#MY FINGERS ARE BROKEN ITS SO WORTH IT GUYS

[littlerosei]

I DID ITT its only like 1 min but I DID ITT who wouldve thunk my first ever animatic would be two gay angsty monkeys frfr

This is for the LOVELY @artepti AND THEIR LOVELY SUPER DUPER COOL LLR AU

Tbh its not finished, i have some ideas for the ending but time sadly isnt on my side atm but who knows i may or may not finish it on the weekends hhhh

I still have other animatics planned in the future and hopefully if i have the motivation and time to do so, those could finish faster than this teehee hope u guys like it!!

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiii how are you? Could i please request a jealousy fic with jason and dick, like how would they react? What would they do about it? I'm sorry its reallyyy cliche, but i love it anyway💕

Hi anon! I’ve been fine, been taking lots of power naps whenever I can, especially after work, but I’ve fine.

Jason’s jealously more or less comes from a place of insecurity.

He fears that one interaction with the right guy/ girl/ whomever would be enough to make you see that there were better options out there than him.

He never doubts your loyalty to him, never. He wasn’t that pathetic. He just didn’t trust everyone else that even looked at you in the same light as he did on the daily, and it was extremely evident when Jason didn’t like the looks of someone; Furrowed brows over narrowed judging eyes, his form practically towering over you protectively as he stares down the person whom he believes might take you from him.

His protectiveness tends to spike up periodically the moment he see the person get a little too close for comfort and he would clench his jaw to prevent himself from saying something he might regret later on; Jason tries to restrain himself for your sake but it was blatantly obvious that he was on the brink of exploding.

So when you both got home Jason didn’t waste any time in letting you know how he felt during the entire interaction after having forced himself to hold his own tongue.

‘Did you find that person attractive?’ He’d ask.

‘No.’ you said. ‘were you jealous?’

‘I thought me staring down the poor bastard was evident enough.’ Jason scoffs and you hugged his waist all the while pressing reassuring kisses at the base of his neck, when his hands reached to hold yours and intertwine your fingers together.

‘I know that you know I love you very much, no one else catches my eye when I have you,’ you reassured as you pressed another kiss to his neck, ‘my beautiful boy, my beautiful jay birdie.’ You added in a whisper as Jason felt the last remnants of jealously fade away into the background with every kiss you gave him.

‘Are you sure you can see yourself being with me? long term I mean.’ He then says as he squeezed your hands in his search of comfort from you and it broke your heart when he didn’t see himself the way you did, but you were more then willing to kiss and cuddle away his troubles if it meant reminding him of his worth.

‘Without question.’ You confidently told him, squeezing his hands. ‘I don’t see myself with anyone else but you because even though you may not think it, you are more then enough and you are not broken, to me you are whole and you are perfect.’ You finished by pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades and resting your head there as you focused on his breathing.

‘Can…can we just forget about all this and just cuddle like any other cliche couples do?’ Jason asked, finding himself feeling a lot better upon hearing you laugh against his back as a smile crossed his face.

‘Sure big guy.’ You replied. ‘We can go cuddle now.’

And with that Jason was quick to pick you up in his arms and carry you off towards the bedroom where you inevitably feel asleep in the other’s arms, happy and content.

Dick wasn’t one to speak up on his emotions much, which was something that he knew he could better work on for the sake of your relationship with him.

He’s seen himself in the mirror. He knows his own appeal very well but physical appearance were secondary to you as it was his personality that won you over in the end. However he knew that beauty was subjective and that one day you might come across someone more physically appealing than him.

He’d act as though nothing was wrong but if you could easily tell something was off by just his stance alone, crossed arms over chest and a look in his eyes, as though he was trying to deduce the person you were trying to have a civil conversation with.

He may stand close to you and put a hand on your waist or throw an arm over your shoulders, pull you into his side and press a kiss to your forehead with a smile plastered across his face, but he wouldn’t say a word in hopes that would be enough to get across to the person that you were very much taken.

Upon arriving home however, Dick acts he wasn’t even remotely jealous to begin with, despite the glaring fact that he very much was.

‘Me? Jealous?’ He asks incredulously but upon seeing your face, he knew that this act of his had long since stopped working the moment you grew the ability to read him.

‘Yes, you were and you weren’t even trying to make it discreet at all.’ You told him as you settled aside your things on the kitchen counter and sighed. ‘I just wish you would talk to me about these things so that we could get this together like couples should.’

Dick frowned as he moved next to you and gently took your hand in his own, caressing it. ‘I know and I’m sorry that I haven’t been more open and honest with you it’s just-‘

‘You find it difficult to do so I know.’ You cut him off, looking him in the eyes. ‘I don’t blame you for that and I never would, you know that but I just wished that you trust me more to speak to me about these things.’ You tell him as you squeezed his hand. ‘I only want to help you.’

Dick kisses your forehead. ‘I know you do and I appreciate it very much.’ He whispered against your skin. ‘I just don’t know what you see in me sometimes, nor do I understand how you could have possibly put up with me as long as you have given how closed off I can be sometimes.’ He adds as he pulls away, his heart weighing heavily in his chest as he awaits your response.

‘I stay with you because I love you stupid.’ You said softly as you bumped his shoulder with your own. ‘And maybe because Hayley is too cute a pup to ever leave.’

‘I had a feeling Hayley was a major factor in you staying.’ Dick laughed. ‘Can’t say I blame you though, she is indeed very cute.’ He adds as he looks over at the staffy, who was very much fast asleep in her little bed in the living room before looking back to you with gentle eyes. ‘But I’m glad that you did stay. I love you too, dummy.’ He utters softly as he nudged you with his shoulder, vowing to himself to do better by you from this day forth.

[ha-rinrin]

Holding On

WARNING: This definitely counts as spoiler for act 3.

Summary: Jinx thinks she too far gone, but you think exactly the opposite.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

Wordcount: 829

Authors note: I decided to cope with writing so I'm back guys :)

masterlist

The air was thick with tension, the faint hum of the explosives making everything feel heavier. Jinx stood in the center of the room, her body trembling with the weight of her thoughts. The bomb was in her hands—its cruel, ticking countdown echoing through her head, matching the frantic pace of her heartbeat.

She looked at the device, her eyes wild with something darker than madness. Her fingers were just inches away from pulling the trigger. The detonator. The end. She could feel it. The destruction. The chaos.

But there was something else too. Something so faint, you almost missed it—a desperation that even Jinx couldn't hide.

You didn’t know how you got here, only that you had to get to her before it was too late. Your heart pounded in your chest as you rushed into the room, your eyes locking onto her figure.

"Jinx!" you called, your voice strong, breaking through the sound of the countdown. She didn't look up. Not at first.

"Don't even think about it," you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the tense silence that had surrounded her. You knew you were running out of time.

Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with something you couldn't read, a whirlwind of anger, pain, and confusion. The bomb was still in her hands, her fingers trembling, but she didn’t move.

"You think you can stop me?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, raw. "You think I care?"

You took a step closer, your hands raised in a gesture of caution, but your resolve was unwavering. "I care, Jinx. I care more than you know. But this… this isn't you."

Her lips curled into a bitter smile, but her eyes betrayed her. They were glassy, unfocused. "Who else am I supposed to be, huh?" The words were jagged, broken, just like her. "I’ve lost everyone. I don’t even know who I am anymore."

"You're Jinx," you said, your voice softening as you took another step forward. "You're the girl I… I can’t lose, not like this." You swallowed, your heart aching with every word you spoke. "Please, put the bomb down."

For a long moment, she just stood there, her face unreadable, as though trying to make sense of the chaos in her mind. Then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, but you heard it clearly.

"You’ve been the best girlfriend… the best person in my life. You know that, right?" Her hand trembled, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes didn’t meet yours as she spoke, but you could see the hint of something breaking in her gaze. "I’m sorry… but I don't think I can keep going like this. I don't know how much more of me you can take."

"Jinx, no…" you breathed, stepping closer, your heart pounding as the weight of her words hit you.

"You deserve someone who can be whole," she continued, her voice cracking, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "You deserve someone who can… stay. I don’t even know who I am anymore. But you—" She stopped, shaking her head, a faint laugh escaping her lips, bitter and broken. "You were everything. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"Don’t you dare," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not like this."

Her hand tightened on the detonator again, her fingers almost convulsing, but she was silent, the look in her eyes telling you more than any words could.

You couldn’t let her go, not like this.

“Please, Jinx,” you whispered desperately, your voice barely audible. "I need you. I love you. I can’t lose you. You don’t have to do this. You’re worth so much more than all of this. We’ll figure it out together. Please."

She looked at you then, her lips trembling, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. The bomb in her hand felt like nothing compared to the weight of the emotion that filled the room. She slowly lowered the detonator, her hands shaking as she clutched it loosely, a faint tremble passing through her.

"I'm too far gone," she said, barely above a whisper, her voice breaking. "But maybe... maybe I still have something left. I can't leave you alone"

You reached for her then, slowly, gently. She didn't flinch as you took her hand in yours, her fingers cold but now gripping you back, even if just a little.

"I can't let you go," you said softly, your voice trembling but firm. "Please... don't leave me like this."

For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself lean against you, her body trembling. The bomb was still in her hand, but she wasn’t holding onto it anymore.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

And for once, there was no chaos. Just the fragile thread of connection between you, something both of you clung to as if it could mend the broken pieces. "You deserve everything," you murmured, your voice steady and sure. "And I’ll be here to remind you of that, every step of the way."

[libraryofloveletters]

The Same Shade Of Red

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: monza 2020 (double dnf for the boys in red), so much angst sorry, redbull comparisons for seb, the magic that is monza, the disaster that is ferrari and their team, talks of seb's races in monza, a few harsh/sad thoughts from seb, mentions of retirement, charles's crash in monza 2020, mentions of the pandemic, reader is the most loving wife to which seb is her perfect match, britta is sooo over you guys after years of this.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: would I be me if I didn't take monza race weekend and turn it into an ode to seb? no. ferrari seb you will always be my most beloved and fuck you ferrari for hurting my husband fr. (also this gif is so sexy I can't explain it. well I can but I will be banned from tumblr dot com)

---

Monza held a special place in the heart of your husband, in yours and in anyone that was a part of the Vettel family.

Sebastian had proven his worth, winning his and Toro Rosso's first ever Grand Prix in Monza during the 2008 season.

It was no different when he moved to Red Bull from Toro Rosso, his era of dominance brought him win after win and two of which were in Monza; the home of Ferrari.

Ever since that first win, Sebastian held a special love for Monza, as did you. There's something magical about the place; it might be the atmosphere or the fans but it has always been good to you and Seb. Whatever it was, it was nothing if not remarkable every single time.

The Tifosi held their drivers to the highest of standards, some would say next to God. Something happens to Italy when motorsport comes to town; everything changes and every single person you meet is so passionate. They live and breathe for Ferrari, they'd die for their drivers if it meant they could see them on that top step.

When Sebastian moved from Red Bull to Ferrari, he counted down the days to Monza.

It had always been his dream to drive with the red team, just as his childhood hero and friend, Michael, had done. Sebastian's first year with Ferrari was the epitome of picture perfect.

Despite coming in P2 behind Lewis and Mercedes, being on the podium at home for Ferrari meant everything to the German driver. This wasn't the first time he had gotten on podium for Ferrari, in fact he had already won twice with them that season; in Malaysia and then again in Hungary.

Monza was different; magical, special. There was something in the air, the energy was indescribable. Sebastian grinned, waving to the team from the second step.

You smiled, watching as your fiancé at the time hummed along to the Italian anthem, a country he quickly counted as his second home.

Sebastian was the king of the world that day, even though he hadn't won.

He had returned to the garage with the biggest grin on his face, trophy in one hand and the bottle of champagne in the other. He passed them over to his engineer, making a beeline for you. The man's covered in champagne and sweat and confetti, and he smells like gasoline and engine oil but he picks you up, squeezing you tightly.

You remember telling him how much you loved him and how proud of him you were. Sebastian responded with a kiss, you can taste the champagne; a familiar taste that slowly became more scarce as his days with Ferrari went on.

Unfortunately, things took a bit of a downwards dip for Sebastian after that. He was hungry to win, he was constantly in a fight for the championship every year and it was killing him that he wasn't there yet. Yes, he had won races with them and broken every record he could possibly break but if he couldn't achieve the one thing he really set out to do, the one thing he had always dreamt about, then what was the point?

Monza seemed to always have Sebastian in its grasp, tricking him as the years went on. He almost always was there, he could reach out and touch the win and yet, it slipped through his fingers. Winning in Monza meant more to a Ferrari driver than winning in Monaco would - unless you were born and raised there like Sebastian's teammate, Charles.

You were the king of the world if you won there; your name written in the history books from now until the end of time.

Sebastian longed for his name to be in the book of the greats; Sebastian Vettel, Monza race winner.

A dream that slipped through his fingers as did his hope of winning the championship with Ferrari.

After coming in P2 in 2015, things just kept getting further and further from the finish line for him. P3 in 2016 and 2017, P4 in 2018 and last year was the final shove before the cherry on top this year; P13 while his new teammate, Charles, stood on the top step as race winner, basking in the magic that is Monza.

He was happy for him, beyond happy actually and any win for the team was great but oh how he wished that was him.

Now you're back in Monza, the season had been delayed due to the pandemic and this was the first race you had been able to join him for all season. It was weird being there with the track empty; just the teams and the occasional celebrity guest that was rich enough to pay their way in.

The car has been giving Sebastian a hard time all weekend, practice was shit and he placed P17 in qualifying. It wasn't a good weekend for your husband.

"Be good," you told him while he was getting ready for the race. Sebastian nods, a witty remark about him always being a good boy slipped past his lips and you waved him off, your cheeks red as you walked back to the garage.

Watching him start from the back of the grid was breaking your heart, you knew he could manage much more than that but it's the stupid car that was giving him trouble.

He barely got a grip on the car before he drove off and into the blocks that were in the run off area. Your brows furrowed as you watched him speed through the blocks, his voice coming through the headphone - "brakes failed."

Your heart drops, eyes fixed on the screen as Seb pulls the car into the corner as best as he can without disrupting the race. He finds his way back to the garage after the marshals come for his car, Sebastian gives your hand a squeeze as he passes through and into the back hallway to his driver's room. You figured you'd give him space to cool off and you stayed in the garage to watch a bit more of the race.

It was barely 20 laps later that you saw the other Ferrari slide into the wall. To no fault of Charles, the car had understeer which caused him to lose the back half and send him into the wall. You stood there, waiting to hear if Charles spoke before you took your headphones off.

Once you hear that he's okay, you step out of the garage and make your way to your husband's driver room. You knock on the door, peeking in before he answers.

Sebastian gives you a sad smile, you can feel your heart breaking as you step in and shut the door behind you. He's sitting on the bench and you walk over, joining him.

"Charles is coming in."

"What? The race isn't over, is it?" Sebastian looks over at you before glancing out the window. You shook your head, "it's a red flag now, Charles' car has understeer, went into the wall."

"Is he okay?" He asks and you nod, "he's a little shaken up but he'll be okay."

Your hand finds your husband's, interlocking fingers. "I always admire that even when you're going through it, you still look out for others."

"I know what it's like to be in his position, it's tough."

You hum, glancing down at the racing boots that were tossed to the side, Seb's sock clad feet slide back and forth over the floor. "You know what happened today wasn't your fault, Sebastian. It was mechanical."

He's quiet for a bit, nodding at your words. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, baby."

You look over at the man, "of Ferrari or of racing?"

"Both," he answers truthfully.

Sebastian and Ferrari had come to a mutual agreement - a publicity term - that they would not be renewing his contract. You weren't opposed to it, you knew it was killing your husband to go but if Sebastian was good at one thing, it was that he knew when it was time to go, he had to go. He wanted to win with them, you think a part of him still held a tiny sliver of hope that he would find his way back to the top step as champion of the world but he also knew being there was killing him.

Mentally, physically, emotionally; he couldn't bear the pressure of staying there any longer.

"It's just a few more races, love. You can do it."

He nods, "I know but.." "Don't even go there," you tell him, shifting to face him. One of your legs hanging off the bench as the other folded in front of you.

"Monza's special, you know that." He says, "I just.. I feel like I failed." He sighs, his head hung and if your heart wasn't already broken, it was broken now.

It was days like today that made you hate the team that your husband so dearly loved.

"You didn't fail, you never failed them, Sebastian." You squeezed his hand, the man looked up at you. Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, your thumb rubbing over the few days old stubble on his cheek. "If anything, they failed you."

"You have the talent and the skill, and the drive to win and to be a champion; it's them, babe. They couldn't give you a car that was worthy of you, you can't blame yourself for that." You look at your husband and the man sighs again.

"I should have been able to, though. Been able to get the best out of the car."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Seb, c'mon. Be for real right now, it's their shitty ass car, it's not your fault. You know Lewis's car is basically a rocket ship, plus it's not like your strategies are A1 over here."

Seb tosses you a glance, a look of disapproval on his face. "You're so not helping right now, darling."

You raise your hands in surrender and your husband smiles - his first genuine smile all weekend. You smile back, holding his face again. "I love you, Sebastian."

"I know," he grins and you shake your head, laughing. "This is usually the point where you say I love you back."

"Oh, sorry." he chuckled, "I love you, y/n."

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss. "Good, now come on. You need to get dressed, go check on your teammate," you patted his thigh, getting up to find a shirt for the man. In the meantime, Seb pulled off his race suit and fire proofs, slipping on a pair of shorts.

"Do I really have to go?" He sits on the bench again, shifting to lay down, his arms tucked behind his head. You roll your eyes, looking through the small cabinet off to the side. "Yes, you know they'll make you out to be a villain if you don't."

"And if I wanna be a villain ?" He asks, looking over at you.

You sigh, tossing the shirt at him, "Sebastian, don't start with me right now."

The man laughs, dropping the shirt on the bench before standing up. Sebastian grabs your hand, pulling you flush against his chest. "Ew," you fake a gag, "you're sweaty."

He smiles, ignoring your comment. "I don't know what I'd do without you, I can't thank you enough for being here for me all these years."

Your hand rests on his jaw, giving him a kiss before smiling at him. "You don't need to thank me, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat but.. if you do wanna thank me, you can buy that purse I liked."

"Show me when we get back, you can take my card and order it."

"I was joking," you look at him, and Seb shrugs. "It's the least I can do to thank you for being the perfect wife."

"It's easy to do when I have the perfect husband," you smile, kissing him again. There's a knock on the door, causing you both to look in the direction of it.

"When the two of you are done being perfect, you're needed for press, Sebastian." Britt's voice from the other side of the door, making you both laugh.

Seb gives you one last kiss before grabbing his shirt, "I'm coming!" He calls to her, pulling it on. He was on his way out but you stopped him, grabbing his hand.

He turns back, looking at you as he waits to see what you wanted. "I'm proud of you, no matter what," you tell him.

Seb nods, smiling at you. "I love you."

---

taglist: @dragon-of-winterfell @benedictscanvas @elisaa-shelby @hnmaga-blog @czechoslovakiandisco @dr3lover @troybolton14 @Lovingroscoee @compulsiveshit @somanyfandomsbruh @damnyoulifee @barzysreputation @vickyofalltrades @yeolsbubbles @barzysreputation @thybulleric @valkyrie418 @ricsaigaslec @idkiwantchocolatee @sessgjarg @molliemoo3 @bisexual-desi @sunf1owerrq @alwaysclassyeagle @coldmuffinbanditshoe @sillybananamaker and @oconso cause she was fucking with the preview I sent her

[philokaliist]

HIII CAN YOU PLS DO ANOTHER CLARISSE X FEM READER FIC? Clarisse brainrot rn. Okay so imagine like she sees ur bf cheating and she tells u but u knew but stayed w him bc u thought nobody else would want u and u loved him BUT SHE WANTSBU WJSJSSJ AND LIKE ITS SO CUTE IDK I HOPE THIS IS CLEAR I LOVE UR FICS SM!! TY IF U DO THIS REQUESTTT 😭

'Promises'

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

A/N:Hi lovely!Tysm for requesting!!Yes I can try!I haven't written anything similar to this yet but I'll do my best! <3

Clarisse sees your boyfriend cheat on you - and she tells you,but you knew - and somehow it ends up with you two kissing.

As you sat beneath a tree,enjoying the peace and quiet of the rather reserved area you were in - which was relatively empty at that moment,for Clarisse it was a whole another story,as she observed from a distance.She saw your boyfriend this morning,his actions betraying the trust you had bestowed upon him.Silently, she approached, her presence unnoticed but her fury visible.

Clarisse cleared her throat, and you turned to face her.

"Hey.I saw something." she said, her tone unusually calm. "Your boyfriend...well,soon to be ex,he's cheatin' on you."

She was trying her hardest to not cuss the hell out of the guy right now.

Your heart sank, but you managed a weak smile, feigning ignorance. "What? No, that can't be true."

Clarisse grumbled, her eyes sharp. "I saw it,you know? and I sure as hell ain't blind.You deserved to know."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you just couldn't hold back the pain any longer. "I knew," you confessed,looking down. "I just couldn't bring myself to face it. I love him, and I don't think anyone else would want me."

Clarisse was genuinely surprised by this as she spoke "How can you love him when he treats you like you don't even exist?Why settle for someone who doesn't appreciate you?" she said, her gaze unwavering.

You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I just... I don't know if I can let go. I love him too much."

Clarisse, though still pissed off - couldn't fathom why you'd subject yourself to this and take so much pain. "What if someone does want you?" she questioned.

Your response was a broken whisper, "No one would want me. I'm not worth it - and I guess he just proved it by cheating that I wasn't enough to satisfy him so..."

Frustration crossed Clarisse's face as she stepped closer, her hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "What if I want you?" she asked, her voice low.

You looked up, disbelief in your eyes as you struggled to process what she just said. "But...I'm just...I don't know..I'm just me.I'm not special."

Clarisse's patience wore thin. "Enough with the self-pity. You're worth more than you think."

But as you continued to express your uncertainty,Clarisse,unable to tolerate it any longer,pressed her lips against yours. The kiss was unexpected, yet surprisingly comforting.It held a mixture of understanding and a promise of something more.

Breaking the kiss, Clarisse looked into your eyes,wiping your tears away with her thumb "Don't sell yourself short,pretty girl.You deserve more than an asshole who cheats on you.You're worth more than you think, and I'll be damned if I'm letting you settle for less,because get this through your pretty little head - never and I mean never will I do that.Besides,I'll never cheat on you.." she spoke as she continued to gently cup your cheek as her fingers caressed it gently,and you knew she was was sincere.This wasn't just any random thing she just said like that - as many of her random ramblings were - it was a promise,and everyone knows Clarisse La Rue always keeps her promises.

[stormhearty]

Pairings: Former Rhysand x Reader, Feysand, Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Triggers: mentions of depression, relapse, attempts at suicide

Summary: It has been two decades since you left Night Court, leaving the life you had always known. It had been five years since you were in Dawn Court, slowly healing with the help of its High Lord. Now, you had resided in Summer Court, Tarquin by your side through your healing process. But when a mating bond snaps between the two of you when your health turns for the worse, how would you process something that you never thought would happen in your immortal life? And when you decide to confront your former family, would you forgive them for their past discretions? The story of the aftermath of your broken heart of glass.

Note: From this request! Thank you so much for wanting a second part to “Breaking Like Glass”!! I love that everyone enjoyed that fic’s immense angst, so I will gladly give you guys the fluff, romance, and healing the reader needs. And I do hope this isn’t cheesy. I struggled a bit on writing this, whether to debate to make it angsty, but I feel like, it has enough of the balance. Please do enjoy!

Breaking Like Glass | Masterlist

“You know, my stardust, you don't have to do this… We can have our mating ceremony with our family. We don't have to invite Night Court…”

You let out a thoughtful hum as you lounged in one of the lounging chairs in Tarquin’s office, book in hand. You placed a finger on your page before looking over your shoulder at the High Lord of Summer, who looked at you with concern etched on his beautiful features.

After centuries of being with Rhysand, you had always thought that you would be content in not finding your mate. You had thought, and wished, that you would have eternity with the High Lord of Night Court. However, with the fiasco two decades ago, all you wanted to do was heal — fix your broken heart and mind from your torture from Under the Mountain, to fix your broken soul from being ripped apart by your family. You did not want to fall in love — you didn’t want to give your taped-up heart to someone and be worried about having it torn apart again.

You had safe-guarded your heart behind high, metal walls with a fog of darkness to protect it — to protect you from breaking all over again, and losing yourself once more.

But what you had never dreamed of was a mating bond to snap.

And you never thought it would be with another High Lord.

The very moment you had stepped into Summer soil, Tarquin had been nothing but kind and gentle, helping you through your decade of healing. He allowed you to take your time — he allowed you to wallow, he allowed you to be silent, he allowed you to grieve, something that you never were able to do while you were in Valeris. He allowed you to cry in anguish, he allowed you to cry in pain — he allowed the forty-nine years of suffering to seep out of your aching body. And he was silently there, beside you, watching over you… to ensure you were safe and well cared for while you did.

And that was all you could have wished for while you were healing. You didn’t need words, you didn’t need condolences… Tarquin allowed you to heal in the way that your heart and mind needed.

All the while Tarquin healed your broken soul that came upon the betrayal from Night Court, you would be sent back to Dawn Court to mend your mind and body from the tortures of the Attor. The two High Lords worked in tandem with one another… all for you. Both Tarquin and Thesan realized your worth, both realized your importance and believed it was worth their power and time to heal you.

It had been five years since you came from Dawn Court when the mating bond snapped between you and Tarquin.

It was when your nightmares had resurrected themselves from the grave, haunting you thoroughly to the point you had relapsed back from your progress.

You had screamed and clawed against everything that had neared you, your eyes frantic at the absolute fear and dread of returning to that moment in your life — the pain of the Attor and betrayal of your husband, that still lurked in the darkness of your fear. You had hurt yourself, multiple times during that relapse — skin broken with knives, daggers, broken glass — anything that your hands got to… hoping for the pain to seep out of your skin.

But Tarquin was there through all of that — grabbing and hiding everything that you could try to hurt yourself with. He fought tooth and nail to get to you, whispering sweet nothings — that you were worth it, you were worth the pain and anguish, that you were worth everything. And that you would get through the pain — and that he’d be right beside you through it.

You couldn’t feel it, the glow of the mating bond between the two of you — for you were too shrouded in your fear to notice.

All the while, Tarquin felt every emotion you had felt — the despair, the anguish, the pain that wracked your body. He fought back all the tears as he held you against him, pouring as much care and love through the newly found bond.

The relapse had taken an immense hit on your health — you were sick for weeks on end, going in and out of consciousness barely able to make out who had been taking care of you.

When you had been well enough, you had learned that Tarquin, himself, had been the one to care for you during your illness. And you, though you shouldn’t have been, was surprised at that fact. The High Lord of Summer Court took time away from his busy schedule to tend to you. He had owed you nothing… and yet he had taken time to care for you.

“Why did you do that…?” you had asked, storming into his office, pausing mid-step when you had seen Thesan and the Captain in the room. It seemed that you had interrupted an important meeting between the two High Lords — possibly about your condition.

Tarquin looked at you for a moment, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he looked at Thesan and gave him an apologetic nod of his head. Thesan glanced between the two of you before standing up from his seat on the plush couch and heading your way. The High Lord of Dawn smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss onto the crown of your head, “Hello, my child… be nice to him…”

The request was confusing to you as you allowed the High Lord and Captain to step out of the room, the click of the door resonating behind you — leaving you and Tarquin alone in that grand room. The atmosphere grew awkward and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip, you glanced everywhere besides the High Lord, and you heard him let out a chuckle.

You frowned, glaring at him slightly before watching him stand up and walk towards you, reaching out a hand for you to hold, “We have much to talk about, (Y/N)…” he murmured.

You stared at his hand, sighing softly before reaching over to place you had on top of his. His had always radiated warmth that you seemed to want to grasp onto often — it was warm and inviting, much like the summer sun he had ruled over. You followed him further into his office, walking past his desk and onto the large balcony overviewing his Court. There was a large settee that Tarquin led you to, sitting you down before he sat next to you, leaving a gap between both of you.

“Now… What was it you were saying, (Y/N)? About why I did that?” he questioned, turquoise hues staring at the massive land of his Court, allowing the summer breeze to greet the two of you.

Relaxing against the settee, you remained quiet for a few moments, eyes fluttering close at the breeze that tickled your skin. When you opened your eyes once more and turned your attention to the High Lord, you were slightly startled when you noticed he was staring at you — something in his eyes sparkling that you were unsure of… or slightly denied.

“…Why did you take care of me when I was ill?” you asked him, not bothering to beat around the bush, “You didn’t owe me anything, this… arrangement between us is only until I get better and can move on from my nightmares—”

“When did I say that this… arrangement is only until you get better?” he interrupted you with a raised brow, “I did not say anything like that. I am allowing you to stay until you want to leave… I’m giving you the choice to stay and to heal the way you need, unlike your time in Night Court. And, I took care of you because I wanted to, (Y/N). I couldn’t let you hurt yourself like you did, to be so haunted by your nightmares every waking second… I couldn’t let you suffer the way Rhysand let you for all those months…”

You flinched at the name of your former husband. It still ached — no matter how long it had been, it still ached hearing his name. Usually, Tarquin and Thesan avoided saying his name around you, both afraid of a possible relapse. You let out a shaky breath, as your eyes stared at something beyond him, a distant stare — feeling yourself move out of your body, a sensation that had started to become normal for you ever since you were in Dawn Court.

Feeling Tarquin’s warmth again, you blinked twice before focusing on him again a small smile tugged on your lips, and shook your head, “…I’m fine…” you whispered, head tilting down to look at your intertwined hands. You took deep breaths, something that Thesan had taught you after your moments of distance.

Tug, tug… you felt something in your chest. Your head tilted in confusion until you felt it again — tug, tug… You lifted your head and looked at the High Lord once more. You saw a twinkle in those turquoise hues, a hopeful look hidden within those depths.

“…What…” you muttered in disbelief, and you felt another tug in your chest.

“You felt it, did you not, (Y/N)?” Tarquin questioned, leaning forward slightly, warm hands gently gripping yours — as if preventing you from running away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head, too scared for any words to escape you.

How could a mating bond happen? After everything that happened to you, your mind and body were broken, being held together by pieces of tape held together by Tarquin and Thesan — you could barely hold yourself together. Your healing process for the past fifteen years was slow, and there were many times when you believed you would never be okay again. How can someone like you be mated to another High Lord? How can someone as broken as you be another leader of a Court?

Thoughts of insecurities passed through your mind, unknowingly sending them down the newly formed bond. You were startled out of your thought by Tarquin’s hand gently caressing your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“You do not have to accept the mating bond, as of yet, (Y/N)… I will wait, you can heal. Just know that I accept you, even if you are broken and torn. You still have years of healing to do, but I will be by your side — always.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as he shifted closer, pressing his hands on your cheeks to wipe them away. All you can do is nod. Allowing the love and warmth of the bond to slowly heal you.

It had been another five years since then. A little over two decades after you left Night Court to accept the bond. For five years, Tarquin had courted you, cared for you… loved you the way you needed. He did not force anything onto you and allowed you to fall in love with him in such a natural way that it felt second nature to you.

“…(Y/N)…” your mate called out to you, snapping out of your trance.

You blinked and refocused on the present, eyes focusing on Tarquin who had moved from his spot at his desk to you, hands rubbing your shoulders. Tilting your head back, you gave him a smile, reaching up with your free hand to reach up to run your fingers against his cheek as he looked down at you.

“No… I would like to invite them. I think… I need closure from my time there. And…” there was hesitance in your voice at the next words, “I do miss them. I lived with them for centuries, and all of a sudden I cut them off my life for a good reason… there are times when I missed them.”

Tarquin hummed understandingly as he squeezed your shoulders, “Understandable. We will invite them… But I worry—-”

“—- I won’t relapse. I promise…” you moved from your lounging position to sitting up, shifting so you were on your knees, at eye level with him. You felt him wrap his arm around your waist so you were steady as your hands placed themselves on his biceps, playing around with the fabric of his outfit, “I’m better — well, as best I can be — but I know you’ll be there… I will be fine.”

There was reluctance in his features, those turquoise hues trying to find any lie in your words before he gave you a nod.

“I concede…” he murmured and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the hesitancy in his words. Pressing a gentle kiss on the High Lord’s cheek, murmuring a thank you before moving back to your position on the lounge chair, picking up your book once more.

You looked back up to just miss the shake of his head, before he wrapped a hand around your neck, tilting your head up so he could lean down to press a kiss on your lips, “After our mating ceremony, I wish for you to initiate our kisses, my stardust…”

Feeling the warmth of your cheeks you stared up at him, “If that is the wish of my High Lord, then it shall happen…”

He let out a low chuckle before pressing another kiss on your lips, your book forgotten on your lap.

The ceremony venue was extravagant, to say the least — Tarquin, as well as Thesan from what you had gathered, pulled all the stops. The throne room of Summer Court was flourishing with flowers and the summer sun radiating down through all the large windows.

You were a nervous mess sitting in your room. It was still several hours before the ceremony, that you weren’t too nervous for; it was the fact that you were going to meet your old family once more.

The Captain of Dawn, your dear friend, had informed you that the Inner Circle just arrived at the outskirts of Summer Court. And that set off your nerves completely.

You had requested, when you had sent the letter to Night Court, to meet with them before your ceremony — to officially close the wounds between all of you.

And so when a knock startled you out of your worries, you turned around in your chair from your vanity where you were getting ready. Watching those doors open to reveal your old family.

There stood Rhysand, in his Night Court attire along with Feyre, who was at his side. There was a pang in your chest, the pain of their betrayal somehow festering its way back into your heart. But it was slowly soothed out by the warmth of the mating bond that Tarquin seemed to have sent your way. The doors closed behind the Inner Circle, and you noticed the Captain of Dawn stationed at the door.

Thesan’s lover is quite a busybody isn’t he…? You had sent down the bond to your mate. And all you felt was Tarquin’s chuckle as you focused back on the now.

You slowly stood up, a small smile on your features before you watched from the corner of your eye Mor heading to a sprint and giving you the biggest hug.

“… I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…” she apologized, the words repeating on her lips as she squeezed you, burying her head into your neck.

Tears pricked the edge of your eyes as your arms wrapped around her and you buried your head to the crook of her neck, letting the blond curls tickle your face.

“… Mor…” you whined her name.

A sob wracked through the blonde’s body, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That you’re better…” she whispered before pulling back and staring at you, “I’m glad you found your mate. I’m glad that he’s making you happy — that you deserve happiness — after all the shit you went through and everything we had put you under…”

You smiled at her as you felt her cup your cheeks, nodding your head, “… — Thank you, Mor. I’m glad to see you again, truly. I missed you so much…”

A smile tugged on Mor’s features, “We will see each other more… if you let us.”

You nodded your head as she stepped away, allowing the rest of the Inner Court to greet you — hugging you and whispering their utmost apologies and congratulations.

Cassian had lifted you into his arms, something he used to do often when you were his Lady still, giving you a spin, “You will always be my Lady, (Y/N)…” he whispered into your ears, pressing a kiss against your cheek before literally handing you off to Azriel.

A giggle escaped your lips as you hugged the Spymaster as he pressed a kiss on your opposite cheek, “We will forever live with the regret of losing you…” Azriel hummed out, “We had and always will love you… But I wish for nothing but happiness for you…”

Your heart flourished at the words of your former family — the words that you had wished to hear two decades ago — slowly piecing your heart and soul back together. You had known, while you were healing, that they had always cared for you and that never meant to put so much pressure on you, unknowing of your nightmares and struggles after being Under the Mountain.

When you were settled back onto your feet, you turned to face Rhysand. The tension between the two of you was still high and you fought back all the urge to just run away from this confrontation between the two of you. You gave him a small smile before focusing your attention on Feyre who stepped up, reaching out to hold your hands.

“I am truly sorry…” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours.

You understood why Rhysand fell in love with Feyre. You had heard of the great deeds she had done for Night Court, for Prythian… she was something you could never have been next to Rhysand. The true High Lady of Night Court.

And somehow, you were okay with it.

Shaking your head, you looked at the High Lady, “…You were just following the feeling of the mating bond. Like I said that night, I cannot fault you for choosing your mate. I cannot fault you for following the tug… I — I would like to extend my congratulations —-”

Feyre shook her head, brows knitting at your words, “Do not, please. I will not accept that not when I have unknowingly broken you along with the rest of your family. ”

You looked at her, nodding your head as you felt her step back and the familiar scent and presence of your former husband taking her place. You lifted your eyes to look into violet ones — ones that sparkled with regret, ones that you were in love with for so long.

Even if it was two decades that passed, you felt like you were still in sync with him, knowing what he wanted. Turning onto your heels, you made your way to one of the furthest balconies, Rhysand following your steps. The large window doors closed behind you, leaving both of you in a pocket of privacy away from prying ears. You could see, from the corner of your eye, the Captain making his way closer to the doors and all you could do was hold a hand up — signaling that you were fine and safe.

Turning back around, you focused on Rhysand who’s eyes were solely on you. Stepping past him, you made your way to the railing, pressing your hands on the warm marble, as you basked in the summer sun.

“(Y/N)…” Rhysand whispered one that was so quiet that the wind barely was able to carry it to your sensitive ears.

“I… I cannot forgive you, Rhysand…” you declared, eyes still closed as you let the warmth of your new home wash over you, to comfort you as you confront your past, “I cannot and do not fault you for choosing her. I can see why you had fallen for her — she’s beautiful, both inside and out. But I cannot forgive you for it. You had broken me so much, that there were many times during my healing that I wondered why I wasn’t enough for you to choose me. Wondering what I have done to make you choose someone else other than your wife who stood next to you for centuries.”

You could hear the shaky breath that Rhysand exhaled as you felt him stand next to you on the balcony.

You couldn’t look at him, every fiber in your body shaking to break again if you looked at him. You needed to be strong — for yourself and for the people around you who worried immensely for your health.

“I know… I know you would never forgive me, (Y/N). I have accepted that truth… I just wish things ended differently, you know? I wanted to let you know, that there was not a moment in our centuries together as husband and wife that I wished you were my mate… that there was not a moment that I did not love you…”

A broken laugh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes and looked up at him once more, seeing those unshed tears in violet hues.

“… And there was not a time where I wished you were my mate… But it seems that Mother had a different path for both of us. One that led us away from each other.”

You reached up, with shaky hands, and attempted to touch him; however, your body paused, and with furrowed brows, you dropped your hand back onto your side. You could see Rhysand’s body slouched slightly as if missing your touch. A forced smile tugged onto your lips as you stepped back, creating a significant distance between the two of you, “… I hope you enjoy the ceremony, Rhysand…”

He knew when he was dismissed and he smiled at you before stepping out of the balcony. You watched with longing and pain as he and the Inner Court stepped out of your room.

“… Probably it wasn’t such a good idea to have the two of you alone together…” The Captain commented, stepping onto the balcony, worry in his tone.

“I’m fine… just give me a moment…” you whispered, pressing a hand against your chest, to calm down your heart. You slouched against the railing for a few minutes, feeling the bond in your chest to help your racing heart.

“…Do you need me—-”

“No… I don’t need Tarquin or Thesan right now. They’re in their own state of panic already…”

The Captain let out a chuckle, “That is true… They have set their mind to ensure that this ceremony would be perfect…”

After calming your heart, you straightened up and gave the Captain a light smirk, “…Busybodies the lot of them…” You stepped back into your room, allowing yourself to fix yourself up before the ceremony, the Captain following your trail.

You stood on the dias of the throne room, Tarquin by your side as the priestess started the ceremony. Your gown was a lovely mixture of blue, much like the oceans that crashed below the castle. The priestess’ words had gone deaf in your ears as all you could do was stare up at the High Lord of Summer, love and affection in your features as well as through the bond.

When the priestess had asked for the two of you to exchange vows, Tarquin looked at you with the same look as you did to him, a soft smile on his features.

“Never in my life, I would have thought to find my mate. I had thought that I would rule my Court without a High Lady by my side. But that fateful day I had whisked you away from Thesan and Dawn Court, all I had wished was for you to be mine.

“My stardust…” the nickname always made your heart skip in your chest, “I had fallen in love with you… despite your broken soul and heart. I was honored that you had trusted me enough to help mend your soul from the nightmares that haunted you, and that still haunt you till this day. But I couldn’t let you know of my affections, not when you had set yourself into healing. So I waited, waited for years and when that mating bond snapped, I knew I couldn’t hold out for much longer. I needed you in my arms, I needed to have your eyes set on me — rather than looking into your past. And when you had your relapse… I had to let you know. I had to let you know that you have someone, your mate, to be with you every step of your healing process.”

You felt tears trickle down your cheeks as Tarquin wiped them away, “You deserve this bond after everything that you have been through… the Mother has gifted you this bond. And I am honored to be at the end of that string.”

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn’t even find the words for your own vows. All you could mutter to him as he pressed his forehead against yours, “Thank you… I love you, I thank you, and I am also honored and blessed by the Cauldron to have you as my mate. Thank you for mending my heart. I am glad to give it to you, and not worry about it breaking…”

You watched through a tearful gaze, Tarquin giving you a radiant smile before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, “And I would never break it… not your heart that is precious like gemstones…”

You laughed as applause reached your ears, leaning up once more to kiss your mate.

Your heart was safe — mended together once more — and you knew it would never break again.

Tagging list: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @abysshaven @prythianpages @leahoneil @rachelnicolee

[gingernut1314]

Just thinking about how...

Gojo is the epitome of the “don’t rush me, Katie. I’m--just not ready.” audio going around Tiktok from Monsters vs. Aliens.

He’s cocky and smug and teasing but as soon as your hands start moving down his strong torso, fingers nimbly beginning to unbutton his pants he’s going to become the biggest nervous wreck you’ve ever seen.

Why?

Thank you for asking I will elaborate. 

I personally believe he’s only been with a small handful of people intimately. 

Most sorcerers view him as this untouchable weapon that they want to use and control. 

Its also my belief that a lot of sorcerers might be too scared of him to even try to approach him in that way if at all. 

Non-sorcerers are an opinion I think he probably explored once but after that once never went back because non-sorcerers and him are just too different. 

Sorcerers and him are just too different. 

There was only one person in his life who understood--who wasn’t too different, but that person turned into a mass-murdering cult leader. 

Gojo wants people to think he’s this super charming sex god. 

When in reality he spends half his time outside of work locked in his room, listening to sad girl music and shoving his face full of sweets while he continues to think about and pine after Geto. 

I half think he wouldn’t even want to know the person's name.

But the other half of me thinks he would want to know your favorite color and the name of your first pet before he even thinks about going to the bedroom with you.

Honestly, I think Gojo’s walls, while very flashy and fun, are very tall and very thick and it takes a lot to even get a peek behind them.

He’s been treated differently his whole life. 

Treated poorly because most think words couldn't possibly hurt him.

And on top of all that, had his heart broken by someone he cared for and trust deeply.

So being intimate with someone is something I think he struggles with. 

A “do they just want to sleep with me cause I’m the strongest” and “What if I get attached” mindset type of guy. 

Gojo was hesitant to get into a serious relationship with you.

You had to fight tooth and nail for a long time to win a place in his heart.

So when you feel his muscles tense and hear him begin to talk on and on about literally anything and everything under the sun, you take a pause. 

Give him a comforting space to talk about his fears and anxieties. 

If you care about him even a smidge, and you care about him so much it hurts, you’ll let him initiate.

You’ll wait for him to be ready and when he is I pinky promise it’ll have been worth it.

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[tan1shere]

Slumber Party pt 3

A/n: hey everyone, sorry this has taken awhile I wanted to make it extra special for you all. Hope it was worth the wait, my requests are open for any other stories you may want! (Please I'm begging 😭) possibly the last part! Not too sure yet but regardless. Enjoy !

Masterlist

Summary: like the song slumber party. Ellie thinks she can treat you better then your shitty girlfriend.

Warnings: Dom Ellie, she's kinda soft but not really- smoking, high Ellie (just a lil bit) protective Ellie

Its not like you were sneaking around when Isabel got back. Because Ellie had told you, she texted Isabel. At first you were really worried, scared even. But that feeling soon left, you started to not give a fuck. Your feelings for Ellie much too strong to worry about Isabel, any longer. And you indeed took up Ellies offer. But like most things in your life. It came with a price.

You were deciding to pack when Isabel was at work. You didn't have too much stuff of your own, most of it was hers. So it was easily hidden when she got back home. You had no idea how to approach even telling her that you were leaving. Should you just go? Spare the broken bones and possible tears? You say you don't give a fuck, but you know with how you are that's a lie. You feel too much, your feelings can be way too overpowering. So you landed on leaving without any notice.

Since she broke your phone, there was no way of contacting. She didn't know where Ellie lived so she couldn't search out to find you. You'd leave tomorrow... Or maybe the next day. You sigh sitting on the bed. You couldn't tell what was holding you back so much. Was it fear? Was it comfort? You shake your head. That couldn't be it, you hated this place. Regardless of when you'd probably do it during the day when she's at work. You did however have a backup phone that she didn't know about. You wanted to keep in contact with Ellie. That night you two had was one you couldn't ever forget. It made you more needier for her. You wanted her forever. Suddenly you hear your phone go off on the secret phone.

This made your brain go even more fuzzy. The fact you had just been thinking about her.. the fact she's high right now. You so wanted to be around her when she was like that. You think about it more. How her beautiful eyes would be droopy, and a lil red. You think back to her in the white wife beater and you feel yourself clench your thighs together. You can't get distracted. Oh but how you needed her so badly.

The day has come. You had finally finished packing. Isabel was at work so this was the perfect time to leave.. So you thought. As you were carrying your duffle bag to the front door. Your met with those same eyes. The same terrifying ones you hate. You widen your eyes and gulp. Frozen to the floor. You stand there unable to process why the hell she's home already. She looks at you starting to look furious. You don't get why, if she hates you so much why can't she just let you go. But that's the thing. She hated you, she wanted you so she could ruin your life. Ruin your happiness. You then regain composure, going to sternly push past her. She grabs your arm firmly.

"Now where the fuck. Do you think you're leaving to." You glare at her, for the first time, letting your anger overtake the sadness. "None of your business." You spat. Still giving her the same look. "You're off to hers aren't you." You don't say anything. You honestly don't know how to respond. But you're cut short with the conversation when Ellie pulls up. You and Isabel both look outside, seeing her car pull to a stop. You try and get out of Isabels tight hold, knowing you're safe now as she can't lay even a finger on you, having Ellie as a witness. Although if you're being truthful, you don't think Isabel would give a shit.

Ellie gets out coming over to you guys. Thankfully Ellie was taller then the both of you, making it more intimidating. Isabel was hesitant to let you go, but she nonetheless does. You go impossibly closer to Ellie. Wondering just how this was going to play out. "Dont think about trying to follow us. Nor contacting her. I've been easy on you for her sake but I will quite literally kill you if you come anywhere near her, ever. Again." Isabel let's out a huff, going back inside and slamming the door. It's over.... You're free.

"You can put the rest in my roo-" Ellie begins to speak but you cut her off, grabbing her shirt and kissing her. "I need you." You say slightly out of breath. She was bewildered at first, but regardless, she picks you up, taking you to her room and gently putting you down on the bed. She begins to strip you of your clothes, just as eager. "I've been waiting all day, just so I can have you." She spoke softly, yet a slight roughness was added to her tone. Shes driving you crazy. "Fuck I needed this all day yesterday. Was even touching myself thinking about you." That sent you over the borderline of crazy. That sent you ballistic. The thought of Ellie high. Touching herself to the thought of you. You could've just came from the thought.

You just can't believe that you're here with her. In these circumstances. Your childhood best friend. Your secret little crush from way back. "I want you to take me Ellie. Make me yours. Forever." You blurt out. Ellie then wasted no time coming down to your thighs, gripping them tight. Which made you to clench them at the feeling of her soft hands. Causing her to feel your sopping wet underwear. Making her groan with anticipation. She rips them open wasting absolutely no time at all. "Promise to buy you another pair. Fuck.. I'll buy you a whole set." She leans down but before she does anything. She pauses. You whine. "Ellie please. I want your tongue so badly.." You let out a breath as you can feel hers, warm and amazing, fanning over your cunt.

"That's a want princess. Not a need. I don't think you truly need this. Or do you angel." She was teasing, and it was tearing you up inside. "I need it. Need your amazing tongue to fuck into me. Need it desperately Els I crave it." She rolls her eyes back, leaning down immediately. Eating you. Devouring you. This felt like another universe of ecstasy. It felt so unreal. But it was very real. Her pumping her amazing tongue in and out of you. At a relentless pace. "Fuck.. you taste so good I could eat you for breakfast lunch and dinner." She purrs against you, never stopping even when she spoke.

"Th-that can be arranged." You pant like a dog who needs water. Arching your back at this euphoric feeling. Sending you into overdrive. She gently moves her hand up to your breasts. Squeezing with ease. You let out a sharp moan, letting your head rest back into the pillows. "Come on angel. Wanna taste your sweetness. Squirt in my mouth baby." Feeling the tightness in your lower stomach again, you do just that. Making it shoot down the back of her throat. She swallows it with pure pleasure. She was so incredibly pussy drunk, it was insane. You were just the same, feeling fucked out and only from her tongue. What couldn't this woman do.

But you were pulled out of your thoughts when you suddenly heard a belt buckle, and it being thrown onto the floor. You blinked a few times to regain your consciousness. But that was soon gone again as she fucks into you. Hard, and fast. You let out a gasp, it slowly turning into a moan. One only heard by porn stars. You grip the sheets, tightly. Feeling her relentlessly fuck into you. It was truly heaven. To think you could've been with her this whole time. She actually cares for you. Wants you. She.. wants, you. You still couldn't believe it. She grips your hips tightly as she speeds up a bit more, making you scream out her name.

"She would, never. Fuck you, like I do. She'd never know your body. Like I do. She'd never be able to make you cum in under 5 minutes. Like. I. Do." You bite your lip. Holding back the most craziest of sounds. "Did she ever make you feel this way angel? Ever?" You arch your back yet again, wanting more. If that was even possible. You let out little whimpers. "Fuck you make me so crazy. You're so fucking precious. Like a real life angel. Gunna protect you from now on. No one. Will. Ever. Hurt you." She leans down to the skin of your neck going to suck, hard. You let out breaths as both the feeling of her mouth and strap. She hums against your skin.

"You. Are. Mine." She keeps marking your skin. Worshipping you. She's so madly inlove with you she can't think straight. "Come on baby.. want you to cum.. desperate for it. Want you to milk it. Show that I'm yours too. No one else gets this strap but you angel. Claim it." And you fucking claimed it alright. Cumming with so much pleasure running through your body. It was indescribable. Just how intense it was. She even came a bit, watching her girl unravel under her control. Makes her wild. You let out breaths, feeling sweaty, and tired.

She pulls out, taking it off and setting it aside. "Mine now?" You breathe out. "Yours now angel. All yours." She kisses your temple and lays with you. Bringing you close. And for the first time in what felt like forever. You felt safe.. content. You felt at home, in the arms of your future wife.

A/n: I'm so sorry if this is awful lovelies :( I had to restart cuz I accidentally got rid of some of my best work. So it's not the best. I hope you guys enjoy it tho! Much love <3

[elryuse]

*cough cough* yandere Lily showing you the wedding band meaning you're her husband now. can I request a yandere ex-gf Lily?

Dangerous Melody!

YANDERE LILY X MALE READER

The faint smell of bleach stung Lily's nostrils, a counterpoint to the metallic tang that clung to the worn chopping board. She stared down at the discarded blonde hair, the vibrant color now a dull, lifeless mess, mirroring the hollowness that gnawed at her. Minnie, another pretty face removed from the equation.

Lily used to mock Y/n's obsession with K-Pop. Now, she was the one consumed by it, living through his memories, fueled by a twisted jealousy that had curdled into a horrifying obsession. Y/n, her Y/n, the nerdy guy who used to stammer compliments about her singing voice, was now a rising star. He was surrounded by a glittering constellation of K-Pop idols - (G)-Idle, Kep1er, ITZY - each a potential threat.

The initial thrill of revenge, of watching them fall one by one - a "clumsy" fall for Miyeon, a "sudden illness" for Chaeryeong - had morphed into a chilling emptiness. The closer they got to Y/n, the further he seemed to drift, withdrawing from the public eye, a ghost haunted by fame.

One rainy night, Lily found herself huddled in a doorway opposite Y/n's old apartment. She'd become a stalker, her once carefully curated social media presence abandoned, her life consumed by the flickering glow of his window.

A lone figure emerged, his silhouette obscured by the downpour. He moved with the slumped shoulders of a defeated man, the rain blurring the lines of his tear-streaked face. Y/n. Her Y/n, a broken shell of the boy she used to know.

Anger, raw and hot, pulsed through her veins. All this suffering, all this scheming, for a man who didn't even fight for her? He wasn't worth the effort, the thrill of the chase. But a cold, unsettling voice whispered in the back of her mind – he was hers. He'd always been hers.

The next morning, Lily stood before his building, a manic glint in her normally cool blue eyes. The security guard, a young man who'd always fawned over her fleeting visits, stammered in surprise.

"Miss Lily? But Mr. Y/n doesn't want guests."

Lily's lips curved into a chilling smile. "He doesn't have a choice anymore, does he?"

The fear in the guard's eyes was a balm to her frayed nerves. Her fingers closed around the handle of a heavy duffel bag, its contents a terrifying promise.

Y/n didn't notice the rustle of movement outside his window until a bloodcurdling scream pierced the night. He threw it open, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Lily, her face streaked with a mixture of rain and something much redder.

"Lily?" He whispered, his voice thick with terror. "What… what have you done?"

Her smile was predatory, devoid of any warmth. "Oh, Y/n," she purred, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "Just making sure there are no more distractions. Now, come here."

Before he could react, Lily lunged, dragging a rusty chain with shackles from her bag. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so petite, the cold metal biting into his skin as she secured them.

"We'll be together again," she crooned, her voice a chilling melody. "Forever this time."

He struggled against the restraints, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and loathing. "Lily, no! You're insane!"

"Insane? Perhaps," she conceded, her eyes glinting with a terrifying amusement. "But only for you, my love."

Ignoring his pleas, she hoisted him onto her shoulder, his screams swallowed by the sounds of the rain. The once vibrant city lights blurred past in a dizzying kaleidoscope, a cruel reminder of the life he was being ripped away from.

Their destination – a secluded cabin nestled deep in the woods, a place she'd inherited from a distant relative. There, in the heart of isolation, a twisted love story bloomed. A love bound by fear and obsession, where Y/n became Lily's captive, a broken idol trapped in a gilded cage of her own making.

The K-Pop world mourned their missing star, whispers of foul play turning into cold acceptance. But for Y/n, trapped in the suffocating darkness of their love-turned-prison, there was no more music, no more fans. Only the horrifying reality of his ex-lover, now a monster, and the chilling words that echoed through the lonely cabin: "Forever, Y/n. Forever with me."

[chaifootsteps]

(Long semi rant trying to dissect what the basis of stolitz bond is supposed to be)

Some time ago Viv liked fanart of Blitzø holding a broken gold chain round his neck tearfully saying “please don’t get rid of me” so she knows his reaction is Stockholm syndrome not love but she’s trying to sell it as love? Going by her “what are you doing here then?” Line from stolas, she thinks him crawling back and begging to be sexually abused again, means he is in love and wants stolas to be his boyfriend. Christ.

She’s really struggling to write their supposed connection. If it requires a tertiary character like Millie or Fizz to state it to us, that’s not enough. Millie made him mad, and Fizz was saying “well your jokes are so bad that anyone laughing at them proves how in love they are!” I mean cmon. That’s nothing. Everyone laughs at the jokes of a guy they want to fuck.

It’s never organic. Either someone purchases one of them to be owned by the other, or the person is forced against his will by some contrivance, to leave his home behind and get stuck with the other. Vivzie sees this force, coercion and transaction as the strings of fate connecting their pinkie fingers. Is she deranged?

I guess he blushed at stolas ugly human form and made weird faces during All 2 U, and even though she strongly established him as not wanting to have sex with stolas all throughout season 1 and the start of season 2, she’s trying to go back and tell us he actually did? The evidence being his photo on his phone, where the phone inexplicably hovered above then both without Blitzø holding it at all, and his confusing horny song at Full Moon. Sorry but no matter what I can’t unsee him as a rape victim who can’t accept anything else and is very hypersexual.

Stolas is a guilt-ridden rapist trying to overcome his lust and domesticate a prostitute his father bought him as a kid 25 years ago, who can’t fathom love and has severe mental health issues. The rapist then gaslights and devalues the prostitute in public shaming, until he sees the rapist as superior to him and accepts all abuse as deserved. He feels like he has to win his abuser back to prove his own worth. Then once the prostitute sees the rapist has an abusive wife, starts dating him like he always demanded. That’s her magnum opus.

I think she just can’t comprehend the psychology of someone who’s been forced to have sex with another person over and over. Gross as it is, you can become accustomed to it and try to find power in it. This is the psychology of sex trafficking. And in general, she doesn’t understand Blitzø at all. She can’t understand someone not loving stolas. She thinks that someone compartmentalising the trauma and forcing themselves to be into it, kindve a “fake it til you make it” type deal, she thinks that’s a sign someone is attracted, and falling in love. In that case I hope she stays away from victims who’ve become attached to their rapists. She would tell them they protest too much and need to grow up, stop letting their self hatred make them imagine abuse that’s totally not real and just assuming the worst, and settle down with them.

Sorry, take from this what you will, or don’t, it’s just my long winded dissection for anyone willing to read it.

No, it's a great dissection, thank you for sending it!

And the thing is, fictional Stockholm syndrome relationships are super fascinating in fiction; everyone likes them. If they'd just call Blitz and Stolas's relationship what it is and explore that to its full twisted potential, I don't think there'd be any complaints. I certainly wouldn't be objecting.

[theshypinkflower]

🎃 Kinktober ~ Nosebleed/Bloodplay

🐺Vincent (Day 3)

Bloodplay, broken noses, non-con, scratching, dead dove do not eat, knotting (cmon, Vincent has a knotted cock like Ren)

You hated being stuck in that damn bunker, lord knows you tried to get out, but that’s kinda hard to do when you’re up against someone twice your size and strength. Vincent gripped your hair harshly by its root, his breathing rugged and uneven. “You little shit,” he growled. In your defense, biting his cock was a good idea, but now you were starting to wonder if it was worth it. After all, you didn’t want to end up like the skull you found in his closet. Talk about skeletons in the closet.

“Let me go, damn it!” You protested as you tried prying his calloused fingers from your hair. It was scary how strong he was, he was practically lifting you off the ground just by your scalp. And that was worse for you since there was so much weight on your poor hair. Vincent knitted his brows together and scowled, showing those oddly sharp fangs. There was something off about him, but you couldn’t figure out what. From his oddly long (at least longer than any other guy like him would have) and sharp nails to his weirdly shaped cock.

“Like hell I will! You bit my dick!” Vincent shouted at you. Vincent wasn't just mad, he was pissed. You could nearly see steam come out of his ears he was so mad. A large noticeable vein pulsed on the arm that held you. “Ya know, I gotta give you credit,” Vincent said with a smirk as his southern drawl coated his words smoothly, “takes a lot of balls to try n' bite my own.”

Vincent chuckled before he delivered a swift kick to your stomach. You curled over in pain as best as you could while an audible groan was heard from you. His steel toed boot was more of a powerful weapon than you thought. The pain of your stomach was enough to divert your attention from Vincent's next plan of action.

With a violent force, Vincent slammed your head into the ground. You let out a painful scream as the crunch of your nose rang throughout your ears. Blood pooled out onto the cold floor, in all fairness it seemed like too much blood for your nose to produce. Vincent slowly lifted your head up, tears streamed down your face and blood had not only flooded down your nose but also smeared a bit.

“Well ain't that a sight..” Vincent said with a suggestive grin. Despite how you bit harshly on his cock earlier, he was still stiff. Vincent held your face closer, dragging his tongue along your face and getting a healthy dose of your blood. The crimson color coated his lips and tongue, and what was so off putting is that he seemed to enjoy it. Gross.

Vincent eventually would sit down on the ground and straddle you onto his lap. The weight of your hips pressed his leaky cock to his stomach. His sharp nails (more like claws really) dug into the soft flesh of your hips, which caused you to let out a painful hiss.

Vincent haphazardly ripped your clothes from your body, “Wait- stop!” You shrieked as the fabric was discarded to the floor.

“Shut up,” Vincent griped as he shoved his length into, no lube or anything. It was painful to say the least as he bottomed out. Lord knows taking his knot was gonna be the worst part of your day. “Fuck, that's the stuff,” he groaned while his claws dug into your skin.

Because his claws were so deep, it began to draw blood on your hips. Vincent gave a toothy grin at the sight of blood coating your hips and his nails. He began to rut inside you roughly, oddly enough more focused on scratching you. He dug his nails into your arm, your chest, your ass, anywhere he could.

As blood seeped out the scratches he left, he happily lapped them up as if he was a dog. The saliva from his tongue was painful to your tender scratches as he latched onto your scars. “Shit, you taste way too good,” he moaned as his tongue started across his lips to savor your taste.

It was metallic and acidic on his tongue, yet he somehow needed more. The taste of the smooth liquid somehow fueled his lust for you. With each lap, his thrusts would become sloppier and messier. Vincent didn't care if you were horny for him or not, he needed a personal chew toy for the time being.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head while you whined and squirmed on his lap. You tried to get away, but his nails seemed to dig deeper as his orgasm approached. His knot swelled and it was becoming painful to manage for your poor captor. It wasn't long before he forced you down onto the thick knot with a loud moan, of course for you it was a painful yelp you let out.

His warm cum filled you full, you swore you saw your stomach bulge a bit as he deposited all he had. You sighed, it was over. You tried to get off only for Vincent to shove you back down, “I wouldn't get off if I were you, you gon’ tear somethin’,” he said as you rolled your eyes and laid on his chest.

Nothing like being stuck with a broken nose and a cock buried deep inside you amiright?

[monsterfloofs]

Rat (Male demon) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

(Welp. The audience voted for more silly beans. 👀✨️ So here yeh go! I hope you enjoy. I love Rat, he made me laugh quite a bit while I was writing skdksksjs)

“Witchling,” Rank breath causes you to wrinkle your nose, turning your head away from the sharp jutting teeth. A large snap trap of a maw and beady sunken in eyes leered down at you.

“Heard there was a new one of yeh creepin’ around downtown.”

“I live here now, thank you very much,” You managed to huff, but sounding airy and unbothered at being boxed into an alleyway was all but a mad bluff. You tried your best to see if you could eyeball a way to escape.

A first day in your new home and trouble was already brewing as soon as you had begun your walk to work.

“Yeh know, witch bones pay good on the black market ‘round here. I think I may just got my ticket to makin' a pretty penny."

You try to grin, but the disgust and horror on your face, pulls your mouth into more of a grimace.

“H-huh you don’t s-say. . .”

You covertly try to sneak your hand into your satchel.

"Now don't make me have to get rough with ya–" 

There was a hard thunk that shattered into a million glistening crystal shards of glass over top of the big fellas head. You jolt in surprise at the sudden explosion. Reflexes kicking in enough so that you shield your face with your arms. You watch with horror as the imposing figure that had been looming over you moments before crumple to the concrete in a heap. The brick walls that had been boxing you in shuddered violently. Your eyes look from him lying motionless on the ground to the figure behind the hulking form. With a broken booze bottle in one hand. it steps out from the dark like a newly animated shadow. A dark trench coat tied tightly around a wiry frame. Two broken horns left stumps on either side of their face and bright luminous silvery eyes with pin prick slits. A tail swishing back and forth with a number of kinks in it that you guess are from numerous broken bones. The shadowy demon catches your gaze before a wide smile cracks open on its abyssal face. 

It hums a jaunty tune as it stoops to rifle through the downed man's pockets. Silver eyes brightening as it pulls out a worn wallet and flips it open, tugging out a wad of cash.

"Is my Lucky day– Heya doll," That wide mouth grins wickedly up at you. "Wanna drink? He's payin."

Your eyes go round and you shake your head vehemently.

“N-nuh uh.”

“Yeh sure?”

“Ab-so-lutely.”

"Eh, suit yeh-self." The figure stands and pockets the money, tossingthe beat up wallet ontop of the would be accoster. 

"Hopefully this palooka will twince about threatenin’ folks eh? Thanks for the dough, joe." He salutes the unconscious body before an arm snakes around you and you are hustled out of the alleyway.

"Hey- hey!" You try to pull away before you are pushed into the bright light of more warmer streets. You stumble forward and wobble to retain your balance.

"Now, scat kiddaroo, youse need to get outta here." He grins and flaps a hand at you, "Ain't nothin' good in these backallies, I promise. No shortcuts worth gettin' shanked."

"I was lost," You grumble hesitantly. "I was looking for the library."

"Library, uh?” They think for a moment before shoving the jagged existing half of the broken bottle into your hands.

"Hold this a sec, will yeh?"

You hold the dripping bottle with the tips of your fingers, the smell of strong alcohol stinging your nose. 

“Come on kid, let’s boogey, before that big guy wakes up.”

Your eyebrows raise as the shade pushes a clear pathway through the brickwork of one of the walls. It cracked upon like a set of misaligned teeth, opening wider until you could see a dusty path between the stones.

“Whoa. . . what,”

“No questions, jus’ go!” With clawed hands shoving at you stumble through the cavernous open. “Get a wiggle on!”

You felt relatively harassed, as you are pushed into the tunnel you dig your hand into your bag. Fingers searching around before they close around the sharp edge of a crystal ward, just in case you had landed from the frying pan and straight into the fire. 

The brickwork was pushed back into place, yet instead of the light closing up, there seemed to be thin light coming from above. Smuggled into a secret passageway of sorts. 

“So,”

You jolt a little as you realize the demon had already moved close, without making a sound. Their hands resting on his cheeks as they propped their elbows on a dusty stack of empty kegs. 

“You gotta name, they’m in distress?”

Oof, that was the worst pick up line you think you have ever heard. It took you a moment to even realize it was one.

“Uh. . . uh huh.” And you left it at that.

The demons look unphased. arching their back in a stretch and giving a yawn. In the low light their dark skin had a shimmery purple sheen to it. You could see glimpses of it where lights crossed from above.

"So what brings ya into town? Ain't from around here, that's for certain."

Your eyebrow creases as the large luminous eyes go up and down your frame. You cross your arms around yourself protectively, hunching your shoulders. He didn't seem to pose a threat, but he was especially nosey.

"The library is. . . ?"

He makes a noise. "Not a conversationalist? Awight! I gettcha!" 

He breezes past you.

"Come'on cupcake."

"Cupc– Oh no. You are not calling me that." You huff, as you trot after them.

You had to hand it to your strange companion, after the confusing trek through passageways and then feeling like you were dismally lost in the heart of crowded city streets. He did bring you to the library. He had nudged you with his elbow, and pointed out the building to you a few blocks away. The sight of the library gives you a rush relief that if anything, you would be on time. Perhaps just in a more scuffed up state than you would have hoped for. Ah well.

The demon marches towards the double doors, pushing them open.

"Mags!" His throaty voice hollering into the quiet sanctum, "HEY MAGS!!"

A librarian looks up from her work at the large circular desk. She was tall and thin, with a hooked nose and long face. Long dark hard like fringed wings laid around her shoulder. Her lips part as the shade strolls across the threshold, about to say something before her eyes fall upon you. Looking alive if not worse for wear. . . and regrettably carrying a weapon.

They demon puffs themselves up proudly.

“Found this peach hangin around them back allies. Say's they work here. I'm their guardian angel or somethin’ swooped right in an saved em!”

They slung an arm around you once more, a quick hand mussing up your hair on your hair.

“He-heY QUIT!”

Her lips quirk forming an amused smile. “Oh no, certainly nothing like an angel. . . Thank you for helping them get here at least."

Mags eyes the broken bottle in your hands, and you wobble on the spot. She turns her graceful chin back in the demon's direction.

"Actually, I wanted to speak with you about something as well. . . If I find you sleeping in the library again Rat, I shall be forced to put a ward on this building.”

The demon, now dubbed Rat, had perked up, looking very pleased with itself. That is until it was threatened with expulsion. It gawked at her eyes wide. 

“It’ssa public place! Yeh can’t do—“

“I can and I will.”

She put her hands on her hips, giving him a cool look.

Rat scrunches his face, slowly untangling himself from you, squinting his bulbous eyes at her. “Witch.”

“Yes, I am quite aware of what I am, thank you, now if that is all Mr. Rathbone. . . ?”

His eyes pop open as he shudders from the tip of his crooked tail up his back.

“I’m goin! I’m goIN! No need to get all hexxy vexxy on me!” He spits with disgust and squares his shoulders. “Dis is what I gets for helpin you uh? I’ll neveh do it again!”

His wide eyes turn to you and his expression becomes more sulky, pouting as he jabs a thumb at himself. “You owe for me dis witchy! I’ll be back!”

And like an indignant black cat, he slinks out of the door. Pausing long enough to stick his tongue out at the both of you from the window, before disappearing.

Mags puts a perfectly manicured hand to her cheek and sighs.

“Such a dramatic creature."

The librarian turns to you, her face softening. “I’m sorry to hear that there was trouble. I will give you protection charms to help keep you safe. I had to also learned that the hard way. Some streets are too dangerous to travel upon, even during the day. I am glad Rathbone found you though,  despite his. . . flaws."

Mags snaps her fingers and the shards of glass as well as the broken bottle shimmer away. You flex your fingers in relief and sigh.

“Thanks. . . Sounds like you’ve dealt with him before.”

She raises her eyes to the ceiling, “Oh yes. I haven’t been here long, but we already are well acquainted.”

You were glad she hadn't mentioned the bottle, and you were all too ready to forgot the whole experience.

“. . .I take it then, you’re not from Verdigris either?”

She shakes her head, long earrings jingling. “I’m from Fayeweiss. We recently had our library system spread over to Verdigris, I am overseeing that we become established and connected to our sister libraries.” 

“Fayeweiss. Wow, I have heard a lot of good things about Wyrn.” You smile, “Does he really do all his work in his sleep?”

You see the budding of a true smile on her lips, “. . . Just about. He runs his poor secretary quite mad.”

You purse your lips to stifle a laugh. That poor person. . . whoever they were.

“You’re not from around here either, but I don’t know the accent.”

“Oh,” You scuff your foot sheepishly, “Sunmel.”

“I heard the festivals there are lovely.”

You nod, “I was able to attend the last one before moving, I was glad I got to be there one last time.”

She places a warm hand on your shoulder, leading you gently. "Let's take a tour shall we? So you can get acquainted with the library. Would you like to take a small tea break before we start? You have had a hectic afternoon, and I have something to help settle those nerves."

A rough start to a first job ended on a pleasant note. Mags wasn't going to be your boss for the remainder of your position. Once the library was running well enough to stand on its own, she planned on traveling back to Fayeweiss. Which you were sad to hear, she seemed to be a kind individual and would have made a great boss and ally in this topsy turvy town. However she had promised the person who was going to be stepping into her role as a replacement she had trained herself. 

You felt at least a little assured, but that assurance was short lived as you stepped outside. You stood outside the library doors, with your shoes facing twists of turns of the city's labyrinth before you. The sky was beginning to darken into twilight, and you felt your stomach clench. Clutching the carved stone Mags had given you until your fingers tingle from the pressure. What was the path you took earlier? Once mirror transportation was situated, work would be a step away. . . but in the meantime traveling on foot through the city was more than a little daunting.

“Witchy!”

The voice makes you jump, holding a hand to your heart. It was the shade you met in the ally. Not exactly comforting but at least they were someone you recognized.

“Yeh dropped ya wallet.”

You glare at Rat, before you pat yourself down. You had a faint glimmer of hope that despite that self-assured goofy grin on his face, you were going to find your pockets full. Alas, you are in fact missing your wallet.

“How did you–?”

“I neveh reveal my secrets.” He grins.

You make an attempt to take the wallet back but he snaps his wrist back.

“Oh no! Not afta you humiliated me. I said ya owe me.”

“Okay. I’ll buy you a new bottle of whatever you were drinking earlier?”

“Temptin,”

You take another swipe for the wallet but he dances out of your way. Waving the wallet playfully under your nose.

“How about a drink wit me?” He bats his large eyes at you, and you get the distinct impression that you have seen a similar looking face. One of an extremely bedraggled cat that dragged itself out of the bathtub.

“I am definitely not going to go drinking with someone who is blackmailing me. You can keep the wallet at that point.”

He pouts. “Yer about as fun as dat other witch.” 

You pout back at him. “Whatever!” You scoff and cross your arms. "I don't go on dates with crooks."

"Eh! Dis crook saved yeh skin!"

"And then you stole my wallet?" You spread your arms wide. "Do you see how that isn't really endearing me to you??"

He sniffs before begrudgingly handing it back.

"And the money?"

He puts up his hands. "It's in dere! Sheesh! Talk about a picky customer!"

You shoot him an unimpressed look, because with all things considered, it's still your damn wallet. You flip it open to check the contents. With a cursory glance it looks like it's in there, but honestly you didn't feel like you could trust him. 

"I thought you might want company on da way home. Yanno? Someone to show ya a safe path you can take."

You stare at him, watching as he widens his eyes and tries his best to look innocent.

"Imma upstandin' citizen."

He really was trying hard to sell that yarn wasn't he?

"Ah, no, I don't think so." You turn and march away from him.

"Come on!" He yowls. "Come on, come on, come on! You need me!"

You glance over your shoulder. Then take a nervous glance up at the sky. Do you really want this unsavory character knowing where you live? Or do you want to take the risk of running around lost in the big city when it's night time? 

It was like that saying you remember hearing. 

It's better to pick the devil you know, then pick the devil you don't.

At least with this weirdo you can perform a level of protection against his presence, if anything goes wrong. You suck in a deep breath and turn back around.

"Fine. . . since I am still learning my way around." You grumble.

He grins "Then come on, sweet cheeks! I'll getcha home inna wink!"

"Those nicknames. . . are horrendous. You know that right?" 

He cackles and walks with a jaunty swagger in his step. You watch his tail brush past your knee before you sigh and begrudgingly follow behind him. 

He slows his speed enough that the two of you end up side by side. He hums cheerfully to himself, lighting a small cigarette with a flick of his thumb and fitting it between his crooked maw.

"How'z the new job? Yeh like it?"

You give him a surprised glance before realizing he must have put two and two together.  "It seems nice. . .” You shove your hands in your pockets thinking for a moment. "Oh, I think I remember the slang word they use around here. You're like, some kind of grifter right?"

Rat chokes on his cigarette, and accidentally eats it. He sputters out smoke, a clawed hand thumping his chest.

Oops.

"A WHAT?!" He manages to wheeze out.

"You know, a con man, a pickpocket, a swindler." 

He squints at you, tears forming in the corner of his eyes as he gives one last cough of smoke.

You watch the smoke ring float past your head before you smile and cross your arms. 

"I'm right aren't I? Why else would you be ducking around dubious alleyways?"

"I ain't that bad!" His ragged voice hisses, and you frown.

"Two wallet's a day isn't bad? You could of fooled me."

"Alright you snarky little," He grumbles the rest of what he was going to say inaudible. But then his face changes, and he gives an evil grin at you. "An. . . how much would you wager on that little assumption?" 

"Wager?" 

"Mmhm," His throaty voice rumbles and you frown.

"You mean like. . . a bet of sorts?" 

His eyes glitter and you raise an eyebrow. Oh boy, demons and debts are like mixing bleach and ammonia. 

"I thought you said you were a model citizen."

He sticks his tongue out playfully. 

"I am doll! I am!"

Right. Totally model citizen behavior right here.

"I'll overlook losing a bottle of booze, hell I'll even be your escort until ya don't need help around the city. I'll prove that I ain't no grifter."

"And if you can prove that. . . ?" 

He holds up a finger.

"One date. With me, afta work."

"Just a date? Are you that desperate?"

He squints at you, and you feel your face grow warm.

Oh yes, yes he is.

—-

You have gotten settled into the library space. Things are going well, you are learning a lot and flourishing in the quiet environment. You thought after so many attempts you thought Rat had finally given up.

But on your lunch break you heard, yowling, howling? Something?

Whatever noise that it was outside, it had you racing to look out one of the arched library windows. And there was your loverboy. Singing in the most god awful tone deaf song. At least, you think it was singing. You could barely make out “The Best is Yet to Come” by Frank Sinatra. Or perhaps you were giving him too much credit. 

Perhaps.

Mags comes to join you at the tall paned window. Peering down over her spectacles at the scene below. “. . . I have to admit he is persistent.”

Your brow furrows, throwing up the window. “Rat!” You yell, “What that heck are you doing!”

“Date night!” He hollers back. He holds up a bottle of wine proudly. “I even brought wine! Th’ good stuff!”

“Where did you get the money for it??” You yell back.

You watch his hand fall to his side. Still staring up at you.

“Rat!! Where did you get the money!?"

Without answering his slinks away.

“Oh my gods,” 

“There he goes,”

She gives you a look, “You. . . said you would go on a date with him?”

You look at her, “No. I made a bet. But I told him it had to be a clean date. No crookedness. I am guessing I’m going to win this one."

You rest your elbows on the window and you hear Mags trying to keep in laughter.

♡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡♡

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[bandnerdlevel43]

Ravioli Week, Day One- Love: Platonic/Romantic/Friend (Favorite AU)

Ravio x Lu Legend (Ravioli), Spirit Tracks Link x Zelda (Zelink) (< Implied)

Summary: Ravio is on a mission to rescue his husband from the Shadow’s tower. Not only does he dread what he finds, the mission doesn’t exactly go as planned, either.

Word Count: 3,742

Warnings: TW for mentions and evidence of torture and drugging, implied talk of Rulie’s whole sacrifice thing, Shadow does swear but it’s minor and I censored it anyway (I don’t swear :/), writer can’t resist making Legend a damsel in distress, mostly angst

A/N: Hello, everyone! I apologize for being… *checks calendar* …an entire week late? Holy Hylia, guys, I am so sorry. I totally missed the actual Ravioli Week. Well, I hope this is worth the wait!

As for the au, I'd like to explain. I didn't really have a favorite au before this, so I decided to use my own that I’ve been playing around with. Essentially, it's Hyrule Warriors Part Two: the Electric Boogaloo, with various companions attached in some way to each Link shoved together in the same adventure. For example, from Wind's Hyrule, Tetra; and from Wars’, Impa. I also added Spirit and his Zelda, since I love Spirit Tracks so much (older than Wind and Tetra bc I think it's funny how Wind would react that his successor is older than he is). And, of course, I had to include Ravio, with a side of marriage because I said so. Basically, this whole au started with me thinking that Midna and Hilda just screeching at each other was hilarious, and now Legend and Rulie are in Dink Jail and the Idiots have to get them out. *Shrugs* What can you do? 

If you're still reading this, I use the name “Spectre” to refer to Spirit's Zelda. I can't remember where I found the name, but if anyone can find the person who came up with it, please tell me. Thank you!

That's all I have to say! Enjoy!

----

“Close it, close it, close it!” Ravio gasped.

Link slammed the door shut behind him, throwing his slight body against the rusted steel. Ravio's fingers fumbled against the lock as the screech of claws on metal howled in his ears. The wolfos bayed frustratedly, making Ravio jump. Link groaned, his legs visibly shaking under the strain. Frankly, he was surprised the boy hadn't already snapped like a twig.

“Done!” Ravio scrambled away from the door. The wolfos behind it was very angry at the setback, that he could tell. He held his breath, waiting for the creature to burst its way in despite his best efforts. The thick metal rattled and, in some places, warped before its force, but its attempts proved fruitless. A snarl sounded from behind the door, and from then, silence. Ravio sighed while Link sank to the ground with a tiny whimper.

“Are you alright, Mister Link?” Ravio panted.

“I'm fine,” the Hylian chuckled. “That hurt, though.”

Ravio helped him up. Link stumbled to his feet, but he was relieved to see no further struggle. 

“Next time, I'm locking the door,” Link told him. 

Ravio shuddered. “I should hope there is no next time,” he mumbled.

Link snorted. Suddenly, his eyes widened, stepping around Ravio with his jaw agape. Ravio blinked, turned around, and sucked in a breath. 

He had never seen anything like it, and not in a good way. The dungeon was two floors tall, but apparently empty. The only light came from a couple of holes in the ceiling that allowed the smallest rays of sun to poke through. The smell of mildew drifted on stale, chilly air and burned his nose. Broken pieces of stone littered the floors and soaked in pools of water, giving the whole place a dilapidated feel. The cells were somehow even less sanitary! It was obvious that these cells had held a variety of creatures. Clumps of fur had been hastily shoved into corners, piles of hay lay rotting in a plethora of puddles, and rusted chains had been ripped from their place on the walls, bits and pieces of them tossed carelessly to the floor. The whole place reeked of decline and despair. Ravio's heart sank. 

“Wow,” Link laughed nervously. “I’d almost rather have another go with the wolfos.”

“Link,” Ravio breathed.

“Hm? Oh- hey, wait!” Link called as Ravio dashed off to the nearest cell.

He went from cell to cell, giving each the briefest glance possible to confirm they were empty. He never considered himself a religious man, or at least one who actively worshiped the Goddess. Faith was for those who still held hope that things would get better on their own. He was far from believing in divine intervention, especially not invoked by his own hand. Despite this, he found himself pleading to Lolia to please, let him be somewhere else. Somewhere other than this horrible cesspool of a prison.

“Link?” His wobbling voice bounced off the stone and danced around his ears. “Link, it's Ravio. Can you hear me?”

An agitated pause. Ravio licked his lips anxiously. Maybe there was hope. Maybe they misjudged and this was the wrong chamber. Legend would be somewhere clean, humane, and maybe even comfortable. He almost sent a prayer of thanks to the Goddess when a weak, piteous moan destroyed his optimism.

Link (this was about to get confusing, very quickly) caught up. “He's upstairs,” he said seriously. 

That was all he needed. Ravio ran for the stairs, Link close at his heels. He nearly tripped multiple times and even stepped in a puddle once. Still, the icy water couldn't hope to compare to how his blood ran cold with dread. Hilda had told him to be prepared for the worst sights, and Impa had been far too ready to provide vivid descriptions of torture, druggings, and- ohh, he was going to be sick. His own paranoia made him lightheaded. 

“Ravio-” Link puffed. “Ravio, you have to remember-”

“I know,” Ravio replied tightly.

“We don't know what's up there,” Link insisted. “You can't do anything rash, alright? Stick to the plan. Whatever happens, don't…”

Ravio froze. Link trailed off, following his eyes until his own rested on the slumped form two cells down. It watched them, wary but unmoving. Like a prey animal that had already accepted its demise.

“Link?” Ravio asked shakily, fearing the response.

The figure hesitated. Then came the hoarse reply: “Rav..?”

“Lolia,” Ravio swore under his breath.

He was there within seconds. Legend sat up, slowly, with a grimace. His chains clinked as he shifted, and Ravio couldn't help but notice how well-oiled and shiny they were compared to the despondency of the rest of the cell. Anger swelled in his chest. He cursed the Shadow, and the monsters who did this to him. He cursed Lolia; and, while he was at it, he cursed Hyrule's goddess Hylia as well. How could she let this happen to her chosen hero?

“Ravio,” Link said abruptly. “The portal.”

“Right!” He dug into his satchel until his fingers bumped against the jagged shard of metal. He lifted it out and gingerly set it on the floor.

The sound of chains shifting caught his attention. He glanced over. Legend had moved into the light, and oh- it was worse than Ravio could have ever imagined. He was covered head to toe in gashes and bruises. Many of his wounds were red and swollen from infection. His wrists were wrapped in harsh burns. Worst of all, though, were his eyes. His eyes were heavy but dark from too many sleepless nights. They carried so much distrust and uncertainty, but within that a small glimmer of hope that was too hesitant, too weary. Ravio's heart never ached so painfully before. 

Legend reached his hand out between the bars, his fingers shaking with miniscule tremors. The flesh on the top of his hand had been shredded and torn thoroughly, and only on that hand. Ravio had only a heartbeat to feel a flicker of confusion before Legend’s fingers touched his cheek, brushing his skin lightly.

“It- It is you,” he croaked. “I-I thought they had drugged me again. Ravio, I-”

“Shhh,” Ravio hushed softly, gently holding his battered hand. He gripped Ravio’s own tightly, like a man drowning. “Save your strength. We’re getting you out of this place.”

“Ravio, I lost it,” Legend said hoarsely, squeezing his hand. “I tried to hide it, but they took it. They took your bracelet, too-”

“Breathe, Link,” Ravio soothed best he could. “What did you lose?”

Those were definitely tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over at the slightest provocation. “The ring,” he whispered. “I lost our ring.” He hung his head shamefully. “I’m sorry, Ravio.”

Ravio’s heart shattered. He shook his head violently, cupping Legend’s face with his hands. “No,” he said sternly. “No, Link, look at me- It's not important. It's just a dumb piece of metal. It's not important.”

Legend's expression was so pained it had Ravio’s eyes stinging as well. He forcefully swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Keep it together, you stupid rabbit, he scolded himself. He doesn't need you breaking down too.

“It's more than that,” Legend mumbled. He looked like he was about to say something else, but a bout of coughing attacked Ravio's ears instead. He groaned, his breath rattling in his chest.

“The portal's ready.” Link approached from behind Ravio, and Ravio didn't miss how he had unsheathed his sword, standing protectively over the two of them. “The keys will be here soon.”

“Thank you,” Ravio said genuinely. Link nodded in return. 

Legend’s eyes flickered in suspicion. “Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is Link.” Link lifted his hat in a polite greeting. “But you can call me Spirit.”

Thank the Triforce he had a name ready. However, Legend didn’t share his welcoming attitude. “There’s another one?” he remarked incredulously.

Link- Spirit- grinned at that. “Seems like it.”

Legend snorted, which encouraged another coughing fit. “Delightful,” he grumbled.

While Ravio was glad to see some of his usual sarcasm show through, he was concerned for the younger hero. He didn’t want him hurt or put down by Legend’s gruff exterior, but it seemed he didn’t need to worry. Either Spirit (This is going to take some getting used to) hadn’t detected the edge in his words, or he was simply being a good sport.

It was probably the former.

Ravio didn’t have time to elaborate on the thought. Without warning, an invisible finger traced a circle in the ground by Link- blast it, Spirit! Startled, Spirit leaped back as the circle developed a waterlike film over the center. Ravio only stood when the portal spat out Shadow- and only Shadow.

Shadow hung in the air, his lip curled as he hurled an explosive back down through the portal. A muffled boom and a warped chorus of shrieking answered him.

“Hey!” he snapped. “Is this a rescue team or a statuary?! Shut it now!”

“Where’s Zelda?” Spirit demanded, the color drained from his face.

“She’s fine!” Shadow snarled. “Leave that open and we won’t be!”

To highlight his point, a large, meaty hand reached from the open gateway, swiping at Shadow’s feet. He drew his bloodstained sword without hesitation and thrust the blade through the monster’s muscle. He yanked it out ruthlessly and kicked the hand back down. Ravio quickly snatched the piece of the Master Sword off of the floor, which caused the portal to seal closed. Shadow huffed and spat at where the portal once sat.

“Where is she?” Spirit shouted, accusation evident in his tone. “You left her with those monsters, didn’t you?”

“Cool it, train boy!” Shadow bared his teeth, exposing dark tips that made Ravio flinch. Had- Had he bitten a monster? “She told me to. Listen, I don’t like it any more than you do, but loverboy over here-” he jerked his head at an affronted Legend- “is critical to our plan. She…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, tipped his chin defensively, and finished, “...is not.”

“WHAT?!” Spirit nearly threw himself at Shadow, who made no move to defend himself. Alarmed, Ravio had to act quickly. He stepped between the two and held the younger back. Spirit yelled at him now, saying, “Let me go, Ravio!”

“I can’t do that, Link,” Ravio said through gritted teeth. “You’re not thinking clearly!”

“Coward! Let me go!”

Ravio winced. He had to admit, it had been a long time since that word had any bite to it, but this time, it wasn’t the word that hurt, but the mouth that spoke it. He held fast anyway. He didn’t mean it, right? “If Shadow says it’s a death trap to go back, then we can’t go back, but Link, listen to me! You have to trust her!”

Spirit stopped struggling, his hands dropping to his sides. Tentatively, Ravio let go. He took a step back, and relaxed when he saw no signs of aggression. 

Spirit lifted pleading eyes to Shadow’s. “Please tell me she'll be okay,” he begged.

Shadow nodded cautiously. “She's more capable than all of us combined,” he assured. “She cut down the most massive Hinox I had ever seen with just her sword.” A tiny smile twitched at his lips. “I'm more worried for the monsters than her.”

Spirit mulled that over in his head. Ravio knew how little he trusted the darkling, even after all this time.

“Trust her,” Ravio repeated.

That seemed to work. Spirit glanced his way, then nodded. Not at Shadow, but at him. “Let's hurry, then. The faster we get him out, the less time she's in danger.”

Ravio winced and threw Shadow an apologetic look. The other man simply shrugged indifferently, as if to say, “What can you do?” He unhooked a ring of keys from his belt and said, “What do I shove these into?”

Ravio gestured to the lock on the door, wringing his hands restlessly. He made quick work of it, allowing the cell door to creak open. Ravio rushed in, dropped to his knees, and wrapped his lover in a tender embrace. Legend grunted, but otherwise did not protest. Instead, he lay his head limply on Ravio's shoulder, exhaling deeply.

“I'm sorry we didn't come for you sooner,” he whispered into his hair. “I'm so sorry, Link.”

“Don't…” Legend rasped. “Don't apologize. Just… don't.”

“Hate to interrupt,” Shadow said loudly, “but I have to get between the two of you to release ‘Mister Hero’ here.”

Ravio hastily released Legend, who frowned at Shadow, then at him. Shadow took his place and began unlocking the shackles. Legend continued to stare at him, not at all subtle in his careful assessment. In turn, Shadow winked. Legend looked scandalized.

Shadow stood, and Legend shook the chains off his wrists. Shadow dropped into an exaggerated bow, smirking. “He's all yours.”

Ravio blushed, but knelt before the Hylian once again. Legend's brows furrowed, still glaring at Shadow. “Say his name is Link and I'm punting him into the Sacred Realm,” he warned.

“Ha!” Shadow snickered. “Believe me, I would've done that myself if I was anything like you twinks.” An ironic statement, considering he was the smallest of them all. “No, I'm Shadow. Not the Shadow. Just Shadow. No relation, by the way.”

Legend regarded him with even more suspicion, if possible. Ravio decided this was the perfect time to change the subject. “Can you walk?” he asked.

“Does it look like I've tried?” he retorted. There was an instant flicker of guilt in his worn eyes, and he stared at the ground. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, you're okay.” Ravio smiled softly, brushing his bangs out of his face and tipping his chin up. “It's not your fault.”

“Hurry it up, you two,” Shadow called irritably.

Legend scowled. Ravio distracted him with an outstretched hand. His heavily lidded eyes softened as he clasped his own hand around Ravio's. With a grunt, Ravio pulled him to his feet, which immediately gave out beneath him. Ravio dipped down and caught him before he could fall. 

“Oof- I don't think I can walk, Rav,” he chuckled ruefully. 

“I'll carry you,” Ravio suggested.

Legend looked dubiously at him, his legs visibly quaking despite being held up by Ravio. “Are you sure?”

“No offense, Link, but you're practically a skeleton,” he pointed out. “I think I can handle it. Now, hold on.”

Granted, Ravio himself was somewhat doubtful, mostly because of his own lack of confidence, but he had to pretend he had it. For Legend's sake. So, he scooped his frail body into his arms and hefted him up. He admittedly stumbled once or twice, but Legend was still shockingly light. He felt another pain in his stomach.

“Ready? Good, can we move?” Shadow said impatiently. 

“What's up with you?” Spirit folded his arms.

“In case you hadn't noticed,” Shadow snapped, “Zelda and I weren't exactly making friends-”

“‘Zelda’? What happened to the little nickname you gave her?” Spirit scoffed.

Where had that come from? Ravio widened his eyes, taken aback by the aggression in the young hero's voice. “Guys?” he said timidly.

“Excuse me if I don't see the relevance of Spectre's nickname,” Shadow snarked, his cap lashing like a cat’s tail. “As I was saying, Zelda and I-”

“You wouldn't have to if you hadn't left her to fight a horde of monsters on her own!”

“Would you let me finish my d— sentence?!” Shadow shot up into the air, looming above Spirit, his red eyes flashing menacingly.

Spirit jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “Not if you keep acting like an arrogant hog!” he spat.

Oh, dear. There was way more tension between these two than Ravio had thought. 

“Really? You're the one who can't comprehend the fact that Zelda can be friends with someone other than you!”

He was going to have to be the adult here, wasn't he?

Spirit laughed bitterly, the sound devoid of humor. “You would think that I have a problem with her making friends. No, I have a problem with narcissistic, manipulative, self-serving liars like-”

“Shut UP!” Ravio exploded. “Just shut up, both of you!”

The dungeon fell abruptly silent. 

Ravio's ears flicked back. He chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously. 

Then, slowly, Shadow lowered his feet to the ground. Spirit let his sword fall to his side. They watched him, likely startled that such an exclamation could come from one so emphatically against conflict. To be fair, Ravio was surprised with himself as well. 

He waited until all hostility was gone from the two of them before speaking. “Shadow, tell us what you were trying to say.”

Shadow opened his mouth, but Ravio interrupted him, adding, “And no witty quips. Or passive-aggressive comments.”

Shadow gave him a flat look. In an even flatter tone, he said, “Zelda and I didn't make it to the Traveler. We were intercepted by a squad of the Shadow's underlings- which, by the way, were poorly chosen. Personally, I would have gone with something quicker. Lizalfos would've had a much easier time; besides, they have more style than Hinox-”

“So we need to find Hyrule ourselves,” Ravio concluded, ignoring how Legend stiffened in his arms.

“Well, yes,” Shadow conceded, somewhat miffed at being cut off for the third time. “But there's more. It wasn't just chance that a fully armed attack team was just wandering around where we happened to be at the time. There has to be a reason why, and I can only think of two.”

“Spit it out,” Spirit muttered.

Shadow, thankfully, pretended to be deaf. “One:” he announced, holding up a finger, “our information was wrong and they're more heavily armed than we thought. Two, which I believe to be more plausible: the Shadow knew we were coming.”

Ravio sucked in a breath. “So, what you're saying is-”

“We're about to have a whole lotta monsters on our hands.” Shadow glanced at Legend. “And something tells me they're not here for a civil discussion over tea and biscuits.”

“Really,” Spirit said dryly.

“Lay off, Spirit,” Ravio chided. He likely didn't look very intimidating, considering how pale he was. He really shouldn't be the leader here. Where was Hilda when you needed her? “Do you have a defense plan?”

“Other than run with our tails between our legs?” Shadow said wryly. “Nothing.”

“It's an idea,” Ravio sighed, only a little sarcastic. “Escape plans?”

“Hide until Aurora calls us all to rendezvous.”

“How high are our chances of Spectre getting to Hyrule?”

Shadow looked at Spirit and exhaled deeply. “Look,” he started. “I have no doubt that she can scrape through alive. But alive with the Traveler? No chance. She won't have time.”

Ravio sighed again. “You're really great at having a positive outlook, aren't you?”

“Glad I could help.”

He wrinkled his nose, but continued. “What about us?”

“What?”

“What are our chances of reaching Hyrule?”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Depends on what your husband knows.”

Legend stilled. Ravio gazed with concern down at his lover, who had squeezed his eyes shut, as if to hide from the world.

Ravio was torn. They were probably Rulie’s only hope of escape, but he hesitated to ask. Legend looked close to tears again. He opened his mouth, but to his surprise, Legend spoke. 

“They moved him about a week ago,” he said. His voice was hoarse again. “He'll be somewhere cleaner. To- To keep him healthy.”

The way his voice broke didn't exactly put any of them at ease. Shadow's jaw was tense and his skin looked more gray than Lolian brown. “That's quite a lot of positivity, Sunshine.” He licked dry lips. “Don't overdo it, now.”

“Wait, hold on a minute- What do you mean ‘keep him healthy’?” Spirit asked apprehensively. 

Ravio wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but before either could respond, Shadow's ears pinned back against his head. Without warning, the darkling pounced at Spirit and threw him to the ground, shouting, “Get down!”

Twin fireballs of blue and orange hues whizzed over their heads. Ravio ducked in the nick of time, the blue one just grazing his hair. Chills scrambled down his spine as he whipped around.

Spirit tossed Shadow aside with a growl. He jumped to his feet and froze. Before his eyes floated a large bat-like monster with a flat snout and rings around its intelligent eyes. And it was swelling. Fast. Great Goddess, did this thing even have a skeleton?

“Look out!” Shadow hollered.

Spirit let out a string of colorful curses that would've made Tetra proud and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature's breath, which of course had to be fire. Why did it always have to be fire?

The flames singed the end of Shadow’s cap. He rolled to put it out and drew his sword in a fluid motion while Spirit, for some odd reason, pulled his boomerang from his pouch.

“I killed you!” he shouted furiously. “What’re you doing here?”

“You know this charming fellow?” Ravio gasped.

“Unfortunately.” Spirit grimaced. “Real pain in the- Shadow, duck!”

Shadow leaped into the air. Blue fire shot from underneath him. The bat screeched.

“What do we do?”

“That's the best question anyone's ever asked today!” Spirit snorted.

The cogs in that head were turning; Ravio could tell. He took in his surroundings in less than a second and dropped to his knees. He began rifling through his pack. “Shadow, get cozy. Distract that thing!”

“What?!” The darkling swore through his teeth. “Alone?”

“Exactly! Ravio, take the Vet and get out of here. We'll stall him.”

Shadow turned sharply. He flicked his fingers, tossing something shiny directly at Ravio. It flew through the air and landed awkwardly on Legend's nose.

“Keys!” Shadow yelled. “Go! Find the Traveler!”

“We'll handle this!” Spirit agreed.

Ravio took a step back. He gawked at Spirit. He couldn't deny his overwhelming panic, but he wasn't about to leave them!

“Go!” Shadow commanded, bloodstained teeth glinting in the light of the fire.

He hesitated, afraid. Could he really turn and run, just like that? But then an image of Legend bloodied and motionless presented itself in his mind’s eye, so he turned and fled. 

What could he say? He had always been a coward.

He just had to hope that his family didn't end up the same way.

----

A/N: So, yeah! If you have any questions about my au, feel free to scream at me through my asks or the tags. (Bonus points if you can guess who they’re fighting hehe) Love you all!

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Emotion Sickness (part 2/2)

Part two of my postgame In Stars and Time epilogue! You can read chapter one here.

You’re just polishing off your half of the test pancake when Bonnie says, “So I guess a lot of bad stuff happened.” You choke. "Or else you wouldn't be all messed up and weird now. And all scared and throwing up and things." They pour another pancake, frowning. “...Was anything ever nice?” That startles a laugh out of you. “Almost everything, once.” “Huh?” Oh. “Um. Because you guys were there.” “So then why’d it get bad?” Because I was there, too. “Haha. I guess I had a little too much time on my hands.”

You’re crouched in the bathroom, breathing. Your friends wait outside. They love you. But they don’t know you.

The Change God dances at you from the nearest shelf. There’s no malice in its eyes, only bright, curious interest.

You scrape it off the shelf and close your hands around it.

You don’t stop squeezing till there’s nothing left. No more squeaking, no more squirming. But when you open your fist, it’s not clay squelching between your fingers. It’s blood and splintered bone. You can smell it in the air, a burst of copper on your tongue. Agony. Anguish. Arterial spray.

For a second, you can’t even recognize the body stretched between your palms. Then the picture comes into focus. Bright eyes gone flat and lightless. Stalwart, until they aren’t. Bonnie whimpers and squirms in your hands but their body is broken in too many places and they can’t move, can barely even turn their eyes to stare, beseeching, up at—

You jerk awake.

It isn’t real. It isn’t real. It isn’t real, it isn’t real, it isn’t happening. Technically, it never happened. Bonnie is safe and you’re just being stupid about something that never even really happened.

…You still can’t catch your breath.

You twist out of your bedroll in one angry motion. You’re not going to wake them. You know how to be so so quiet. You just need a look. To see them breathing in, breathing out. Circulating blood and saline. Not smeared across your—

You breathe in and out. You’re fine. Bonnie is fine, they’re fine, you’re fine.

You just need to make sure.

But the second you peer in through the tentflap, Bonnie opens their eyes and looks straight at you.

“…Frin?” they ask blearily.

“…No?”

They sit up a little, squinting through the dark. “Yes it is.”

Well, it was worth a shot. “Yeah.”

“R’you having a nightmare?”

(What.) “Huh? Why would you think that?”

“Everyone keeps talking about it,” Bonnie grumbles. “They think I can’t hear ‘cause I’m sleeping or peeing or something. But it’s not like there’s walls.”

Pfft. Yeah. You can relate. “Sorry I woke you, Bonbon. You can go back to sleep. I’m totally fine, I just, um, got the wrong tent.”

“You don’t have a tent. It’s all full of puke.”

Oh. Right. “That must be why I couldn’t find it.”

Bonnie frowns at you for a moment longer. Then with a sigh, they pull on their hat and slither out of their bedroll.

“What are you—”

“Shh. You’re gonna wake up Belle.”

* * *

A safer distance from the tent, Bonnie eyes you warily. “I’m…”

You brace yourself for the worst.

“…hungry.”

“O-Oh? Right now?”

“Yeah. I’m hungry right now. So I’m gonna make a snack.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yeah. A middle night snack.” They look sideways at you, scuffing their bare feet in the dirt. “I’m pretty hungry, but… I’ll probably make a lot. So you can have some if you want.”

* * *

You’re just polishing off your half of the test pancake when Bonnie says, “So I guess a lot of bad stuff happened.”

You choke.

“Or else you wouldn’t be so messed up and weird now. And all scared and throwing up and things.”

You don’t say anything.

Bonnie pours another pancake, frowning. “...Was anything ever nice?”

That startles a laugh out of you. “Almost everything, once.”

“Huh?”

Oh. “Um. Because you guys were there.”

“So then why’d it get bad?”

Because I was there, too. “Haha. I guess I had a little too much time on my hands.”

“Frin!!”

“What's wrong? Don't have time for my jokes anymore?"

“Frin!!!!”

“Okay, okay! Sorrrry, Bonnie. I didn’t mean to… ‘tick you off.’”

“I’m being serious!!!”

You raise both hands in surrender.

Bonnie pours another two pancakes before they look up at you. “...I know we're not spose to ask about what happened, 'cause you're all messed up and you need time to pro-cess your trauma—”

You try not to grimace.

“—but how come you never tried to tell us? Not me, I mean, I still don’t really get it, but—what about Dile? Dile knows everything about everything. Even time loops, probly.”

“I’d like to know the answer myself,” another voice cuts in. When you whip around, you’re horrified to find Odile emerging from her tent.

“M-Madame!! Sorry, we’ll be quiet, we were just—”

Bonnie points an accusatory finger at you. “He’s dodging the question!!!”

Pffft. “Um. Well. At first, I guess I thought I didn’t need to. Then I thought no one would believe me.” And by the time you knew enough to make them believe you… “Then I just. Couldn’t. I guess I was too scared.”

Bonnie frowns. “But scary stuff is way less scary when you’re not alone.”

“Not of the King. Of—” You look away. “Um. You guys. That you’d find out, and—you’d hate me.”

“Huh??? Why???”

“Because I hid something so important. And—because I knew too much.” You still know too much. You know things about everyone, personal, important things that you aren’t supposed to know, because you broke their trust before they got the chance to tell you. And it is unsettling. You know it is. Whenever you let something slip, everyone looks at you like you’re a monster. Cursed.

“Fascinating,” Odile murmurs. “And horrible, of course. But I can see how it might come to reinforce itself. The longer you remain trapped, the greater the weight of your assumed sins… And so the lie sustains itself.”

Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.

“Well I think that’s stupid,” Bonnie pipes up. “‘Cause the longer you’re stuck with us, the more you’d know us. And the more you’d know we wouldn’t get mad about something dumb like time loops.”

Odile snickers. “Aptly put, Boniface.”

You look down at your hands and see Bonnie smeared across your palms. Pleading, sobbing, choking on blood and fear. “Haha. Maybe.”

Bonnie frowns. “Were you a lot meaner, the other times?”

You shake your head. No. Not meaner.

“Then I think it’s probly fine.”

You can’t help smiling a little. Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that simple? If being mean was the only way to hurt someone.

Bonnie darts another glance at you, looking unusually unsure. “...You said it wasn’t always bad.”

You nod.

“So… what was your favorite part?”

Oh. “Um. You… made my favorite food once. And you taught me how to hug.”

“Uh huh, uh huh! What else!”

Your mouth ticks up. “…Sometimes Isa took me stargazing.”

“Is that right?” Odile asks, looking amused. “I'm amazed he worked up the nerve.”

“Star what-now?”

You almost ruffle their hair. Then you remember that you’re not family anymore. “It just means looking at the sky at night.”

“Huh? But why? It’s so dark!”

Your chest feels cold. “Haha. Yeah. Good point.”

Bonnie chews their lip. You’re worrying them. You adjust your smile a little, try to make it look natural. It doesn’t seem to help.

“...What about the worst part?”

(The crack of your skull on the cobbles. The splintering crunch of tearing cartilage, just before the lights go out. The juddering shock when your blade-tip scrapes against your vertebra. Isa’s face, pale and tearshot, as he tries to push the blood back inside you.

Mira crying while you stand and watch. Bonnie sobbing, snarling, hating you. Your friends bloodied, paralyzed, not ready to give up even after you've already lost. The King extends one colossal arm. His hand closes around—)

You slide one hand under your sleeve, picking idly at the scabs dotting your arms. “People kept trying to give me croissants.”

“Frin!!!!”

“What? It was a truly bread-ful experience for me.”

“You’re so stupid!!!!”

“Hehe. Yeah.”

“Hmph!!” Bonnie huffs. “Have another pancake, stupid Frin. Maybe it’ll help you be less stupid.”

You nod gravely. “We can only hope.”

(...You’re still doing it, aren’t you? Acting. Trying to guess the right answer, the right words in the right order to make them like you. How are you ever going to be free from the script if you can’t stop dragging it behind you?)

“...Frin?”

You yawn and stretch theatrically. “Sorry, Bon. Just a little sleepy.”

When they frown at you, you can see them scanning the shelves in the classroom, and the secret library. Learning what to do with the meat you’ll leave behind. Squeeze Odile into a diamond. Plant Mira under a tree. Isa doesn’t care, he only cares about everyone else. And you—

But they’ll never find out what to do with you. They couldn’t read it even if they tried.

“I expect we could all do with a bit more rest,” Odile agrees, yawning. “Thank you for the snack, Boniface. I imagine we’ll all sleep a little sounder.”

To your surprise, when you turn to walk away, Bonnie catches you by the sleeve. “Will you—um. Do you… want to sleep in the tent? With me and Mira?”

“Aw, Bonnie. Don’t worry. I like sleeping outside.” You did it for years, before the others found you.

“You promise?”

“Super duper promise.”

You are tired. You’ve been tired for 82 bloody deaths. You wanted to sleep so badly, before, but now the prospect feels strangely threatening. Like the past is still the present in your dreams.

You lie down in your bedroll, but you don’t sleep.

You look up at the sky and wish it would rain.

* * *

You are lying in a field. (You are always lying in a field.) Mirabelle leans over you, smiling. “Siffrin! It’s time to wake up!”

You open your eyes.

You are lying in a field. (YOU ARE ALWAYS LYING IN A FIELD.) Mirabelle leans over you, smiling. “Siffrin! How was your nap?”

It's icewater in your veins. A falling star that knocks you clear out of orbit. Back to reality, Siffrin. Back to the stage.

You scramble back on all fours, your pulse pounding in your ears. No, no, no, it isn't fair, it's— You were out! You were supposed to be out! You were supposed to be finished, it was supposed to be over. You dreamed that it was over but it didn’t feel like a dream, it felt so real.

—But of course it wasn’t real. Why would your family come to save you after the things you said? Why would it be over now when it never was before?

You almost laugh. Poor, stupid stardust, who never learns from his mistakes and never ever will. Did you really think that you were free? Really? After all the times you thought you’d got it all figured out? All the times you hoped and hoped and then hated yourself for hoping? You should know better by now. You'll never be free.

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. You can feel your vision going foggy, the light draining from the fringes of the image and you can’t, you—you can’t breathe—

“Siffrin!!” A familiar voice, shrill with panic. Mirabelle. She’s here to wake you up. You’re scaring her. You’re scaring her but you can’t scare her, you can’t screw this up again, you won’t, you—

(Say the line, Siffrin.)

“Hi Mira! Have you thought about doing a sleepover?”

She stumbles back. “I—what?”

(WRONG LINE, STUPID!!! THE OTHER LINE!!!!)

“Th-Th-That sounds like an AMAZING idea, Mira!”

That upsets her even worse. “Siffrin, I… I don’t understand! Are you okay? C-Can you hear me right now?”

(SAY THE LINE, SIFFRIN.) “Have you— H-Have you ever read about the CARROT method? I think it might come in handy!!”

“Siffrin!” she almost shouts. “You’re— What are you… W-Will you try to breathe? Will you try to breathe with me?”

You frown at her. She’s not supposed to say that here. How are you supposed to get to the end if your leads keep going off-script? “I’ll—I’ll—I’ll try not to get self-conscious about breathing. I’ll t-try not to get self-conscious about breathing. I’ll—I’ll try to—”

The rest of your line is drowned out by a terrible rumble of sound. Cataclysmic, like mountains colliding. Like the King’s killing blow. Bright One. Do you remember? Can you say it? Please, please!! You have to say it!!!

You try to say it—

( Y o u   f e e l   s o m e t h i n g   b r e a k. )

Your mind burns. A shatter of searing cold, like icicles splintering inside your skull. You have to say it, you won’t be free till you can say it but you can’t say it, but you have to, but you—

Something cold plinks against your forehead.

It’s so unexpected, so totally unprecedented as to stop you in your tracks. You look up at the sky. It’s torrid gray, thunderheads swollen with potential. Fat with unshed tears.

You tilt your head back to stare. The sky is always clear. It’s always been clear, for as long as you remember. Mild and balmy and totally, inoffensively ignorable. But it doesn’t look that way now. It looks… portentous. Expectant. Like the whole world is holding its breath.

You hold your breath, too.

—The sky splits.

The sky splits not with a bang, but with a whimper. A slow exhale, like letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The clouds carved open, rent asunder. Bleeding out onto the world below. Rain.

You hear laughter, high and wild. It takes you a second to recognize it as your own. When’s the last time you saw rain? You can’t even remember.

“Mira!!!” you shout, hooking an elbow around her shoulders and grinning into her face.

“Y-Yes???”

“It’s raining!!!!”

Her concern finally gives a little. You can see amusement seeping through the cracks, and fondness. “Hehe, um. Yes. I noticed.”

“It’s so loud!!!!!!!”

She’s properly smiling now. “Do you like rain, Siffrin?”

“I DON’T KNOW!!!” you scream into the sky. “I don’t know!! Anything!! About me!!!! But I think I probably do!!!!!!”

The rain is gaining momentum. Huge, fat drops of water soak through your hair, your cloak, your eyepatch. It’s wet and loud and cold and it’s rain! Really rain!!! It’s heavy, it’s dark, you can’t lie to it. It can’t lie to you. It just is.

You stretch out both arms and flop back into the mud, belly-up under the sundered sky. You can’t remember the last time you felt so real.

It’s really coming down. The kind of downpour that makes you feel like you should have learned how to breathe underwater, so heavy-dense that there’s almost more water than air in the air. It beads in your eyelashes, in the creases of your ears. When you grin, you can feel it seep through your teeth. Your cloak is sodden heavy and your hair is one big rat’s nest and it’s new! It’s new!!! The sky was clear for years and years and years of the same blinding pleasant blinding partly-cloudy day, but you’re somewhere else now. You’re somewhere else.

You’re free.

Your vision’s so fogged with rain that you can barely trace the outline of three figures, forging their way across the sea of sky. Isa. Bonnie. Odile. Probably come to see what all the shouting’s about.

“Isa!!!!” you shout, scrambling to your feet, and fling yourself at him. You can see him rock back with the force of it. The hope taking root behind his eyes.

“W-Woah!!” he laughs, wrapping both arms around you before the mud can pull your feet out from under you. “Careful!!!”

You are sooooo~ not interested in being careful. “Isa, Isa, it’s raining!!!!!!!”

He’s already grinning, helpless. “I saw!!!”

“Bonnie!!!!” you bellow, slipping out of his grasp and whipping around to face them. “You wanna see how far I can slide????”

“YES???”

The grass is so slick with mud that you careen at least ten meters, cackling and pinwheeling your arms for balance, before sliding to a halt. “Beat that!”

“You think I can’t???”

“I’d like to see you try!!!”

In the corner of your eye, you’re vaguely aware of Odile, sidling up to Mira. Probably checking in to make sure you didn’t just lose your mind. But you didn’t. It sort of feels like you only just found it.

“Sif!!!” Isa calls, from unexpectedly close behind you. The rain must have swallowed the sound of his approach. You startle, nearly slipping off your feet, but before you can fall Isabeau catches you by the waist and hoists you onto your feet. “You all good, bud?”

You are so, so good. You beam up at him through lashes heavy with rain. “I love you so much.”

Isabeau nearly drops you. “—Um!!!!”

“BONBON!!” you bellow. “I love you so much!!!”

“Yeah, duh, stupid!!!”

“Mira! Odile! I—”

“I believe we’ve got the idea,” Odile says hastily.

Mirabelle looks devastated. “Madame!! I wanted to hear it!!”

“I love you Mira!!!” you shout. “I might love Odile too but I’m not telling!!!”

“Pffft,” Bonnie sputters. “Look at Dile! She’s blushing!!!”

It almost hurts to look. You love them all so much.

“I love you guys so much,” you mumble again. Softer, now. You’re caked in mud from head to toe and you don’t feel even a little bit cold. “Sorry. I just do.”

Two strong arms wind around your chest and hoist you, kicking, clear off the ground.

“Good!!!” Isabeau bellows. “It wouldn’t be fair otherwise!! ‘Cause we already love you too!!!”

You know it isn’t over. Maybe it never will be. Maybe part of you will always be back there, defending your friends, murdering your kin. Fighting for a future that you don’t even want to see. Just like part of you will always be in that Tree, watching and waiting for an ending that you no longer believe in.

But now there’s part of you here, too.

* * *

Bonnie can’t cook that night, because the waterlogged firewood won’t catch. But no one seems to mind. You eat cold leftovers and soggy meat and laugh until you cry.

All night long, it rains and rains and rains.

*

* *

* * *

You are lying in a field. (You are always lying in a field.) Mira leans over you, smiling. “Siffrin! It’s time to wake up!

You open your eye.

[bellofthemeadow]

The Road Ahead - ch 5 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 4.3K

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: An unexpected Sunday morning visit unveils the true meaning of family.

Notes: Hello my lovelies, thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs and comments! I love you all so much <3! Here is new chapter fresh out of the oven, I hope you all enjoy it!! A lovely mix of angst and fluff, exactly as I like it!

Also, I apologize but the next chapter won't come out until later next week as I have some assignments due for the summer semester I am taking at university. After this chapter, I am planning 2 more regular chapters and 1 epilogue.

Let me know what you think, and I hope you are all ready for an extra soft Will Ironhead Miller (Top tier Will Miller imo)

Family

As the door closes behind him, Frankie can hear you sob from inside the house. His first instinct is to turn around, rip the door open, and take you in his arms. He wants to hold you close, apologizes a million more times, and make a thousand promises to you—anything to make you stop crying. He knows he isn't worth your tears. You've always deserved so much more than him. You've given him everything, but all Frankie has given you is pain.

Numbly, Frankie walks toward his truck, his footsteps heavy with all that occurred in the last couple of hours. He mechanically opens the door and sinks into the driver's seat, his gaze fixed ahead toward the house. With tears streaming down his face, he reaches with a trembling hand into his pocket and retrieves his phone, fingers hovering over the familiar buttons.

His heart pounds in his chest as he contemplates dialling the number, knowing that the next few moments could shape the course of his future. The weight of his mistakes and the desire for redemption clash within him, battling for dominance. Taking a deep breath, he musters the courage to press the digits, each number feeling like a heavy decision.

"Catfish? Well, that's a surprise. Good to hear from you, man."

"Pope," he says the name with broken sobs.

"Catfish?! What's going on? Did something happen to the guys?" Pope's voice immediately loses its friendly tone as he switches into military man mode.

Frankie's voice quivers, his words barely holding back the flood of despair that consumes him. "I messed up, Pope," he confesses, his tone broken and defeated. "I messed up big time... with the coke. I couldn't stop myself, no matter how hard I tried. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" His frustration erupts.

Pope's tone softens, carrying a blend of compassion and determination. "Alright, Fish. Take a deep breath. You know I’ve got your back, brother. Tell me everything. We'll figure this out together." His words offer a lifeline, a promise of support amidst the chaos that has engulfed Frankie's life in the past hour.

The weight of his failures hangs heavy in the air as Frankie continues, his voice tinged with remorse. "I promised I'd get better, Pope, but I'm so fucking lost. I've ruined the only good thing in my life, and now I’ve got nothing." The room seems to darken as he confesses his deepest failure, his words laden with self-condemnation, “I don't know what to do Pope. I don't know how to claw my way back from that fucking hole we dug ourselves back there!”

“I know that what happened in Columbia was…” Pope begins empathically, but Frankie cuts him off “FUCK COLUMBIA! It's not just about that. I mean, it is about that, but it's more than that. Her and Ella are the best thing that's happened in my life, and I couldn't talk to her. I was so afraid she'd see me as that... as that monster that I became back there, that I ended up becoming that monster with her. Fuck Pope, I brought Coke into my home. Can you believe that!”  Frankie hits the front dash of his car in anger “I BROUGH COKE into the home where I have a baby. The place my wife made into a home for us. How could I do something like? What is wrong with me?!?!"

Silence greets his outburst. Barely audibly, Pope asks, "Where are you right now?"

“I am in my truck, parked in front of my house.” Frankie's voice trembled with helplessness. "Pope, I don't know what to do," he confides, his words echoing the magnitude of his loss as it engulfed him, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. "Without her and Ella, what am I supposed to do? They are everything to me, my reason for pushing forward. I am nothing without them," Frankie admits, his voice tinged with resignation. The burden of past mistakes, tangled with the relentless hold of addiction and the haunting memories of PTSD, has reduced him to a mere shadow of who he once was.

"I'm just a washed-up coke addict," he confesses, the words carrying a mixture of self-loathing and regret. The image of his own deterioration gnaws at him every day. His grey reflection in the mirror is a constant reminder of the battles he had fought and the battles he had lost. The tendrils of addiction weaved their way into every fibre of his being, leaving him stripped of his former identity.

Pope’s heart breaks, hearing the words of his best friend. His brother. But Santi was always a pragmatic man and effusive shows of emotions were always more of Benny’s realm. "Can you make it to Will? Or Ben.."

"Not Benny."

Tense silence fills the air, "Did something happen?"

"I can't deal with Benny right now, not after... What happened today."

"Alright, are you able to drive yourself to Will?"

"Yes, I should be." Efficient and precise, Frankie resorts to the mode that comes easiest to him.

"Then drive to Will, and I'll meet you there. I'm jumping on the next plane that leaves today

"Pope, wait. What about your girl?"

"Hey, how long have I known you, Catfish?" Pope's voice is filled with unwavering support. "If my brother needs me, I'm going to be there. Besides, most of what happened is my fault. You wouldn't have touched that shit again if it weren't for my dumbass coming up with a shit plan that went to hell."

“Pope, you can't blame yourself for everything. The fuck ups I caused in my marriage and the fucking coke aren’t your fault. Those are my crosses to bear. But I appreciate you being there for me, brother. It means more than you know."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, as Pope takes a deep breath before speaking again. "Listen, Catfish, I can't change what happened, but I can promise you this: we'll do whatever it takes to make things right. We'll find a way to fix this mess, for you, for your lady and for your family. You're not alone in this, brother."

"Pope..."

"Don't say anything. Drive to Will, and I'll see you as soon as I can. Understood?"

"Roger. Pope?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"It's the least I could do. I know how much you love your lady. And you know how it goes with us, we leave no man behind."

1 week later

You had always been more inclined toward solitude. Even as a child, you found solace in playing alone with your dolls in your room, rather than engaging with your siblings. It wasn't as if your brothers had any desire for you to join their activities. With their significant age gap, they viewed you as an everyday nuisance at best or, at worst, the cause of all their problems. Your mother's words still lingered in your mind at times: "Sorry, boys, we can't afford a vacation this summer. Money is tight with the extra kid." "Sorry, boys, you'll have to share a room because your sister is a girl.” “Sorry boys, your sister needs to go on a diet so we can’t have cookies in the house, otherwise she’d pig out on them.” These constant barbs had shaped your life and fueled resentment from your three older brothers. Even to this day, they seldom reached out to you. When you got married to Frankie, the eldest didn't even bother attending, despite RSVPing for his wife and five kids. Your mother simply glanced at you and remarked, "Well, what do you expect? It's just a backyard wedding. No reason for your brother to disrupt his life.”

So yeah, you never minded being on your own. But, as you reflect on your years with Frankie, you realize that you had become unaccustomed to being alone. Although you were physically independent for most of your relationship, mentally and emotionally, Frankie was always there with you, sharing your life in the deepest and most meaningful way. But now, you find yourself truly alone in a way you haven't experienced in a long time. Frankie is not here, and you're uncertain if you should allow him to linger in your emotions. If it weren't for Ella, you don't know how you would cope. You feel like an automaton, mechanically going through each day's motions: waking up, feeding Ella, tending to yourself if time allows, taking Ella next door, going to work, completing your shift, returning home, feeding Ella once more, putting her to bed, pumping milk, squeezing in dinner if you're not dozing off on your feet, taking a shower, and going to bed. Then Ella would surely wake up at least 4 times during the night. As if your peanut could feel your distress and the absence of her father.

You had briefly considered taking a second job after Frankie's departure until you noticed the usual pension deposit from the army. While not a significant amount, it would be sufficient to sustain you and Ella without needing to work two jobs. Tears had welled up as you realized Frankie hadn't cancelled the deposit. Right after that thought, guilt had set in for even entertaining the thought that Frankie would do anything to harm Ella. You tried to convince yourself that Frankie had made that choice for the sake of Ella's well-being and preferred not to let your mind wander into other possibilities. And what they would mean for you and for you-and-Frankie. Better not to dwell on them, you think.

But today was Sunday, a day meant for being at home with Ella. Normally, Frankie would be by your side, flipping pancakes in the kitchen while cradling Ella and singing along to the radio. His singing voice might have been terrible, but you adored it, just like everything else about him. Once again, you suppress the budding regret that has threatened to take root within you multiple times over the past week. You couldn't allow it to grow and taint the decision you had made. It was the right decision—for yourself and for Ella. It was also the right choice for Frankie. He deserved a chance to heal, and you know that you were no longer fit to help him in that journey.

As you held Ella to your chest, she began to fuss. You cooed softly, and miraculously, she settled down, closing her eyes and nuzzling against your upper breast. With a smile, you planted a gentle kiss on her soft, fuzzy head, whispering, "Papa and I love you, my little peanut."

Suddenly, three soft knocks interrupt your tender moment with Ella. Glancing at the clock, it reads 8:15 am. Your heart skips a beat. Frankie? You can’t help but wonder. Carefully, you place Ella in her portable pram and quietly position it next to the couch.

Hurriedly, you make your way to the door and swing it open. "Will? Is everything okay? Is Frankie all right?" you gasp, trying to catch your breath.

Will looks at you with a sad smile. "I'm sorry for disturbing you so early on a Sunday. I don't think we should have this discussion in your doorway. Do you mind if I come in?"

Your grip tightens around the doorknob as anxiety courses through you. "Will, please," you pleaded. Seeing the desperation in your eyes, Will's expression softens. He extends his hand and places it gently on your shoulder. "Fish is okay," he reassures you.

Relieved, you let out a shuddering breath and open the door a bit wider. "Come in," you say softly.

Will steps into your house, and he hesitantly asks, "Should I take off my shoes?"

"It's alright. I need to vacuum later today," you explain awkwardly. Will hums in understanding.

"Would you like coffee?" you offer. "If that's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate it. Thank you."

"It's no trouble. I have a pot going. I always make enough for me and..." You stop yourself, clearing your throat and suppressing your tears. "I always make enough for two."

Will smiles sadly, expressing his thanks once again.

Pouring a second cup of coffee, you join Will at the kitchen counter. After a minute, he speaks up. "Ella seems well," he offers.

"She's doing alright, as best as she can be. She decided to be a little angel this morning, so you chose very well," you reply with a small smile.

"And how is work treating you? Do you need any help around this place? Benny and I could lend a hand if you need anything—mow your lawn or fix screws here and there," Will offered.

"Thank you, Will. That's really kind of you. If something comes up, you'll be the first to know," you respond. A moment passes before you ask, "Is this why you're here, Will?"

Will sighs softly, taking a long sip of his coffee. "I guess there's no beating around the bush. First, I wanted to apologize for Benny's behaviour last time. He was way out of line, putting himself where he shouldn't have. I apologize."

"It's okay. I was angry, but not at you or Benny," you assure him.

"Regardless, this should have been a private conversation, not one held in a bar," Will admits. You fix him with a soft smile. "Thanks, Will."

"I came for two reasons. And, yes, before you ask, both concern Fish," Will begins, his gaze shifting towards Ella, who remains thankfully quiet in her pram. "Fish checked himself into rehab on Friday morning."

A gasp escapes your lips. "He did? By himself?" It was almost hard to believe. The possibility had been discussed before, especially after he lost his license. You had thought that seeking in-care help would be the best course of action. However, Frankie had been resistant, insisting that he could quit on his own. He didn't want to be separated from you, especially during your pregnancy, and felt he couldn't be away from you during such a crucial time. Reluctantly, you accepted his decision, believing it was the right choice since Frankie had managed to stay away from cocaine. Or so you had thought, until a month ago.

"And... is he alright? How was he?" you ask, concern evident in your voice.

Will looks pensive. "It was tough, not gonna lie. Pope flew in from Australia the day after... after the memorial. I think Fish called him. I wasn't there when Pope arrived, but whatever he said, it got through to Fish. The night after the bar, after it all went down, Fish crashed on my couch, and... Look, are you sure you want me to tell you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable or make you feel like any of this is your fault. For what it's worth, I think you showed remarkable patience, more than most people would have. None of what happened was your fault— What happens in the field, when we are out there fighting some enemy, really messes with the best of us. And Fish, well, he was always the most sensitive among us. He never meant, he never wanted to hurt you. But in the end, it happened, and I know he despises himself for it. He used to walk around the base, showing your picture to everyone, telling them how lucky he was to have his soulmate waiting for him at home. And you know… Shit, sorry, I don't mean to make you feel sad."

A small, teary laugh escapes you at Will's words. You reach for a tissue, dabbing at your eyes. "It's okay, Will. I want to know what's happening, for my own peace of mind."

"If you are sure, then alright. But stop me if ever it gets too much. So, when Fish got to my place that night, he must have cried from the moment he stepped into my apartment until Pope arrived. They went for a drive, and when they returned, Fish wasn't crying anymore. He looked me in the eyes and, honestly, that was the most transparent I’ve seen him be in a long time, he said: 'I am checking myself into rehab. I am getting my shit together for Ella and for my wife. That's what matters, nothing else,'" Will recounts.

You gnaw anxiously at your bottom lip, your eyes shifting to Ella. "He really said all that?" you inquire, seeking confirmation.

"Affirmative," Will responds. “You’re such a dork, you know that, Will Miller?” You snort at his overly formal answer.

Will smiles before his gaze turns to a now fussy Ella. "He left you with these as well," he adds, reaching into his old brown leather bag that had been resting at his feet since his arrival. With care, he retrieves an envelope and what appears to be a... recorder? Memories of your university days flood your mind, recalling how you used a similar device to record your professors' voices during lectures. "Those are ancient," you can't help but think, considering how iPhones have now made them somewhat obsolete.

"What's all that?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

"That," Will says, gently pushing the envelope toward you, "is a letter Fish wrote for you. He said you should open it when you feel ready."

You accept the envelope with trembling hands, fixing Will with an uneasy look. "Do you know... Do you know what's in it?" you inquire, seeking any insight Will could provide you with.

"I'm afraid I don't," Will responds with a sincere expression. "Fish wouldn't say. He was really secretive about it. He made me promise not to open it before giving it to you, as if I would do that. He said it's for your eyes only and that you would understand why he wrote to you."

"Frankie and I used to write letters to each other for years," you reveal to Will. "Even when he came back for good, we continued writing letters. It was our way of showing we cared. But we stopped writing them... It must have been around the time we realized I was pregnant with Ella."

"Then maybe Frankie wanted to show you that he still cared," Will cautiously suggests. "Maybe he wants to demonstrate that he wants to move forward, and that letter is the first step."

"Should I open it now?" you ponder aloud.

"Fish was adamant that you open it in your own time. If it takes you a year, he said he'd wait for you," Will explains.

You close your eyes briefly, but Ella's little scream pierces the room's silence, prompting you to rise and gather her in your arms. With a smile, you softly rock her. "Well, someone's a fussy lady," you comment, nuzzling her nose. Then, you turn Ella around to face Will. "Look who's here, peanut! It's your Uncle Will!"

Will smiles warmly as you approach with Ella, who continues to fuss in your arms. He makes some faces at her, and Ella seems enchanted by her handsome uncle. You settle back down in front of him, gently rocking Ella as you resume your conversation.

You gesture toward the other item in front of you and inquire, "What about the recorder?"

Will smiles gently before reaching for it and pressing play. "Hola Estrelita," Frankie's voice resonates from the small device, causing you to freeze in place. "I hope you're being good for your mama. You know how much she loves you. I love you so much, mi corazon. Papa loves you bigger than all the stars in the universe because you are Papa's favourite star!"

Tears stream down your face as Ella's fussing ceases, and she looks at you with curious eyes, as if silently asking, "Papa?"

"Frankie recorded around two hours of his voice on there. He said it was for Ella, so she wouldn't forget his voice while he was at... while he was away," Will explains. "You know how sentimental that old fish can be."

Overwhelmed with emotions, you struggle to find the right words as the recording momentarily stops, then resumes with Frankie's voice saying, "Hey Ella, mi amor..." In a rush, you press the stop button, needing a moment to collect yourself.

"This rehab... How long is it?" you finally manage to ask. "Frankie wouldn't have recorded 2 hours’ worth of content if it were just for a two-week stint, would he?"

Will takes a deliberate sip from his coffee, his gaze thoughtful, before he responds, "It's a four-month program. No outside contact for the first three."

You close your eyes, feeling a surge of anxiety as you tighten your grip on Ella. Sensing your unease, she pouts unhappily in your arms. "Four months? That... That's really long," you express, your voice filled with concern.

"It is," Will acknowledges, his tone understanding. "Frankie wants to make it stick. He doesn't want to half-ass it. When he sees you and Ella again, he wants to be worthy of you both. He wants to be worthy of this family."

"Is that what he told you?" you inquire, searching for clarity.

"His exact words," Will affirms, extending his hands towards you and placing them gently on your forearm. "Look, I know Frankie better than he knows himself. We served together for more than 10 years, and I genuinely consider him as another brother. But as much as I love him, I can see when Frankie is going down the deep end, just like I know you can. I guess we're all guilty of letting Frankie fall too far. We've always been accustomed to Frankie being the quiet, responsible one, so when he can't cope, we don't know how to help. But..."

"Will, please, you and the guys can't carry all that burden. I am his wife," you sniffle, your voice trembling. "I am his wife, and he has never come to me for anything. I thought I could help him heal, but I couldn't. It was my one job as his wife to take care of him. I even told myself that on the day we got married, you know," your voice wavers as you try to steady yourself for Ella's sake. "I told myself, 'You're going to care for that beautiful, kind man and you are going to make a home for him; he's been through enough.' Now tears stream down your face as you try to hide in Ella's tiny neck. "I couldn't help him, Will. I couldn't help him."

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor fills the room as Will makes his way around the table. He sits down next to you, pulling you close and wrapping his strong arm around you. "Come on, honey, let it all out. I'll hold you for as long as you need," Will says gently. And cry you do, releasing the pent-up stress, anger, and sadness of the past months, dissolving into Will's embrace. He remains sturdy, as he always has, holding you tightly while making sure not to disturb Ella, who rests quietly between the two of you. As you cry, Will softly hums, and strokes your upper back. Will has always felt more like a brother to you than your actual brothers. His love and kindness aren't contingent on anything. He is simply kind and understanding and oh-so wise. These days men like him, men who really listen are a rare breed. You know you can cry in front of Will without any judgment. In moments like this, when everything is dark and engulfing, it feels like the most precious gift to be heard and to be seen.

When your tears begin to subside, Will continues quietly. "Fish didn’t talk to you because he loves you," you can’t help but scoff at his words, but Will continues, steadfast as ever. "Now, wait, listen. I'm not saying it's right, or that Fish couldn't have handled things better. What I'm saying is that the things we've seen, the things we've done—it changes a man. The person we become out there, it's not the kind of person we want to bring back home. It's not someone we want to show to the ones we love. And you know Fish, he was never very good with words. But I do know one thing: Frankie loves you more than anything." Will lifts your head gently, meeting your teary eyes. "Fish made a lot of mistakes, and I'm not excusing any of them. It was unfair to us and unfair to you and Ella. But I know Fish, and you know Fish. I'm not saying you have to give him another chance once he's out of rehab.” Will continues

"All I'm saying is that it's really hard for people like us, and I know that even if you can't take him back, he will never regret striving to better himself for your and Ella’s sake" Will assures you. "And know that whatever you decide to do in 4 months, or in 6 months, or in a year, you'll have me and Benny in your corner, alright? We won't let shit go too far this time around. Yes Frankie will have us, but you'll also have us. We'll take care of you, and while Frankie is gone, Benny and I will hold down the fort. You won't be alone in this, I promise you."

His words wrap around you like a comforting embrace, offering solace and support. The weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter knowing that you have Will and Benny by your side. You glance up at Will, gratitude shining through your tear-streaked eyes.

"Thank you, Will," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for being here, for understanding, and for taking care of us. I don't know what we would do without you."

Will's grip tightens around you, his voice filled with sincerity. "You don't have to thank me, sis. We're family, and family looks out for each other. We've got your back, no matter what. We'll weather this together."

As you nestle back into his comforting embrace, a flicker of hope begins to burn within you. Maybe, just maybe, with Will and Benny's support, you can find the strength to face the uncertain future and make the best decisions for yourself, Ella and for Frankie.

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