That was ages ago,” Twice says. “They didn’t talk for like – five years. Then Dabi’s sister made them go to family therapy and now Enji makes up for it by giving Dabi money whenever he asks.”

“And when he doesn’t,” Spinner says. Dabi is making a face. “You’re better off, dude.”

“You know how Shigaraki hates Christmas? That’s how Dabi feels about Valentine’s Day,” Twice says. You probably would, too, if your dad had hooked up with your boyfriend. “If you’re still around by then, you can hang out with us. We always celebrate by maxing Enji’s credit card.”

If you’re still around by then. What does that mean? “Sounds fun,” you say, watching as Dabi adds two scoops of glitter to his next present. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“It’s there. We’re supposed to use it,” Dabi says. “The kids will get a kick out of this shit.”

“Yeah, but their parents will hate it.”

Tomura takes a scoop of glitter and pours it in the gift bag he’s been screwing around with. “It’s not about them.”

You remember who the gifts are for all at once. Kids in foster care, whose parents probably suck as a rule. They deserve to have some fun, and you’ve never met a kid who wouldn’t go crazy over a glitter bomb. When you start wrapping your next present, you add some glitter to it, too.

At some point the department heads come looking for all their employees, which is how you find out that Toga didn’t clear the meeting with anybody before she called it. Most of your table takes the opportunity to flee – Dabi first, then Twice, and Spinner after a second’s hesitation. Tomura stops halfway out of his chair when he realizes you’re not getting up. “Aren’t you leaving?”

“My supervisor hasn’t come looking for me yet,” you say. “And there’s still a lot to do.”

You know there’s work waiting for you back at your desk, but it shouldn’t take too long, and Iida’s guilt-trip about the presents definitely got to you. You empty the rest of the toy bin onto the table and grab a box with a model train printed on the front. A chair scrapes next to you as Tomura sits back down, and he lifts the train box out of your hands. “Give me that. I can’t wrap the weird ones.”

You stare at him. You can’t help it. “What are you doing?”

“My supervisor hasn’t come looking for me, either.” Tomura shrugs. “It’ll be faster if I help.”

“You hate this stuff,” you say.

“I’m not going to be the reason needy kids don’t get presents this year.” Tomura’s Iida impersonation is pretty on point, especially when he adds in Iida’s trademark hand gestures. You laugh. “And I haven’t gotten a paper cut yet. Nobody will put up with my bitching next year if I don’t get at least one.”

He says that, and it sounds like him – but somehow you don’t buy it. He’s not making eye contact, and his ears are turning sort of red, and your heart kicks up a weird, fluttery jolt. “If you want to hang out, you can just say that,” you say. “You don’t have to do – I know you hate doing this.”

“This is what you’re doing,” Tomura interrupts you. “That’s the important part.”

That one’s hard for you to parse, so hard that Tomura manages to wrap the train and start on the next gift before you can get even sort of a handle on it. And once you do, you’re not sure you want one. Tomura hates Christmas. Every Christmas thing you’ve seen him do has been done under pressure or threat, and he just got a golden opportunity to escape. Why would he give it up to hang out with you?

There’s one answer. An obvious answer. One you’d believe if it was coming from anybody but him. “I can use the help,” you admit. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Yeah.” Tomura reaches for the wrapping paper at the same time as you do, and your hands collide. You thought he’d flinch. You thought you’d flinch. But your hands stay still, poised against one another, for a long moment before Tomura draws away, his fingertips skimming the back of your hand as he goes. “Any time.”

<- part vii

[megpie71]

For people who really have trouble with not reacting to things (I'm one of them) I offer my handy hints for looking less like an intolerant buffoon on the internet.

You don't have to respond. You can just go "okay, that's obvious nonsense", and depending on the type of nonsense, skip to the next post, or if necessary, block the person posting it for a bit.

You don't have to post your response. I tend to write long rambling responses to things and then just close the window and delete them. If you have problems with not hitting "reblog", write up your response outside the Tumblr application / window - use a different program, write it up... and then, just don't post it. I have a text file which sits on my computer called "Things That Didn't Get Posted to Tumblr" which contains the half-finished rants, raves, rambles and similar that I started writing, and then didn't post. Lets me get the feelings out, lets me figure out what I'm thinking (I actually think in text, so I have to see things written down to understand what I'm thinking / feeling about a thing) but not necessarily things other people need to see.

You don't have to post your response immediately. Write it up, let it sit for a while (preferably a while where you walk away and do Something Else) before reading it again, and deciding whether it's worthy of posting. Sometimes, taking a break and coming back to something is a good way of disengaging your brain from the white-hot fury of the moment, and when you come back, you realise you've grabbed the wrong end of the stick, or that you're reacting far too strongly to someone being silly... and you can choose one of the other options instead.

Also, I would strongly urge making the most of the dashboard filtering tools available to you, like blocking people. I have a large and robust killfile, and I track why I blocked people and when. This serves two purposes - firstly, it means that a block from me isn't absolutely permanent forever and ever amen (It's usually about 6 months in the first instance, and then a further 6 months on a watchlist). Secondly, if I'm on something of a blocking spree on a particular day, it's a hint to me this might be a good time to put the Tumblr down and go do something else that's less annoying. But I will always, always have a killfile and an active block list, and I don't subscribe to people who annoy me. Doing this at least means you're not deliberately putting yourself in a position where you're getting prodded in tender places on a regular basis.

Actually, I think this does link in with a wider conversation that I have been thinking for a while Tumblr maybe needs to hear.

There's a common meme on this site now that no one here has any reading comprehension skills. The best one is, of course, the original "No offense but reading comprehension on this site is piss poor/How dare you say we piss on the poor" post, which gave rise to the nickname "pissing-on-the-poor website". There's also the "I like pancakes/How dare you say waffles are terrible" one. Both of these are great, because they're silly jokey ways to show two closely related phenomena that are probably the commonest ways to fail a reading comprehension check.

The first is someone reading certain catchphrases or buzzwords in the post, and based on their own biases or prior experiences or whatever else, their brain simply fills in what it reckons the poster is saying on the topic. Instead of reading the rest of the sentence and digesting it, the reader then just uses their assumption as the interpretation, and reacts to that.

The second is closely related, because it also uses biases and prior experiences to to interpret the post, but rather than ignoring what the OP is actually saying, it instead performs a series of gymnastic leaps to construct a whole new assertion on the OP's behalf that simply isn't there.

There's also a third, of course; that one is people being so eager to feel smug and superior over someone they perceive as Bad that they wilfully assume the OP is stupid or being serious when they're actually joking. And if the reader hadn't been so blinded by their desire to get to look down on someone, they'd have seen the very obvious tells, sometimes even including sentences like "Obviously this is a joke." (I think we have all seen examples of these. Also, in a bid to avoid as many reading comprehension fails here as possible, this does not include misunderstandings borne entirely of neurodiverse struggles to parse intentions; but, neurodiverse people are just as likely as neurotypicals to have ego play a part in their misinterpretation of others, and that is what this point is about.)

And the thing is... actually, we are all capable of any of these. I imagine a sizable chunk of people reading until this point were probably thinking "Lol, yeah, people are so stupid," but na, nage, I'm not having that. Literally everyone does these sometimes. And it becomes a particular risk when the topic under discussion is something that might brush against an issue that is a pressure point for you, like a social justice talking point that you are forever having to argue with internet strangers about, for example. Your brain holds schemas! And sometimes it likes to pattern match things before it deigns to tell you about its findings! And that can hit you right in the emotions, which if they are strong enough, really can shut down all rational thought.

But. This brings me to the real point of the post.

Because the thing is, we have all saddled up and gone to war under these conditions, or at the very least been strongly tempted to. And a vital skill that literally everyone has to learn, sooner or later, is:

Before you hit 'reply', double check the post to make sure you fucking understood it.

And that does not mean "simply re-read, confirm your bias, carry on." It means, "Is it possible to read this post from the point of view of someone who doesn't intend it the way I've taken it? If I put myself in the shoes of an innocent, could they still have written these words? Is there another interpretation for these phrases?"

And you do have to do this step. You simply do have to. Because if your desire is to 'clap back' and call someone a gargling knobskin made of garbage, fuck me sideways but you must see that it is imperative that you check if they actually deserve that kind of treatment first. You cannot spend your time claiming that we must all choose to be kind and then not bother doing your due diligence before screaming a person's various and assorted bigotries at them. If you misread it, and they were innocent - you are the raging aggressive cunt in this situation.

It does not matter that you reacted from an emotional place of normally having to defend yourself either, by the way. Sure, that makes the quality of your human soul better than that of the average Redditor who just enjoys anonymously hurting people, I guess? But it's also irrelevant. If you messaged someone and called them a misogynist because you performed several mental somersaults and landed on your own sore spot when they meant no such thing, you are the attacker. You owe them an apology. And yeah, sure, you can explain your over-reaction as the product of your normal experiences if you like, but that is only an explanation, not an excuse. You are still the asshole here. You still need to apologise and mean it.

And you could have avoided it if you'd done that due diligence, as you should have. If you're going to take a swing, make sure it's the right target. This was once described to me as donkey people - they don't think, they just kick. This is admittedly a little unkind to donkeys, who always do their due diligence, but I feel it's an apt metaphor.

TL;DR: If you feel moved to angrily reply to something, first make sure you've interpreted it right. Don't be a donkey person. And if you ask for clarification, people are innocent until proven guilty. Ask nicely. If they are a bigot, you can then smelt them for parts.

[lexirosewrites]

O!Steve & B!Robin as childhood friends!! Not Nancy Wheeler Friendly bc this is from a protective Robin POV & I needed drama & No Upside Down AU

They meet when Robin skips 4th grade & become friends when they're paired together for a project. Steve is a Henderson bc his mom divorced his sire Richard Harrington & Steve didn't want to b a Harrington anymore he wanted to have his mom's maiden name. He & his mom moved to Hawkins the week before school started.

Steve is chubby & a boy omega (which is rare especially in Hawkins Elementary where only two other boys in the grades below r omegas) which makes him different & he's not very good at reading aloud but he still gets some of the best scores on their social studies or history lessons & his scent is still muted like the kids younger than them. So he isn't popular but he isn't overtly bullied but he is largely ignored by the kids w more social capital.

So he & Robin bond abt being treated as outcasts. They quickly become best friends & spend as much time together outside of school as they can except every other Sunday bc Steve's mom drives a few towns away in Roane County to the nearest Episcopal church.

Robin was raised Buddhist bc her mom is a child of Vietnamese immigrants & her dad was an anti-war protester (especially after he gets drafted into Vietnam, causing him to lose his left leg). The Buckleys celebrate a vague Christmas tht they treat more like Yule with Father Winter instead of Santa, presents still happen but Robin is expected to choose a few of her gifts to give to a nearby domestic violence shelter where some kids stay.

Then high school starts. Steve has his first heat the summer before & so his scent matures to smell like baked apples w honey. He loses a bit of the baby fat, his face gets clearer of acne he'd developed in 7th grade, & his hair is noticeably more shiny. This means Steve is suddenly the subject of new attention by some of the beta boys & alphas of Hawkins High. It all makes Steve uncomfortable so Robin stops trimming her nails & even files them sharper when at home. She shows off her newly sharp nails when she scratches up the arms of an alpha senior who wasn't taking Steve's polite refusals as an answer, tearing up their jacket sleeves, & even ripping a big hole in the bottom of their backpack so all their things tumbled out.

After tht word spread quickly tht Steve Henderson had a guard, Robin Buckley. So the attention turned from a rush to a trickle.

A!Tommy Hagan tries harassing Steve in their sophomore year & calling it courting but Robin tells B!Carol Perkins tht Tommy is trying to cheat on her & together they scratch Tommy so deeply he gets scars. Sophomore year is also when Steve begins babysitting for extra cash. He starts w his little cousin Dustin, then the Sinclairs hire him every other Saturday night, & the list grows till Steve is having Robin help him keep a planner just to keep track of his babysitting gigs.

Then junior year brings abt a Steve who is the uncontested prettiest omega in school & the attention gets worse. Except now ppl know to try to get Robin's approval. She doesn't make it easy & this weeds out the ppl who only wanted a chance to say they'd popped Steve's cherry.

This works till A!Nancy Wheeler sets her sights on Steve. Nancy does practically every task Robin gives her w minimal complaints, so Robin gives Nancy the chance to actually court Steve. Except it quickly becomes clear to Robin tht Nancy didn't seem all tht interested in learning more abt steve outside of who he was in the schools social ladder. Robin would watch how Nancy flaunted their relationship to others to establish a growing social status but would then make eyes at B!Jonathan Byers, The Creep as others called him.

When O!Will Byers goes missing (later being found kidnapped by his father) & B!Barb runs away while the town is focused on tht, Nancy becomes more & more disinterested in Steve. Apparently insisting to Steve tht Barb was her best friend & tht she would've told Nancy if she was going to run away. Robin snorts when Steve tells her this bc it was obvious to Robin their friendship was a one way street of Nancy getting what she wanted.

So of course Nancy embarrasses herself & Steve at Tina's Halloween party the next year, after a year of growing colder towards Steve & leading him on & insisting to them both tht Jonathan is just a friend. Of course Nancy runs off w Byers after the whisper of a lead on where Barb had gone reaches her ears, of course she comes back smelling like Byers in a way tht made it clear she'd had sex w him & only then breaking up w Steve & worst of all is how Steve doesn't get angry with Nancy or Jonathan.

It all gets more annoying when Steve is newly single & knot headed A!Billy Hargrove tries approaching Steve when no one else is around. He never offers to exclusively court Steve & he never approaches Robin abt it either. He just follows Steve to secluded corners of the school or town & makes comments when no one is around to hear him.

Eventually they graduate, Robin decides to put off going away for college opting instead to take classes part time at the Roane County Community College w Steve. Billy Hargrove races out of town after he beats his father in the Hargroves front lawn, Mr Hargrove leaves town soon after but his wife & step daughter the Mayfields stay in Hawkins. Robin only learns most of this thanks to Steve being Max's babysitter now

for two weeks of the summer Nancy tries to court Steve again, claiming she'd changed but this is after Jonathan Byers learns tht Nancy hadn't broken up w Steve till after their fruitless attempt to convince Barb to come home led to them sleeping together & so he breaks up w her unable to believe she'd hurt Steve in the way his own father had hurt his mom

They get jobs at the mall in the food court. Then the larger parent company of their employer Scoops Ahoy gets shut down by the government for tax evasion & tax fraud & a whole list of illegal labor practices so they find new jobs at the Cinema-plex in the same mall. Then the mall burns down bc the construction was cheap & several safety regulations were blatantly ignored. So they find another job they can work together. This time at Family Video, after an interview w Keith (whose parents own the small strip mall where the laundromat & the arcade & video store r located) wherein Robin said her favorite movie was a German silent film she knew Keith would know nothing abt & Steve equally stumped Keith w a samurai movie tht Robin knew didn't circulate in the US, Ms Henderson had gotten the VHS of the movie shipped to Hawkins through friends in the UK.

Time went on, they took their classes at the small community college, Steve still babysat here & there, & the platonic soulmates were even apartment hunting in their free time. Settling on the relatively affordable rent of a 2 bed trailer in Forest Hills.

That's where Eddie Munson pops into their lives. Apparently he'd met Steve once or twice when Steve had come by to babysit Max. Now tht the pair lived so close by Munson he took to being a welcome committee. A couple of months of living in the trailer park, hanging out w Eddie who had begun working at the local mechanics instead of racing out of town like Hargrove, & buying the odd joint from the alpha at an obviously reduced price. Munson made his move & approached Robin on a day tht she was working without Steve.

The alpha was visibly nervous but determined & he didn't even shrink away when Robin glared him down for 5 minutes in silence. So she sighed & gave him a random task tht she knew Steve would like to see. This went on & on, Eddie growing closer w Steve & when Steve told Robin he wanted to b courted by their neighbor she delivered the news to Eddie w her best friend right behind her.

The pair courted for 2 years before Steve sat her down & told her he was pregnant just abt 2 months along & tht he & Eddie were going to exchange bites before the due date & tht they wanted to move in together. Robin was silent bc they were supposed to leave for Portland tht spring, so tht she could attend college & Steve could get a cosmetology license, they were supposed to remain together into their old age. She didn't even realize tht she'd nearly gone into a srs beta drop till it was the next morning & she was being held by Steve in his nest.

Over breakfast sandwiches in bed Steve explained tht she had dropped before Steve could tell her tht if she approved Eddie was going to drive to Portland two weeks before they planned to leave & get a 3 bedroom apartment set up. If she didnt approve Eddie was still going to drive there early but just find an apartment for stobin & another apartment for himself. They talked for hours abt how Steve didn't want to b best friends w anyone except Robin & his alpha, how Robin had been scared for awhile abt Steve leaving her, & it ended w them having a movie night where they ordered Eddie to pick up a pizza & sodas & the biggest order of chicken tenders possible

7 months later after a home birth in Portland Oregon, Robin cried when she got to meet her best friends twin babies & learned tht they'd named the youngest of the baby girls Janis Robin Munson while the older twin was Joan Cathy Munson (Cathy was Eddie's mom's name & coincidentally grandma Henderson's name)

& Aunty Robin became the Munson pups favorite babysitter 🥰

Robin being protective of omega Steve is always so lovely💕💕💕

[itsthecline]

WONDERING WHY

0.1 BOYFRIEND

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ summary omit ( verb. ) to leave out or exclude someone / something , either intentionally or forgetfully

word count 4k

warnings our girl is lowkey a brat but i think that’s it other than christian!reader , kook!reader , classism , and allusions to a bad previous relationship

previous chapter

a/n i ended up writing a bunch for this series already , and so here’s the first actual chapter relatively quick after the prologue post:)

THURSDAY MORNINGS usually meant you could sleep in a little later— closer to nine than eight. today , however , you were up at six to get ready for your packed day. you texted jj , reminding him to be here at ten o’clock sharp. no later.

you filled your morning with a jog around the neighborhood , helping your mother make breakfast , and dropping your younger sister off at her friend’s house for a girls day they were having. after that , you had to— for your own sake , go over the checklist of meetings and dinners that you needed to attend before midsummers one more time.

by the time 9:30 rolled around , you were dressed and ready to go down to the tailor for your first fitting. you checked your phone again , seeing if jj had even read your text yet. delivered. maybe he didn’t have his read receipts on.

he’d be here. he’d show up.

that was all you could really tell yourself.

on the other side of the island , jj was just waking up. he jolted awake , face indented from the way he fell asleep on the pillows the night before. he reached over for his phone , looking to see what time it was.

the screen didn’t light up. he quickly shuffled , hand fumbling down the charger cord to see it had been unplugged from the wall. “fuck!” he cursed , shoving himself up from the bed and rushing down the stairs.

“yo , what time is it?” he shouted , hoping one of his many friends would answer him. they all looked over their shoulders from the living room , seeing the blonde stumble around , yanking his clothes and boots on.

“its like quarter to ten,” pope called back out , looking down at his watch.

“fuckkkk!” jj groaned , grabbing the keys to the van, “i’m late! takin’ the twinkie!” he announced , shoving through the front door and bounding down the porch steps. he didn’t even bother to close the door on the way out , instead just hopping behind the van’s wheel and peeling off to figure eight.

kie came around the corner , a couple of water bottles for her friends. “what was that about?” she hummed , looking out the open door.

“he has that thing with the pastor’s kid,” john b answered with a smug smile , grabbing the bottle being held out to him, “he told us ‘bout it yesterday , remember?”

“ohhh , yeah!” kie mused , mind replaying yesterday’s events at the wreck, “she’s cute.”

“she’s also way too polite for jj,” sarah laughed , stealing the water from her husband, “i mean , i remember her from school , and she was just so shy. kept to herself and all that.”

pope shook his head , swallowing down more of his cereal, “nah , they used to be friends way back when though.”

“what?” the girls all gasped.

“rude boy was friends with that shy thing from kie’s parents’ place?” cleo asked , only just ‘meeting’ you yesterday but still as invested.

pope and john b nodded together , recalling a time before high school when jj would skip out on their hangouts to do something with you. ‘family friend , guys. i feel bad,’ he’d lie to them , getting out of whatever they had planned to spend time with you instead.

the group continued theorizing what jj was helping you with , not getting the complete story from him the day before. all the while he was speeding across the island to get to your door before it was ten o’clock. his blue eyes kept darting to the dashboard’s clock , seeing his time run out faster and faster. 9:57 , and he was just now getting to figure eight.

“mom , if jj shows up , will you tell him i’m sick?” you asked quietly , walking into the kitchen where she was working on her laptop.

she peered up at you over her glasses. “jj maybank , your boyfriend?” she smiled , patting for you to sit next to her in the breakfast nook as she was still over the moon from your news earlier in the week, “what’s he coming over to do?”

“he’s not invited anymore,” you corrected her , resting your chin on her shoulder as you looked at her computer screen. it was a spreadsheet , an itinerary for the next weeks approaching midsummers. “he’s late , so i’m upset.”

“well , you can’t blame him , hon,” your mother cooed at you, “he’s probably on the way. give him more than two minutes.” you held back from rolling your eyes at her soft spot for the boy after all of these years. after all of the tears she wiped away from your cheeks when you were fourteen.

“will you tell him i’m sick?” you pleaded again , pulling at the sleeves of her robe like a little kid.

she pressed a kiss to your forehead and tutted at you. “no , baby. we don’t lie in this house,” she answered , going back to typing and organizing on her laptop.

you huffed and pushed yourself out of the booth , straighten out your skirt. “fine , but i’m not happy about this,” you whined , beginning to walk out of the kitchen.

her voice called out your name again as she leaned forward to catch a glimpse of you. you stopped , turning to face her expectantly. “i think it’s a good thing you chose to give him a second chance.”

“yeah,” you sighed , guilt boiling in your gut , ignoring her knowing smile before walking to the front door. you’d just have to go to the fitting by yourself.

as you stepped outside , you could hear the rattle of a car nearing you from the street. it was loud enough to get your attention , telling you whoever was driving was going far too fast for the residential area. next thing you know , the beat up van you knew as john b’s twinkie was pulling into your driveway.

your hand raised above your sight line , blocking the sun so you could glare at jj. “didn’t get my twelve texts?” you asked him , watching as he practically fell out of the van upon his arrival which caused your embarrassment from the amount of times you tried contacting him to simmer.

“i’m sorry! my phone never got plugged in , s’my alarm didn’t go off. the damn twinkie gave out a couple blocks away , and i had to start ‘er back up—“ jj huffed out before you decided to just get in your car. he watched you , already feeling your disappointment.

you rolled down the passenger window , leaning over. “get in , please? we’re late,” you spoke , like you had already forgiven him , which you had. you saw how he was out of breath and the fresh grease stains on his fingers. it wasn’t his fault he was late.

jj ripped the door open , flopping into the passenger seat before buckling up. “where we headed , angel?” he asked you , already poking around in the car’s abundance of compartments.

“the tailor. we have to get you measured for your tux,” you simply answered , backing out of your driveway, “and i have to get re-measured too.”

jj nodded , chewing at his lip , and he couldn’t help but feel like you were giving him the cold shoulder. he was only eight minutes late. but maybe he just didn’t know you anymore. you spoke so much differently than you did from when you were kids , your voice clearer , more affirming. it sounded more like this was a business deal than an old friend doing an old friend a favor.

“it’s kinda like you’re my sugar momma for the next couple’a weeks,” jj chuckled to lighten to mood as you drive through the town’s center , eyeing all of the nice shops he never went to. it’s not like he wanted , but it was another reminder how differently you two grew up from each other.

you scoffed over your small laugh. “i guess so. in a weird way , yeah,” you agreed lightly , finding a parking spot right in front of the business you were going to, “just make sure to use your manners , please. katherine is friends with my dad and a huge gossip.”

“oh , yes , ma’am,” jj saluted you, “i will be prim and proper just for you , m’lady.” he got out of the car as you let out a shaky breath. you followed shortly after , seeing he was already holding the door open. “c’mon , you said we’re in a rush!”

you nudged him with your elbow when you stepped inside the small store. “i only said that so you’d hurry up. we don’t even have an appointment,” you admitted with a chuckle , picking up a pen at the front desk to sign in.

jj’s jaw dropped , letting out a gasp. “miss goodie-two-shoes lied?” he whisper yelled , hand coming to his heart, “is the world ending?”

“hush up,” you bit back , moving about the store as he followed you around like a lost puppy. he wasn’t about to go snooping around figure eight. he didn’t want to deal with it any more than he’d already agreed to.

“y/n! ah , so wonderful to see you , honey!” katherine’s shrill voice echoed through the building as she rushed to the front with her hands high and wide. you barely had time to smile back at her before she yanked you in for a hug. “you know , i’ve been waiting for your behind to get in here for your measurements for weeks!” she cried , guiding you to the back , not even sparing your blonde companion a second glance. you did though , catching jj standing there awkwardly in the front of the store.

“katherine , this is jj,” you interrupted her chatter , stopping to reach back and grab the boy’s hand, “i called about getting him set up with a tux for midsummers?”

katherine’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when she took in who you were holding onto. “jj maybank…” she hummed , knowing exactly the reputation he and his father carried around, “i didn’t realize he was your plus one this year.”

you could hear the condescension in her voice , and by the tightening grip on your delicate hand , you knew jj could too. “well , he’s my boyfriend so…” you trailed off , waiting for katherine to just do her job and stop being like every other kook on the island. you never understood why your father considered her such a close friend. she was snippy and fake , and it was clear to you since the day you met.

“oh!” she smiled, “well come on back.” she turned to lead you both to the fitting areas , calling out her husband’s name to help out with jj’s measurements.

“boyfriend?” jj whispered to you , still holding your hand.

“didn’t i mention that?” you played dumb , knowing very well you left that little piece of information out yesterday when you got him to accept the deal.

“no , angel,” he shook his head , pulling you to a stop, “that’s like five hangouts worth! i only agreed because it was supposed to be one night of helpin’ ya out! and now you’re tellin’ me i gotta pretend to be your boyfriend too?” your hand reached up to cover jj’s mouth , looking around to make sure no one heard you.

“can we talk later?” you asked him , pleading eyes that begged him to leave it be for now.

but jj just scoffed , dropping your hand and flipping the curtain out of the way to follow after katherine.

YOU HADN’T heard a peep from the men’s parlor. katherine had been chatting in your ear the entire time she measured you , talking about everyone and everything. she mentioned having your family over to her house for dinner soon , which you made a mental note to bring up to your father when you got home later.

but you couldn’t help but think about jj behind the thick , velvet curtain. you heard katherine’s husband muttering every once in awhile , but never jj’s voice. was he actually mad at you? it was all pretend , and it would end right after midsummers. what was the big deal? he had done far worse things to you than omit some facts.

after long enough , katherine decided you didn’t even need to come in at all. “measurements are the same as last year , darling. you wasted your time here today,” she declared , sending the bill to your father’s account all while sending you an underlying message.

you shouldn’t have brought that maybank kid here.

“well , jj needed to get fitted too,” you smiled sweetly, “no harm done by comin’ in.” you were always deemed a nice girl. you were a nice girl , but there was only so much hidden snottiness you could deal with from certain people before becoming just as passive aggressive as them. “i’m actually going to go check on him,” you spoke , already turning to head back his way.

“she tells me we’re dating out of the blue , man! i don’t know what she was thinking , but she’s outta her mind!” you could finally hear jj’s cadence followed by marcus’ belly laugh.

“women,” he chuckled, “i’ll tell you right now , it doesn’t get any better. happy wife , happy life. get used to it , kid,” he advised the younger man , patting his shoulders before letting him know they were all done.

you stepped through the curtain , ignoring the tinge of hurt jj’s words caused in your heart while the metal loops glided across the curtain rod to announce your presence. “let’s go , jj.” you held your hand out to him , not giving him an option of taking his time. he could tell from the way your neck was stiff that something had upset you , so he wasted no time yanking his jeans back on. he didn’t want to be the reason for your cold attitude again. at least not for the rest of the day.

you dragged him out of the store , not sparing katherine a goodbye. you got in the car , buckling up as jj did the same before driving off in silence. it wasn’t long before you were driving through the streets of figure eight , being the only car on the road.

jj was poking around your glove compartment again , flipping through the owner’s manual to fill the car ride. he jumped and dropped the book to the floorboards when you let out a scream. he jolted and look over at you , watching the way your face nearly turned red from the air you were expelling from your body.

“yo , yo!” he shouted at you.

you took a deep breath , closing your eyes when you came to a stop sign. “sorry,” you mumbled , catching your breath still, “i just really , really dislike katherine! she’s so mean and snotty and two-faced! like , she was makin’ comments the entire time just poking at me!” you ranted , not caring that jj just saw you let out a scream you’d been holding in for about a week, “and don’t get me started on all of her implications about you.”

jj was still taken aback , not too sure what to say. he’d never seen you unravel like that before. he’d never thought you could. “um— well , at least we got it outta the way…” he tried to help the situation.

“yeah,” you nodded breathlessly , beginning to drive again like nothing had happened.

after a few more minutes of awkward silence , jj decided to speak up again , not forgetting what you tabled earlier. “boyfriend , huh?”

you sighed. you had forgotten about the conversation you still needed to have with him , so blinded by your frustrations. “yeah , so maybe my parents assumed that when i told them i had a date for midsummers last week , it was a boyfriend? and maybe i happened to leave that out when asking you to come with me?”

“oh , really?” jj feigned surprised, “i didn’t notice!”

“i’m sorry!” you cried, “but my dad wouldn’t stop bothering me about a date and then it all snowballed.” the pitch in your voice and pout in your lips made jj frown for a moment before focusing.

“i didn’t agree to playing house , princess,” jj reminded you , and your stomach dropped.

you pulled into the driveway , parking the car before shifting to look at him. “are you mad at me? you’re still gonna come to midsummers , right?” you needed him to say yes.

jj thought about it , not giving you any idea if he was backing out now or not. “five— no , six hangouts , and you have to come to a kegger,” he decided , nodding to himself. he felt like it was fair enough. if he would have to prance around figure eight as your arm candy for the next two weeks , you would have to start experiencing some of the cut. it was only right. a true balance he thought.

“but i don’t—“

“ah , ah ah!” he interrupted you , pressing a finger to your lips, “you’re not really in a position to negotiate , princess. i’m callin’ the shots now. if you want me to be your fake boyfriend for two weeks , i want you to start tagging along with the pogues. if not , you can just forget this whole thing.”

you stared at jj still surprised he touched your mouth. “i—“ you sighed , sitting back against your seat, “fine , but i’m not drinking or smoking or nothing.” you crossed your arms over your chest , making it clear you weren’t about to be pushed around on this anymore.

and he didn’t know why , but jj grinned. he knew this would all probably fall apart and cause a few problems— it was just what usually happened when he was involved in schemes , but he was excited. it would give him something to do for the next few weeks.

“pleasure doin’ business with ya , angel,” he smirked , climbing out of your car. he bent over , leaning down to the window. “now don’t just go around tellin’ everyone i’m taking your virginity or nothin’ either. i’ll play boyfriend , but i won’t have everyone thinking i’m corrupting father y/l/n’s precious daughter.”

your face crinkled up at jj’s words before you rolled up the window he was in. “excuse me?” you gasped , getting out of the car and rushing around to his side before smacking at him.

he laughed , blocking himself from the rapid but weak hits from your little purse. “i’m kidding!” he cackled , knowing it was a risky joke , but he had taken far greater risks with less rewards than pushing your buttons.

“you are so dirty , jj!” you huffed , getting one last thwack in at him, “maybe i’ll find a different date.”

“good luck with that,” jj breathed out , taking a step back in case you swung the bag at him again, “no one will put up with that little attitude of yours.”

“i do not have an attitude!” you argued back , flicking a few hairs out of your face, “you just make nasty comments.”

“jj , come on. we’re leaving!” he mimicked you , using his girl voice and waving his hands around, “that don’t sound familiar?” he questioned , hands on his hips after his performance.

you rolled your eyes , seeing that it probably wasn’t too far off. you weren’t blind to the fact that you were a little stuck up. it was never nasty or hateful , but you demanded a certain level of perfection from nearly everything in your life. “whatever , i don’t sound like that,” you finally spoke up , avoiding jj’s gaze, “thank you for showing up today.”

“you’re welcome , princess,” he smiled back , glad you were finally taking a joke, “i’ll text you whenever we’re gonna hangout,” he added with a thumbs up sent your way before hopping back into the twinkie. you watched him drive off before slipping back into your house.

jj couldn’t help but beat his thumb on the steering wheel to the radio’s tune , chuckling a little as he drove through the stop sign you were just screaming at. he’d missed so much of your life , that he hadn’t really gotten a good idea of who you were now. you were still girly and spoiled , but you were funnier than before— a natural humor that took control of your words and behaviors every now and then.

but then jj remembered why you were no longer friends , and his demeanor shifted , pissed off at himself for even saying yes yesterday to begin with. he knew this wouldn’t end well. john b said that last night after jj went to him about the situation too.

it was a disaster just waiting to happen.

hell , you were probably only doing this whole act to piss off your dad while still giving him what he wanted. the idea alone keyed jj up , feeling used now when he hadn’t thought to be before.

“yo , john!” he shouted , stomping into the house.

the brunette popped out from the living room , hardly moving from his position earlier when jj had left. “yes?” john b replied carefully , watching as jj kicked his boots off , clearly frustrated by something. he assumed it had to do with you , but had no idea what you could’ve done in two hours.

jj moved through the house , heading up to his room , hearing his friend follow him up. “you really think i’m gonna fall for that shit like i did last time?” he finally asked after shutting the door. he didn’t need any extra ears hearing his conversation.

john b furrowed his brows. what had you done to him? in two hours? “i don’t know , man. what happened today?” he joined his blonde friend on the bed , getting comfortable.

“so not only do i have to go to this fucking kook festival , right?” jj began , hearing john b’s quiet ‘you agreed to that’ but continuing to rant, “now i have to pretend to be her boyfriend! because she fuckin’ told her parents ‘bout dating me!”

“she what?” john b cracked up , not able to hold back his laughter just to spare jj some dignity, “why the hell would she do that? doesn’t her dad hate you or something?”

“yeah!” jj scoffed , silently thanking his friend for understanding.

“okay , but her mom loves you,” john b added , deciding he’d play devil’s advocate.

“yeah,” jj nodded , seeing the point, “but we haven’t spoken in years , and now she’s all like ‘be my fake boyfriend’ and ‘go to the prom with me’ and shit!” parroting your voice like he had done in your driveway.

it wasn’t the time , but john b kept chuckling at his friend. “man , i think you’re reading too deep into it. she needed a favor. you’re helping her out. that’s all,” he reasoned , sitting up in the bed now, “i know i told you to be wary , but i didn’t mean get paranoid. don’t get your panties in a twist because you have problems and she doesn’t.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” jj questioned , not expecting john b to turn on him. sarah or kie maybe. cleo and pope definitely , but not him.

john b sighed , rolling his eyes at how oblivious his friend was. “you’ve got residual shit coming up right now pretending to be some kook’s boyfriend , dude. you’re gonna have to handle that shit before you take it out on y/n. she seems nice enough to not fuck you over like camille,” he calmly explained , standing to leave, “besides it’s all fake anyway.” the boy simply patted jj’s shoulder before exiting the room , leaving jj to process his words alone with the name he tried his best to forget swirling in his mind on a loop.

meanwhile , back at your house , your sister had brought her friend over upon hearing certain details about your life she wanted to ask you about. you didn’t even make it up the stairs to your room before bella and her friend , olivia , were harassing you.

“why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend is jj? why didn’t you tell me you have a boyfriend?” bella shrieked in your ear , barging into your room after you. you sighed , tossing your purse onto your vanity before turning to face her.

“i didn’t tell you because it’s not your business,” you explained softly, “it’s not a big deal. i didn’t even want to tell mom and dad,” you admitted.

“wait— why not?” olivia wondered , sitting down on your bed with you and your sister.

“well , jj isn’t exactly dad’s favorite person,” you began , getting comfortable. you didn’t mind the intrusion from the younger girls. you actually enjoyed their company , so you had no problem telling them all about your errand with jj.

“but he’s sooo cute!” olivia whined , annoyed that you were so adamant about not actually liking him like that after you told them about the whole ruse.

“and he was always really nice to me,” bella added to their case. they were currently trying to convince you to really date him , even after telling them he never liked you like that.

you laughed at their interest but shook your head. “no , i don’t think i’ll ever actually date jj maybank,” you whispered , letting the words sink in. this was all fake. it was a favor. nothing more. you had to keep remembering that , or everything would fall apart , and you’d be stuck in high school , craving his attention all over again.

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @dcllhearts @snowtargaryen

[sk1nnyh03m4xine]

For me holiday is the best time of the year to skip food. My bio family never makes food I like. I see other families making tradicional dishes from where they come, my family is from Philipines but moved to Spain, we don't eat anything traditional from any of both.

Instead, my family goes to the market and sees what's more expensive. Prawns, octopus, cod, crabs. . . Anything that's expensive, they buy it. Then serve it in the worst way possible.

The only things I get to eat are a small plate of octopus w boiled potato and maybe a small piece of cod.

Desserts? I've been my whole life without being thought on Chrismas dinners, so they never even allowed me to bring my own food wich allways means that I mostly don't eat on Chrismas dinners.

Even on bday meals, nothing is thought out of my aunt and her daughter. And it would be okay if they organized everything, but who organizes everything is allways my mom or my uncle. One of my cousins complained about that.

At least, I get to skip meals with them right in front of them.

we’ve got this.

i know the holidays can be a difficult time.

but we have each other.

we are skinny.

[inkedinshadows]

An Angel on the Ice

A/N: happy @acotargiftexchange to you, @duskandcobalt! I'm your Secret Santa, finally here with your gift! I had so much fun getting to know you and your love for this wonderful couple. I'm so so sorry I made you wait till the very end, I've been busier than I expected. BUT!! I have a second little surprise coming for you in the next few days (probably on Christmas day). I came up with the idea while writing this fic, but I didn't know how to include it here, so it'll be a little drabble on its own. Without further ado, here's your gift. Enjoy! And congratulations for guessing what Az's surprise was!

Pairing: Azriel x Elain

Summary: Azriel takes Elain to the Illyrian mountains for a romantic surprise.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, fluff, FLUFF

The cold winter air hit Elain in the face as she stepped out of the little art shop and onto the street.

The snow that had fallen during the night still coated the cobblestones, blanketing everything in a thin layer of soft white. It had brought along the cold, so freezing that her wool hat did little to warm her.

Azriel followed her outside, a wing already curling protectively around her, drawing her closer to his side. Except he was carrying the bags full of the presents they'd bought for their family, and she was still walking a couple feet away from him.

“You know, you don't have to carry all of the bags,” she said, reaching out with a gloved hand to relieve him of some weight. “I can hold some.”

He moved his hand further away, out of her reach. “I know you can, angel,” he said with a soft smile. “I just don't want you to. You're cold. You should keep your hands in your pockets.”

“I'm wearing gloves,” she pointed out, though she didn't try to grab the bags again. She knew Azriel wouldn't let her. “I'm not cold.”

A small dimple appeared on his cheek as he smirked at her. Even after months together, Elain's heart skipped a beat at the sight, her fingers twitching at her side with the urge to touch it and place a soft kiss there.

“Then why are your nose and cheeks red?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “My sister was right. You Illyrians really are overprotective mother hens.”

Yet even as she said it, her hands slid back into the pockets of her coat. Azriel's smirk grew at the movement, but he didn't comment.

“We have to earn that title somehow,” he said instead. Elain laughed, and his smile became softer. “Let's go home.”

Home. There was a time when she'd thought the Night Court would never be her home. Only three years ago, it had felt impossible. Turned Fae against her will, shoved at a male she didn't know or want, with powers she had no idea how to control, and a broken engagement on top of it all… she'd felt hopeless.

But as she'd learned how to accept and navigate her new life, Azriel had been there to help her through it. Something had slowly changed between them, a feeling that grew inside her until she could no longer pretend it wasn't there. But acting on it had led to a denied kiss in the dead of the longest night of the year. A broken heart, that feeling of hopelessness again, and then the explanation, the argument with Rhysand, the rejection of her mating bond.

Elain stole a glance at Azriel. Just a Winter Solstice ago, he had told her it had been a mistake. And now here he was, carrying their bags full of presents, on their way to the small house they'd bought a few months ago.

“You're staring, angel.”

She couldn't help the smile that blossomed on her lips. “You're just so beautiful to look at.”

She knew the effect the words would have on him, but by the Mother, she would never get tired of the way his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. It was visible even now, when they were already reddened by the cold. It happened every time she called him beautiful, and it was one of the many things she loved about him.

“How many presents do you still have to buy?” she asked him, changing the topic to make him feel more comfortable. If they were at home, she might have teased him about his blush, but not in public.

“Just a couple,” he answered, the flush already disappearing from his cheeks. “But I know what I'll get them. The only one I miss is Cassian.”

“You can always get him beef jerky this year too,” she joked, avoiding an ice patch on the cobblestones.

Azriel glanced at her. She knew he was making sure she didn't slip on the street. Overprotective mother hen, indeed. Yet she immediately stepped back into the warmth of his wing around her.

“I might, actually,” he finally replied, no hint of joking in his voice.

She turned her head to look at him, her brow furrowed. But he looked completely serious. “You can't gift him beef jerky, Az! Two years in a row at that.”

“Why not? He likes it.”

Elain shook her head in disbelief. “Because he's your brother. You always come home with a new present for me, but you can't think of anything different for your brother?”

Azriel smirked. “I'm not in love with my brother, angel.”

It was her turn to blush now. She knew he loved her, of course. They'd said it before a thousand times. But Azriel had his own way of saying it when she least expected it — reminding her whenever he could, catching her off guard and making her heart beat faster every single time.

“You know that's not what I meant,” she mumbled. She preceded him up the few steps to their front door, her fingers stiff even inside the gloves. She fumbled with the key for a moment before she managed to turn it in the lock.

The warmth of the living room welcomed her inside, the smell of the bread she'd baked that morning still lingering in the air.

“It can be difficult to come up with something new and different after five hundred years,” Azriel said as he followed her in. He set the bags down before turning to face her. “You'll see.”

Elain took off her gloves, then her hat, his words swirling in her mind. “You know, it used to scare me,” she mused. “The thought of having eternity in front of me.”

Azriel watched her carefully. “But now it doesn’t?”

She shook her head, stepping closer. “No.” Her arms wrapped around him, and she rested her chin on his chest, tilting her head up to look at him. “Because now I get to spend it with you.”

His throat bobbed. She was the one who'd caught him off guard this time. At a loss of words, Azriel buried his fingers in her hair, angling her head so he could lean down and capture her lips in a kiss that left her dizzy. The kind of kiss that usually meant they would take things up to the bedroom. Or whatever nearest surface they could find.

But he pulled back instead. Elain's heart was already racing in her chest, and she was rising on her toes for another kiss when he spoke again.

“I have a surprise for you.”

She stopped, lowering herself onto her feet. “Winter Solstice is still a week away.”

With the holidays nearing, he’d stopped getting her little gifts out of nowhere. He said he wanted to wait because everything had to be perfect this year. Their first Solstice together.

“It's not a present,” he replied. His hand slid from her hair to her cheek, and she had trouble focusing as his thumb brushed her lip. “It's something I want to do with you. I wanted to wait till Solstice, but now it just feels like the right moment.”

Elain could only nod. “Okay,” she whispered.

His chuckle was a low rumble that resonated deep in her chest. “What happened, angel?” he asked softly. “Where did your voice go?”

“You're… distracting me.”

It took her a moment to snap out of it, to find the strength to step back and let his hand fall away from her face. But she didn't miss his smug grin at her admission.

She cleared her throat, trying to clear her mind as well and focus on Azriel’s surprise. “What do you want to do?” she asked as she reached for the first button of her coat.

Azriel's hand gently caught hers to stop her. “Keep it on,” he said. “We need to go back outside.” At her curious look, he added, “I want to take you to Rhys's cabin.”

Well, that was certainly a surprise.

“Rhys's cabin?” she repeated, even as she slid her gloves back on. “Why?”

He smiled, offering her the hat she'd hung on the coat rack. “It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, angel.”

“Right,” she chuckled. She made sure to grab a warm scarf as well this time before silently offering him her gloved hand.

Azriel took it in his larger one, and then they were winnowing out of Velaris and deep into Illyrian territory.

The first thing Elain noticed was the cold, her breath forming a faint puff in the air. Then she took in the snow that covered everything, white and bright under the afternoon sun.

Azriel's hand tightened around hers, and he guided her toward the cabin just a few yards away. The snow reached their calves, and never before had Elain been so glad to be wearing boots.

“I'm starting to question why you brought me here,” she mumbled, struggling to wade through the snow even as she followed directly in the path his footsteps left behind.

“I'm sorry, angel,” he replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I promise it'll be worth it.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, sizing her up as if he was pondering picking her up and carrying her to the cabin. But a few more steps finally brought them to the door, and he ushered her inside.

Her breath caught as she looked up.

Every wall was covered in paint, drawings in a style that she immediately recognized as her sister’s.

“Are those…?”

Azriel nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “Yes. Feyre painted them.” He let go of her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Wait here. I’ll get what we need.”

Elain watched him disappear down the hallway, wings tucked tight against his back. She sank onto the couch, admiring her sister’s artwork all over the room, its colors adding warm to the otherwise bare place.

Azriel was back in a matter of minutes, two pairs of shoes in his hands.

As he walked closer and took a seat next to her, she noticed the thin blades attached to the soles. She frowned even as she accepted the pair that he offered her. “What are these exactly?”

He was already working on swapping his boots with the new ones. “You’re asking a lot of questions today,” he quipped with a smile. “Put them on, angel. They’re Mor’s, but they should fit you. You’ll find out what they're for soon enough.”

Elain let out a dramatic sigh, hiding her own smile as she leaned down to take off her boots. “You’re lucky I love you, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I never once doubted it, angel.”

When she was done, he helped her stand, giving her just enough time to balance herself on those strange boots before he winnowed them again. She instinctively gripped his arm to steady herself as they reappeared on the shore of a frozen lake. She looked around, her eyes searching the snowy expanse, but there was nothing in sight expect the white mountains.

Before she could ask anything — despite knowing how slim her chances of getting a straight answer out of Azriel were — he stepped back. Right on the icy surface of the lake.

Elain gasped, expecting the ice to give way beneath him and send him plunging into the freezing water below.

But nothing happened. The ice didn't even creak under his weight. Azriel simply stood there, a smile on his beautiful face, and extended a hand toward her. “Come join me, angel.”

She hesitated, glancing down at his feet. Though she was standing on the same thin blades, she wasn’t moving, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t fall flat on her face if she tried to step forward.

“Why are we stepping on the ice?” she inquired, hoping to buy herself a little more time.

“We're skating,” Azriel explained, finally giving her an answer. To demonstrate, he glided backward a few feet, his wings flaring slightly to steady him before he slid back toward her. He gracefully stopped right at the edge of the lake. “You should give it a try.”

Elain didn't move. He made it look so easy, but who knew how many times he had done this before? He also made wielding a sword look easy.

“You won't fall, Ellie,” he reassured her, as if he had read her mind. He reached out with both hands. “And even if you do, I'll be here to catch you. I promise.”

She might not trust herself, but she trusted him — trusted that he would always be there to catch her if she fell. So she took his hands and slowly set one foot on the ice, then the other.

Azriel smiled at her, his fingers firm around hers. “That's it, angel. We'll take it one step at a time. Just bend your knees a little and follow my lead.”

She did as he asked and when he moved back, he gently pulled her along. Her feet glided over the surface of the lake, leaving faint lines behind.

He gave her a few instructions, guiding her further from the shore, never letting go. Slowly, Elain became more confident, more stable on her feet as she got used to the movements. It reminded her of a dance, one that could be elegant and beautiful when someone was skilled. She made a mental note to tell Nesta about it later.

“Where did you learn to do this?” she asked. Azriel was holding only one of her hands now, and they skated side by side. Still slowly, but they had gained some speed. “It doesn't seem like a typical Illyrian activity.”

Azriel laughed. It was that beautiful, deep laugh he reserved just for her. “You're right. It's not.” His laughter softned, but its warmth lingered in his voice. “It's common in the Winter Court. Viviane taught Mor a few centuries ago, and she taught the rest of us.”

He slowed them to a stop, shifting to stand in front of her. “I never thought I would, but I took a liking to it.”

Elain smiled up at him. “I think I like it too.”

“I thought you might.” He brought her hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on her gloved knuckles. “Want to try skating on you own?”

She thought about it for a moment, then she nodded. “Alright. But don't wander too far, okay?”

Azriel's smile was bright and soft. “Never, angel.”

He let go of her hand and moved a few feet away from her. At first, she faltered without his grip to steady her, but she quickly adjusted, his earlier instructions echoing in her mind.

For every step she took toward him, Azriel moved further back. Elain felt like a child learning to walk, her movements awkward but growing more confident with every push of her foot. Soon, gliding over the ice came naturally. And Azriel was always there, his hands outstretched to catch her if she fell. But she didn’t.

When he stopped and she reached him again, his hazel eyes were bright with pride and love. “You did it, Ellie.”

“Yes,” she replied, already intertwining their fingers again. “But don't let go of my hands again.”

Azriel's brow furrowed. “Why? You did great. You didn't even stumble.”

“I know.” Elain smirked, unable to hide her own satisfaction from her little accomplishment. “I just want to hold your hand.”

His expression softened, and a smile spread across his lips. That adorable dimple appeared once again, and with it came back her need to kiss it. Damn skates, she couldn't rise on her toes with those on.

“I will never let you go, angel,” he promised.

And he didn't.

Elain had no idea how much time they spent on that lake. It was just him and her, lost in the snowy mountains in the middle of nowhere. The silence was broken only by their laughter and quiet words. It felt as though they were the only two people in the world, free from worries and duties, lost in this moment, in each other, in a love born from quiet understanding and gentle touches.

The sun was setting by the time Azriel came to a halt, wrapping his strong arms around her. “We should probably get back,” he murmured, his voice soft as if to preserve the moment. “It's getting late.”

“And cold,” she added. Without the warm sunlight, the already cold air had turned into a freezing bite. Her scarf and hat didn't help much, and even Azriel's warmth couldn't stop her gloved hands from stiffening.

“We could take a hot bath,” she suggested. “Or I could make us some hot chocolate and we can cuddle in front of the fireplace.”

Azriel smirked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “And losing the chance of seeing your gorgeous body? I think I'll choose that bath, angel.”

Elain's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “I… didn't mean it like that.”

His face fell slightly as worry creeped into his eyes. “You know we don't have to do anything if you don't want to, angel. I'm sorry if I assumed—”

She cut him off with a soft smile. “Az, I just hadn't thought about it. I'd love to take a bath together.” She cupped his face with her small hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “Take me home, Shadowsinger.”

His arms tightened around her, and he winnowed them away without another word, her laughter echoing in the now-empty glade.

dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

[andradrawsstuff]

An au I came up with bc I’m coping and I’ve seen too much sad stuff recently

The sacred timeline? Deadpool x Wolverine reference haha

Just a silly idea inspired by ep 7 that came to me out of nowhere bc I’m coping with how it ended and I’ve seen so many things that are rlly sad and I just want all my bbs to be happy so im gonna self-indulge for a bit

Also mostly from Zaun POV rather than Piltover

^ Quick sketch of 20-something Viktor adopted by Silco and Vander <3

- Silco gets the letter and him and Vander make up

- Young Viktor meets Silco instead of Synged and is adopted by Silco and Vander (parents are dead rip)

- Becomes an older brother figure to the kids, especially Powder and Ekko

- Vi doesn’t die in the explosion like in ep 7

- Powder dumps everything in the water, including the Hexcrystals

- Viktor’s interest is piqued and sneaks in to explore the building after the kids tell him what they saw in there

- Coincidentally meets Jayce trying to jump

- “Am I interrupting?”

- Jayce doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore after his work has been taken, but Viktor admires his genius and invites him to help in the undercity instead

- Jayce introduced to Silco and Vander as Viktor’s “friend” from topside who has nowhere else to go but wants to help out

- They’re skeptical at first, not knowing his intentions

- Jayce meets the kids and realises they are the ones who caused the explosion, but Viktor intervenes and tells them that they’re all here now so just accept it and move on - plus Jayce has nowhere else to go

- Jayce and Vi start connecting more (and become the disaster duo)

- Zaundads notice random things start getting fixed, an unintentional thing that Jayce does: he sees something broken and repurposes/fixes it

- But when he fixes things he usually leaves a trace of how it was broken (idk how to explain but the example when they don’t get rid of the cracks in the table but fill them with gold)

- Viktor notices and points to Jayce, making Silco and Vander more accepting of him

- They also notice how good he is with the kids and how close he and Viktor have gotten

- They participate in the innovators competition

After the time skip

- Piltover and Zaun are pretty much united

- Hextech never gets invented

- Jayce, Viktor, Silco, Ekko and Powder work together

- Jayce and Viktor are lab partners

- Jayce, Viktor and Silco help with medical research

- Ekko and Powder are Heimerdinger’s students at the academy

- Vi is a sort of authority figure in the undercity, with Vander teaching her how to run things

- Works with Sevika and helps her out

- Meanwhile Caitlyn is sent to investigate a case involving some criminals on the border between Piltover/Zaun

- Vi and Sevika go to investigate too

- Vi meets Caitlyn

- They start working together on the investigation as figureheads for their cities

- Vi takes Cait to the undercity to look for clues

- They run into Jayce, where him and Cait reunite

- Powder and Ekko participate in the innovators competition

Uhhh idk what next, I might add more at some point

Currently rlly busy with assignments so I don’t have time to write a whole fic but I’m jotting down ideas and I rlly wanna do some concept art for this idea 🙏

I might also do some headcannons soon ✨

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie!Ghost Story (Chapter Ten)

Summary: Simon’s arms were impossibly tight around her, almost crushing her to his chest. Lelia didn’t mind. She wanted to be as close to him as physically possible—would have crawled inside his ribcage and nestled next to his unbeating heart, if she could have. She knew she would be safe there. Simon always kept her safe. Word Count: 2972 Warnings: still no smut but Ghost does something a tad creepy (it's okay we still love him), flashback/descriptions of past non-con, extreme cuteness Notes: I hope you all enjoy getting this chapter a day early this week! I will be on a road trip starting tomorrow, so posting will not be possible. This chapter has one of my favorite scenes I've written for this fic, it's so sweet. All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider inidcates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! AO3, Masterlist

It took them two more days to reach the village, and just in time. Snow had started falling an hour before, and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon.

The village appeared mostly untouched from what Ghost could see of it, and he was glad. That meant they’d be more likely to find supplies that his dove desperately needed. The final bottle of water was finished yesterday, the last time she’d eaten was at the river, when he’d managed to catch a fish for her while bathing. She was shaking like a leaf, too, the exposed skin of her face bright red from the cold.

Needing to get her warm immediately, Ghost shuffled her into the first house they saw. It was a small thing, only a little bigger than the cabin. Lelia practically collapsed on the couch in front of the unlit fireplace, looking between him and it hopefully as she shivered, her teeth chattering. Simon shook his head, letting out an apologetic grunt that made her face drop in the most horrible way. But he couldn’t risk lighting it before he’d cleared the village and made sure he wouldn’t be alerting anyone to their presence.

So instead, he helped her take off her soaked puffer jacket, replacing it with the thick quilt folded over the arm of the couch. He hung the jacket on a coat rack near the door, along with her hat, mittens, and jeans, which were heavy with melted snow. He placed his helmet and vest on the floor next to it, a habit he'd formed at his dove’s request. She said she wanted him to be more comfortable around her, but sometimes he thought seeing all the gear just brought up bad memories for her.

Next, he disappeared into the toilet, coming back with a fluffy towel. He kneeled down in front of Lelia, undoing her boots—his fingers had gotten much more dexterous with continued use, though he was still slow—and peeling off her wet socks. Her feet were red and irritated, but he let out a breath of relief when there were no signs of frostbite.

She’d asked him once why he still did that—breathing. He didn’t do it all the time, didn’t need to, but sometimes he let out a whoosh of air or inhaled sharply when the urge overtook him. He’d just given her a shrug. He didn’t really know—but it did hurt his pride a bit that little habits like that were harder to kill than he had been.

He wrapped the towel around her left foot and began to dry it—only to stop when Lelia nearly kicked him, letting out a shriek of laughter.

“S-sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Tickles.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled, and he resumed drying her foot off, more carefully this time. She let out cute little giggles while squirming in place. He may have been more thorough than necessary, just to get her to the point where she was clutching her sides and gasping for breath, a wide grin on her face.

Damn it all, he wanted to kiss her.

When she finally wheezed out a plea for mercy, he stopped and sat back, just looking up at her admiringly for a long moment. He knew he shouldn't indulge the direction his thoughts were going, but he couldn't help it. She looked so fucking pretty, sitting above him, her chest still heaving from trying to catch her breath, a sweet smile on her face.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he started massaging her sore feet. She twitched again, looking down at him with playful suspicion. But when he didn’t start wiggling his fingers against the soles, she relaxed, fixing the blanket so it made a hood over her head and settling further into the couch.

She still giggled when he rubbed a particularly ticklish spot, but she let out soft sighs of contentment, too. Especially when his hands moved from her feet up to her calves. He didn’t slide them beneath her woolen stockings like he wanted to, knowing his ice cold fingers would only make her shiver more. But he massaged her through them, working on the tight muscles.

He stopped when he got to her knees, just the tips of his fingers brushing her thighs. He heard her heart rate pick up, and before he could pull away, he smelled it. Sweet and subtle and musky. She was aroused again.

He looked up at her as he began to drool. She was dozing, not quite asleep but not awake, either. He licked his teeth. He wanted to taste her so badly. And not her flesh this time, either. He'd had a whole buck just a couple of days ago—the virus’s instincts were satiated. No, the hunger he felt right now was all too human.

Before he could think better of it, Ghost nudged her thighs apart a little bit. He wasn't going to touch her, no matter how badly he wanted to. He just wanted to smell her a little better…

Watching her carefully, he leaned in until his nose brushed against the apex of her thighs from beneath his mask. She twitched, but didn't open her eyes. So he inhaled deeply—only to immediately let out a sound between a loud growl and moan, unable to stop himself.

“Simon?” His dove asked sleepily, squinting down at him. He pulled back, but not fast enough. She frowned at him, clearly confused, and rubbed her eyes, as if that might help her understand what she was seeing better. “What are you doing?”

Ghost had no bloody idea how to answer. Wouldn't have even if he could’ve talked. He didn't know how to explain what she’d caught him doing. That he wasn’t sniffing between her legs like a dog because he wanted to eat her—at least not in the way a zombie should. He thought she would be more understanding if that were the case. If it had been him almost giving into the virus, and not just him being a perverted old man creeping on a young, pretty thing like her while she was vulnerable.

“You’re shaking,” Lelia said, voice soft and concerned, and she reached down, running her fingers through his hair. Simon’s eyes widened and he stiffened in shock. Instantly, his dove stopped, beginning to pull her hand back, already starting to apologize. He grabbed her wrist, almost too hard, and brought her hand back to his hair. She blinked, but resumed the petting, and his head dropped to rest on her thigh, unable to hold it up any longer. She jumped, and the smell of her arousal grew stronger, but she didn't stop, just used the blanket to gently wipe away the drool on his broken jaw. “It’s alright, Simon. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore.”

Christ, she was far too good for him. He didn't deserve to be near her, let alone for her to comfort him like this, especially after what he'd just done. Something she clearly misinterpreted, because there was no way in hell, earth, or heaven that she would be touching him so sweetly if she had. It made him wonder about just how innocent she was, if she didn't recognize what he'd been doing. Had a man never used his mouth on her? Had she ever even had sex?

Ghost growled softly, trying to clear his head. But her scent was so strong from where he was, and he couldn’t help but think about it. About what was causing it.

He'd written it off as a coincidence, the other day. He’d thought it the only possible explanation. But now…

Taking a risk, Ghost moved his hands from her knees to rest against the sides of her thighs, so he could hug her legs. His dove’s breath stuttered, but she didn't push him away or even stop carding her fingers through his hair.

And the smell of her wetness grew stronger.

Simon let out a disbelieving gurgle, lifting his head a bit to look up at Lelia in awe. She smiled sweetly at him, tenderly brushing the back of her knuckles over the outline of his mask with her free hand, as if stroking his face.

It was a harsh reminder of reality, but one that was sorely needed. By some miracle, she may have been physically attracted to him, but that didn't matter. Not when he still didn’t have lips to kiss her with, or body heat to keep her warm. Not when he couldn't give her children, couldn't even get it up for her because his blood didn't fucking flow. Not when he couldn’t take off his damn mask because he was afraid the sight of his face would give her nightmares.

It didn't matter if she got wet when he touched her, not when he couldn't love her like she deserved.

So instead of pressing any further, he contented himself with what he had—which was far more than he ever thought he would get. The peace it brought him just to rest his head against her leg like this while she petted his hair, to be so close to her and bask in her comfort—it was a gift. One he hadn’t earned but would cherish nonetheless.

After nearly an hour, his dove’s fingers slowed and then finally stopped as she drifted off to sleep. He looked up, surprised. She never let him be so close when she slept. Whenever there was a door she could put between them, she did, and when there wasn’t, she would put as much space as she reasonably could between them. Always on the other side of the campfire, or tucked in a tree hollow only she could fit in. And even then, she’d stay awake until she physically couldn't anymore, heartbeat fast anxious the entire time.

He tried not to take it personally. He was a zombie, of course she was afraid of him suddenly going feral and attacking her while she slept. But the closer they grew, the more it bothered him.

So his dove finally trusting him enough to fall asleep, practically in his arms? He felt higher than a fucking cloud.

He laid his head back down, but continued to stare up at her, happy to watch her peacefully sleeping face and revel in her warmth.

Several hours passed before Lelia was visited by her usual nightmares.

Ghost could tell, because she began to twitch and whimper, calm expression replaced with one of fear and pain, brows drawn together and bottom lip wobbling. Nonsensical pleas escaped her, and tears began to stream down her face. He sat up straight, reaching out to cup her cheek with one hand, the other moving to hold her own. But the second his fingers touched her, Lelia screamed in pure terror, glassy eyes flying open but unseeing.

“Please!” She sobbed as Ghost instinctively pulled her closer to try and comfort her. “No! Stop! Stop!”

Immediately, he let go of her, hands hovering uselessly over her flailing limbs as she tried to fight off her imaginary attacker.

He went through his entire vocabulary of reassuring noises, from groans to grunts to coos, but she didn't seem to recognize any of it. Frustrated, and growing more panicked the longer Lelia continued to sob and beg, he tried to force his ruined mouth to same her name, over and over.

Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia.

All that came out was incomprehensible growls and gurgles, though he could feel his throat straining, the vocal chords fluttering like they did when he laughed. He kept trying.

“Llll— Lllleee— Lllluhhh—”

It was no use. His jaw was fucked even if he could manage to actually make the sounds. Her name was just too complicated.

But she was in pain. He could see it on her face. Whatever was happening to her in her dream was hurting her.

And Simon promised he would always protect her.

“Dddd— Ddddoooovveeee…”

The word was garbled and raspy, difficult to understand—but it was a word. The first word he’d spoken since turning. Since dying.

It was fitting, since he hadn’t truly felt alive again until he'd met her.

“Dddooovvee. Dddoovvee. Ddoovvee—” I’m here, my dove, I’m here, you’re safe now, I promise. “Dddove!”

Lelia gasped, her thrashing ceasing as her eyes cleared. She looked around the dark room, confused and still afraid—but when she recognized her zombie’s pale, reflective eyes, her face crumpled and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest.

“S-Simon,” she cried, whole body trembling as he pulled her close, one hand rubbing her back, the other petting her hair. “I dreamed— A-Andrew was— he was—”

Lelia’s voice cracked and she sobbed harder, remembering her nightmare—every sordid detail. And they all came pouring out.

“He w-was inside me,” she whimpered. “I w-was asleep and then— and then th-there was pain and I woke up and— and h-he was on top of me and— and—” she sucked in a shuddering breath, “and he— he c-covered my mouth so I c-couldn’t scream but— but I c-couldn’t breathe either and it h-hurt so badly, it always hurt so badly—”

Simon’s arms were impossibly tight around her, almost crushing her to his chest. Lelia didn’t mind. She wanted to be as close to him as physically possible—would have crawled inside his ribcage and nestled next to his unbeating heart, if she could have. She knew she would be safe there. Simon always kept her safe.

The growl he let out at her words was low and furious, but wounded, too. She sniffled, feeling guilty. He probably didn’t want to hear about what Andrew did to her… she was selfish for dumping it all on him.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to pull away, feeling ashamed. Simon didn't let her, cooing in her ear softly. And then, dragged out and mangled, he spoke.

“Dddddoooovvvveee…”

Lelia looked up at him in shock as her brain tried to parse what she’d just heard. Dove. A word, not just one of the deep, throaty noises he used to communicate.

“Did you— Oh my days, Simon! You just— you just spoke!” She yelled, her nightmare completely forgotten. She cradled Simon’s face in her small hands, smiling so widely it hurt. They were so close, chests pressed together as he held her in his lap. Close enough to kiss. “But… why did you say dove?”

Simon’s hands dragged up her sides till they reached her own face, and his cold, thick fingers gently traced each and every one of her features—the arch of her brows, the slope of her nose, the roundness of her cheeks, even the bow of her lips. She blushed deeply at that, heart stuttering in her chest, belly squirming and skin tingling where he’d touched her.

“Dddooovvee,” he repeated. Saliva pooled in his mouth and dripped down his chin. Then, even more carefully, and less understandable, “Lllleeehh— Llll— Llllluuuhhhh.”

Despite the garbled mix of vowels and consonants, she understood him—“Dove. Lelia.”—and it took her breath away.

“I’m Dove?” She asked, voice small but so very moved. Simon groaned affirmatively, fingertips pressed lightly against her cheeks. She smiled at him, expression soft and gooey as a marshmallow. “Is that what you call me in your head? Your dove?”

Simon’s cloudy eyes flickered away from hers, even as he nodded, his shoulders hunched in embarrassment. Lelia laughed, pure and sweet and joyful. Her hands still cupped his face, and she wiped away his drool with the sleeve of her jacket, smiling at him adoringly.

“Sometimes I call you my zombie,” she admitted, tracing the edges of his mask with her thumbs. She wanted so badly to take it off and see his face. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn't break his trust in her. “But mostly I just call you Simon. Like you asked me too.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled, and he closed the minuscule distance between them so their foreheads touched for a brief moment. A silent thanks.

Lelia stared into Simon’s cloudy eyes. She once again wondered what color they had been, before. She was so close to him, she almost thought she saw little glimpses of dark brown—but it had to be just the shadows playing tricks. It was nearly pitch black in the room, after all.

Suddenly, Lelia yawned, her nose bumping against the bottom of his mask. Simon quickly pulled back, arms snaking around her waist as he got to his feet, lifting her up and adjusting her so he was carrying her bridal style. Lelia let out a little eep of surprise, making Simon chuckle. She could feel the vibrations of it against her cheek where it rested on his chest, and she blushed at how nice it felt.

Simon brought her into the bedroom, carefully pulling back the blankets and then laying her down to tuck her in. Once he’d piled up as many blankets on her that he could find, he moved to leave, and Lelia’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his thick wrist.

“Stay?” She asked, voice small and hopeful. Simon froze, and Lelia tugged lightly on his arm. She had no hope of actually pulling him into bed with her, but she wanted him to know she was serious about her request.

Finally, Simon groaned quietly in agreement, and then silently got into bed next to her, laying down on top of the blanket. He kept several inches of space between them, and Lelia scooted over so she could lay on his chest. Her eyes fluttered shut, and though there was no soothing heartbeat under her ear or comfortable warmth emanating from Simon’s body, she felt safer than she had in a long time as she drifted off to sleep.

[seijorhi]

Hi Rhi!!

I’ve been a fan of all of your fics for a while now and All In just scratched my brain in ways I didn’t know fics could. The uneasy atmosphere in the first half was so well executed that I kept on wanting to reach out to Aya for help (I might have crushed on her and wished the reader had just skipped off into the sunset with her instead) and the way the Shiratorizawa trio straddled the line between socially acceptable but weird and downright creepy at the stadium was perfectly balanced. I was slightly suspicious that this would be a ‘beta reader discovers she’s an omega’ fic but honestly the twist was ten times better than what I predicted, and the way you disguised Ushijima’s reaction to scenting Aya on the reader was masterclass.

I’ve been obsessed with all the behind the scenes information you’ve been posting on your blog and wanted to ask a few more questions. First, what scents do you think Ushijima, Semi, and Tendou would give off? Does the reader have a preference, and if so do any of them calm her down or do they just give her relentless anxiety? Of the three would you say that Semi is the most inclined to be the leader with how conniving he is? And lastly, when Tendou gifted the chocolates what did he mean by “I had a feeling, I went with it”?

Thank you so much for writing and sharing this fic, I hope you have a wonderful day!

-🐡

nonnie, ily <33

vghfdjkhfjdks in no way was i going to write a surprise omega for my beta fic, i would've been hunted for sport. also it takes half the fun out of it – don't get me wrong, i love it for the whole 'sudden, unexpected heat, oh shit' thing, but this fic wasn't about that.

anyway, onto the questions.

tendou's scent's described in the fic as cherrywood, that sort of sweet, cherry intensity with a woodsy base. semi's got more of an amber-vanilla scent going on, which takes on a warm, smokey edge. ushijima's scent is clean and masculine, musk and cedar. the kind you just wanna bury your face in and inhale. those alphas smell good, and she hates that they do have an effect on her. i wouldn't call it drugging, but after a few hours of being smothered in their scents, it's harder to think clearly. they definitely take advantage of it.

from the perspective of the fic it might seem like semi's the one calling the shots, but it's a little more complex than that. being the biggest, the strongest, the most dominant, ushijima falls easily into the position of pack alpha. if he hadn't wanted the beta in their pack, she wouldn't have been. that wouldn't have stopped semi from going after her, it just would've meant he kept all her for himself, separate from the pack.

semi might've been the one to convince him that going after the omega was the right bet, but ultimately he was the one to green light it, and when it became abundantly clear he wouldn't tolerate aya's close proximity towards their beta, that was the end of it.

as far as tendou's comment goes, it's about the chocolates themselves, and her scent. he took a gamble when he made the chocolates specifically to give to her – caramel with sea salt. it was a guess that they'd complement her, and it paid off because he was right.

[itchytitss]

Summertime Night Terrors🌙

Ellie Williams x Reader

My first Ellie fic! This is actually a repurposed fic from my old blog that was originally a resident evil Cleon one shot. But I’ve since realised this could also make a good Ellie fic, so I’ve edited it to be wlw instead hehe. It’s also worth mentioning that this was originally written a while ago, and was the first fic I’ve ever written, so despite some minor edits, it’s still not as good as some of my other fics. So I apologise that this is a little bad.

This goes without saying but I am NOT a writer. This was written for fun and purely for me. Please be nice.

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to find your girlfriend struggling with a particularly bad night terror

CW: PTSD, nightmares, canon typical gore/violence, suicide in dream, anxiety, panic attacks, self doubt, guilt, angst then fluff, like lots of fluff, wholesome shit

Trapped in an unfamiliar building with hallways upon hallways, Ellie runs, gun in hand.

The rain is pouring down and pooling on the floor through the cracked windows. She tries to make herself quieter, but the stomping and sloshing of her boots against the puddles and creaky floors constantly alert the infected of her presence.

Cautiously, she continues down the winding labyrinth of this rundown building. Everywhere she turns, she’s swamped by infected, covered in ripped flesh, blood and gnashing teeth. Donning multiple open wounds and a freshly sprained ankle, Ellie realises she’s running out of ammo and needs a place to rest. Fast.

She eventually limps her way to a tall staircase. Looking back behind her shoulder, she knows the door she just blocked with a cabinet isn’t going to hold long, so she makes her way towards the staircase.

Limping up the stairs, she hears loud sobbing, cries begging for mercy, screams twisting in pain and anguish. It sounds horrifyingly familiar.

You.

Without thinking, Ellie immediately picks up her pace, skipping stairs as she climbs in desperation to put a stop to whatever was causing you to make those horrific sounds. It hurts her to no end just hearing you in pain.

The staircase seems never ending. Though she could see the top of the old wooden steps, they just never seemed to stop. Seemingly trapped in an endless cycle as if she was Sisyphus on the mountain.

Ellie looks back, only to see a dark void quickly swallowing the stairs behind her, causing them to break and crumble down into the bottomless pit. The falling stairs are catching up to her and if she doesn’t hurry the fuck up, she would fall too.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK-“

Ellie immediately starts sprinting up the stairs, putting agonising pressure on her leg that was already in seering pain. She needs to reach you. Her injuries can wait. The only thing that matters right now is you.

After what seems like years, Ellie finally reaches the top of the staircase, stumbling and catching herself on a nearby wall. Panting and gasping for air, her chest heaves violently. Her lungs burn, begging for her to stop. Though she allows herself no break.

Your screaming and cries of agony continue, but with added noises. Ripping. Squelching. Dripping. Chewing. Clicking.

“No, no no no please-“ She begs under her breath to any god that can hear her.

On unsteady feet, Ellie runs to the door from which the noises are coming from. A soft yellow light leaks from underneath the crack, illuminating the floor in front of her.

“ELLIE!!” A muffled wail from behind the door.

Locked.

“Shit-HOLD ON!!” Ellie starts kicking the door with all of her remaining energy, eventually busting the door off its hinges, sending splinters flying through the air. Now no longer behind a barrier, the sickening noises and screams suddenly become louder. Ellie stumbles in the room, bile rising in her throat as she takes in the sight before her.

You’re pinned to the floor underneath two clickers, both ripping and gnawing at the flesh on your thigh and stomach. The tearing of skin and muscle, the clashing of teeth, the godawful coppery iron smell of your blood flooding Ellie’s senses all at once.

There’s so much blood. Can a person even have that much blood? Waterfalls of crimson spill from everywhere around you. Thick, dark blood pooling onto the hardwood floor and leaking into the cracks of the planks. Ellie freezes, unable to move- fuck why can’t she move?

Busy ripping flesh from bone and sucking on sinew, the infected don’t even notice her sudden entrance, too preoccupied with clawing and biting at your helpless, sobbing body on the floor.

Your clothes are tattered, your once neat hair now tangled and wet from the blood pooling around you. Your face covered in blood and dirt, save for the streams of tears rushing down your cheeks.

You’re being ripped apart, drowning on your own blood. You cough, spilling hot thick crimson all over your chin and chest.

“…Ell- Ellie.” You stare at her with unfocused eyes, desperately clinging on to what life is left.

Gurgling through the blood bubbling up your throat, you reach for your gun next to you on the floor, your hand shaking.

“Nonono, no!” Ellie screams your name. She can’t move. Why can’t she fucking move?!

Without looking away, your hand brings the revolver up to your temple. Clenching your eyes shut, you let out one last short whimper before you pull the trigger.

“NO!!”

—

It was right in the middle of summer and like most nights recently, it’s been unbearably hot. The AC is broken and to you and your girlfriend’s displeasure, Jackson’s repair man is coming the day after tomorrow.

Because of the sweltering heat, the sheets are off the bed, leaving your almost naked bodies sprawled out on the double mattress. Ellie in her sports bra and boxers and yourself in an old tank top and thin underwear. Your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin.

In her feeble attempt to fight the heat, Ellie had dragged in old fan to sit at the end of the bed. It shakes and whirs air towards the bed, though isn’t even close to cooling you in the slightest.

You had also propped open the windows and the balcony door, which allowed some drafts of fresh air to flow into the stuffy room. The somewhat peaceful sound of crickets can be heard chirping in the still trees outside.

It’s 2:25 am when you wake up to the bed slightly shaking, hearing soft whimpering coming from beside you. Looking over, you see your girlfriend, Ellie, curled in a ball with her hands clutching her head, shaking and mumbling words you can’t understand.

Her white-knuckled hands grip her scalp, her hair slightly damp with sweat and messy from a restless sleep. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and turning on the lamp on your side of the bed.

“Ellie?” You whisper. No answer. You scoot closer. In the dim light, you can see the muscles in her jaw clenching, her eyebrows pinching together, her face twitching in fear. Or perhaps anger? Her entire body is shaking, breaths coming in quick, sweat dripping down her brow and back.

You sit there for a moment, hand hovering over her shoulder, debating on whether or not to wake her up. You don’t want to scare her awake, but the way she twitches and whimpers… It’s worse than usual.

Ellie has had her fair share of nightmares, but you’ve never seen her in this bad of a state before. You hate watching this. Whatever is going through your girlfriend’s mind is worse than usual, and you don’t want her to stay in this dream by herself any longer.

“Ellie, babe.” You whisper again, lightly nudging her shoulder.

“NO!!” Ellie jolts herself awake with a desperate scream, voice cracking, startling you as well.

Within a millisecond, she quickly grabs her switchblade from the bedside table and holds it out in front of her. Her eyes frantically scanning around the room for a threat.

“Heyheyhey, Ellie it’s okay!” You quickly grab her wrist and try to settle the shaking hand gripping the knife.

You know you’re not in danger. She would often wake up from a nightmare with the knife in her hands. A fight response powered by muscle memory. Determined to protect not only herself, but most importantly, you.

She’s shaking, beads of cold sweat falling down her brow, her chest and back. Her eyes are unfocused and searching for something, anything.

“Ellie, look at me, it’s just me. I’m here. You’re okay.” You whisper, attempting to gain her attention. Her wide blue eyes try so desperately hard to focus on the whatever is in front of her.

She’s panting, gasping for air like she had just been pulled from water. Her chest heaves violently with each inhale.

“Look at me, come back to me, babe.” You whisper softly, your free hand moving slowly and cautiously to cup her jaw, thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek. “It was just a dream. You’re okay.” You repeat.

Ellie’s eyes slowly focus back on you. Her senses recognising the soft touch of your hand on her shivering body. The sudden realisation that it was all a dream comes as an exhausting wave of relief.

Tears swell up in her eyes as her lip begins to quiver. Just as quickly as the panting had stopped, it starts back up again with a small pained cry.

You shush her gently as you watch the thin sheen of sweat quickly being flushed away by fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Your thumb still smoothing over her cheek, catching streams of warm tears as they fall.

Her grip on the knife loosens as she lets it fall to the floor with a clatter.

“There we go, that’s it.” You coo, moving your other hand to cup her cheek on the other side of her face.

“Look at me, breathe with me, honey,” You start taking deep breaths, encouraging the hyperventilating woman in front of you to join you. “In…and out, that’s it, keep going.”

Ellie takes long shaking breaths, staring into your eyes, her hands now holding a vice grip on your arms.

“Y-you… I- I c-could-n’t-“

“Shhhh. I know, I know. Just breathe, baby, focus on me.” You whisper, as if you were a handler trying desperately to calm a spooked animal.

Her vision is blurry, this time from tears while she hiccups desperate breaths of air. You slowly bring your hand down to her’s, guiding it to your chest, allowing her to feel the steady beating of your heart. She lets out a few shaky breaths, more tears falling to the bedsheets.

“We’re in Jackson, baby. We’re in our house, in our room. You’re safe, Ellie.” You whisper. “You’re safe. I’m safe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Ellie chokes out a broken sob at your reassuring smile. Her hand clenches, balling the thin fabric of your tank top into her fist.

Uncaring of the heat, she quickly wraps her tattooed arm around your waist, scooping you into her lap with a grunt, her face pressed into your neck, now wet with tears. The feeling of you in her arms, the smell of your body wash, your warm skin, your beating heart, it was all real. You’re really here.

You sit together for what seems like ages, Ellie clinging to you and slightly rocking in comfort while you tuck her head beneath your chin, carding you hand through her hair, soothing her with small hums and whispers.

“It’s all over, you’re okay. Shhh there we go.” You draw mindless soothing shapes on her back, tacky with a thin layer of sweat. She sobs quietly into your chest, hiccuping while she grasps at the thin fabric on your back. She listens to your heartbeat, holding you tightly as if you would disappear at any moment.

Logically, Ellie knows she’s safe. She knows that you’re alive, here in her arms. She knows you’re okay. But that doesn’t stop the deep feeling of dread her nightmares bring. It doesn’t stop the memories, the flashbacks and the night terrors. Those awful fucking dreams that happen multiple times a week. Stupid dreams that keep her up at night. It all feels too real. Of course she knows it’s not, but that’s what makes this all so frustrating.

This isn’t the first time she’s woken you up from one of her nightmares. And the guilt she feels from it is immeasurable.

She sobs into your chest, hiding her face in shame from you. You, who loves and understands her deeply. You’re patient and strong. You’re willing to put your needs on hold for the one you love. You’ve never judged Ellie for a second. Not once have you blamed her, or thought that she’s overreacting. Ellie knows this deep down too. She just can’t accept the fact that someone cares.

The rational part of her brain tells her that this is normal and she’s not being a burden. It tells her that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to take time to heal. But the rest of her doesn’t listen. The rest of her tells her that she’s a failure. That she’s better than this. She should’ve died from the bite like all the others.

After Ellie’s crying eventually slows and her breathing becomes steady, you cup her cheek again and gently move her to look at you, her chin resting on your chest.

“How about a shower, huh?” You ask. Her half lidded eyes red and irritated from the tears that are now drying on her cheeks and your neck and chest.

“Y-yeah… okay.” She hesitantly agrees. You shift out of bed. Now standing to both your natural heights, you cup her cheeks once more.

“Alright, you go take a nice, cool shower- as long as you need. I’ll be right out here. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” She nods. You smile at her and smooth your hands slowly down her arms to entangle your fingers with hers. Your touch a gentle, calming caress, grounding Ellie in reality.

You look back over your shoulder to the bed. Suddenly noticing the damp spots on the front of your shirt, you think for a moment, watching the rickety old fan rotate slowly.

“Hmm, I’m already up,” You mumble to yourself. “I’ll put some new bedsheets on and change.” You announce to your girlfriend, letting go and turning to exit the room.

“You go take that showe-“ your movements are quickly stopped when Ellie grasps a hand around your wrist.

“Please don’t go…” She whispers. Ellie straightens her shoulders and clears her throat. “I uh- we should both take a shower. There’s no use in changing the sheets if we’re not both clean.” Her real plea goes without saying.

I need you with me.

You know it. Ellie knows you know it too, but she can’t help but try to hide any feelings of vulnerability. She drops her head and clenches her eyes shut at how pathetic and childish she sounds, clinging on to you when you would just be in the hallway for a moment.

“Alright,” You smile. “I’ll join you, but we need new sheets first.” You repeat softly, standing on your toes to kiss her forehead. Ellie lets go of your wrist, turning to slump against the wall to watch and wait for her girlfriend, like a lovesick puppy.

You walk to the linen closet in the hallway, taking out some fresh sheets and a small bottle of lavender oil. You go through the motions of changing the bedsheets, all under Ellie’s watchful eyes. When you stand back to admire your work, you grab the bottle of lavender oil and put two drops on Ellie’s pillow. You haven’t used it in a few months, so luckily there was enough left for Ellie.

Later in the shower, you stand behind your girlfriend, peppering kisses across her back and massaging shampoo into her scalp. Gently scrubbing away her worries as she leans her forehead on the cool tile wall, breathing deep and slow, trying not to fall asleep under your gentle touch. She lets you move her around and shape her like putty under your hands.

Your soft, gentle hands caress her and work out the knots in her tense shoulders. You chuckle at the occasional quiet groan or whisper of a swear under her breath whenever you hit a particularly sore spot.

You won’t let her move a muscle, you’re doing everything for her and you like it this way. You absolutely love taking care of the ones you love. In your eyes, it’s as rewarding as being looked after yourself. So often Ellie would spoil you, treat you and take care of you in more ways than you could imagine. But right now it’s your turn to shower her with love and affection.

When you finish your shower, you stand in the bathroom while slowly drying Ellie with a towel, pressing light kisses all over her dripping body, paying extra attention to her various scars.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers, breaking the silence between you two. You look up, your girlfriend near falling asleep under the dim light of the bathroom.

“What for?”

“For… for waking you up. For being a shitty girlfriend. I let all the shit get to my head.” She gestures vaguely to her head. Her eyes, red and stinging from the strain of crying start to water up again.

“I’m supposed to be there for you. You’ve got your own nightmares, your own… trauma. And here I am being selfish and… fucking pathetic.” Her voice cracking as she avoids your gentle gaze.

“Hey, look at me, babe.” You whisper, cupping your hand on her cheek, your other hand resting on her shoulder.

“First of all, I’m glad you woke me up. I don’t want you to go through any of that alone. I’ll never be mad at you for waking me up when you’ve had a nightmare, okay?” You smile. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Sure, I’ve got my own issues, but that doesn’t negate yours. You need help too, as much as you like to deny it and act tough.” You tease, poking at her chest. Ellie lets out a genuine chuckle.

“You’re not weak, Ellie. You’re the strongest person I know. Seriously.” You start drawing small soothing circles on her bare chest, watching the way the stray water droplets fall down her neck onto her collarbone.

“We’ll get through this together, okay? We’ll sort it out.” You continue. “You don’t need to act tough around me. We’ve got each other, yeah?” You look up at her and smile. All your love for her displayed on your gentle expression.

“God, I love you so much.” She exhales in one quick breath, wrapping her arm around your waist to pull your into a slow, lazy kiss.

“I love you too.” You giggle. For the first time that night, you watch Ellie smile. Her teeth poking through the small sliver of a grin as she chuckles with you. God, you’re so happy to see hear her laugh, she barely does nowadays. The warm and velvety sound like music to your ears.

After you change into fresh clothes, Ellie lays on her back in bed, savouring the feeling of her clean skin against the cold, fresh bedsheets you had laid out. She inhales, deep and slow.

“Lavender…” She mumbles.

“Yeah, I used to use it when I can’t sleep. It helps the brain relax. At least, that’s what my mom always told me.”

“It’s nice. It… smells like you.” She sits up on her forearms and watches as you unplug and move the rickety floor fan.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m moving this to your side,” You explain as you plug the fan back in. “People get night terrors when they’re too hot.”

“But, your side- It’ll barely reach you from over here.” Ellie argues.

“I’ll live.” You assure her with a smile. She can’t deny that the feeling of the fan directly facing her now was heavenly. The air rustling her damp hair and cooling her body. She flops back onto the bed, relishing in the fresh air now concentrated on her side of the bed.

Once you had gotten two fresh glasses of cold water, you slowly climb into bed, leaning over Ellie and tucking her damp hair out of her face. “I love you.” You whisper, kissing her on her forehead.

Ellie reaches up and pulls you back down by the nape of your neck, kissing your soft lips. You rest your forehead on hers.

“I love you so, so much.” She mumbles. “Thank you…”

“Wake me up if there’s any other nightmares?” You ask. Ellie nods sheepishly.

With another peck to her lips, you roll over, giving her room to not overcrowd her body with extra heat. Without the fan facing the middle of the bed, you barely get any cool air, but you don’t mind, so long as Ellie gets it all and sleeps comfortably.

“I love you. Goodnight, baby.”

“G’night.”

The rest of the night is filled with soft, steady breathing and the white noise of wind and the crickets chirping outside. Ellie sleeps comfortably the rest of the night, and you catch drafts of fresh air from the open window.

—

Again, not proud of this but I wanted to post it anyway :)

[slaymitchabernathy]

Snow Globe

| "You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round. And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown. And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars." |

Soarynn Snow weaves her way through the busy Capitol crowds while doing her best to remain effortless and elegant.

But that's a hard thing to be when it's freezing and you're dragging a four-year-old behind you.

"Mommy, where're we going?"

Soarynn looks up at the gray sky, it might snow today according to their weatherman Lucky Flickerman, that would be nice, a little snow, the fireplace warming their home while they all sip hot chocolate on the sofa. "We're going to the store darling," she tells her daughter, "we have to get something for your father."

"Why can't he get it himself?"

Soarynn often wonders the same thing but she always catches herself, Coriolanus works extremely hard to provide for their family, so on the rare chance like today when he needs her to pick something up for him last minute, she remains endlessly gracious and understanding. Even though sometimes she wishes he could just get someone else to do it.

"Because he's at work right now," she explains, pulling them along the sidewalk, "and he needs this as soon as possible."

Soarynn had been prepared to spend her Friday at home, in her pajamas while making cookies with her daughter Ceraphina. Instead, her husband called around thirty minutes ago, telling her that he needed a gift to be picked up from a nearby department store as soon as possible.

"It's an emergency darling," he had said over the phone, "I forgot all about getting my boss a gift for the baby shower he's having. I already called the store, all you need to do is pick it up and bring it to me."

So Soarynn quickly got dressed and made herself presentable, and then did the same with Ceraphina. They couldn't afford to be as fashionable as she would've liked, but they were on a bit of a deadline according to his urgent tone.

The task was simple enough, go to the department store, get the gift, go to his office, and deliver the gift. In the end, she was a hero.

"So we're on a secret mission?"

Soarynn looks down at her daughter who looks so excited to be running a last-minute errand with her mother.

Soarynn is someone who values routine and she's done her best to instill that into Ceraphina as well. Since Ceraphina could talk, she's gone over their schedule for the week, letting the child know what she should expect for the next seven days. She felt it was good for her young mind to know what was coming, to remain calm in knowing that nothing would change.

Now that she's older, they'll go over their schedule every Sunday night at dinner with Coriolanus, so today's errand must be quite thrilling for her.

"It's not much of a secret," Soarynn admits, "more of a special mission." Ceraphina giggles and Soarynn pulls them towards a very tall building where several department stores reside inside of it. "Are we gonna go to Daddy's office?" Soarynn pulls the heavy doors open and sighs when she feels how warm it is inside. She personally hates the cold, Coriolanus has never been bothered by it but she certainly has.

She misses summer.

"Yes we are," she confirms, walking up to a directory of all the stores, "now let's see, we're here, and we need to be...ah, there it is, third floor." To her dismay, there is no elevator which means she has to walk up a lot of stairs in heels.

She'll be sure to give Coriolanus an earful about this when she sees him.

Ceraphina thinks of it as a fun game though, jumping or skipping up the steps while giggling. At least one of them is having fun. By the time they make it to the third floor, Soarynn is out of breath. "Let's go, Mommy!" Ceraphina calls, running towards the store. Soarynn follows behind her at a much slower pace, "I'm coming, darling."

Soarynn eyes grow bigger when she sees how beautifully this store has been decorated for the holidays, Christmas trees, green garlands, red ribbons, and sparkling lights. She should be taking notes for their penthouse next year.

"We need to find the baby section," Soarynn tells her, scanning the racks of clothing. She remembers Coriolanus talking about how he needed to get his boss something for his baby who was going to be born in early January. Looks like he forgot about that.

"Are we having another baby?"

Soarynn swallows at her daughter's question because she would love to have another baby, or two, or three. Ceraphina is just so perfect so any other children would have to be as well.

"No," she says slowly, "not right now but someone else is and we need to get them a gift."

"Okay!"

Soarynn will miss these moments, next fall Ceraphina will be off to school and Soarynn will be left with a lot of time on her hands. Maybe another baby isn't such a bad idea.

They wander around the store for a while until they stumble upon the section where tiny little clothes hang on the racks. Soarynn can feel the baby fever kicking in, maybe they can start trying tonight. Coriolanus certainly enjoyed the benefits of her being pregnant and more needy, and Soarynn just loved sporting a baby bump.

"These are so little," Ceraphina says, reaching up to touch a small pair of shoes on a shelf. Soarynn smiles, smoothing down her hair, "You used to fit into those, you were so tiny." Oh, she was so precious, so little and sweet. Maybe this is just the push she needed to start trying for another baby.

"My dolls can wear those shoes," Ceraphina points out, "can we get the baby a doll?" Soarynn shakes her head, giving her daughter a soft smile, "No darling, your father already purchased the gift, we just have to pick it up. Now let's go over to the counter and ask for it." They walk over to the counter where a saleswoman is typing away on the register, "Excuse me, my husband called earlier and placed an order. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he sent me to pick it up for him," Soarynn explains.

The woman nods and types in a few more things, "Yes, I can see the order right here. Do you have some form of identification?"

Soarynn nods, "Of course."

She opens her purse and pulls out her wallet, brandishing her citizen's license to the saleswoman who glances over it before nodding, "It'll be just a moment, I'll be right back ladies."

Ceraphina wraps her fingers around the counter's edge while Soaryn puts her wallet back in her purse, "She called me a lady Mommy."

Soarynn chuckles, Ceraphina is very well-mannered for a girl her age but Soarynn knows how eager she is to be older so she can wear makeup and fancy shoes like her mother. "You certainly are a little lady," Soarynn agrees, "maybe after we stop by the office we can get some lunch."

Soarynn had breakfast but that was hours ago and Ceraphina always loves it when they eat out at a restaurant. She'll have to make a reservation for Christmas Eve, Coriolanus already bought them tickets to the ballet since Ceraphina has been begging to go. She's fascinated by the ballerinas and their pretty costumes.

Soarynn and Coriolanus have discussed enrolling her in lessons so this will be a good test to see how serious she is about it.

The saleswoman comes back with a shiny black bag and a smile, "Here you are Mrs. Snow, enjoy the rest of your day."

Soarynn returns her smile and nods, "Thank you so much, enjoy your day as well."

Ceraphina offers to carry the bag but that lasts about ten seconds before she hands it back to Soarynn, "Mommy, what's over there?" She asks, pointing at a very large decorative display near the women's section. Soarynn tilts her head, unable to see what it really is, "I don't know darling, let's go see what it is."

They walk a little closer and Soarynn can see a fancy-looking camera and a large green sofa, and what looks like a man sitting on it.

"Santa!"

Ceraphina runs over to the display, roped off with velvet ropes and Soarynn quickly realizes that the store has hired a Santa for the children to take pictures with. Ceraphina jumps up and down, looking at Santa then back at Soarynn, "Mommy can I say hello? Please, please, please may I say hello?"

Soarynn sighs, these things are sweet but also the bane of every parent's existence when they're in a rush to get somewhere. But she can see how badly Ceraphina wants to meet Santa and there's no one else in line. She checks her watch, they're doing good on time and Coriolanus will understand.

"Alright," she finally gives in, "but it'll have to be quick."

Ceraphina squeals and runs over to Soarynn, throwing her arms around her legs, "Thank you, Mommy! You're the best Mommy ever!"

She's heard that one before.

"Mhm, now go say hello," Soarynn tells her, giving Ceraphina a gentle push.

The photographer unhooks the velvet rope and Ceraphina smiles up at him, "Thank you!"

She skips right over to Santa who looks bored out of his mind but he picks up the act once he sees a child approaching him "Well, hello there little girl. What's your name?"

Ceraphina stops in front of him, hands behind her back, head held high, "Ceraphina Snow. C-E-R-A-P-H-I-N-A S-N-O-W."

Santa looks very impressed. "My goodness, looks like you know a lot. Do you know what you'd like for Christmas?"

While Ceraphina leans in to whisper her big wish, the photographer hands Soarynn a piece of paper with photo packages listed on it. She frowns, "Oh, we don't need a photo, thank you though."

"In order to speak to Santa, you have to take a photo," the photographer says, putting a hand on his hip. Soarynn scoffs, what a scam!

"Fine," she says, handing the paper back to him, "we'll take your cheapest option."

She looks back over at Ceraphina who's still going and they need to get a move on, "Ceraphina darling, smile for a picture!"

Ceraphina gasps and hops onto the sofa next to Santa, putting on her best smile.

"Say 'Merry Christmas'!" The photographer says, clicking the camera. A blinding flash goes off and Ceraphina slides off the sofa, "Remember," she says to Santa, "a pink one, not a blue one."

Santa nods, "I'll tell my elves that."

Ceraphina runs back over to Soarynn, giddy with excitement, "What did you ask for?"

Ceraphina puts a finger up to her mouth, "I can't tell you 'cause it's only for Santa to know." Soarynn raises her eyebrows, whatever she asked for sounded very specific. She might have to come back and ask Santa what her request was.

"Here are your photos," the photographer says, holding them out to Soarynn with a limp wrist and attitude. She snatches them out of his hand and bestows her fakest smile onto him, "Have a good day," she says, walking off with Ceraphina.

"We got pictures?"

"We got scammed, is what we got," Soarynn tells her, flipping through the photos, "but they are very cute pictures. We can put them on the fridge." She hands them over to Ceraphina who looks at each individual photo of her and Santa with fascination.

"Are we going to Daddy's office now?"

Soarynn prepares herself for the stairs and the cold, "We sure are."

꧁ ꧂

After dealing with that snippy photographer, the welcome Soarynn and Ceraphina are given the second they step into the office building is greatly appreciated.

Due to his high status within the company, Coriolanus is highly respected and a little bit feared, which means when his family comes to visit, they're treated like royalty.

"Mrs. Snow, Ms. Snow," the receptionist greets them, "welcome back, let me get the elevator for you, and your coats."

Soarynn shrugs off her long black coat and Ceraphina does the same, thanking the receptionist, "Can I press the button?" Ceraphina asks, bouncing on her toes with excitement. She loves pressing elevator buttons, and it's cute until she picks the wrong floor.

"Do you remember what floor he's on?" Soarynn asks, poking Ceraphina who giggles, "Yes! Daddy is on the tippy-top floor because Snow lands on top," Ceraphina tells her matter-of-factly.

The kid knows her stuff.

"That would be correct," Soarynn says when the doors open up. They step inside and Soarynn makes sure that Ceraphina presses the correct button, all the way up to the twenty-fifth floor. "Can I give one of my Santa pictures to Daddy?"

Soarynn looks down at all the pictures in Ceraphina's hands, there certainly is a lot, she just wonders if Coriolanus wants a photo of his daughter posing with a random man wearing a red suit and a fake beard.

"We'll have to ask him," is all she says.

The elevator dings and they're finally here. Well, finally on the right floor at least.

The doors open up to another, smaller lobby with another front desk and a very pretty-looking Christmas tree tucked away in the corner. Ceraphina runs ahead to the desk and stands on her tip-toes, peeking over the wooden surface, "Hi Ms. Eudora!"

Eudora Trinket is the head secretary of the twenty-fifth floor. She's fierce, well-organized, and has a soft spot for sweet children like Ceraphina who come to visit their fathers from time to time.

"Well hello dear, what brings you in today?" The older woman asks, giving Ceraphina her undivided attention. "We're bringing my Daddy a gift for his boss 'cause he forgot about it," she tells Eudora, causing Soarynn to regret giving her that much information.

Eudora looks more amused than anything, she knows Coriolanus quite well and Soarynn has witnessed her scolding the younger man a few times. It's good that he has someone to keep him on the edge.

"I see," Eudora says, looking up at Soarynn, "well he just got done with his meeting and should be in his office." Soarynn nods, offering her hand to Ceraphina, "Come on darling, we mustn't keep him waiting."

After saying goodbye to Eudora, Soarynn and Ceraphina make their way down the grand hallways of the twenty-fifth floor. These offices are the largest in the building according to Coriolanus who's quite pleased with his own office. There are several portraits hanging on the walls, all of the members of the company. Most of them are older men who either founded the company or have been here for decades.

But the newest painting has Coriolanus in it and Ceraphina loves to point at it every time they pass by. "There's Daddy," she points, looking up at her father's stern face in the portrait.

Soarynn hums and they turn the corner, nearing his office doors. Coriolanus has a corner office that gives him a great view of the city skyline. Ceraphina lets go of Soarynn's hand and runs over to his office doors, knocking on them with both fists.

"Daddy we're here!" She calls, not as quiet as Soarynn would like but most of the men on this floor don't mind, not when they have children of their own. A moment later, the doors open and Coriolanus is grinning down at his daughter, "I thought I heard someone running," he says, causing Ceraphina to look down at her feet.

Coriolanus has reprimanded her time and time again about never running indoors. A hard habit to break apparently. "I was excited to see you," she tries sweetly, pushing past him to go into his office. Coriolanus shakes his head and turns his attention to Soarynn who proudly shows off the black gift bag, "Delivered right to your doorstep," she tells him, smiling when he grabs her waist and pulls her closer.

"How should I tip you?" He asks, brushing his lips over her ear. Soarynn blushes, he's always been so charming, never ashamed to touch her or flirt with her even at work. "I have a few ideas," she mumbles, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Coriolanus chuckles, "Really? How darling?"

Soarynn can't contain her excitment any longer, she thought she could wait until he got home but she might as well plant this idea in his head now.

"I want another baby."

He sure as hell wasn't expecting that. His eyes widen and he almost falls backward before Soarynn grabs his arm with her free hand, "A...another baby?" He repeats, scratching the back of his neck. Soarynn hums, rocking back and forth on her heels, with Christmas coming up, it would be the perfect gift.

"Girl or boy," she says with a shrug, "I'm not picky."

She walks into his office, leaving Coriolanus to process her wish while Ceraphina runs around, touching everything she possibly can if it's in reach. "Don't touch that darling," Soarynn tells her when Ceraphina goes to touch an award Coriolanus was given by the company. It's a frosted glass ball with writing engraved on the glass, it almost looks like a snow globe which is probably why she wants to touch it.

Ceraphina pouts but doesn't complain, "Can we show Daddy my pictures with Santa?"

Soarynn sets her purse down on the nearby sofa, Coriolanus keeps his office tidy and that includes the sofa and chairs he has in the corner by the bookshelves. "Of course we can."

It seems that Coriolanus has recovered from her baby ambush and he closes the doors behind him, offering her a sheepish smile, "And you want me to start working on your gift soon?" He inquires, clearly excited about having sex with a greater goal involved rather than just an orgasm.

Soarynn smiles sweetly at him, batting her eyelashes, "As soon as possible please," she purrs.

"What gift Mommy?"

They both freeze at their daughter's innocent question, one an adult cannot truthfully answer at times, "Mommy asked for another cat," Soarynn smoothly answers, figuring it's a good lie since Coriolanus would never agree to get another cat. He can barely stand the one they have now.

Coriolanus nods, "Yes, she asked for another cat, wishful thinking if I've ever seen it but thank you both for being so swift to deliver this gift to me. I'm sure my boss will love it."

"I'm sure his wife will love it," Soarynn corrects, digging through her purse and pulling out the photos they got with Santa, "look who Ceraphina met."

His interest is piqued since Ceraphina doesn't meet a lot of people and Coriolanus reaches for the photo, "Who do we have here hmm? I see my beautiful Ceraphina and...and Santa? You met Santa without me?"

Ceraphina giggles from his teasing and runs over to him, throwing her arms around his leg, "Daddy he was at the store! I got to tell him what I wanted for Christmas and then we took a picture! And I used my best smile for the picture, didn't I Mommy?"

Soarynn places a loving hand on Ceraphina's hair, "Yes you did," she confirms. Soarynn knew that they'd be taking a lot of family photos once Ceraphina was born, and just photos in general and she knew how much Coriolanus would want any child of theirs to have a nice, sweet smile. He wouldn't stand for their child to make a fuss or whine about having to smile for long periods of time.

So once she was old enough, Soarynn had Ceraphina practice smiling in the mirror, getting the child used to the idea of using a good old Capitol smile. And it paid off tremendously, Ceraphina was absolutely precious whenever she smiled, always complimented for her good manners and attitude when it came to having her photo taken.

Coriolanus grunts and flips through all the photos, "Quite a few pictures," he notes and Soarynn rolls her eyes, remembering how she was swindled into paying for those. "Well we had to get a photo package," she says, "because nothing is free anymore."

Coriolanus smirks and ruffles the hair Soarynn just smoothed down on Ceraphina's head, "Well you look beautiful darling, just like a little princess." Ceraphina beams at his compliments, she's always been a daddy's girl and Coriolanus has been wrapped around her little finger since the day she was born. Soarynn thinks it's sweet how good he is with her, always so patient and gentle.

He'd burn the world down if someone ever tried to hurt her.

"When can we get lunch Mommy?" Ceraphina asks, always ready for a snack or a meal. Soarynn looks down at her watch, it's nearly noon. "I suppose we should start heading out," she muses, "everywhere is bound to be busy."

Coriolanus takes her hand and gives it a squeeze, "I get off in ten minutes for my lunch break, let me ask Eudora to book us a reservation."

Ceraphina gasps, delighted at the idea of having an impromptu lunch with both of her parents. With Coriolanus always at work, she spends the majority of her days with Soarynn so to have lunch with Coriolanus and Soarynn is a treat as special as any.

"Can we go to the place with the good pasta Mommy? Please, please, please?" She begs, letting go of her father's leg to cling to her mother's. Soarynn softly chuckles since she figured Ceraphina would ask about that restaurant, "We certainly can."

Coriolanus goes to call Eudora and Soarynn keeps Ceraphina entertained by holding her on her hip while they look at all the photos Coriolanus keeps on his bookshelf.

A lot of them are from events at work. Soarynn spots a few familiar faces in the photos, faces she went to school with and now they're working alongside Coriolanus with families of their own. It's amazing how quickly time passes. "Oh, there's Mr. Creed," Ceraphina points at Festus standing next to Coriolanus, neither of them smiling because men never smile for photos.

Soarynn nods, pressing a kiss to Ceraphina's cheek, "Very good darling, and there's your father getting promoted."

They look at the photograph of Coriolanus shaking hands with the owner of the company, Quintus Heavensbee. Soarynn remembers being there for the official ceremony where several men were appointed higher-paying jobs and Coriolanus had been one of them. She had been so proud, so happy for him and all of his hard work. He's worked so hard for them and that could never go unnoticed by her.

"There you are, Mommy!"

Soarynn looks at the next photo which happens to be a photograph from their wedding day. Ceraphina loves going through the photo album from their wedding, fascinated by Soarynn's wedding dress and all that took place before she was born.

The photo is a rather stiff one in Soarynn's opinion, it was in the paper if she recalls correctly and they had been instructed not to smile. Coriolanus has a hand wrapped around her waist while Soarynn stands next to him holding her white bouquet of roses. They make quite the handsome pair in her opinion.

"Where are the photos of me?" Ceraphina demands, trying to look over at Coriolanus who's shuffling through some paperwork. He points at a framed photograph sitting on his desk, "Right here darling, so I can always remember why I'm working so hard."

Soarynn rolls her eyes at his choice of words since he's used the same line on her once or twice. Ceraphina wiggles out of Soarynn's hold and runs over to see the photograph. Soarynn walks over as well, curious to see which photo it is.

Coriolanus isn't the most sentimental man, that's more in her field when it comes to their relationship but she knows how much he values family. She rounds his desk and rests a hand on the back of his chair while looking at the adorable photo of Ceraphina. She had to be at least three in this photo, with her blonde curls and blue eyes.

Soarynn sighs while remembering those sweet years. She has a pink bow in her hair and a big smile on her face. "I miss my curls," Ceraphina says, touching her now wavy hair. It almost looks straight some days which she has Soarynn to thank for. Coriolanus is the one sporting the curls in the Snow family. Ceraphina had them for quite some time but they've disappeared over the years.

"But now you look just like your Mommy," Coriolanus says proudly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Ceraphina shrieks when he blows a raspberry against her skin and pushes him away, "Daddy! Ew!"

Coriolanus and Soarynn laugh and she looks over at another photo she never noticed before. It's a photo of her. She looks much younger, probably twenty years old, well before they were engaged. She's holding Petunia in the photo, laughing and from the looks of it, they're on the penthouse rooftop. She looks so happy, so carefree. She doesn't remember Coriolanus ever taking this picture but to know that he framed it means more to her than he'll ever know.

To know that he keeps a picture of her in his office downtown, along with a photo of Ceraphina reminds her that she married the right man. A man who loves her and loves their daughter.

"Eudora was able to get us a table," he tells her, craning his neck to look up at her from his chair. Soarynn smiles and gives the back of his neck a scratch, his favorite place, "Good, we should get going then."

꧁ ꧂

On the way back from the restaurant it starts to snow.

Soarynn watches Ceraphina skip down the sidewalk while holding her father's hand, pointing at different window displays. Soarynn wishes she could photograph this moment and keep it in her pocket forever.

They finally reach his office building and this is where goodbyes must be said.

"Can't we stay with you?" Ceraphina asks hopefully, doing her best to convince him but Coriolanus shakes his head, smiling at her attempts to sway him. "I'm afraid not my darling, I have lots of meetings to attend and you'd be terribly bored."

So would Soarynn and they still have to bake cookies.

"Okay," she says sadly, letting go of his hand, "thank you for lunch, Daddy." Coriolanus smiles, pleased she's using her manners, something else Soarynn has taught her over the years. Coriolanus loves to be thanked, words of affirmation are the key to his heart.

"You're very welcome my angel," he tells her, bending down to give her a proper goodbye kiss on the cheek. Ceraphina gives him one as well, along with a hug before Coriolanus stands back up to his full height. He grins as he pulls Soarynn by her coat sleeve, leaning down to kiss her goodbye. He goes in for a passionate kiss, one that catches her off guard considering they're on a public street in front of his office building but that's never stopped him before.

Soarynn rests a hand on his cheek and sighs into the kiss, they'll definitely start on that baby-making tonight. Now that she's planted the idea in his head, he has to see it through. That's just the type of person Coriolanus Snow is. When they finally pull away, Soarynn is out of breath, "Goodbye," she breathes, giving his cheek a soft pinch.

Coriolanus gives her one last kiss before letting her go, "Goodbye darling, thank you for bringing the gift." She'd forgotten all about the gift, so much has happened today. "I'll see you two tonight," he calls before the doors to the building close behind him. Soarynn and Ceraphina both wave and watch him until he's out of sight.

"That was so romantic," Ceraphina says with a dreamy sigh.

Soarynn takes her small hand and they begin walking in the direction of home, "Your father is rather romantic," she agrees, watching more snow fall onto the ground. "It's like we're in a snow globe," Ceraphina observes, sticking out her tongue in hopes of catching a snowflake.

Soarynn hums and begins to think about having another little snowflake of their own, a sibling for Ceraphina, another baby for her, and Coriolanus.

There was a time when she dreamed of becoming a mother, of getting married to a handsome man who loved her so deeply. She often wondered how she'd know when she met the one. Then she met Coriolanus and it was like the entire universe was saying the same thing over and over to her.

'You are in love.'

Indeed she is.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @villiansarehottest @kickmybark @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee @erensrealgf |

[cheriipetal]

The wrong side of the Altar

Synopsis: At your wedding, Rin is forced to face the feelings he’s long kept hidden from the start of your relationship with a man who wasn't him.

Oneshot | Word Count: 2414 | afab! Reader | Pure angst no comfort

The chatters of the guests blurred into an indistinct hum, grating his ears. The classical music, once a soothing melody, felt like mocking each note made his heart race. Even the chime of the bells felt like a countdown to the end of everything. Everything irritated him.

Weddings were supposed to be about love and new beginnings, but for him it marked his loss and regret. Bitterness clung to him like a second skin, suffocating and inescapable. He could still remember the moments where it was just you two— those fleeting, stolen seconds when he thought he’d always have time.

But time didn’t wait, he didn’t realise what you meant to him until you weren’t his to have. Until someone else saw your love and compassion, the laugh that felt like home, and claimed it while he was frozen, too proud, and too blind to act.

Now you were gonna stand in the altar with a man that wasn’t him.

His regret was piling up recalling the memories that he’d prioritize his goals and soccer over you. How you'd get upset but didn’t let him see it. He realised that it was probably because you thought you were hindering him from his success in achieving what he wanted.

His ears picked up your laughter. He stiffened as you adjusted his tie. The fabric wrapped between your soft and warm hands. His heart beat with every second of it. His eyes adjusted to your white dress, it fitted your complexion well. You always had a knack of finding things that compliment you well. That dress was the kind of thing you’d dream about.

“Rin, you look like a mess.” You playfully said, looping the tie around. “I want you to look good in the pictures— well, you’ll still look handsome even if you look like you haven’t slept for a week.” you teased him.

Rin’s lips turned into a line, he felt a gravel in his throat. “I’ve been busy,” his voice came through, almost distant.

He looked down at you, watching your fingers tie the knot. Did you even realise what you were doing to him?

“You shouldn’t worry how I look,” he added, still frowning, showing his indifference, “it’s not my wedding, after all.”

“Yeah, because you keep pushing women or even men away from you. You’re handsome, a star captain in the japan soccer team, you have money, you have decent— well sometimes decent personality sometimes.” You jabbed at him a bit.

Rin scoffed,“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” he shot back, his tone sharper than intended.

His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. “Maybe I just don’t see the point,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear. “None of that matters if it’s not with the right person.”

“Then find them, if you really want to find the right person then don’t just be frozen in place, run and go.” You advised, finally done with his tie. You firmly straightened the fabric.

“What if I already found them?” His eyes showed vulnerability, itching for her to notice him. Wanting and longing for her to change her mind and be with him instead.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You encouraged him. Those words alone made him want to say he loved you right there.

But, he didn’t. Rin messed up a lot of things in his life. His blunt self made it harder to say what, how he felt— but it always came out wrong and not what he intended.

Rin’s heart skipped a beat at your words, the space between you suddenly feeling too small. He opened his mouth, the words almost there, but they choked in his throat. His gaze flickered away, as if afraid of what might slip out if he spoke.

“I... I don’t know if I can,” he muttered, his voice low and raw. “saying it now... it just feels too late.”

He caught your eyes for a split second, vulnerability in his own flickering like a dying flame. He wanted to say the words—he wanted to tell you how much he felt, how much he needed you—but the weight of all his failures kept him frozen

Some of the guests could be heard at the other side of the door. The awkwardness between them is heavy in the air. You pulled your hands back away from him. You weren’t sure how to break the silence between you two.

Rin’s gaze momentarily looks at the door, where the groom was laughing with others. He could feel his jaw tightened subconsciously. Everytime he even saw your fiance, he’d always have this scowl look.

You cleared your throat. Seeing the opening for a conversation, you took it, eyes lingering on Rin for a moment. “So… what do you think of him?”

Your voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something else— an unspoken question hanging in the air.

.

Rin opened his mouth to answer but hesitated, his mind scrambling for the right words. What did he think of him? He couldn’t bring himself to admit it, even to himself.

All he could come up with was that he hated him—hated him for taking you away from him. Why did it take him so long to realize?

Soccer had always been his life—he’d worked for it, sacrificed for it. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. You were the one who mattered most. He had realized it too late, and now the realization gnawed at him, sharp and bitter.

“He’s... alright,” he finally said, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears. It was a weak, vague answer—one that concealed the raw truth.

“I’m surprised you didn’t fight him when I said he and I were dating, honestly. I was kind of scared for him because of how much you send death glares with every man that even flirted with me.” You say with an awkward chuckle. Recalling the memories of how Rin would act so fast.

Rin’s eyes narrowed at the countless memories, and a brief moment his face hardened. “They deserved it,” he said with indifference— but not aimed towards you, to them.

—

The music changed, signalling the bride's arrival. Rin’s gaze shifted involuntarily towards the aisle, his heart pounding with every note that played. Everything seemed to slow down around him, each step echoing louder than the last as you moved closer.

Everyone was at awe by your beauty, he didn’t blame them. He was enamoured by your movements— how you looked.

Rin’s thoughts raced, the weight of everything he couldn’t say settling heavily on his shoulders. As the soft murmur of the guests filled the air. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing besides him— if only things turned out differently.

The room was alive with quiet excitement, the glow of candlelight reflecting off the polished surfaces. Laughter drifted through the air, but all Rin could hear was the steady beat of his own heart—faster now, as if it too understood the finality of what was about to happen.

A soft chime echoed through the room, and the guests fell silent, their eyes turning toward the aisle. Rin’s breath hitched in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from where you would soon stand, arm-in-arm with him—the man you’d chosen.

The two of you said your vows, said “I do” to the question, and made the first kiss of your marriage. His body felt cold like he was trapped in the pile of snow and it was numb. It felt like someone struck a poison into him. He hated this feeling, he experienced it before when Sae said those words that left a chokehold on him for years.

He needed a drink to wash all the pain away.

—

The venue you rented was beautiful but he was too busy swallowing in his misery to even enjoy the wedding reception. He sat down in the stool ordering a heavy drink.

You were married now, it was too late for him to do anything. He can only watch on the sidelines with you living your life with another man. The bartender then handed him the glass of alcohol.

He drank it to his heart's content. The alcohol was bitter— reflecting his own emotions back at him. Alcohol was distasteful and unhealthy, he doesn’t usually drink but he’ll make an exception for just this night, to not think.

“Really want to get into the mood, huh?” your husband talked to him. Rin was already in a bad mood, your husband made it even worse.

“I guess,” Rin said with indifference, he sipped on the drink more.

“You should be hanging out with the others instead of being here all alone, she’d want you to have fun!” The words stung more than the groom probably realized.

Did he think Rin could just ‘have fun’ when everything felt wrong? He could barely keep his thoughts straight, let alone smile for the sake of others

Rin gripped his glass harder, the cold surface pressing into his palm. He could feel his vision start to blur, the alcohol doing its work. But it didn’t numb the anger. It only made it sharper.

He could feel his jaw clench, his heart rate quicken. The groom didn’t know anything. He didn’t know the weight of this situation. And every word he said made Rin’s patience thin.

Then your husband notices Rin’s reactions. He knew what was up, and that he saw how Rin would look at you, how he’d loosen up when he was with you, and now he was miserable at the wedding.

“Hey, it’s tough, I get it,” the groom says. “But you’re a great guy, Rin. You’ve got so much going for you. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s always the future, right? Maybe even someone else out there for you too.”

The more your husband said, the worse it got for Rin. It wasn’t that the groom was wrong—he was just too far removed from what Rin was feeling.

It wasn’t about finding someone else or “moving on”—it was about the one person Rin couldn’t have anymore. The one person who was slipping further away with every passing second because of him.

His grip on the glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, bitterness seeping through his voice. “You think this is just some passing thing, that I’ll ‘get over with it’. You don’t know what it feels like you’ve lost everything…. Especially when you never got the chance to tell her how you even felt. So don’t just fucking sit there and tell me that everything is okay,” with every breath, he could smell the alcohol.

“I… I didn’t mean to upset you,” the groom said, a bit taken aback. “I’m just trying to help, man. You’re a good guy, Rin. You’ll be alright.”

“Can you shut it? You think you’re the one who gets to take her away, don’t you? You think you’re the perfect guy for her, but you don’t even see it. You’re just the safe option, the ‘right choice’ on paper. All you’ve done is show up with your polished image and your nice words, pretending like you’re everything she needs—

I’m not perfect, I never was. I screwed up, I pushed her away when I should’ve held on. But I’m the one who understands her. I know what makes her laugh when she’s sad. You’re just a lukewarm piece of trash that she pitied.” He let out all his anger. All his frustrations. With each word uttered it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders but grew more distant with his stabled mind.

“Rin,” he felt his wrist being grabbed by soft hands. His eyes looked up to see you standing there with a mix of frustration and disappointment. He was being dragged to an empty room.

He knew what was about to come, you were gonna give him a lesson, scolding him like you used to do whenever he did shit like this.

"I get it, Rin. You’re hurt. I know you care about me, but this... this isn’t how you handle it. I won’t let you disrespect him and my choice. I won’t stand for it, not after everything we’ve been through.” You touched his shoulder gently.

“You made a shitty choice.” Rin said coldly. You could smell the alcohol in his breath, too far gone to think clearly right now.

“Rin, I am proud of my decision— I love him, he never pushes me away, he never makes me feel like I’m an idiot, he never makes me feel like I was his second priority. I don’t know why you don’t want this for me, can’t you see for once… that I’m happy?”

Rin’s eyes widened, his face twisting in anger, pain, and something else— something raw and almost desperate. “And you’re saying that you found someone who can see your feelings, prioritize and love you. Then what was I? Who the hell was I to you?!”

You stepped back, your chest tightening with a mix of guilt and sorrow. “A person I love,” you said, your voice almost a whisper now. “But who taught me that love isn’t always enough.”

You couldn’t stand it anymore, everything was too overwhelming for you. Rin was too hurt— you couldn’t look him in the eyes without feeling guilty. Feeling like shit, you turned around and left the room, hoping the silence would ease your thoughts.

As you left the room, it was just him with his thoughts. His gaze lingering on the doorway where you just left. His hands grip on his suit, wrinkling it, his knuckles turned white. “What was I?” the question echoed in his mind, a haunting refrain. The words that he spat out were wrong now.

His chest tightened for a moment, the alcohol buried in his veins, dulling the clarity he had left, but only left every once of guilt that he had. How could he let it get this far? He was too damn proud… to be caught up in his own world to notice you needed more than he was giving.

Now, there you were—standing with someone else, someone who could make you happy, someone who wasn’t him.

Rin clenched his fists and took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. Nothing could. He had missed his chance.

[sturmjeager]

Soooo, yeah this is my first ever thing on Here and i Just felt like yapping a bit about my own Transformers AU species.

Today i think i will tell y'all about the Stormseekers.

The Stormseekers are a Subspecies to the Regular Seekers we know, exeot that they are built to with stand strong Storms and even directly Hits of lighting, which resulted in heavier frames and usually thicker armour plates that isolate them quite well. Their wings are formed differently as well, describing more of a half moon shape that ends somewhere beneath their knees.

The Stormseekers are native to Thetrahex and arent that Rich in Population anymore due to the war and them Not really wanting to participate in it and usually fleeing.

Their anatomy is, as stated before, different to the one of a Regular Seeker. They tend to be quite tall and can be Born with different Mutations. The Femmes can be Born with a second pair of wings and would be called Splitwings. This Mutation is a rather rare one and does usually Not Show up on Mechs, but it has happend once or twice before. The drawback of this Mutation is that die to the second wings they get more stabalized during flights, yet it needs more energy to keep them in the air since their wings are quite Heavy to prevent them from being torn off by the Winds. This can cause a weaker Spark then average, which cant be cured.

The Mechs on the other Hand, can have a second pair of eyes in the reverse colour of their Regular ones. If closed, the second pair is Not visible for others which is usually kept this way since the eyes are very sensitive to sunlight and can easily get worse with too much direct contact. They See better in the dark, being able to grant some Kind of lesser effective nightvision.

Two Mutations known to occur on bith genders equally, is the different Form of the legs and having four fingers on each Hand instead of five. The four fingers on each Hand will be longer and sharper, sharper then the usual "claws" This Seekers have. The legs are more animal like, rather reminding of a Predacon then to a Seeker. It is unknown why this Mutation formed in the first place, but like all the others, they can be inherited. They may skip a Generation or two, but the Chance of inheritance is quite High.

Now moving on to their plating. The Stormseekers are usually Held in the colours of the sky on different Times of the Day and weathers, ranging from the reddish Orange of a sunset to the White, purplish and Green auroras seen on the poles of Cybertron. The most common colour for them are different shades of gray and/or blue. Their bodies are Covered in Black markings, which Start to occur when the Cybertronian reaches the adult age. First the unique markings beneath their eyes will form, which no other Stormseeker will have. The ones of siblings Look alike, but Not even the ones of Twins are the same.

This Seeker Subspecies has quite some differences from the genders. The Femmes' wings are more bent then the ones of the males and thinner, ending in sharpee edges then the rather softer and rounder wings of the Mechs. The Mechs on the other Hand tend to have more spikier helms, leaving them with what almost seem to be Horns. Both genders have a quite bendy structure at the side of their head, ressembling what almost seem to be feathers. Some have them rounded, others have them as sharp as a sword.

The wings of this Specie are quite sensitive, as all Seeker wings are. The outher edges are less sensitive for them tho, since those are regularly bumped against too narrow doors. The wings usually have Stripes on them in different forms per Individual, but all are sensitive. Exspecially the Part where they connect to the back and the Tips of their wings. The Rest is sensitive as well and can cause a Seeker to shudder, but it's usually quite calming to receive a little Massage there.

Their culture is quite similiar to the ones of the Regular Seekers, being quite Skybound their culture focuses more on the skies then the one of the grounders. They are also more Fond of air races then the Vosnian Seekers, having atleast one large race per year that is opend by a flight show, showing how well they can move through the air.

They can also have built in weapons, a variety of Blasters that hide in their hands, two Canons on their back which they can move forewards to shoot (Even tho this is mostly added as a defense, a few have them naturally) and also some Kind of a bent double blade which can Transform from their wrists and can be added to the already natural weapons.

... And yes, thay have heels.

So, this is probably everything i have for them right now, it's a large amount i know. But i like to think about my species and try to make everything reasonable.. Atleast a bit.

To whoever reads all this, please go to sleep this is probably some tired person at 2am that says "Just one more post..." XD

Anyways, Thanks for listening!

- Sturm