#I love that kind of angsty pain where my chest hurts

[bokutoasavillain]

Send help I’m reading a bingyuan fanfic and it’s angsty and my chest hurts

[happiest-hotch]

The Brink of Collapse

Summary: Aaron and reader have been on the brink of divorce for a long time. And then suddenly he's there, and feelings come to a head.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: very angsty, talk of divorce, mentions of strippers

It's been an odd month.

Surreal, in some ways.

You and Aaron have been on the brink of divorce for a while, but once you finally said the word, everything changed. It opened up a new world of feelings and even more hurt.

It didn't seem possible to feel more hurt, but here you are, sitting on the couch, feet tucked beside you, and a glass of wine on the coffee table. You need it for your nighttime reading, the first draft of a separation agreement, your and Aaron's full names on the top.

It feels like physical proof that you and Aaron have failed. Every sacrifice that was made in the decade you had been together wasn't enough. All the love in the world wasn't enough.

It hits you in a deeper place in your chest than you knew existed, and it makes breathing difficult.

Those papers are a taunt you've been putting off confronting, but it's time. It's something you have to do.

Your eyes gloss over the words, but you catch yourself slipping into a defense strategy where your name is removed from you, and it's a draft divorce settlement of detached clients.

"Late-night reading?" His voice makes you jump, startled by his appearance in front of you.

You had spaced out, thought he escaped through the front door to avoid whatever this awkward situation could be categorized as. You find yourself wishing that he did as he looks at you, trying to profile your thoughts. Dick.

You're both trying to keep life somewhat normal for the children, not wanting them to be caught up in your mess which means when he's in DC, he picks them up for the day and drops them back home. You just thought he'd leave out the front door rather than come across the house to talk to you.

"It's not that late." You reply. "Do you actually want to do this?" You're not sure why you ask, not when it's going to hurt.

"Do what, Ms. L/n?" Aaron asks, but he knows. He walks behind the couch and into the kitchen, taking the open bottle of wine and pouring himself a glass without invitation.

"Get divorced." You answer before adding something you probably shouldn't since there's no need. "I'm still technically Mrs. Hotchner."

He doesn't chuckle at your quip, but he looks close. "You wouldn't be holding that if we didn't." Carefully chosen words, as expected. "I've always loved that part of your name."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That's a conflicting message."

Aaron shrugs, sitting down on the couch next to you. You kind of wish he hadn't. He could have just gone back to wherever he's staying and you wouldn't have to do this metaphorical dance.

"They're not mutually exclusive." He explains. You try to keep a neutral expression, but it's hard to hear that your soon-to-be ex-husband likes that you have the same surname. "I love the name, doesn't mean we can't get divorced."

"I won't be Mrs. Hotchner then." You remind him, but you keep it lighthearted in tone.

The air is getting too grave and when things get too grave, you both say too much. It's painful conversation, of late. No more 'I love you's and bleeding heart promises of fixing it. You both know you're beyond repair so you talk about that, and it's getting depressing.

He shrugs. "Not necessarily. Plenty of women keep the name after divorce."

Divorce.

That dirty word that's become your reality.

"I've not considered it." You confess. It seems easier to be honest about something little. "Would it bother you? If I kept it?"

He waits a beat, staring into the semi-opaque wine. "No. Not in the slightest."

"I feel it could get real awkward." You admit and he frowns, not understanding what you mean. "When someone says, 'Oh, are you related to Aaron Hotchner' and I have to say, 'Yeah, he's my ex-husband.' I mean, you know half this town."

Aaron considers it for a second, that thoughtful frown on his brows. "I hadn't considered it." Obviously. "You have my blessing if you keep it."

You chuckle humorlessly. "Thanks."

"This whole thing doesn't have to be adversarial." He reminds you, but it's not condescending. He's almost smiling, lips tugging up at the corners.

Your eyes narrow at him. "Have I done something to make this feel adversarial?"

It's snider than it needs to be, but he comes back professionally. "No. But I've seen couples in our situation start arguing, even yelling, at every step."

You snort out a laugh. "The life of divorce attorneys, right?" He's telling it like you don't know like you're not still in the job he left for the FBI. You bite your bottom lip, considering whether to drive the conversation in a different direction, and come to the conclusion that it might make the conversation lighter and with it, stop the clenching feeling of your heart. "Do you still remember the Beamounts?"

He laughs louder than you've heard in a while. That does the trick and gives you a quick breath of relief, but it's gone as soon as it's there. "I couldn't forget it." He assures you. "Do you still have her little card? The one you kept in your wallet?"

You're almost giddy listening to him laugh, and it makes you giggle as you recall it. "Yes! She ran those exotic dance clubs, I remember. I'm still not sure if I'm offended she gave me the card… like, I can't work out if she thought I might be interested and would want to come watch, or if she thought I'd like to leave seven years of school and a law career behind to strip."

"Do you want me to take care of that card? It's been in there for what? Twelve years?"

His offer throws you a little, but your reaction comes out as teasing. "Oh, do you need her card? Now that we're about to be divorced?"

"I certainly don't." Unsurprising, he has no trouble with women. "But I do want to preserve your wallet's purity."

"I think she gave me the non-explicit version." You explain to him. "I'm sure there are some racy ones out there for guys that are into that stuff..." Something prompts you to push it further. "Like you."

Aaron laughs again, and you get another breath. "Very occasionally." He assures you.

"There's photographic evidence, Aaron." You remind him, smiling softly at the photos Morgan showed you of some BAU boys' nights out. Aaron looked so uncomfortable, and you're sure he spent the entire evening refusing to look at any woman's assets. It makes your stomach churn knowing that, if the situation arises again, he won't act the same way. "Unfortunately, good old Mrs. Beamount is spoken for these days, so I guess the card has no use to you."

He hits you with something you don't expect, although maybe you should have since it's in line with your mutual reminiscing. "That was the first time we met. Just baby lawyers thrown into the craziest case."

"I remember laughing with you about how ridiculous it was." The first time you laughed together about that, you breathed deeper than you ever have before. "Do you remember the thing with the dog?"

He snorts with laughter. It's probably not meant to be as attractive a sound as it is. "That damn chihuahua he insisted was possessed? I remember being so annoyed because I knew the dog couldn't be possessed. I kept asking myself what I'd done so wrong in my life that I had a client expecting me to argue it." Hearing his thoughts now is different than just laughing about back then. "Then when we got there, the damn animal was barking and growling in a demonic way. That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my life. It was possessed."

The passion with how he talks about a damn dog makes you smile. "Now imagine everyone seeing that and having to argue it wasn't demonic." You remind him of what your position was as his opposing counsel. "I felt so ridiculous arguing it. And she wanted the divorce settlement to include him taking it to the groomer." You shake your head disapprovingly at the memory. "It creeped me out that she kept it in her purse. That was the ugliest dog I'd ever seen."

It's odd to be laughing with him, considering your precarious relationship circumstances, and even odder that it's about the first case. Surely it should be about what Eden said today, bonding over your kids seems less intimate than talking about when you met.

"I remember she even tried to make herself look more motherly and nurturing in court, by taking care of it during the proceedings." He continues.

It's like you're watching the whole thing again, but you know how it ends. "I was just praying she wouldn't start breastfeeding it." You say. "Her boobs were so plastic that I think if she put that rabid dog near them, he'd chew them."

Aaron loses it laughing, clearly seeing the mental image that worried you 12 years ago. "Okay, okay, that's enough." He finally manages to get out.

You finish off the laughter, letting it die down rather than continuing the conversation.

"What did you think of me?" He asks, a surprising tangent. "When we first met?"

You know he knows since it had been discussed it a few times between dating and marriage, wanting to reminisce. Why he's asking now, you're not sure, and why you're answering, you're even less sure.

"I thought you were a jerk." You admit.

He laughs, but he's thinking about whether you think that again now. "Yeah?" He prompts you to go on.

"That's what happens when you arrive at a mediation meeting five minutes late with Ferrari keys." You remind him with the same disapproving frown.

You can still remember when he walked into the big boardroom, dressed in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit with his hair longer than it is now and parted down the middle. Compared to now, he looked so young, just 25 and straight out of law school, not having seen the most awful parts of the world. He's different now. His shoulder bag switched out for a briefcase being the most minor change.

When he walked into the room that first day, you were equally as pissed off by and attracted to him. It's full circle that you feel that way again.

"I had to find parking." He reasons.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You didn't valet your car?"

"After the Ferrari, things were tight," Aaron says, but it's a joke. You both know he has money, the separation agreement dividing your assets wouldn't be so long if neither of you had money. "What about after that?" He asks. Sadistic or masochistic, you're not sure. It hurts you to relieve it in your memory, but is it hurting him?

"I was leaving that meeting. As fast as I could, of course." You pause for his laughter. "And you were already in the elevator." It hurts to recall, just like you expected. "I wondered if I should join you."

You still wonder now, if you made the right decision that day. On one hand, you'd have none of the good memories, but on the other, you wouldn't feel like your chest was clenching and your heart was threatening to shatter with each breath.

You decide to keep telling the story. "And I did. And you made me laugh, right off the bat, both of us giggling about the ridiculousness of our clients."

"Not very professional." He notes with a smirk. "Opposing counsel gossiping about their clients."

Your eyebrows pull together in a frown. "Why'd you make the first joke then?"

He wants to tell you it's because he needed to make you laugh, just to hear it and see you smile. His fear takes over and he settles for a quip. "I mean, you looked uptight, but I could tell you weren't."

Your scoff is accompanied by you hitting his shoulder, both of you laughing and it suddenly hits you that you're flirting with him.

It must hit him too because what he says is out of left field. "Part of me wonders if the reason you're only just looking at that is because, on some level, you're hoping we'll fix things and get back together." Fuck! Aaron has always been a straight shooter, but that was far too much honesty.

You gulp, the saliva in your mouth drying up. "Hey, let's just not go there, okay?" You offer. It's not a conversation you want to be having. Your mixed emotions coupled with his ability to push you, it's not a good combination.

"Sure." He admits, but his tone suggests he's unhappy, and so does his sigh. You're begging him with your eyes not to push it, to leave the house and the conversation, and not make it awkward and hurtful. "I never wanted this to be an argument. Do you know that? I know I've never been great at communicating and all this, but I've always tried to do the best for you, always tried to... I mean, I've never gotten divorced before, so I'm still feeling out the right way to do it."

You're not impressed he's lying through his teeth. Both of you know he didn't "always" do his best at communicating. Those last few months, he barely spoke to you. In fact, this conversation might contain more words than an entire few months.

And is there a "right way" to get divorced? You don't know, but you wish you could stop picking apart everything he's saying, overanalyzing.

You're caught on the first statement. "This isn't an argument, is it?"

"I guess not, but there's a vibe." He points out. "Maybe I'm being hypersensitive. Listen, I know this is hard. I think we both knew this probably wasn't going to be the easiest thing, right?"

You avert your gaze from him, a few tears welling in your eyes. "Yeah, we knew that."

"Hey, look at me." He implores.

You tilt your head to the ceiling, trying to stop crying before you start.

"If you're not ready to do this, then please just talk to me." He says- begs. "Please talk to me."

It's ironic really, him sitting there begging you to talk to him when formerly, it's been you doing the begging for him to share his feelings with you. An embarrassing amount of begging, really.

"Please don't do this." You beg back. "I'm not interested in the idea of being vulnerable in front of you, okay?"

He sighs a bit, hands falling to his side. The look on his face you can read. He's upset about not being able to comfort you, and he's begging himself not to show it. What the fuck does that mean?

"Fine." He agrees. "It's... I don't think I ever fully realized how much this whole thing would hurt, but I'm seeing it now."

You don't thank him sarcastically for being obvious. It's twisted that he's spilling his emotions now, and it's hard not to be resentful about it. If he had just fucking talked to you when you begged him to every night in your last month together, you wouldn't be here. It's too little, too late.

"I guess." You agree. "We'll just get it over with."

It stings his heart, so he stings you back. Whether it's intentional or on reaction, you can't tell. "Maybe you're right and we should get it drafted and signed so we can be finished as soon as possible." But, most surprisingly, he flip-flops. "I miss you, Y/n."

It's the same rollercoaster of emotions that your brain is riding in your head, but at least you're not saying it out loud and confusing the shit out of him. "Don't say that, Aaron." You warn him.

He has the nerve to be surprised by your harsh tone. "...what? It's just a fact. I miss you. Why is that bad to say?"

"Because I missed you for four months while you had one foot out the door of this marriage." You finally snap.

Aaron looks stunned and it only makes you angrier and more upset. "I know," He tells you.

He knows, but he'd never do anything about it. You try to act casual, taking a deep breath. "Okay." You attempt to leave it at that.

He won't let the conversation go. "I should have fought for us."

"You still can." You're not sure why you say it, but you do. Maybe you give him one last chance because you'll regret it forever if you don't.

"I am more in love with you than I have ever been." He bursts out, unable to help himself given the chance.

It makes your heart soar and your eyes water. You sit there silently, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly like it might protect you.

"I never should have put you in a position where you felt like something was wrong with us." Aaron looks at you so sincerely that you can't help the tears running down your cheeks. "It got to a point where I felt like I couldn't fix it so I didn't try, and I'm aware that was the wrong choice every day."

"I don't know what to say." You tell him. "Why bother coming to this conclusion, and telling me about it, when it's too late?" Maybe you're protecting yourself more than you need to be.

Aaron shakes his head. "Because it isn't."

"Aaron." You shake your head, holding up the literal divorce papers that exist to remind him. "So much has happened in the last four months."

"Not too much, though." He emphasizes.

He's pushing a button that makes your emotions boil over. "I don't even know where you're sleeping." You remind him firmly.

"Holy shit, Y/n!" Aaron's quick to assure you of what might have been going on in your head. "No." He pauses. "I'm sleeping at my office." You can't say that doesn't relieve you. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on. Since the day I met you, I've never looked at anyone the same."

His strong assurances make you cry more. "I don't know if we can fix this." You admit, disappointed in yourself.

"We absolutely can." He pleads to you. "You said we should get a divorce because love isn't enough to make this better, but there is more than love here. I am committed to you and I want to fix this."

You continue your tears and he reaches out to touch your cheek, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You lean into his soft touch. "I do too." You admit, the realization alleviating some of the aching in your chest.

"You mean the world to me," Aaron tells you firmly. "I will do anything to get us back on track. I wasn't before and I know I was stupid for it, but I'm listening, Y/n. To everything you need and want."

"I think we need help." You confess. "Like professional help."

He can't nod fast enough. "I agree. We can get that."

You stop him before he can pull out his phone. "Tomorrow." You request. "I just want a hug."

He hasn't had you in his arms in far too long, and he reaches out for you. You lay on his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Wow, I've missed you." He hums, breathing out a deep sigh of relief.

You sniffle your tears, nodding in agreement. "Me too."

"Y/n, I will never let it get this far again," Aaron assures you. "I was stupid and I can't lose you. I love you."

You're sure you feel the same way. Everything definitely wasn't fixed and there was a lot to do, but one thing you're sure about is being married to Aaron Hotchner. "I love you too."

[fieldofdaisiies]

Broken Crown

pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader | type: angsty | words: 3,3k words | warnings: topics like pregnancy and kidnapping someone while pregnant are discussed as well as bad family relationships; based on this request

“Share your worries with me, my love.” Your hand tenderly caresses his arm, feeling his tense muscles beneath the tips of your fingers. “You shouldn’t carry the burden of them all alone.”

Eris‘ shoulders rise and fall with a deep inhale, and slowly he turns his head to you. There is a small, sad smile on his lips. His eyes close, and you can see the pain, the worry, etched upon his face.

His hand lifts and comes to rest on the barely-there bump of your belly. “I worry about you, my love,” he says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “This,” —he flexes his fingers, before softly pressing down just the tiniest bit— “put you in more danger than you can ever imagine.”

Your hand folds over his. “I know that it could get dangerous.” You sit up in bed and Eris‘ hand falls to your thigh. “But only if Beron finds out. We will be careful, we have been careful for so long. He won’t know.”

Eris wants to believe you. He desperately does, but it is so damn hard. You are his mate and in your womb you carry his child. There is nothing but worry in his mind, his whole body in a constant state of fear for you two.

“And even if he found out, I could always run and escape and you would protect me.” You lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder. “Don‘t worry so much, my mate, and rather enjoys these fleeting moments we can share.” Turning your head a little, you kiss his arm. “We only have this time together, please, try to make the best of it.”

Eris sighs, but silently agrees and lies down in bed with you, his arm curled around you, his other hand once again resting on your belly, thumb stroking idly over your belly. Your shirt has risen a bit, and Eris used the chance to place his palm right on top of your skin, his warmth the most soothing thing to exist in this world.

“I can’t wait for Beron to be gone and for us to be able to love each other openly.” He turns his face to you and kisses your brow. “And I cannot wait to watch our little babe grow up. I know they will be as beautiful as their mother.”

“And their father,” you chime in and a small grin appears on your lips. Your mate chuckles and it makes his chest vibrate beneath you. 

He holds you for the rest of the night, always close, always tight. You know he doesn’t sleep. No for a single moment. Eris often finds it hard to fall asleep, or to sleep through or to feel enough at ease to entertain the thought of sleep.

In your early face of seeing each other he has slept well, telling you you brought him enough comfort to do so. It all changed when the mating bond snapped, and especially when you got pregnant. He hasn’t had a moment of rest since then, you think. And that hurts you, and you also feel guilty.

————————

The moment Eris leaves your secret meeting place in the morning, he covers her scent. Beron can’t be able to detect anything. To make sure you are safe, he also strengthens the shield he has put over you, covering both your pregnancy and any kind of small ounce of Eris‘ scent that should cling to you.

He smooths a hand over his long hair and i hales deeply, worry and uncertainty making his chest feel a little too tight. 

With a heavy heart, he returns to the First House, not able to meet his father’s gaze while they eat dinner in silence.

“Where have you been all night?” Beron asks and in the corner of his eye, Eris‘ notices how his mother‘s posture stuffs, her fingers curling tightly around her fork.

“Out.” Eris is tight, and quick. Maybe a tang too quick. 

Beron drops his fork with a snarl. “I have noticed as much. But where exactly have you been.”

Eris swallows thickly, the piece of meat he has just eaten almost getting stuck in his throat. Taking a gulp of water, he clears his throat. “I checked on the war camp—”

“Which one?”

“Thundercliff.”

Beron dips his chin to his chest and forks a piece of potatoes, chewing it with his mouth half open. “What did you want there?”

“See if everything was alright.”

“You slept there?”

Eris nods. “I did.”

Beron says nothing, only turns his attention back to his plate.

For the rest of the dinner, his father doesn’t talk to him anymore, or care about him, too focused on his food to even deign his son another glance.

Or so Eris thinks…

—————————

Two days have passed and Eris is sitting on needles. His fingers nervously drum an unsteady rhythm on his knee, his chest rising and falling with deep intakes of air.

You are always on time. You have not once been late in all the time you have known each other. Where the hell are you now?

His heartbeat picks up, the organ now hammering against his ribs. Eris feels how dread coils within him.

Where could you be?

Of course worry kicks in immediately, a myriad of thoughts bubbling up about something awful having happened to you. Maybe you were caught, maybe some medical issues, maybe Beron—

He won’t allow his thoughts to go there. There probably is a good explanation for why you are late. Maybe you got held up, maybe you weren’t feeling too, maybe you simply forgot.

Eris lets himself fall back onto the bed, groaning loudly. His heart is still racing, his skin clammy with cold sweat, fear and panic curling around his heart like a vice. 

He could go looking for you, but worries that would only get you into more danger. He can’t go home to you — no one knows about your relationship. If the heir to the Autumn Court would suddenly show up at your home, word would spread quickly and this would end fataö for you. He can’t risk it.

All he can do is wait. And hope. Hope that you will arrive shortly and that you are unharmed.

It is what he does — waiting, while being plagued by thoughts and ideas of all the terrible things that could have happened to you.

He needs to find you, his father and the people who gossip about you two be damned. 

Eris waits a moment longer, really making sure you are not arriving and by the time he gives up, the sun has already set behind the horizon, the Autumn Court now bathed in endless darkness.

Eris heads back home with a heavy heart, always on the look-out to catch sight of you, a trace or some hint of your whereabouts.

He needs to get his hound, give them your trace, and then let them help him find you. 

In moments like these, he wishes he wouldn’t have had to glamour the bond. He could simply tug at it and be led to you — but he can’t. Not with the magic he used to cover any small hint of it.

It would make things so much easier, but Eris knows that life isn’t easy for him, and has never been. That is not how it is supposed to be, his life was never meant to be simple — his fate was doomed the moment he was born.

Breathing heavily and with his heart hurting painfully,, Eris eventually returns to the Forest House after waiting for hours. If he doesn’t hear from you until the morning, he will go look, no matter the consequences.

The door falls shut behind him with a loud thump. It doesn’t startle him, he is too wrapped up in his worries to even notice. 

But one person in the Forest House does definitely notice.

“Eris!” Beron’s low voice hollows through the empty, cold corridors and it sends a shiver down the heir‘s spine — Beton is enraged, Eris can hear that in his voice.

His eyes close and he doesn’t want to move forward, already having an inkling of what might expect him and he could never accept it. 

If something happened to you, he would forever blame himself. And if you…the Mother forbid — he isn’t able to finish his thought. But without you in his life, he wouldn’t want to live on. He couldn’t do so. His heart would be in pieces, nothing but bloody, broken shards.

“Father,” he says and bows his head low, after the whole way to the end of the corridor where Beron‘s office is situated, has become a blur.

Slowly, the High Lord lifts his gaze from the table and a viscous grin splits his dry lips.

“Such a pretty little thing you have found yourself,” he drawls. “But she is nothing more than pretty and unfortunately lower fae.” 

Eris fingers curl towards his palms while his whole body feels like caving in, his heart cracking open.

“Nothing more than a piece of trash — in other words, scum. And I won‘t allow my sons to fool around with that kind of fae, hasn’t the thing with Lucien taught you anything?”

“What did you do?” Eris shouts and panic rolls through him.

“I took care of her so you wouldn’t have to bother with her any longer.”

He didn’t kill her, that is for sure, Eris still feels the bond. But Beron touched her, hurt her and he will pay for that. 

“You hurt her!” Eris spits, a fury coats his insides, making him see red.

“I am not such a cruel beast, since she finds herself with a…child I didn’t touch her. Mostly. And I assume it's yours?” Beron raises a brow, but gives Eris no chance to say anything as the answer is clear as water anyway. “Matters will take care of themselves though and neither of them will be a problem for you in the future — not the slut, nor the little bastard..” A sadistic smile replaces the former expression on his face.

Eris would kill him straightaway, but he needs Beton to tell him where you are. He can’t find you otherwise and you would…

“Where is she?” Eris dashes to Beron’s desk, his hands slamming down on the wooden surfaces. “You will tell me where she is! I demand it!”

Eris once again tugs at the bond but gets no answer. Nothing but cool silence from your side. You are surely hidden somewhere by Beron’s magic, somewhere where Eris will never be able to find you without Beron telling him. It could take days, weeks, months and that is too long. Too dangerous.

“Tell me!” he shouts again when Beton says nothing.

Beron tips his head back and roars with laughter. Once calm again, he says, “You demand it? As much as I remember I am the High Lord and your nothing more than a little—”

“I invoke the Blood Duel.” He is driven by fury and fear — a lethal combination.

The temperature in the room drops at least ten degrees and outside thunder strikes. Never in the history of the Autumn Court has ever a son invoked a Blood Duel against their father, and certainly not against the High Lord. This is about to change now.

“You are a fool, Eris Vanserra, think about the consequences.”

“I invoked the Blood Duel — you and me, a battle to death.” Eris straightens his posture, staring down at his father who is still sitting at his desk, now stiff as a pole. Eris is sure a flicker of hesitation and maybe also fear passes over his father‘s face, knowing what his son is capable of.

Slowly, a smirk spreads over Beron’s face and he reaches his hand out. “I accept.”

—————

The sun has barely risen, only merely peeking forward from behind thick clouds in the sky, bathing the Autumn Court forest in a soft yellowish glow.

Eris takes the last sip from his small flask when a knock sounds on his door. He places the small bottle down, and smoothes his hands down his jacket and his breeches.

“Lord Eris, it’s time,” a sentry calls.

“Coming!” the heir answers. His hand grasps his knife, the one made by Nesta Archeron, tightly and then he sets out.

Everything is going to change today if he is leaving this duel as its victor. The whole fate of the Autumn Court lies in his hands now. Beron has to fall, Eris has to win. When it is over he will find you, save you and proclaim you as his mate in front of all the Autumn Court. He will be the High Lord and you his High Lady.

The moment he steps outside, and the cool morning air greets him, he can hear hollowing and cheering — not for him, but for his father who is probably already strutting around the place where the duel will take place like a proud peacock.

Eris feels a knot tightening in his stomach, his heart almost pounding out if his chest. It is not the wish of becoming High Lord that drives him forward, but the fear about what happened to you and your whereabouts. He doesn’t care about anything else, he only needs to find you. And having to kill his own father…not an easy task, but one that needs to be taken earlier or later anyway. One he is willing to take for you.

Blood is thicker than water, is the saying. But you are his mate, and nothing is stronger than that.

Eris feels his throat tightening with anxiety, but drawing in a few deep inhales, he manages to calm himself a little and then moves into the glade, the open space for the duel, around which many Autumn Court citizens are already gathered.

“Father!” he greets, and can see the colour visibly drain from Beron‘s face when the High Lord turns to him. Beron had most definitely thought Eris would put his tail between his legs and would not show up.

But Eris Vanserra is no coward. And he will win this today. For you and the future of this court.

And so he mounts his horse, lance in one hand, shield in the other, and enters into a duel of life and death. And that against his own father.

Beron lands the first strike, but other than a small gash, his attack doesn’t do much harm. Very much to the High Lord’s surprise, Eris thinks, because he knows exactly that Beron dipped his lance in faebane, playing unfairly. 

He can’t see his father’s face behind the bronze helmet but he knows confusion is etched upon his face. 

Eris was smarter, he took the antidote against faebane before entering into this duel, already knowing his father’s foul tricks.

Beron lands the second strike as well. But then it is Eris' turn. He lands the third, the fourth and the fifth and when lifts his lance a sixth time, Beron slides off his horse, slumping to the ground. 

Eris dismounts his own horse, stalking towards where his father is lying on the ground, not lifeless but something close to this state. Eris stares down at him and slowly Beron’s eyes open in disgust.

“I take this as you give in?” Eris points the tip of his sword that he has pulled out from the leather strap around his waist at his father. He can’t take a risk now.

“You should be dead by now.” His lips part in a snarl.

“Well, as you can see, I am not.” Eris knows that the crowd gathered around them is holding its breath. This is a monumental event — a duel that decides over the future of this court and who the next High Lord will be.

The answer is simple: Eris. He won the duel. Beron lost.

“But…” Blood starts to spill from Beron’s mouth when he begins to shake his head. “The—”

“The faeban?” Eris raises a brow. “I knew you wouldn’t play fair, father. I took the antidote just in case.” Now Eris is the one grinning. He quickly tips his head at two warriors, signaling them to pick up his father. They follow his order, probably having already noticed the shift in power.

“I won’t do you the honour of making this quick. You deserve to rot in the dungeons for all you've done to me, to mother and my brothers.” Eris sheaths his sword with a loud rasps. Then he steps into his father, now held up by two warriors, and presses his forehead against his father’s. “And now, as your High Lord, I demand you tell me where my mate is!”

—————

“Darling!” Carefully, Eris lifts you into his arms and cradles you tightly. Your body immediately reacts to him, and you feel yourself relaxing. All is good now, and you are safe.

Your mate is here, and all is good although you notice a shift in power.

Eris‘ heart is hammering so rapidly, you can feel it through his body. He is out of breath, and crying and holds onto you as if his own life depends on it.

This is the moment where you realise that your life means more to him than his own and a sob parts your lips, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“You found me,” you cry, and brush your palm up his chest, resting it on his shoulder. “You came to find me.”

“You are my mate, my love, I would always find you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I would cross the seven seas for you, climb every mountain and fight every imaginable beast. You are my mate I would conquer Hel itself for you.”

His lips brush yours in a light kiss, and tears start to spill from your eyes. You blink rapidly, when you notice light at the end of the endless and dark corridor and there is also—

Cheering and barking, loud chatter and laughter fill the air around you when you step outside the place you have been trapped in.

You don’t understand, but Eris is quick to offer an explanation that would pull the rug from under your feet if you were standing. It leaves you speechless, your mouth wide open in surprise, but it is pride and utter love that outrules all the other emotions.

“I am the new High Lord of this court, and from now on a better time will begin. I will rule with understanding and respect for my loyal subjects, alongside my High Lady and wife.” 

He kisses your brow and then grins at the cheering mass of people gathered, their joy tangible in the air. And so is Eris — his heart, your hand resting atop his chest, beating steadily and happily within his chest.

His High Lady!

——————

The first thing after his first official announcement as High Lord is that Eris summons six healers to check on you. You are trying to tell him that one is enough, but Eris doesn’t want to hear any of it.

He stays while they check on you and the baby, always observing them with an eagle’s gaze until the relief comes and you are told that both you and the babe are fine and no damage has been done to either of you.

“It’s all going to be good now,” Etis mumbles, leaning his head against yours that is resting on his shoulder.

“High Lord and Lady.” You beam, and turn your head making Eris lift his own. You lock eyes with him and then kiss him. “I love you, my High Lord.“

“I love you more, my High Lady.”

tags: @sunshinebingo @tarataraaaa  @brekkershadowsinger @azriels-mate123 @mandziaaa  @cosmic-whispers @mali22 @elsie-bells @imma-too-many-fandoms @kuraikei @ginnyweasley06  @bubnix  @powerfulpantera @secret-third-thing

[jeanboyjean]

BIRTHDAY GIFT - ft jean kirstein. nsfw.

a/n: it's still the 7th somewhere right?? guys i grinded so hard to get this done but i did it!!! i hope this means my writing block is over D: idk why i made this angsty to start with but i promise it gets cute at the end. i picture this being kind of earlier on in the relo when ur still figuring each other out. HAPPY BDAY TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!

cw: mdni. fem/afab reader. established relationship (break up), getting back together sex, piv, sappy? missionary, creampie, idiots in love. pet name: baby. jean is so boyfriend i want to cry.

wc: 3.5k

Your bedroom was a mess. 

You heaved a big sigh to yourself as you stood in your doorway and took a look around. Various articles of clothing were scattered everywhere… a shirt slung over the back of a chair, jackets stacked on top of each other on the foot of your bed, worn socks littered around on the floor. A basket of clean laundry you hadn’t bothered to fold and put away sat on the carpet and next to it was a pile of dirty clothes that was waiting to be washed. It was a true reflection of the state of your mind over the past few weeks after your break up with Jean. There was no good way to spin it - you were a complete and utter mess. 

The end of your relationship was the last thing you had expected when you had gone over to his place that day, but one thing had led to another and you had both said things you couldn’t take back. Now here you were... alone and missing him and miserable. You didn't know how long was acceptable to be crying over someone - after all, Jean was your first and only boyfriend. What you did know though was that the pain of losing him was far too fresh in your heart and you were nowhere close to being over him in the slightest.

It hurt even more because you knew he was doing so much better than you. One look at his instagram revealed more than you wanted to know. It seemed he was perfectly happy hanging out with his friends and now that he had deleted all of his photos of you, his comments were filled with girls who had been hiding in the bushes, waiting for the right moment to pounce. Meanwhile, you hadn’t taken down a single post because you couldn’t bear the thought of losing all of the memories you had together. To be honest, you couldn’t blame them - he was a catch after all. Too bad you had let him slip out of your fingertips.

With all the energy you could muster, you dragged yourself to your wardrobe and hauled open the doors. You needed to snap out of this. If he could move on, then why couldn’t you? You were better than this, damn it! Your vision flashed red as you angrily tipped out the clean laundry onto your bed and began folding it. You were going to do whatever it took to get over him and live your best life. That would show him! 

A petty fire fueled you as you imagined every scenario where you could rub it in his face that you were doing perfectly fine without him, but it was snuffed out in an instant when you reached into your closet to hang a shirt and your fingers brushed against a familiar soft fabric. Your hand stilled and your heart seized as you looked at the hoodie tucked away in the corner. You had shoved it away the night of your break up when you realised you had gone home wearing it and hadn’t had the heart to do anything about it since. Tears burned behind your eyes and your vision began to blur as you pulled it out and clutched it to your chest. No matter what you told yourself, you still loved him and the thought of moving on just made you want him back even more. You buried your face into the jersey and sobbed as you breathed in the faint scent of his cologne and clung onto the memory of him. 

If only you knew that Jean was doing a lot worse than you thought. 

It may have seemed like he was having the time of his life, but truthfully he was one bad moment away from honest to god ending it all. If it hadn’t been for Connie, he would have done what he really wanted to do and stayed in bed all day to wallow in his misery. Unfortunately, his friend would not let him rest and insisted on dragging him out whenever he could. 

Jean supposed he should be grateful that he had someone who was looking out for him and making sure he wasn’t drinking himself to death on his own. In fact, Connie had been the one to tell Jean to archive all of his photos with you and block your number after a close call one night when he’d had a little too much to drink and you had been ever present in his mind. It was just one more reminder that you were no longer his and it wrecked him, but he had followed through and he was trying to move on because isn’t that what you wanted? 

Over the weeks, he had replayed your last conversation over and over, trying to find the moment when everything had gone awry but there was no way to reason it. Every day without you was a day he wished he didn’t have to live. How could he move on when you were everything to him? All he wanted to do was to call you and see how you were doing, but he couldn’t do that to you. You hated him, you had said as much and you wanted nothing more to do with him. He was probably the last person you wanted to see. 

His phone dinged on the coffee table in front of him as he slumped into the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen in front of him. He picked it up and took a quick glance at the screen before tossing it to the side. Yet another notification, a message from someone but not the person he was hoping to hear from. It was pathetic the way he was still holding out hope, but he had thought that maybe, you would have reached out today. It was his birthday after all… but it was radio silence just as it had been for almost a month.

A knock on his door made his ears perk up. He frowned as he got up from the couch, smoothing down his shirt and ruffling a hand to fix his hair. He wasn’t expecting any visitors today, especially since he had specifically requested a quiet day for his birthday. Trust Connie though, he was probably here to pester him into going out and doing something “fun!” and “distracting!”. 

“I told you, man. I don’t want to do anything today,” Jean grumbled as he swung open his door with a roll of his eyes. “I just want to stay inside and -” 

His voice trailed off into a choked silence when his eyes met yours. You stood frozen in front of him, your eyes wide and your arms wrapped tight around yourself protectively. Jean’s mouth hung open in shock as he stared at you, unsure if you were real or just an apparition from his dreams. His eyes darted up and down at your form, blinking quickly a few times to clear his vision. As the realisation that you were actually in front of him sank in, he took in your appearance. Your shoulders were hunched up towards your ears, your hair a little messy and your eyelids puffy and tinged just a little red. Truthfully, you had looked better. And yet, his chest constricted and his heart clenched, because you were still the best thing he had ever seen. 

Your arms tightened as you shifted uncomfortably on your feet. His eyes snapped to the material you were gripping close to your front. That was... his hoodie. Time seemed to slow down as his vision tunnelled to just you in front of him, standing at his door, holding his clothes. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was rough and low with emotion and he cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. 

You tried to look anywhere but at his face and instead watched his throat bob as your heart hammered in your chest. This was a mistake. Seeing him was too much, you should have known you weren’t ready. Just the sight of him was enough to make you weak and you willed the tears to stay at bay as you stared a hole into the door behind him. Your hands shook as you thrust your arms out, shoving his hoodie into his chest. 

“I came to give you this.” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a hurry and you clamped your lips shut as a lump lodged itself in your throat.

His hands reached up slowly to take the item and his fingers brushed against yours ever so slightly. The contact was enough to make you want to flinch but you tried not to let it show as you let go and dropped your arms to your side. Of course, Jean noticed but he chose not to say anything. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed at you, his knuckles turning white as his hands balled into the fabric. The silence was louder than ever as the two of you stood at his door, neither of you sure of where to go from there. 

You rocked back on your heels and cleared your throat. Your now empty arms hugged around yourself, resisting the urge to itch at your skin that was crawling from the overwhelming emotions of seeing Jean. Heat flooded your cheeks when you chanced a glance at his face and your eyes locked together, his expression unreadable and gaze heavy with unsaid words. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” you said thickly as the tears threatened to fall again. 

You whirled around to leave but only managed a step away before you were stopped by Jean’s hand. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged tight, pulling you back toward him. The air in your lungs left you in a shocked gasp and your surroundings blurred as you spun around to face him. In one quick motion, his hands fell to your waist before you could lose your balance and yours planted on his chest as you caught your breath. His eyes bore into yours, swimming with emotion and now that you were really looking at him, you could see the red rims and the dark shadows that surrounded them. It had obviously been a while since he had last shaved, judging by the scruffy facial hair he had grown since you last saw him. It made you wonder if maybe he wasn’t doing as well as you had thought.

Or maybe he’d just had a few too many late nights out. 

The thought jerked you back into reality and you shook your head as you pushed against his chest. It was to no avail - you might as well have been trying to push away a cement wall. His hands held you firm in front of him, his fingers digging hard into your skin. 

“Why are you leaving?” 

You blinked hard. How could he ask that when he was the reason why you had to leave in the first place?

“Stay.” His arms snaked around your back and tightened until you were forced to take a step forward. “Don’t go.”

You shook your head again. His shirt crumpled in your hands as you clenched them into tight fists. You attempted to push against him again but your strength was starting to fail you. 

“Why should I stay?” You snapped, but there was none of the malice you hoped for. 

It was a loaded question and your shaking words sliced through like an arrow to strike into in his heart. His mind raced as he scrambled to find the right answer. Because he needed you. Because he couldn’t live without you. Because losing you would be the biggest mistake he ever made. Because, because, because… 

“I miss you,” was all he could manage. As soon as he uttered the words, he knew they were the wrong thing to say, confirmed by your humourless laugh in response, but it was the truth and he could barely find the words to string a sentence together at this moment. 

“Yeah, sure,” you snorted. “Let me go, Jean. You’re the one that wanted us to break up in the first place.” 

The world tilted on its axis around him and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. Was that true? 

“Please… I’m sorry. I miss you and I never meant for it to get like this.” He blinked hard as his vision began to blur. The desperation was clear in his tone. “I’m so sorry. Please, take me back.” 

You watched as the tears fell from his eyes and slipped down his cheeks. As if moving by instinct, you released his shirt and cupped his face, wiping his damp skin with your thumbs. His eyelids fluttered shut as he inhaled deeply and he dipped his head to press his forehead against yours. The ice in your heart thawed with each tear that he shed - curse him and his stupid face. You would always be weak when it came to him. 

He pulled you in even closer with his arms until your body was pressed flush against his and the heat between you was enough for the dam to break and you were moving without even thinking about it. You tugged his face down and his lips crashed into yours which parted instinctively and then he was kissing you as if it was the last thing he would do on earth.

His hands slid up your back until he was cradling your head at the nape of your neck. His tongue slipped between your lips, finally savouring your taste after the weeks apart. He kissed you fervently, each press of his lips against yours an apology and a promise that he intended to keep. In the back of your mind, you registered the click of the door shutting behind you as he led you into his home and guided you towards his room. 

The back of your legs hit the edge of his bed and you parted for a moment as you fell back onto the mattress. Jean gazed down at you with the kind of heavy lidded look someone might call hungry, predatory even. His eyes burned into yours and you glanced away quickly with a gulp. As much as you wanted this, the time apart and the tension was making you more nervous than you had ever been in his presence. What if it wasn’t as good as it had been in the past? What if you weren’t good enough anymore?

“Jean…” 

His name slipped from your lips, a little breathless and unsure, but all uncertainty died out in an instant when he reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt off with a flourish, revealing his toned torso. Desire coursed through your body, heat flooding from your core to rise to your cheeks and pool between your legs. He wasted no time in climbing onto the bed and guiding you back until you were laying on your back with him pressed on top of you. His weight kept you pinned down as his lips met yours again. This time, he let his hands roam over you, sliding under your shirt to palm at your skin. You gasped into his mouth as he cupped your breast with one hand and pinched a nipple with his fingers. 

“Take off your shirt,” he mumbled hazily. He peppered soft kisses along your jaw before pulling away. “I need to see you. Please.” 

You hastily removed your shirt with his guidance and since it was clear where this was heading, you slipped your pants and underwear down and kicked them off the bed. Jean’s eyes flashed his delight and he groaned as he took in the sight of you finally naked underneath him. His hands trailed down your body, skimming over your soft dips and curves, tracing your skin as if wanting to commit it all to memory.�� 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I almost lost you. So fucking stupid.”

You reached up to his face and yanked him down in another kiss. Heat blazed within you and you ached to feel him in every way you had before. You could reminisce another time, right now you needed him, all of him.

“You’re stupid,” you replied as you caught your breath. “But that’s why I love you.” 

His movements stilled at your words. His eyes shone as his lips stretched in a full grin. “I love you too… so much. I love you so much it hurts.” 

You giggled softly. “Show me then,” you urged and he smirked in response. 

“Needy much?”

He savoured every moment as he kissed down your neck, sucking into the soft flesh. A hand slid along your thigh to cup your aching pussy and the feeling of your heat had his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He sucked in a breath as he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling the wetness gather. 

“You’re so wet, baby. Did you miss me that much?” He chuckled lowly, eyes dark with lust as he watched his fingers slide against your entrance. 

You whined in response, desperate to feel more of him. “Fuck you, Jean. Bet you missed me more.” 

He snorted and plunged two fingers inside you instead of replying. Your back arched and you moaned in delight at the sudden intrusion. The heat in your core began building even more as he fucked you with his fingers, just the way he knew you liked. 

“Oh, I missed this so much. I love you, I love you.” The words spilled out of him as you moaned in pleasure. “Are you ready for me baby? I want to fuck you so bad.” 

You nodded eagerly, fingernails digging into his bed sheets as you spread your legs further in anticipation. Never had you been more ready than now and your mouth watered as you watched him shuck off his pants and free his heavy cock. He leaned his weight on one hand while he used the other to line himself up and enter you slowly. Despite the urgency you were both feeling, neither of you wanted to rush this. You relished in the feeling of him filling you up inch by inch, stretching you open, moulding your insides to fit perfectly around him and his breathing quickened and his hips stuttered as he bottomed out. 

“Oh god, you feel just as good as I remembered,” he groaned as he began to thrust his hips. His pace began to build and you wrapped your legs around his waist while he lifted your hips up to deepen the angle. His cock slid in and out steadily, the tip hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves inside your walls with every stroke. “Actually no, this is so much better than I remember,” he corrected himself. “So much better. So good, so good.” He was rambling now, the pleasure of being inside you the exact drug he needed to loosen his tongue. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I love you so much. I’m never going to let you go.” 

You struggled to find the words to form a coherent sentence, your mind too clouded with lust. Instead, you chanted his name as his hips snapped into you relentlessly. You were tumbling toward your release and the building pleasure was almost too much to bear. He reached a hand between you and your walls clenched in response, sucking him in even more as he rubbed at your clit.  

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight, baby. I’m not gonna last much longer. Are you close? You gonna cum with me?” 

You cried out as he drove into you harder. A fever burned within you; only Jean could make you feel this way.  “I’m gonna cum!” 

He dipped his head down to press his lips onto your forehead as he neared his own orgasm. “Okay fuck. Come on then. Cum with me, baby.”

Your vision went white and your mind blanked out as your body flooded with pleasure. Your fingernails dug into his back as you hurtled over the edge and you pulsed around him, milking him for all he could give you. He hissed out curses in response as he thrust into you hard and his hips jerked as he came too. He spilled inside you and his cock twitched as he fucked his cum into you deeper, not wanting to waste a single drop, before he pulled out slowly. The primal urge to claim you as his was too much to ignore.

Jean tumbled onto the bed next to you, his legs still laying over yours as the two of you panted heavily. His arm snaked around your waist and tugged you into his embrace, ignoring how your sweaty limbs stuck to each other. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and breathed in your familiar scent. This was the home he was missing. You smiled as you brought a hand to his face and carded your fingers through his hair to sweep it away from his forehead. 

“Happy birthday, Jean,” you said softly. 

He blinked up at you sleepily. His cheeks were rosy with exertion and his eyes sparkled with joy. “You remembered?” 

“Of course I did. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

He let out a laugh at that, the joyous sound bounced off the walls of his bedroom, the first time he had laughed so wholeheartedly in a while. It felt as if the weight of the whole world had been lifted off his shoulders. 

“Are you kidding? You’re the best gift I could ask for.” 

He turned your cheek and began peppering kisses on your face. You joined him in his laughter and giggles bubbled out of you as he made sure to bless every part of your skin with his lips. The press of his hardening cock on your side made you narrow your eyes at him playfully and you reached down to wrap your fingers around it, swiping your thumb at the cum that had leaked from his tip and spreading it down his length.

“Again already?” You teased. 

The hungry look was back on his face in the dark glint to his eyes and the way he licked his lips as he grinded into your hand. He pressed himself up onto his forearms and moved back to cage you underneath his weight. His hair hung around his face as he hovered over you and something told you to strap in for a long night. 

“What can I say... I missed you and I want to make up for lost time.” 

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

MIRROR

a/n: I had no idea if posting this was a good idea or not, but it's better to let it out than to leave it forgotten in the drafts. I hope you like it… I’ll leave this here, and I’ll retreat slowly…

jude bellingham x exgf!reader (trent alexander-arnold´s sister)

warnings: +18 content, p in v, protected sex, dom!Jude, dirty talk… kinda angsty, english is not my first language.

summary: Stuck at your brother's party, you struggle to get over Jude, your ex, who brings back old feelings every time you look at him. Despite your attempts to flirt with other guys, Trent and Jude always end up shooing them away, and your anger only grows. When Jude's gaze meets yours, the tension becomes electric. Before you know it, you both find yourself in the bathroom, where your chemistry ignites in a heated encounter that ignores all the rules you once swore you wouldn't break.

The music thumped through the walls of Trent’s house, vibrating through your chest as you hovered at the edge of the crowded living room. You hated these kinds of parties—too many people, too much noise—but it was Trent’s place, and everyone had shown up. Jude had shown up.

Of course he had.

It was one of your brother’s bests mates. He was laughing with a group of people just across the room, so close, yet worlds away.

You hated that seeing him still twisted your heart, hated that he looked so good, so unbothered, like you hadn’t been wrecked when he walked away from you months ago. He had told you that the distance was going to hurt you, but the one who ended up hurting you was him. You two hadn’t spoken since. Not properly, anyway. But you’d been here before—sharing space, always with Trent in between, always keeping it civil for the sake of everyone.

You tipped your glass back, willing the alcohol to dull the sharp edge of your emotions. Your eyes drifted toward the guy you’d been talking to earlier. Nothing serious. Just a distraction. He was cute, and more importantly, available. A brief smile played on your lips, and you moved to join him in the living room, leaving the bitter knot of emotion behind. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the game of flirtation, the feeling of reclaiming control.

But you felt it before you saw him. Jude, his presence like a gravitational pull. As soon as the guy got too close, a hand on your arm, you saw him. Jude, out of the corner of your eye—his jaw tight, gaze burning.

"Oi, mate," Jude said, his voice low but firm as he stepped in, placing himself between you and the guy you wanted to shag, blocking him with a casual but unmistakable tension in his posture. "I think you're done here."

Your heart skipped a beat, anger flaring hot. Before you could protest, Trent appeared, a protective shadow beside Jude. Not again, please. Of course, Trent. Always watching, always hovering. You loved him a lot, but right now, you hated his guts. Hated that they were both treating you like something fragile, like you couldn’t make your own choices.

The worst thing was, it was the third time that night.

The guy glanced at Trent, then Jude, clearly uncomfortable. He wasn´t even looking at you anymore. "I didn’t mean any harm, man—"

"Yeah, you did. That´s my little sister" Trent cut in, his voice cold. "You're leaving now."

With one last quick glance at you, the guy mumbled something; probably an apology, and slinked off into the crowd. You stood there, furious, fists clenched at your sides. "What the hell, Jude? Trent?"

Jude’s eyes met yours, the weight of everything unsaid passing between you both. "Y/N, come on, don´t do this," he said quietly, almost too soft to hear over the loud music.

"Do what?" you snapped, taking a step closer. Your chest was tight, your words sharp. "Move on? Because I can’t just stand around waiting for you to stop playing games. You left me, Jude. Remember?"

His gaze dropped, pain flickering behind his eyes, and probably embarrasment due to your brother being there, jjjbut before he could say anything, Trent stepped in. “He’s right, you don’t need a guy,” he said, his voice more gentle than you expected. “You don´t know anything about him. I don't even know where he came from.”

You let out a frustrated breath, your mind reeling from the double wall of protection. You didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Jude stood there, silent, but you saw the tension in his shoulders, the conflict in his expression.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, pushing through the crowd, your skin burning with anger and unspoken feelings. The party roared on, oblivious to the storm that had just passed. Trent and Jude watched you go, and you didn’t have to look back to know they wouldn’t follow.

The rest of the party goes by relatively smoothly. Jude can feel you glaring at him the whole time, practically boring holes into his forehead with your flaming eyes. He winces when the song finishes and he watches you slide through the crowd, storming from the living room.

He shouldn't go to you. He knows he shouldn't. But he does anyway, standing up, avoiding Trent’s attention and hurrying after you. You see him coming so you pick up your pace, thumping up the stairs.

Jude follows faster, only a few steps behind you. You hesitate on the first landing, unsure which room will keep you safest from him.

Then you see the bathroom down the hall and make a break for it, rushing to get to safety with Jude hot on your heels driving you faster and faster.

You slip into the bathroom and go to slam the door shut, but a familiar hand grabs the wood and stops it. You let out an indignant squawk as he barges into the bathroom and shuts the door.

"Get out, Bellingham."

"No," He says firmly, staring down at you irritably. He can't help it, he has to explain himself.

"You know I'm right. That dude was not-

"Fuck off," you interrupt him, your voice raw with anger. "I was so calm talking to him until you both came over like a pair of lunatics."

Jude snaps, replying angrily, "Yes, because throwing yourself desperately at him is calmly talking. He was the third man in the night… "

"And yet, this was the third time that the two of you had no right to interfere. Especially you."

You’re so flippant, so nonchalant about the fact that you could've just been used or hurt by a random guy. Broken. Maybe, without your brother and his constant attention on you during the night, you could’ve committed a mistake. But none of that mattered now, your anger was bigger than your rational thoughts.

Jude clenches his fists, only growing angrier when you say flatly:

"Ben and I should be in my room right now. What a bunch of cockblockers...”

Was it really his name Ben? You couldn’t remember properly.

"I bet Trent would love to hear that from her little sister. Sometimes you forget that not everybody has good intentions.”

His heart sinks when he recognizes a ruthless glint in your eye, your lips quirking when you replie, "He seemed pretty nice. It was the third guy in this party that left scared. Shouldn’t you just give me a list of the ones that you and Trent consider appropriate for me?”

None. He wants to say.

Jude sees red, his hands flying to his hair and tugging in frustration. He turns his back on you, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I can’t stand to see it. You know that. You do it in front of my eyes.”

"You have no right to be hovering around me scaring the guys that approach me, Jude.”

That's it. What you’ve been waiting all night to happen. At a moment you thought that you weren’t going to see it, but finally, Jude explodes, whirling around and smacking his hand down on the porcelain sink.

This makes you yelp as he yells, "Yes I do! I do have a right. Because I miss you, dammit!"

You stared at him, your lips parted in obvious shock. Your lips. Jude feels his gaze drawn to them like a magnet.

And then you’re both moving, crashing together before either can stop it.

Jude let's out a groan at the contact, his hands grabbing at your hips. Finally. Your breathing hitches when he bites down on your lower lip harshly. He's still mad, still fucking furious with you. You can tell from the way he's kissing you, hot and so needy it makes your knees shake.

You moan when his tongue eagerly slips into your mouth, rediscovering and reclaiming. There's no fighting for dominance—Jude has it already. You surrender to his control, opening up for it greedily. You want this, you need this.

Your hands fly to his shirt tugging and pulling at it until he finally gets the message and pulls away long enough to shrug the shirt off over his head. You grow dizzy at the sight of his muscular torso, your tongue flicking out to wet your swollen lips. It was obvious he'd been training extra hard. What wasn't obvious was the hours Jude spent working out to avoid thinking of you.

He growls low in the back of his throat at the sight of your pupils blown wide. He pulls you back to him, returning his wanting lips to yours. Your hands shake as they slide up over his shoulder blades and the back of his neck.

Jude smirks at the action, giving him plenty of time to slide his lips over his jaw and down to the hollow of your throat. He groans at the feel of you, the taste of your skin. You smell like lavender and the alcohol you´d been drinking. He wants to drown in it. Drown in you.

You gasp when his teeth tug at your skin. He bites and sucks and licks until there is a growing red mark on the side of your throat. Trent is going to kill you both. Your head lolls to the opposite side, weak to his sinful ministrations. Eager for more. Jude licks a stripe from your jaw to the skin under your ear. He pauses when something bumps his nose.

Earrings. The earrings. You still wore them. You still wore the ones that he gifted you.

His heart nearly explodes because maybe this meant it wasn't over, maybe he could undo the things that had been done. His hands fly back into action, untucking your blue t from your jeans and pulling back enough to tug it up over your head.

He lets out a curse when he realizes this whole time you hadn't been wearing a bra. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, waiting before doing anything. Maybe this is a mistake.

You must notice his hesitation, because your cool palms suddenly cup his face and bring his lips back to yours. It's your turn to bite his lip, your teeth playfully nipping at the soft swollen curve of his lower one. The kiss is still angry, hot, and so delicious it makes your toes curl.

No, this was definitely not a mistake.

Jude shakes his head when you try to drop to your knees. He knows what you think he wants. But you’re wrong.

"Turn around," He mumbles huskily, his erection painful in his jeans. He had to have you, he needed to have you.

"No," you scoff, trying to return your lips to his.

"I said turn around," he growls, not missing the way your thighs clench together and your eyes flash. You narrow your eyes but do as you’re told, yelping when Jude pins you front to the sink. Your eyes find yourself in the mirror and you’re taken aback by how needy you look, wanton and hungry. For him. You was always hungry for him.

Jude’s thoughts are disrupted when your ass arches into his cock, making him curse under his breath.

"Fuck, Y/N.”

You smile wickedly at him in the mirror, Jude growing cross at the action. He was in control. He needed to because you’d been slipping through his fingers like sand ever since he went to play to Madrid.

You see the change in him, his eyes darkening sinfully. You gasp and grip the sink tightly when he thrusts against you, your legs shaking from the spark of pleasure.

You were embarrassed, your cheeks turning red when you watch in the mirror as a moan flew from your lips. You try to turn around, but his hands keep you pinned there.

You moan again when you feel his fingers at your front, deftly unbuttoning your pants before slipping his hand inside.

Jude leans his forehead against your back, momentarily breathless from the feeling of your fingers dipping into your slick heat.

"Ju- Jude," you whisper, your eyes fluttering shut as he slowly thrusts one finger in and out of you. It's not enough, not when you knows his cock is just out of reach and can fill you the way you want—need to be.

His hand moves from you core, leaving you feeling empty and on fire with need.

Jude mutters huskily, "Open your eyes. I want you to watch. I want you to see what only I can do to you."

Goosebumps erupt across your skin at his words, your mouth running dry when your pants and panties join the pile of clothes on the floor. Your eyes flicker open, because while you want to tell him to piss off, that he isn't in charge of you any more….you want to see it too.

“You still on the-?” He asks, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“Yes,” you interrupt him immediately.

His belt buckle clinks when he tosses it to the floor. You watch with wide open eyes as he shoves his jeans down just enough to pull his pulsing member out. You run your tongue along your lower lip, your eyes stuck on the spot of the mirror where you can see Jude languidly stroking himself. You want to do it. You go to turn, desperate to hold him in her hand, but Jude reaches up and firmly holds you in place, saying rudely, "Don't."

Your head falls foreword with a gasp when you feel the tip of him teasing your entrance, just barely sliding in before retreating. It was torture. You try desperately to arch back into him, groaning when Jude tuts and stills your hips with his hand.

"Look," He says firmly. You raise your head and stare at Jude in the mirror, your lustfilled gazes locked onto each other as he slowly thrusts into you. Jude swears at the feeling of being inside of you again, moans loudly when you clench around him.

His hand comes around to cup your throat, keeping your head exactly in front of the mirror as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back in. Your knuckles turn white from your grip on the sink, unable to stop the uninhibited moan that tears from your throat. He was filling you so deliciously, so completely in this position. He's slow, but hard and rough in his movements. You cry out when he brushes against that explosive spot within you that has your back arching and your hands scrambling for something better to hold onto.

The contrast of his warm body against your back and the cold sink pressing into you front leaves you breathless.

"Please, Jude," you moan, your head slumping back to rest on his shoulder with your eyes closed. He connects your lips for a harsh, soul shattering kiss. He moans into your open mouth when you circle your hips back on his, trying to get more. The hand that was caressing your throat covers your own that you have pressed against the mirror, his fingers interlocking with yours as he complies with your wishes. He knows what you need.

He thrusts into you faster, harder, the hand not holding yours coming down to grab your hip. You can't make sense of the sounds coming from your own mouth because it's just so good. It's so good with Jude. Because it's the only time you willingly give someone control over your heart, your body.

That familiar warm sensation coils in your lower belly, growing bigger and more warm with each thrust.

"Jude, I-I..." You trail off with a groan, your hips bucking back into his wildly as you approach the peak of arousal, Jude growling huskily in your ear.

"Look, Y/N. Look in the mirror."

It takes all of your strength to open your eyes and lean your head forward, your gaze first finding where your and his hand are locked together, pressed up against the mirror.

Then you find yourself, again shocked by the arousal in your eyes and the poutyness of your swollen lips. You glance up at Jude in the reflection, nearly moaning at how sinful he looks. He commands the energy in the room, his jaw clenched tight as he too fights back his climax. You watch you both now, desperate for this to not end. It was too good.

When his fingers glide across your stomach and dip down to circle your clit your vision goes white, your mouth falling open as a voiceless cry tries to leave you. Jude swears, watching in the mirror as your eyes roll back and your throat bobs and you climax around him, your clenching walls finishing him off and making him groan loudly against your shoulder.

He slumps against you, his arm holding you up as your legs shake against his. He presses a few sloppy kisses to the skin of your back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to regain his breath.

That is when you realize, what have you done. How you have fallen again in this loop. Or how you’d let yourself be touched by the man that left you not so long ago shattered.

"Y/N," He whispers hoarsely, taking in your pink cheeks and cloudy gaze. Lust turns to fear as you quickly separate your hands and bodies, scrambling to pull on your clothes.

Jude feels fear tighten in his chest too, because you’re pulling away faster than he can reel you in.

"Y/N, wait-

The bathroom door slams shut as you flee, barely dressed before disappearing. Your entire body is hot as you can still feel his touch and shame washes over you. You run to one of the bedrooms, hoping Trent doesn’t find you. But most of all, hoping Jude will get out of your mind once and for all.

[tan1shere]

Hi I was wondering if you could please write a billie fic where she comforts the reader? it could literally be anything at all i just like the hurt/comfort or angsty that ends off fluffy kinda stuff if that makes sense!! 💙

You're My Comfort

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: coming rightttt up !! Enjoy, babe <3 (this is a lil short I'm sawry ☹) -alsooo dunno If you just put that heart or want to be on my emoji anons, just lmk if so !

Summary: you had been struggling lately, and like always you bottled it up, til you were at your breaking point. But rest assured billie was there to pick you back up again.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, anxiety attack and slight depression, bit sad but fluffynezzz near da end 😇

Masterlist

You loved weather like this, it made you feel comfortable and secure in your own weird little way. You've always loved the rain. The foggy atmosphere. As crazy as it sounds it brought you joy. So when Billie found you out, laying in your guys backyard. Letting the rain drench your body. She knew you were at your happiest. Or were you?

No. The answer was no. You had been a tad more distant with her recently and it did worry her, you were always so bubbly but she was very aware of the depressive states you'd occasionally get into. It worried her more so, the fact she never knew when. You'd keep it to yourself because you never wanted to feel like a nuisance. Like you were troubling her. But little did you know she'd help massively. She came out, seeing your body laying down, back against the grass. It was pouring down, you were truly soaked and maybe even a little cold. You felt cold regardless. Icy.

She got on the ground with you. "Talk to me." She said calmly. Looking to her side at your face. You had silent tears which she thankfully couldn't see. You didn't respond at first. "Please." She pleaded, grabbing your hand and placing it in hers. You could be in mud and she'd still join you. You didn't know why you weren't worth the trouble. Your head turns to face her, blank. No emotion. "Isnt the rain pretty." You averted your attention back on the dull sky. Making her sigh. "Baby, Somethings really bothering you. Are you getting into a depressive state again?" Again, no answer. But if she kept going you might just break.

"Are you feeling gross-?" - "Yes billie. I'm feeling disgusting. I feel stupid and i don't even know why, maybe it was that dumb interaction I had with that lady the other day. Maybe I'm freaking out like crazy because I can't seem to get this little tiny demon. Out. Of. My. Head."

She stared at you in shock as you were shaking, you hadn't even noticed. But now tears were streaming out. Billie immediately wraps you in her embrace, saying nothing. Letting you cry in the safety net of her arms. Your eyes soon shut letting out all that pent up emotion, that you tried so desperately to get rid of. Turns out you needed what Bill was doing. You needed that kind of warmth. Being in your true happy place. Her hand strokes your hair sweetly, her chin resting atop your head. Wishing she could take all your pain away.

You sob into her chest, shaking uncontrollably. But not because you were cold. Your heart rate picked up, feeling every little thing come crashing down. She rocks you in her arms, giving quiet shh's repeating "You're ok. Its fine." Until your breathing eventually calms down, getting over that pesky anxiety attack. "There you go." She speaks, moving your wet hair out of your face.

"I'm worthless Bil." Her brows furrow. "Where on earth is that coming from love?" You shrug. "My brain, it keeps repeating it. Over and over." She looks in your eyes. "Well say that it's not true and tell it to go find some other mind to bug. You're not worthless baby, you're amazing. And strong might I add. Dealing with this almost every day. I'm proud of you." Your eyes gleam as she says those 4 words, having a small smile on your face after what felt like weeks. It warms her heart tremendously. Missing that smile heaps. Her arms wrap you in such a warm hug briefly.

"I get you angel girl. Always have, yeah?" She explains, pulling back to cup your face. "But you need to let me in. Please." You want to now. Even if you and billie haven't been dating for long, you knew you were in love with her. And that kept growing and growing each day. "Let me help you I'm here, and I always will be." You nod at her, a thumb swiping under your eye shortly after. The rain continues to cascade over you both. "Billie?" She hums in response. Admiring your features. "I think i love you."

A long pause emerges making you panic. "Well I mean- not think that sounds a bit mean and i-" Her lips meet yours in a soft kiss. Shutting up that silly rambling. "You're adorable." She laughs a little. "I love you." Your eyes light up as she says that. "You're truly my comfort Billie, thank you for that." She smiles big time, bringing you back into her arms. "Head up baby girl, I ain't leaving."

"Promise?"

Her smile grows.

"Going to put a ring on that finger. I promise."

:,)

[wonhaz]

break my heart again - y.jw

pairing : jungwon x fem!reader genre : classmates au, hanahaki au, angst, unrequited love, inspired by laufey's song - let you break my heart again wc : 2.2k warnings : child neglect, sickness, hospitals, blood, major character death, eating synopsis : yang jungwon breaks your heart, but you love him, and you'd let him do it again, and again. because you would rather die than live your life not loving him, and you do just that. a/n : i don't know why all my fic ideas from my bias (jungwon) are all so angsty but here you go ig! i put a lot of effort into the meaning of each flower and their symbolisms in the story so u can even google it if you want the full experience or full meanings. this laufey song makes me want to cry my eyes out but i hope u like the fic!

"one day i will stop falling in love with you."

you loved yang jungwon, but he didn't love you back.

he was the only thing you could think of, but you know well that he doesn't care about you. all of your friends told you to move on, to forget about him. you've tried, you really have, but nothing seems to work.

jungwon was everything any girl could ever want, top of the class, kind, funny, and not to mention, extremely cute. you're pretty sure every girl in school had feelings for him at one point, you were no different. you thought it would just be a happy crush, how did it get this bad?

how did you meet him? simple, he was your classmate, that's it. just your classmate. he knew if your existence, but only because of his role as class president, aside from that he had no reason to interact with you. he never saw how you looked at him with your lovesick gaze as he took down notes, he never saw you in the bleachers watching every single one of his competitions, he never saw you clutching your chest in pain, no matter what you did, he never saw you at all.

but you let him do it. again, and again, and again. as long as you were alive, you would let him break your heart again. all because you love yang jungwon.

your parents were busy, always out on business trips, leaving you all alone at home with no one to talk to. all you did at home was day dream and come up with fake scenarios and alternate universes where you and jungwon were a couple. did that help your current situation? hell no. it made it worse.

you sit at the dining table. alone. your plate with pie and your cup of coffee untouched, you were hungry, but had no appetite to eat. suddenly your favorite foods looked disgusting. you've read about this happening.

it's getting worse.

walking to school, you feel a pang of pain in your chest. quickly running to a hidden alley, you clutch your chest in pain. you feel as if you're about to throw up, trying to cough it out, petals fall out of your mouth instead. you watch as they float down to the floor, looking at them with a bitter smile. picking them up, you stuff them into a pocket in your bag.

arriving at school, you walk into the classroom. there he is. sitting on his friend's table laughing. walking to your seat, you lay your head on your table. listening to him laugh made your day better, but worse at the same time. each laugh he let out increased the growing pain in your chest.

you're grateful your teacher doesn't notice.

that nobody at school notices that you keep going to the bathroom. your friends don't notice either, you don't know whether to feel hurt or happy. hurt that they don't know you're in pain, happy that it will make it easier for you to leave this world since they don't pay attention to you. quickly locking yourself in a stall, you start coughing with no end. daffodil petals leave your lips with red stains. your blood. taking out your phone, you search up the meaning of daffodils. "daffodils symbolize unrequited love, rebirth, new beginnings, and eternal life."

eternal life. something you knew you didn't have.

during lunch break, you see jungwon in the halls. he's smiling holding a small bouquet of pink tulips. you look at him with a sad smile, you know it's not for you, it would never be for you. feeling the need to cough again, you run into an empty hallway and pink petals leave your mouth. pink tulips. crazy to think how quickly seeing jungwon could affect you.

finally deciding to see the doctor, you go to the hospital after school. you sit on the cold metal seats in the waiting room, waiting for your name to be called. "shim _______?". quickly standing up, you made your way into the doctors office and greet the doctor. "so what brings you hear young lady?" he asks. "this." you respond, taking the petals out of your bag and spreading them on his desk. you see the doctor's eyes widen and he looks at you. "hanahaki.." you hear him say, "how long have you been coughing up petals?", "about a month." you say and he shakes his head, "this means that you only have a bit of time left, meaning you've had this for months but only started coughing petals until recently. I'm afraid you only have 5 months left.". your heart drops, but it's alright, it was already broken. nodding, you tell him you understand. "do you plan to have the surgery? or is there a chance the one you love will love you back?" the doctor asks with hopeful eyes. you shake your head, "neither." you say, "i don't want the surgery, and the one i love will never love me back.". "______" the doctor says your name softly, "you'll die.". "i know." you say,

"but i'd rather die than live a life not loving him."

you leave the hospital that day knowing you have 5 months left. nothing would heal your broken heart. jungwon could never grow love for you, the only thing growing was the flowers in your lungs. you make your way to your home, if you could even all it one. you didn't even know where your parents currently were, but you do know that "business trips are more important." according to them. laying on your bed, you stare at your ceiling, just a few more months you think, and all this will be over.

you try to make the most of school.

since in a few months you won't have to go, grades are not something for you to worry about anymore. it didn't matter with your current situation. you went to school to see him, and only for that sole reason. sitting with your friends at the cafeteria, you stare at jungwon seated on the opposite side of the room. seeing him smiling makes you smile. seeing him happy makes you happy. one of your friends ask you if you're okay. "are you okay, _____? you haven't touched your food at all.", truthfully, you didn't feel like eating anything these days, but you can't tell them that. "yes, I'm alright, just got a little distracted." and they nod. they continue their conversation and your eyes find your way back to jungwon. he's getting up to leave, you excuse yourself from your friends and follow him out at a distance.

"jungwon! when are you asking your crush out? you've already given her tulips!", you hear one of his friends say. "soon, not sure yet." he responds nudging his friend and laughing. "but i found out she likes roses." jungwon says, almost instantly you feel your chest tighten and you know that you need to make a run for it. you run in the opposite direction to the bathroom and lock the stall door. you start coughing, the pain in your chest becoming unbearable. red rose petals with blood on them.

you always thought roses were beautiful, but with beauty comes pain. the thorns growing in your lungs making your breath hitch. you knew that your time was running out faster than expected.

three months left.

you start writing in a journal, in hopes that someone will find it after you leave. that they'll read about your last months loving jungwon. that they'll read about your tragic love story that never even was a love story in the first place. you write about jungwon and all the things you liked about him, about being left alone at home, and about ever single kind of petal you have coughed up, sticking them to the pages and learning about the meaning of each one. you learned that red roses symbolized love and romance, how ironic. two things that you would never experience. not in this life at least, hopefully in the next.

one month left.

you wanted to talk to jungwon before you left forever. even if it was short and made no sense. you knew he got to school early and you made an effort to get there early too. he sat at his desk studying for the test later, mustering up the courage to walk up to him, you stand at the end of his desk and he looks up and gives you a confused look. "hi _____, do you need something?" he asks. "thank you, jungwon." you say and his eyebrows furrow. "for what?", "for everything." you say with a smile. "you're welcome?" he says still confused. flashing him a small smile, you get your bags and walk out the classroom leaving him alone, his eyes follow you as you walk out. he shrugs and goes back to what he was doing. he doesn't care.

that broke your heart again.

one week left.

you thought you were well prepared for your departure. you wrote a letter to your parents, leaving it on their table. you weren't even sure if they would ever come home and read it, but it didn't matter. their not-so-golden only child would be gone and they wouldn't even know. you wrote a letter to each of your friends, it was easy since you only had a few. you gave it to them at school and made them promise to read them in a week. you wanted to go in peace. you wanted to go alone.

3 days left.

you go to school to gather everything from your locker, touching the cold metal door for the last time. you greet your favorite teachers before you leave, you even buy your favorite drink from the cafeteria, you were going to miss how it tasted. you walk out of the school and turn to look at it. it would be the last time you see the school. the school you dreaded going to, the school where you met yang jungwon. you decided you were going to spend your last few days at home before making your way to where you plan to depart forever.

one day left.

you tidy up your room, straightening up your pillows and bedsheets. you clean your messy desk and leave the journal right in the middle. the journal that contained your thoughts, your fondest memories, the memories of your last months on this earth. making your way to the kitchen, the light the refrigerator emits feels blinding. taking out the last slice of leftover pie, you make yourself a cup of coffee to go with it and sit alone at the table. you didn't feel hungry, not anymore, but you forced yourself to eat your favorite foods one last time. you savor the taste of the coffee, the warmth temporarily soothing the pain in your lungs. you felt sick that night, maybe because you forced yourself to eat, maybe it was because you knew your time was running out. either way, you tried your best to fall asleep.

3 hours left.

you make your way to a field deep in your favorite park. it was off limits but you used to go there alone anyways. laying under a big tree, you stare up at they sky, you'll be up there soon. you feel your eyes start to tear up, you're crying. you don't mean to cry, but it's as if your body knows that your time is about to run out.

1 hour left.

"one day i will stop falling in love with you."

you tried to stop loving yang jungwon. heaven knows how much you tried. jungwon would never love you, but you would never stop loving him. you would love him even if you were dead. you would love him as you watched from above.

"some day, someone will like me like I like you."

is what you thought. that wasn't going to happen anymore, maybe not in this life at least. you were classmates. and you would remain classmates for the rest of his life, and your short one.

10 minutes left.

you look at the green grass and trees surrounding you. the sun was setting, painting the sky a mix of purple, pink and orange. you smile. if only jungwon was beside you enjoying this too.

but he wasn't. but the thought of it made your heart flutter.

your heart. your broken heart.

you loved yang jungwon, but he broke your heart. he has multiple times but he never knew. you would still let him do it again in every life, because that's how much you love him.

you begin to feel sleepy, it's almost as if your life is being drained out of you. you bring your hand up to your chest, to where your broken heart lies. the vines in your lungs suffocating you.

you look at the now dark and starry sky and let out one last breathe.

"i love you, yang jungwon." you say and close your eyes for the last time.

epilogue.

10 years later

the wind rustles the leaves of the tree you once lay under. some leaves fall and slowly land on the grass by the base, beside it, a flower has grown. a daffodil. the first flower you ever coughed up. you searched its meaning back then.

"daffodils symbolize unrequited love, rebirth, new beginnings, and eternal life."

maybe, just maybe, fate will let you have your new beginning.

that fate will give you another chance in your next life to be with the one you love.

[vorthodoxy]

ok but hear me out. An immortal pred who has a fucked up sense of love, falling in love with mortals and not wanting to leave them behind when they eventually die. so the best course of action? Eating them and digesting them. The pred thinks this will keep them together forever, and is totally fine with it, despite the guilt of hurting their love. The pred will eventually digest them of course, and in the morning the pred will lovingly caress the new fat on their tummy, having their partner apart of him forever

It's RLLY angsty but also kind of hot idk...

-🍓🎭

yESSSSS I'M ENTIRELY ON BOARD FOR THIS thank u strawberry thespian

the pred is lonely, part and parcel with being immortal, but the world is filled to the brim with so many interesting people! they travel from city to city, spending just long enough to get to know each one like the back of their hand before moving on to the next one, and then coming back once it's been long enough for the city to grow and change and transform.

they LOVE people. no matter where they go, they immerse themself in the lives of others, fascinated to see the way mortals learn and grow and make mistakes and leave a legacy. they dance with them, they tell stories with them, they tumble into beds with them.

every so often, they meet a particularly interesting one-- a savant of the generation, a genius, or a true humanitarian, or someone with enough ambition to strike the gods down from their seats. the pred will become this person's lover, their confidant, their muse. and they'll reveal their immortal nature to the sweet, brilliant, fascinating little human.

and, almost unfailingly, the mortal who has won their favour will ask if it's possible for them to share their immortality.

the pred will often play coy, piquing their mortal's interest even more fervently.

well, there is one way. it's wonderful. you would become so much more. but it's also painful. it... changes you in more ways than you know. i would only share this with someone i truly trusted.

and the mortal is so eager to prove their love, to prove they're trustworthy, that they're worth bringing into the aeons.

i would love nothing more than for you to join me.

the pred helps plan their delectable little artist's "last day as a mortal." the best day of their life, the day in which they finish their magnum opus, and prepare to become part of something much greater.

it's almost time. i trust you. do you trust me?

and the mortal nods...

hours later, the pred's immaculate, ravenous belly is gurgling and squeezing playfully around its squirming prisoner, hard at work processing the new hefty meal.

the pred is amorously massaging their massive gut, trying to get their tasty lover to just relax, it's okay, let it happen. you wanted to be part of something greater, and I wanted you to be part of ME. and now we both get what we want! shh, shh, i know it's scary, but i'm right here, i'm all around you, and i'll keep you safe... soon, nothing will be able to touch you, no blades, no disease nor famine, not even time itself... i couldn't leave you behind to waste away, to fall to dust, you're too (uuurp) beautiful... and delicious... just stop squirming and let my belly take you apart~

of course, they planned this perfectly, they've had practice. no one will disturb them this evening, or the next day. they fall asleep still rubbing their great, bulging tummy, trying to soothe their softening meal.

the next morning, their gut is about halfway done redistributing their lover to their hips, chest, thighs, and waistline. they happily pinch and squeeze the new layer of soft, warm pudge on their body, delighted to see their lover taking so well to their new position in life. they spend the day in bed, celebrating their lover's "immortality".

then, in the evening, they sigh, squeeze into their traveling clothes, and set out. it's time to move on to the next city.

[justanamesstuff]

Unrequited love backstage - Matty Healy x f!reader

Part 2 of Unrequited love at the studio.

A/N: Guys, don't expect this every week/weekend, but I got a little obsessed with this concept. I'm a sucker for this kind of angsty vibe, unrequited love, friends paining, etc. HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

Warnings: paining, fluff, little angst, typos.

Word count: 1.7 k

Blog masterlist

Part 1

Y/n entered the dressing room excited about the show. She was meant to give some words of encouragement to the boys before going to her seat. Matty was the only one inside the room. He was standing in all his glory in front of the big mirror, fighting with his tie.

Matty’s friend whistled for him, trying to get his attention. He turned to his side; Matty glanced at Y/n annoyed. Y/n arched her eyebrows, silently asking. They could read each other’s mind without even speaking sometimes.

“Can you help me with the tie?” he punctuated his question by sliding the tie off his neck.

Matty extended the piece of clothing towards Y/n. It was kind of an offer to her, a silent way to say ‘come closer’. His hand was moving anxiously between them. Y/n step forward, carefully, analysing his aura. 

The show that night was the biggest one the band was going to offer for the fans up to that moment. Y/n empathized with Matty. Her stomach was twisting, her chest hurt a little with all the anticipation; and she wasn’t going to perform.

Y/n came closer, taking the tie on her hand. She let the piece round her own neck, so she can reach for the collar of his shirt, pulling it up. “Haven’t you done it like a hundred times?” she asked him in a funny tone. 

Seconds later, Y/n placed Matty’s tie around his neck. She reached behind his head, bringing both ends of it to the front of his shirt. Matty’s breath was fanning over her face. He was close. 

He was focused on every one of her actions. “Yes, but my hands are shaking…” the frontman admitted.

It wasn’t a total lie. Matty was nervous about the night, he wanted Y/n close as well. He wasn’t going to tell her that, though. 

“Aww, are you nervous, baby boy?” Matty tried hard not to blush. He was putty on her hands when she addressed him with nicknames, silly ones were his favourite.

He scoffed, “Man.”

“Right, I always forget.” Y/n looked up at him, detaching her sight from the tie for a single second. She sensed Matty pinching her left hip, Y/n whined and laughed about it. Matty let his hands rest there. He needed physical contact with Y/n. 

The way she showed the tip of her tongue while she was focused on doing the perfect knot for him warmed Matty’s heart. Her soft lips, the bridge of her nose, her eyes, everything about her enamoured him. She was perfect for his eyes. 

“You know this is one of my favourite outfits on you?” Y/n confessed, bringing him out of his trance. 

Matty wasn’t expecting her revelation, although the apple of her cheeks turning red excited the singer. “All black?” 

“Yeah.” Y/n declared, without looking up to his face. She finally finished the knot, tagging the short bit under, so it was right in place.

“Are you blushing, baby girl?” Matty teased her, bringing the collar down, hiding the tie around his neck. 

Y/n pushed his chest, leaning backwards far from him. “Shut up!” she exclaimed. 

Matty studied her factions. Y/n was indeed embarrassed about admitting –partially– she fancied him in that outfit. 

“Oh, you are!” he tried to bring her back into his embrace, rounding her with his strong arms.

Y/n tried to change the subject, patting the centre of his chest where the tie laid. “There, all tied up!” 

“Kinky.”

“You’re impossible…”

Y/n blanked her eyes at his comment. She decided it was time to leave and wait with the rest of the crowd for the guys to perform. 

Matty tensed the muscles of his arms, preventing her from leaving. They were chest to chest close. “Don’t go.” He begged in a whisper, drawing little circles on the upper part of her back. 

Y/n dared to look at his hazel eyes, “You need to warm up and all of that, Matt.” she reminded him. 

Matty ignored her words, bringing Y/n impossibly closer to his body. “Just one more second…” he said, going to hide his face on her neck, resting his cheek on her shoulder. 

Y/n let him, sneaking her arms over Matty’s shoulders. Her mouth touched, slightly, the lobe of his left ear. “You’re going to smash it, handsome!” Y/n’s breath touching his skin sent shivers down his spine. 

“Mmm.” Matty let out, lost in her essence, her touch, everything about her. 

After a few minutes, rocking their bodies –still intertwined- slowly from side to side, Y/n’s sight fell on the clock adoring the wall. It was time to go now.

“Okay, time to shine. I’ll go get my seat.” Y/n pushed back, looking at his face. 

Matty smiled at her, bumping her nose, while telling her, “I’ll see you later, alligator.” 

He let her go, but kept his attention on her body moving toward the door. Suddenly, she turned around, smiling wide. 

“Break a leg!” 

“I don’t want to break-“ Matty went to joke about it, but Y/n’s words shut him.

“Don’t dedicate a song to me!” Y/n interrupted, bringing to present a previous situation with Matty. 

She hated to be the centre of attention. Once, during a show, he didn’t name her but explained that the next song they were going to play was dedicated to one of his closest friends, someone he adored deeply. Y/n knew it was about her when they started playing her favourite song; the one she admitted to absolutely adore, after Matty’s insistence. Y/n complained about it after the show but ended up thanking him as well. It was a song they rarely played, so she couldn’t deny it was a nice gesture. 

“We’ll see about that…” Matty responded cheekily. 

“Healy, I’ll break your leg myself if you do that again!”

“Insignificant threats.” he brushed her off.

Y/n stared at his eyes, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. “Do it and face the consequences.” she warned him, pointing at his face with her finger. 

“Oh, come on…last time, you cried and then hugged me. That was all the damage…” Matty recalled the events as they were. Y/n blushed again. 

Before she could add anything else, George’s voice came from behind her back, “What damage?” he asked.

“He’s threaten with dedicate me a song again…” Y/n shared with G.

George looked between the pair, he laughed at Matty’s face. “Whipped Matty.” he stated, faking coughing. He passed by Y/n’s side, touching her shoulder as a greeting. 

“Fuck you, George!”

“If you’re going to fuck George, at least wait for us to leave.” Adam said with a polite tone, entering the room.

Ross shivered in horror thinking about what Adam said, “I don’t need those images in my mind.” his shoulders shaking dramatically. 

Y/n loved the whole band and crew, they were a second family for her. All of them were friendly and welcoming. She watched the guys interact like adolescents. Y/n had to leave. 

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it…good luck!” she wished them all.

They chanted in unison “Bye, Y/n” and  “Enjoy the show!” except for Matty. He ran to the door, setting his eyes on her back while she walked down the hall. 

He stood at the door frame of the dressing room, shouting, “I’m between ‘Settle Down’, ‘Don’t Worry’” he continued messing with her about dedicating a song. Knowing the reaction he would get with the mention of another song she liked, Matty smirked wide kept talking, “or ‘Antichrist’” As he expected, Y/n turned around with the mention of it.

“Would you do that?” Y/n questioned him, sceptic. 

Matty crackled. “‘Course not.” Y/n’s face turn out to an annoyed one, she turned her back instantly making Matty laughed. “Maybe if you ask nicely,” he kept going. “I would do it just for you, love!”

But Y/n was done with his tricks and jokes, she continued walking far from him. 

“Whatever!” she answered him without looking, soon enough she disappeared from Matty’s sight. 

He walked back inside, smiling, calmer than before Y/n showed up. Once inside, the guys burst into a group laugh. Matty looked at them puzzled. 

“Oh, man…” Ross went to patted him on the shoulder.

“What?” he asked at his mate. 

“He's down badly, right?” George talked directly to Adam and Ross, ignoring Matty –who was trying to get what they were talking about–.

Adam nodded, “He’s all hearts and kisses when she’s around.” he presented his facts. 

“What on earth are you dickheads talking about?” Matty tried to make eye contact with them, and get real answers, but the guys continued to not pay attention to the frontman.

Ross took pity on him. “You and Y/n.” he clarified. 

Matty still didn’t get what they were implying exactly.

“What about it?” 

“You’re down boy.” Adam said finally. 

Matty half laughed, surprised by Adam’s sayings. “She’s my best friend.”

Inside, Matty was trying to keep his calm. He was so sure the rest of the world didn’t know about his feelings for her. He sometimes tried to ignore them. Lately it was harder and harder. Although, he wasn’t in no position to admitted out loud.

George interfered. “We’re almost your brothers, and you don’t offer to dedicate songs…”

“I’m messing with her!”

“You don’t cuddle us…” G continued.

“I- She’s my friend.” he repeated his statement, less convinced than before. Once his own voice reached his ears, he wanted to facepalm himself. 

“Sure, Matty.”

Matty stared at the floor, saying, “It’s not like that with her. She’s not into me, and I-“ he stopped talking. 

They waited, giving him time. “And you?” Ross encouraged him to continue after a few minutes.

Matty stared at his best friends, finding in their faces something he couldn’t quite place but dislike enormously. 

“Forget it. We have a show to do!” he made his way to the door. 

“Poor thing…” Adam said, Ross and George agreed, shaking their heads. 

“Agh!” Matty screamed when he heard.

‘Did Y/n noticed he was down bad for her?’, he worried. 

Part 3

[yawarakaizai]

pmzai with an equally miserable s/o fem reader

ⵌ IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You sit and stare and wait for him to return to you. You've been bad and you've been good. There's nothing and no one that gives you purpose like he. NOTE reader+dazai are 17/18, implications of s/h, slight misogyny, death of parent, it's kind of angsty.. , soft couple, miserable couple, sui/cide mention+ideation COMPANY I'm Not Human At All

A/N ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ th is wa s har d to make b ecause i h ad sOOO OO m any ide as an d my playli st wa s feelin g good an d kept pla y ing song s th at g ave me diff fic ide as ;; th is is sad ,,, i do nt like sa d fics bu t ,,, this is kin d of a ven t? hehe FEE L FREE TO REQ UEST MOR E!

Your tender heart would care for an injured bunny rescued from a bear trap.

You'd nurse the animal as best you could yet it would always die.

Your father was a hunter. He earned your living costs by selling animal hide and what meat he'd have spare after covering what you'll need. Your mother died when you were a little girl.

You were as sweet as your mother.

Your father would tell stories of how She would gaze out on the winter sky and say to Herself, "My daughter will be as snow. Gentle and graceful, yet freezing to those who demand more of what perfect she is already."

When your Mother died, they put Her in a box full of pink carnations and orchids. Surely to counteract the smell of Her decaying corpse, to display Her flesh as something beautiful before her descent under soil to where Her bones will return and fertilise what surrounds.

Rural life in Japan was not for the weak. Which you were.

You picked up what your Mother left behind.

Tending to the chickens in their coops and shearing the sheep, you'd milk the cows and free the rabbits when Father wasn't looking.

Your hands plush with baby fat would clench around your rosary every night and pray like a good girl.

By the time you reached puberty, your features resembled your Mother more than ever before. Your figure changed and as did your father.

He'd sneer at the dress that fit you perfectly just two years ago. You'd become defiant and bold, a rebellious child.

" Father, but why? "

Your protests and argumentative nature would anger him. And now, you weren't a good girl.

Shouting battles always left you sobbing into thick pillows until your throat hurt.

It was at the age of fifteen did you find out what lies beneath your thin flesh and blue pulse.

You are made of bright crimson and spite.

At sixteen, you ran away.

It was impulsive. You forgot how and what happened. You don't want to remember.

Your calves ached and your feet blistered with pain from trudging up and down hills and farms.

You are a mixture of love and loss.

Everything is a blur, and sometimes you question whether running away was the wisest thing to do.

You had collapsed the moment you stepped foot into the city.

A sad, lost soul who ran away from her father.

You had been a..

" Very bad girl. "

The voice startled you enough for you to spill the batter all over your clean white apron.

" Osamu! " You cried out in disbelief, the boy laughing hysterically. " That isn't funny, knock it off. "

In a way, Dazai reminded you of those bunnies you'd rescue in your youth. He was caught and wounded by the claws of Life. And although you may cup his cheeks into your hands and tell him 'You're alive', he had already died before you were able to cradle him to your chest.

" I told you not to wake up early, Y/N! I should have known to not mention my fondness of crêpes to you. "

You felt untamed, wild hair brush against the bare of your neck before soft lips made contact with your jawline. A soft kiss pressing into what was cold. He was grateful to have you in his sad miserable life.

And even if you two were not perfect for each other, you'd both die to watch the world burn.

" I did it on my own accord. " You lied. " You did not. " He calls your bluff like air. You huff in surrender.

Setting down the metal bowl of paste, you turn to face him. You think of the horrors that his empty, black eye must have seen. His other eye, obscured by bandages, was a mystery to you. You respected him enough to not budge him about it.

" I wished to make you something special. "

You confess, certain he already knew your intention. Your boyfriend was simply smarter than many.

" I don't need anything. Coming home to you is enough, bella. '' His hand stretches to you like death.

Your eyes were not as bright as they were when you were little. They reflected the bad girl that you've become. The one that left her sickly impoverished father in treacherous conditions alone because her feelings were hurt.

" Belladonna. "

He'd pull you back into reality when he'd notice you slipping.

" 'samu. You've barely been coming home anymore, okay? Let me do this, just this once for you. " You snaked your arms around his waist and he mirrored your action, twirling you both out of the kitchen.

Dazai was inexplicable to you. He was a man your father wouldn't like. A man your Mother would hate. A man your younger self would despise.

You willingly moved into a shared apartment with the mafia executive after a few months of living in Yokohama. It was him to have picked you up from the streets. Sensing you were worth more than the muddied appearance you showed at that time.

Your one-time use turned into a second-time use, and your second-time use blossomed like a flower in Spring. You interested him.

You both intoxicated each other. Dazai was able to make you feel light. You felt weightless and as fragile as a butterfly. Weak, small and at his mercy.

" Then don't hide yourself away from the kitchen when I'm right here, love. "

By the time your spinning head focused on what was around you again, he had toppled you both onto the living room couch. He loomed over you, fully dressed in his mafia uniform, his stupid tie obscuring your vision until he tucked it between the buttons of his revere blouse.

" What would you do if I were to die? "

" Osamu. Stop that. "

You muttered.

You feel his life. The warmth of his body, the tender flow of blood heating his body as his finger traced patterns into your cheek. Your heart keeps beating.

" Answer me, Y/N. "

You didn't enjoy thinking of your partners demise. You wouldn't mind if you were to die.

The problem was, you didn't want to be alive for your boyfriends funeral, yet you didn't wish for your boyfriend to be alive for yours.

You loved each other to the point it became hate. Hate for how the other made living seem worth it.

Dazai had an eventful life. You did not.

You had no education whatsoever. According to the government, you did not exist. You had no birth certificate. You were no one. You lived hidden in this cramped apartment.

When Dazai was away, it was only you and your thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous thing.

" I think I would kill myself too. "

Your voice caught up on an unexpected crack. You were puzzled until your vision became glassy.

" Pretty baby. I'm sorry. " His apology was belated as you'd already begun to sniffle, he lowered his weight on you, turning to lay on his side as he pulled you in close, coaxing you into silence.

" Don't die, 'samu. Not here, not now. " Your sad little beg mused him.

Dazai was all you had left. You were most certain that if you were to part, you would die.

With Dazai, you were still inadequate. Without Dazai, you truly were nothing but a walking corpse.

He thinks that you are something weak and soft, with a fire raging in you that cried to be extinguished before it could spread.

You hush yourself to enjoy the feeling surrounding you. You feel Dazai's ribcage rise with each steady breath he takes. The beating of a heart is somewhere far deep in, and yours is jumping in your throat.

" Not now. " He repeated after you, and part of you wished to believe it.

There was something mystical about Osamu.

Something that warned you to not feed coal to the flame.

And that if you reached your hand in, you'd burn yourself on what was forbidden.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[moonlight-prose]

#10 "why are you doing this?" "because I love you" with Joel from the prompt list? The angst potential is limitless but also the fluff ♥️🤌

THE WASTELAND OF A BLEEDING HEART

a/n: i took a small writing break for a few days, but i finally managed to churn out the end of this fic. it's not my best thing i've written. to be entirely honest i don't really like how it turned out, but we live and die by the pen right. i hope you like it babes.

summary: joel's fears began to interfere.

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty ass joel, stubborn joel + stubborn reader dynamic, miscommunication (cause...*gestures to joel* yeah), fluff.

You had every right to be mad at him. After what you two had gone through, the way he had been treating you, gave you enough reason. You should be mad at him. But then he looked at you, his lips pulling up into a barely there grin, brown eyes pulling you in, and you knew…the anger would never last.

Until now it seemed.

“Miller!” you called out, jogging to catch up with Tommy, his quick pace a little too fast for even you. “Where’s the fire?”

“No fire,” he smiled, his hands shoved in his pockets to stave off the cold.

“Good.” You should have grabbed your thicker jacket off the back of the chair. Although it never even occurred to you at the time. Not when your mind was going in a million different directions at once. “I’m looking for Joel—”

You stopped at the sight of his expression shifting, quickly being masked by another carefree smile. Yet you could see beneath his facade; caught the glimpse of worry in his eyes that darted away from you. That was the problem with Tommy Miller. He was too easy to fucking read. Which left you in a predicament such as this.

“What happened?” you asked, noticing how he barely even looked at you.

“Joel uh…”

Your brow creased. “Joel what?”

“Listen it wasn’t my idea and if somethin’ is happening between you two—”

“Tommy.”

He sighed, glancing up at the sunlight that seemed to be the only warmth in Jackson. “He told me to take you off the outdoor patrol shift.”

“He—” You felt your chest tighten painfully, that familiar feeling of loneliness settling back in your bones. “Did you…take me off?”

Tommy nodded reluctantly, his eyes never once meeting yours. “Said he didn’t want you to get hurt, and I…well shit I kind of agree with him.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” You felt the burn in your chest begin to spread—an uncomfortable sensation you always hated. “You can’t just take me off patrol when everyone is supposed to—”

Tommy’s eyes finally snapped to you, his lips forming a thin line. “I know you’re pissed, but think about it honey. If Joel loses you…there’s no coming back for him.” He sighed, dipping his head to glance at the icy covered ground. “I’d rather not bring back that version of my brother.”

Pain erupted throughout you, clogging every part of your body until you could feel your heart screaming. Though Tommy wore the face of a sorrowful man, you knew that he had simply taken away your initiative. He made the choice for you just as Joel did without bothering to let you in on any of it. Anger simmered beneath the surface of your pain; the mask you were wearing—clear and free of any emotions.

Somehow that made Tommy’s expression even worse. He would never truly know how hurt you were, because you wouldn’t tell him.

How could you?

“Have a good day Tommy,” you said, your voice void of any emotion.

“Wait—”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything more, too focused on the fact that Joel had once again made a choice for you. Simply because he believed it was the best option. Part of you wondered where it stemmed from; why he was so adamant on keeping you in the town limits, unwilling to let you go. Except then you began to count. Each person Joel lost, each tragedy he had to endure, all added up to something in the end.

Hours later you found yourself still thinking about it as you attempted to engross yourself in a novel. One you read over and over again, too stubborn to let it go. Maybe that’s where you and Joel were the same. Two people who couldn’t find it in themself to allow change in a world that had already taken away so much.

The familiar creak of the front door brought you back for a brief moment, your anger flickering to life in your chest. Joel simply grinned at the sight of you curled up in a chair, one of his shirts adorning your body. A blanket so old he was worried it was unhealthy to be around, was spread out across your legs. 

Except that’s not what stopped him in his tracks. The glare he felt burn through his chest, plummeting straight down to his stomach, caused him to freeze. His eyes tried to search your steeled expression for an explanation.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tommy let me know today that you told him to take me off the patrol shift.” The ire in your voice surprised you.

His eyes fell shut, a breathy shit leaving his mouth. “I was gonna tell you—”

“He said you didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“That’s true,” he replied, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. “Can I explain please honey?”

You stood, letting the book and blanket fall to the floor. “No. You don’t get to make those decisions for me Joel. I’m more than capable of handling myself out there and you more than anyone knows that.”

The step he took forward coupled with the look on his face nearly bent your resolve, but you stood your ground. You were upset with him for a reason.

“I told Tommy to let me tell you first before doing anything rash. Apparently he still doesn’t listen very well.” He sighed, his hands falling to rest at his hips as he saw your guarded demeanor. “I just don’t want anything happenin’ to you.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to make that choice for me,” you said. “I just want to know why. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.” The words were blurted out before he even comprehended them himself. His eyes widened slightly, mouth snapping shut as he waited for your response.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands falling to your sides limply. “What?” you breathed.

Two months ago you had said those exact words to him in the safety of your bedroom. The fear of setting them free continued to linger in the back of your mind. Yet there he was. Finally telling you the one thing he was most scared of—loving you completely…only to one day lose you. That alone broke off a piece of your heart.

“I can’t lose you like I lost her,” he said softly. “I won’t.”

“Joel,” you whispered, finally moving towards him until you were close enough for his hands to reach for you. “You won’t lose me.”

“You don’t know—”

Grasping his face, you pulled him close, his breath washing across your chin. “You won’t lose me. Okay?” He nodded, his lips brushing against yours. “But you have to let me choose for myself.”

“I will,” he replied, giving into your touch, allowing himself to be loved wholeheartedly for the first time since Sarah. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“You got it cowboy.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips as his laughter washed over you, settling deep in your chest and keeping you warm.

[rottingpirate]

Hello I want to cowardly ask you for some light angst with könig if it's not a problem. I've been craving some sweet angsty comfort with the big guy

Maybe something happened during mission and he got overwhelmed and stuff and reader finds him and comforts him

I absolutely love your writing btw I'd marry you if I could

Staawp ily <3

Lucky to have you || König x M!reader

Warnings: sensory overload, emotional hurt/comfort

Wrong. Everything was wrong.

His hands started to shake as soon as he got off the helicopter. He wanted to disappear. To pretend like he wasn’t here and instead somewhere else. Not feel anything. He was so tired and all he wanted to do was get into his room and stay there forever.

He hated it, the talking, the whispering and murmuring, the bright lights of the base, how tight his shirt felt, the light smell of your cologne. He hated it all. Every little thing had gotten on his nerves today, from unnecessary words to his struggle in opening the cabinets to successfully completing the mission.

He was exhausted. The type of exhausted that just sleep couldn’t fix, the exhaustion that creeps into your bones, dragging you under water and not letting you swim back up.

He took a deep breath, then another.

He got closer towards the entrance of his room. As soon as he got there he wanted to melt into the ground, to turn into a small puddle of nothingness. But even that wish didn’t come true as there was a knock on his door almost as soon as he closed it.

Another knock. Every sharp movement resonated in his skull.

Your voice. "König, can I come in?"

He nodded. When nothing happened he mentally cursed himself, you couldn’t see him after all. "Yes." His voice shook and felt embarrassed.

"Hey," You muttered, walking in and closing the door behind you. "What’s goin’ on?"

You. You were here. You were in his room. No. You couldn't see him like this. You shouldn't see him this weak and vulnerable. Or maybe he deserved it.

He screwed his eyes shut feeling self-conscious.

"Woah, hey, are you okay big guy?" Your voice was soft as you approached him, footsteps stopping in front of him.

"Too…much."

"Okay, try breathing in and out slowly, just try to relax..."

The man sucked in a shaky breath, holding it for a second before blowing it out slowly. It helped, but it wasn't enough. "Can I touch you?" König's eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded. A strong hand rested against his shoulder, another hand resting on his knee.

"I need you to breathe with me, yeah?" it almost sounds like you're pleading. Voice shakes where it was once strong.

König opens his mouth and tries to do as you say, but it's too much. His chest stutters and he's left wheezing.

"Slow down, König," Your tone has dropped to a whisper, your mouth is right against König's ear and he focuses all his energy on your voice.

Anything but the pain in his chest and the tears building around his eyes. "In through your nose, slowly and out through your mouth." He puts emphasis on the words slowly and König does as asked.

"Alright, keep doing that. Can you name one thing you can taste?" It was a strange request, but König thought about it for a moment, mumbling his answer.

"Coffee." You brought him a cup this morning.

"Okay, good. Now tell me two things you can smell."

"Gasoline and...books?" He heard a light chuckle.

"Okay, yeah. Three things you can hear."

He listened, trying to identify every small sound he heard. "The wind...people talking...and...your voice."

"Okay. How about four things you can feel?"

"My clothes, the ground...the bed sheets...you..." He was feeling slightly better and his breathing was more controlled.

"Okay, will you open your eyes for me?" You wondered.

König let out a shaky breath, opening his eyes slowly. He was met with a kind smile, and you were crouched down right in front of König.

"Um-"

"There, okay, lastly five things you can see." You were right infront of him, and König didn't want to look away. He knew what you looked like, but he had never seen you this close. You were beautiful.

"The wall, um... the door. A book..." his gaze shifted back to you. "Your eyes. And... your hand on my leg." Smiling, you nodded.

"Good. Better?" König nodded, knowing he was staring, but not really caring. You let out a small laugh, taking your hands off him.

"Thank you"

"König," You spoke softly. "Are you feeling a bit better?"

"Y-Yeah," He says. He sniffs and shuffles closer to you and whispers back "Please… please stay." He flings his arms around you.

"Please stay."

"Of course I’ll stay."

[its-jaytothemee]

Tonight...And Every Night - Chapter 6

Pairing: Astarion x Tav, Halsin x Tav; Astarion and Tav POVs

Word count: 1,506; Chapter 6, Tav then Astarion POV

Rating: Mature

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav fails to convince Astarion to reject the Rite of Profane Ascension and refuses to help him complete it. He leaves her and the party, but regrets his choices later. Angsty and fluffy, POVs from both Astarion and Tav.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Spawn!Astarion, Angst w/ Happy Ending

Author's Note: This was inspired by my playthrough where I somehow failed all of the persuasion checks for Astarion after the Cazador fight, leaving me obviously devastated. Finally getting to some soft Halsin moments...my favorite!

Tav must have drifted off at some point while she was laying in Astarion’s tent. She woke to Halsin softly shaking her shoulders. Slowly, she sat up and took in her surroundings again. The pain she felt from today was still a crushing weight on her shoulders.

“I thought I might find you here.” He said gently, taking her hand in his. “Everyone has been very worried about you.”

She gave a small nod in response. Truthfully, she didn’t know what she was doing here other than punishing herself with the memories. Echoes of their time here whispered into her ears. It was as if she could hear their quiet laughs shared after everyone had gone to bed, she could hear his soft sighs in response to her gentle touches, she could hear his nightmares being soothed away by her comforting words in the depth of the night.

“I just found myself walking here. I…” Tears started to well up in her eyes again.

“Come with me, my heart. I think you’ve tortured yourself enough for one evening.” He stood up and slowly helped pull her to her feet. He hugged her tightly against his chest before helping her walk back outside.

She paused outside the tent, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest. She took a few deep, steadying breaths as Halsin wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. In that moment she was incredibly grateful to have him there with her. He had a soothing presence and his warm arms took away the chill of the evening. They stood there for a moment, looking over the familiar scene.

“Halsin…what’s wrong with me?” She asked softly.

“What do you mean?” He moved his head to the side to look at her.

“I feel so…stupid.” She suddenly felt embarrassed admitting this to him. “I’ve only known him a short time, but I really thought that maybe…maybe…” She trailed off, unable to finish her thought. She took a deep breath.

“I…I loved him.” With that, the tears flowed freely again. “I still love him. And I really thought that he loved me back.”  She turned around to sob into Halsin’s chest.

“Why would that mean there’s something wrong with you?” He asked gently.

“Because I should be furious. I’m angry, but I should hate him, by all rights he should be dead to me.” She barely choked the words out between sobs.

“But I…” she continued, sniffling, “I don’t hate him, not even in the slightest. If he came walking back into camp right now, I would forgive him. I’d comfort him and tend to his wounds and let him share my bedroll. Why do I keep giving people chances to use me? How am I this pathetic?” She buried her face deeper into his chest, her entire torso ached from her sobs.

Halsin pulled away slightly so he could lift her chin to look into her eyes.

“Tav, there is nothing wrong with you.” He had tears in his eyes as well. “You have more love and compassion in your heart than this entire city combined. You give without thought of reward and you love unconditionally. You would plunge your hand into your chest and rip out your own beating heart if you thought it would save someone close to you. There is not a single person here in this camp who has not had their life changed by your infinite kindness, Astarion included. He may not realize it yet, but what you did today was a profound act of love. You saved him from himself, even though you knew it meant you could lose him. It may take a day, it may take a decade, but one day he will realize it.” He paused for a moment, studying her face.

“No one here would dare to call you pathetic, so why do you give that title to yourself?” He wiped away a tear from her eyes just as one fell from his.

“I…I’m no one Halsin, I’m nothing. All of my confidence is a façade, trying desperately to keep everyone together. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing here. They’ve put their lives in my hands, and today I lost one of them. Who’s to say whether I can keep anyone else from falling? How am I supposed to lead them? How?” Her voice was getting louder and more desperate, her words struggling to be understood through her cries. When Halsin spoke again, his voice was a soft whisper but the agony in his tone matched her own.

“I know something of the burden of leadership, my heart. I understand the doubt that plagues your mind. I have loved and grieved, carried the heavy load of hundreds of lives lost. Yet even I was all but lost until you came to my rescue in the goblin camp. You brought light back into my life, quite literally banishing the shadows that clouded my mind. You saved everything and everyone I hold dear. You are far too modest, my love.” He took her face in both of his hands, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You. Are. Everything.” He whispered, another few tears rolling down his cheeks.

Tav stared into his wise, gentle eyes, desperate to see the person he saw in her. She may not trust her own thoughts right now, but she did trust him. She slowly wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him into a soft kiss. The tears mixing on their faces and dripping onto her chest. She pulled away and let Halsin hold her against him until she finally felt strong enough to stand on her own.

Tav took his hand in hers and was just about to suggest that they join the others around the fire when a strangely familiar voice called out to her.

“He’s right, you know.” The voice was very timid.

Tav and Halsin both spun around, readying themselves for a fight. A figure covered in splatters of blood and wearing a dark cloak stood maybe five meters away from them. The sight of his messy, white curls and tired, crimson eyes paralyzed her.

“Astarion?” She whispered.

***

Astarion finally arrived at the familiar camp. He kept himself crouched low and against the tree line. He carefully observed the figures around the fire, trying to determine if Tav was with them. Not finding her there, he slowly made his way around the camp’s perimeter, taking extra care not to alert anybody to his presence.

He heard some soft voices not far away, as he kept circling he realized they were coming from…his tent? He kept moving, following the sound of the voices he was now able to identify as Tav and Halsin. As he got closer to them, he could hear the sounds of Tav sniffling and crying, but they were muffled. He was finally able to get to a hidden spot where he could see the two of them. They both looked exhausted. Tav had her face completely hidden in Halsin’s large chest, her whole body seemed to shake from her crying. He could only hear pieces of what she was saying.

“I loved him…I should hate…I don’t…forgive him.”

His whole body tensed at those few pieces he caught. Could she really be saying that she would…forgive him?

Halsin was speaking again, but he couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. He was looking at Tav with such a soft expression. Astarion strained his ears, trying to decipher their words when Tav suddenly cried out, louder than before.

“I…I’m no one Halsin, I’m nothing.” He heard her yell through her sobs.

His heart shattered into a thousand pieces hearing her say that. How could she not see how amazing she is? How could she ever think that she was worthless? He listened as she cried into Halsin’s arms, listened as he told her how incredible she was, how he owed everything he had to her. His praises echoing those in Astarion’s heart.

“You. Are. Everything.” He heard from Halsin’s soft, soothing voice. And she was, Tav was everything to him.

‘Go tell her that.’ He thought to himself.

His heart was pounding in his chest, his palms were sweaty. He thought he was ready to stand up and make himself known when he saw Tav pull Halsin in for a tender kiss. His courage faltered, all he wanted was for her to be happy. He wanted her to be with someone who deserved her and as much as he wanted to be that someone, it seemed like she may have already found them. But if anyone was capable of loving two people equally and completely, it was Tav. When the two of them separated from each other, Astarion made a choice. He needed her to know how he felt, even if she rejected him. Knowing all too well that the next few moments could crush his very soul, his very being, he took a deep breath and stepped out of the trees.

[red-riding-wood]

Hi)

Saw that you’d like to write something angsty or maybe dark on Peaky Blinders🙂

Maybe Luca Changretta x reader where they slowly fall out of love with each other but meanwhile realize that they still will never leave because they’re so used to the way things are

(Also looking forward to your fic with Dmitri from The Grand Budapest☺️) 😘

Absinthe

Luca Changretta x F!Reader

Peaky Blinders

Warnings: sexual references, mention of kidnapping/violence, mention of domestic abuse, language, very vague allusion to suicide, lots of angst (this is not a happy story lol)

A.N. Thank you for the request!! I hope this is what you had in mind. I sort of wrote this on a whim at 5 am when I couldn't sleep and I ended up projecting a lot of my own shit onto both characters so I don't know if it'll be to your tastes 'cause I'm a bit iffy on this one myself. And thank you; I really hope to start writing Dmitri x Alice soon and am so excited for it!

WC: 1504

“You will not survive on your own, amore mio.”

You hesitated, your heart sinking into your gut as you feared his words to be true. A shiver danced wickedly across the bare of your flesh.

And then, tugging the Italian silk of your dress over your body, you stood, his hand falling from where it had sat cradled in your lap. The empty in your chest split a little wider; those fingers used to squeeze your hip and pull you back to bed as he’d beg you not to leave. Now, they seemed to possess no love, perhaps not even want.

You cast a glance to where they lay limp against the mattress, and dared to observe his sullen look, his clenched jaw, the way that eyes that used to be so bright with adoration now wouldn’t even look at you.

When was the last time he’d really looked at you?

It was probably when you were kids, just barely out of school, and the gloating smirk of the boy had fallen around his cigarette, and his green eyes had glittered like peridot, as you told him yes.

Yes, to marrying him. Yes, to loving him in sickness and in health. Yes, ‘til death did you part.

And this, this sickness of the heart, it had not released you from your oath. Instead, it killed you, slowly, snapped the threads of your soul one by one, seized one shard of your heart each time you looked at him.

The times that hurt the most were always when you looked him in the eye, because you saw your own need reflected in their decaying depths. It might’ve been easier if they were vacant, if they were as cold as his loveless touch and his bitter disposition.

“I may not,” you said. Silences weren’t uncommon between the two of you anymore; you never had anything to say that was joyful like you had in your youth. Breaking it felt like the air had simultaneously returned to your lungs while also being held captive, for you always couldn’t help but hope that he’d say something kind, but also didn’t know how long the silence would stretch afterward.

“But I’m hurting, Luca,” you said, your voice breaking now as a tear threatened to bead on your eyelash, and your chest tightened. “And this is the only way I can think of to be free of my pain. Other than…”

You swallowed a cruel lump in your throat. You didn’t wish to think about the alternative you had once considered.

Animated suddenly by a burst of raw yet barely caged violence, Luca tugged his robe sharply around his shoulders and fumbled for the box of matchsticks on the desk. He wedged one between the teeth he used to knead at it, his inhale deep. Both efforts to soothe a soul darkened by rot.

“I have to leave,” you said, but you had hardly made it more than a few feet to the door before his fingers had wrapped themselves vice-like around your wrist, yanking you back so that you nearly tripped over your heels. His wedding ring bit into the delicate flesh, chilling as it was painful.

And you had no choice but to look him in the eye.

“You’re not leaving,” he growled, his tone almost predatory but that gaze, green like absinthe, entrapping you in a sea of emotions, pleading to you in morose glimmers that peeked past umber stripes of rage.

As you fought your tears, you conceded to his grasp, knowing he could easily overpower you if he wanted. And you shook your head, your lip curling bitterly upwards at what you had to utter,

“I’ve changed. I’m not your wife anymore.”

“The papers state otherwise.”

“Is this really what you want?” Your lip trembled with your own fury now – a fury that stemmed from your agony because you had nothing tangible to blame it on. And you struggled against his grasp feebly. “Do you really want a wife who’s unhappy? A wife who goes to bed every night with a hole in her chest?”

Luca’s grip softened, and for a moment, you thought you saw hurt flash across his irises. He turned his head away and brought his fingers up to brush across the faint stubble of his jaw.

And when his grip released, your wrist had never felt so wretchedly cold, and when he slammed the door behind him, your chest had never felt so achingly empty.

---

He had been so close to hurting you that time. Really hurting you, like he did the men who crossed his family or offended his honour.

But he could never hurt you. At least, he told himself such things, because in some ways, when he looked at you – still a stranger to the scars of violence that riddled his own flesh – he could sometimes see a ghost of the girl who used to be his lover, who used to be the girl with the shy smile and the beguiled gaze.

His fingers travelled across his chest to his lips, as he uttered his final prayer. The incense of the chapel burned nearly as thick as the smoke of the cigarettes he used to worship. Before you had made him quit.

And what had he done for you? He had done everything. He had given you a marriage, when you had nothing to your name, had given you the finest silks and jewelry and had taken you on a perfect honeymoon to Italy where you had made love with his name chanting from your lips like a prayer. 

Luca twirled the toothpick in his teeth bitterly.

But in saving you, he had condemned himself. Even in the solace of this moment, he found himself craving your touch, however frigid it had grown. Found himself incomplete, numb.

He’d taken an interest in another broad recently – a maid, but beautiful, with a soft, heart-shaped face and gently curved hips that begged to be ruined.

But it sickened him to touch her.

Because she wasn’t you.

---

With Luca away, you had had time to pack your belongings – just the ones that you needed. All purely practical, except for a letter, its ink bleeding at the edges of its handwriting, the love draining from the words he’d once written you when away on business.

Though you knew you’d regret taking it, it had felt wrong to leave something that used to make you smile with so much joy.

You waited for the train in the dead of night, the wind your only companion as it howled through the archways of the station. But it was not enough to quell the fear in your gut or ease the weight that pressed harder against your suffocated chest with each passing second.

You stifled a sigh as a sharp whistle split the distant, foggy air. And you once again fought back tears that welled in your eyes.

And then the winds shifted, and the cedar and ambrette notes of his cologne stirred something in your chest. You shivered as the warmth of his body settled behind you, long fingers running down the sleeves of your arms. The weight lifted only slightly on your chest, and oxygen returned to starved lungs.

“I told you you weren’t leaving, amore mio.”

You shut your eyes, swallowing against the knot in your throat.

And you thought, with this weight no longer sinking into aching ribs,

I’m not gonna make it on my own.

Your luggage was dropped to the concrete as the train came chugging along, rearing its head of iron and steel from the mists.

His fingers laced through your own, squeezing gently at them, tugging wickedly at a frayed thread of your soul, and you reciprocated, remembering a time when you had worshipped this very hand.

When you turned, his hot breath was exchanged with yours, and the full scent of him washed over your tired bones in a bittersweet familiarity.

And when he kissed you, an ember sparked in your gut that only he had ever been able to ignite, and the heat that pooled in your core was not a desire but a need.

Iron spiked your tongue as you pulled apart, some wrath that still brewed inside you having drawn blood from his lip while your hand cupped his cheek in an almost reverence.

Absinthe eyes sank intensely into yours, and though you knew from that gaze that he wanted you dead, he also needed you just as much as you needed him.

“You were right,” you breathed, your voice a mere whimper against the noise of the train. “I can’t survive on my own.”

Locks of his dusky hair teased your scalp, and his thumb traced the flesh behind your ear soothingly. And you had no idea that, had you boarded that train, his men would’ve been ordered to gag you and deliver you screaming back to him. And though as your foreheads pressed together and your tears spilled from shuttered eyes, it did not banish the pain from the hole that split wider in a chest that bled as slowly as the ink of the letter.

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

TAGLIST: @eclecticwildflowers @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey

[da-rulah]

Can I get an angsty one with a side order of hella fluff? Where the reader is having an awful day because they keep getting assaulted with less than pleasant memories of the past.

I need my sweet rat man rn so bad 👊😔

If you aren’t comfy with this feel free to ignore. No pressure at all <333

Oh honey, I hope your day got better! Sending love, hugs and copius amounts of Copia 🖤

TW// Mentions of past trauma, angst, breakdowns

Anger was boiling up inside of you the more the day went on... It started as mere irritation, unable to get the negative mood you were in off your back. Then came the memories...

Memories you had buried for the longest time, stuffed inside an old trunk in your mind, padlocked shut and tossed into a flowing river. Except, it was washing up now. Slowly but surely, memories came back to haunt you.

You refused to let them make you feel sad, refused to give them the satisfaction - so you replaced it with anger, an emotion you felt you could control better. But no, the anger was brewing, spewing over into your day to day life.

Copia had heard whisperings that his amore was in the worst of moods today, siblings of sin warning others to steer clear where possible for fear of making it worse or being the person you took it out on. Not that you were usually feared, but people knew of a side to you that was darker, less forgiving. And they knew it came from a place of trauma, of pain and hurt.

You were none the wiser, going about your day and letting inanimate objects have it. Cupboard doors took a hit, chairs were shoved, papers thrown on desks and doors slammed shut. In fact, the door to your living quarters slamming shut is what alerted Copia to you returning home that evening.

"Amore?" he called out to you from the kitchen.

"What?" you snapped back. Copia didn't take it personally.

"I-I made you your favourite," he called back, a little nervous. You could smell the food he'd made wafting into the living space now. You sighed to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose. Sometimes you wish he'd give you a reason to get angry, give you an outlet to vent but he was too kind for that. He only ever tried to make it all better.

"I'm not hungry," you deadpanned, knowing you were going to disappoint him and doing it solely out of spite to try and get a rise out of him.

There was silence, until he walked into the living room with a plate of food for you still. "You should still try to eat a little, amore," he reasoned.

"Copia, for the love of Lucifer! I'M NOT HUNGRY!" you yelled, regretting it instantly as soon as you saw the hurt look on his face. You weren't being fair, you knew it. You were being cruel for the sake of being cruel. You were hurting him.

Tears welled in your eyes, the anger inside you evaporating at the look on his face. Immediately, the surface layer of anger and rage was pulled back, revealing the hurt and trauma behind the curtain. And you just broke.

You flopped onto the couch, sitting with your head hung low as sobs racked through your chest and tears stung your eyes. Everything hurt, every memory was coming back and it was all just so exhausting.

Copia laid the plate in his hand on the coffee table by the couch, and sat next to you, not hesitating to wrap his arm around your shoulders and draw you into him. The moment your cheek hit the material of his shirt, it dampened with tears, and your body fell limp against him.

Pretending all day had been the most exhausting part. But you didn't have to pretend anymore. "I...I don't... want these... memories anymore..." you sobbed into his chest. He just hugged you closer, kissing the top of your head and whispering sweet nothings into your ear with a gloved hand stroking your hair.

He sat with you for Lucifer knows how long, knowing you just needed to let it out. He'd be as patient as he needed to be.

When your sobs quietened and your breathing returned to an even rhythm, he lifted your head to check on you.

"I'm sorry..." you mumbled, embarrassed. But he just smiled at you sweetly, holding your chin up with his thumb.

"It falls on deaf ears, amore mio... You have no need for apologies, eh?" He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips for a moment, a perfect distraction.

"You're too good for me," you admit.

"No, cara... We are a perfect fit, I believe..."

He fed you bites of your favourite meal that evening, long since cold, but each bite made with the love he held for you.

You didn't believe in angels, but if you did? He'd certainly be one.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hey I would like to request a good omens Crowley x reader angsty sad fic where they are pining over him but he loves aziraphale and they don’t want to interfere. Kind of Laufey’s song Let You Break My Heart Again vibes. Thx!!❤️

"Why couldn't I have what THEY had, [y/n]?! Maybe it's...it's all part of God's great ineffable plan! As if fallin' weren't enough...y'know? Why not allow him to walk outta my life and crawl back to the other angelss, too? Keep fuckin' me over, I suppose. This must be karma, I swear.."

"Crowley.." You began, only to stop as the demon on the other end of the line continued his drunken sorrowful ramblings.

He was still clearly hurting, and you were his only company left.

The only one who knew about him and Aziraphale and everything they've done together for the past 6,000 years.

You've been around for a thousand or so, not aligned with Heaven nor Hell, but living as a simple immortal being.

However, only very recently have you learned that they've in fact known each other since the very dawn of Creation.

So their history goes way back.

It's no secret that Crowley's been pining after the angel all these years, forced to pretend he hates him just because he was on the "opposite side".

But he was sick of doing all of that, and finally got the courage to tell him how he really felt. He begged him to stay, to stop taking sides, and to think about just them for once.

In the end, Aziraphale still chose the side that shunned him for conspiring with a demon, halting Armageddon, and hiding Gabriel on Earth...all because he was offered a higher position of power and couldn't so easily let go of Heaven.

Not as easily as Crowley could. He couldn't understand that, or why Gabriel and Beelzebub could go off together and they couldn't.

Now you were here, having to comfort the very same demon that you've fallen in love with yourself.

It felt like such a selfish desire, knowing that you haven't lived nearly as long as either of them. You weren't there at the beginning of Everything. You weren't there at the Garden of Eden.

You could never fully understand their deep-rooted bond.

There's no way he would ever see you in a remotely similar light.

Even still, the heart wants what it wants..even if it's unobtainable.

"Listen, Crowley.." You tried speaking again. "I'm next in line, do you want anything?"

Perhaps that was rather poorly worded, as you heard a sniffle and what sounded like him holding back a sob. "I just want him to come back.." His voice broke.

There was that feeling again, constricting your human heart with pain.

It was such a fickle organ, you often thought. It kept people alive, yet when put through emotional toil..it felt like it was killing them, and they wanted nothing more than to rip it out of their chest to be rid of the pain.

But right in this moment, you felt like that because deep down...you wish he instead said that he wanted-

"W-Wait..you're..at that café 'cross the bookshop, right?" You heard Crowley mumble. "I'll get the usual..assuming she remembers. Actually...don't bother-"

"It's fine, Crow. It'll be my treat. I'm getting something, too...not that we actually need it. But we both enjoy it, right?"

"...right." He chuckled depressingly. "Fine. I'll be outside."

That was a surprise, although when you briefly glanced outside the window of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, you noticed the Bentley parked next to the sidewalk. You sighed, hanging up the phone before you stepped up to the register, smiling at Nina.

"Hello, Nina. I'll have my usual..and Mr. Crowley's, too. Six espresso shots, was it? And one of those [favorite flavor] pies, pretty please." You pointed to the menu.

"On it." She nodded, already getting to work on your order. "You know, I haven't seen that chap around in a while. How's he holding up? I heard he took it pretty hard."

"Yeah." You muttered, recalling how you've talked to her about your own feelings for Crowley.

You weren't expecting a human to solve the relationship woes of immortal beings when she herself was going through her own issues.

She worried that her and Maggie's little "intervention" caused the demon and angel to split up, but you didn't blame her. And neither did Crowley, although he was torn between wishing he didn't kiss Aziraphale and wondering if he'd regret not doing that at all.

He hasn't been back at the coffee shop since.

"Well, do you plan to tell him anytime soon?"

You nearly choked on your own spit. "N-Nina...I..I can't just do that. He clearly doesn't see me that way. He talks about him every day and night. I've stayed up past midnight consoling him, letting him stay with me the moment I learned he's sleeping outta his car. But...it's him he loves, not me. And I can't interfere with that..it would be wrong."

"Then...what's your plan from here?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"..I'm not sure anymore. I guess hope that one day..I'll stop falling in love with him. Maybe his angel will come back and everything will be as it was."

"Sounds like wishful thinking at this point, but I'm sure things will work out. Maybe he'll move on."

"I doubt it, but time will tell."

"Right." After finishing the drinks, she set them down into a cupholder, before giving you the pie as well. You paid and bid her farewell before heading out of the café and to the Bentley.

Inside, you saw Crowley sulking, lost in thought until you knocked on the passenger's window. He sat up with a start, fixing his glasses when he realized it was you. "S-Sorry."

The door opened, and you slid inside, passing him the tall cup with tons of espresso shots. "It's okay. So..where did you wanna go today?"

"I was thinkin'..St. James Park. Feel like I've been neglecting the ducks for far too long."

You blinked. 'Wasn't that..his and Aziraphale's thing-?'

"Yeah, I know..it...was our thing." He responded as though he read your mind. "'s just..been so lonely without him to chatter to. I hate siting all alone on that bench. But it's not like I can just walk Upstairs and tell him to screw all of them, right?"

"Sadly..no." Shaking your head, you glanced over your shoulder at the plants he's shoved into his backseat. Closest to you was a venus fly trap that had spots and other flaws, looking rather frail and wilted and sad.

Not too different from how its owner felt.

You smiled sadly and stroked the top of its head with your thumb, feeling it cease its trembles. Its mouth closed as it seemed to...purr?

How cute.

"Well would ya look at that...ya even treat the bloody things the same as he did.."

You tensed, looking back to Crowley and frowning upon seeing the tears sliding down his cheeks. But he was quick to wipe them away once you noticed them, yet a sniffle still managed to escape him.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep doing stuff that reminds you of him.." You set a hand on his back. "Do you...want me to drive?"

"No, it's fine.." He shook his head, sniffling loudly one last time before he managed to pull himself together. "Let's just..go."

You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee and a small bite of your pie, before you reached for the radio-

However, you forgot that the Bentley was sentient, instead turning it on for you and playing a song that nearly made you choke once again.

"--All I've had is coffee and leftover pie. It's no wonder why. Ooooh, still you take up all my mind. I don't even think that you care like I do. I should stop, Heaven knows I've tried..."

Even Crowley froze as he listened to the lyrics.

And not because it wasn't a Queen song.

"One day, I will stop falling in love with you."

Neither of you spoke a word, instead staring at the dashboard with looks of sadness upon your faces. You thought he would've changed the song by now, but...when you looked over, you could see his glasses now resting on the bridge of his nose.

His golden irises have almost completely taken over the whites of his eyes.

What little you saw of them..

Were growing redder and glossier.

"Some day, someone will like me like I like you."

You felt your own eyes start to sting, too, so you looked away and opted to pet the venus fly trap that was nuzzling your hand, clearly asking for more much-needed affection.

Sentient plants were easy to comfort.

If only your demon friend could be the same way..

If only you could show him that you wished to be more than just friends..but this simply wasn't your place to tell him that.

Not here, not now...and possibly not ever. For as long as you lived on this mortal plane.

All you could hope was that one day, the feeling will pass.

If Aziraphale came back, things might be better. You wished the idiot would at least check in with you both once in a while so you knew he was alive.

If that's the last time you hear from him, well....you weren't sure if Crowley would ever want to try loving again after what he's suffered through. He poured his heart out, only for it to get broken and stomped on before being left all alone on Earth.

He couldn't go through that again.

And you didn't wanna say anything about how you felt for the centuries you've known him. He could very well perceive that as you trying to replace him and ruin this friendship.

The wounds in his heart are still clearly fresh..and they likely will be for a long, long time.

For now, you'll just be by his side and be mindful. Perhaps he'll eventually realize how you felt about him...but you doubt it.

"Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie. Pretend we are more than friends. Then of course, I'll let you break my heart again-"

Crowley's hand suddenly shot towards the button, the car filling with an abrupt silence as he shut off the music. Then he switched between several Queen songs, eyebrows furrowed as none of them seemed to suit his current mood.

If Queen didn't make him happy anymore...he was seriously in emotional distraught.

But eventually he settled for "Somebody to Love", and you smiled, wiping your eyes as you leaned back in the seat. "Good choice."

He nodded absentmindedly, before finally driving off to the park after adjusting his glasses.

No further words were exchanged. You didn't even scold him for speeding down the tightly-knitted roads of London. That's the last thing he needed right now.

Especially since you picked up that habit from Aziraphale.

But even as Freddie's voice reverberated through the Bentley, you two couldn't stop thinking about the lyrics of Laufey's song and what it meant to both of you.

Yet the people it reminded you of...were completely different.