#Tell me about your Sidesteps

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

What’s up I have a different username here than on AO3 BUT an end to all these violent means updates and my day is instantly made better so I wouldn’t *complain* about you writing more

My Sidestep Arsinoe exclusively puts people they care abt on a personal level in their phone as lightly snarky nicknames, even if those nicknames are Immediately Identifiable as the people they belong to. They initially justify it as plausible deniability about who’s in their phone contacts but it’s mostly about Nicknames as Affection, and they don’t really like more standard pet names because they feel less personal, to them, so it’s Various Nicknames all the way down. Voted most likely to accidentally out themself as a villain by accidentally calling Daniel “Flyboy” in costume.

Hello from the other side, friend! I will, perhaps, work a little more on the next chapter for you. It's another Corin chapter, so I'm gnashing at the bit for it.

I maintain that Arsinoe is a sweetheart. That's very cute of them.

Rashad doesn't keep contacts saved in their phone - too paranoid of it falling into the wrong hands. They have the most important numbers memorized. It renders Ricardo speechless when they can recite local delivery and restaurant phone numbers without even hesitating.

Mateo has no names in his contacts page. Just numbers. Between his mini mafia and his hero friends, he simply doesn't want the awkwardness of anyone asking about a name they don't recognize. *cough* Ortega *cough* He knows them based on the last four digits, for the most part. The monster.

[sidesteppostinghours]

steps whose genders are "regene" send tweet

[wintaerbaer]

bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.” 

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends���” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso. 

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3

[bi-writes]

Do you think MOB's ex would ever come looking for her one day?

mail-order bride

simon opens the door for you, taking your hand as you get out of his truck. you brush off the front of your jeans, smiling as you step around him and onto the sidewalk.

"said an hour or so?" simon mutters, shutting the door behind you. you nod, looking around at the shops.

"yeah, i just need some things, but i also wanna look around. maybe get some books or something...i don't know."

simon shrugs, flipping his hood up over his head. he bends to give you a kiss over the mask, and you thumb at his jaw gently.

"i'll pick ya up 'ere in an hour then," simon murmurs. "call me if ya need somethin', love. and if yer not back 'ere in an hour and ya haven't texted me, i'll come lookin' for ya."

you giggle, "i know, simon. i'll see you."

he smiles under the mask, you can tell by the way it moves and the way his eyes crinkle a little. you lean up and give him another kiss over the mask before making your way down the main road, stepping into a boutique to look for some new clothes. you wave at simon as he passes by, and he salutes you before driving off.

you love spending time in town. you love visiting the shops, getting pastries, having some tea by the bookstore and buying little trinkets from the antique shop. simon likes the cheese shop. they sell some of his favorite french cheese, and they have wonderful wines that they pair with it that you love drinking together for dinner. you pick up a bottle along with some cheeses and bread, and just as you leave the shop, you bump right into a solid back, dropping one of your bags and nearly tripping into the road.

"oh, fucking hell!"

you gasp, clutching the rest of your bags to yourself. the man turns around, glaring at you, and you feel sick.

what the fuck is he doing here?

"oh well...isn't this a wonderful surprise?" he snorts. you pick up your fallen bag and straighten up, stepping back to create distance between you.

"hi..." you clear your throat. "i...i'm meeting someone, i have to go--"

"oh, where are you going?"

he blocks you from stepping around him. you meet his eyes, taking a deep breath. he always liked being able to control every aspect of you, from where you stood to what you did that day. your skittishness...your apprehensiveness...it's ingrained in you from your time with him. it's hard to explain being afraid of someone who never even really touched you, but you left before you thought it could get that far.

"that's really none of your business," you say softly. "excuse me."

he sidesteps again when you do, and this time you frown.

"you..." you glare at him. "...need to get out of my way."

he grins, a humorless laugh coming out of him. you don't like the way he's standing there, and you don't like how calm he is.

"oh, i didn't realize little kitty had grown some claws."

maybe you have. you've started to shed your scared exterior, mostly because there is someone behind you now, someone bound to you, supportive enough to make you more confident, braver, stronger. you stand a little taller, clenching your jaw, and you close the distance, stepping closer, and you cant your chin up so you can look at him hard.

"i don't know what you're doing here," you say lowly, "but you need to get the fuck out of my way, or you're going to have some other problems that you certainly can't handle."

he raises a hand, about to touch the lapel of your jacket. you grip his wrist, holding him there, and you tilt your head to the side.

"and if you touch me, you'll be sorry for it. now step aside, asshole, or i will make it a very hard day for you."

"c'mon," he chuckles. "let's go get a drink. there's a pub just down that way--"

"what part of no, and get out of my way, makes you think i wanna have a drink with you?" you scoff. "are you serious? are you that stupid that you think--"

"you listen here," he snaps, pointing his finger, getting in your face. "it's not my fault that you're--"

you step backwards when a big hand comes around you, snatching his wrist and yanking his finger out of your face. you look to your side to see simon standing there, shuffling in front of you, putting himself between you.

"now, i don't much care for interrupting, but you've got y'r fuckin' finger in my wife's face, and i'd like to know why."

you take a glance at your watch, and you realize it's past the time simon said he would pick you up. you sigh, reaching up and sliding your hand up simon's arm, and he lets go.

"it's fine," you tell him. "he was just on his way out."

he's shaking. stumbling backwards, clutching his wrist, glancing between you two. simon holds his hand out finally, beckoning him.

"your wallet."

"w-what?"

"give me y'r bloody wallet," simon snaps.

"simon--" you try, but he clicks his tongue as he snatches the wallet from him, shuffling an ID card out before reading his name out loud, and his address. simon chuckles darkly, cracking his neck before tossing the wallet at his chest.

"i know y'r name," simon murmurs. "and i know where ya put y'r head at night. where ya piss. where ya change y'r clothes. if i ever see ya talk to my wife again...if i even see ya walk down the same fuckin' road as 'er, i'll come and visit you. and we'll 'ave a chat."

"r-right, i--" he stuffs his wallet into his pocket before leaving, hurrying down the road. he doesn't even look back, doesn't look behind him. when simon turns around, you can tell just by looking into his eyes that he's angry.

he reaches over and takes the shopping bags from you, holding them in his sweaty fists as he nods his head towards his truck down the road.

"let's go," he snaps, and you hurry to follow him, reaching for his bicep. you hold onto it gently, stopping him, tugging him towards you as you block him by stepping in front of him.

"simon," you look up at him. "hey--"

"who was tha'?" he asks.

"a terrible nobody," you say softly. "one that i would rather forget."

"i--"

"thank you," you interrupt him gently. "for standing up for me. thank you...thank you for always believing me. for supporting me. for always showing up when it matters, thank you..."

simon bends, leaning his forehead against yours, and he breathes in shakily.

"your pain is mine," simon mutters. "your...discomfort is my discomfort, your joy is my joy."

you both close your eyes, smiling, and he hums when he feels another kiss, soft, the lightest press against his mouth that he feels ten times stronger than normal.

"i love you, simon," you whisper. you hear the bags drop onto the floor, and then two big hands cup your face, leaning it back, and he stares down at you almost painfully. it feels like you aren't real. he feels like it must be a dream, like this can't be his reality.

"i love you more, baby."

but when simon opens his eyes, you're still there.

[kaeyas-beloved]

a moment too late

Characters: Ayato, Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Wriothesley, Zhongli

— your husband doesn't make it to you in time...

CW: ANGST w/ very little to no comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), scars (Diluc), blood (Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Zhongli), death (all except Cyno and Diluc), kidnapping (Cyno), minor Fontaine Act 1 + 4 spoilers (Primordial Sea Water - iykyk), spoilers for Childe’s real name

val's no sympathy novemeber masterlist

I don't know if I can take a month of hurting my boys....

Thinking about them not making it in time...

Ayato, who had been in an important meeting.

He'd given strict instructions to all his retainers and the Shuumatsuban to not interrupt under any circumstance. So, when one of the newer helpers knocked on the door, the commissioner was less than pleased. Without letting the young man get a word out, Ayato cuts him off, a sharp smile on his face. "Please, wait outside. I'll deal with the matter after this."

When the retainer tried again, a feeble "but, my lord-!" sputtering over his twisted tongue, the change in Ayato's tone couldn't be missed, and it left no room for interjections.

When a second knock echoed through the room some minutes later, it took everything in the clan head not to sigh out loud in front of all the powerful politicians and businessmen. This time, however, when it was the familiar face of Thoma that stepped in, a scarily straight face as his expression, something shifted in the male. It didn't help that the pyro user didn't stop his advancement toward him, even at the call of his name.

It was like the whole world shattered the moment the blond leaned by his ear, the news that you'd been placed in the nearest hospital plummetting his heart into his stomach.

There's this inner struggle that takes over, the role of a leader and your husband fighting against one another - he can't just leave so abruptly, but he also feels like he might crumble if he isn't by your side in the next ten seconds.

It's the firm hand that's placed on his shoulder that breaks him away from his thoughts. Following the arm he meets the slight smile of Thoma, "I have this handled, my lord. Go, be with them."

He's up and out of the room in an instant, briskly walking in the direction of the hospital. When he gets there he borderline demands the receptionist to tell him your room number, off again the moment she gets the last syllable out. Just as he reaches the curtain separating you from him, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, a doctor steps out.

"Lord Kamisato..." his tone is grave as he blocks the entrance with his body. Despite the obvious attempt to stop the young lord from entering, your husband tries to sidestep him. He's stopped by a simple raise of the hand and he feels a mix of disdain and unsettlement swirl within.

"Please, let me speak with them," Ayato nothing but begs, something he never does. He's known as a negotiator, a logical reasoning man, he doesn't need to beg for what he needs in the political world, but for you, his world, he'd gladly grovel at this man's feet just for you.

The aforementioned man licks his lips, adjusting his clipboard so it rests against his chest, "I'm sorry Mr. Kamisato, but that won't be possible..."

The urgency rises and Ayato moves the doctor out of his way, stepping into your room. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together about what was trying to be said, but your lover can't bring himself to believe it. Not you too.

The moment he's at your bedside he leans close, trying to wear a smile as he places his hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you the exact same way he did that very morning. "My dear... wake up. This is no time for your silly tricks, we have to go home and have dinner together like I promised." His warm hands move up to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your equally warm skin, but when you make no move or noise the reality finally sets in for him.

His broken smile slips and all he can manage is a soft call of your name. Of course, there's still no answer, and Ayato is stuck flipping between the different stages of grief.

What if he'd listened the first time? Let the retainer who initially walked in speak? Would he have gotten a chance to speak with you? To tell you he loves you? To say goodbye properly?

You can't actually be dead, right? There's no way this is happening to him again.

He starts to promise to spend more time with you, he'll take off as much time as you want him to, he'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to go to but couldn't bring yourself to without him, he'll visit the land of Liyue with you - he knows you've been gushing about the scenery and culture recently. He'll do it all and more, you just had to open your eyes again for him.

Silence.

"Damn it all..." he whispered, face twisting in agony. Of course he couldn't have it his way this time. As if his parents weren't enough, the world just had to take you away from him too.

The doctor watches for a moment as one of the most powerful men in Inazuma sheds tear after tear before him, the droplets falling and hitting your lifeless body. As Ayato sinks to his knees before you, the doctor takes this as his cue to step out.

For the next few hours, the hospital is noticeably quieter, no one daring to interrupt a man who's just lost one of the dearest people to him.

For the next few hours, Ayato's tears slowly soak your shirt, his grip on the bedding knuckle white, his sobs muffled by your skin as it slowly grows colder and colder, fighting to commit everything about you to memory.

That night, he could not bring himself to eat dinner, for all he could remember was you, the way you smiled at him and how it was all ripped away from him, never to be seen again.

———

Diluc, whose connections are spread all over the world yet no one could locate you.

It should be impossible. The owner of Dawn Winery only associates himself with competent business partners. So, how could it be that the best of the best from all walks of life and all backgrounds couldn't locate the one person he needed to find?

Tirelessly, the redhead looked for you. Many sleepless nights weighed on him from shouldering so many responsibilities at once. He constantly asked for updates on the investigation and every time the news that there were no advances was just another layer of stress for him. So, of course, the moment the word of your location reached his ears, Diluc was up and out the door, claymore in hand, a fury in his eyes that few have seen only a handful of times.

When he got there, there being some far corner of Starfell Valley on the mountainside, there was no time to process or ask questions. All he knew was that you needed help if you wanted even a chance of making it out alive.

By a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the Abyss Mages that had been holding you hostage, an atrocious act that was no doubt aimed to make The Darknight Hero suffer. However, weaponless and exhausted, the creatures of down under easily caught up to you, surrounding you and throwing you around like a ragdoll. Diluc counted seven - one hydro, two electro, two cryo and two pyro - each using the elements to keep you from running too far.

With a few swift strikes of his enflamed claymore, the cryo and hydro mages disappeared in a cloud of red and black. Of course, they'd be the easiest of the group to get rid of. The last four would be the real challenge.

In between strikes, Diluc managed to get close to you, bending down to your fallen form. “Are you alright? Can you walk?” He did a once over of your body, noting that dirt clung to you and a couple cuts littered your skin. You could barely move too, having the shit kicked out of you.

“Not very far…” you groaned, raising your body slightly off the ground. Your lover nodded, glancing at the enemy before helping you stand.

“That’s alright, just get to that tree over there. I’ll come get you and take you home soon.” Diluc watches for a moment as you nod and begin to make your way over, turning his back to you once you've made decent progress. Taking up his weapon once more, it's a brutal clash of sparks and fire as he lets his adrenaline and rage fuel his every move. Soon, one electro mage goes down, and then the second and then one of the pyro ones until all that stands between him and getting you medical care and a nice bath is a single pyro Abyss Mage.

The demonic creature cackles loudly, a shrill sound that echoes in the silence. As it begins to wave its staff, a shock of recognition strikes Diluc and he glances around, looking for where the fire-breathing faces are going to appear. When he doesn't spot any dread fills his being and he chances a glance towards you, praying to the Archons that what he's thinking isn't about to play out.

The gods weren't in his favour.

Time seems to slow as he watches the triangle of heads surround you; he watches as you slowly turn to face one head-on, your tired eyes widening as you register the situation. Dilcu's only able to catch you turning your face away before he attacks the mage while its guard is down, interrupting its early dance of victory.

The next few minutes are a blur, both for you and your husband. Everything hurts, any slight movement or breath sends shooting pain through your body. When Diluc picks you up off the ground you let out the most heartbreaking cry he's heard and it took everything in him not to just stand there and soothe you.

He mumbled apology after apology, offering words of comfort as he ran as best he could without harming you further. When he made it to the cathedral he was ushered out of the room, every nun available flocking to your side. Despite the overwhelming emotions building in him, Diluc lets you go, waiting with as much patience as he can muster, which isn't a lot at that moment.

It takes about an hour before a sister approaches him, every second that he waited excruciating. She tells him that while your face was unharmed, you having managed to lean out of the way just in time, your upper arm, shoulder and the base of your neck on your left side were burned pretty bad and that scarring was almost guaranteed.

"But are they alive?" is all he asks in return. He cares that you were hurt, but he cares more to know if you'll live to spend another day with him. All the sister can do is nod, informing him that recovery will be slow, but you are alive. She adds right after that while you passed out from everything he was still allowed to enter and sit by your side. So, he does.

The nun didn't lie when she told him that things would be slow. It took several days before you could be discharged, and even when you were the days and nights that followed were filled with more torture than the usual joy.

Your burns would irritate at the slightest things, and you started to doubt your looks, wondering if your husband would still love you by the end when the wounds were all healed. At night you were haunted by nightmares of your time in captivity, and by the face of the abyss spell that burned you. It didn't help that the face was red and fluffy, just like Diluc's hair, leaving you to back away from him every time you woke up from that recurring dream, your mind tricking you that that thing had come back.

And all Diluc could do was hold you close to his chest once you saw that it was just him. He'd rub a warm hand along your back as you sobbed and shivered, quietly blaming himself for not being fast enough - to find you, to defeat the enemy, to get you out of the way of the fight. If he had been, if he succeeded in any of those things, then maybe you wouldn't have to live with this pain and trauma.

You were alive, but at what cost?

———

Childe, who was all the way in Inazuma for a mission.

Your husband left you that fateful day with a tight hug, a promise to come home and a kiss on the lips. As he walked further and further away from you all you could think about was greeting him in the same fashion. Your touch was his favourite thing after all, a reminder that you're there with him and that you love him despite all his wrongdoings.

The day came when Ajax set foot back in his homeland, and the first thing he did was search for you at the dock. When he didn't spot you, he'll admit he was a little disappointed but didn't think much of it. You were most likely just relaxing at home.

Yet, when he walked through the door he couldn’t find you anywhere. “Strange… where could they have gone? Maybe mom and dad’s?”

A quick trip over there reveals nothing however, just the tidbit of information from his mother on how it’s been a couple days since you’ve visited and that you last told them you were needing to chop some firewood.

Now he was not only confused but a sense of dread plagued his chest. Hoping it’s just his normal worrying, Ajax bids farewell to his family and heads back home. Sure enough, he spotted some stacked logs off to the side. What didn’t make sense though was the lack of an axe and the footprints that lead further into the tree line behind your home.

Following the tracks, the male’s eyes widen and his expression falls as the patterns in the snow go from clean prints to frantic clusters, as if you began running. What really injected fear into him though was the barely visible Treasure Hoarder insignia buried in the snow, its gold sheen glistening from the sun.

At this point his feet had a mind of their own as he picked up the pace, his mind running a mile a minute with the scariest thoughts his brain could conjure.

He wasn’t sure if he should've been relieved or frightened when he found you lying in the snow. Either way, he sprinted the rest of the way to you, calling out your name. You were on your side, back to him; you must’ve rolled into the fetal position to stay warm.

And that’s when he noticed it, the pink tint of the usually pure white snow surrounding your fallen form. Panic shoots through him as he rolls you onto your back, his hand recoiling at the state you were in, covering his mouth.

"No..." your cold gaze stares up at the sky, skin lacking the warmth he craves after a long day. Between the folds of your undone coat reveals where most, if not all the blood flowed from, now dry from days passed. With a shaky hand, he moves the cloth aside, surveying the damage.

The cut was deep but didn't hit anything major from the looks of it... you would have bleed out slow and painfully, and the mere idea makes him sick to his stomach. More and more he looks at the damage done to you and the more his blood boils and his heart stutterers. You were innocent, his spouse, his best friend, you had no intimate dealings with Fatui work, so why you?

His eyes narrow back in the direction of the insignia, the sorrow morphing into anger; they were fucking cowards, going after you instead of him. At the sanctuary of your home no less.

Looking back at the body that once housed your soul, he noticed something odd about your hand. It was clasped shut like you were holding onto something.

He starts to pry your fingers open, and for just a moment he can imagine that you're alive, back in the warmth of your home, grasping his scarf in a game of keep away. He'd pull you close, wrapping an arm around you and trapping you to his chest, grasping your wrist and trying to get the red fabric from you. Your husband would laugh merrily, "demanding" that you give him it back or else, to which you'd tell him no, because as long as you had it then he couldn't leave for the day.

When your palm finally opens up is the same moment time really stops and the world doesn't feel real around him. Picking up the small object, Ajax clasps it in his own hands, bringing it close to his chest - his heart - in hopes of feeling just the last bit of you left behind. He won't ever know this, but what he's doing now was exactly what you did in your final hour - you held the tangible promise you made with him close to you, your thoughts filled with him and only him as you took your last breath.

From that day onwards, your wedding ring rests against his collarbone, a string looped through it. He never takes it off, nor does he remove his own ring, because to him, you were the only one fit to take the place at his side in life. He doesn't want anyone else to love him, because no one could ever love or hold him in such high regard like you did.

It was everything or nothing, and you are his everything. Since you're gone, he'll gladly settle for nothing. Anything else and he'd label himself a cheater to your love.

———

Cyno, who prioritized catching the mastermind, lest any more innocents get hurt.

The General Mahamatra trudged back through the desert sands, clouds of dust trailing behind him. His grip was tight against the criminal’s wrists, leaving no room for escape. While part of him was solely focused on the captured mastermind, another part of him was thinking about you and how he's going to make it up to you for neglecting you the last few weeks. How could he ever possibly thank you or repay you for your neverending patience?

Rounding the last rock, Cyno finally makes it back to where he left you, having instructed you to wait there until he returned. You know that it was vital to stay put, so why is it that you've disappeared? Eyes red like the sunset scan the camp, finding that nothing was missing among your personal belongings or supplies.

As he continued to try and piece together the clues, you stood frozen in the shadows, an arm pulling you against a chest, keeping you in place. The hand over your mouth didn't help quell your fear, nor did the warm, rancid breath that tickled your neck.

How hard do you have to stare at the back of your lover's head for him to just turn in your direction!? Apparently very hard, because no matter how much you will a telepathic message his way, he still fails to find you. Tears begin to slide down your face - is this really it? Will this be the end? When he's so close to you? Will he turn and walk in the wrong direction, giving the man holding you time to escape with you in tow?

The looming threat that if you step out of line you risk harming yourself and Cyno plays in your mind, but you also remember nights lying in bed with your husband, whispering reassurance to him that no matter the situation you knew he'd always save you. You had full confidence in his abilities.

Gathering your resolve you take a leap of faith and elbow your captor, biting the hand that impairs your voice. Making a mad dash from the hiding spot, you scream for Cyno, watching as his head whips in your direction.

It all happened so fast after that. One second there's just you, him and the two Eremites and in the next, you're surrounded. The mastermind Cyno had been holding manages to retch his arms free, whistling a tune causing other desert dwellers to pop up from seemingly nowhere. A capture net is being thrown over you, aiming true and trapping you once more. Cyno, now flanked from all sides, can only watch helplessly as two men grasp the ends of the net, dragging you like you're nothing but a sack of goods.

You squirm with all your might, but it does nothing as you're effortlessly tossed in a caravan, screaming and sobbing for your husband. Amidst the scuffle, the leader orders the others to "shut them up" and right after a powder is poured on you, the effects taking seconds to kick in.

You begin to quiet until you slump on your side, and Cyno feels the urgency build even more. He channels all the strength he has into at least breaking through to get to you, but the moment he does the snap of reins echoes out and the cart takes off.

So, he runs, because for once something much for valuable that his life is on the line. Because he can't afford to let the bad guy get away this time.

But a man cannot match the pace of a horse, and it isn't long before his stamina reaches its limit and he stumbles, and you disappear over the horizon.

———

Wriothesley, who believed he could save everyone.

By no means was the warden of the Fortress of Meropide lacking in skills. He's proven time and time again that he's worthy of the title of Duke among the underwater structure, able to shoulder the responsibility of keeping each and every inmate well cared for and as comfortable as possible.

Perhaps that was the reason he's failing now to protect those he really cares for, for you were no inmate, but rather the person he swore to spend the rest of his life with.

He knew that this day would come, but he was still so, so unprepared for it. The damn seal was due to break sooner or later, and it chose today of all days to do so. The evacuation was quick, maybe even quicker than the first one, but there was one difference this time around. Today was also the day that a couple Melusines had come in Monsieur Neuvillette's place, delivering some reports to Wriothesley while also taking this time to speak with Sigewinne.

"Where are they?" The Duke grits his teeth, running through every area he can reach. You weren't far behind, having insisted a second pair of eyes was better than one. When another room turned up empty he slammed his first into the wall, cursing loudly.

You did another look through in the places he missed before sighing, placing a hand on his chest, "We'll find them Wrio. Take a deep breath, please." He stares at you for a moment, doing as you suggested. You offer a small smile, "There aren't many rooms left, they've gotta be here."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, "but we're running out of time."

Just as he says that the building rumbles and shakes, the sound of a pipe bursting in the distance sending fear through your body. All it takes is a shared look for you two to start running again, eyes and ears sharp as you try to catch even the slightest signs of life.

There were only two rooms left to check when you heard a call, not by a Melusine but by a pair of inmates. Turning to look, your stress levels spike.

“Shit, this isn’t good,” Wriothesley mutters, surveying the situation the moment you both made it over. One of the inmates was trapped underneath a metal panel, and his buddy wasn’t strong enough to lift it off him on his own.

They plead for help and you can see the cool grey eyes of your lover start to unfocus, a million thoughts passing through his mind. Time is running out, and as he's internally about to lose his cool the sound of your voice brings him back.

Laying a hand on his shoulder you squeeze firmly, "Listen, how about we split up? You deal with this and I go find the Melusines. We'll be faster that way."

His eyes widen at your proposition, and he doesn't even have to think twice about denying, "Now, hold on just a-!"

Another tremor, and you have to harden your tone to get your point across, “We don’t have time Wriothesley, help them and I’ll search the two rooms. When you’re done get them out of here, I won’t be far behind!”

He wants to say no, wants you to get to the surface and he'll take care of the inmate and missing Melusines, but as he looks at the crumbling Fortress he finds himself biting his lips before nodding. "You better stay safe, or else."

You smile, turning and disappearing into the second last room. A quick search proves nothing and when you leave you see your husband beginning to pull out the stuck inmate. You're able to meet gazes for a moment only to break it off, rushing into the last room.

It's easy to spot the brightly coloured blue beings amongst the dreary Fortress walls. "Thank Archons!" You sigh, almost tripping over your feet in your hurry to get them, scooping them up in your arms, "we have to go now you two!"

There's a groan of metal and the clatter of something collapsing in the distance, and it's safe to say you didn't waste time sprinting out of there. As you pass where you last saw your husband, there's a momentary wave of relief at seeing him no longer lingering there. You know then that he's gotten out, and that he's probably waiting anxiously for you.

The thought pushes you to get out faster, jumping over any puddles that have formed or debris. But just because you can jump doesn't mean you can dodge.

One piece then two fell from above, but when you look up dread courses through you upon the realization that a good section of the roof is about to drop. You acted before you could fully think and tossed the two tiny beings in your arms, sprinting just a little faster before leaping yourself. You're glad you managed to throw them out of the collapse zone, but you weren't so lucky, your leg getting trapped from midway to your knee and down under the pile of rubble. All it took was one attempt at tugging your leg out to know it was stuck under there good.

"Go," you pointed in the direction of the exit, immediately beginning to dig yourself out. The least you could do was get them to safety. The Melusines however hesitated, looking at each other before looking at you again. You knew they weren't strong enough to lift anything off you, so you repeated the one-word order, adding that you'd be right behind them.

You hear more than you see them run off, and after a minute of struggling you manage to free yourself, continuing towards the exit.

Wriothesley didn't stick around the entrance, instead busying himself with checking on everyone. If he didn't then he'd go mad and rush back in to get you. As he made another round he spotted the two creatures of the sea clutching onto the Iudex, their heads buried in his neck. If they were safe, then you must've made it out too, right?

Wriothesley gives the order to close the Fortress of Meropide off completely, and he watches unaware as he cages you in. It's only by chance that, once he's almost to the surface, he looks out the window of his escape submarine and through one of the windows of the Fortress. The horror sets in.

Even if it's useless, you stumble and limp up to the glass, banging on it, screaming for him. You're not sure what he'd do though, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time, wanted to tell him you love him, that it's not his fault. You stare at him, tears streaming down your face before turning your back to the ocean and sliding down to the ground.

Even if he can't hear you, you whisper out your love for him, how you'd never hold this against him. You pray to the Archons, to the Traveler, to Neuvillette, to Clorinde to watch over him for you.

You eye the rising water, and to make it just a little more bearable you pretend it's the first time you got Wriothesley to go swimming with you. You had dip your toes in first, as a show that the water wouldn't bite. He wasn't scared of the water, and he knew how to swim; he wasn't ashamed of the scars on his body either. No, he refused to go swimming back then because he didn't want to freeze, and it took you and the trust he placed in your word to tell him the water was perfect.

So, you repeat that same action, imagining Wriothesley is right beside you like that day years ago.

From the water pod, your husband watches frozen as you vanish in an instant, continuing to watch as the water rises until it's above the height of the glass. In that single moment, most of the warmth in his heart vanishes along with you.

"You promised you'd be safe... I trusted you..."

It was the first and last time any prisoner would see the almighty Wriothesley cry out, for he swore sometime later that he'd close off his heart and never let anyone get as close as you did. He knows deep down that's not what you'd want, but he knew he could never go through the same pain again and still continue to live.

———

Zhongli, who you were fighting side by side with.

It's always been like that, you and him up in arms against the world. It was like that in the Archon War, in the Cataclysm and any other time someone threatened the safety of the Lord of Geo's territory. You had his back and he had yours, something that only grew stronger as your relationship developed from war buddies to friends then finally to lovers.

It was... naive of you both to think that you'd be able to spend eternity together without issue. You were too blinded by the fact that you were both going to withstand time and he believed that there was no way he'd fail to protect you, not with the strength he possessed.

Your downfall was not due to time or a lack of strength, but rather your own desire to keep the man you love safe from harm.

Zhongli did not see the sword pierce your skin, but he did hear the strangled cry you let out. He felt the fear wash over him, he saw the bloody aftermath as you fell forward into him, no longer able to hold yourself upright.

Instinctively he wraps his arms around you, sinking to the grass with you. Crimson stains his hands and clothes fast as if the wound was his own and he knows right then that your time together is limited.

The pain you feel is searing and with each breath you take you're fighting to keep that air in your lungs long enough to get more. Your husband spoke softly as he stroked your shoulder, "Why did you take the hit for me?"

When you looked up into his warm, amber eyes you knew then that this was the last time he'd hold you, the last time you'd speak with one another. How interesting it is that you both realized at different points that this was the end.

"You..." you cough, body trembling in his hold and Zhongli almost regrets asking you to speak. He just wants to make you comfortable in your last moments, to act as if everything is okay. "You... were going to get hurt."

The man you knew to never weep lets a single tear slide down his face, a light chuckle getting stuck in his throat, "ah, how like you to put me above yourself. I'm the same way with you, so I suppose I can't point fingers, now can I?"

“No… you can’t,” you smile back, but it’s tough to force it through the pain. You cough again and this time a little blood comes up as well.

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the seconds tick by. “Morax.”

The former Archon stiffens; you rarely ever call him by his real name unless you're serious about something. "Yes, my dear? What is it?" When he sees you trying to lift your hand to his cheek, Zhongli dips his head, placing his own hand over yours.

Glazed eyes watch as you swallow, stuttering on your own breath, "I'm... I'm very proud of the man you've become compared to the Archon I first met. I'm very proud of the things you've done for Liyue, and I'm grateful for the things you've done for me."

Your eyes droop a little, and he knows your time to depart is near when he sees you rest your head against him more and with the way he has to hold up your hand for it to stay resting on his cheek. He swears he won't let you slip away until you've said your final peace.

"I... I need you to promise me something Morax."

"You know I will always do my best to honour your wishes," he tells you, his grip tightening on your hand. A sudden breeze picks up, blowing his hair in such an elegant way that your face softens, never not amazed by his beauty. Tranquillity washes over you, and it may sound crazy, but the scent the wind brought to you smelt like home, like a simpler time in your life.

All other sounds are drowned out, the wind blowing them far away so he could hear you clearly, "You have to find happiness again... even though I won't be there for you. Can... can you promise me that?"

He pulls you impossibly closer, removing your hand just to place a gentle kiss on your palm before returning it to its place, "I promise." In that moment he feels like he's lied to you, for he believes he'll never truly recover from your death, but that doesn't mean he won't try for you. And as you smile up at him for the last time, Morax feels that he could live with his answer to you.

Much like his friends of old, he knows he'll see you in the little things around the city - a lantern, a blooming flower, a cup of tea, the fires in fireplaces - as if you're watching over him. He'll continue to walk forward as everything passes him by, mingling with the ever-changing people and culture and surrounding himself with friends, because that's what he promised you, and he wants you to see that even when you're not by his side to experience it yourself.

"I'm happy now, see? But I will never be as happy as I was with you"

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

+

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood

[luveline]

hi jadey! if you are up for it, do you think you could write reader unexpectedly doing smth nice for coworker!james, maybe she’s being kind of shy and trying not to make it a big deal while he’s trying v hard to not be all giggly heart eyes kiss kiss at her LOL thank you in advance and ilysm <3

tysm ilysm <3 fem

“Hey, killer.”

You sidestep past James bag into the nook of your desk. “Killer?” you ask, quick to drop your bag onto your chair and unbutton your coat.

“Beth told me you killed a spider in the break room. That’s not cool.”

“It was looking at me funny.” You shed your coat. “Where’s Remus?”

“Coffee.”

James doesn’t give you half as much attention as you’d wanted, turning back to his computer with an impassive expression. You swallow a cough and grab your bag, desk chair creaking as you sit. There’s a memo from Remus already tacked to your desk that asks you nicely to send him a long list of files, each written in careful print, and then a second that says good morning.

You smile at it and set them aside.

Though James doesn’t like you much, and you’re not totally sold on him, you’re starting to feel like you’re part of a team. It’s a hearty feeling to belong somewhere, to know you’re valuable, even if you’re only punching numbers in and swapping spreadsheets. So you’d seen the green tube boxes in the shops and you’d decided on a whim to get them. Perhaps it would inspire some sweetness from James. If he stops putting your mug in the freezer, you’ll be happy.

“I got you something.”

James tilts his head to the side but doesn’t look up. “Huh?”

The office lights aren’t as complimentary to his brown skin as the sun where it’s rising outside of your window. It warms his face and neck, and lightens the dark mop of his hair, his flyaways like silver scrapings.

You take one of the boxes from your bag and place it on the edge of his desk. You’ll give the second to Remus when he comes back.

“It’s one of your Smiskis,” you say, “but they’re exercise ones. I know you lift weights, there’s one with dumbbells. I want the hula hoop one.”

“Where did you get this?” he asks, looking at you with clear surprise. His thick brows rise. His smile is unmissable.

“They were three for two at Sainsbury’s. I got one for me and one for Remus, as well.”

James curls a lovely hand around the box. You pretend not to watch, quickly diverting your gaze to your bag to grab a Smiski for yourself. You can’t look up, can’t explain why on earth you thought it would be a good idea, really. You saw them and you thought of him and you’re entitled to lie about the two for three thing, it’s none of his business how much money you spend.

You dig your nail into the lid and rip it open.

“You look awfully smiley, Jamie,” Remus greets, approaching from your side to round the desks and place down his big mug of coffee. You chance a glance at the both of them and catch a half second of James’ ridiculous smile. “What made you so happy so early in the morning?”

“Nothing. Uh, just killer over here brought us some presents.” James tips the bag from inside of his box onto the desk mat.

“Really?” Remus asks.

You offer him his box over your monitors.

“Thank you,” he says. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s nothing,” you say with a hurried shake of the head, looking down at your own mystery Smiski. They’re nondescript little people who glow with a green UV sheen, and you hadn’t seen the appeal to begin with, but each morning you make sure to fix James’ if he’s toppled over. He never tells you off for it. “I just want one for myself, that’s all.”

You open them in tandem. Your figurine is sitting with its legs out in a v-shape and arms stretching down to its toes. Remus’ is slightly smaller perched on a yoga ball. James, apparently having all the luck in the world, unveils a Smiski struggling to lift a dumbbell from the ground.

“I love him,” you say with a pleased laugh.

“He’s brilliant,” Remus says.

“Thank you so much.”

Your smile gets caught on your mouth. James’ tone isn’t strange but unfamiliar —he speaks without a hint of irony. His grin is full of an emotion you don’t recognise. Too happy. Too friendly.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

They’re both kind enough to ignore your mild breathlessness. “No, seriously, thank you, she’s so cool. I didn’t know we could get these ones yet over here.” James puts his weightlifting Smiski in pride of place atop his outgoings. “Sirius is going to be jealous. I'm sending him a photo.”

You feel Remus’ eyes on you. He stares until you look at him, eyebrows wriggling. “Thank you for my toy,” he says.

“They’re not toys, lovely Moony, they’re figurines,” James says, leaning down and angling his phone. He snaps a few photos from different positions. He can’t seem to stop smiling. “Aw, look at her. She’s sick as hell. She’s gonna get so swole.”

You wrinkle your nose and sweep your rubbish into the wastebasket. Swole isn’t the word you’d use. Ever. But if it makes him happy…

“This is the best thing that’s happened to me all week,” James mumbles to himself, before clearing his throat extra thoroughly. “This doesn’t change the fact that you killed that poor spider, you know. What was it doing to you?”

“I crushed her by accident opening a cupboard door.”

“Likely story.”

[heytheredelulu]

Anon request: “could you do something enemies/rivals where bucky accidentally finds out that you have a mirror kink during a training session?”

Yes, absofuckinglutely yes.

Watch Me

Rival!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count 2.4k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, fingering, size kink, mirror kink, choking, degradation (Bucky calls reader a slut once), hate sex (p-in-v unprotected), one lil spank, no aftercare and Bucky’s kind of an asshole.

“You’re distracted!” Bucky grunts, landing another painful blow to your gut, causing you to stumble backwards as he effectively knocks the wind out of you again.

“Just shut up, Barnes!” You snap back, resting your hands on your knees as you hunch over and work to catch your breath.

He wasn’t wrong, you were completely distracted. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the wall of mirrors behind him and it only made it that much easier for him to land hit after fucking hit.

You may absolutely loathed the man but it didn’t change the fact that the way his muscles flexed in his back and biceps in the reflection of the mirror behind him as he pummeled you with his fists sent your mind reeling with thoughts of how those toned muscles would feel under your hands, your lips, your tongue.

Why couldn’t this man wear a goddamned shir-

He strikes you hard in the chest despite you being bent over and at rest and you stagger back in shock, the force of it having you struggling to maintain your balance and remain upright. Your temporary disorientation allows him the opportunity to wrap his right arm around your neck and pull you into a sleeper hold.

“Wanna tell me why you keep lookin’ in that mirror?” He breathes against your ear, his tone assuring you that there’s a smirk creeping across his stupid fucking face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You pant through gritted teeth, jerking your shoulders against his arm, working to free yourself from his chokehold.

He shakes his head, a sardonic laugh rumbling up from his chest as his forearm tightens across your windpipe. “Tap out.” He orders. “You can’t fucking handle me, princess. You don’t belong in the field. You’re weak. It’s pathetic.” His voice is low and cruel as you continue to struggle. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, or worse- get one of us killed.”

Rage simmers in your belly at his comment but the shame you feel from the truth of it is evident in the crimson blush creeping across your face.

He was right again.

You were weak.

That’s exactly why Tony had scheduled you to spar with him. Had you not been explicitly instructed to have training sessions by Tony Stark himself, you wouldn’t be caught dead alone in a room Bucky fucking Barnes and his smug ass attitude. It was no secret that this man was the bane of your existence, taking every opportunity to pick a fight and belittle you in front of everyone regardless of the time, place or context.

Unfortunately when it came to hand to hand combat, he was the most skilled out of anyone else on the team. so it made sense to pair you with him for training despite how much you had protested the idea. As you spent the last hour getting taunted and insulted while simultaneously having your ass handed to you, you couldn’t help but feel like Tony was just putting you in a room with him for his own amusement.

The anger overtakes the shame and you grit your teeth, bringing your head forward before slamming it back into his face with all the strength you could muster, pain erupting across the crown of your head. Bucky releases you, stunned and furious, bringing his fingertips up to swipe away the trickle of blood that trailed from his nostril. He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his cerulean eyes narrowing.

“A fucking headbutt? Are you kidding me?” He shouts, advancing on you. “You’re supposed to grab onto your opponent’s arm, bend your knees, sidestep and roll me off your back! Have you paid attention to anything I’ve told you?” He asks, leaning over you with a menacing glare. “You could’ve given yourself a goddamn concussion, you idiot!”

You scoff, stepping up on your tiptoes in an attempt to to make yourself appear taller, more confident but you nearly shrink right back down when the scent of his cologne mingled with the musk of his sweat hits your nostrils.

Goddamnit, he smells like cedarwood and sin.

“I was paying attention! Do you really expect me to be able to roll your big ass over my back? That’s impossible!” You argue.

“Bullshit. You’re distracted. You’ve been distracted this entire time.” He growls, prodding a finger into your chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You threaten, moving to swat his hand away but he’s quicker and snatches your wrist.

“Don’t touch you?”

Bucky leans down further and you stiffen at his sudden closeness.

“I think you like when I touch you.” He taunts, tightening his metal hand around your wrist and spinning you away from him to face the line of mirrors across the wall.

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

“You want to, don’t you?” He asks in a low voice as he leans in behind you, trailing his flesh hand up your abdomen and closing it around your throat. You don’t reply, unable to form a coherent thought when his body dwarfs yours, towering over you from behind. He closes in, pressing his bare, sweat slicked chest against your upper back, drawing a sharp breath from your lungs when the length of his hard cock in his gym shorts settles against the curve of your ass.

“I think you forget.” He whispers, the light stubble across his jaw brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Super soldier. I’m enhanced. My senses are enhanced.”

His hand tightens around your throat, your pulse fluttering against his palm.

“I can hear your heartbeat, princess.” He taunts, his breathy chuckle fanning against your skin before he nips at your earlobe and goosebumps prickle across your skin.

“I can smell how badly your cunt is aching for me.”

Your eyes widen in response to his brazen statement and you make a move to step out of his hold but he splays his large hand across your stomach and tuts at you.

“Don’t try to deny it.” He whispers, his metal hand slowly working its way down your body. “You know, it’s funny. You say you hate me, but your body’s betraying you.” His cool fingers tease at the waistband of your leggings and your breath hitches, your eyes slipping shut.

“I bet if I were to just-“

Your hand catches his wrist before his fingers can trek any further and you shake your head. “No.” You mumble, opening your eyes and connecting your gaze with his in the mirror.

“Why?” He asks, brushing his lips against your neck. You tilt your chin up, granting him further access and he chuckles against your skin when you avoid answering his question.

“Because you don’t want to? Or because you hate me so much you don’t want me to be right?” He asks quietly.

You open your mouth to reply but the only sound that slips out is a moan when he proceeds to dip his fingers beneath your waist band, ghosting a finger across your slick folds.

“That’s what I thought.” He whispers, gathering your arousal on your fingers and tracing them along your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“Jesus, Princess. You’re so fucking wet.”

You groan, trying desperately to remind yourself just how much you loathe this man but every brush of his fingers against your clit pulls you further and further away from logic.

Fuck it.

You arch your back against him and hook your thumbs in your waistband, tugging your leggings and panties down and kicking them aside in a hurry. Your eyes are completely fixed on the mirror, staring at his hand cupping your cunt and you place your hand atop his, guiding his metal fingers towards your entrance.

“Oh, is that right?” He teases, his finger poised at your weeping hole but denying you of what you so desperately want.

“I had a hunch when you couldn’t take your eyes off my reflection earlier but now I know for sure.”

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You whisper harshly, grinding your backside against his erection.

“I know.”

He sinks a single metal finger into your wet heat and you gasp at the sensation, keeping your eyes locked on your reflection as he pumps into you, his breath growing heavy against your neck as he adds a second finger, letting out a low groan when he’s met with resistance.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He murmurs, grazing his teeth along the tender flesh of your neck.

“I'm gonna have to open you up, princess.”

You whimper, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder as he scissors his fingers inside your cunt, massaging your inner walls and working to add a third finger. A cry escapes your throat at the intrusion, your hand flying up and carding in his hair to steady yourself.

“I’m gonna bury my cock in this tight little cunt.” He purrs, rocking his fingers into you, his palm grinding against your clit and your impending orgasm causing your pussy to flutter around his fingers. He grips your jaw and roughly tilts your head back down to look in the mirror. “You're gonna watch me when I make you come.” He growls, fucking his fingers into you at a steady pace, your arousal creating an obscene squelch with every pump of his hand.

Your eyes trail up the reflection of your body as it writhes in pleasure under his touch and your eyes connect with his. Your mouth falls open, a broken cry falling from your lips as your walls clench around his fingers and you break under the gaze of his blue, lust-blown eyes. He hums, his grip on your jaw loosening and he turns your head, capturing your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss as he withdraws his fingers from inside you. “Take my cock out.” He murmurs against your lips, his low voice carrying demand while grasping your wrist and guiding your hand to palm the aching erection tented in his gym shorts.

You don’t hesitate to follow his instruction, reaching under his waistband and curling your hand around him, letting out whine when you realize you can’t close your hand completely around his girth.

“I told you.” He whispers, peppering kisses across your jaw. “I needed to open you up for me.”

You release a shuddered breath and he pushes down on the small of your back to urge you to lean forward, his metal fingers tracing along your shoulder and down your arm to settle atop your hand. He brings it to the mirror, interlocking your fingers with his and pressing it against the glass.

“I’m not gonna be gentle. You know that, right?” He asks in a low voice, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and choke back a moan as he releases your hand and widens his stance.

You watch as his eyes drop to your ass, his large palm resting flat against it to hold you steady while he grasps the base of his cock and presses himself against your entrance. You raise your other hand to the mirror, leaning forward with a bowed head and brace yourself against it as the sweet sting of him stretching you steals the air from your lungs.

“I don’t want you to be.” You breathe out, lifting your head weakly and connecting your gaze with his as he settles his hands on your waist.

No sooner than the words leave your mouth, he’s drawing his hips back, withdrawing almost completely before he slams back into you with bruising force. You let out a strangled cry, your eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you at a merciless pace.

A harsh slap to your ass directs your attention back up to his reflection where his hungry eyes are still fixated on you.

“I thought I told you to watch me when I make you come.” He grunts, pulling a sharp breath from you as he snaps his hips forward and kisses your cervix with the tip of his weeping cock. He slides his hand down across your pubic bone and slips it down between your folds to tease your throbbing clit. His fingers work quick, tight circles across your sensitive bud, igniting a fire low in your belly and spreading heat under your skin.

“You like that, huh?” He taunts, his voice low and husky as he fucks into you with unrelenting tempo. “You like to watch yourself when you’re getting fucked, don’t you? Kinky little slut.”

“Bucky, I-”

You lose your words in a choked sob, arching your back as your cunt spasms and contracts around his cock, your knees threatening to buckle under the wave of euphoria crashing over your body.

“That’s right Princess, come all over my cock.” He moans, his hips stuttering as he trails his fingers away from your swollen clit.

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist, chasing his orgasm in deep, brutal thrusts, his heavy sack slick with your release, slapping against your skin with every jerk of his hips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense.

He pulls out abruptly and you lock eyes in the mirror one last time, his brows knitting and his lips parting as he curses your name, frantically fucking his fist and painting your ass with thick ropes of cum.

You press your forehead against the cool glass before you as you work to catch your breath and it’s silent for several long, uncomfortable minutes before you hear the faint rustle of him tugging up his shorts.

You straighten up and turn around to see him moving towards you with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his t-shirt in his hand.

“Good session.” He says flatly, tossing his t-shirt at you and you catch it, your brows furrowing in confusion. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smug smirk and he gestures towards your sticky ass.

“I hate you.” You mutter, shame rising up your cheeks in a deep blush as you wipe yourself angrily with his t-shirt.

“I know.” He replies, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice while he turns to leave.

“Same time tomorrow!” He shouts over his shoulder, leaving you alone, ashamed and naked in the gym.

Goddamnit, you fucking hate him.

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @wintrsoldrluvr

A/N: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

💋Sj

[lovebugism]

I love your ones with shy x king steve could you write more with lots of angst lolll

ty for requesting !! — the trials and tribulations of dating hawkins' golden boy (shy!reader, secret relationship, hurt/comfort, king!steve universe | 1.6k)

Gravel crunches under your feet, digging into the bottoms of your shoes with every step. You storm through the empty alleyway between the gymnasium and the chemistry lab despite that. Despite the whipping wind that threatens to pull you back. Despite the calls of your name from an achingly familiar voice.

“Hey! Hey, wait up!” Steve shouts at the back of you, laughing like it’s funny. 

You hear his footsteps kicking up gravel as he rushes to catch up with you. It takes little effort on his part — legs long and mostly bare in his Hawkins Tigers basketball shorts. He towers over you accordingly, when he slides ahead of you to stop you suddenly in your tracks. 

“Hey. What’s going on?” the boy pants with a crooked smile. His cheeks, freshly shaven, are now flushed from a merciless practice. The shirt clinging just perfectly to his torso, too, is damp at the neckline with sweat. “Why are you avoiding me, huh?”

He’s met with an emotionless scowl from you, which is strange, ‘cause you’re usually all smiles around him. But you keep your arms crossed over tight your chest, adamant in revealing nothing to him. 

Steve’s smile wavers at the edges as he forces a breathy, unsure laugh. “Oh, you’re not— you’re not talking to me? Shit, I must have some serious groveling to do, don’t I?”

His wide hands settle warm on the outsides of your elbows, just before he ducks down to kiss you. You catch a smirk pulling at his pink mouth when the tip of his nose traces the bridge of yours — like it’s still so funny to him. 

He frowns when you flinch back from him, boyish features twisting like a puppy’s might. “You okay?” he wonders, suddenly solemn.

“No, Steve,” you snap. “I’m not.”

He stammers hopelessly. “Well, what�� What happened? Did I… Did I do something, or…?”

“No. You didn’t do anything,” you bite. “Because you never do anything.”

You try to walk past him, but Steve sidesteps to block you, his hands spread awkwardly before him in surrender. “Okay, well, now I’m confused,” he murmurs, face swirled with uncertainty. “‘Cause you’re saying I didn’t do anything, but… it kinda sounds like I did do something…”

His disregard sets you aflame from the inside. 

“Tommy made fun of me in front of all your friends. In front of you—” You dig your finger into the center of his chest. “—And what did you do? Nothing, Steve… Nothing.”

Your voice breaks. You clear your throat when emotion starts to strangle you. 

The memory of earlier that day pangs your chest like it just happened — like it’s still happening. And it’s not so much what Tommy said to you, but what Steve didn’t have the courage to say.

The boy sighs, swiping a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. “He’s a dick, babe. You know that. Don’t let him get to you—”

“That’s really easy for you to say, isn’t it?”

He flinches at your foreignly sharp tone. “Well, what was I supposed to do?”

Now, you can’t tell if he’s oblivious or just a coward. Neither is particularly attractive.

“Anything,” you spit. “Literally anything.”

“I just didn’t want them to find out about us, alright?” Steve argues, harsher now. “That was the agreement, wasn’t it? That we stay a secret—”

“‘Cause you’re ashamed of me,” you choke, eyes going glassy.

“‘Cause I didn’t want this shit to get any worse for you!”

“It can’t get any worse, Steve! I’m fucking— I’m fish bait!”

“What?!”

“Every day, I’m terrified of what your friends are gonna say to me,” you confess, despite the cracks in your voice and the tears blurring your vision. “I’m self-conscious, all the time, ‘cause they always have something to say. About my hair, my clothes, my makeup—”

Steve’s chest burns with a palpable ache. Every inch of your heartbreak is his own. His arms cross over his chest in a feeble attempt to quell the flame. “Really?”

You scoff a bitter laugh. “God, you’re so oblivious…”

“I didn’t know it was that bad, babe, I swear,” Steve says, voice suddenly fragile as he takes a step closer to you. His sneaker scuffs the gravel with hesitancy. “I thought Tommy was just being a prick, you know? He’s like that with everyone. I had no idea it was like that, okay?”

Your tight chest deflates with a sigh. “The point is, Steve… That Tommy shouldn’t be doing anything to be at all. You should be protecting me— Not even as my boyfriend, but as a decent fucking human being.”

“I’ll talk to him,” the boy says with a firm nod.

“Steve—”

“I will. I-I’ll sort it out, okay? I promise.”

Even though the look of hurt twisting his features makes your eyes sting, you smack your lips indifferently against your teeth. “No. Don’t worry about it. I’d hate for him to find out about us—”

“Babe—”

“Or, god forbid, you lose any shot of being prom king,” you laugh cynically. “Wouldn’t that be a bite?”

Steve huffs, though it’s hard with the leaden weight on his chest. “Okay. Now you’re just being mean.”

You know you are. You wanted to be — wanted to hurt him like he hurt you. But you’re questioning if he deserves it now, so you shrink into yourself all over again. “I have to go. Me and Robin are going to the library.” When you walk past him this time, he makes no effort to stop you. 

It hurts only slightly.

“Let me drive you,” he calls to you, anyway.

“So you can be seen with a bunch of dweebs at the library?” you scoff, not looking back at him. “I’d hate to see what that would do to your reputation.” 

“Please, don’t,” Steve sighs, with his hands on his hips and his head tossed back like he’s talking to the sky. “Don’t leave when you’re mad at me. Please.”

His words are carried to you on an early fall breeze, which stills suddenly when you spin around to face him. The sight of you takes his breath in a similar way — eyes teary, chin quivering, face twisted with the hurt he caused.

“Do you know how humiliating it is?” you ask him, voice trembling. “To watch your boyfriend stay silent when all of his friends are making fun of you?”

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s fucking humiliating.”

His jaw clenches. So hard his temples shift. “I thought I was helping,” Steve explains, gesturing wildly with his hands. “I thought if I said something, then everyone would find out, and you said you didn’t want that—”

“Because you’re King Steve,” you retort, agonizing the point he seems to be forgetting. Your voice breaks like splintered glass. “And I’m— I’m nothing—”

“That’s not true—”

“—And I thought the only way I’d get to be with you was if no one else knew. So you could keep being Hawkins Royalty while dating the… the local fucking prude.”

An emotionless laugh sputters from your lips. It cuts through Steve like a knife. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t know you felt that way,” the boy confesses, closing the short distance between you. The snapping gravel under his sneakers fills the silence. You duck your gaze when he towers over you again.

“Well… now you do,” you murmur.

“I’ll make it better, okay? I’ll fix it,” Steve assures. Unsure of what to do with his hands when they’re not holding you, he sticks the trembling limbs in the pockets of his short shorts. He shifts on his feet and kicks a rock with his sneaker. “You just… You just have to let me.”

He flashes you a look then, a pleading sort of glance from beneath his lashes, glimmering with a darkened honey. It makes your chest sparkle in a similar way. But still slightly hurt, you only shrug in response.

“Can I have a kiss, at least?”

You shrug again with eyes wide and pleading, shining now with a surer answer you hope he can hear in your silence. 

Steve leans in slowly, testing the waters. His gaze darts from your eyes, to your mouth, and to your eyes again. When you don’t flinch away by the time his nose grazes yours, he finally kisses you — a chaste peck that makes your tense shoulders slowly relax. You fight the urge to chase him when he pulls back from you. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Really,” Steve says in a pained murmur. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “‘Cause you mean— You mean a lot to me, you know?”

It’s the closest he’s ever gotten to telling you he loves you, which is saying something, ‘cause he thinks he almost tells you every day. 

“You mean a lot to me, too,” you mutter shyly in response.

Steve tries and fails to bite back a grin. He ducks down for another kiss –– the long and languid one he’s been dreaming about all day. The kind that tastes like strawberry chapstick and nicotine and yearning. The kind that pains you to pull away from.

Your kissed mouths smack apart in protest. You try hard to conceal a lovesick smile. “I really do have to meet Robin, though…” you confess in a mousy voice.

His rosy mouth falls softly agape. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, uh,” he clears his throat. “Call me later?”

You step back from him and shrug, still smiling. “We’ll see,” you lilt beneath the gravel crunching under your feet. Only when you’re at the edge of the alleyway do you glance at him over your shoulder. The puppy-like hurt on his face returns.

“You’re breakin’ my heart!” he calls to you, only partly serious.

“Just like seeing you grovel,” you joke. “That’s all.”

[yan-lorkai]

Fae/faerie Jade trying to get lost reader's name and her being like '🤨 uh, no, give me yours first, let's trade' without knowing that's basically like betrothing herself with him

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Lowkey I believed faes/fairies used to exist when I was kid lol. And I'm telling y'all this because I had a dream quite similar to this fic lololol, it was a good dream tho :>

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ tagging: @harukishiyo @kiraiyugen

"You're quite charming," he says, his voice soft and almost reverent, as if speaking an undeniable truth. "Precious, even. Why won't you tell me your name?"

You hesitate, narrowing your eyes at him. There's something about the way he asks, the smoothness of his tone, that feels too inviting, too... dangerous. For a second, you study him, his sudden appearance intriguing you.

You cross your arms, trying to appear more confident than you feel. "Uh, no. Mister, you should tell me your name first," you say, thinking you’ve cleverly sidestepped whatever game he’s playing. "Or... We could trade names."

For a moment, his eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face. But then his lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile, one that makes your stomach tighten in a way you can’t quite place. "Ah, a trade, is it?" he murmurs, the words rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement. "Very well, if that is what you wish... I shall oblige."

He leans in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a brief second, you feel as though the air around you has thickened, charged with something unspoken. When he speaks his name - Jade, like the gem, it’s with a deliberate, almost theatrical grace, each syllable drawn out as if he’s savoring the moment. His voice is like silk, and his name feels heavy, lingering in the air between you.

And the sound is almost magical, hypnotic even.

You don't realize it, but the moment you suggested a trade, you unknowingly set the trap he had been waiting for. To exchange names with a fae is to offer something more than just words; it’s an agreement, a binding promise. By giving yours, you would be tying yourself to him, just as he’s doing now.

And the look in his eyes — the way they gleam with that mix of amusement and something darker — tells you that he knows exactly what you've just offered, even if you don't.

When you finally open your mouth to respond, you don’t see the invisible chains that have begun to form around you, nor do you hear the silent vow he’s made to keep you by his side.

"Well," you begin, a bit nervously, trying to shake off the sudden intensity in his eyes. "I guess it’s only fair to share mine now." You tell him your name, and as the words leave your lips, you can't help but notice how his smile widens, sharp and satisfied, like a predator finally closing in on its prey.

“Ah, so that is your name, Yuu,” he repeats, almost reverently, as if tasting it, repeating it again and again as if he was getting used to it. “Beautiful… fitting, even.”

He takes a step closer, and you instinctively take a step back, but he follows, closing the distance again. “You have no idea what you’ve just given me, do you?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an underlying current, a subtle shift that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?” you ask, feeling a little defensive. “It’s just my name. We traded, remember?”

“Oh, but it’s not just a name,” he replies, tilting his head as if amused by your innocence. “To share a name with a fae is to forge a bond, one that can not easily be broken. You offered a piece of yourself, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I have given you a piece of me in return.”

You stare at him, the realization dawning on you slowly, like the creeping shadow of a storm. You had to have misunderstood what he just said.

“Wait… Are you saying…?” Your words falter as you search his eyes, looking for any sign that he’s joking, but there’s none. The grin on his face is too calm, too knowing, as if he’s been planning this all along.

“Yes, my dear,” he says, his voice soft and almost affectionate, yet there’s a possessiveness in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat. “We are bound now, betrothed, if you wish to call it that. You belong to me, just as I belong to you. Isn’t it delightful? Mom and dad will be glad to know you.”

Your heart starts pounding, a mix of disbelief and panic surging through you. “No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You stammer, shaking your head as if you can undo the words you’ve already spoken. “I didn’t agree to… to this! I can't get married right now.”

He doesn’t seem fazed by your protest. If anything, he looks even more delighted now. “Oh, but we're married now due to fae traditions. The moment you proposed the trade, you sealed your fate. And I have no intention of letting you go, my precious beloved one.”

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch cool but oddly soothing. “Do not fear, Yuu. I shall take care of you, cherish you… just as a good partner should.”

You try to pull away, but his hand cups your cheek, holding you gently in place. “There is no need to run, no need to fight. We are bound by something far stronger than mere words. You wished to know my name, and now… you will never forget it.”

The forest around you feels like it’s closing in, the air thick with something unseen, as if the world itself acknowledges the bond between you. And in his eyes, you see no hint of malice, only a patient, eternal watchfulness, as if he’s content to wait, to let you come to terms with what you’ve unknowingly become a part of.

“I’ll give you time to understand,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a soft, almost tender smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “But know this… I am yours, just as you are mine. And there is no escaping what has been forged tonight... Love.”

[loveinhawkins]

Steve grabs the bag before Eddie can. “No, I’ve got it.”

Eddie glances at the transparency of the plastic bag: the outline of his battle vest pokes through it, neatly folded.

He sidesteps the rest of the group as they troop out of the RV. Steve’s still standing his ground by the driver’s seat.

“Uh, Steve, I can see what’s in there. That’s mine.”

“Yeah, but—” Steve huffs, still holding the bag tightly, and he almost seems… embarrassed. “Like, just. Don’t look at it right now, I’ve got it. I’m gonna dry clean it. Later, I mean.”

Eddie laughs. But Steve remains deadly serious.

“Uh, that’s nice and all, but I don’t think dry cleaning gets out… um, blood and…” Eddie pokes his head out the RV door, to where the kids are hauling weapons and tanks of lighter fluid with Robin and Nancy—a sight he steadfastly tries to ignore before he panics ad nauseam—and asks, “What’s your word for, uh, Upside Down related, uh, you know—”

“Slime?” Lucas offers.

“Sludge,” Erica corrects.

“Goop,” Max says decisively.

“Shit,” Dustin says.

Eddie nods. “Helpful, thanks.”

He turns back. He’d intended for all that to get Steve to crack a smile at least, but if anything, he looks worse; the expression on his face has shifted into evident guilt.

“Steve,” Eddie says, caught between being amused and… honestly, touched. “Relax. It’s fine, man.”

Steve keeps frowning. “But it was—”

“—not important.”

Steve huffs again, like he’s saying don’t lie.

Eddie changes tack. He hasn’t missed the fact that Steve’s change of clothes from The War Zone means that, sure, less skin’s on show, which is probably better for Eddie’s heart but, more importantly, his bandages are ‘conveniently’ concealed—which is decidedly less good for Eddie’s heart, so maybe they both cancel each other out.

If ever there was the time for sincerity…

“Maybe I care less about the damn vest, and more about the person wearing it.”

The pinch in Steve’s brow lessens. “Oh,” he says, soft, and then a little of his usual bravado comes back when he asks, “you sure?”

Eddie waggles a hand back and forth. “Kinda. It’s borderline.”

Steve chuckles. He puts the bag down on his seat, very carefully, as if it’s breakable, and Eddie’s heart does a little skip.

“Well. I still feel bad,” Steve insists. His tone’s light, but he fixes Eddie with a pointed look, don’t test me on this, Munson, ‘cause my stubbornness will win.

“Okay,” Eddie concedes, hands up in surrender. “Tell you what, Steve. What if I wore something of yours, to make it even?”

Steve wrinkles his nose, but he’s smiling. “What, and deliberately mess it up?”

Eddie nods gravely. “Like, it’s not quite Upside Down conditions, but whenever I cook, it gets pretty close.”

Steve’s smile grows. He makes a show of turning around in search of something.

“Huh, I must’ve forgot to pack my wardrobe.”

Eddie clicks his tongue in theatrical disapproval. “Yeah, that’s a pretty big oversight, dude, should’ve thought it through.”

“Guess it’ll have to wait for next time.”

And yeah, they’re joking, but still. Eddie doesn’t want to tempt fate.

“Next time? Nah, I’m praying all this shit is a one time thing.”

“No, I meant—” Steve hesitates, like he’s inadvertently stepped out of the joke, and he doesn’t know where to go from here. “Like. Whenever you come round.”

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie says; he hopes the quip is enough to cover his surprise, the long-buried thought—ridiculously high school, but true in spite of it: no-one’s ever invited me to…

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, sorry, did you want it hand-written? The red carpet treatment?”

“Well, if you’re offering…”

“I’ll go get my quill,” Steve deadpans.

Eddie laughs. Says, only partly kidding, “It’s just, I’ll need some time to think it over.”

“The… invitation?”

“What item of clothing I’m taking, duh.”

“Right, yeah,” Steve scoffs, “major decision.”

“It is! You have whole ensembles, man.”

“Ensembles,” Steve echoes, but it’s got more of a French accent to it; Eddie suspects it’s a by-product of Steve helping Robin study, ‘cause she seems to be the only one who’s a polyglot in their contingent. “Get out of town, Munson.”

“Oh, like you don’t know. I swear, in winter, there’d be actual bets placed on what sweater you were gonna wear each day.”

“Uh-huh.”

Eddie hams it up, “Didn’t you wonder why so many girls were waiting to see you drive into school?”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve says, and he waves Eddie aside, about to jump out of the RV. “Lemme know when you’ve made your selection.”

Eddie knows he should leave it there. They’ve had their laughs, and it’s made to be forgotten about in the face of much more important things.

But that’s always been his problem, really. He can’t bite his tongue in time. He can’t help—

“The red one?”

Steve turns around, one foot off the step. “What?”

“The, uh…” Eddie clears his throat. It’s either say nothing or go all in. Fuck it, the shire’s burning. “I’ve decided what to—um. The red sweater?” Steve just keeps looking at him, so he adds, tentatively, “The one you’d wear near winter break?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know the one you mean.” He falters on the verge of speech, his lips twitching into a surprised little smile. He drawls, “You sure you weren’t placing those bets yourself, Munson?”, but it doesn’t sound mean, and his ears suddenly look a little pink, and maybe, maybe—

“No comment,” Eddie says, aiming for comically flat, but Steve’s smile is contagious.

“Okay, it’s a deal.” Steve steps outside—throws over his shoulder, “It’s yours,” oddly sincere; and Eddie wonders if they’ve really been talking about clothes at all.

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

Ignoring the chapter I need to be writing (guess who wrote a whole chapter and then realized I need to write a different scene first? This guy!) and also my newest run of Rebirth (i have to get such specific stats and I'm so bad at math 😭), so:

Tell me what your Sidesteps would be doing if they never became vigilantes? What would their dream jobs be?

What hobbies do they have? Do they have a type of art they excell at?

[milswrites]

At the end of the night

~ Azriel X Fem Illyrian!Reader

Based on this request

Summary: They say you never forget your first love. So how could Azriel move on when you were never far from his mind?

Warnings: Gross men, intoxication, injury, blood, talks of wing clipping, talks of Azriel’s past, smut 18+ mdni (p in v), angst, fluff, the whole shebang.

Word count: 8.7k

'Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much that he dies every night to let her breathe, and in return, she reflects his love.'

The hour was late.

Far too late for a young woman such as yourself to be walking through the shadowed streets of Windhaven unaccompanied. The waning moon lost amongst the clouds as you moved under the cover of darkness.

You had no true destination in mind. Rather, your aimless wandering was done on account of you trying to pass the hours until you were able to return home once more. The lurking dangers of Windhaven appeared much more appealing than whatever bacchic activities were currently taking place at your home.

Night becoming your only friend as you spent all your time within its company.

It was now common practice, keeping yourself occupied whilst your father drank himself to oblivion alongside his barbarous friends. Your home no longer habitable, as with each day that passed it began to resemble a dreary tavern more and more.

Yet the streets themselves were just as an unpleasant place to be.

Even in the darkest hours of the night, the camp was still teeming with life. From lousy drunkards to irreputable whores, it seemed as though everybody was searching for some relief tonight. All seeking an escape from what was the hellish day-to-day of Windhaven.

It was therefore no surprise that your presence didn’t go unnoticed as you worked your way through the miserable throng. The sight of a young woman such as yourself, alone and unaccompanied during the midnight hours, was enough to capture the unwanted attention of a nearby group of intoxicated Illyrians.

They moved quickly.

One moment laughing amongst themselves as they stumbled along the uneven paving, and the next, they had you surrounded. Eyes ravenous and smiles sinister, they approached like a predator closing in on its prey.

The male closest to you hungrily trailed his tongue across his lips, taking a sweeping glance of your tense form before speaking, “Not lost are you sweetheart?”

The putrid scent of his foul breath was enough to make your wings curl in distaste, nose twitching with disgust as you replied curtly, “No, I’m just looking for my friend that’s all.”

You attempted to sidestep the male in order to continue on you way. Having provided them the false knowledge that someone was waiting for you, you hoped that would be enough to keep the group of inebriated males at bay.

Yet luck was not on your side tonight.

The firm grip of a calloused hand shooting out to meet your arm as the male who first spoke held you in place. “A friend?” he scoffed, knowing smile growing across his face as he made a show of checking his surroundings, lips pouting with faux disappointment as his eyes turned back to you, “I don’t see any friends.”

“Hence the looking” you spat, tearing your arm from his tight grasp as your wild eyes fluttered about in search of an exit route between the ever-nearing group of males.

Dauntingly, the largest of the warriors took a slow step towards you, wicked features half-lost to the shadows as he approached.

“You don’t need to lie sweetheart” he simpered, attempting to bring his hand to rest on your shoulder as you stumbled away from his touch. Flaring your wings in an attempt to appear more intimidating. But your action meant nothing to the male who continued to advance, “We’ll keep you company darling. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we left a pretty girl like you all alone in a place like this?”

Words lost to the rising panic growing in your chest, your gaze continued to fly around in desperation. Begging stare lost upon the disinterested faces of the passer-byers who wanted no part in the troublesome scene brewing.

In one final act of hope, you raised your fists. Ready to make a stand as you ignored the shaking of your wings and trembling of your knees. Yet your courage was wasted, sadistic laughs spilling from their lips as the males continued to move in closer, unphased by your valiant act of bravery.

But then darkness approached.

Lanterns extinguishing as the shadows crawled in.

With the light gone, the menacing grins plastered on your tormentors faces dropped, bodies tense as the dark silhouette of foreboding wings slowly crept towards them. Braced to flee as the stranger began to speak with a deadly air of calm.

“She’s not alone, she’s with me.”

~~~

You’d never had a friend before.

Windhaven had always been a place of strained alliances and disgruntled kinship. It was the last location you’d expect to see anything beautiful bloom amongst the weeds.

And yet, ever since that fateful day when the shadowsinger had swooped in to rescue you before delivering you safely home, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that perhaps the two of you were meant to be more than amicable acquaintances.

Azriel must have shared that feeling. The male having come to find you the next day, and the day after that. Which is why it was no surprise that it didn’t take long for the two of you to become inseparable.

Those somber nights spent walking around the camp with only yourself for company were now far behind you. Rather, the young male sought you out at the end of each workday, whisking you away from your home before your father had even the chance to pick up a bottle.

It was during these nights, where the two of you would sit and talk for hours. Your conversation acting as an escape from the cruel reality of your lives. Each story told and laugh shared working to make the pair of you forget exactly what was waiting for you back at the camp.

Sometimes, the two of you didn’t even talk at all. Simply being within each other’s presence was soon enough for the two of you to be content. You never thought about your troubled father or uncertain future when you were with Azriel, you didn’t need to.

Not when being with him made you forget.

Therefore, it was no wonder that between your riveting conversations and lingering touches, you found yourself pondering exactly what your relationship with Azriel was.

That perhaps the feeling which had sparked inside of you upon your first meeting wasn’t just the need for friendship, but the desire for something greater.

And so for the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to dream.

~~~

Cassian’s frenzied appearance at your door was the last thing you had expected to see in the early hours of the morning. His chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath long enough to be able to get the words out.

“It’s. Az.”

He needn’t say another word, your feet already working to carry you away from your home as Cassian’s exhausted voice called out from behind, “The training rings, he’s at the training rings!”

You ran, feet aching and heart pounding, until you finally reached your destination. Feet dragging to a halt as your wide eyes witnessed the spine-chilling scene before you.

A bloodied Azriel, eye swollen and jaw bruised, was being torn from an equally mutilated male. Eyes savage and tongue bitter as he continued to shout unintelligible nonsense at the grounded Illyrian. Rhysand’s face turning red with the effort it was taking to restrain his hysterical friend.

“Az?” you uttered lowly, mouth parting in disbelief as you took in his manic state. Heart plunging as your eyes dropped to the weeping cuts on his blood-stained fists.

Ears pricking at your voice, Azriel’s head snapped towards you, body slacking in Rhysand’s hold as he noticed your arrival. Dark brows knitting together in shame as he shrank under your disappointed stare.

Mustering the strength to pull himself from Rhysand’s crushing grip, Azriel broke away from his friend. Casting one last lethal look towards the crumpled warrior at his feet before stalking away. Walking straight past you without so much as a glance in your direction.

“Males” you huffed with a shake of your head, struggling to tear your gaze from the macabre scene before you in order to chase after your friend.

It didn’t take you long to find him.

Azriel having predictably fled to the spot where you spent most of your time together. Retreating to the small clearing tucked deep within the forest surrounding Windhaven. No doubt needing a space far from prying eyes to clear his tempestuous thoughts.

You made to clear your throat as you approached, cautious not to startle an adrenaline-spiked Illyrian. Yet Azriel beat you to it.

“I’m not going to apologize” his gravelly voice cut through the silence of your surroundings, hazel eyes failing to meet your own as you closed the distance between you, “that bastard got what was coming to him.”

Lowering yourself to the leaf-littered ground in order to sit by his side, you took a deep breath before moving to rest your head against his tense shoulder. A soft sigh escaping from your lips before you spoke, “Are you alright? . . . Your hands -”

“Have seen worse” Azriel replied, lips twitching with the bare-bones of a smile in response to your concern, “I’m fine, truly.”

Yet his harrowed eyes told you otherwise.

Azriel’s gaze cold and absent as he stared at the forest floor.

“Why?” you simply asked, face a picture of confusion as you tried to make sense of what could have been said to elicit such a reaction from the shadowsinger.

“You wouldn’t understand” he said dismissively, shrugging as he started to pick at the laces of his boots in avoidance.

“Try me” you answered, hand moving to stop his anxious action, pulling his own into your lap to assess the damage that had been done. Hoping that if your eyes were occupied elsewhere, the male might find it easier to speak.

An hour may have passed, or perhaps only minutes, yet when Azriel finally spoke his voice commanded your attention, “He said I was unworthy of being an Illyrian.”

“That’s it?” you question, brows drawing together as you failed to understand how Azriel would let some simple little remark get under his skin in the way it had, “That’s all he said?”

Azriel released a shaky sigh, knuckles turning white underneath the caked blood as he elaborated. “I didn’t -” Azriel paused to allow a harsh exhale, “I didn’t grow up Illyrian.”

You were unable to stop the way in which your eyes left Azriel’s hand in order to flicker to his face in surprise. He had never spoken about his past before. You had always surmised that it wasn’t pretty, his scars had told you that much. But for the sake of his privacy you had never pressed him further.

Yet here he was, offering you a piece of his dark and twisted past.

“I spent most of my childhood in a cage. I couldn’t train, or fly. I didn't even have the luxury of space to spread my wings. And then . . .”

Your grip on Azriel's hand tightens as he struggled to find the words, your consoling touch giving him the strength he needed to continue, “And then my brothers thought it would be funny to test the true extent of an Illyrian’s healing gifts.”

The frigid nature of his fingers in your palm told you all you needed to know about that. Heart sinking and nausea growing as your gaze fell to the scarred contours of his hands, sickened that anyone would do that to a child – to their family.

“Then I was dumped here. Wings weak and hands frail," Azriel's frown of anger morphing into one of shame as he spoke, "and I felt . . . Useless. Eleven years old and I already knew that I was a lesser Illyrian than everybody else. All because I was never even given a chance at life.”

You wanted to speak, to comfort the male and tell him that he wasn’t the same little boy who had found himself stranded in Windhaven all those years ago, yet Azriel’s sharp inhale told you he wasn’t quite done.

“I could barely even hold a sword at training. It took years for my tendons to grow used to the strain. Even now I still have days where I struggle to even move them. . . But I worked too damn hard for anyone to tell me that I am any less of an Illyrian than they are.”

Azriel’s eyes were now swimming with tears, the male sniffling slightly as he finished what he had to say, “And when he told me that today . . . I was back to being that scared eleven-year-old boy with no friends. And I just felt worthless.”

"Never be ashamed of the things that make us” you reason, thumb moving to lightly caress the back of his scarred hand, "That's what determines a person's worth. Not their skill or ability. . . It's how hard a person fights to survive that tells you the most about them."

The shame washes from Azriel’s face, colour returning to his cheeks at your words. Soon your eyes were watering alongside his own as you gently brought your hand to meet the curve of his cheek, a soft smile gracing your lips as you spoke, “You’re not alone Az. Not anymore. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and I won’t allow you to think you’re any less than that.”

Azriel stills, the tension in his shoulders easing as his grateful eyes moved to meet your own, "How is it. . . that you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better?"

You blush at the intensity of his thankful stare, ears burning red as you attempted to casually shrug away the male’s question, "Call it intuition."

Seeking to shift the male's attention from yourself, you hopped to your feet. Dusting yourself off as you offered out your hand for Azriel to take, "Come on trouble, let's go get you fixed up. I don't really think red is your colour."

And as the two of you walked back to camp, Azriel’s face now sore and aching as the adrenaline ebbed away, he wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell you that it wasn't being an Illyrian he was called unworthy of, but your love.

~~~

Spring had finally arrived at Windhaven.

The harsh conditions of winter had subsided, and the once icy camp had now thawed enough to reveal the frozen ground beneath. The shoots of new life, which had managed to outlast the chill of the dark months, now sprang forth in order to grow.

And for the Illyrian recruits, the changing of the seasons could only mean one thing.

The Blood Rite would soon commence.

All of Azriel's time had been given over to preparing for the upcoming ceremony. Hour after hour being spent in the training ring, perfecting his form, and building his strength. Whatever fleeting time you were able to have together was spent planning strategies and developing his survival skills.

You didn't mind, any time spent with Azriel was time well spent. You could even say that it was nice, witnessing the male in his element. The determination which coursed through his eyes whenever he spoke of the Blood Rite was enough to bring a proud smile to your lips.

Yet as the start of the ceremony loomed ever closer, you found yourself worrying more and more about Azriel’s well-being.

It’s not that you didn’t trust Azriel’s skill, but rather the fact that you didn’t trust the other males who would no doubt take great pleasure in besting the notorious shadowsinger.

Their leering sneers told you enough; Azriel was going to have to watch his back if he was planning on making it to Ramiel in one piece.

You did the best you could to help him, acquiring special ointments to massage into his aching hands with the hope of soothing his muscles for when the time came that he'd need to use his sword. You'd even taken to slipping various forms of mild poison into the food of the other males, praying that the toxins would keep their strength at bay long enough for Azriel to succeed.

But no amount of preparation worked to ease your anxiety as the day finally arrived. Your brow creased with worry as you stood in the square where the novice-warriors were beginning to gather, patiently waiting for Azriel to arrive in order to bid him farewell.

His confident smile, one of which he had no doubt worn for you, did nothing to sate your rising panic as he approached. Not even the soothing warmth of his comforting embrace brought you any joy. Rather, the action managed to bring tears to your eyes as you looked up to your friend in hapless despair, "Aren't I the one who's supposed to be doing the comforting?"

"You being here is enough for that" Azriel said lowly, hazel eyes squeezed tightly closed as he did his best to commit the feel of your body in his arms to memory. Not letting you part from his crushing hold until the camp leader had shouted the call for them to make their leave.

"Be safe" you choked through your tears as Azriel pulled away. His faux smile long forgotten as his expression turned into one of worry. Whether it was worry for your well-being or his own safety in the coming week, you did not know.

Azriel placed a parting kiss onto your forehead, hand lightly brushing against yours before he reluctantly began to walk away. "Always" he answered, hazel eyes never straying from you as he made his exit.

"Goodbye!" you called out after him, attempting to stretch an encouraging smile across your lips for his sake, your hand waving wildly as Azriel lifted his own to do the same. But then all of a sudden he stopped, body stiffening as though he had been struck by lightning.

Face drawn blank as he stared back at you.

"Az, what? -"

It took five steps for him to close the distance between you. Five swift steps for you to take in his dark, feral eyes. Five steps to wonder exactly what he was doing before his lips fell onto yours.

You had imagined this, the feel of his lips against yours, his tender hands wrapped around your curves as Azriel pulled you in closer.

But no dream could ever compare to the real thing.

To the feel of Azriel's soft lips molding against your own like they were made for each other. The heated desperation of the kiss working to steal your breath and weaken your knees. Each passionate swipe of his tongue and the salacious tug of your lip between his teeth, working to tell you everything that had until this moment remained unspoken.

And yet it was over all too soon.

Azriel pulling away upon the final call from his superiors, a heated breath of relief escaping from his swollen lips as he pulled away from you for the last time.

Finally turning to face his future, Azriel uttered, "No goodbyes."

This time when Azriel walked away, you allowed yourself to truly smile, eyes full of love as you enthusiastically waved goodbye until he was well out of sight.

The tears that fell, now ones of happiness as you watched the male head towards what he had worked so hard for. Heart full as you knew you needn't to be worried any longer.

Not when you knew Azriel had something worth fighting for – someone worth fighting for.

You.

Yet that feeling didn't last for long, all thoughts pulled from the shadowsinger as a heavy hand fell onto your shoulder.

Alarmed eyes shooting to the perpetrator, widening further still as they fell onto the gaunt face of your father. Eyes hollow and lips downturned as he ominously warned, "It's time girl."

~~~

It was dark when Azriel returned.

Having emerged from the rite victorious, the fortunate victors now arrived back into Windhaven to celebrate. Grins stretched across their lips as they walked towards the blazing fire where the rest of their evening was to be spent in merry enjoyment.

Yet there was no smile on the shadowsinger's face, not as he craned his neck to look past the crowd of well-wishers. Shadows aiding in his hunt by swimming through the pools of surrounding people, searching for the one face their master so longed to see.

Hoping to see the familiar smile which had carried him through the trials.

He needn't search far.

The sound of hurried footsteps filling his ears before a body collided with his own. His arms instinctively wrapping around your waist in order to pull you in closer, nose settling into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your sweet scent for the first time in a week.

"Gods, I missed you" he cried hoarsely, pulling back from the hug so as to be able to see your face again. Beaming as he brought a hand to cup your cheek, failing to notice the way in which your smile didn't quite meet your eyes. Adrenaline still rampant in his veins from the rite, Azriel wasted no time in bringing his lips to meet your own.

Where your first kiss had been rushed and desperate, this was one was slower, softer. Azriel taking his time with sweeping his lips over yours, savoring the moment in which you began to kiss him back. His worn hands working to slowly explore the length of your body as your lips danced together.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you whispered against his lips; words being met with the pearlescent grin of the shadowsinger.

Providing you with no answer, Azriel grabbed onto your hand before eagerly tugging you in the direction of his home. Too lost within his lovestruck haze to notice your unbalanced stumbles as you breathlessly trailed behind him.

"Az, where are you going? I thought we were going to celebrate!" Cassian's voice yelled after his retreating figure. Rhysand grabbed onto his brother's arm as he tugged him in the direction of the fire, a knowing smirk upon his lips as he answered, "I think he is celebrating Cas."

You were a flurry of limbs and giggles as you entered Azriel's home. Lips finding each other's once more as the pair of you became lost to your primal urges. The overwhelming need to be close to one another after only a week apart was almost too much to bear.

Sighs of intoxicated pleasure slipped from your mouth as Azriel began to trail his burning lips along the expanse of your neck. The male smirking as he slowly grazed his sharp teeth across your sensitive skin.

Needing more, Azriel moved to press your back against the wall in order to close the distance between you. Leaning in to seal your lips together once more until he was stopped by the painful cry which rang from your mouth.

It took seconds for the lust in the shadowsinger's dark eyes to fade.

Azriel's once sultry gaze growing panicked as his face contorted into a picture of horror. The amber glow of the faelight finally permissing him to see what the darkness of the night had hidden.

"Your wings!"

A shaky breath fell from Azriel's lips, hazel eyes swimming with tears as they raked over the scarred membrane of your clipped wings. Teeth bared as a low growl rumbled in his chest, "I'm going to kill him."

Fists trembling with rage, Azriel made to leave. Exhaustion after his trialing week long forgotten as the desire for revenge took an inescapable hold of him.

Yet your hands chased after him, holding onto Azriel's wrists in desperation as you looked up the male with begging eyes, "Stay. Please."

Shaking with the effort it was taking to stay put, Azriel sighed as he glances back to your wings. Jaw clenching as he cursed, "I should never have left."

Heart twinging at his self-placed blame, you pulled your lips into a sad smile, hand coming to rest against his quivering cheek, "You had to go Az, and I'm so proud of you for doing so."

A cry of protest slipped from his mouth, Azriel's eyes squeezing shut as he pressed his cheek further into your comforting hand. Voice breaking as he spoke, "They wouldn't have touched you if I was here."

"It was bound to happen eventually" you truthfully stated, "At least I was fortunate enough to keep mine, others aren't so lucky."

Azriel inhaled sharply, pulling you into a soft hug, careful not to disturb your fragile wings, "That doesn't make this any less right."

"No" you agreed, nuzzling deeper into Azriel's chest. His familiar scent a welcoming reminder that you were safe. No one could hurt you again, not whilst you were in Azriel’s arms. Content to stay in his embrace forever, you spoke, "But I have you, and that's all I need for now."

"I'll get you out of here" Azriel promised, loosening his hold on you just enough to allow his serious eyes to meet your own, "I don't know when. Or where we'll go. But I'll get you out. We’ll never have to see this damn camp again.”

"Together?" you asked, needing reassurance that you wouldn't have to face your uncertain future alone.

"Together" Azriel smiled.

~~~

"Stop peeking!" Azriel chided, unable to stop the smile of contentment which spread across his lips as you giggled at the sensation of his warm breath tickling the skin of your neck.

"I'm not!" you promised, chuckling as Azriel's palm moved to better cover your lightly closed eyes.

The shadowsinger hummed in disagreement, his free hand coming to curl around your stomach. Pulling you closer into his chest as he led you deeper into the forest.

"You're going to make me fall" you warned with a laugh, stumbling as Azriel's legs bumped against your own. The male's arms moving to hold you tighter still, soft lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "So long as you're in my arms, I will never let you fall."

Thankful that Azriel couldn't see your rising blush, you allowed him to walk you towards whatever surprise he had planned. Satisfied the shadowsinger would keep you safe, you tightly squeezed your eyes shut.

Putting your trust into the males loving hands.

You needn't walk much further, Azriel gently pulling you to a stop as the warmth of the evening breeze began to kiss your cheeks. The heat of the setting sun working to banish the chill that had settled in your bones as you moved through the shadowed forest.

"Ok angel," Azriel purred, the hand covering your face moving to your shoulder as he placed a swift kiss upon your temple, "take a look."

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting as the amber glow of the evening flooded into your vision. Heart pleasantly aching at the view that greeted you once your gaze came into focus.

"It's beautiful Az" you softly gasped, mouth parting in awe as you took in the picturesque scene before you. The slowly setting sun, inching ever closer towards the horizon. The ghostly silhouette of the towering mountains in the distance. The woolen blanket, carefully laid across the ground before you.

"It is" Azriel answered, tender eyes never leaving your delicate features.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze from the breathtaking view, you turned back to Azriel with a crease between your brows, "But why? . . . I've not forgotten something important have I?"

"No, not at all. I just wanted to do something nice for you" Azriel reassured. His hands moving to gently cup your cheeks in order to pull your loving eyes to meet his own. But you didn't fail to miss the rising pool of sadness which swam amongst his affectionate gaze.

"What is it?" you asked, your once peaceful expression now morphing into one of worry, "What's wrong?"

A low sigh fell from the male's lips, Azriel's forehead gingerly coming to rest against yours, "I've been given my orders, the High Lord asked for me himself. . . I am to leave tomorrow."

Your heart sank, mouth growing dry upon the realization that this would be your last night together for a while. But this was what Azriel had always dreamed of, having a purpose. Having worth. And so you would not allow yourself to be selfish and ruin that dream.

"T-that's great Az" you exclaimed, forcing a proud smile onto your lips, "You've worked so hard for this."

"But you-" Azriel contested, ever the selfless Illyrian.

"Will still be here when you return" you reassured him, moving to place a sweet kiss onto his forehead.

Azriel's eyes softly closed at your gesture, a shaky breath drawing from his lips before he quietly spoke, your heart aching at his solemn words, "I just wish we had more time."

"We have time now" you soothed, blinking away your tears before taking Azriel's hand into your own, gently pulling him towards the waiting blanket, "Let this night be our forever."

There, wrapped in Azriel's embrace, the two of you sat and talked as though you had all the time in the world. Because there, sat within the comfort of his arms, the fading amber of the setting sun before you, it felt as though you did.

"Azriel?" you quietly ask once the conversation had dwindled into a peaceful silence.

"Hmm?" he replied, hazel eyes sweeping over your face in question. His hand moving to lovingly tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"Kiss me."

Wordlessly, Azriel brought his thumb to slowly brush across your lip. Hooded gaze growing dark as a radiant smile crossed his face. Leaning in to huskily whisper in your ear, "How lucky I am, to have been blessed by an angel as beautiful as you."

And then his lips crashed to yours.

It was a heated battle of tongues and teeth. Azriel biting back a groan at the softness of your lips as they worked against his own. Your intoxicating scent delectably filling his senses until Azriel's thoughts were consumed only by you.

Moving to sit in his lap, you desperately pulled at the top of his leathers. Azriel aiding you in removing the item before your warm hands instantly moved to explore the vast expanse of his muscular chest. Mouth coming back to meet his own as you playfully nipped at the shadowsinger's lips, eliciting a soft whimper from the male who found himself entirely at your mercy.

Skirt bunching at your hips, you broke the kiss to slip your dress from your body. Nipples pebbling as the cool evening air hit your breasts. Azriel's hands froze, hovering over the curves of your waist, lustful gaze turning hesitant as his touch shied from your unblemished skin.

Seeking to quell his hesitance, you brought your hands to meet his own, lightly kissing the scarred flesh before whispering a soft truth, "You're perfect, Az." Hips moving to grind against his hardening member as you reiterated, "Every last inch of you is perfect."

Slowly, you raised Azriel's tense hands to rest against your breasts, the supple skin working to ease his trembling until the dark cloud of desire pooled in his eyes once more. His once stiff fingers relaxing as they began to work your breasts, the male smiling softly as cries of pleasure began to spill from your lips.

Unable to help the way your hips were bucking in desperation, you moved to unlace Azriel's pants as his swollen lips came to gently suck the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue working to trail over each of the purple marks left behind. A low groan escaping from his mouth as you pulled his aching cock from his leathers, twitching as you moved to wrap your hand around his length.

Azriel's hands flew to your waist as he made to flip you over. However, unwilling to hand over your control so easily, your firm hands moved to keep him beneath you. The smoky tendrils of his shadows creeping in to hold their master in place.

Eyebrows knitting together in protest, Azriel made to argue. Yet your teasing words beat him to it, "Poor Illyrian baby." Hand coming to rest on the center of his chest, you languidly rolled your hips against his leaking cock, "Relax, Azriel. Let me take care of you."

Moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, Azriel settled with placing his hands on your hips. The shadowsinger lifting you up in order to allow the head of his cock to slip between your soaking folds.

Inhaling deeply, you lower yourself onto him. Your soft whimper meeting Azriel's guttural cry as you sunk until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Allowing you the time to adjust, Azriel placed sweet kisses along your collarbones. Whispers of how perfect your heat felt wrapped around his cock tumbled from his lips, distracting you from the twinge of pain which had risen from the unfamiliar stretch.

Only when the ache had subsided, and your desire for more had become all too overwhelming, did you then move your hands to Azriel's shoulders. Clutching onto the shadowsinger for support as you began to move. Slowly raising your hips before sinking back down onto his cock once more.

It didn't take the two of you long to find a pleasurable rhythm.

Azriel's bruising grip on your waist working to pull your body down in time to meet his forceful thrusts. Incoherent mumblings of pleasure slipping from your lips as Azriel fucked you with a brutal pace.

It was only when you were nearing your high, and you wanted Azriel to ride the wave of pleasure alongside you, did you stretch your hand out to rake a teasing finger along the sensitive membrane of his wing. Azriel's cock pulsating inside of you as the male stilled, a strangled shout falling from his mouth at your action.

Pleased with the male's reaction, you repeated the motion, nail brushing against his twitching wings once more. A low growl rumbled in Azriel's chest, eyes blown black as he moved to flip the two of you over. Your own wings stretching out in order to allow you to comfortably lie on your back.

Azriel's cock never leaving your heat for a moment as he continued his unforgiving pace. Stars blurring your vision as his relentless pounding pulled you nearer and nearer to completion.

And then the wave crashed over you, vision turning white as a scream of pleasure tore from your lips. Azriel continuing his merciless thrusts as he chased after his own high, hands falling to your hips to try and steady your spasming body.

It wasn’t long after that Azriel followed suit, thrusts faltering as he came with a hoarse groan. The male exhaling a soft sigh of satisfaction as he withdrew himself from your core, arms caging your body as he rolled over in order to pull you on top of his chest.

Panting, Azriel raised a hand to brush the stray wisps of hair from your face. Eyes blowing wide with realization as he found himself unable to stop the words which fell from his lips next, "I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat, teary gaze looking to Azriel as your lips parted wordlessly. You had waited years for this, to hear the words you thought you would never be fortunate enough to hear. And now the moment had come you found yourself utterly incapable of expressing the undying devotion you felt for the male in front of you.

"I love you" Azriel repeated, unphased by your lack of an immediate answer, "I always have, from that very first day. All it took was one look and I knew you were it for me."

Tears welling in his hazel eyes, Azriel takes in a shaky breath before he continues, "I love you like the sun loves the moon. So much so that I would die every night, so only to let you breathe."

A sob escaped from your lips, your hand moving to rest against Azriel's cheek in order to allow your thumb to gently catch each falling tear. "Shadows" you corrected with a small smile, Azriel's expression morphing into one of confusion, "I love you like the sun loves the shadows. That I would give up my light, so only to see you dance."

Softly, you brought your lips to his. And even with the smallest of kisses, you were able to show the eternal nature of your love.

"I don't want to go" Azriel weakly cried, his words bringing you back to the unfair reality you had been dealt.

It was your turn to lovingly brush his dark hair back, matching tears falling down your own cheeks as you answered, "It's not forever. We'll see each other again."

"I'll come say goodbye tomorrow morning" he promised, sorrowful voice cracking as he spoke.

"No goodbyes, Az" you said with a bittersweet smile, moving to rest your head against his chest in order to savor your remaining time together.

As you watched the night crawl in, and the warm hues of the day had long since melted into the inky darkness; you wondered if the sun yearns for the comfort of night. In the same way you yearned for the comfort of his shadows.

~~~

Azriel's absence took a toll on you.

Your joy-filled days once spent in his company were now long forgotten as the mundane reality of life without the shadowsinger had finally come to pass.

It was as though Azriel had taken all the warmth with him when he left. The absent presence of his comforting embrace allowing the bitter chill of Windhaven to permanently settle into the marrow of your bones.

The arrival of each new month a cruel reminder that you had been left behind. Spite festering within your heart upon realization that your fate, alongside that of every other female's here, was forever bound to the camp.

Yet the dark clouds brewing overhead signaled a change in the wind.

War was coming to Prythian.

Whispers of skirmishes arising between the faeries and the mortals travelled like wildfire throughout the camp. All eyes warily looking up to the approaching storm which was steadily growing above the shadowed mountains of Illyria.

It was the males who left first, called to action by their High Lord.

You watched them leave through your frosted window, wondering if Azriel would be waiting for them at their final destination. Pondering what life would have in store for them now that they were free from the burdensome shackles of the prisonous camp. Ultimately knowing that they would fare no better in the future that awaited them at the frontlines.

The next sign that the war had finally arrived was the diminishing supplies. Even miles away from the nearest frontier, the conflict didn't leave Windhaven untouched.

Wartime Illyria was not a place for luxuries. Materials were growing scarce and food even more so, all your valuable recourses having been sent to the warriors in the mortal lands. Your father growing increasingly insufferable as his forced sobriety from the rationed drinks plagued him like an unquenchable thirst.

And then a stranger arrived at your camp.

A male from Dawn, skilled in the art of medicine, seeking aid in healing the countless victims left wounded from the violet acts of war.

Unsurprisingly, the hostile inhabitants of Windhaven all turned their noses up at his cry for help, unwilling to risk their lives on the battlefield for the sake of another's. Yet to you, the call for aid was a blessing. An invitation for you to do the one thing you've always wanted to.

Leave.

So for once in your life you allowed yourself to be selfish.

You didn't think about whether Azriel would return for you - far too many years had passed for you to still think that was a possibility. You didn't even think about your hopeless father, who without your help would surely succumb to his toxic lifestyle.

You only thought about the little girl who used to dream of seeing the world. Bright-eyed and unbroken as she spent her days wishing for someone to come and save her from the iron cage she called her home.

But no one was coming for you, you understood that now.

And so, longing to make a name for yourself in a kinder world, you answered the call.

Walking away from Windhaven without so much as a glance at the life you were leaving behind.

~~~

Azriel was dreaming again.

Dreaming of you.

Of moonlit encounters and sun-kissed embraces.

Glowing smiles and heated kisses.

And at the center of it all, you.

Yet when he wakes the sheets are cold and bare.

But the ghost of you never strays far from Azriel's mind.

~~~

His mornings always started the same.

Azriel rudely torn from his sweetened dreams by the coming of a new day. Chest unnaturally empty as he gathered the will to crawl out from the security of his sheets.

A stranger in his own home, he drifts downstairs.

Spending breakfast alongside the beaming faces of his brothers and their equally contented mates. The shadowsinger a silent observer of their animated conversations, only ever sparing a grunt of acknowledgement whenever the discussion turned his way.

Their gleeful smiles a glaring reminder to Azriel that he still hadn't found the missing piece of his soul. Tender heart aching as he longed to find the same overwhelming sense of happiness that his family shared around him. Unaware of his brother's concerned stares as they watched him slowly turn into a shell of the male he used to be.

Their worry growing, as with each passing day Azriel became more and more like one of his shadows.

Silent and unyielding.

Yet Azriel found himself helpless when it came to fighting the crushing feeling that he was to forever remain alone. Unable to sit there and watch his friends fall in love without wondering why the cauldron hadn't dealt him the same blessed fate.

Your haunting presence never failing to return to the forefront of his mind as Azriel feared that his first love was also bound to be his last.

~~~

Wallowing seemed to be Azriel's new favourite past time.

Even in the company of his friends and family, the shadowsinger failed to ever truly let the lines of his smile meet his eyes. Mind numb and heart aching, Azriel's increasingly glum attitude did not make for the most pleasant of companies.

Yet, unable to sit around as her friend slowly became half the male he used to be, Feyre decided that she wouldn't allow the Illyrian to pull away without putting up a fight. Adamant that the Azriel she used to know was simply hidden away, the Lady of Night wondered if perhaps the soothing touch of a woman was all that the male needed in order for his depressive episode to lift.

And so, having ignored Rhysand's warnings that trying to force love onto the shadowsinger would be a bad idea, Feyre began her master plan.

She started small.

Testing the waters by suggesting to Azriel that it would be nice for him to step into Velaris's dating scene. Casually mentioning that a friend of hers was looking for a partner and she thought the pair of them would be well-matched.

Much to her dismay, her efforts were met with no result, Azriel's gruff reply being a crude remark that if her friend were so desperate for a partner then she may have better luck searching in a brothel.

However, not one to give up so easily, Feyre persisted.

Each passing day bringing about new opportunities for her to share the news of a potential love interest that she believes the male should indulge in.

In the beginning, Azriel found amusement in Feyre periodically showing up at his door. He'd even feign interest as the female listed off the attributes of yet another young maiden she claimed would be perfect for him. Smiling along encouragingly as she spoke before ultimately shutting his door in her face.

But what the male hadn't predicted, was just how far Feyre would go in order to secure the happiness of her friend.

Determined that Azriel would find love so only he tried, the High Lady had neglected to tell the shadowsinger about his evening plans until the hour of his date was already upon him.

Feyre merrily bouncing on her heels as she broke the news to the male, excitable grin plastered across her lips as she waited in bated anticipation for Azriel's appreciative reaction.

But it never came.

Instead, Azriel's face turned deathly pale as his eyes briefly flickered over to the young woman standing besides Feyre, a shy smile gracing her face as she waited for the shadowsinger to greet her.

"What is this?" Azriel asked roughly. Taking the time to swallow the rising storm of anger which had settled on his tongue, the male well aware that Feyre's friend was just an innocent victim in the Lady of Night's game.

"This is your date, Az" Feyre said encouragingly, "It's time to put yourself out there."

The thundering whispers of his shadows were impossible to ignore.

Not her, they cried into his ears. Not her.

Azriel willed himself a stretched smile, chest tight and breathing difficult as he turned to Feyre's friend, "I apologize miss, my High Lady has chosen to lead you here under false pretenses, I'm not looking for a partner. Please allow me to walk you home."

Feyre's face fell in dejection, lips parted in surprise as her bewildered gaze fell upon Azriel's unrevealing expression, "But . . . I thought-"

"You thought wrong," Azriel interjected, hurt shining through his furious stare, "We'll discuss you and your thoughts once I've taken your friend home."

Feyre was still there upon Azriel's return, her face a picture of fury as the male walked through the door, "What was that?"

"What was that?" Azriel scoffed, his booming voice echoing against the hollow walls of the house's entryway, "What the fuck were you thinking Feyre?"

The female shrunk under Azriel's burning gaze, ears turning red with embarrassment as she quietly answered, "I was just trying to help. . . I thought you wanted to find love."

"I had love!" Azriel shouted in response. His outburst enough to have gathered Rhysand's attention as the High Lord winnowed into the room, rushing towards his teary mate's side.

"I had love" Azriel repeated lowly, voice cracking as he spoke, "And look how well that turned out for me."

"That's not Feyre's fault Az" Rhysand answered in defense of his mate, tone calm and steady as he worked to ebb away his brother's rising anger, "She didn't know."

"No, she didn't" Azriel replied solemnly, accusatory stare turning to the High Lord, "But you did and yet you still let her do it. . . But it's fine! Let's all play with Azriel's heart because we need some entertainment."

Rhysand's mouth dropped open, failing to find an answer that his brother deserves to hear. A cold laugh of disbelief fell from Azriel's lips, the male shaking his head as he began to walk away, "You know why I can't move on Rhys. Why I never will."

It was in that moment, whilst Rhysand watched Azriel's retreating figure, did the male then realize what all this was about. That it wasn't love that Azriel had been searching for all these years; it was you.

~~~

He came at night.

The firelight cowering in his presence.

Its amber flames licking at the darkness which had arrived alongside him. Those familiar violet eyes twinkling through the shadows as your High Lord slowly stepped into the light.

"My, my" Rhysand crooned, lips pulling into a cheshire smile, "You are a difficult woman to find."

"Rhys?" you ask in disbelief, resisting the urge to pinch yourself. Afraid of waking up from whatever strange dream your mind had conjured, "What are you doing here?"

"What I should have done centuries ago. . ." Rhysand answered, his charming smile failing to hide the worry which danced in his telling eyes, "I'm taking you home."

~~~

Azriel had grown up listening to the tales of men who claimed to have seen the Mother.

Their stories full of mighty wonder as they spoke of a being so perfect that her beauty alone was enough to drive even the strongest of males to the brink of insanity.

He had never believed them of course. Having laughed at their foggy eyes and lovesick expressions, believing their drunken words to have been no more than what they were. Fairytales.

But there you were.

Smile just as warm as he remembered, features just as soft.

Standing there in ethereal beauty as you waited for the shadowsinger to approach. Yet all Azriel could do was stare, wordless mouth parted in shock as the realization dawned on him that this was the closest he would ever get to seeing the Mother herself.

Azriel's hand flew to his chest. Never having imagined that after all this time your beauty would still have the power to disarm him just as it had done the day you first met. Unable to stop the cry of joy which fell from his lips as his dormant heart sparked to life. Eyes closing in relief as he felt the familiar comfort of its rhythmic pounding once more.

His love reborn as your two souls reunited once more.

"Hi Az" you beam, hand coming to rest against his tear-stained cheek, your voice coaxing the trembling male to open his hazel eyes, "I've missed you."

Stunned speechless, all Azriel could do was cry.

Weeping as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, the two of you sinking to the floor as he fell into the comfort of your loving embrace. The recognizable scent of your sweet aroma finally spurring his words into existence, "I came back for you."

You inhaled sharply at his words, pulling away from the hug in order to meet his sincere gaze. "After the war" he explained, stumbling over his words in an attempt to get them out, "I wanted to bring you to Velaris. . . But you weren't there. They told me that you were gone, that you were never coming back."

Hushing the male you moved his head to rest against your chest, running your fingers through his dark hair in attempt to calm him. Your own tears running down your face at the realization that Azriel had come back for you.

That he hadn't forgotten you.

"I'm here now" you promised softly, gently placing a kiss atop of the shadowsinger's head, "And I'm not going anywhere-"

You barely managed to get the words out before Azriel's lips crashed onto yours. Whimpering at the familiar sensation of his soft lips against your own. Five hundred years, that's how long you had yearned for this. For his mouth, his touch, his warmth.

Azriel pulled away, lifting his hands to your face in order to wipe away the stay tears which remained. "I love you" he blurted, hazel eyes sparking with life as he said the words, "cauldron I love you."

An overjoyed laugh tumbled from your lips, your tender smile wide as you listened to what Azriel had to say.

"No more waiting" Azriel begged, "I've already wasted five hundred years that should have been spent by your side. But not anymore. . . I'll spend the next five hundred years telling you just how much I love you. . . So long as you still want me that is, if there isn't anyone else."

"Want you?" you asked in surprise, "I'm already yours Az, I always have been. So just as they were the first, let your lips be the last to ever kiss mine. Because you're it for me Az, there is no one else."

You didn't need to ask again, Azriel bringing his lips to meet yours once more. Taking his time to pour all of his love into the action before pulling away to whisper a promise against your parted lips, "I'll never leave you again, not as long as I live."

"I won't let you" you answer, pulling the male into another crushing hug, "I'm never letting go of you again."

It was there, wrapped within your embrace on the floor of his home, that Azriel finally allowed himself to believe that everything was going be ok. Because how could it not be when his happiness had finally returned. The shadowsinger safe with the knowledge that at the end of the night, the sun will rise.

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: As a mentor, you do your best to help your tributes. When one of them turns into a victor, she knows just how to embarrass you in front of people you’d like to impress.

part two | part three

You whisk through the backstage hallways of the filming center, wet hair whipping as you turn corners. You’re on a mission. Apparently your tribute, now victor, is having a total breakdown.

Your fellow mentor told you he could absolutely handle her post-games interview. Clearly not, though, since your phone wouldn’t stop ringing while you sat at the bottom of your shower. When you finally pulled yourself out of your stupor to answer it, the district ten escort was on the phone begging you to get down here and fix her. You thought she was exaggerating until your stylist came on and told you it was bad. At that point, you threw on the closest clothes you could find and flew out of the apartment.

Darla is a sweet girl, and you’ve grown quite fond of her. You busted your ass getting her sponsors. Every year you try your best, but you thought she had a good chance and she proved you right. Seeing her in the hospital bed, though, you knew she was different. You thought something like this might happen, but you didn’t think it would happen during your shower.

Rushing around another corner, you crash right into another body.

“Sorry!” You try to quickly remove your hands from where you’d steadied yourself, and sidestep this new obstacle.

“What’s the rush?” The obstacle won’t quite let go of you, though. Now interrupted from your task, you look up to recognize the person in your way. Finnick Odair. It couldn’t have been anyone else?

“Emergency,” you quickly dismiss, trying to get by him again. If you look into his eyes you will be thoroughly distracted. You generally try to avoid Finnick at all costs. His intense stare makes you rather nervous.

“Everything ok?” He raises a brow.

“It will be when I get through here,” you start to get antsy. You tend to accidentally default to short and rude with him.

He lets out a scoff of a chuckle, “you’re a tough egg to crack, you know that?”

You’re really not. The Capitol knows you as the gentle victor, who often visits classrooms and reads to children. You guest star on daytime Capitol tv, making some of your favorite recipes in your houses’s enormous kitchen. You’ve designed gardens and parks and are generally well liked here for your friendliness.

“Look,” you huff, “Darla’s in trouble.” This, at least, you know he’ll understand. “Let me through so I can help her.”

“That’s why everything’s been delayed?” He asks. He’s right, too. The time it’s taken you to get dressed, get a car, and get here is all time that Darla should’ve been on air.

“Finnick,” you snap.

He steps aside in an instant, “good luck.”

You breeze past him.

“Mother hen is a good look on you,” you hear from behind you.

“Shut up,” you bark over your shoulder.

Back on track, you quickly find the right door. Whipping it open and rushing in, the entire district ten beauty team turns to look at you. Their eyes are wide and they look quite upset.

“She’s been staring at the wall since before we called you,” the hairstylist whispers, quickly rushing up to you and taking your hand. You instantly tug it away, they are not your priority.

You breeze past them and slowly approach where Darla is sat. She faces away from you, and is curled up in a ball staring at the wall. Quietly, you sit parallel to her and enjoy a similar view of the wall.

“Hey, D,” you say quietly. Taking a slow approach will probably be more effective than trying to force her up. You’re certain the beauty team tried that approach, but quickly got scared.

She’s silent for a bit, “I can’t do this.” Her voice comes as a relief to you.

You hate what you’re about to tell her. You’d really rather whisk her away back to the apartments, but there’s not exactly another option here. “Look at me, honey, yes you can.”

“No, I-“

“Darla, you can.” You try to be firm, but it falls short.

“You don’t under-“

“Now I know you weren’t gonna say I don’t understand. Baby, I might just be the only one who does.”

Darla starts to cry, and suddenly she looks her age. In this moment she’s not a victor. She’s just a sixteen year old who’s been through far more than she should. You move from your spot to embrace her.

“I know, honey. I’ve been here. Sometimes I’m still here. I know. But they don’t- and they can’t.” You say as you hold her close to your heart.

“So what do I do?” You pull away to see her teary face. You rise to your feet and slowly pull her with you.

“We’re gonna clean you up, and send you out there good as new,” you say, trying to imbue some confidence in her.

Darla’s eyes widen in fear.

“Relax, honey, we’ve got time,” you wipe her teary cheeks. You wave the makeup artist over, as you sit Darla in a chair. “Now in the meantime,” you start, pouring a glass of water and forcing it into Darla’s hand, “I’m gonna tell you a story. How’s that sound?”

Darla nods reluctantly, taking in ice water through the straw. You sit on the glass coffee table in front of the girl as the makeup artist gets to work.

“Now this happened a looooong time ago- back when I was ten. It was a bright summer’s day on the ranch, and I was up nice and early when my Paw came up and told me he’d lost his wedding ring. Now, my Nana was an insightful gal- if she had noticed (and believe me she would’ve) she’d have pitched a fit.

So I was enlisted to help him find it. Well, we searched everywhere. All around the house, the garage- no luck. Finally, we headed out to the pasture. We were digging through manure, when suddenly my foot sank into a pothole and I went flying toward the ground. I landed face first in an enormous pile of shit. But that’s not the worst of it- ohhh no.

When I pushed myself off the ground, I saw my nana had come home. She’d brought four of her friends and all of their grandkids. That included little Jimmy Price, who I happened to be enamored with. (Not that I ever spoke to him since I was so shy.) And in that moment, my Paw, back turned to the whole thing, held up his ring and shouted ‘found it!’ Only to turn and find me covered in cow poop and his wife watching with all her friends.”

Darla smiles a bit at your misfortune, “so he found the ring in the poop?”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “it was in his pocket all along.” Darla cackles this, nearly messing up the eyeliner her makeup artist tries to fix from her earlier tears.

“So what was the lesson in this fable?” Darla asks teasingly.

“Oh none,” you reply innocently, but a smirk grows on your face, “but at least you’re not heading out there covered in cow shit.” Darla grins and shakes her head, feeling up to the task now. The makeup artist nods at you and dashes from the room.

“Now honey,” you start, pulling Darla up from her chair, “you just blame your tardiness on me. Tell Caesar I was fawning all over you like a mother hen.” At least something useful came out of your run in with the Capitol’s darling.

Darla smiles a little, nodding. “And remember, just be your charming self- everyone here adores you,” you remind her. She seems a lot better now.

“Oh hey, where were you earlier?” Darla asks, about to head out the door.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” You tell her, smile dimming.

“Now you really sound like my mother,” Darla quips back, and you grin again.

With that, a stagehand pulls Darla away to where Caesar’s been waiting. There’s not much else you can do for the girl now. Out of your hands and into the Capitol’s. You can only hope Darla won’t freeze feeling all their eyes upon her.

You shouldn’t have been worried, though. Darla nails her post-games interview. The audience finds it adorable when the girl says she took so long because her mentor was fussing over her hair and her dress.

“You wouldn’t think it- but she’s a real mother hen.” Darla says, and you smile as you watch from backstage. The audience erupts into a gleeful sort of laughter at the comment.

Caesar knows just what to do with it, too, “well it’s no wonder, I’m sure you’ve made her proud!” Darla beams, and very convincingly so. “Let’s take a look back at Darla’s games!”

To your great relief, Darla holds it together through the recap. The girl gets boisterous applause as the leaves the stage, then comes flying into your arms once she’s out of sight. The force of it makes you stumble, but you quickly plant your feet and return the hug.

“You did great, kiddo,” you tell your tribute.

“Thanks!” Darla replies, speaking loudly from the adrenaline rush, “and thanks for telling me about when you face planted in a pile of cow poop back home, it really helped!”

Every single person milling around backstage turns to look at you when Darla says it. Not that the girl notices the extra eyes.

You drop your chin, trying to avoid the stares of these people. This is what you get for comforting her at your own expense. Taking a calming breath, you look up only to meet a pair of sea-green eyes.

Of course Finnick Odair heard that, and of course he’s smirking teasingly at you.

Like Jimmy Price all over again.

You stick your tongue out at him.

———————————————————

I did not edit this so I hope it’s ok lmao. The new hunger games movie was great so ofc finnick’s been on the brain

[capquinn]

Couldn’t Tell | Q. Hughes

summary: The relationship between you and Quinn is difficult to define. Friends and something more but you can’t be sure. Sidestepping the issue only prolongs the loop where the potential for something real stays just out of reach until one of you addresses it head on. pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes content: nothing crazy, just a lil situationalship angst word count: 1.6k ↪ masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s not like you had come to the party as dates, but he had asked if you were going so you had been hoping you’d find each other and spend the night getting tipsy in a dimly lit corner of the bar. That expectation made the disappointment hurt all the more.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

There is no way that he can’t see that she’s flirting with him, right?

Your eyes drift back to your friend, tuning back into the conversation you had only been half-listening to, trying to appear indifferent.

“So there I was, sitting in this meeting, with all these big wigs, and suddenly the CEO turns to me and asks for my opinion. Can you believe it?”

You nod absently, stirring your drink with the straw, gaze flickering back across the bar where Quinn is standing. He’s still engrossed in conversation with a brunette, his laugh ringing out through the room, mingling with the ambient party noise. She flicks her hair and lolls her head to the side, commanding his full attention. His smile widens, and he stares back at her like an idiot.

“I was so nervous but I just went for it. Told him all my ideas about improving the marketing strategy, and he loved it! They all did. They might even implement some of my suggestions for next quarter,” your friend continues, unaware of your distraction, voice a bright thread in the background.

Over her shoulder, you exchange glances with Quinn and it’s like a jolt of electricity, snapping you back to reality. “That’s amazing,” you murmur, focussing back on your friend. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks!” She beams. “It has been such a whirlwind. And the perks… Free coffee, flexible hours, and we even have an office dog called Max.”

“Oh, a dog. That’s so cute,” you say, trying to muster genuine enthusiasm, but now, the brunette is touching Quinn’s arm and he isn’t flinching away from her touch.

He throws his head back with another bout of laughter, and a surge of jealousy washes over you, your heart crashing with heavy thuds in your chest. Is he serious? Your eyes meet again, and it’s a sharp reminder of just how out of sync you feel.

Each shared glance feels like a lifeline, as if he’s going to offer a smile and make his way towards you, but then he looks away and the chasm between you grows.

It’s not like you had come to the party as dates, but he had asked if you were going so you had been hoping you’d find each other and spend the night getting tipsy in a dimly lit corner of the bar. That expectation made the disappointment of seeing him with someone else hurt all the more.

“Anyway,” your friend says, leaning in, tone dropping conspiratorially, “enough about me. How are things with you and Quinn? I’ve seen you making eyes at each other all night,” she giggles, throwing a glance over her shoulder in Quinn’s direction. If she notices the other girl, she doesn’t mention it.

You force a laugh, bringing your glass to your lips, buying some time to think of an answer other than, ‘well, he’s over there with someone else and I’m pretty sure they’re flirting with each other and there isn’t anything I can do about it because I’m not actually sure where we stand and it’s driving me insane.’

You had hoped tonight would provide a renewed sense of clarity. A glimpse into whether or not the connection that shimmered between you both was more than a fleeting moment. Instead, his easy laughter with someone else highlights the lingering ambiguity and you wonder if you had been reading the signals wrong all along. Are you merely a casual acquaintance, just a friend of a friend, rather than someone he genuinely cares about? Are your feelings misplaced or have you been expecting more than he’s willing to give? Perhaps you’ll always be on the periphery of his affections rather than at the centre.

But once you swallow around your racing thoughts, you settle with, “it’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” She raises an eyebrow. “What’s the deal?” The question hangs in the air, but your attention is already elsewhere.

What you had been dreading all night long finally happens. A cruel twist of fate.

The brunette glides closer to Quinn with deliberate grace, her hand trailing lightly over his arm, lingering just a moment too long to be casual. She leans in and her lips hover tantalisingly close to his ear, brushing against his skin. Intimate and unmistakable. Your heart twists in knots as the space between them charges with a private electricity, and it puts so much distance between you and Quinn that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to bridge the gap now.

And then there is a change in his demeanour that’s jarring. Quinn’s initial surprise morphs into a subtle discomfort. Body tensing and eyes widening slightly as the closeness of her whisper registers. The easy laughter falters, replaced with a hesitant smile. He shifts, creating a noticeable distance between them, gently moving away from her touch. In a swift move, his gaze sweeps across the room and lock on yours through the crowded space, his eyes a mix of concern and something that looks like an apology.

A ball of anxiety sits heavy in your chest as he looks directly at you, realising that he saw you witness the entire exchange. The weight of it feels like a direct confrontation to all your insecurities. The uncertainty of your relationship with Quinn has always been a hidden wound, but now it’s exposed and raw.

You turn back to your friend. “Sorry, I just need to…” you trail off, straining a smile as you collect your belongings. Unwilling to sit here a moment longer and bear witness to any further turmoil. “I think I need some fresh air. It’s getting crowded in here,” you excuse yourself, sliding on your coat.

She watches you fumble with your bag. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be back soon. Save me a drink,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

When you reach the exit, the cool night air is a welcome contrast to the oppressive heat inside the bar. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension of the evening. Just as you step outside, you sense a presence behind you, and then Quinn is suddenly in front of you, blocking your path.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper against the backdrop of the quiet street. “I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to apologise,” you cut him short, your voice thick with exhaustion.

His brows furrow, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “I feel like I do,” he presses earnestly.

“It’s fine, Quinn.”

“It’s not fine,” he insists, his voice low and regretful. “I didn’t realise what was going on until it was too late. I’m sorry.”

“You really don’t need to apologise for being oblivious,” you start, your voice faltering slightly despite your best efforts to appear indifferent. “We’re not together so it’s not a big deal,” you hesitate, chuckling nervously, bracing yourself as you teeter on the brink of blowing this whole thing wide open.

You’re tired of the ambiguity that hangs between you, the way your conversations dance around the core of what you both really want. To be together or to go your seperate ways — you really couldn’t tell the difference anymore. The fear of pushing too hard and making things awkward has kept both of you on edge, leading to a pattern where everything remains in flux. It’s as if every time you think you’re getting closer to an answer, the goalposts shift, and you’re left grappling with even more questions than before.

But there’s a simmering resolve that builds with each passing moment. Continuing to sidestep the issue will only prolong the loop where the potential for something real will always stay just out of reach.

Gathering your strength, you take a deep breath and steel yourself. “It caught me by surprise because I thought you liked me back and that this was leading to something more. It made me realise that I don’t really know where we stand. Am I misreading the signals?”

Quinn’s eyes twinkle with a mix of amusement and warmth. “Am I doing this all wrong?” he asks, his smile playful.

You look at him, puzzled and twinging with frustration. Is this a joke to you? “What do you mean?”

He chuckles, a soft, disbelieving laugh that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Seriously. Am I not being obvious? I’m out here trying to apologise and explain so that you don’t get the wrong idea,” he pauses, gauging your reaction. “I’m interested in you, and I should have made that clear, not just to her but to you too.”

Your breath catches as his words sink in. “Oh,” you whisper. You take a moment, processing the shift in the conversation. “But tonight you were—,”

“I honestly didn’t even realise she was crossing lines,” Quinn interrupts, his tone apologetic. “Hand over heart. I thought she was just being friendly,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck, a flush creeping over his cheeks. “I mean, I should have noticed.”

The haze is beginning to clear.

“So, you’re saying…what exactly?”

A smile grows as he steps towards you, eyes locked on yours. “I’m saying that I like you and I want us to be more than whatever this is,” Quinn affirms, his gaze steady and sincere, fingers intertwining with yours.

You squeeze his hand, relieved. “I want that too,” you confess barely above a whisper, acutely aware of how your heart is racing as your bodies inch closer.

His smile widens, his eyes locked on yours. His hand gently cups your cheek, breaths mingling as he leans in closer, your noses nearly touching.

In that moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. You push up onto your tiptoes, closing the gap between you and pressing your lips to his. The kiss is brief but filled with a depth of feeling that words can’t quite capture.

As you pull back, the world around you settles into a new rhythm and the boundaries of your relationship are redrawn. What were once blurred lines are clearly defined; all is made explicit.

[leviraaaaaa]

In another life?

Levi stared at you from across the room, watching you as you distractedly fumbled with the straps of your gear. He watched as your fingers clumsily attempted to work with the clasp on your thigh properly, only for it to keep slipping out of your grasp, again and again, earning annoyed huffs from you. You were late, you knew. The others in the room had already cleared out, leaving only you as you struggled and Levi as he watched. But the more you tried to hurry, the worse it kept getting, the belts getting all tangled up with each other and you looked like you were about to cry.

He would've left by now as well, if not for you and your misery that made him stick around. It was very unusual to see you this unsettled, specially right before an expedition. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably. Levi felt frustrated only by watching you. Finally, he sighed and stepped forward.

“Call yourself a captain and you can't even tie your gear.” He muttered as he kneeled in front of you. Without letting you protest, he slapped your shaking hands away and took the strap to his own hands.

You were about to argue but when he shot a glare at you. You shut up. Even you knew when to be stubborn and when to be not and the clock that ticked away on the wall was a clear indication of what the choice should be. Therefore, you settled with a quietly mumbled curse but stretched out your leg anyway.

His expert hands worked fluidly, slipping underneath the belt and wrapping it around your shin. He pulled out one end and the leather grasped to your leggings.

“Too tight?”

“No.”

He did the other leg too, finishing the task you'd been struggling with for the past 15 minutes within 10 seconds. When he was done, his hand hesitantly reached up for for the ones at your thighs. He shot a questioning glance up towards you for approval and you nodded. This was no time for proprietary. He went back to work.

“What's on your mind?” He asked, glancing at you with gray eyes when he was done. In them, he had worry.

Everything. You wanted to say when you looked at him. Everything.

But of course you don't.

You shook your head, standing up. Wordlessly, you stepped around him, picking up the the sword sheathes hanging on the wall and adjusted them to your waist.

Levi stood up as well, brushing down his pants. He was about to tell you he didn't buy it. There was something wrong, he could tell, but before he could part his mouth, someone entered.

“Levi—Ah, I see you're here as well.” Erwin's deep voice reaches you as you turned. “Shadis is asking about your absence. We have about 5 minutes until we depart. Is everything okay?” Erwin's blue eyes found you as he asked the last question. Levi didn't fail to notice.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, a little too quickly perhaps. Levi's eyes narrowed. “I'll meet you out, sir.”

You sidestepped Erwin, in a hurry to leave the room. But just before your face disappeared, he caught the sight of absolute despair that was etched on your face.

.

“What's wrong with her?”

Erwin turned around, not surprised to find Levi on his horse, stanidng out of formation and beside him. “Levi.” He said pointedly.

“Don't be an ass, I'm going back in a minute.” He snapped. He knew Erwin knew something. “What the hell is wrong with her?”

“Hange says she's sick. Threw up in the morning twice apparently. Refused to have breakfast as well.” He shrugged.

Now that he thinks about it, sure, he hadn't seen you down at breakfast hours. He had just assumed you'd gotten in earlier.

Levi looked outraged. “And you're letting her out like that?”

“Levi, really.” Erwin sighed, looking at him. “Since when does she listen to me?”

Levi felt irritated. It was stupid of him not to realize Erwin must have told you to stay in. More stupid of him to not realize you had said no, like the arrogant shit you were.

“Put me near her.” He said suddenly. “Let Eld handle my squad.”

Erwin gave him a strange look. It made Levi self-conscious. “What?” He said defensively. He knew it was strange, fuck, but he couldn't think of another way.

“She can take care of herself." Erwin said. "She's a soldier, she knows what she's getting into. If she thinks she can handle it, why not have a little faith?”

“If she dies out there because she's too fucking stubborn, you'd be the one sorry.”

Erwin looked thoughtful. “Heart getting in the way of your head, Levi?”

Levi felt heat rushing to his cheeks. But Erwin cut him off before he could say anything.

“But yes,” He nodded. “I was going to tell Hange to keep an eye on her. But you don't listen to me either, do you?” He looked at him, the blonde man's piercing blue eyes searing straight through Levi's soul. “Do as you may.”

Do as you may. Levi thought about the words as he turned his horse around. Do as he might— for a friend. If that's what you were.

.

“Are you supposed to be here?” You asked tiredly, glancing at him when his horse stopped beside you.

“No.”

You frowned.

“Last minute change of formation.” Levi lied.

“Erwin didn't tell me.”

“Because he sent me here to tell you.”

You gave him a skeptical look. It was clear you did not believe him, but you didn't say anything else.

And that's how Levi knew there was something definitely, definitely wrong. Anytime else, you would've never let this go easily. You would've pestered him, annoyed him with questions, teased him, made every use of it until you got the answers you were looking for. Then you would argue. Bicker at him to convince you were okay so he left you. You hated the idea of getting help anyways, specially from him.

.

Expedition had started a while ago. Neither you or Levi had exchanged any words since then.

The two of you were on watch duty, perched on a tree as you scanned around for any upcoming titans, the smoke gun ready at your hand. A bland job, unsuited for both of you and very below your skill level. But you weren't complaining and you always complained.

You looked pale. There were bruises under your eyes and your lips were chapped, you looked fragile as a bird, a very exhausted bird.

And it was because Levi was watching you so closely that he noticed the exact moment your eyes lost focus.

The exact moment your muscles went slack and the grip around your swords went loose.

The exact moment your legs crumbled and you dropped forward.

And it was because he was watching you, because in his guts, he was certain there was something wrong and every inch of him was guarded that his body kicked in just the exact moment you tipped and he dived forward, catching you seconds before you crashed onto the ground like a broken ragdoll.

—

You were sitting at a table in the sidelines, watching couples as they swayed in rhythm to the melody of the piano all around the ballroom. You hummed along, tapping your fingers as you took a swig of your drink.

It was a ball hosted with a goal to fund for the scouts. It looked all fancy, but really under those painted and polite faces were twisted thoughts and sly hearts. You could feel the political tension thrumming in the air. And though you never really liked the social expectations to meet when attending these, it was fun to dress up and get a taste of the life of nobles for a night.

Shame that it's your last ever one.

You startled when the dark-haired man appeared beside you and sank down on a chair without a word.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue impatiently, plucking off a glass from the nearby waiter. He swung one of his legs over the other, his irritated face stood out bluntly amongst all the polite smiles and pleasantries. "How long do we have to stay here?"

"Levi." You smiled. He didn't return your smile, or even turned to look at you. He merely frowned, the slight wrinkles around his eyes indicating the foul mood was not at all uncommon for him. "Manners."

"Manners? If Erwin forces me to talk to one more of those stuck up rich bastards—"

"You're the star here. 'Humanity's Strongest' remember?"

"What a joke." He huffed frustratedly. "Don't call me that. It's like I'm a product being advertised to be sold."

"If you put it that way." You shrugged. Raw words, you thought. No false Incase of politeness. He said what he thought, no filters. Always. "The human miracle, the thug from underground that held talent like no other, the one who'd save humankind. Sounds like a pretty tempting investment."

"I will pour this on you I swear."

You giggled.

"Lots of admirers though." You tilted your head to observe the group of young girls huddled in a corner, ogling at him, giggling softly and pointing. Levi shot them a halfhearted, disinterested glance, which only made them squeal louder. He scowled.

"Won't fucking leave me alone." He mumbled.

You smiled, watching him as he fidgeted, fingers holding the wine glass by the strange way you've always seen him, by the rim. He looked out of place. In this grand room filled with colors and vibrance, he was dressed in black. Trousers, shoes, waistcoat, suit—it was all different shades of black. And even his eyes were a shade of gray. It contrasted against the paleness of his skin.

He was beautiful, you thought, watching him from the corner of your eyes. Beautiful. But there was an edge to it. Like the way the sharp edge of a sword glitters in the moonlight. Intimidating. Dangerous. Mesmerizing.

It only ever made you want to steal a closer look, to peer at his heart to see if his soul was as stone made as he appeared.

You've known him for so long, since the first he ever became a scout. Yet here, right now, in the midst of all this grandeur and with him looking like someone straight out of a novel, you felt like a little child. A lovesick little teenager getting her first crush. Not a scout who's killed titans. It always felt like that. With him. It was like hoping for the moon, and you're only just a silly, silly human.

You've known him for so long and you've grown so close, yet now that you look at him, he's never felt further away.

You were only just a girl when it was him.

Levi was cruel, there was no other way to put it. But yet, as you came to realize through the years, the unkind words he threw at your way sometimes, they were only just that. He didn't mean half of it, almost as if he said them only out of habit. He was kind too, you noticed. In the strangest ways. He'd let you pester him all day, make him help you with his work, forcefully make him listen to every gossip you learnt about, rant about your little romance novels, and in turn, sometimes, when you pushed, he'd even share glimpses of your own life.

You think the strangest thing was that about him. That he pretended he didn't care, that he hated listening to you rant but somehow he always remembered the smallest details, some of which even you forgot sometimes. Levi seemed to always notice the day you didn't sleep enough, when you looked too tired, when you felt uncomfortable.He’d remind you to eat, to take care of yourself, to rest.

From a young age, you had learnt to accept that life was always going to be too short for you. That it will never be enough. There will always be something more you'd need. And so you had forced yourself to keep everyone at an arm's length. Fuck around but never, ever fall. Because it'd hurt so much less when the end bell finally rang.

So what were you to do, when your heart starts to beat differently for that one strange, complex man?

You liked the way Levi looked at you. His gaze honest and clear. You liked how straight he was with his words.

It was nice. To be with someone so rudely honest. Because Levi looked at you as if you were you. And it reminded you that this scarcity of life you were given weren't all you were.

You were a living, breathing person.

Levi made you feel alive.

A voice cut you off your thinking. There was a man in front of you, trying to gain your attention. And you smiled politely, rejecting what was probably the dozenth of man who proposed to you for a dance. Levi glanced at the dejected man who walked away sullen.

"Won't you dance?" He suddenly asked, looking at you. "You haven't moved an inch since you've been here. I thought you liked this shit."

You only shook your head.

"Why not? You look like you want to."

You smiled sheepishly. "Not tonight." Not ever.

He sat up straight, finally turning to look at you. He put his glass down, his expression serious. Steel gaze searing through your skin.

"You're resigning." The words were a statement but it was also a question.

You stared at him.

"You didn't tell me." He said accusingly. "I had to find out from fucking Erwin tonight. Why are you resigning?"

There was genuine concern underneath, and that made your heart throb a little.

"Well?" He demanded, the hint of frustration lacing his usually cool, flat voice at the lack of answer.

"Sure you know, Levi." You sighed.

He raised an eyebrow brow inquiringly, looking confused.

"What? Is this because you passed out during the last expedition? You've been a wet rag ever since." He said. " Don't tell me you blame yourself for that and think you're incapable or something."

"I am incapable."

"Bullshit. It was this one time and it's probably because you skipped meals or something. You're better than half the other idiots."

Oh.

You realized suddenly as you met his eyes.

He doesn't know.

Levi doesn't know yet.

No one told him.

Erwin hadn't told him. Your eyes found Erwin's blue ones in a corner of the room. He gave you a slight nod, turning his focus back to the men he was conversing with. He must've thought it would be best if you told him yourself.

You felt despair.

You clasped your fingers, then unclasped it. The room was suddenly so cold. You can't do this.

Levi was still watching at you, waiting, his brows furrowed. He spared a glance at Erwin as well. You couldn't help but think how strange fate was. It pushed rose colored glasses onto you, granting you those soft beautiful moments and convincing you that, this is nice, this is perfect, you can live like this.

Until you're here. Until suddenly the delusions slip out and reality is a far, far tougher enemy to defeat than titans.

How do you tell Levi time was running out?

That fate was a cruel, cruel little thing.

“What's going on?” He said quietly, his shoulders tense. Like he could sense your feelings somehow. There was a subtle sign of panic in him at your silence. “What aren't you telling me?”

“Oh." You muttered tiredly, eyes downcast. He was staring at you, narrowed gray eyes. You looked almost sad, melancholic. "Don't you know?"

"What?" He blinked.

"Levi," You looked up, bracing yourself for the next words. "I'm dying."

Levi choked on his drink.

—

Levi hadn't seen you since then.

He didn't know what happened to you.

You had disappeared the day after, your office cleared of all possessions, and Erwin had only told him you had gone back home. He had no way of contacting you, no way of visiting you, no way of confronting you to ask what the fuck were you talking about. He could hardly focus on his work because that's all he could think about. You looking at him with those eyes, with the saddest face he had ever seen you make. He can't forget the words you said, how you said it. That's all he could think about.

So when he received the letter, your neat, elegant handwriting on the smooth paper surface, he was relieved. And worried. And surprised.

You had wrote only two words.

"Meet me?"

He frowned. Meet you where?

But when he turned to look at the envelope, turning it on his hand to check the sender's address, he froze.

Behind it, was the address of a hospital.

—

Hange was going from corridor to corridor, swooping through room to room to find you as Levi quietly follows. He felt nauseous as he walked. He never liked hospitals. Today, he hated it even more.

It didn't take long. Hange asked a few nurses and they all seemed to know you. Levi registered it numbly, how often you must've come here for everyone to know you by name only. He remembered the times you’d disappear without explanation. Was that for hospital check ups? How long had you been sick and he hadn't realized?

“Ah!” Hange's excited yelp broke him out of his daze. They disappeared behind an open door. “There you are!”

From the other side, he could hear a muffled voice. A voice he knows. He doesn't step in though. His hands are balled into a fist as he squeezed them in his pockets. It didn't feel real. This can't be real. There's no way you're on the other side of that door.

“No, Erwin couldn't come. He's been so busy but Levi—huh, where did Levi go? Wait, let me go and—” Hange's head pops back out. “Shortie, are you being shy? She's looking for you!”

Fuck. Was there still time to leave this fucking place?

But no, Hange knew. They were looking at him with the same excited expression but their eyes had a strange, determined look. You have to do this, they were telling him. For your sake.

So he did. He exhaled sharply and hoped for composure and walked in.

And nothing in this world ever could've prepared him for what he saw.

Just over the few weeks, your eyes had sunken to your face and your cheeks were hollow. And your face was pale, almost as colorless as the white hospital walls. There were wires attached to you, through your wrist, through your nose.

You looked broken.

But your eyes lit up the moment you saw him.

"Hello." You smiled.

And yet somehow, he thought, in the strangest way, you still looked beautiful. Now more than ever. Beautiful in a way that terrified him. It made him feel sick to his stomach. But he couldn’t look away.

He swallowed the dread down.

"You look like shit." He said.

You broke into a smile.

"Sit." You patted across a chair beside you. "Don't worry, I've made them disinfect the room twice. No germs." You reassured him, grinning. You knew him so well.

He said nothing, but silently took a seat

When you beamed up at him and his heart tugged. It took so little to make you happy.

Then you turned back to Hange, the two of you slipping to easy conversation. He doesn't know for how long. He kept his eyes on the floor. To look anywhere but you. He doesn't know when the time passed, but every once a while you would laugh at something Hange said and that's the only time he would feel conscious, your voice bringing him back. That's the only time he spared a glance at you.

You laughed the same. You looked in pain, but you laughed the same.

It went on for a while more, as the two of you chatted, discussing such casual things, none of you addressing him. He was grateful for it, to be ignored. Grateful to not be expected to be included in the conversation. It was hard enough to be here. He's not you or Hange. He couldn't pretend everything's fine and laugh about it.

But he could almost convince himself that everything was fine. Everything was fine. He was in the meeting room in the Scouts headquarters with everyone else and you were fine. Hange was shitting about military police and you were agreeing. Hange was telling you about titans and you were listening. And in this version, you were fine. You weren't here in this small, colorless hospital room, with tubes and needles going through you.

“Right. It's getting late, so I gotta go. I hope you feel better, girlie,” Hange's voice snapped him out of his daze as they pushed back on the chair to get up. He dully notices Hange's choice of words. Feel better. Not get better. “We’ll try to come by when we can. Make sure to drop by when you can as well. C’mon Levi let's go.” They nudged his shoulders. Levi felt relief. He needed some fucking air.

But Levi was only about to stand up when your fingers reached out to wrap around his hand.

“Levi.” You asked him, speaking directly to him for the first time in the hour. “Stay a while?”

He flinched when you touched him. He doesn't meet your eyes. Instead they find Hange's brown ones, who were watching the interaction closely.

“Sure Levi, why don't you accompany her?” They smacked his shoulders casually, but Levi didn't miss the intentional squeeze. “You don't have anything to do today anyway.”

Levi considered rejecting you for a second, considered making up some shitty excuse to escape this room and escape you, but then he looked at your eager expression and he found himself sitting back down. Levi could get low, but even him wouldn't go this low. He couldn't go that cheap. He couldn't be that much of a fucking coward.

“Wonderful.” Hange grinned. “Tell shortie to behave please. He'd been a mess ever since you left.”

“I will.”

Then Hange was gone. Leaving the two of you with each other and a chilling silence.The first confrontation in weeks.

He didn't think this room could get any more fucking suffocating.

He glanced down where your hand touched his. Your wrist looked so slender it was as if he could break it just by wrapping his hand around it. Skin and bones, that's all you were. Fragile.

"I'm glad you came." You whispered.

Levi inhaled sharply. You could tell him to jump off an edge right then and he'd probably do it.

For a long moment, Levi said nothing, just stared at where your hand rested on his wrist. His fingers itched to pull you closer, but he held back. He holds you gently, so gently, like you were made of glass.

Like you were the most precious thing he's ever held in this lifetime and now you were slipping away.

"I don't understand." He said suddenly.

You stayed quiet. You knew what he meant.

He felt angry at you. So fucking pissed. He felt betrayed. It's like everyone knew except him. Erwin knew. Hange knew. He didn't. Then you fucking spring this on him and disappear for weeks. And that wasn’t fair. That wasn't fucking fair.

“You could've told me.”

You looked down, letting out a soft breath. “I didn’t know how.” you admitted. You never wanted to see that look on your face.

Not yet. Even now that you'd told him, you wished you didn't. You wished you had a little more time.

Levi clenched his jaw, casting his eyes to the sterile white floors.

“When?” His voice was rough.

“Always.”

So you'd been sick. From the day you'd arrived. He felt hollow. In Levi's head, he could remember you. He could remember the first he'd seen you. You were dying then and he hadn't known.

After a pause, he spoke again, his voice carefully blank and face expressionless. Silver eyes devoid of all emotions as they looked down at you.

“How long?”

You keep quiet. Not long. You don't tell him that though. After a while, you spoke. “I don't know.” You said. “Days? Weeks? Months? Who knows. I'm not getting better.” You smiled.

He doesn't know what to say to that. How to respond to that.

He doesn't know how to feel.

"You were fine." He said, almost numbly. As if affirming it would make it true.

"No " You shook your head. "No, I wasn't.”

"You were fine. Even weeks ago. You were fine.” He repeated, shaking his head. He knew it was pathetic. He knew it was hopeless. He knew he was just lying to himself because hell, if he's got to accept this shit. He pulled away his hand from you, ignoring the hurt look on your face. “You were fine. You went out on expeditions. You fought titans. You sparred with Miche. You were fucking fine.”

"I'm sorry." You whispered. But he shot a heated glare at you. That wasn't what he was asking.

“The meds stopped working." You shrugged. “It was always going to. Eventually. It's surprising that it even worked for so long.”

Finally, after minutes of agonizing silence, he let out a tired breath. “Leave it to you to find the stupidest way to die.” He muttered.

You smiled weakly. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

So much pain. He was in so much pain, you knew.

Levi doesn't show it, he refused to show it, but fuck, you knew him so well, it hurt. He cared so much. So so much.

You'd seen him hold on to a dead comrade for months. Everyone would forget them, not Levi.

Levi can't let go.

It was his eyes that gave it away. Never had he ever looked at you that way. His eyes seared through your soul like he was searching for an answer. Searching for a way, something to hold onto you with. Like he knew. He knew you were fading away. Like he could feel the emptiness you felt with every breath. In his eyes, you saw the most subtle glimpse of despair.

The more you looked at him, the more you felt vulnerable. Something was breaking inside you at the sight of him. Every bit of desire you'd locked away was strangling your heart.

He was here, with his dark hair falling over his face and the silver gleaming through his half lidded eyes and shit, he was so beautiful. Since the day you met him. You felt so soft when he looked at you. So fragile.

You yearned. So badly. Would it be so wrong?

“Do you think I'm pretty?” You asked him.

Levi was confused, caught completely off-guard. “What?” His asked uncertainly?

“I want to know.”

“You want to know if I think you're pretty?”

“Yes.” You smiled.

“Do you always have to be so unserious?”

“Yes.”

Levi blinked. Then sighed. You and your fucking theatrics. “You’d think someone who's dying would ask smarter questions.” He muttered under his breath.

You held your gaze. You wanted him to answer.

Levi balled his hand to a fist. His fingernails digged into his hand. He knew he couldn't lie. Not when you were looking at him like that.

“...I don't know.” He exhaled softly. “Sure, I guess. You keep a neat face. I suppose you don't look that shitty.”

“Even now?’’ You looked at him pointedly.

He stared at you. You and your sunken cheeks and your fragile hands and your tired eyes. You looked ethereal.

Even now.

“Yes.”

You thought you might cry. It hurt. It hurt more because you knew he was being honest. You could tell from the way he was looking at you. He still saw you in the brightest light.

And that sums up the kind of person Levi is.

You're pretty, Levi. You want to tell him. You're so fucking pretty, did you know that?

You don't though.

But he did look so fucking pretty.

You felt sad suddenly. All those fucking years he chose to be a nonchalant bitch. He chose to act like he doesn't give a fuck. And now that you're here, to the end of your lifeline, now he was gonna look at you like that?

You can't do this.

You thought you could, but no. You overestimated your strength. You thought you could handle this. You thought you were strong enough, strong enough to be with him like this, strong enough to handle the way he was looking at you. But no. You should've never called him here.

You can't do this.

He has to go. For your sake. And for his.

“Levi.”

“What?” It was so unfair, you knew.

“Leave.”

His eyes widened. But you held your gaze.

Levi was startled at the sudden shift of mood, the abrupt turn the conversation took. He stared blankly.

“I want you to leave, Levi. And never come back.”

His mind felt empty. There was something strange in your eyes, a desperation. You were looking at him like you wanted him to understand something. Like you needed him to understand. But he didn't understand. What was happening? Why were you saying that?

“You don’t mean that.” He said flatly, after a stretched pause as he waited for an explanation. He looked as calm as ever, but you could see the confusion in his eyes.

You sighed, turning away and leaning back on your headrest. You refused to look at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He pressed when you didn't respond.

You shook your head.

“I don't want you here anymore.”

“Why?” His voice was so blank but shit, you could just feel the strain underneath.

“I don't want you here anymore.” You repeated, closing your eyes. “I don't want you to see me like this.”

“You don't get to decide that.” He said, his voice harsh and laced, now with an anger as he started to realize where this was going.

“I can actually. I call the nurses. They kick you out.”

“You're being stupid. I can't just—” He sounded frustrated. “I can't just leave you here alone.”

You shook your head again.

“What the fuck? You're the one who brought me here. You're the one who wanted me to stay."

You did, didn't you? What were you thinking? Steadying your expression and masking the absolute heart wrenching pain you were feeling, you looked at him.

“I'm not going to let you do this.” You said calmly. “I'm gonna get worse. And then I'm gonna get worse. More and more. And you're gonna hate it. I'm not going to let you do this to yourself.”

He stared at you with disbelief.

“Let me go, Levi.” You whispered, your voice cracking. “You can't save me. Not this time.”

—

Well, you were a fucking idiot if you thought he was gonna give up just like that.

He wasn't going to leave you like that. In that soul less, lifeless, shitty ass hospital room, tied up to fucking machines and whatnot. He wasn't going to leave you there all alone. You're insane if you thought he was going to.

But he did leave you alone for the two weeks. He's known you too long. You get mad when people doesn't listen to and throw this big pissy rampage and Levi, for one, did not have the mood to deal with that and two, he suspected it would not be good for your health. Another reason is the hospital’s too fucking far from the headquarters. It took so much time or else he would've come earlier. He couldn't focus shit on his work because all he'd been thinking about were you and all he did was wait for another mail where you apologize and take back your words and ask him to come and visit again. You didn't.

He still showed up today, though.

With a bouquet of flowers in his hand. They felt heavy surprisingly. It was sappy as hell and he kept cringing internally everytime he looked at it. Fucking hell, he'd never though this day's come.

He looked up. It looked like it was going to rain today.

Then he braced himself. Knowing the stubborn shit you were, you were bound to throw out a reaction. But he hoped you'd forgotten about it. Hence, also the flowers. Hopefully, they'd be enough to calm you down. But frankly enough, he didn't give a fuck about your stupid reasons. For his own sake, he had to be there. He had to be with you.

So he stepped into the hospital, taking in a deep breath once the sterile scent kicked in.

He retraced his steps the last time he'd been here, taking the steps slowly. When he reached the floor you were on, he set off to the left corridor, trying to remember which room was yours. But he finds it soon enough, the familiar door.

He took a deep breath, the scent of hospitals making him suffocated. He felt nauseous again. He wondered how you looked now. Was he strong enough to do this?

Were you right? Maybe for his sake, he shouldn't be here. His heart pounded so hard against his chest and he couldn't breathe.

Fuck it.

He stepped in. Then halted.

Empty.

Everything was empty.

The shelves. The table. The bed. Every inch of the room sparkled like someone had just cleaned it recently, the scent of disinfectant hanging on the air. The last time he'd been here, there were those weird romance novels you used to like, piled on the table. All of them were gone. The bed was made up, white sheet spread smooth with the corners folded and the pillows fluffed. Like no one had ever laid there.

Like no one had ever been in this room.

“...you're…Captain Levi, aren't you?”

The soft voice startled him. He jolted, turning around to find a young girl looking at him curiously, reddish hair peeking through her blue nurse cap. He recognized her. He'd seen him the last time he was here, she was the one who showed Hange and him to your room. Her hazel eyes softened when he turned around.

“She's told us a lot about you.” She said, explaining.

Levi doesn't talk. He doesn't blink. He doesn't breathe. His hand gripped onto the bouquet harder.

“Has she been moved?” He asked, his voice harsh. He tried to steady it but his hands were sweaty and his heartbeat was rising. “Do you know where she's—”

But she was looking at him sadly, and Levi knew. Levi knew then.

The ground underneath swayed slightly and he found his eyes travelling to the floor. What was he doing here? Why did he come here today? He needs to leave leave leaveleaveleave—

He didn't need to hear the words from her, he already knew. He looked down to his hands, which were shaking slightly. The bouquet was almost haphazard from how tightly he'd been holding them. They felt heavier.

“She said you'd come back.” She told him, looking at him pitifully. “Come with me, please.”

Levi followed her. He didn't know why. He didn't even want to know why. But his head was empty and he could no longer form a thought. He could no longer think, only do what he's asked.

He didn't process where she's leading her, but then they're standing in front of a room. She tells him to wait and goes back in. Levi waited. He doesn't know for how long. Time meant nothing anymore.

She came out a couple seconds later, an envelope in her hand. She holds it out to him.

“She told me to give you this. She asked me to keep it. I told her she should just mail it but she insisted you'd come back.” She let out a soft sigh.

For a second, Levi doesn't do anything.

He stared at the paper in her hand blankly, unable to process it. His eyes hurt from staring, but in the back of his head, he already knew what it was. He should be curious, intrigued. Sad. Something. Anything. He shouldn't be this numb. But he couldn't show a reaction. He felt so tired. He stiffly reached out, taking the letter from her hand

He vaguely registered the elegant scroll of your writing on top of the white surface. To Levi, it said.

The girl looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond. To ask. To react. But when he didn't say anything, she looked almost disappointed.

“That's all, then.” She tells him, giving him a polite nod. “I'm sorry for your loss. I will be heading back now.”

Levi didn't say anything.

It's only when she's walking away, when she's getting further and further, he remembered something.

“Wait.” He called out, his voice hoarse. He has to ask. He needed to ask. He must know.

She stopped, turning back.

He let out a shaky breath. He needed to know. “Do you know when…” He inhaled, his voice was shaking, shit. He steadied it. “When did she…?”

He doesn't need to finish his sentence, she already knows. She looked at him. “Not long.” She answered kindly. “It’s been 3 days.”

3 days. You'd left the world 3 days ago.

“Did it..” He tried to find the right words to say. He remembered how you winced everytime you moved. “...was she in pain? When she passed?”

She shook her head. “No.” She said. “It was peaceful. She had a smile on her face.”

Right. Of course you fucking did.

Barely aware of his own actions, he turned to walk away. He needed to get out of here.

“Actually..” She started again, her voice hesitant, stopping Levi in his tracks. Like she wasn't sure she should say this. “The last word she said…it was your name.”

He can't breathe. “What?”

“‘Levi.’ she said.” The nurse told him with a soft look. “'Levi' was the last thing she said.”

—

Levi,

I knew you'd come back.

You stubborn fucking asshole. You were never going to listen to me in the first place.

Are you angry at me? You are, I know. You have every right to be. I know you're so mad at me right now and probably cursing me, but I couldn't let you be there. I know it's so cruel of me. But believe me, I had no choice. For my sake. For my sake, I couldn't let you be there. I couldn't let you see me die like that.

You have to understand. I was so scared, Levi. So terrified. And the more I looked at you, the more scared I felt.

I didn't want to leave you.

I don't care about rotting in a grave somewhere, Levi. I just didn't want to leave you.

You'd think after knowing from birth that you were going to die soon, you'd learn to not be afraid of it. You'd think being in the scouts, where everyday was a gamble, you'd learn to not be afraid of it. And I did. I swear I did. Death didn't scare me anymore. That's why I did so well in the scouts. You used to call me reckless, but there's no point of being scared for a life you were going to lose either way, was there?

I thought I could do this. I thought I could get over it. I thought I didn't have anything to lose.

But then I met you.

You with your stupid fucking ego and your stupid fucking attitude. You with the stupid hair and you with the stupid face. You with the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.

And it scared me so much. So much. What I felt for you. This constant yearning to be near you. I had so little time. All I ever wanted was to be with you. But I had so little time.

I'm sorry for always annoying the shit out of you. But I had so little time. I had to make the most of it. But as it turned out, it was never enough. It was never going to be enough.

The day the meds stopped working, the day I passed out on that expedition, the day the doctors told me there's nothing they could do anymore, the first thought I had was, “I can't be with Levi anymore.”

Not “I'm gonna die.”

But it was you I thought of.

It's so strange, isn't it? I've spent half a lifetime in hospitals and tied up to machines, having to take dozens of meds everyday just so my organs would keep functioning. I was so tired of it all, all I wanted was for it to end. I waited so eagerly for the day it'd all stop. But now that we're here, I'd do anything, I'd do anything to spend one last day with you. One last hour. One last minute. I'd give up anything to go out on one last expedition with you. Just to hear you call me a ‘suicidal fucking psycho’ again. Just to hear you get mad at me again. Just so you could lecture me. Just so you could smack my head and tell me what a fucking dumbass I am. Just one last time, for you to wrap my wounds with the gentlest hands.

I hope you know you changed everything.

You gave me my life back.

And I will owe it to you for eternity.

I'm rambling, aren't I? I don't know how much longer I have, at best 2-3 days. My lungs are going to shit and I've been tied to a nebulizer the whole week. I can't even hold the pen properly because my hands are shaking so bad and it hurts to even write. But I want to. I want to write. I want to tell you so much stuff, to tell you everything, to tell you anything. Shit, I wish you were here. It hurts to breathe, Levi, and I wish you were here. It always hurt so much less when you were here.

I think I'm going to stop here.

I can't fit a lifetime of unsaid things in one letter, could I?

Tell Hange I love them and tell Erwin, I said thank you. I'd write them letters as well if it didn't hurt so bad, so you're gonna have to relay it for me.

Don't be mean to Hange, okay? You know they love you. Let them take care of you. Let others take care of you. You don't have to be the strongest all the time. It's okay, I swear it is. It's okay to let go. It's okay to be selfish. You're gonna be okay, I promise.

I'm going to write one last thing. It's okay if you get mad at me for this, I deserve it. But I really needed to say this. I really wanted you to know. I'm just sorry it had to be in one shitty letter.

But I need you to forgive me, Levi. I'm sorry that I'm so much of a coward that I never said it to you when I had the time. I'm sorry that this is how I'm letting you know.

I really like you. You have no idea, do you?

You're such an asshole. But you're the most lovable asshole I've ever met.

It wasn't much of a life, but I hope you know that I've loved you with all of it.

If Hange's theory of multiple realities is true, I hope I get to meet you in every one. I hope you're my friend in every one. I hope I get to fall for you in every one.

Matbe I'll see you again. In another life, perhaps?

This time, I would do it right. This time, I wouldn't do this by a stupid letter. This time, I would say the words, true and honest, with every bit of my soul.

I love you, Levi. My heart failed to keep me alive but it never failed to love you.

With the little life I was given, I've loved you with all of it.

Till my last breath.

Sincerely.

P.s. I don't know if you found it, but I've stashed a bunch of those green tea you like in the bottom drawer. Parting gift.

—

Levi stood before a tombstone.

It was gray, like the sky. It was definitely going to rain.

He'd been standing here for a while now, in the cemetery, the letter clutched to his hand, the bouquet still on his other hand. The flowers were all wilted now, but the air still smelled like roses. The grave in front of him was fresh, it was obvious it's barely a couple days old. There was a name etched on the stone, a name he's known for so long. A name he knows so well.

Strangely, it didn't hurt. He didn't feel anything really. There was a strange vacancy in his chest, a voidness where his heart should be. He felt empty, like he lost a part of him somewhere.

He glanced at the letter again. It was wrinkled now, from how hard his fingers been clutching it. He glanced back at the last few sentences and he felt that familiar tug in his chest again.

Levi's head felt empty.

Out of all the ways he'd thought he might lose you, this wasn't one of them.

Out of all the scenarios he had ever imagined where there would come a time he had to lead a life without you being a part of it, this wasn't one of it. This was never one of them. Losing you like this was never one of them.

Being a scout meant there were no tomorrow's. You go out with the expectation of never coming back. And he knew that. Death was reality.

Yet. Wasn't that why he'd always been careful to stick around with you? Always making sure your gear was working, your straps were tightened, your swords were sharpened. Always looking for you first the moment the missions ended. Always the team he'd make Erwin pair him with. Because he thought as long as you were in his sight, as long as he was near enough to see you, you would be okay. He wouldn't let you die. All that for what if this is how it turned out?

Vaguely, he remembered his mother. Here he was again, after years. Nothing changed.

This was the one place his strength meant nothing. Nothing.

Him being humanity's strongest changed nothing.

“Fucking idiot.” He muttered quietly. “Don't even have the guts to say it to my face.”

He swallowed down the bitter taste in the back of his throat. What was he doing? Why was he talking to himself?

He felt angry. Angry at you. Angry because all you needed was to say it. To say it and he would've given up everything. He was angry at himself too. Who was he to condescend you when he was no better himself? When he never had the guts to say it as well?

At least you got to say your piece. Now he'll never get to.

“Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair. He felt restless. It was so fucking unfair. So, so fucking unfair. He had so much to say. So much he's never told you.

He never even got to say goodbye.

He sighed. Looked down to the bouquet. Then to his own surprise, he crouched down, laying the flowers gently on the stone surface.

“I hope you like them. They're all dead and shit now but,” He swallowed, his hands shaking.“Parting gift.”

His touch lingered, softly caressing the carvings of your name, tracing the familiar letters. His fingers shook when he reached the deathdate.

Finally, finally, it started to rain. First, a couple drops caressing his face, and then the sky was grieving with him, crashing onto this world and onto him. He was drenched in a second, his hair sticking to his forehead and his clothes sticking to his skin. He stood up, broken from his daze. He stuffed the envelope down the pocket of his jeans and hoped that was enough, but it was already half wet. The one last thing you'd left him and he couldn't even keep it in piece. He was well and truly an idiot.

He spared a glance at the sky. He wondered if it was the rain that made it all seem so black and white. Or maybe you had sucked the color out of this world when you passed.

He sighed. Does it matter anymore?

But he moved anyway, standing up and turning away.

He can't stay here forever.

He has to go back. Go back to the lifeless foul walls of the headquarters and his stuffy office. He had a shit ton of paperwork he needed to get done. He had to handle his squad. He had to prepare for next week's expedition. He had so much to do. So much to do.

He wondered vaguely how he was going to tell this to Hange.

But he continued walking, hands stuffed to his pocket, grabbing onto the letter. He doesn't look back.

Leaving half his heart on the stone where you lied beneathe.

[ssahotchnerr]

could we maybe get some momfriend!reader and jack dynamics, maybe from before her and Aaron were even together?

something special

<333 cw; fem!bau!reader, very tiny blood description (& yes i know you're supposed to wash a paper cut right away but for the sake of the setting and aaron being cute i didn't include that step 😭), mentions of haley, mutual pining

"whatcha drawing?" you asked mid-writing, your pen flying across your paper but still finding the opportunity to peek over.

"spiderman and superman." jack replied happily, switching from a red to a blue crayon. "see, they're teaming up to fight the bad guy because he keeps doin' crimes."

about an hour or so ago, jessica had dropped off jack at the bau. long story short; she was called into work urgently and with aaron in a meeting, you were quick to volunteer yourself to keep him company. rather than cramming into the small space of your desk, and jack potentially hearing conversations or details not fit for a six year old, you've made home in the roundtable room. you could work, jack could color.

you had also fired off a quick text to aaron; letting him know jack was with you, a brief synopsis of the situation and where he could find you both once his meeting concluded. it had, and he was about to join, but found himself pausing outside the door, listening to your easy, lighthearted conversation for just a moment.

when it came to you and jack, there was just something about it. something extraordinarily special.

"i see," you nodded along to jack's words, an encouraging smile on your face. "that's really good. since when did you become an artist?"

"since always." jack grinned proudly.

"then you have to promise you'll make me a drawing soon. my desk is pretty boring, i need something to brighten it up." you held out your pinky, eyebrows raised. "promise?"

"i promise." jack linked his pinky with yours, and turned back to his masterpiece with renewed vigor.

a sense of warmth filled aaron's chest, the ends of his lips turning upwards into a faint smile at the natural bond you and jack had developed so quickly, over the course of a few weeks. deciding it was as good a time as ever to join, aaron reached out to fully open the door when a wince-gasp came from jack, stopping him.

"oh no," your head turned. "paper cut?"

jack nodded meekly, grimacing as his gaze shifted to you. his big, sweet eyes were tearful, "it stings."

"can i see?" he offered his hand limply, hanging downwards at the wrist. you cradled his small hand in yours; it was just a tiny cut - no more than a few centimeters, a faint line of red gradually seeping to the surface.

"hm, well," you huffed a breath, turning his hand face-up face-down - vaguely exaggerating the examination. you got up to retrieve the first-aid kit stationed in the room, aaron sidestepping a bit to keep out of potential view. "i think luck was on your side today, i don't think we'll have to amputate this time." you spoke with an airy tone, quick to bring light to the situation. it worked, jack stifling a laugh as you retook your seat. "nothing a bandaid can't fix."

there was the click of kit opening, a slight shuffle of what sounded like paper.

"and don't tell anyone i told you this," you applied a bit of ointment onto the bandaid before wrapping it onto his finger - not too tight or too loose, all to avoid cutting off circulation and to let the wound breathe. "we gotta keep extra band aids around because your dad always seems to get one himself."

"dad gets paper cuts? really?" jack's eyes widened in surprise.

just as his son, a breathless chuckle exited aaron; that wasn't necessarily true, but your intentions were clear: cheering jack up.

in addition, the last time he had heard someone talking to or interacting with jack like this - empathetically, attentively, motherly, was, well... haley.

it touched the usually unattended part of his heart that had been vastly empty since the divorce. since that one, horrible day. while the emptiness still lingered, you had made a pull at it. for a moment, you had healed it, even.

again, there was just something special about you. and again, the only way aaron could describe it was extraordinary.

"really." you nodded convincingly, tossing the little plastic scraps into the nearby trash bin, giving top of jack's hand a consoling pat. "it happens all the time."

aaron mentally rolled his eyes at that, a smile itching at his lips.

jack picked up his brown crayon, pain forgotten, eager to get back to his drawing. "i'm gonna draw daddy and put a bandaid on him. he's a superhero too, y'know?"

"yeah," your smile was rather bashful, your tone of voice so admirable it caused a blush to rise in aaron's cheek. "i know."