#Storm 3 Full Burst

[madarashipslicerromancedicer]

He really turned into crows

Nah you ugly

Is Madara gonna have to dice a scarecrow?

Loser finally dodged

What are you doing? Clown behavior?

NOPE BURN

YUM Free Chakra

Very Well. Experience Another Great Majestic Flame Annihilation

Get Out Of My Valley

86

Even better

[plumsaffron]

Nope

Storm 3 Full Burst no hud mod (Put the extracted files in root ns3fb and dlc ns3fb folder)

[all-naruto-polls]

Favorite Naruto Ultimate Ninja Storm Game

Storm, Storm 2, Storm Generations, Storm 3 Full Burst, Storm Revolution, Storm 4

[majin--vegeta]

[pretentious-blonde]

after the storm

pairing: remus x reader

summary: the full moon is looming and remus takes it out on the one person he promised not to.

warnings: smoking, arguments

a/n: this is my first fic ever so please be nice!! if people like it, there might be more <3

The moonlight shone through the thin curtains of your shared flat, the beams from the sky cast pale, silver lines across the dark wooden floor of the apartment. It was a modest space the two of you had saved up for, tucked away behind an alley, just off the main road to quiet the bustling sounds of the city outside. The flat, which was on the smaller side, was home to you both. The original ornate fireplace crackled quietly in the corner, the warm orange glow from the flames it emitted danced across the pale walls. Books that the two of you have collected over the years filled not only the bookcase, but a few had migrated to the shared desk in the corner and coffee table. Their spines old from years of use. The familiar scent of parchment and tea permeated the air, and the smell of herbs drying near the windowsill felt comforting. It all reminded you of him. 

The evening outside was unusually quiet for a night in the city. Cars and passers-by were not as loud as they normally were, instead, there was a silence that felt almost oppressive. Spreading across the shared space. The full moon was due in just a few short days, the weight of that fact hung in the air you both shared. 

Remus sat by the slightly open window, back hunched with a cigarette in hand, staring out at the dark sky above him. The warmth of the fire didn’t quite reach his body, leaving him partially veiled in the shadows surrounding him. His whole posture was tense, his shoulders had turned in on themselves as if he was trying to make himself smaller, as if he could somehow disappear. His brown hair, messy from how many times he had raked his fingers through it, fell into his sunken eyes. 

He has always been on the leaner side, however, the days that lead up to the full moon only helped accentuate his lanky figure. His stress usually makes food seem irrelevant around this time. The faint lines around his mouth and eyes, formed from laughing with you or James or Sirius, were more pronounced. His deep amber eyes looked empty and fatigued, lips dragging once more on the cigarette in his hand, jaw clenching as he exhaled. Holding back words he dare not say. 

You were snuggled into the couch just across the room, your gaze unable to focus on the book in your lap as concern gnawed away inside of you. You were more than familiar with nights like these. The shift in his mood, shutting you out. He became distant as the moon loomed over him, more irritable than usual. The weight of his condition becoming more burdensome, even with you there. Tonight, however, felt different. He felt darker in the way he held himself. His movements were sharper, tighter, you could feel the tension radiating off him much like the fire that was warming your tired body. 

Placing your book down on the coffee table in front of you, standing as you began to approach the boy in the corner, the floor creaked gently as you came closer. He had smoked half a pack just this evening and you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you in his arms. 

“Remus?” You used his full name to get his attention, your voice was filled with a soft tenderness that always seemed to calm him. “Are you alright?”

There was a brief pause as he didn’t respond to you. His eyes were glazed over as he continued to focus on the dark sky outside, his long fingers tapping on the windowsill, a small sign of the restless energy that was threatening to burst through him. When he did finally respond, his voice was low—lower than usual. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath, though the words felt hollow. He stubbed out his cigarette and formed a fist with his hand, the knuckles turning white as he tried to ground himself. “I’m just tired.”

Your eyes softened as you understood, but you knew better than to leave the conversation there. You could see the cloud surrounding him and couldn’t just sit there and pretend that nothing was wrong. Taking a tentative step further, glancing down at your sock-clad feet, feeling the warmth of the fire on your back as you moved closer. “Rem,” you began gently, “I know the full moon is in a few days, do you want to talk?”

Remus’s gaze finally tore away from beyond the window, his dark eyes now locking on yours. You could fully see the damage the stress had done to him. The shadows under his eyes made him look older, more worn than a boy in their twenties should be. His lips parted as if he wanted to respond to you, but they soon shut as he shook his head from frustration. 

“No,” he said sharply. His eyes flickered with irritation that you knew he wasn’t trying to direct at you. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

The silence that followed was more unbearable than the previous one, his sharp words pressed down on the both of you. Your heart clenched in your chest, but you, being ever stubborn, refused to back down when he looked like this. You knew it was not in his nature to be cruel, the sweet boy that captured your heart all those years ago, but his tone hurt all the same. Ever the martyr, he tended to shut people out, even those who cared for him. He had built walls around himself for protection, rightfully so, but the isolation you felt was becoming too much to bear. 

Taking a deep breath as you nervously clenched your hands at your sides. “Remus, you can’t keep treating yourself this way,” you tell him, keeping your voice firm but caring, but Remus could hear the tremor of hurt beneath your facade. “I know what you’re going through and that you’re hurting, but I’m trying to help. Please, don’t push me away.”

He scoffed and the sound felt cold and bitter, he finally stood up. He towered over you as he shut the window, his tall frame pulling away from yours as he paced over to the living room, running his hand once again through his hair in frustration. “Push you away?” He repeated your question sarcastically. “I should have done that years ago.”

He spun his body around to fully face you, his eyes blazing with so many emotions it was hard to pin one down. It was frightening. He had never frightened you before, not like this. 

“You really don’t get it,” his voice lacking all the usual tenderness it had when talking to you. “Living like this, every month, turning into this—this monster. I can’t—I shouldn’t—have to put you in danger because of me.”

His words stung deep as you try not to flinch backwards. “I’m not scared of you,” you insist, keeping your voice level so as to not match his rising tone. “We have been over this. I know you—the real you—you should know better than anyone that I’m not going anywhere.”

“Have you ever thought that you should be scared?” He snapped back at you, his voice filled with panic and self-loathing. “You think you know what it’s like, and that’s the problem. You think you do but you don’t. You’ve never seen me—what I become—you haven’t seen what I am capable of.”

Your features softened as your frustration turned into sympathy, but you refused to allow him to shut you out more. “I know you’re not a monster,” you say truthfully, voice firm. “You are kind, kinder than anyone I have met before, strong too. This part of you doesn’t change that.”

He barked out a sharp laugh, one filled with no humour as he shook his head back and forth. “Of course, you say that now,” he muttered under his breath. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw what I turn into. One day, I will lose control, and you will despise everything you think you know about me.”

The words hit you like a blow to the stomach, you knew he was spiralling and your demeanour faltered slightly. You could feel the raw pain behind his outburst, the fear that had been eating this boy alive for years at this point. You refused to join him in being afraid, not allowing him to shove you aside. 

“Rem,” you said lowly, voice determined. “I know you’re scared. I know you think you are protecting me by lashing out like this, but ultimately, this is my decision. I am here because I love you. Every part of you.”

His expression twisted painfully into one of disbelief. “Love me huh?” He asked. “You don’t even know every part of me. Not really. All you see if the version of me that I let you see. The one who tries to act normal, to convince everyone that everything is fine when really that is the furthest from the truth.

“Do you understand what is it like to live in fear of hurting someone you love? To be terrified of yourself? I know you can just pretend that everything is fine, but—fuck—I can’t” His voice rang out through the room, now still with the implication of his words. 

You stood frozen in place, the weight of his confession hitting you with the intensity of a steam train. You both didn’t speak for a while and you felt your throat tighten, your waterline burned with tears that threatened to spill. The warmth from the fire did nothing to alleviate the coldness you felt from him now, the distance between you felt greater than just a few feet. 

How many times have you held him whilst he struggled with his condition, picking up the pieces it left when it tore at him from the inside? This uncensored anger, brutal honesty, was new. The more you stared at him, the more you saw the scared boy that you fell for back in school. You couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“I…” you began to say, unwilling to raise your voice above a whisper, in fear you would break down in tears. “I can’t be around you right now.”

Remus’ eyes widened slightly at the words that left your mouth, as if that response was unwarranted after his outburst. He wanted nothing more than to take it all back, but something held him back from speaking anything else. 

You shook your head as the ache in your chest continued to grow. You wanted nothing more than to be there for him and expected nothing in return, but the pain of his words was too fresh to do any of that now, too overwhelming. You still loved him, but you couldn’t show it well right now. Not when every fibre of your being was screaming with hurt. 

“I just… I need some time alone,” you turn away swiftly, not allowing him to see the tears fall. 

You quickly retreated to your shared bedroom and softly shut the door behind you. The click of the handle sounded so much heavier than usual, the catalyst that broke the dam. Silent tears slipped down your face as you leaned on the frame for support, Your hand covered your mouth so as to not allow him to hear the effect his words had on you. Trying to catch your breath and calm down.  

In the room just across from you, the soft crackle of the fire was the only sound that remained. Remus stood in the centre of the living room, aching as he looked at the door you had just shut. Locking him out. The realisation began to sink in, slowly, painfully. More painful than any transformation he had felt before. His body was cold, he felt hollow. 

His fingers trembled as he combed them through his hair for the hundredth time that evening, guilt shattering through his frame and completely drowning out the last of his anger. He pushed you too far. Way too far. He didn’t mean anything he said, none of it. The one person who had always stood by him though everything was now hiding from him. The thought of it made his stomach churn. 

He allowed his eyes to wander to the couch where you once sat, the soft cushions piled up to hold you comfortably, something he should have been doing. He glanced over to the bedroom. There was no way you would want to see him after tonight, let alone share the bed with him. 

With a defeated sigh, he sunk down onto the couch, catching his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. The shadows from the fire danced around his vision as he stared at the floor, mocking him as his mind reeled. 

•••

The morning light shone through the curtains he forgot to close last night. The sky was dim and muted, stereotypical of the English weather, making the apartment feel even more depressing than he felt. The dying embers of the fire drowned out the sounds of the city waking up outside, he tried to get his mind to focus on something—anything—that wasn’t the previous evening. 

He groaned as he shifted uncomfortably, his tall frame stiff from the hours of not sleeping on the couch. He welcomed the ache, a self-inflicted punishment of sorts, one he deserved. His mind continued to race, he didn’t need to look at his watch to know that it was early, way too early. But he couldn’t bear to lie there any longer. 

Eyes looking over to the bedroom door that was still shut. The urge to simply go over there and open it, to fix things, was overwhelming, but how could he just barge in? Especially after what transpired. The hurt look on your face was burned on the back of his eyelids, something he never wanted to see again. Ever. 

He sighed and decided to stand, making his way to the kitchen fully on autopilot. His fingers shook slightly as he picked up the kettle, holding it under the tap to fill it up, the sound of it bubbling to life filling the silence. His mind flicking through everything he could say to you. 

He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, like you were a burden to him. 

The kettle began to whistle as he opened the cupboard for the tea bags, the familiarity of his actions helped him ground himself as he prepared the tea, just the way you liked it. It was a small gesture, nowhere near as big as it should have been, but it was all he could think to do. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it could be a start. A pathetic attempt at an apology, but hopefully, it would show he wasn’t trying to run away again. 

He poured the tea into two cups, he selected your favourite one too. One he picked up for you in one of the old antique shops in Diagon Alley, you refused to drink out of anything else for a week. For a brief moment, he paused, staring down at the steam as it slowly rose from the mugs. The anxiety shot through him and everything inside was telling him to leave the tea on the counter and walk away. But he couldn’t. Not to you. You needed him as much as he needed you and even his fear couldn’t keep him away. 

His breath shook as he inhaled, picking up both mugs as he made his way to the shared bedroom. He pushed down on the handle with his elbow and winced at the creak of the door as it opened, stepping inside as quietly as he could manage. 

The room was perfectly still, the same soft light from the morning cast gentle shadows across the bed you were huddled up in. His eyes fell to your sleeping figure and his chest clenched. You were fast asleep still, engulfed in the large blanket, but even as you slept, he could see the clear evidence of the night before—the faint tear stains that marked your cheeks, brow still visibly tense. 

Remus almost dropped the cups in his hands, breath catching in his throat. He caused this. Made you cry. The guilt was overwhelming, suffocating him, it wrapped around his chest as breathing became more strenuous. If he hated himself yesterday, he loathed himself now, forced to face the consequences of his own fear. Drove away the one person, who only ever asked him to love them. 

Carefully and quietly, he set the two cups down on the cluttered bedside table, hand trembling slightly as he knelt down next to the bed. His eyes were fixed on your face, the tear tracks were a painful reminder of everything he wished he could take back. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered from beside you, voice barely audible as you slept so close to where he was kneeling. He didn’t know if you could hear him, he didn’t know if it would make a difference, but he needed to say it anyway. Even just for himself. 

His eyes began to burn with the tears that didn’t fall last night as he sat back on his heels, staring at the floor as regret washed over him in waves. In truth, he knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but he wanted—needed to try. Maybe when you woke up, you could talk. Maybe he could try to explain. Maybe you would yell at him. Anything would do, as long as you didn’t walk out that door. 

He remained there, kneeling by your side, watching over you as you slept. Praying for any sign that you might forgive him. He didn’t want to wake you, if you had slept as badly as he did last night, you needed all the rest you could get. He would wait. It was the least he could do. 

You felt yourself drift back to consciousness as the light continued to pour into the room. For a brief moment, everything was still, quiet—until the events of last night came rushing back to you. Unease filled your body and the argument flashed through your mind. How he pushed you away. How he looked at you. 

You blinked slowly, eyes still heavy from the lack of sleep and last night’s tears. You turn your body slightly, and you are face to face with the sight of your boyfriend kneeling by the side of your bed, eyes wide with worry and regret. He looked even worse than yesterday, like he hadn’t slept at all. His dark circles were more prominent and his posture slumped over, like he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up. You felt your throat tighten. 

Brown eyes met yours as he shifted uncomfortably on the floor, body thrumming with nervous energy once again. 

“Hey,” he said softly, testing the waters with a tentative tone, almost breaking. He attempted to give you a weak smile but it fell before it could reach his eyes. “I—I made you some tea.”

You pushed yourself up into a seated position and glanced over at the bedside table, the anxiety increasing as you sat up, pulling the blanket closer to you for comfort. You glance between the tea and Remus, not knowing how to start this conversation just yet, scared of what he might say. 

He seemed to sense the distance between you both. “I…I’m sorry,” he began, his words rushed, as if he was scared you would leave before he had the chance to fully explain himself. “Last night—I didn’t mean any of it. I was out of line, and I—” He took a breath and fiddled with the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m an idiot.”

As he looked at you, you could see the same raw fear that filled his being. “I was angry at myself, not at you. Never at you, darling.” He spilled out, stumbling over his own words. “I shouldn’t have let it come out like that. I’m so so sorry.”

Your heart softened at the familiar pet name that fell from his lips, the usual warmth of his voice was present as he fought through his panic. You wanted to tell him to stop. To slow down. Tell him you weren’t angry. But the nerves that lingered from that evening held you back. You had seen him unsteady before, but not like this. It was jarring to you, to see someone who was usually so composed, so calm, completely unravelling before you. 

Remus reached forward but stopped himself, scared to touch you without permission. His slender hand retreated backwards as your heart broke for him. “Please, dove… don’t—don’t go. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

His voice cracked as he finished his sentence, his whole body rigid as if to prepare himself for the final blow. He wasn't just sorry—he was terrified. Terrified that he allowed himself to ruin everything, that you won’t forgive him, maybe he had pushed you too hard this time. Too hard to bring you back. 

The tension in your chest eased slightly, the pain from last night was now beginning to soften as you saw your sweet boy crumbling just below where you sat. You had always known he carried so much on his shoulders, so much uncertainty, but seeing it so raw—laid bare in front of you—was a different experience entirely. His words no longer hurt you, what did was knowing how much he hated himself for using them. 

“Remus…” you began to speak, voice a little hoarse from the tears last night. 

“I love you,” he blurted out suddenly, desperate to let you know. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I was scared—I was so bloody scared of hurting you I couldn’t realise I was doing it myself. I need you to understand I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you but—Merlin—I can’t bear to lose you.”

He leaned forward, his soft eyes searching your own for any sign you still want him. “Please, darling. Forgive me.”

Your heart constricted tightly in your chest at the sight of the broken boy on your floor, his vulnerability broke the last of your resistance. He was horrified by the thought of you leaving, it was clear it was tearing him apart. 

You sighed gently and took his unstable hand in your own, heartbreaking as you felt his fingers curl desperately around yours. “I forgive you,” you reassure him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean it. You were just scared.”

The relief that washed over Remus’ face was immediate, his body relaxing as he let out a shaky breath. He smiled as he looked over at your two hands intertwined, running his thumb gently over your soft skin. “Thank you,” his voice was still filled with emotion. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

He leaned in closer to you, cupping your face with the same tenderness you were so used to. “I love you, dove,” he tells you honestly, his eyes shining with adoration. “More than anything.”

You both stayed like that for a moment as you let all of the negative emotions leave the room, allowing it to be replaced with a now comforting silence. He made mistakes in the past, far too many to count probably, but he owned them. He was willing to make things right, and that was all you could ask for. 

You allowed yourself to lean back into the pillows behind you, muscles relaxing for the first time today. You glanced down at Remus, his face still a little bit pale, but the nervous energy had seemingly disappeared, now replaced by relief. 

“You know, I expected you to come in here last night, it was terrible. Sulking on the couch might be a new low for you.” You say teasingly, a playful smile now playing on your lips as you test the waters with humour. 

He blicked up at you, caught off guard slightly, but allowed a small smile to grace his features. “Oh, is that right?” He asked with a tired but amused expression. “And what else am I so terrible at, darling?”

You pulled your shoulders up and shrugged, pretending to think deeply for a moment. “Let’s see..brooding? You are certainly a natural at that. And it was a relief that you weren’t there to steal the blanket last night too.”

He lets out a small chuckle, tilting his head to admire your happier expression, something he was unaware that he missed so much. “I’ll have to work on that I suppose,” he replied, although his voice was still laced with concern.

“Are you really alright?” You ask once more, still wanting to help like you did last night. “The moon is full in a few days.”

The brunette’s smile faded ever so slightly as he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted, now feeling better about having this conversation. “I’ve been worried. More than usual, I think.”

You frowned and squeezed his hands once more, silently communicating that you were there for him. “Why don’t you get in, lie here for a while with me? It might help calm you down a bit.” You ask, hoping beyond anything he would say yes. “And since it’s the weekend, we can do whatever you want. Sleep, read, watch a movie…or just stay here, as long as you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He asked as he looked at you with a silent gratitude, followed by a light chuckle. “That sounds dangerous.”

He quickly clambered into the bed beside you, pulling you into his aching arms and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Thank you, darling,” he hummed with satisfaction as you snuggled deeper into his chest.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He pulled you even closer as if you might disappear in a moment. You allowed his body heat to soothe all of the residual emotions you felt last night, melting into his embrace. Leaving only the quiet sounds of your breathing getting heavier as Remus heard you drifting back to sleep, in his arms. Right where you are supposed to be. 

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

Summary: At the Halloween party, you have fun and finally get Joel out of your head. Sure, at least for a few hours, as the night plays a trick on you. WC: 6.1k A/N: Hi! As the tag list has gotten so big (THANK U OMG!!!) and apparently doesn't work too well, I'm not going to use it anymore. From now on, I'll be posting updates through my updates blog! So make sure to follow and turn on notifications <3 love youuu

Saturday, 7 p.m. The evening air carried a quiet sharpness that pricked at the edges of your skin, cool enough to remind you that autumn was in full swing but not so bitter as to warrant more than your tights and boots. You stepped out, the white dress flowing lightly against your thighs, its flared sleeves brushing your arms as you moved. The dark brown corset at your waist felt like a reassuring hand, grounding you, while its lift brought a confidence that hummed softly under your skin. Your boots, stretched to your knees, a quiet defense against the chill creeping in with the fading sunlight.

The door clicked shut behind you, a sound that was at once final and fleeting. You barely had time to register the weight of the evening when the low rumble of Joel’s truck snuck into the quiet, its approach measured, deliberate. You turned, instinctively, just as he stepped out. His movements were unhurried, his gaze low, as though he hadn’t seen you—or as though he was choosing not to. 

The passenger door opened next, and Sarah emerged like a burst of energy, her grin wide and unguarded. She spotted you immediately, her excitement spilling over as she called your name and hurried toward you, her arms flung wide. You caught her easily, her warmth a stark contrast to the crisp air. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice full of a curiosity that felt almost reverent. “You look beautiful.”

You smiled at her, taking in the mismatched charm of her outfit—fluffy bunny slippers peeking out beneath purple pajama pants patterned with white clouds, her coat barely concealing the dark blue long-sleeve shirt underneath. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to a Halloween party.”

Sarah pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “But Halloween was last night. It’s November.”

You laughed softly, the sound slipping past your lips like something you hadn’t meant to reveal. “It’s never too late for a party, is it?”

Before Sarah could reply, Joel’s voice cut through the moment like a taut string snapping.

“Sarah. Home.” His tone was firm, unmistakable, though his face only lingered in the doorway for a second before disappearing inside.

Sarah ignored him with the practiced ease of someone who knew how far she could stretch the tether.

“I hope you saved me something good yesterday,” she said, turning back to you, her eyes alight with the thought of treats.

You smiled, brushing a loose strand of her hair aside. “I’m sure Brenda sent some sweets with your dad.”

“Did she make those cara—”

“Sarah.” Joel’s voice rose again, sharper this time, slicing through her sentence. His figure reappeared in the doorway, framed by the warm light spilling out behind him. His gaze landed on her first, then shifted briefly to you, his frown deepening as if your presence was an unwelcome interruption.

“Home,” he said again, the word heavier this time, a command that carried no room for negotiation.

Sarah turned toward him, her annoyance barely concealed.

“In a second!” she called back, her voice tinged with exasperation. Then, with a glance at you, she rolled her eyes dramatically. You couldn’t help but grin, mirroring her expression in a conspiratorial gesture that only seemed to deepen Joel’s scowl.

“NOW,” he barked, his patience finally unraveling. His presence filled the doorway like a storm cloud, and Sarah, sighing, gave in. 

“Go,” you told her gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. Your voice was quiet, steady, though something in your chest tightened as you spoke. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She nodded, the mischief in her smile dimmed slightly by the weight of her father’s insistence. As she retreated, her steps slow and deliberate, you stayed where you were, watching until the door closed behind her. The ache was subtle but sharp.

You shook the thought from your mind, forcing yourself to let go of the tension Joel's mood had wrapped around you. He wasn’t going to ruin this night—not this one. You tightened your grip on your small purse and started walking toward Travis’s house. Your boots clicked against the pavement with a rhythm that felt too steady for the fluttering nerves you carried.

There was a faint nervousness bubbling under your excitement, a ridiculous thing, really, given that you’d seen Travis just that morning. He’d picked you up to go shopping, laughing at your indecision as you flitted from one idea to the next, caught between wanting something outrageous and something simple. You hadn’t known what to wear for tonight. All you knew was that you wanted to feel good. Pretty, yes. Sexy, definitely. Attractive, for sure. Something about the promise of the evening—the energy it held—made you crave a night where you didn’t have to think too hard, didn’t have to manage the weight of anything heavy. Just a night of effortless fun in good company. 

Travis was exactly the kind of company you needed. Relaxed, thoughtful in that easy way, funny without trying too hard. He knew how to take care of you without making it feel like a burden. When you’d asked for his opinion on a costume, exasperated after hours of fruitless searching, he’d picked up the white dress with an almost boyish confidence. “Victorian pirate,” he’d said with a grin, as if the idea had struck him in the moment. “Or something like that.”

You’d agreed without much thought. The dress was beautiful, and you already had the perfect corset at home to pair it with. It hugged you in all the right places, cinching your waist while lifting your chest just enough to make you feel like the women in those romantic paintings you loved—the ones with soft, curved bodies draped in gauzy fabrics, their skin glowing and inviting. And tonight, you did. The tights and knee-high boots you’d added were practical for the cool night, but they didn’t detract from the overall effect. If anything, they completed it. On the other hand, the corset hugged you the way you imagined the painter’s brush might.

By the time you reached Travis’s door, you felt confident, maybe even a little giddy. You rang the doorbell, the sound breaking the quiet night, and it wasn’t long before the door swung open. Travis stood there, framed by the soft light spilling from his hallway. He looked... well, like something you wouldn’t hesitate to sink your teeth into.

The suit, perfectly tailored, a sharp black with a red tie that caught the light against the pale blue of his shirt. The clear raincoat gave him an edge, its plastic sheen catching and refracting the soft glow from the house behind him. His hair was combed back, deliberate and smooth, and the clench of his jaw softened when he smiled at you.

“What do you think?” he asked, lifting a hand to reveal a plastic axe held loosely in his grip. “I’m Patrick Bateman.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere easy and warm.

“Of course you’re Patrick Bateman,” you said, your smile widening as you stepped inside. Your hand brushed his abdomen lightly as you passed, a touch that felt both casual and charged.

The compliment landed, making Travis pause just long enough to tuck the axe into the pocket of his raincoat. He moved toward you, closing the space between you with an ease that always felt natural. His hand settled at your waist, the leather of your corset soft beneath his fingers.

“Stop it,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in close. “Telling me that and looking this good? Stop it, or I’ll cancel the party and keep you here all night.”

His breath skimmed the edge of your ear, his lips brushing your jawline just enough to leave your skin prickling with anticipation.

“One compliment and you’re ready to throw the whole night away?” you teased, though the slight rasp in your voice betrayed how his closeness was affecting you. You felt his breath near your ear, the briefest graze of his nose against your skin, his lips brushing your jaw. Your pulse quickened. “You’re an easy target, Dunn.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “Only for you,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unguarded in his eyes, something that made the moment feel fragile in a way that was achingly sweet. “But don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

You laughed, leaning into the playful intimacy of it all. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

His lips found yours then, the kiss gentle at first, like he was testing the waters. You leaned in instinctively, wanting more, but before you could deepen it, he pulled away. You bit back a groan of frustration as he grinned, oblivious.

“We’d better go, beautiful,” he said, brushing a hand down your arm as if to soothe you. “People are waiting.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile. With Travis, things were always easy—except, maybe, when you wanted just a little more.

*

2 a.m. The cab door slammed shut with more force than you intended, the sound reverberating in the quiet street. The driver turned sharply, scowling.  

“I-I’m sorry,” you muttered, your words tumbling over each other.  

Travis, a few steps ahead, laughed without looking back, his shoulders shaking slightly. His keys jingled as he fumbled to unlock the door to his townhouse. The sound dragged on endlessly, the alcohol in your veins making the small delay feel monumental. You stood beside him, shifting your weight from one aching foot to the other, the dull throb only partially numbed by the buzz in your head.  

“Almost got it,” Travis mumbled, his focus unwavering despite your impatient sighs. Finally, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open with a triumphant grin.  

You followed him inside, the warmth of his home enveloping you like a soft blanket. Without ceremony, you dropped onto his couch, sinking into its cushions with a relieved groan. Your head lolled back, your body both exhausted and energized, the kind of tension only a night like this could create.  

The evening had been perfect—better than perfect, really. For the first time in months, you’d felt free, truly free, as though the weight of everything that had been haunting you had dissolved into the dark, wine-colored sky.  

The party had been at Renzo’s house, one of Travis’s oldest friends. The place was stunning, a sprawling Mediterranean-style villa that practically glowed against the night. Its white stone façade, crowned with red tiles, looked like it had been plucked from a postcard, while spooky Halloween details added just the right touch of whimsy. Lanterns swayed gently on the porch, casting flickering shadows across life-sized skeletons perched on wicker chairs.  

Inside, the atmosphere was even more enchanting. The main room featured a long wooden table draped in black lace, adorned with candelabras dripping wax, decorative skulls, and bouquets of dried flowers that looked both macabre and elegant. Ceramic plates with dark patterns and gold accents glinted in the candlelight, completing the eerie tableau. Guests milled about in costumes that ranged from impressive to ridiculous, every outfit telling a story.  

You’d met a handful of Travis’s friends, all nice and welcoming. And by the end of the night, Renzo handed out an award for the best costume, which went to his brother Eric for his incredible The Mask ensemble. The details were so perfect, from the prosthetic teeth to the vivid green makeup, that no one could deny it was well-deserved—except Travis, who jokingly accused him of rigging the vote.  

The drinks flowed freely, and you’d had more than enough. By past midnight, your feet ached from dancing, but you didn’t care. The music pulsed, and so did you, your body pressed close to Travis’s. His hands rested on your waist, his touch grounding and electric all at once. For the first time in weeks, your thoughts didn’t drift to the things that usually kept you awake at night. Those dark eyes that haunted you in quiet moments, the ache that twisted your chest when you remembered what you’d tried to forget—they were nowhere to be found.  

Now, on Travis’s couch, you laughed uncontrollably as he struggled to string together a coherent sentence. His head rested lightly against your shoulder, and the sound of his voice, slurred and boyish, made your stomach ache with affection.  

“Whatever, you get what i mean” he said finally, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “God, I shouldn't have had that last drink.”

“Oh, you’re terrible,” you teased, reaching for his tie and pulling him toward you until his eyes met yours. “But I had a beautiful night. Please, let’s make it last.”  

Something shifted in his expression—softened, deepened. He straightened, cupping your face as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was different from anything you’d shared before. It wasn’t cautious or measured, the way Travis usually was. This was eager, unrestrained, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.  

His hands found your legs, lifting them over his lap as he leaned into you. You fell back against the cushions, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your breath hitch. His lips left yours to trail along your neck, leaving a path of heat that made your chest rise and fall unevenly.  

Your fingers tangled in his hair, undoing the careful style he’d worn all evening. He groaned softly at the contact, his face lifting to meet yours again as he kissed you harder, his desire palpable and infectious.  

Your hands moved down to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in a blur of anticipation and urgency. The sound of the clasp coming undone was like a victory bell ringing in your ears.  

But then, suddenly, he froze.  

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice strained as he pulled away, turning his face to the side. “Shit, I’m gonna be sick.”  

You blinked, startled, as he scrambled off the couch and hurried toward the stairs.  

For a moment, you just sat there, propped up on your elbows, your breath coming in uneven bursts. The absurdity of the situation hit you like a wave, and despite yourself, you let out a laugh.

The moment you stood up, your feet wobbled beneath you, betraying the steadiness you were trying to project. The stairs seemed endless, each step doubling before your eyes as if the staircase were playing tricks on you. You gripped the banister tightly, willing yourself not to topple over. The vodka shots coursing through your veins made everything feel both distant and intensely vivid, the sensation disorienting but oddly comforting.  

When you finally reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, the light spilling out in soft, pale streaks. Inside, Travis was hunched over the toilet, his body curled into itself, his face ghostly pale.  

“Oh,” you said softly, unsure what else to offer in the way of comfort. You moved closer, your hand instinctively finding the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the damp hair sticking to his skin. His vulnerability struck something tender in you.  

The sour smell hit you immediately, sharp and invasive, making your stomach churn in protest. But you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on Travis, on the fragility of the moment.  

He groaned softly as his body shuddered, expelling the last traces of that ill-fated drink—the electric blue cocktail he’d downed with so much confidence earlier. You grimaced at the sight but stayed, stroking his back in slow, soothing circles until the worst had passed.  

When he leaned back against the tiled wall, his face glistening with sweat, you reached out to flush the toilet, closing the lid with a gentle finality.  

“God,” he croaked, his voice thin and hoarse. “I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”  

You laughed lightly, kneeling in front of him, your head tilting as you studied his expression. There was a defeated sort of charm in the way he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded, his usual confidence dimmed by the night’s chaos.  

“Not at all,” you replied, your words softened by the alcohol still fogging your mind. Your hand came to rest on his knee, a quiet reassurance. “Tonight’s been perfect.”  

Travis groaned, letting his head loll back against the wall. “My reputation’s in shambles. Now my pretty neighbor thinks I’m a mess.”  

You laughed again, louder this time, your inhibitions dulled enough to find his self-pity endearing. “You think I’m pretty?”  

His eyes stayed closed, but his lips curved into a smile, lazy and unguarded. “Are you kidding? No wonder Joel Miller hates me.”  

Your laugh faltered, the name cutting through the haze of the night like a blade. You blinked slowly, leaning your head against his knee, letting out a sigh that felt too heavy for the moment.  

“Oh, man,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you have to bring him up?”  

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Travis said quickly, his hand falling clumsily to your back. “Now I’ve really screwed up, haven’t I? I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I pre—”  

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice quiet but firm. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, his curious eyes watching you closely now. “Are you feeling better?”  

“Much better,” he said, offering a small, sheepish smile.  

You pushed yourself to your feet, leaning against the sink for balance. He followed your movements, standing slowly and steadying himself with a hand against the wall. Without a word, you leaned your head against his arm, closing your eyes as you listened to the soft rhythm of his breathing.  

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, suspended in the quiet warmth of the moment, but eventually, Travis stirred. He touched your shoulder gently, his other hand extended to help you up.  

Downstairs, you collapsed onto the couch again, the effort of descending the stairs leaving you slightly breathless. Travis returned with a glass of water, holding it out with a knowing look.  

“Drink,” he said simply.  

You obeyed reluctantly, grimacing as you took a few sips. “I’m going to have a huge hangover tomorrow,” you muttered, setting the glass on the coffee table.  

“Me too,” Travis admitted, lying down beside you with a heavy sigh.  

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only three in the morning?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief. “God, I’m old.”  

Travis laughed, his grin lopsided and a little drunk. “I swear I thought it was, like, like five in the morning.”  

You chuckled, but the weight of the night was catching up with you. Your eyes drifted shut, and the world faded into a soft blur.  

When you forced them open again, sometime later, Travis was fast asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even. You sat up, careful not to disturb him, and gently shook his forearm.  

“Hey,” you whispered. “I’m going home.”  

He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes fluttering but refusing to open.

“L-let me walk you home,” he slurred, his head tilting to the side as sleep reclaimed him.  

You smiled at the sight of him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“See ya,” you whispered, the words hanging in the air as you let yourself out.

The cool night air greeted you with a sharpness that cut through the haze of alcohol still coursing through your system. It startled you, a shiver running up your spine as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. You were still drunk, but the world felt steadier now, your feet moving carefully across the pavement as you crossed the quiet street.

In your mind, you conjured the image of your warm bed waiting for you, the soft embrace of your pajamas, and maybe, if you could muster the energy, the luxury of a hot shower. The thought made your body ache for rest, but then you noticed the soreness in your face—a dull reminder of the unrelenting smile you’d worn since you’d said goodbye to Travis.

You were happy. Light. Effervescent, even. The kind of happiness that made you feel untouchable, like nothing could weigh you down.

That feeling lingered as you approached your house, though it faltered slightly when you passed by the Millers’ place. Your eyes were drawn, almost involuntarily, to the living room window. A soft, warm light glowed behind the half-transparent curtains, the kind that could only come from a solitary lamp left on too late. You slowed your steps, your gaze lingering as the sharp memory of Joel’s voice from earlier that evening surfaced.

Authoritative. Abrupt. Unbearable.

The way he’d called Sarah home felt unnecessary, almost punitive. Why had he insisted so forcefully? He didn’t usually mind her spending time with you, so why now? And what if things between you and Joel had soured to the point where he forbade Sarah from seeing you altogether? The thought stung, a sharp contrast to the Joel you used to know—the one who would never have done something like that. You hated that you couldn’t anticipate him anymore. And lately, it seemed like everything about him had shifted, like you were seeing a stranger instead of the man you’d once—

“Are you okay?”

The voice, low and steady, cut through your thoughts, making you jump. You looked up sharply, your heart skipping as your eyes adjusted to the dark porch. Joel was sitting there, barely visible except for the faint gleam of the streetlights reflecting in his eyes like stars as he watched you, his expression unreadable, the faintest hint of concern etched into his features.

You didn’t respond right away. Your brain was scrambling, trying to piece together an answer while simultaneously processing the sight of him. He stood then, stepping into the light just enough for you to see him more clearly—the broad set of his shoulders, the slight furrow in his brow, 

“What... what are you doing here?” you managed finally, your voice wavering slightly.

“Here?” he repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching in what could have been a smile. “I live here. What are you doing here?”

“I live next door,” you shot back, your tone almost defensive. You tilted your head, studying him more closely. “I meant out here. What are you doing outside? It’s late.”

Joel hesitated, his hand brushing the back of his neck in a way that told you he wasn’t going to give you a straight answer. And of course he wouldn't tell you that he'd spent the evening on his couch watching TV, alone, or that he’d been restless all evening.

“It’s Saturday,” he said finally, his voice calm, almost teasing. “Well, Sunday now.”

After having dinner with Sarah, she'd retreated to her room—furious with him for cutting her time with you short—he’d spent the better part of the night sitting on his couch, half-watching some mindless TV show, his attention divided between the screen and the window. Waiting. Then, just as he was beginning to close his eyes, a sharp knock woke him up; the cab door. But of course, he didn't get to see the yellow car because when he got to the window, he only got to make out your body coming through Travis' door, cab long gone. 

When you disappeared inside Travis house, something inside him twisted. Restlessness turned into something heavier, something he couldn’t name, and the next thing he knew, he was on the porch with a beer in his hand, staring out into the night like the answer might appear if he stayed long enough.

You nodded absently, but your eyes betrayed you, roaming over him without restraint. It had been a while since you’d let yourself really look at him. Lately, every glance had been fleeting, clouded with irritation or anger. But now, in the quiet glow of the streetlights, there was no denying it.

He was beautiful. Infuriatingly, achingly beautiful.

Your stomach twisted with the realization, the way it always did when you thought about him for too long. You could try to distract yourself with Travis, with his boyish charm and kind eyes, but it wasn't enough. 

Travis didn’t have those dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to hold every one of your secrets. He didn’t have that nose you loved so much or the lips you’d tasted once and could never forget. His voice wasn’t rough and silken all at once, nor did it carry the weight of every word like Joel’s did.

You hated how much you liked him, how much you wanted him. It was uncomfortable, unbearable, because there was nothing you could do about it. Joel was untouchable now, a door that had been closed and locked a month ago.

“I hate you, Joel,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. They weren’t loud, but they were steady, deliberate.

His smile faded, replaced by a quiet, thoughtful expression. He nodded slightly, as if weighing your words.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice level, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled faintly, almost amused by the softness in his tone. You shifted your weight, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you care about it?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice dipping lower with honesty. “But I know it’s not true.”

"Why do you always say that?" you demanded, voice thick with frustration, your arms crossed so tightly against your chest it felt like you might bruise your own ribs. The alcohol in your bloodstream turned every word into a dare, every thought into an accusation. "'I know it's not true. I know you're lying. I know you don't mean it'. What, are you like this omniscient, all-knowing shit—blah, blah, blah?. Didn't it ever occur to you that maybe you don't know anything at all?"

Joel’s eyes softened, his expression unreadable but intent. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, steady while you felt like you were spinning out of control.

"Lately? Yeah," he said finally, his voice low. "I don’t know anything."

The simplicity of his confession, the quiet honesty of it, made you snort in disbelief. You turned your head to the side, looking anywhere but at him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your thoughts from spilling out unchecked. When you looked back, his eyes weren’t on your face anymore. They’d dropped lower, lingering somewhere around your waist. Probably on your corset, you realized. Suddenly, the fabric felt suffocating. Not painfully tight, but enough to make you aware of every breath you took.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, tone sharp, defensive. And when he didn’t answer, you pressed harder. “What do you want, Joel?”

“Me?” he asked, his voice calm, almost indifferent.

You nodded, daring him to answer.

“I don’t know.” His lips tilted in a faint smirk. “You’re the one standing here in my doorway. Weren’t you just peeking in my window?”

Your mouth fell open. “I wasn’t peeping, dumbass,” you said, fumbling over the words, heat rushing to your face. “I was—”

"Yes, you were," he interrupted smoothly, a trace of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t smug, not really, but it wasn’t innocent either.

God, it was infuriating.

"Ugh," you groaned, the sound dragged out like it could physically push him away. Your arms dropped to your sides, and you turned your face skyward, exasperated. "Were you always this much of an asshole?"

Joel held back a laugh, his head shaking slightly as he raised his eyebrows at you, his silence infuriatingly steady.

"Okay," he said finally. "You’re drunk."

"Yeah, Einstein," you shot back, your voice sharp and your eyes wide as you threw your hands in the air in mock applause. "You’re finally right about something! Everyone, let’s hear it for Joel!"

You clapped for him, slow and exaggerated, addressing an invisible audience. Joel glanced down, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face before he hid it.

That didn’t stop the memory from rising, unbidden: Clara, her hand slipping into his at the barbecue, her laugh bright and flirtatious, her eyes shining with self-satisfaction. It had turned your stomach then, and now the bitterness came rushing back in full force.

"Do you think what you’re doing is right, Joel?" you asked, your tone sharper than before, slicing through the fragile quiet between you.

His brows knit together, confused, and he tilted his head slightly as if to ask what you meant.

"Do you think you’re accomplishing anything by sleeping with the women in this neighborhood?" you continued, your words rushing out faster now. "I mean, first you sleep with me—oh, the worst mistake of your life—then you sleep with Clara. And what about Sienna? What does she think of all this? You’re a selfish, irresponsible man, Joel Miller, so irresponsible." The words kept spilling, your voice trembling now, laced with both anger and something softer, something that felt like pain. "And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve ruined us. Completely. And I hate you for that, Joel. I hate you because you’re not the man I thought you were. And i love you so much I—"

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring the edges of your vision and leaving your cheeks hot.

You hated how raw it all felt. How exposed. And worse, how the alcohol that had loosened your tongue was no longer numbing enough to shield you from the reality of what you’d just said.

Before you could stop him, Joel’s hands came to rest gently on your arms. The warmth of his touch made your stomach flip, and it took everything in you to pull away.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking him off and turning on your heel. But you barely managed two steps before your foot caught awkwardly in front of the other, sending you stumbling.

You yelped as your palm scraped against the ground, but Joel caught your other arm before you could fully collapse. The heat of embarrassment rushed to your face as you stood quickly, brushing off your dress and refusing to look at him.

You marched toward your door with renewed determination, ignoring the sting in your palm and the sound of his voice calling after you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. 

But you didn’t stop. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the key, eyes fixed on the lock as if opening the door quickly enough could make him—and everything you’d just said—disappear.

The key slid into the lock on your first try, a stroke of luck you hadn’t expected. You stumbled inside, not bothering to close the door behind you. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe some buried, foolish part of you wanted him to follow. Whatever the reason, Joel did, shutting the door softly as he stepped in, his footsteps trailing after your clumsy, rushed ascent up the stairs. His hand found your lower back more than once, steadying you whenever your feet betrayed you and your balance faltered.

When you reached your room, his presence pressed down on you, heavy and inescapable. Your chest felt tight, emotions boiling over with an intensity you couldn’t contain. The exhaustion—of everything—clawed at your insides, raw and relentless.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, spinning to face him, your palms colliding with his chest in a sharp slap. The sound echoed between you, loud and angry. You hit him again, this time harder, though he barely moved, only stepping back an inch. “Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re a complete asshole, and I hate you. I hate you so much.” Your fists clenched, pounding against him now, the blows strong but harmless.

Joel didn’t resist. He let your fists land where they would, but then his hands rose, gentle and deliberate, catching your wrists mid-punch. The pressure of his fingers around your forearms was firm but not threatening, as if he was trying to guide the violence out of you without a word.

His stillness broke you more than anything could, and the weight of his quiet left you reeling, unsure of what to say next. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why was he standing there, letting you fall apart?

“Say something!” you cried, your voice cracking, desperate and raw.

But he didn’t. His silence stretched between you, maddening and unbearable.

Your vision blurred as tears spilled over, hot and heavy, the release leaving you shaking. Your sobs filled the room, a sound so guttural it startled even you.

“Why did you have to do this to me?” you demanded, your fists still pressed against his chest, though they no longer moved. Your voice broke entirely now, trembling as you added, “Why do you keep hurting me, Joel, why are you acting like this? What did I do to deserve this from you?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his shoulders sinking as if under the weight of your words. His eyes, glassy and red, shone in the dim light. “I-I’m sorry, I'm sorry” he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. “I’m so sorry. Please… please forgive me. I love you, baby, I love you, I've al—”

“No, you don’t.” You shook your head, your voice trembling as his hands left your wrists and wrapped around you instead, pulling you closer. “You don’t.”

But you didn’t push him away. His arms were warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself fall into them. The pain dulled, just slightly, under his touch. You hated him for it. You hated yourself more for letting it happen.

“Yes, I do,” Joel said, his voice thick with emotion.

You wanted to look up, to see his face, to know if the tears in his voice matched the ones burning in your eyes. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek.

Gently, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed. He set you down softly, his hands brushing against your arms as he pulled away. You sank back into the pillows, your gaze distant, your sobs quieting into sniffles.

Joel knelt at the edge of the bed, his hands moving to unlace your boots. He didn’t look at you, his focus entirely on the task, but his face betrayed him. His eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks damp, his expression taut with pain.

Once the boots were gone, you lay back fully, staring blankly at the ceiling as the room swayed gently around you. Your head throbbed, and your chest ached, but the tears had slowed, leaving behind only exhaustion.

The mattress shifted behind you as Joel settled in beside you. He kept his distance, but you could feel the heat of him near you, the tension in the air, a palpable thing you didn’t know how to navigate. You could still hear his breathing, steady but strained.

When his fingers brushed your waist, you stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking softly. “Let me take that off. It can’t be comfortable, right?”

"No," you answered, and as the corset loosened, you felt a wave of relief rush through you, a softness you hadn’t even realized you needed.

Joel moved the corset off your body in one smooth motion, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Then, he returned to his position, inches away, and for a few minutes, there was nothing but silence between you again.

You closed your eyes, the weight of the night pressing against you, the exhaustion dragging you into a dreamless sleep. But just before you drifted off, you heard your own voice, quiet and pleading.

“Please go home, Joel,” you whispered. “I want to be alone."

He didn’t argue, although you could hear him doubting. Then, you felt him shift behind you, his hand brushing your arm briefly in a gesture that felt almost like goodbye.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice so low it was nearly inaudible.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you exhaled deeply, letting the tears come again, though they felt emptier now, less urgent.

Next door, Joel stepped into his house, the quiet suffocating him as he sank into the couch. The air felt too thick, the walls too close. He pressed his hands to his face, trying to keep himself from falling apart, but it was no use. The despair was overwhelming, a mix of regret, shame, and a self-loathing so profound it left him hollow. And he couldn't help thinking that maybe, it was too late after all. No action or word from him could undo the pain he had seen in your eyes that night.

In the quiet of his own mind, he hated himself more than you ever could. 

-

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[etherealyoungk]

charming stranger | jeon wonwoo

SUMMARY: in which you meet a mysterious and charming man while feeding some stray cats and you can't seem to stop thinking about him (and neither can he)

PAIRING: biker!wonwoo x reader

THEMES: biker au, strangers to lovers, fluff, soft love

WARNINGS: biker wonwoo, tattooed wonwoo, just wonu & reader being down bad for each other

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k

A/N: this is kind of a prequel based on this fic. but it can be read as a standalone as well! just had to indulge in biker wonwoo again <3

you're sitting down at the convenience store, finishing up the last few bites of your ramen. the night is running late and you look outside at the clouds that threaten to burst with rain any minute now. you get up, discarding the empty packets and bowl in the trash can as you walk outside. you walk up the road to a small quiet alley and you can already hear the meows of the cats as you approach. but then you spot a figure standing around the cats and you furrow your brows in confusion.

you'd heard about someone reportedly poisoning cats in the other neighbourhood and you thought that this was what was happening. you don't know what came over you, but you rush up to the man, causing the cats to scatter. "hey! leave them alone!", you yell as you storm up towards the tall stranger and he turns around, confused at the sudden commotion.

"what are you doing? you leave those cats alone, or i'll call the cops! i know what you're doing", you add, holding out your fist in a weak attempt to appear strong, ready to karate chop this man if needed. you can't catch his face well in the dim light, but he was extremely tall and in hindsight, you'd be no match against him.

the man - wonwoo is utterly confused. he was just trying to feed the cats like he always did, but you've come out of nowhere, yelling at him and scaring away the cats. he steps into the light and you finally catch a glimpse of his face. his hair is long and grown into a short shaggy mullet and falls over his forehead as he looks at you, intrigued.

"i think there's been a misunderstanding, i'm just feeding the cats", he tells, his voice deep, cutting through the silence of the night.

"yeah right mister, you better move on or else i'm really calling the cops", you tell, whipping out your phone and dialling the police number, keeping it ready.

you look around and watch the cats slowly move back in, walking towards the man and meowing. a few of them come towards you too, rubbing against your legs as they meow up at you. wonwoo doesn't know if you're serious or you were joking because he stands there frozen, unmoving as he takes you in; your phone out, standing tall with a scowl adorning your face as you try to look scary, but in reality, you just looked cute to him.

"how can you harm those cats, how do you sleep at night?? now seriously move, shoo", you tell, stepping closer as you attempt to make this man go away. wonwoo steps away, quiet and amused at the situation unfolding in front of him. he walks away quietly, confused and he walks back into the shop, not looking back. you bend down and make sure the cats are okay before you give them some kibble.

it starts to rain after a few minutes, the clouds bursting and the rain pouring down in a steady pace. the cats make a run for it and so do you, heading back to the convenience store. you walk inside in a huff when the cashier sees you. just then the man who was outside comes up to the counter. you're about to open your mouth to speak but the cashier speaks first.

"did the cats eat okay? bummer it had to start raining now", the elderly man says as you walk up front. "he feeds them too, every day. those cats really are lucky, getting their bellies full every day", he adds, his head gesturing to the stranger and you blink at the cashier before glancing at the stranger again.

"oh", is all you can say as you realise that you'd falsely accused the man. he really was just trying to feed the cats. "that's nice", you tell through gritted teeth, trying not to look at the man again because you are beyond embarrassed. you would have very much liked to bury yourself in the ground right now.

the stranger pays for his stuff and goes to the other side near the window, placing his stuff on the table. he pulls out a chair and takes a seat as he looks out the window like he's pondering when the rain might stop. wonwoo only spares you a glance after a few seconds, seeing you stand by the cash counter. he doesn't make much of it and leaves as soon as the rain stops a bit.

after a few days, you find yourself at the convenience store again after a long day at work. it's late and you're too tired to even think of cooking. so you grab your favourite ramen from the shelf, along with other snacks. you make your ramen and sit down to eat. you're in the middle of eating when you hear a pair of heavy boots against the tile floor. after a few seconds, you see a figure next to you in your peripheral vision and it's the stranger. he looks at you as he sits on the chair beside you.

"late night?", he asks and you turn to look at him, realising he was talking to you. you nod your head as you chew. you'd think that after what you did, he'd hold a grudge against you but no, he looked...calm. you wordlessly finish eating your food and the man gets up at the same time you do. he heads out and you rush to discard your trash as you run over to catch up to him.

"hey wait!", you call out as you step out of the store. he turns around as you walk up to him. you stand there in front of him for a few awkward seconds before speaking. "i'm sorry about the other day", you say. "that's alright", he says gently and it catches you off guard. he walks off and you watch as he hops onto his bike and rides off.

over the next few days, you can't seem to stop thinking about the mystery man, the charming stranger. you didn't even get his name, yet he seemed to occupy your mind. you were somehow hoping you'd bump into him again,but you didn't - until today.

it's the weekend and you're grocery shopping when you spot the charming stranger in the fresh produce aisle. your jaw almost drops at the sight of him because holy shit. he's clad in black jeans and a black top that seems to hug his figure a little too well, highlighting his biceps and well-built physique. his short sleeves expose his arms and well-built biceps. your eyes trail down to his arm that's adorned with intricate tattoos, each telling a story, making you gasp softly at the sight. his hair is adorably messy and touseled, falling over his forehead and eyes. the cherry on the top is the thin wired glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose, adding to the unexpected charm, and making him look undeniably hot.

you watch as he casually picks out carrots and fuck, you don't think you've ever seen a finer man in your entire life as you continue to stare at him. finally, you tear your eyes away when you realise you've been staring a little too long. slowly, you feel your cheeks heat up at the sudden realisation and you turn around, telling yourself to snap out of it. there was no way you were crushing on the stranger, right?

you walk away and busy yourself with shopping your grocery list. you're trying to reach up to get the big box of cereal but it's too high up on the shelf. with your arm stretched out, you jump a bit and try to reach out for it but you can't. just then a figure comes up behind you, a hand reaching out for the cereal box with ease and you turn around to see the charming stranger in front of you.

"here", he says as he hands you the box of cereal and you take it without a word. up close, he looks even more attractive. your eyes sneak a glance to his tattoos again and you look back up at him, perhaps a little too stunned at the sight of this hot man in front of you. "t-thank you", you stumble out, mentally cringing at how you sounded just now.

"i like that cereal too", he fills in and you can only nod in agreement because he looks so fine, you're actually rendered speechless. wonwoo watches the way your eyes look him up and down, lingering at his tattoos. he was just thinking about you the other day and here you are in front of him, looking nervous.

you both part ways again and you finish billing up your items, carrying your bag and struggling a little because of how heavy the bag is. you walk ahead, hauling up the bag and holding it with both hands as you walk. you turn around the corner but you stop and take a step back, almost losing your balance as you bump into someone. "woah there", a voice says, causing you to turn around as you regain your balance. it was the charming stranger again.

"oh um hi...again", you fumble out, finding yourself nervous all over again. "do you need help, it looks like you're struggling", he says, his hand already reaching out to take the bag from your hands before you could even protest.

"oh, i can manage", you tell, your hands awkwardly folded as you don't know what to do with them now. "you live nearby right?", he prompts and you nod. "great, then i'll walk you home", he fills in and you stand there awestruck for a few seconds before you snap out of it and nod again.

wonwoo really thinks you're scared of him because all you do is nod your head to whatever he says. he was used to getting some weird looks from people, but really, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away.

you stand there for a few seconds in silence as wonwoo looks at you with a small tilt to his head, waiting for you to lead the way. "oh, right, um...", you stutter out and walk ahead, wonwoo follows beside you.

"no bike today?", you finally speak and wonwoo swears his breath catches in his throat when he hears you speak. "no, i decided to give her a break, so i walked here", he replies and you nod. when you turn around by the convenience store, you tell wonwoo that you can walk home from here. you take the bag from his hand, telling him thank you and head your way home. wonwoo really starts to think that you don't like him and it disappoints him a little, because in reality, he's really intrigued by you.

later that week you buy some extra cat food, some for the regular stray cats and you take some home for the pregnant cat you'd rescued a few days back. she's just wandered into your house and was meowing so you took her in. you're sitting on the floor as you watch her eat, and judging from how pregnant she looked, you could tell she was due any day now.

wonwoo hopes to see you again. so, he heads out more in an attempt to bump into you more, either at the grocery store or convenience store. he takes out his bike and waits outside the convenience store that evening, hoping you'd drop by - and you do. you're walking by, completely oblivious to wonwoo as you walk into the store, humming to yourself as you grab some snacks from the shelf. wonwoo gets off his bike and heads inside, making his way towards you.

"hi", he says, his voice deep and you turn around, surprised. "oh, hello", you respond softly at the sight of the charming stranger - yet you still don't know his name. he looks at you with a softened gaze, his hair a cute mess as always (or because he kept running a nervous hand through it).

"i was going to feed the cats today", he adds, trying to make conversation and he sees the small smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. "that's good", you reply as you walk up to the cashier and pay for your stuff. you end up fumbling with your wallet as wonwoo stands behind you and you swear you can hear your heart thumping in your chest. your turn around and walk outside, wonwoo following behind, in hopes he hasn't scared you off again.

"i never got your name", you hear wonwoo speak and you turn around. "i'm yn", you tell and he smiles. "i'm wonwoo", he responds and you nod your head at the information.

"i'll see you around i guess", you tell before giving him a small wave and walking in the direction home.

wonwoo, you repeat the name softly and smile to yourself. you finally had a name for the charming stranger.

that week you end up seeing wonwoo more. you find him at the store, feeding the cats or just in the neighbourhood more often. you'd come to recognise his bike and you'd spot it parked around more often than before. but little did you know wonwoo was only coming out more often to see you. you slowly talk to him more that week and wonwoo is glad that you don't run away from him again. he really wanted to get to know you more. that night as you're picking up some ramen for dinner when you spot wonwoo again.

"another late night?", he asks and you nod. "yeah gosh, i need a break", you mutter out as you contemplate between the two flavours of ramen in your hands.

"which one?", you ask, holding out both options for wonwoo to choose from. he looks between them both before deciding on the spicy cheese one. you pay for the stuff and step out, spotting wonwoo's bike parked outside.

"your bike is cool", you offer as you slow down, turning around, a little shy and nervous. somehow being around wonwoo always made you so nervous. maybe because it was because he was so good-looking, and maybe also because he looked a little intimidating. but you'd come to realise that he was actually the complete opposite. he was so soft, sweet and gentle - and that contrast drew you more into him.

"i can give you a ride on it if you want? drop you home", he asks gently, a little uncertainty laced in his voice. "oh, not that's fine", you tell, shaking your head. to be honest, the thought of riding on his bike scared you a bit. but then you look up at him and his words register in your mind again.

"wait, are you flirting with me?", you ask as you glance up at him, a little confused. he only blinks before a sheepish grin forms. "i've been flirting with you for a week now, thanks for finally noticing", he tells, rubbing the back of his neck as he lets out a nervous chuckle.

"oh", is all you say as you suddenly feel very stupid. this is the reason you were and would remain single you thought. "i should go, it's getting late", you finally speak, bidding wonwoo goodbye as you leave. wonwoo thinks he's messed up and he sighs to himself as he watches you walk away.

two weeks later the cat you've rescued had littered and the kittens were just starting to open their eyes and move around. you'd not seen wonwoo around that much lately and you thought maybe something happened. you'd even asked the cashier at the store but he said he didn't know. you walk out and are about to walk home when you see wonwoo's familiar bike turn around the corner as he zips past you. you watch as he goes and you decide to wait a bit, in the hopes that he'd come back. you really wanted to see him tonight and tell him about the kittens. you had started to grow fond of him. but you wait and wait and he doesn't come back, so you sigh in defeat and leave, walking back home.

wonwoo thinks you've rejected him and he doesn't know what to do. he starts to go out less and not show up anymore. but little did he know that you were the one who was waiting for him now, hoping you'd get the chance to see him again.

in the quiet hum of the convenience store, wonwoo hesitates near the entrance, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. as wonwoo contemplates something, a familiar face catches his eye - you. a rush of warmth floods his chest as he watches you. he sees the way your head lifts up, your eyes spotting him. a smile immediatly blooms on your face at the sight of wonwoo. he freezes, breath catching in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from you. you stand up in a rush and run outside, towards wonwoo.

"wonwoo! there you are! i've been waiting for you", you tell when you're close enough and his heart jumps at your words. you were waiting for him?

"i thought i wouldn't see you again, guess you've gotten busy huh", you add and wonwoo can only blink down at you as you smile at him as you speak. his heart almost melts when you look at him like that, with that pretty smile adorning your face as you talk to him.

"i rescued this pregnant cat and she littered a few weeks back. the kittens are adorable and i wanted to tell you", you say excitedly as you look up at wonwoo. you wanted to tell him?

"that's sweet", wonwoo finally says, his voice sweet and deep, accompanied by a gentle smile. his hair is still damp from taking a shower earlier as it falls over his eyes and he's wearing that black shirt again that makes him look effortlessly good. paired with those glasses perched on his nose, enhancing his already captivating presence, you swear you're about to go feral at the sight of wonwoo again as you take in his appearance.

"do you want to see them?", you blurt out, the words out of your mouth before you can think. wonwoo looks at you for a second before he responds, his heart racing. "sure".

and that's how you're walking to your place. wonwoo offered you a ride on his bike again but you declined, preferring to walk instead. he doesn't press on the matter and walks with you. "are you okay? i didn't see you around, i thought something happened", you tell as you walk.

"yeah, just a little busy", he says instead, his voice tinged with relief that you wanted to see him again.

you turn around the corner and reach your house. you open the door and wonwoo walks in, following you inside. you can already hear the kittens meows in the room and you chuckle as you walk over to the box, pulling it out slowly to unveil the kittens to wonwoo. the kittens spot you and start to scramble out, climbing up and out of the box with determined feet. wonwoo bends down and offers his hand to one of the kittens, who walks into his palm.

wonwoo settles down on the floor and so you do. you watch as all the kittens storm over to him and climb all over him. you laugh again at the sight of him being ambushed by the army of kittens. "you're so cute", you tell and wonwoo feels his cheeks heat up when you call him that. he lets out a laugh, the sound of his sweet chuckle filling the air between you both.

after you'd played enough and the kittens seemed to have exhausted themselves quickly, you put them back in the box and get up, offering to make wonwoo some tea.

you place the mug of hot tea in front of wonwoo and sit next to him instead. he glances up as you settle beside him, a soft smile gracing your lips. wonwoo watches as your gaze drifts down to his arm, to the tattoos that adorn it. he can feel your curious gaze lingering on the inked patterns, your eyes tracing the lines with unspoken curiosity.

"do you have a favourite?", you ask, breaking the silence as you look up to meet wonwoo's eyes. "i guess i like them all, there's a story behind each of them", he responds and watches the curiosity in your eyes grow. wonwoo offers you the story behind one of the tattoos and watches as you eagerly listen, leaning in closer and he just hopes you can't hear how loud his heart is beating because of you.

you both end up spending more time together than intended but none of you make a move to leave. it's only when wonwoo glances at the time, seeing that it is late that he decides to excuse himself.

"i should probably get going", he says as he glances at the time. "oh-right", you tell quickly, a little defeated. you get up and wonwoo does too. you walk with him towards the door and he lingers at outside your door, like he wanted to tell you something.

"i'll see you around?", you ask, hopeful. "yeah", wonwoo replies softly, a smile gracing his lips as he meets your gaze. it's a fleeting moment, but in that exchange, he feels a connection, a spark of something more.

you watch as he leaves and you close your door, leaning back against it and closing your eyes. the realisation that you were crushing on him hard hits you like a wave. wonwoo realises that too as he walks but he stops. in that moment, determination seems to take hold of wonwoo because if he doesn't ask you now, he may never have the courage to do so again.

turning around, wonwoo retraces his steps, his heart pounding in his chest as he approaches your door once more. with a hesitant hand, he knocks on your door, startling you. you're surprised when you open the door and see wonwoo again, meeting his gaze.

wonwoo stands before you, uncertainty written across his features, but there's a determination shining in his eyes. in that moment, as you stand face to face, the air tinged with anticipation, wonwoo knows that he has to seize this chance.

"can i... can i ask you something?" he begins, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his stomach.

with a reassuring smile, you nod, silently urging him to continue. "sure, what's up?", you ask.

"i was wondering... if you'd like to go out with me sometime? for lunch maybe? or dinner" wonwoo asks, the words spill forth in a rush, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he lays bare his feelings before you.

for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, the tension thickening in the air as you contemplate his question.

"like a date?", you ask softly as you peer up at wonwoo's hopeful and nervous gaze.

"yeah...i mean only if you want to", he adds quickly as he adjusts his glasses and runs a nervous hand through his hair. but then, a smile spreads across your face, genuine and bright, and the weight of uncertainty lifts from wonwoo's shoulders.

"i'd love to," you reply, your voice soft with sincerity. "i thought you'd never ask", you mumble softly. relief floods through wonwoo, washing away the last remnants of doubt as he meets your gaze with a gentle smile.

you're walking back home with wonwoo, his jacket draped over your shoulders as he drops you back home after yet another date. your hand is intertwined in wonwoo's. you reach home soon and wonwoo walks you up to your doorstep.

"i had a great time", you tell, peering up at him and a soft smile blooms on his lips. "me too", he replies.

"goodnight", he adds after a few seconds as he looks at you. he lingers in front of you, and so you do, not wanting the night to end. but there's something else on wonwoo's mind. his eyes flicker down to your lips and back up to your eyes, as he tries to build up the courage to kiss you goodnight.

"see you tomorrow?", you ask, since none of you seem to want to leave, wanting to stay in this moment. "yeah", he says, gulping nervously. his hand finds yours and you look up at him. his gaze flickered to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes, his expression a mix of longing and uncertainty.

"can i kiss you?", he asks, his words were barely a whisper, tinged with a husky intensity as he leans in ever so slightly, closing the gap between you both by a fraction. you nervously blink up at him as you meet his intense gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

"yes", you say softly as you stand there.

wonwoo leans in a bit, his nose brushing against your cheek and he gently presses his lips to yours for a fleeting moment before pulling away. he's still close enough and he searches your eyes, your heart racing and all you know is you want more.

you reach your hand forward, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt as you lean in to kiss him again, your lips meeting his again. he slowly moves his lips against yours this time. the kiss is slow and deliberate, the warmth of wonwoo's lips against yours sending a rush of heat through your body. his hand cups your cheek tenderly, while his other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. your hands rest on his shoulders as you kiss him back. his touch gentle as you melt into the embrace, the world falling away around you as you lose yourself in the sweetness of the kiss.

wonwoo pulls away, his cheeks tinged with a delicate blush, mirroring your own as he looks at you. for a moment, neither of you dares to speak, the air heavy with the nervous energy between the both of you. the silence stretches on, punctuated only by the soft sound of your breaths mingling in the quiet space.

"i, um... that was..." wonwoo's voice trails off into a nervous murmur, his words getting lost in the trail of his thoughts.

you can't help but smile at his shyness, feeling a surge of affection for the man standing before you. "yeah, it was..." you murmur softly, your own voice tinged with a bashful warmth.

the tension between you both eases slightly. with a shy smile, you reach out to adjust wonwoo's glasses, pushing them back up on his nose.

"you're cute when you're nervous," you tease gently, the words laced with affection as you meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. wonwoo's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of pink, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he meets your gaze. "so are you," he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in to brush a gentle kiss against your forehead.

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[arjwrites]

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

-

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 

-

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.” 

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?” 

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

- 

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 

“A year.” 

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 

-

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-” 

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 

[amourane]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST *CHEF’S KISS*

You deserve all the notes ⭐️ would it be ok to request a post hogwarts with theo? Angst to fluff if that’s alright?

TIA if you decide to do it!!

—🍄

calm after the storm

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

genre: angst to fluff, post hogwarts au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: theo has a hard time dealing with his emotions and you were always there for him but what if one day it becomes all too much.

warnings: it's going to hurt <3

a/n: 🍄 thank you so so much for this request because i read it when u sent it and i remembered it in my exam and i managed to write this banger (i dont know if its word for word but i tried to write as much as i could remember) i just added the fluff at the end. BUT THIS IS FOR YOU <33333

Rain.

It was the first thing that hit Theo’s face when he stormed out of the door. Thick and heavy droplets that fell from the sky, marking his perfect face. They streaked down his cheeks parting into different directions like rivers. The cold sensation enveloped him as he listened to the pitter patter that flooded his ears.

He was angry. He was frustrated. He was livid. The ugly emotion bubbled within him, threatening to burst. It twisted and toiled, shrieked and screamed. It was like a monster, feeding on his anger, waiting to pounce at any second. 

The fight wasn’t meant to escalate this badly. Insults were thrown and meaningless threats were made as the both of you shouted at each other.

The argument could have been solved. The solution simply lay right in front of Theo but he had refused to see it. He had refused to accept he was wrong. You hadn’t asked for much, hadn’t asked anything unreasonable yet he had lashed out. He chose to ignore what lay in front of him and blame you instead. 

“I should have never accepted your pathetic excuse for a confession.”

The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could’ve stopped them. Harsh cutting words that dug into you and twisted with malice. He saw the way his words clawed at the seams of your heart, ripping it to shreds. He watched as your face fell and broke. The once bright smile he always saw was replaced with a heart wrenching stare.

It was all too much. So he ran.

Bitterness swallowed him whole as he thought back to the moment. Festering anger turned into anguish. You had always been so full of joy. Ever since he had met you all those years ago when he watched as you got sorted and skipped to your table with glee. You were so beautiful, so kind, so pure. Your eyes would always look at him with so much adoration and love. Theo loved you more than he could imagine. 

Then the fight would resurface. It overtook his honeyed memories of you like an infectious plague, tainting the sweet thoughts. They replaced your beautiful smile with a heartbroken expression. Your eyes, that he was so used to seeing filled with love, looked at him with incredulous horror. The sight haunted him.

Rain brought Theo back to the present. The thunderous clap resounded through his ears. At first, he had wanted to run far away but he only found himself able to walk so far before his feet refused to move. He stayed stuck to the ground as he felt the rain wash over him. Theo didn’t care what others thought, didn’t care if the passersby looked at him oddly.

All he cared about was you.

Theo didn’t know how long he stayed outside letting the water rush over his body. He simply stood. Time seemed to pass slowly as he tried to remind himself of your laughter and smiles. He forced himself to forget about what had happened but he couldn’t. The memories were constant, a never ending cycle that would taunt him. 

The rain slowed and eventually stopped. The dull grey clouds cleared to reveal the peaceful sky as if nothing had happened. 

Even though the sun beamed down on Theo he still felt the endless rivers that ran down his cheeks. He still felt the streaks of water as they rolled down his face. The tears didn’t stop as he stood there.

The streets were still damp, the scent of rain hanging in the air. Theo felt a gentle touch on his arm and he flinched, spinning around to meet your worried gaze. Your voice, soft and full of concern, broke through the haze. 

“Theo, you’re soaked. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

He turned to face you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. The moment his gaze met yours, the dam broke. Sobs racked his body, and he fell into your arms, clutching you as if you were his lifeline.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so angry, and I took it out on you. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

You held him tighter, your touch soothing him. He continued to cry, unable to stop the tears as they continued to fall. The guilt ate him up inside, gnawed at his conscience, continuously banging on the iron bars that he kept his heart behind.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whispered, stroking his wet hair. “It’s okay, Theo. We’ll get through this.”

Your words broke him even more. You were so kind. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your kindness. You had always been the understanding one, the one to resolve fights, the one who would reach out and tell him it’ll be okay. Theo knew he had a problem with his emotions, he knew that he had a hard time expressing how he felt. You knew it too. He would always be grateful for the way that you still stuck by him despite everything. 

“I hurt you. I said such horrible things. How can you even look at me?” He whispered against you, his voice cracking. His throat was dry and hoarse from the crying and he pulled away to look at you. His vision was blurry but he could still make out your beautiful features.

You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. “Because I love you, Theo. We’ve had our fights, but this…this is something we can fix. We just need to talk and understand each other.”

Theo could only watch as you smiled despite the fact tears were spilling from your eyes too. He felt the emotions whirl in his mind.

“I love you so much Y/n. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m such a bad boyfriend. I’m so sorry. I never meant any of it. I love you so much, so so much.” He hugged your body tight, trying to grasp onto the warmth you always provided him with. “Can we - can we start over?”

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Yes, Theo. We can start over. But first, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and somewhere warm.”

The two of you walked back to your apartment, your hand holding his as you led him inside. No words were said as you helped him dry off, grabbing new clothes so he didn’t fall sick from the rain. Each touch that you left filled his cold body with warmth. He pulled you towards him, embracing you tightly.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your hair. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You held him tighter, making sure that he knew that you would always be there for him, making sure that he felt all of your love and comfort.

“I would never give up on you.” You breathed out a sigh as your hands massaged his back. “We’ll get through this, just like how we got through everything else.”

The two of you stayed in silence, letting the day pass by. No words needed to be exchanged as the both of you enjoyed the comfort of each other's love. Theo knew he had issues. He knew he had problems. Yet as long as you stayed by him he knew that life wouldn’t be so bad.

[no-thoughts-owl]

Epic: The Musical

Act 1

- Troy saga (5 songs)

• The Horse and the Infant

• Just a man

• Full speed a head

• Open arms

• Warriors of the mind

- Cyclops saga (4 songs)

• Polyphemus

• Survive

• Remember them

• My goodbye

- Ocean Saga (4 songs)

• Storm

• Luck runs out

• Keep your friends close

• Ruthlessness

- Circe saga (4 songs)

• Puppeteer

• Wouldn’t you like

• Done for

• There are other ways

- Underworld saga (3 songs)

• The underworld

• No longer you

• Monster

Act 2

- Thunder saga (5 songs)

• Suffering

• Different Beast

• Scylla

• Mutiny

• Thunder Bringer

- Wisdom saga (5 songs)

• Legendary

• Little wolf

• We’ll be fine

• Love in paradise

• God games

- Vengeance saga (5 songs)

• Not sorry for loving you

• Dangerous

• Charybdis

• Get in the water

• Six hundred strike

- Ithaca saga (5 songs)

• The Challenge

• Hold him down

• Odysseus

• I can’t help but wonder

• Would you fall in love with me again

This is the list of songs for Epic!! Jorge Herrans, the song writer, showed this a while back on tiktok.

Edit: Going by the comments on TikTok, Your light was scrapped, kinda sad tho that was the song I first heard on Jorge’s tiktok

Edit: Songs 39 & 40, Royal wisdom burst and Olive tree, has been changed.

Edit: According to discord, Song 38, King, was changed to Odysseus.

Edit: Songs 21 & 22, the mystery songs, are Suffering and Different Beast, respectively.

[fraugwinska]

If it’s okay, can you do Alastor x Reader where Alastor catches you relapsing after a fight with him? If it’s too much, you don’t have to do it. Just wanted some comfort for what I’m going through. You’re also a very good writer! Keep up the great work! xx

Hey anon - I hope you are doing well. I couldn't let this one sit too long in my inbox... Whatever you are going through: I hope this will help you with a bit of comfort. (I do hope I didn't misinterpret your ask...) I send you the biggest hug, my dearest! <3 TW:Self Harm,Depression,Angst - Minors DNI - 1.3k words

You were doing so well. So, so well.

Arguments with Alastor occurred from time to time, but you had done so well in not letting them become full-blown fights. His rationale and your restraint had always managed to hold the worst at bay and settle any troubles with a few deep breaths, calm words and a compromise. It was something you were hugely proud of, something you had never been able to do before, and with him - you finally seemed to manage.

But now, after a tirade of harsh words, hurtful remarks and slammed doors you are alone in your room, curled up in a bed that feels much too big and streaks of cold tears on your cheeks. Immediately after you stormed out Alastor's radio tower you regretted your tone, regretted what you said, the way you got irrationally upset and how you provoked him - just to hurt him. You were unfair, cruel even, and the worst part was you didn't mean a single thing you said in the heat of the argument. Of course, Alastor said some choice words to you too, nasty things said in cold calmness, but only in reaction to your emotionally charged onslaught. And it didn't change the fact that you had done him wrong, over a fucking triviality that spun out of control.

It doesn't change the fact that the feelings and thoughts you feared slowly return, thoughts of your inadequacy, your worthlessness, your shortcomings all coming back into your head in one big punch of guilt and insecurity. Spiraling, you feel yourself getting more and more tense, like a pressure cooker without a valve, ready to burst. Your chest hurts - no, everything hurts: Your chest, your arms, your head, your heart.

You had done so well.

But you are desperate, panicked - you've pushed the one person away that was able to ground you, the only one that could make you feel safe and strong enough to withstand this urge, this need to hurt, to release. You bury your nails in your thigh, but it is far from enough. He must hate you now, and could you blame him? No, no you couldn't, and you push yourself off the bed, almost frantic.

Release, release, release - where is it? The shame you hid when you first moved into the hotel, the valve you had used so often to momentarily drain yourself from this burdening pain, the tool you had to use because you weren't reborn in hell with the fortune of sharp talons.

The loose floorboard creaks under your erratic steps. Ah. There. Hidden under your feet, untouched for so long. You start to cry again as you kneel down, lifting the panel. You feel like a failure.

Sorry, I am so sorry, your head chants as you reach for it with trembling hands, please just let it be a little less, just a tiny, little...

"Darling..."

You freeze. His voice is quiet, tune- and toneless echoing from behind you. It sends a new shiver through your tense, quivering body. Your hand hovers over the small object but you can't move it away, eyes squeezed shut in defeat. Your brain races, thinking of anything to say but coming up empty.

"My sweetling, whatever you're looking for under there...", he continues slowly, softly, each step of his dressing shoes against the parquet resounding painfully loud in your ears. You're so mortified by him catching you in the act that the tight coil in you seems ready to snap. "...will not do you any good."

He halts when when he is next to you, kneeling down. You feel his shoulder brush your back as he lays a clawed hand on yours and gently pulls it away from the hole in the floor. Your shoulders begin to shake with ragged sobs and his tender touch on your cheek prompts you to tilt your head, face hot, and to look him into his eyes that seem both understanding and sad.

"Harming yourself will only make you hate yourself more than you regrettably already do."

You try to breathe, but fail miserably, choking on the air around you. How could you justify what you were about to do, how could you hurt him again like this, with this action, with this thoughts, after everything you both have worked for? You had done so well - Why didn't you have it more under control, like you should?

"I'm sorry, A-Alastor... I'm sorry, s-so sorry, please..."

He pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, steady embrace. One hand comes up, stroking your hair in tender movements, shushing you quietly as he lets you sob into his shoulder. The longer he holds you the easier it gets to draw deep breathes, until you finally manage to draw in the air that your body lacked so much. With each rise and fall of your chest, you feel a tiny bit of the panic fade, as if his soothing static draws it out in humble waves, soft and soothing around and inside you.

"I know, darling...", Alastor murmurs, kissing the top of your head and tightening his hold, "It's all long forgiven already."

A shattered sigh escapes you. How could he do all this for you? Accept you, with all the flaws and mistakes and shortcomings? How can he forgive you with such gentle ease? And still care for you, despite and including it all, why? How?

"Please don't hate me..."

He only loosens his grip when you stop trembling, carefully taking your chin between his claws, prompting you to break the chain of self-degrading thoughts and silencing the whispers in your head as he locks his eyes on yours.

"I could never, darling, even if I tried. But you need to understand: You are fighting the most vicious and cruel enemy there is, my love.", his face is void of the smirk he often wore, the one he doesn't use to tease or ridicule, or mock, it's his serious smile. The one he wears when he's about to be blunt. "Yourself."

A sudden rush of fresh tears cloud your vision. He's right, you know he is - you have always been your own worst enemy. Never giving yourself a fighting chance, the help and care you didn't feel you deserve. It felt so tiring, hopeless, in these moments where you fell victim to your weakness and turned it all onto yourself.

"I'm... so weak."

"We all have our battles. And this happens to be one you exhausted yourself to win on your own. However...", he offers you a sweet smile, taking your hand, "...it's a battle you don't have to fight alone anymore."

He takes your face into one of his large hands - the warmth of his palm is soothing against the rawed skin of your cold cheek as you instinctively lean into it, chasing the gentleness of the touch. The smile he gives you is more serious than you've ever seen before, and he lifts his other hand, waving his fingers for a split second in the corner of your eyes - the loose floorboard squeaks as it magically sets itself back into its place and seals itself with the flooring, eliminating the option of taking it off again. Alastor sighs, tilting his head to recapture your gaze.

"Whatever angry words are exchanged and however vexed we might be with each other... please, my love, let me hold you together in my arms when you threaten to fall apart like this."

How long he held you in his arms that night, settled in your bed instead of his as you usually did - you didn't know. How many soothing touches he planted on your body – you didn't count. All that mattered were the soft kisses that he pressed on your cheeks, the way he held your hand, fingers entwined with yours, and the soothing words he repeated to you, over and over like a mantra.

"You are doing well, my love."

[madarashipslicerromancedicer]

@madaraservingcunt

[plumsaffron]

I'll show you true terror (I think that's what he says when after awakening).

[thinkinonsense]

Magnetic──★ Logan Howlett x fem!oc: Chapter Four

╰┈➤Summary: After years of torture, Daphne decides how she wants to spend the rest of her life; at the bottom of a lake. Out of nowhere, Logan pulls Daphne from the water and finds her help. Now they must navigate how to live with their decisions.

╰┈➤C/W: mentions of death, suicide, cursing, age gap, mild violence, issues with infertility, slight sexual themes, mentions of body mutilations, blood, and sort of a hysterectomy (nothing super graphic)

ᯓ★ mdni.ᐟ

ᯓ★word count: 1.7k+

ᯓ★ spotify playlist link

ᯓ★ last chapter here

ᯓ★ A/N: Sorry for the chapter being so short. i had this idea and needed to right it. hope you enjoy!

✮⋆˙ It's been days and Daphne hasn't seen Logan around the mansion. She began to worry that maybe he was starting to regret his decision to save her and bring her here. It wasn't until day three while training with Storm, that she found out where he had been.

"Jean mentioned they would be busy these next couple of days," Storm says nonchalantly.

"Oh," Daphne let out under her breath.

The worst part of Daphne's attraction control is that it can work both ways. Deep down she was yearning for something she didn't deserve. She felt it once before and now he is dead. Maybe that's why Logan has been avoiding her; he feels like she is manipulating his feelings. Daphne figured that the best thing she could do for him was avoid him too; for his sake.

That is exactly how that week went. Not once did their paths cross. Logan disappeared with Jean while Daphne spent time training with Storm and some of the other students. During the evening, Daphne stayed in her room with Juna. Storm, Rogue, and even Jean would knock on her door to invite her to join everyone at dinner but she always declined; making up some bullshit excuse. Nighttime was a struggle for Daphne. She would fight off sleep by distracting herself with books, her cat, or pacing around the room until her legs hurt. It wasn't easy for her as her eyes would often drift into slumber at some point.

Tonight happened to be one of those nights.

──★

Within the walls of her slumber, Daphne awoke in the familiar glass cage, curled up, and barefoot covered in a puddle of her own blood. A loud yell in the distance urges her to crawl to the glass, despite the gush of blood seeping from her.

"Help!" Daphne screamed at the top of her lungs. "Please!"

After minutes of howling, she sees them. Bellinor, two guards, and the love of her life; tied up and blindfolded. Daphne panics banging against the glass frantically. She did what they told her, wiped out millions and now they would wipe out what she loved too.

"Please! Take me instead!" Daphne cried, face full of tears. "Take me! Kill me instead! He doesn't deserve this!"

They ignored her pleas; instead calling the bonded man a 'trader' and 'coward' for caring for someone so evil. Someone who could never truly love him back.

Daphne's powers were useless behind the special glass. Bellinor made her watch as he destroyed the only world she knew. In a split second, the bullet flies through his head. In a mighty roar, Daphne's eyes roll back to return to dark red. Everything around the men shakes angrily, including the floor and ceiling. Finally, the glass cell bursts open.

Like a true coward, Bellinor runs, telling the others to shoot her dead. Daphne tuned out their groans, screams, and cries for help. To her it was quiet.

──★

3:15 am

It started with the chandelier downstairs. A few students woke up and noticed. Next, were the doors and windows slamming, waking the adults. By the time anyone realized where it was coming from, the floors were shaking.

Logan steps out of his room, joining the others down the hall. Similarly to the students, he had no idea what was happening. That was until he saw Jean, Scott, and Storm outside Daphne's bedroom door, talking.

"What's doin' on?" Logan asks, confused.

"Your damsel is shaking the whole mansion at three in the morning, that's what's going on," Scott informs Logan. Storm smacks Scott in the chest, shooting him a glare.

"We are pretty sure she is having a nightmare," Storm states.

"It's horrific," Jean warns him.

"I'll check on her," Logan states. "Get the kids back to bed."

Storm and Jean nod, gathering the children before Logan opens the door. The room looks normal to him, that is before he sees the woman thrashing and intertwined in her bedsheets. As Logan moves closer to the bed, he can hear her mumbling with tears streaming down her pink puffy cheeks. It was devastating to watch.

"Daphne," He says, shaking her softly. "Hey wake up, sweetheart."

Logan repeats this twice until she jumps up with her heart pounding so hard that he can hear it ringing in his ears. There's no hesitation in Logan's actions as he pulls her into his chest. Daphne's wet tears leak onto his tank top with her mumbled apologies.

"I-I'm sorry." Her voice breaks as she speaks.

"It's okay, it's okay" Logan whispers into her head of curls. "No need to apologize."

It felt like a lifetime spent in his arms, Daphne thought; a lifetime well spent. She used his heartbeat to steady her own. Logan didn't make her feel like she was overstaying her welcome in his embrace. One of his hands tangled in the hair near her neck while his other sat on her lower back, thumb swiping back and forth over a small exposed slit of skin.

When Daphne stares up at Logan with her glossy green eyes sparkling in his direction, he thinks he might've fallen under a spell. He knew he shouldn't feel this way while she was in a vulnerable state, but anyone would feel spellbound under her gaze.

She shouldn't be staring, she thinks. It's not fair to give them both false hope. She should let him go; remind him that she's a liability. Daphne wanted to use every excuse to make him stay but she knew better.

"Sorry. You shouldn't have to save me anymore," Daphne said softly, avoiding Logan's hazel eyes.

Suddenly, the hand in her hair moves north to her jaw, gently keeping her in place. Logan shakes his head, "Like I said, no need for apologies."

"Right..." She hums, pulling back and then adding, "Well, I should probably let you get back to bed-"

"I could, um.. I could stay," Logan blurted out, cutting her off. "If you would like."

"You want to stay?"

"If you don't mind. I could watch over you in case you have another nightmare."

"You don't have to..."

"I wasn't getting much sleep before anyways." He reassures; standing up, and pulling over the chair in her room. He sits on the right side of her bed while Juna curls up next to Daphne. They sit in silence for a while and Logan is almost sure she fell back asleep; until he hears a whisper.

"Do you ever get nightmares?"

"All the time."

"Me too. I try not to fall asleep."

"What are yours about?"

Daphne blinks slowly up at the ceiling before answering him, "They vary; but tonight was the return of a painful memory. The man who captured me mutilated me then took the life of the man I loved."

Logan's body stiffened as she spoke. This didn't seem too far-fetched considering what Charles had let him see before of her life. He never saw a lover though. Logan didn't doubt that she would've had many of them, it seemed odd that none of them would've tried to protect her.

"Mutilated...?" He hesitated to ask.

"They cut me open so I wouldn't be able to have children." Daphne sounded numb, he thought. "I was left bleeding out in my cage."

"Daph..."

"Some nights, I can see my life as a mother. It's so silly but I can picture myself cooking dinner while my baby sits in their high chair; both of us waiting for my husband to come home from work." She sniffles quietly; letting her hand travel down her stomach, stopping between her hips to trace the scar left behind. "It is the sweetest form of torture."

Logan stares at the floor, trying to picture her fantasy. He saw Daphne standing in the kitchen, baby bouncing on her hip while she stirred a pot on the stove. She was right; it was the sweetest form of torture.

"What was he like?" Logan asked.

"Who?"

"The man you were in love with."

Daphne smiled, picturing him so clearly. "He was great. Our situation wasn't ideal but we made it work. At first, I thought he was out to hurt me like the others but over time, he would open up to me."

Logan wanted to question their relationship but knew better than to crush her dwindling spirit. Perhaps a part of him felt a sting of jealousy at how much she gushed over a man who helped keep her locked away.

"... it was like catching lightning in a bottle." She sighed. "I would give anything to feel it again."

"You'll find it again."

Logan watched as Daphne traced the scar on her lower stomach.

"Do you ever think about it..?"

"Think about what?"

"A family."

There is a long pause. Daphne wonders if she overstep, then again they didn't know each other very well. When she went to apologize, he cut her off.

"Sometimes." Logan shrugs. "But it's not realistic."

"Oh, yeah," Daphne lets out a dry chuckle. "I almost forgot you're an old man."

A small smile forms on Logan's lips at her laugh.

"Not everyone can be young and pretty like you, dollface." Logan noticed her shift onto her elbow to look at him. Her face turned a cherry wine color in the moonlight and her eyes went dark as they found his.

"You don't mean that." She shakes her head. "It's the curse talking."

He was offended by her assumption. I mean, look at her. Daphne was more than her mutation, more than her 'curse', more than those horrible moments that she thought defined her. It was a tragedy that she didn't see that.

There was so much that he wanted to say to her; to assure her that her life was not doomed, her dreams weren't far-fetched, and that she could be happy.

That's all she wanted, right? Happiness?

Logan could do that. Restore the light that left her eyes long ago. He was convinced he could give it to her.

Too caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed her muffled, "Goodnight, Logan."

As he watched her lay back on her pillow, eyes closed, smile still on her face, Logan realized he did not give a damn if it was her attraction control anymore; he was done for.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags: @bethexo07 @marcybug @borapsycho @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367

@aylawylie @princessanglophile @mxtokko

if you want to be tagged for future chapters of Magnetic, reply and let me know <3

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

How are You Seen and How is Your Style Perceived?

Hey fellas!! This reading is a suggestion from @evaalison72020!!! Thank you so much for your request! The decks used today are The Tarot of the Divine, The Moonology Oracle, and Believe In Your Own Magic Oracle. Take what resonates and leave the rest but always be ready for new perspectives.

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Drop your reading suggestions in my inbox for future PAC. Thank you all in advance! Love you🤍

_____________________________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Leo, Pisces, Virgo (maybe cancer)

Song: Her Diamonds by Rob Thomas

Vibes: Green, red, yellow, ohi'a tree blossoms, intense emotion, crabs, birch tree, Pele, bow staff, modeling, boho fashion, photography, 999, 4444, swords, lotus root, dragons, monkeys, selenite, howlite

Cards: Queen of Wands, King of Cups, Judgement, Supermoon, Garden

Hello, pile one! I am really digging y'all's energy. You have a very androgynous energy so people have a lot of variety in how they perceive you. I think first I will start with your style and ease into those who know you a bit deeper. So, your style is very earth-toned. How you dress tells people that you are reasonable and balanced. You hate wearing shoes so you don't wear them if you don't have to. You might have a touch of fantasy in your accessories. I see crystal bracelets or pendulum necklaces. You like to wear loose-fitting clothes that make you feel free. I'm specifically seeing a long red skirt. It's about knee length. If a skirt doesn't resonate it could also be a red jacket or sweater that you tie around your waist. People initially see a really free spirit with a whimsical side. People might be surprised by your free spirit but not usually put off by it. You have a very cheerful vibe to you that makes people feel at home. They view you as light on your feet and a positive influence on everything around you. However, occasionally you get excited by something and your eyes narrow in. You have a very intense stare. It can be pretty intimidating.

As for the androgyne tones I was feeling earlier I will now explain a little further. So, you sorta reflect gender at people. This is not to say you are gender fluid or nonbinary but that is a possibility. The vibe I am getting is whatever gender the person perceiving you is, is the gender they see you as. Which can drastically change how people see you, in my experience. Women see you as safe to be around. Men see you as capable and responsible. Nonbinary people see you as a comrade. This also brings in a lot of suiters that get confused by your presentation. I hear many people see you and think, "Woah, did you see them? They looked so cool." These people are always too shy to say anything to you though.

The people who are closest to you view you entirely differently. They know you well enough to see your truest emotion. Your emotions are as intense as the stare I talked about earlier. You have the heart of a dragon. It is difficult to express the deep feelings a dragon would feel through a humans body. It comes out as explosive bursts of immense sensational expression. You are the one laughing the hardest, crying the most, screaming the loudest, burning with fury and jumping all around when you get excited. The people closest to you see you as powerful because of this. They know you are harmless but if challenged you can be extremely dangerous. You are the king of sentiment though so the ones closest never get caught in the crossfire of your emotional depth.

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PILE TWO

Astrology: Cancer, Scorpio, Gemini

Song: Daddy AF by Slayyyer (spirit picked this one... not sure why)

Vibes: Purple, storm cloud blue, peach pink, cranes, wings, bindi, bangs/fringe, sake, green tea, circles, red lips, 222, 555, amethyst, rose quartz, Kali, Lilith, Hekate, Persephone

Cards: The High Priestess, Ace of Cups, Three of Swords, Mirror, Full Moon in Cancer

Welcome, pile two to your reading. You are scene as very mysterious. The public eye doesn't know what to make of you. Honestly, I can see the mystery in the cards but I am also struggling to tap into you. You are very guarded but very beautiful. If you have ever heard of the term kuudere, I think that would be pretty accurate to how to are perceived . If you are unfamiliar with the term it just means you seem very in control of you emotions. So much so that you might come off as cold to some people. You appear to be serene outwardly but on the inside I see you have many different emotions. The style you wear is similar to how your emotions are displayed. Serene and mysterious. I see you could wear spiritual clothing that is meant for spiritual protection. Overall, the public views as an extremely beautiful but private individual that is low-key spiritual.

You have a dark feminine energy to you. This can draw in those who are fascinated by mystery. You don't like to let people close to you though because of painful situations you have been in before. I see you have experienced many heartbreaks and have given many sacrifices to people who did not meet you with gratitude. You honestly didn't let this eat you up inside. You moved forward with confidence and led yourself towards loving yourself. You worked towards the relationship you had with yourself and you resolved a lot of pain that you carried with. Entirely because you were fed up with people breaking your heart. You decided you wanted the person closest to you to stop breaking it too. You.

Those who can even reach the idea of being close to you view you as much softer than the public. They still see you as pretty mysterious but they can see that you are very sweet and accommodating. They have seen you at your worst and watched you kick ass all the way through. They see you as the baddest bitch on the block. It is very rare for you to have people close to you but when there are you are very loyal. You like to invite them over for drinks and thats when you let your truest self shine. You are an absolute riot. You have the wittiest joke and the funniest comebacks even when you are intoxicated. You have allowed yourself to cry on a friends shoulder over drinks too. Alcohol really loosens that vice grip you have on your emotions. I see you really only let your best friend see these parts of you. This person views you as their favorite person on earth. They really truly believe you are an angel. They have supported you through a couple really hard break-ups. I think they will always be the closest one to your heart.

______________________________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Aquarius, Capricorn, Taurus

Song: Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac

Vibes: Grey-blue, gold, purple, white, stain glass windows, arctic foxes, wolves, yokai, beetles, sharks, snow, ice, winter, 111, 963, 100, red hair, feathers, black tourmaline, Ares, Hephaestus, Hestia

Cards: 6 of Pentacles, 5 of Pentacles, 3 of Pentacles, New Moon, Shark

Hi, pile three! You have an entirely different impression you often give than how you actually are. Those who see you would not be able to guess how you actually are. You give a very scary vibe off to people. Strangers are intimidated by your appearance. Which is such a shame because your energy is so warm and inviting. :( You are very tall and have a broad figure with wide shoulders. You tower over most people. If you aren't physically tall people still get that energy of intimidation from your energy. People scurry out of your way as you walk past and avoid looking you in the eyes. You also have very strong eye brows which might give you real bad RBF. Those who aren't scared off by you, hold a lot of envy for how much you command attention. I also see you have really long beautiful legs that people comment on all the time. They mostly seem like complements but they probably don't really feel like it. They want to be like you but they just don't understand how much it actually bothers you to be as big as you are. I'm so sorry to you about all the door frames you run into and all the beds you have grown out of. It's tough be a big person.

Despite all your physical appearances, you have a lovely soft feminine energy. It is so nice to be in it feels like the biggest, softest, warmest bear hug to ever exist. You are a wonderful host. I can smell something really good so you might be an excellent cook or baker. I see you love to give back to your community through this skill. Which makes those a bit closer see you as this protective loving parental energy. I see you baking cookies for your neighbors and maybe your church. I can feel how happy you make people feel the closer they get to you. You have such a soft heart with a rough outer exterior. It does throw some of your neighbors kids for a loop at first.

Finally, those who are closest to you see you as extremely generous and kind. They know the world thinks you have sharp claws but they know that they are mistaking paws for claws. They love being around you and working together to help being a safer community. They know you give to charity and work in a place that helps those in needs. They see you as the sweetest, nicest person they have ever met in their lives. They wouldn't trade you for anyone. They trust you with their lives. If they are in any danger or in need they call you first. I think maybe at some point you had someone slander your good name because of your appearances. All your closest community friends and family came to your defense and saved your reputation. They truly, deeply care for you and I think you feel the exact same.

______________________________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Aries, Libra, Sagittarius

Song: Cooler Than Me (Cover) by Ethan Fields

Vibes: Gold, black, teal, white flowers, maximalism, alternative fashion, lily pads, frogs, 333, 4646, leaves, vines, coral, mountains, low gravity, forests, fairies, pixies, unicorns, culture, tigers eye, Zues, Aphrodite, Eros

Cards: Queen of Cups, 3 of Cups, Ace of Pentacles, Full Moon, Expectations

Hey there, pile four. Welcome to your reading! People outside of your circle see you are drop dead gorgeous. You make everyone question their sexuality or fall to their knees. Even your friends flirt with you constantly. You obviously flirt back just for funsies but thaaat can get you into some romantic fiascos that you never had any intention in getting into. Oops, lmao! I see strangers see you in two different lights. There are people who are stunned by your handsomeness. They are the ones turning their heads to get a second look. ;) Theeeeen there are the people who think you are doing way too much just because you like looking good. Thats dumb. Those people are dumb. Their opinions do not matter. That's because you are one of a kind! No one can match your style and brilliance. No one has the confidence to do what you do and make it look THAT good. AND THE BEST PAAART is that everyone knows it. Even if they are acting nasty about it. I see you like to wear lots of jewelry. Chains on chains on jewels on chains. You aren't addicted to glitter. Glitter is addicted to YOU!!! You love to do stuff with your hair too. I see you might have many wigs that you love to trade out. People are always convinced it's your real hair. Everyday you get more and more admirers. The public can not get enough of you.

Your energy is interesting. It is feminine but it presents in such a masculine way. You have this go getter vibe to you but then everything seems to come your way before you can even step towards it. It's like for a long time you had to fight for what you wanted but now people just hand you things you want before you can even ask. When people get closer to you, they just seem to give you things randomly. They will hook you up with their connections. Literally people are doing your networking for you. The way people see you gives you many opportunities in life. Don't worry about getting the opportunities yourself, baby. The universe loves to spoil you through your admirers.

The people closest to you see that you are a go with the flow kind of person. The universe pushes you somewhere and you just let it push you along like a leaf in the wind. Some of your closest friends think you are nuts but they know it always seems to work out for you anyway. Even if you don't make sense to them. They see you are a surviver and they know how ruthless you can be, babe. They see these as extremely admirable traits. The people closest to you feel like they have been around you since you were young so they like to mess with you like siblings would. It is pretty easy to get close to you though so they might not all be that way. They view you as loyal, kind, fun and unique. They wouldn't have you any other way.

[itsswritten]

when the sea calls for three | 3

Pairings: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Words: 5.3K

<<Previous Part | Masterlist | Summary

Autumn Court

“She’s late!” Eris's voice thundered through the hallway, his steps echoing on the stone floors of Forest House. You remained composed, waiting patiently as you heard his approach. Knowing full well the fiery storm that would follow.

The doors burst open with a forceful push, and Eris entered into the room like a whirlwind, his expression a mixture of frustration and impatience. He opened his mouth to unleash a barrage of complaints, only to falter as he caught sight of you seated calmly with his mother, sharing tea.

There was that fire. A flicker of it anyway.

You were no stranger to the fiery nature of the Vanserra’s. Lucien had his own, but it was interesting how differently it manifested in them. 

Lucien’s heat was like a welcoming hearth, radiating warmth and comfort like a cosy fireplace. But beneath, lurked potential. His fire, always crackling, could easily spread if provoked.

Beron had always been like a volcanic eruption, spitting burning molten fury upon anyone who crossed his path with no warning or restraint.

Restraint was something you felt Eris had a multitude of.

He was different. His fire felt different. Always simmering, on the verge of boiling over but never quite reaching it. It was as if he had learned to temper his flames, dampening them in the presence of his father. Now, with Beron gone, perhaps that simmering intensity would finally have the chance to ignite into something new.

You guessed only time would tell.

Sensing the tension, Lady Autumn, Hestia, intervened with a gentle smile. "I must apologise, my son," she began, her tone soothing. "I simply couldn't resist stealing y/n away for a quick catch-up. Don't hold her responsible when it is I that is at fault"

You couldn't help but smirk, finding amusement in the sight of Eris momentarily caught off guard. His previous expression of frustration changed into something that bore indifference. 

As you and Lady Hestia rose to greet him, she enveloped you in a warm embrace, "We're all thrilled to have you here. Oh, how I wish your mother could see you now. She would be bursting with pride." Genuine love left those words. The mention of your late mother stirred a bittersweet ache in your heart, and you noticed how even Eris’ expression softened.

"I'll leave you both to it," Lady Hestia beamed once more, her gaze shifting between you and Eris with pride. “I believe the pair of you will do wonderful things for this court. Together.” She held one of your hands in hers, while her other rested gently on her son's cheek. Leaning in, her voice softened to a whisper. "I'm proud of you too, you know."

Eris's expression softened further at his mother's words, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. He had brought an end to it all—his father's reign, the tyranny that had gripped them all. For his mother, for his brothers, for his people. He had taken the ultimate risk, and succeeded. You knew if it was Beron that still stood here to today, he would have had no part in this new peace treaty. 

If not for Eris's courage, well, you wouldn’t be standing here in Autumn today either, ready to forge a new path forward.

Despite the poor reputation that often preceded him, you had always suspected there was more to Eris than met the eye. Beneath that hard molten exterior, you were sure a kindness lingered. 

A small flicker of a flame.

A rare spark you had glimpsed in your younger years– a quality that you knew came from Hestia. It was a golden thread of hope you clung to, that perhaps beneath all those hard layers, the real Eris would now reveal himself. 

That maybe he was more like Lucien than either of them would ever admit.

However, he made it all too easy to believe the opinions of others when he looked at you like that. His unreadable expression, stoic and yet fiery with eyes that harboured resentment.

Who were you kidding? This was Eris Vanserra.

Eris reluctantly led you down the winding corridors of Forest House. You’d forgotten how large this place was, how deep the levels went. Memories of your childhood flickered through your mind as you recalled times where you and Lucien had ran down these very halls. Eris hadn’t taken you to the lower levels, instead he showed you the way to the western wing on one of the higher floors. 

Eris halted before a grand oak door. With a subtle gesture, he swung it open to reveal the spacious chamber beyond. "This room is yours." Eris announced, his tone begrudging.

He could have just got a member of his staff to do this. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you realised he was trying. That perhaps years of pretending to be this evil heir to appease his father may actually take time to erase.

So you would give him a chance. As you were giving all the courts, it was only fair.

Stepping inside, you were greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire and the inviting embrace of luxurious furnishings. The bed, adorned with sheets in hues of burnt orange and chocolate. A sight that made you want to curl up on the sheets there and then, Autumn had always been cosy. A large ornate wooden desk occupied one corner, while a private washroom beckoned from the side.

You surveyed the space with a sense of amusement, a soft chuckle escaping your lips at the indulgent opulence. The quietness of the quarters enveloped you, the secluded area obvious.

Was he hiding you in this part of the house? You’d noticed how it was far from the heart of the home.

"Do I have this entire wing to myself?" you quipped playfully, your eyes dancing with amusement as you turned to face Eris.

Eris's response was matter-of-fact. "My quarters reside in this part of the house” he states plainly, his expression revealing a hint of reluctance.

Surprised by his choice, you press further. "You haven't taken up the High Lord's quarters?"

A moment of emotion passes over Eris's features as he shakes his head. "I don't want to displace my mother from the room she's spent centuries in. Plus, I have no desire to inhabit my father's spaces. This part of the house has always been mine."

You nod in understanding, appreciating his unwavering respect and love he’s always had for his mother. A quality all of his brothers had.

Although you assumed there was more to it than just a son’s respect for his mother. Were there areas of the house he didn’t want to go? Parts where his father’s presence still lingered. 

“It’s eerily quiet…” you raised a brow, stepping to look outside the large window onto the beautiful autumn scenery.

“It is.” Eris's voice held a hint of amusement as he joined you by the window, his gaze following yours to the tranquil landscape outside. “It's so I can hear you if you get up to any trouble. My chamber is only down the hall.”

Ah, how quickly the taunts came. How natural this felt despite it being centuries.

Familiar, teasing and warm. His words had always felt like that when he spoke to you.

“Always so paranoid Eris…but good to know you’re only down the hall should I need you” you replied with a hum, only to watch that glint in Eris’ eyes turn playful.

“And why would you need me, little mouse?” His tone was teasing, and the old nickname sent a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

Little mouse.

That pet name. One you had almost forgotten about. The name instantly transporting you back to a time when you did indeed feel like a little mouse beneath Eris’ fox-like smile. 

Did he remember too? That time you almost gave yourself to him… 

You were at a ball, where you had slipped away, seeking solace from the overwhelming social obligations and the awkward third-wheeling as your friends found their own romantic pursuits for the evening. In the dimly lit corridors of the grand ballroom, you sought refuge away from the echoing sounds of laughter and music. You leaned against the cool marble walls, tugging at the tight corset around your waist.

It was then that Eris's voice, smooth and dark, pierced the silence around you. "What is Lucien's little girlfriend doing out here all alone?" His presence had seemed to materialise out of nowhere, his figure looming closer as he prowled towards you with a predatory grace.

You had rolled your eyes at his predictable taunts, a hint of exasperation tingeing your tone. "Really, Eris, that joke is getting old."

You watched as he came to stand in front of you, his presence already warming you. And you weren’t sure if that was because of the fire in his veins or the effect he had on you. It was perhaps not one of your proudest moments, but yes you may have had a small crush on your best friend’s older brother. His cold exterior usually scared most away, but there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t been able to ignore.

You couldn't deny that you often found your eyes searching for Eris during your visits to Lucien. It was a fleeting fascination.

"Then if you are not my brother’s... does that mean this little mouse is available for the taking?" His words dripped with dark humour, tone laced with a hint of something more. You felt your cheeks flush with heat, betraying any composure you had.

As he leaned in close, the proximity between you electrifying, you found yourself at a loss for words. You were never at a loss for words, but somehow in the presence of Eris you were. He looked like a fox ready to feast on you, and there was a part of you that was willing to let him. Maybe it was low inhibitions from faerie wine, or simply the desire to have someone’s attention that night, but you would have let Eris devour you.

But then as his stare took in your expression, his gaze softened for a moment. It was only fleeting, but whatever had crossed his mind was enough for him to abruptly pull away and head back into the ballroom.

The rejection tasted bitter in your mouth, and so you pushed that feeling deep, deep, deep inside of yourself.

Eris seemed to wet his lip with his tongue as if recognising where that name had taken you, and he was relishing in it. “I guess if the little mouse finds herself needing a comforting presence at night I’m not too far away. Maybe if you ask nicely I might even let you share my be-”

You smacked his arm hard, cutting off whatever inappropriate sentence he was going to finish with. This was your fault really, you’d opened the gates to this type of talk. But it was so familiar, you couldn’t help yourself. It was like you were 21 again with that stupid all consuming crush on your best friend's older brother.

Old habits died hard it seemed.

You weren’t 21 anymore though, and you wouldn’t crumble under his stare. He was watching you now, curious to know if he had gone too far but that soft smirk spread across your lips giving him the satisfaction he needed.

“Careful High Lord,” You mused “Careful.” and with that you turned “Come, we have work to do.”

You had given him your warning, and yet it very much felt like a challenge to his ears.

༄ 

You and Eris sat in his office, staring at the miniscule pile of submissions that had been sent in by his court. While Summer and Night's inhabitants had been perhaps overly forthcoming in expressing their thoughts, Autumn's court remained eerily silent.

You flicked through the handful of submissions, each one echoing the same sentiment: satisfaction with the status quo. 

They were reluctant to rock the boat. 

Eris let out a frustrated sigh, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. "My father has instilled so much fear into the land that they're too scared to even present their problems," he muttered bitterly, his gaze fixed on the sparse pile of papers.

You took a moment to digest his words before speaking up. "But you are not your father, Eris."

He looked up at you, a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. "No, but to some, they consider me just as bad."

Why was it in the unspoken you truly heard him.

Am I just as bad?

Your heart clenched tightly at his doubts. "Then let's show them you're not," you suggested, your voice firm with determination.

Without waiting for a response, you stood up from your chair and walked out of the room, expecting him to follow. True to form, Eris hurried after you, his steps quickening to match your pace.

“Little mouse, I’m not fond of chasing.” Eris shouted, his voice echoing through the corridors of Forest House. You hastened your steps, keeping ahead of Eris’ footsteps.

As he caught up and grabbed your hand hard, pulling you to a stop, you couldn't help but notice the flicker of annoyance in his expression. "Looks like you chased me anyway," you quipped with a playful smile, glancing down at your intertwined fingers.

His hand was warm and firm, yet with a roughness that differed from the Shadowsigner’s touch.

Why were you comparing them?

You pulled your hand from his quickly, not giving yourself another moment to linger on how his skin felt against yours. “We need to change the narrative Eris, let’s meet your people directly.” 

Eris didn’t object, his gaze lingering on his hand for a moment before he scoffed, shaking his head. You could have sworn he wanted to smile. “You’ve always been so hard to say no to.”

“It’s because I’m always right” You sang, stepping out into the crisp autumn air, the leaves crunching beneath your feet as you made your way towards the nearest town. Eris following closely beside you.

The townspeople of Autumn seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind at the sight of their red-headed High Lord, their gazes darting away or pretending to be engrossed in their tasks. It was a reaction Eris had grown accustomed to, one that grated on his nerves more than he cared to admit. His stoic demeanour, a shield he'd always worn, now seemed to be the very barrier keeping his people at arm's length.

Approaching a farmer with a stall brimming with fresh autumn produce, you noticed the tension in the man's shoulders as he glanced nervously at Eris behind you. His wooden stand boasted an array of vibrant fruits and vegetables. "Could I buy a bag?" you asked with a warm smile, trying to ease the farmer's apprehension.

His response was tentative as he began to bag up some plump blackberries for you. "Has your harvest been good this week?" you inquired, attempting to strike up conversation.

He seemed hesitant at first to reply, but you introduced yourself with a small smile. Vaguely brushing over your new role, and what you, as well as Eris were setting out to do during this new reign of peace. The farmer rolled his shoulders back as if finding confidence. "I've been lucky… but some of the land has been struggling. There's a blight on some of the soil," he replied cautiously, his eyes still avoiding Eris's imposing figure.

"No one notified me," Eris interjected, his tone firm and harsh. But you knew there was an underlying concern that rang in his words.

"Apologies, your grace. With your father... may the cauldron bless him... he didn't like us to inform him of these issues, only to rectify them," the farmer explained, bowing slightly.

Eris went rigid, and you gave him a soft glare as if to remind him that he was supposed to be painting a new narrative here.

"I will send a harvest healer down to the farms. Please inform me if you come across such problems again," Eris instructed, his tone softer this time.

As the farmer passed you the bag of berries, Eris unexpectedly dropped a few gold coins into the man's hand, overpaying for the fruit. "Thank you, your grace," the farmer murmured gratefully before retreating.

Despite Eris's efforts, it was evident that it would take time for his people to see him in a different light. Coaxing more residents to open up proved challenging with Eris looming behind you, his presence an obvious deterrent. Determined to find a solution, you gently looped your arm through his, eliciting a faint frown and a subtle pull away from him. "What are you doing?" he grimaced at your touch.

Gods, you’d have thought you’d burned him with his reaction.

"Softening your image. Having a pretty thing on your arm won't do you any harm," you remarked with a playful smile, hoping to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, one touch at a time. 

But despite how playful your reply was, your action was thought out. Having your charismatic smiley self on the arm of Eris, you hoped would sweeten his image, even just a little.

He merely rolled his eyes, his expression veering towards indifference, yet he didn't pull away. Your arm wrapped around his, drawing you intimately close, the warmth of the Vanserra male warding off the chill of the crisp autumn air. His scent enveloped you, a familiar blend of crackling fire, cloves, and cinnamon. 

Being this close to him wasn’t awful, a younger version of you may have even longed for this. 

Your plan had indeed worked. There was an undeniable charm in the sight of you hanging on the arm of the High Lord that seemed to thaw the reserve of the people, coaxing smiles and candid conversations from them.

The final stop for your visit was a bakery, one you remembered fondly from past visits. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, triggering a wave of nostalgia. "Please tell me you still have the pumpkin cream pie," you requested eagerly, your eyes lighting up. The baker's response was warm, and she quickly set about preparing one for you to take away. "You don’t understand how much I’ve missed this," you confessed, your excitement palpable. Eris had joined you by now, leaning casually against a nearby wall as he observed the interaction.

His expression softened as he watched you, the warmth of your personality radiating as you engaged with the baker. It was a quality of yours that had always drawn people to you, even from a young age. 

You had a way with words, a knack for always saying just the right thing. Whether it was to win an argument, gain the favour of opinion or uplift someone, the correct words always rolled off your tongue.

Pretty words from that pretty mouth.

Of course Eris knew the reason behind your charm, a secret he had long kept to himself. He knew of the abilities his little mouse possessed. 

He realised how long his gaze had settled on you, and it didn't escape his notice how the staff watched closely, some of them with a light tinge of pink covering their cheeks as they blushed,giggled and whispered between one another. In that moment, he realised the true power of having a ‘pretty thing’ on his arm.

Meanwhile, you were busy savouring the pumpkin cream, licking it off your finger with relish. "Gods, this is so good," you exclaimed, your smile infectious. But as you glanced up, you caught his unreadable gaze, and a hint of concern flickered in your eyes. 

Had you been too casual? Falling into this familiarity with him had felt so natural that you hadn’t even considered if it was maybe a tad unprofessional. Not that there would be anyone to reprimand you, but you did want to succeed in this role.

Swallowing, you decided to steer the conversation back to business. "I think this approach worked," you remarked, attempting to gauge his reaction. He was still looking forward as you both walked back to Forest House. "They were quite forthcoming with concerns once we got them to open up. There are a few areas I feel as though I'd be able to support." But his face remained inscrutable, as if he were pondering something much weightier.

Then, unexpectedly, he spoke, halting your steps in their tracks. "I want you to help me find a wife," he declared, his tone serious.

The request caught you off guard, though in hindsight, perhaps it shouldn't have. After all, he was the High Lord, and finding a suitable partner to rule his court with, and of course produce an heir, would be a natural priority for him.

"Of course, Eris," you replied, your tone as composed as you could manage. 

Why had the notion left you so uncomposed?

He smirked then softly “You were right about having a pretty thing on my arm. It worked…Plus it’s probably about time.”

You paused for a moment, your own lips spreading into a smile at what he had said. A younger version of you would have relished in this, being called ‘pretty’ by him. Perhaps, there was a version of you now that enjoyed it too.

"I'll begin looking into potential suitors for you right away." You decided to say, not trusting your usual snarky remarks.

“You can even look for those outside of Autumn, to help with your peace treaty and alliances or whatever. No one from that bastard Night Court though.”

You nodded with a soft chuckle. He had given you an olive branch. A martial alliance would be a great addition to this new era of peace.

Things were falling into place better than you had expected.

But beneath the surface, there was a pang, a feeling you couldn't quite decipher. Something you didn't dare acknowledge even to yourself.

༄ 

Dawn Court

Dawn had been the easier of the four courts to manage, with Thesan being your own High Lord. You had both arranged an in-person meeting for his people to gather and discuss their concerns in the flesh.

During Amarantha's reign, Dawn had stood steadfast in protecting its borders, thanks in part to your efforts. Reflecting on that time was hard, it brought back a mix of emotions and memories, ones you liked to leave in the depth of your mind. But the duty to defend your home had never sat comfortably with you, yet it was a responsibility you willingly shouldered. As a result, you had earned the admiration and affection of your people. 

It was ironic how once some of them had considered you and your family as outsiders, but now they revered you, often laying flowers at your feet. Pressing gifts into your hands and singing your blessings when you walked the streets. The praises and gifts had quietened down since the conflicts, but you often found a bouquet of flowers at your front door, or were stopped in the streets to be embraced.

Despite the concerns shared by all of Prythian, Dawn exhibited a sense of optimism amid the lingering apprehension about border openings. Morale remained low, and safety remained a paramount concern, but there was an obvious excitement about the prospect of travelling between courts. They wanted this new peace treaty to succeed, and they were willing to help in any way they could to change that.

For two days, you assisted Thesan in managing the affairs of Dawn, aiding him in delegating tasks and prioritising court matters. As the sun set on your final night, you retired to your townhouse nestled in the heart of the city. 

As you slumped into your living room, the sound of a deep voice filled the space. "And she finally finishes," the voice chuckled warmly.

Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa were sprawled across your couch and armchairs, making themselves at home in the space you had graciously offered them for their gatherings when they were in Prythian. They had a manor in the mortal lands, but you opened your home to them for when they needed to be more inland. 

You greeted them with a smile, leaning down to plant soft kisses on Vassa and Jurian's cheeks in greeting, before turning to Lucien. You passed him a small box, with a slice of Pumpkin Cream Pie inside. It elicited a chuckle as he picked up the slice.

“Oh you treat me so well doll.” he smirked, before devouring the slice in a few bites.

"So, have you not been on the continent?" you asked, finding your place next to Lucien and propping your feet up on his lap as you sank back into the couch.

You were utterly exhausted.

The first few weeks of this you had anticipated to be tough, but the amount of work was somewhat excessive. And it would start all over again tomorrow. The cycle repeating. Summer, Night, Autumn, Dawn.

"We were, but these two insisted on seeing you, and for the upcoming week, it's easier for them to be among the solar courts," Lucien explained with a shrug.

Vassa offered a small smile, though her discomfort at using your home without you was evident.

"Don't worry about it," you reassured her, waving off her concerns. You had known what she wanted to say within the unspoken. "My home is yours to use as you please. Besides, I'm hardly here these days anyway, so please, make yourselves at home."

With that, Jurian flashed a grin, sauntering over to your nearby trolley bearing a decanter filled with amber liquid. He quickly poured four glasses, passing them around.

“So, give us the rundown,” Jurian inquired, his gaze shifting between the two of you. You exchanged a glance with Lucien; you hadn't even had time to correspond with him this week, a reality you believed would continue. Tilting your head slightly, you encouraged Lucien to go first, while you sipped on your drink. The alcohol instantly warming your throat.

That was exactly what you needed after the long week.

Lucien began to list the concerns and events of his week, there was a clear similarity across Phyrthian you noticed. Morale was low, and people still felt divisive. Despite the unity forged in the war, that comradery hadn’t seemed to extend. Lucien gave your sock-covered feet a playful pinch, causing you to recoil them from his lap with a feigned glare. "Your turn," he quipped, prompting you to take the floor.

You ran them through your week, highlighting the issues and developments you encountered in the courts you were managing.

"You've opened up trade agreements for Summer, got Night to agree to a school, and are on the hunt for marriage suitors for my brother... Jeez, what else?" Lucien summarised with a scoff and eye roll.

"We can't all be as good as me, Lucie," you retorted, playfully nudging him with your elbow.

"Eris didn't give you too much of a hard time, did he?" Jurian asked playfully, his tone laced with familiarity.

It was nice to see how close Lucien had gotten with Jurian and Vassa, especially since his friendship fell apart with Tamlin. Lucien deserved this, deserved a circle.

You let out a nonchalant hum, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. "You know, Eris isn't all that bad..." you trailed off, your thoughts drifting.

"Maybe not with you... He's always had a soft spot for you," Lucien interjected, shaking his head with a knowing look.

You playfully kicked your foot against his thigh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Lucien's lips. "You know exactly what it means. He's just always been softer with you."

You rolled your eyes, recalling your recent interactions with Eris. Soft was not a word you would use to describe him—perhaps playful or teasing, a little mean even, but not soft.

"What were the infamous Inner Circle like to be amongst?" Vassa interjected, redirecting the conversation.

"Fine, polite, worked hard," you replied, feeling Lucien's subtle fidgeting beside you. You knew the question he wanted to ask but didn't dare. "She wasn't there; I haven't met her yet," you added softly, referring to his mate.

You watched as your friend glanced down at his drink from your words, his usual witty exterior faltering for a moment. Lucien hadn’t indulged you in the finer details of what had transpired between him, Elain and the Shadowsinger. What had caused Elain’s abrupt withdrawal of contact from them both, but the strain it had on him was obvious. 

The one thing Lucein had shared, was that she hadn’t outright rejected the bond yet, you hoped that was some glimmer of something worth holding onto. 

Your fingers moved instinctively, reaching out to gently press against your friend's cheek. His eyes fluttered shut momentarily at your touch, before you playfully pulled on his cheek with a tug. "Get out of that pretty little head of yours, Lucie," you teased, tapping his cheek once more.

The touch had pulled his mind back to reality, as he swore under his breath and smacked your hand away. 

"Gods, you fae are so complicated, with all your complexities, bonds and relationships," Jurian quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You couldn't deny he had a point. Whether politically, platonically, or romantically, there always seemed to be layers upon layers, it’s what was making your new job all that much harder.

"Oh like you humans are any better." Lucien retorted quickly, there was a playfulness in his tone as he sipped on his drink.

"I'm sure if everyone got together and shared some drinks, we'd all be fine," Vassa added, as she raised her drink in the air. The liquid sloshing in her glass.

"Yeah, why can't we all just get shit-faced and go dancing or something? Nothing bonds people like a shared hangover," Jurian grinned.

The room filled with laughter as Lucien remarked something about the last time Jurian was hungover, Vassa quipping in. Your thoughts left you for a moment as they drifted to what Jurian had said.

Getting drunk and dancing had always been a release you’d loved, one shared by most fae and humans. Perhaps one the the few similarities you all shared. And although "getting shit-faced" wasn't the most elegant phrase, the sentiment behind it rang true.

“You two are actually onto something there…” you spoke, the words leaving your lips as your idea formed in your mind. You’d sat up now, looking at Lucien who only frowned at you.

"I'm pretty sure we can't arrange for everyone to have a huge piss-up," Lucien remarked dryly. “As much as I’d love it, it doesn’t feel very…appropriate.”

"We’re obviously not going to organise some sleazy boozer” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Shame.” Jurian piped up.

“But we can arrange a ball.” You smiled that dangerous grin that you knew Lucien found hard to ignore. “Phyrthian’s first ever Peace Ball” you continued, coining the term there and then.

Lucien leaned back into the couch, still looking at you as he digested your words. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, perhaps figuring out logistics for your outrageous idea. 

But slowly that fox-like grin you loved so much spread across his lips.

He put his glass up in the air “A fucking Peace Ball…”

You quickly raised your glass with a chuckle, Vassa and Jurian raising theirs too. 

Trade agreements, a school, diplomatic martial arrangments and now…a fucking Peace Ball. Lucien had made the right call bringing you on board; there was no one more convincing, more persuasive in all of Prythian. You and your pretty words would bring peace to this land, even if you had to force it upon them.

“Cheers!” 

Next Part >> coming soon.

a/n: Decided to post this early, sorry again if it's a little boring, just trying to set everything up. Would love to know what you think so far. How are you expecting this story to unfold? Is there anything in particular you're hoping to see with the story/characters/relationships? Would love your input <3 - Lottie