#and then my brother gets involved like ‘please don’t involve her she’s so stressed’ like if she didn’t want to get involved then wHy would

[acotarxreader]

Swept Away

Cassian x Reader, Rhysand's sister

Synopsis: Cassian is growing desperate to make his feelings about you known but Rhysand is ever protective of his little sister.

Warnings: Silly, Angst, pining, blood, a creep in a bar, poor Azriel wing-manning like nobody's business, protective Cassian, overprotective Rhysand

A/N: A Cassian fic because it has been some time since he's been featured on the blog. I hope you guys enjoy this silly lil guy. Please forgive any mistakes in this, I wrote it while not feeling the best.

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Cassian stood at the edge of one of the Windhaven training rings, his two brothers sparring across the mud. To the untrained eye, they looked as though they were gonna kill one another but Cassian knew this was all just goofing around. He felt his heart vibrate off his ribcage, waiting for Rhysand to tire himself out enough that he wouldn’t chase and mangle him for the question he was going to ask. He counted through his breaths, forcing himself to focus on releasing the stress from his chest. They finally stopped their clashing, neither conceding but both ready for dinner, calling a truce as they bellowed out brotherly laughter. 

“Hey Cass, ready for the mixer tonight?” Rhysand wiped his sweaty brow with his forearm, gratefully taking the cup of water offered by Azriel. 

“Oh yeah yeah, very excited, have a good session?” he spoke quickly, eager to get the words out of him before he lost his nerve.

“Definitely, I feel on cloud 9 now”

“Good, good, soooo just letting you know-I’m-going-to-ask-YN-out-tonight-after-the-mixer-okay-bye!” Cassian vibrated out before spinning on his heel and moving to bolt away. 

“Oh fuck” Azriel whispered as Rhysand caught hold of Cassian's shoulder, turning him back to face him. In hindsight, maybe saying this to Rhysand when he was pumped full of testosterone wasn’t the correct call Cassain thought. 

“Sorry Cass, I think I hallucinated, what did you say?” “I’m going to ask YN out”

“No, you’re not” A laugh left Rhysand as he released his shoulder and loosened the belt of blades slung around him. 

“Why not?” Azriel inhaled a breath that sounded like “here we go” at Cassian's question. 

“She’s my sister, so she’s like your sister, it's like illegal or something” Cassian scoffed a laugh at Rhysand’s half-answer.

“Except the four of us aren’t actually siblings and the sentiment is nice and all but I’m not her brother, I want to ask her out, nothing creepy about it” Rhysand’s turn to laugh at Cassian, shoving him back lightly at the words and leaning down to loosen his training boots.

“Nah Cass, forget it, move on, I forbid it”

“You what?” he bit out in return, Azriel’s eyes darting between the two, this was going to turn into another savage argument, he could see it. 

“Right, let's leave it there-” Azriel tried but was almost immediately cut off by Rhysand.

“-Yeah, I forbid it. I don’t want things to get messy”

“They won’t, I think we would be- “-Forget it Cass, enough drama was caused with Mor-” Azriel took a sharp inhale at Rhysand’s low blow, the two males began to square up to one another just as you called from the sidelines. 

“Hey! Come on, start getting ready, have a bath before the smell poisons the flowers” you beamed, raising an eyebrow at Azriel at the weird energy. He just shook his head at you not to get involved. Your gaze separated the two males, both storming away to their quarters. 

“Fuckers always leave me to tidy up” Azriel signed, picking up the kit the three had used in training. 

—---------------------------------------------

The howling Winter wind ripped through the hills of the Illyrian mountains, coursing through Windhaven. You looked out through the living room window of the place you called home in this unforgiving climate.

“YN? Are you okay?” Your brother whispered from the front door as he shook off the biting snow. 

“I’m fine Rhys, how was the mixer?” 

“Unsurprisingly violent-” He laughed, a small smile growing on your face at the sound “-Are you sure you’re okay? You look as though you are going to run away” Rhysand laughed again to cover his rising worry.

“Nothing to concern yourself with Rhys, I’m going to just go read in my room” You tried your best to beam back in your usual way to him, rising from the window seat and wandering to your room down the hall. Rhysand questioned whether or not he should follow you, deciding to return to bed and inquire further in the morning.

You stared up at the ceiling, the clock yearning to strike midnight as you sighed. You quietly strapped on your shoes and sheathed yourself in your thickest jacket. You ever so gently lifted the sash window of your ground-level room and slipped out into the night, knowing your brother and mother would go feral with the knowledge of you going into the Illyrian camp unattended at night, despite your own strength. 

You moved through the shadows of the grey mountain stone buildings, dipping out of the sight of passing party-worn Illyrians until you found yourself wandering down the disused service lane heading in the direction of the closest village. The chill sent shapes of cold down your spine as you fought the feeling of watching wild eyes from the deep thick woods the lane cut through. Your wings clung tight to your back trying to draw any ounce of warmth possible. You stopped and stretched before launching into your routine jogging trailing along the outskirts of the busy village, a relaxed breath releasing the stress.

Swirled in your own deep thoughts, the sudden weight thrown into your side caught you entirely off guard as you instinctively screamed. A hand wrapped tightly around your jaw preventing further alarm from being raised in your desperate shouts.

The wooded path grew thicker and thicker the further you were hauled into the woods, worst-case scenarios dancing across your mind. The movement suddenly stopped as you felt the solid thud of the body of a tree meeting your back, you forced your eyes open to meet your perpetrator. 

“Boo”

“GODS! YOU FUCKING JERK CASSIAN!” You pushed Cassian backwards and almost off his feet while lashing him with your hands into his shoulder blades while he hunched over howling laughing. 

“Your face!” he managed between laughs, half choking.

“Don’t do that to me! I thought it was one of the trainee warriors trying to earn his stripes!”

“Don't even joke about that YN, I’d kill them where they stood” his suddenly serious tone cut through you before you smiled at him. Cassian seemingly remembered the fright he gave you, returning to his laughter as you both strolled back towards the path. 

“I’ll walk you back YN, protect you from-”

“-From psychopaths who might sweep me away into the woods?!” you cut across him, now both laughing into the freezing night. 

“Why are you out so late anyway? Your mother and Rhys would be very unhappy with you”

“I could say the same to you” You raised an eyebrow to the warrior.

“I had business, I care not to go further into it with a Lady” he faux bowed towards you, gaining an eye-roll from you.

“Seriously YNN, what’s with the twilight running?”

“Nothing really”

“Tell me or I’ll start singing” You gave a sceptical look towards your dear friend before he took a deep inhale and belted half a note of pure torture, your hand covering his mouth at the release of the crow song. 

“Okay okay!” You laughed, pulling back your hand “-I was actually… I was actually thinking of going home to Velaris” You admitted, ending the momentary comfortable silence that bounced off the ancient trees. Cassian pursed his lips in thought, trying his best to not show all his cards, a futile attempt. 

“This is why we can’t be together YNN, so hung up on the glitz and glamour of city life, can't appreciate the wild” 

“I’m pretty sure the reason we can't be together is that I don’t like you” Cassain put his hand to his chest feigning hurt, you scoffed at your long-time friend before continuing along the path.

“No more nightly running alone YN, seriously dangerous especially for precious cargo like a High Lord's daughter, someone might take you as their chance to prove themselves and then I’ll have to commit murder and I don’t like my leathers to get messy” he ran a hand through his hair as you fought the urge to shove him again. 

“Aw you think I’m precious” you sarcastically shot back

“The most precious thing we have in this dump” his sincere tone ringing through you.

“We'll leave here someday Cass, get on with our real lives”

“We?”

“Well yeah I'm going to need someone to carry my bags” you smirk and he nudges you across the snowy path.

“Can't leave my partner in crime behind me now can I?” His genuine smile of gratitude made you feel warm. He always did. No one could quite understand him like you. The subtle glow of the training camp in the far distance came into view and you sighed at the sight. 

“Come on Cass, come get a drink in the village, I don’t want to head back just yet” he nodded to your great idea as you looped your arm through his for warmth and sauntered back towards the village. 

—----------------------

The village bar was heaving with Fae, all deeply relying on the crutch of alcohol to soothe their woes. You attempted to play snooker with Cassian, well beyond the scope of your ability. After playing and losing a few rounds with him, you sat at the bar away from his ridicule, allowing him to play more challenging opponents.

You sat cross-legged on the bar stool absent-mindedly tracing circles along the rim of your glass of caramel colour liquor. A rough hand found its way to your thigh, snapping your attention to the wall-like Fae it belonged to. 

“He-y it's the Night’s se-xy daughteeer, hey baaaby” The slur of words matched the smothering stench of centuries of whiskey leaving his wrinkled mouth. 

“Um Hi” You pushed his hand down roughly before it returned just as quickly and much higher, now squeezing your thigh making you tense. The much older Fae came closer to your face, leaning and whispering drunken inappropriate schemes in your ear. You scoffed in utter disgust, shoving him completely back from you. 

“Hey Prin-cess, you don’t fucking do that! Come here!” He almost spat at you, roughly catching you by the waist and pulling you off the stool. His fingers buried into your skin and you found it difficult to slip out of his vice-grip-like hands.

A hand laid flat on his shoulder from behind as he grunted to being interrupted. He turned to meet Cassian fist straight into his glass jaw sending him cold to the floor. You found yourself gasping, no one else reacting in the busy bar used to Illyrian antics. 

“Cassian!”

“Come on, we’re going” he caught your wrist and pulled you from the bar, stepping over the creep's body as you were pulled along. You hurriedly slipped on your jacket, the freezing breeze of the night burning your skin as you were pulled into the baltic night.

“Cass, slow down, you're going to take my arm out of the socket” you groaned at the slight pain he was causing you as you found it difficult to keep up with his rapid pace back down the service lane. 

“Such a fucking asshole”

“I was handling it Cass!”

“Oh yeah YN, really looked like that” you huffed at his sarcasm, anger growing in both of you the further you got from the bar. 

“Get off my case fucking hell”

“He could have run off with you”

“So?! What does it even matter to you?! Seriously Cass, slow down, you're not racing a Naga!”

“It does matter to me! I don’t want some ancient creep all over you” Cassian continued his marching in front of you, your wrist firmly caught. 

“You're the same when any male talks to me! You’re worse than Rhys!” You were sick of it, sick of being treated like some wounded bird they needed to protect, the thought caused the anger to grow in Cassian.

“THAT'S BECAUSE I DON'T WANT ANY MALE TALKING TO YOU LIKE THAT!”

“WHY!? WHY THE FUCK DOES IT MATTER YOU!” Cassian suddenly dug his heels into the snow causing you to crash into the back of him giving you a bit of a fright. Cassian span around, releasing your wrist in exchange for your hips, your hands instinctively draping across his shoulders as he pulls you forward in the falling snow to meet your lips hungrily. The cold was leached from your bodies as you basked in the glow of one another. 

“Cass you just kissed me”

“I just kissed you” You both had shock painting your faces before locking eyes and reconnecting hungrily again. 

“If anyone touches you like that again I’ll kill them” You nodded quickly to his protective stern words, kissing him deeply again. 

“Ahem” Azriel’s voice separated you both as he stood with hands on his hips glaring at the two of you, clearly having just been out for his own run along the service lane. 

“Az-” He only raised a gloved hand to you. 

“I don’t want to know any of the goings on between you two, ever, it will make me an accessory to a murder when Rhysand finds out” You both nodded slowly in reply before Azriel dragged a hand down his face. 

“Now, the three of us are going to walk home and the three of us will never speak about this again” Azriel continued, gesturing with his arm for you to walk ahead. You looked from Cassian to the Shadowsinger who only raised an eyebrow, you sighed before following his direction and walking ahead of the two. 

“You’re a dead man Cass” Azriel whispered once you were out of earshot.

“I know” “What is with you and their family, next thing you’ll be sleeping with Rhysand’s mother” “How do you know that didn’t already happen” Cassian was fighting for his life to bring back an air of silliness to the night and Azriel happily obliged, shoving his smirking brother across the path. 

“This is different Az” he rejoined his side quickly. 

“I know, it’s always been different between you two, doesn’t mean your funeral will be any less of a sure thing” The Shadowsinger smirked.

—-----------------------

The next couple of weeks became like a full-time job for Azriel and he wasn’t sure exactly when he had interviewed for the job. He spent a large amount of his free time running interference for you and Cassian, distracting Rhysand to allow you both to steal away moments together. It was beginning to exhaust him not to mention sicken him that he spent so much time focusing on Cassian’s love life that he forgot his own. 

The four of you sat around the corner table of the very tavern that three months previously you had been pursued. Azriel sat next to Rhysand as if by chance but very much planned so that you and Cassian may sit next to each other. 

“So anyways we’ve been sleeping together for some time now but I think it’s time to cut her loose-” Rhysand beamed at the telling of his conquests while you fought the urge to roll your eyes at your brother's hypocrisy “-What about you Cass? Any lovely ladies on the go?” Rhysand innocently questioned before taking a deep drink.

“Ehh yeah I suppose you could say that” Your chin sank to your chest, attempting to bury the wide grin on your face. 

“Well go on, tell us about her” Rhysand pried, Azriel’s eyes trying to find anywhere else to look at other than the red on Cassian’s cheeks” “I don’t think-” “-Oh come on Cass, since when have you been coy about your conquests?”

“Cauldron boil me” Azriel whispered under his breath, your foot sharply meeting his shin.

“I just think I should keep that private” Cassian spoke over Azriels audible pain. “From me? I heard you tell Azriel that you never wanted to leave the bed with this mystery female, so how come I’m not privy to the information?” You took a deep swig at your brother's playful prying, wishing the ground to swallow you up.

“I just don’t think you’d want to hear about-” “-I clearly do, tell me, tell me about this so-called best sex you’ve ever had, how you make her c-” “-For all that is good and Gods given Rhysand please do not finish that sentence!” Azriel cut across quickly as you inhaled your drink, choking slightly. Cassian rapidly tapped your back as Azriel and Rhysand began to bicker. 

“Are you okay?” Cassian whispered to you, searching your greying face for colour as it flushed back to your cheeks. He took your hand softly under the table, his thumb sending soothing circles across your skin. You looked up to Cassian with your glassy eyes, a small smile growing on your face at the look of adoration you received. The two of you looked quickly then to the silence that leaked from the other side of the table. Rhysand looked between the two of you, his own face now looking like he had been the one starved of air. Azriel covered his eyes with a hand, trying to think of any way to come back from this and what was about to happen. The table fell to an almost unnerving silence as Rhysand processed in real time before an equally unnerving laugh left him. 

“Oh no no no no” he shook his head while laughing, you glancing worriedly to Cassian at your brother's seemingly newfound deliria. 

“Rhysand…” You tried but your brother just kept shaking his head while laughing. 

“Oh no no no no” His laugh only got louder, Azriel daring to look at the Son of Night from behind his hand. 

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start” Azriel whispered across the table to Cassian who looked bewildered at the reaction. Rhysand rolled up his sleeves, his laughing continuing as he took a deep drink from his tall glass. 

“Maybe 10 seconds” Azriel added, Cassian needing no further invitation to bolt away. He made it as far as the edge of the village before Rhysand came in hot from behind him, you and Azriel trailing desperately. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Rhysand bellowed, tackling Cassian to the ground as they rolled in the slush of the last snow of Winter. 

“Rhys stop!” You went to separate them, Azriel pulling you back to his side. 

“Just, just leave them go YNN” he sighed, knowing this was years in the making. The two warriors rolled, Rhysand attempting to deliver blows that Cassian blocked. 

“Rhys-I’m-sorry!” Cassian managed through dodges. 

“My sister!” 

“Yes! Your sister! But my love! I love her!” Cassian rasped out, Rhysand’s hand finding his brother's throat as he gained the upper hand from above him. Rhysand released an ounce of pressure he had on the Illyrian before shooting a glance at you, a clear look of horror on your face. Rhysand allowed all the air from his lungs go before standing again, Cassian attempted to stand, only to meet the floor again with a shove from the future High Lord. He stayed down, thinking that was the best port of call.

“YN, really?” “Really” You found your own confidence, striding over the Cassian to meet his side on your knees. 

“How long?” 

“Three…almost four months” You admitted to your brother, pulling bits of moss from Cassian’s hair. 

“Four months?! And no one had any idea?” Azriel averted his eyes at Rhysand’s questioning. 

“We just wanted to see if it was serious before stressing you out Rhys” Cassain ran a sleeve over his bloodied lip. 

“And this is-this is serious? You’re not just fucking around Cassian because I swear to the Gods I will-” “-This isn’t fucking around Rhys, I love her” Cassian interrupted Rhysand’s worry. He wandered in a small circle, arms behind his back as he tilted his chin to the stars once again, taking a deep breath of the changing seasonal air. 

“Okay” Rhysand finally rocked his head back down to look at the two of you. 

“Just to say Rhys, I don’t care if you are okay or not with this, I love Cassian too and I don’t care if you are okay with it-” “-YN” Cassian dragged out your name like a whining child who was trying to stop the class pet from reminding the teacher about a test. 

“But, thank you” You kissed the top of Cassian’s head, his lip stitching together from the blowout.

“Oh Gods don’t do that in front of me!” Rhysand looked to the sky, the two of you laughing up at him. 

“Oh please Rhys, that’s nothing, these two would make you sick” Azriel laughed before the smile completely fell from his face. 

“You knew?” Rhysand glared towards the Shadowsinger.

“I ehh-” “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start my friend” Cassian laughed up from the slush-turned mud. Azriel gave a panicked laugh before meeting Rhysand’s serious eyes. 

“He’s the one doing your sister!” “Az! Traitor” You chuckled, Rhysand still not removing his eyes from Azriel until he shot off into the woods, Rhysand hot on his heels. You helped Cassian to stand again before walking hand in hand in the direction of home, happy to have that weight off your chests and happier to hold one another's weight in your arms. 

--------------------------------------------

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Yuu’s Dad in Twisted Wonderland pt. 3

Pt.4

Books 3, 4, &5 were when your dad was stressing.

🦀: Why do Ace and Deuce have sea mushroom thingies on their heads? They-They made a deal with a boy so they can cheat their midterms, but everyone else but you cheated as well so they’re stuck in a contract of servitude? Yeah no, don’t get involved in their foolishness-oh, damn it! The cat has a sea mushroom too! Well, I guess we’ll find a way to fix it.

When all the shenanigans happen and Leona eventually turns Azul’s contracts into sand and he overblots, your dad is there to witness it.

🦀:Already five in the evening and the boy ain’t right.

He watches you and your friends beat Azul out of his overblot and watches the aftermath.

Safe to say, your father makes you stay away from Azul, Jade, and Floyd.

🦀: Hold on, where are you going and why do you have a basket?

🦐: I’m going mushroom picking with Jade.

🦀: Is Jade that one that always looks high and acts erratic?

🦐: No, that’s his twin brother, Floyd.

🦀: Either way, don’t go with him. He probably does shrooms.

Which leads you to Book 4

Your father does not like Kalim.

🦀: Hey! Hey! Hands off! You are way too touchy with my daughter!

☀️: But she’s my best friend!

🦀: You just met her five minutes ago.

🐍: Kalim, don’t go around hug tackling people you just met.

🦀: You keep him in check. I like that.

Your father becomes the “I like that” lady from the Simpsons.

🦀: “You run a tight ship. I like that.” “You keep the boys in check. I like that.” “You got some intelligence in you. I like that.”

Eventually Jamil overblots, and Jamil doesn’t even bother hypnotizing your father. He respects him that much. Which extends to Yuu.

🐍: So, what’s your world like?

You sneak away into the desert to find your friends. Your dad is at Scarabia small talking with Jamil.

Jamil will forever have an ego boost that your father respects him more than Kalim.

Afterwards, when the VDC start to loom over NRC, he’s not opposed to you joining(it’s his chance to get video of you dancing and singing).

That is until he finds out the team is staying in Ramshackle during the training period.

🦀: No! Absolutely not! You’re not having 7 boys living in this dorm with you! Especially that Kalim and Ace boy!

🦐: Dad! If we win we could use the money to renovate Ramshackle!

🦀:…..fine. But they’re staying downstairs.

Your father catches a glimpse of Rook’s photobook. He legit tries calling the police.

Boy shenanigans ensue

❤️: Man I’m beat from practice.

🦐:So am I. I’m taking a nap. Wanna join me?

And for once, Ace actually gets to sleep next to you in a bed. Then it gets ruined by everyone else but Vil joining in. It turned into a group nap on the bed.

Your father finds out and he’s not pleased.

🦀: GET OUT! And Yuu, we’re having a review of the puberty talk when it comes to boys.

When the VDC’s happen, he gets a recording of Yuu dancing and singing. Unfortunately that was ruined after the revelation that Vil tried to murder Neige.

🦀: Yuu, we’ve gotta kick these people out! One of them tried to kill someone. These boys are not right!

🦐: Dad! It’s all good! He’s back to normal now and we won the competition which means Ramshackle can be renovated!

🦀: I worry about you. I really do. I never should have let you read Having Adeline.

🦐: *gasp* They are perfectly good friends!

🦀: Oh, really? Riddle has anger issues, Cater is just Cater, Trey probably has a fetish for teeth, Deuce is too pugnacious, and Ace keeps trying to sneak into bed with you.

🦐: But-

🦀: Leona is a grown man who needs to get his life and inferiority complex together, Jack is…actually he’s ok. Ruggie’s such a con artist he would takeover Atlanta. Vil’s vain and murderous, Rook is a French stalker, Epel has masculinity issues. Ortho is a robot boy who’s too complicit in his brother’s shenanigans and Idia is an otaku creep who looks like he constantly needs a bath or else he’ll look like a zombie.

🦐: But-

🦀: Kalim’s too hands on with you, too oblivious to his surroundings, and has no boundaries, Jamil’s ok, something seems off with Lilia, Sebek is going to make you go deaf, Malleus is a creep and under no circumstances should you engage with him, and Silver is alright.

🦐: Why didn’t you mention Octavinelle?

🦀: Did I need to say anything about them to make them look bad?

🦐: No….no you did not.

[gladiatorcunt]

- DIRT IN CHAINS | X.

i can’t wait for the nights with you, i imagine the things we’ll do

cw: kinktober prompt (feet), semi crack treated seriously (he just comes back and says footjob. now.), pseudo incest (step brother & step sister), no shelly or chris 💀, set in the 90’s with brandon lee’s eric, small-ish age gap (reader’s in her early 20’s), fem ballerina!reader, random kurt cobain crush mention, implied inappropriate behavior when reader was 18 and after (nothing explicit but it could be seen as done with certain intent), attempted non con mention (not involving eric or reader)

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

Body of my body, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

If you serve a chunk of still bleeding meat to a gruesome stray dog, then that is love. If you toss a coin to a crow with a glint in its beady eyes, that too is love. Even when you scoff and grumble at the perceived inconvenience and continue your jaunt down the muddy alleyway. You are assuring an animal that you believe it deserves to have its hunger sated and tended to like a toothache. don’t be surprised when gangrene sets in around your ankles and wrists, bracelets made of red jade. They bite for the same reason that you sharpen their teeth and beaks with roadkill and gemstones. It is life’s greatest gift to ever be well fed, such neglect can open a void from which there is no escape. If only your heart could plug up the hole.

The most painful sentences in existence are hypotheticals that start with if. That's why this will be nothing of the sort, hunting season will be successful.

Your step brother Eric was shot about a month ago the night before halloween, and you’re coping by robotically moving through life as if it couldn’t happen to you too. It’s all too easy to succumb to the panic and the grief but you’ve never been wired that way, it’s safer for you to retreat into a cocoon of numbness.

You don’t want to think about where the woman he saved from being raped is, as happy as you are that she’s okay. Knowing any of that would only remind you of the knife Eric got thrown into his back before he was thrown from her apartment window. He lived in the same building and like the good guy your step brother was at heart, burst in the room with the best intentions.

His good deed got him killed, and all you’ve done is play his music on repeat as you rot in your bed. He’d want you to continue your ballet career, hell, he showed up to your recitals and performances more than your own mother. You always ignored how his presence made you feel simultaneously relaxed and confident but also so stressed you’d be worried about pissing yourself on the stage.

Wide smiles and long dark hair that glistened in the theater’s warm lightning, he would always be the one to stand up and whistle first.

Eric’s favorite ballet was your ballet company’s Swan Lake. He kept a picture of you as Odette in one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your parents had only been married 4 years, but you’ve changed a lot from the starry eyed 18 year old that mooned over your older step brother and tripped over your pointe shoes.

Your dad started teaching you how to play guitar before he left, when you were 5 and your chubby hands plucked at the wrong strings. Eric wouldn’t leave you alone when you told him the story, and spent an entire weekend getting you caught up on your missed lessons until you both had a swarm of blisters on your fingers.

Now you’ll never see him again, never get caught in the rain when you’ve begged him to drive you home and wish you could tuck a strand of his wet hair behind ear, never hump your pillow and muffle your sounds into your balled up fists because he’s staying in the next room and you have to be quiet.

You’ll never see him with his band again, caught in that weird space between a groupie and a supportive family member. He liked to embarrass you, make big shows out of looking directly at you and coming to the edge of the stage to poke your cheek. He’d ruffle your hair and your cheeks would be so hot, one wrong burst of electricity from the wires attached to their instruments and you’d go up in flames.

You never told your mom but you always wanted a brother, you should’ve known you weren’t gonna have him for very long.

Hangman’s Joke. God, you wish.

“Hey, peach, ya miss me?”

Hand on your heart you think you’re dreaming at first, but you’ve never really had any dreams where Eric was front and center. He haunts all your other ones, regular strange ones where you’re running around department stores and fucking Kurt Cobain but someintes he turns into your step brother, sometimes you fuck them both.

You shoot up in bed, the straps of your lavender silk nightie slip down your shoulders so you pull them back. It’s the middle of the night, and your vision is blurry, but when your eyes focus properly you see him standing in front of your bed.

It’s Eric, your brother, you don’t even care if there was a gas leak overnight that’s got you fucked up or if this reslly is a dream. You can’t pretend to be fine anymore if he’s right here in front of you, suddenly there’s an umbrella over your head in the pouring rain again.

“Eric, oh my god, what the fuck! How are you even- I mean- How the fuck are you alive?”

He sighs, tonguing his cheek and shaking his head. “I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise, ‘m tired, peach. Missed my girl, didn’t she miss me?”

It’s a little cruel because of course you have, but the dulcet tones lull you into nodding. You don’t want to cry, and you’re scared to reach out to touch him because of the chance that he might disappear. Eric’s haunted eyes soften, and he intertwines his bizarrely muddy fingers with yours. There’s warmth, and maybe it’s just your hummingbird heart but you feel a soft rhythmic thumping under his skin.

It’s different, slow as molasses, more like the chiming of a grandfather clock. But Jesus fucking Christ he’s real.

Your sham of a facade shatters as you bring your joined hands down to your breasts, forcing his knuckles to press into your sternum.

Eric pushes you back down on the bed, his knees dig into the mattress on either side of your hips. His stare is intense, dark and enticing as he reaches down to curl his hand around your calves.

“I used to be obsessed with uh, vampires, ain’t that a bitch?” He chuckles, massaging your ankles and staring off into space. “All that mysticism and unimaginable power and all I could focus on was the way they talked about their cravings. How they get hunger pangs like a normal fuckin’ and it’s bearable until it’s not, it consumes them like they’re boilin’ from the inside out.”

You suck in a breath, Eric’s eyes flick over to you immediately.

“Then I look at you and i’m right back in rehab, toes curlin’ at the thought of getting high again. I think I know how those bloodsuckers feel.”

“Eric- Don’t say that.” Your heart seizes up, but you keep yourself from falling off the ledge.

He kisses your ankle, his black lipstick leaving a stain as he leaves a trail of carnage up to your toes. His lips split wide on a fox’s smile, slipping his tongue in the crease between your toes and sucking each one clean, almost like he’s trying to eat your flesh off the bone. He nuzzles his nose into the sole and inhales deeply, taking in the dirt you didn’t wash off in the shower, the plastic hospital smell from your bath mat, your cherry almond scented body wash.

“Yes, all i fuckin’ need, right here.” He whispers, staring at you dead in your eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to taste the high arch of your foot as his hand caresses your still bruised toes. But they’re faded, you quit ballet a long time ago.

“You have pretty feet, y’know that? Always liked helping you lace up your slippers.” Eric laughs “You’d get so fussy about me doin’ them properly but you’d kiss my cheek after, all sweet on me.”

He lavishes every inch of both your feet with his tongue in broad strokes, making out with your toes because he can’t resist sucking them into his mouth one more time.

You moan, fisting your hands in your nightie, your step brother’s back from the afterlife apparently and the first thing he wants to do is get a footjob from his step sister.

Eric tucks his hair behind his ears so he doesn’t have to bother with it for right now, you can tell that this is like one of those moments on stage, he wants your full attention.

He’ll always have it.

You’re the one that pulls your feet out of his grip to slide them down to his crotch. You keep eye contact as you massage his clothed bulge with your toes, rubbing your heel into his balls and applying light pressure here and there.

You blink up at him, too innocent and too worn down by life already all at the same time, “Like that, big brother? Does that feel good?”

Eric grunts, wrapping his hands back around your ankles and pushing your feet further onto his cock.

“Yeah, peach, feels so fuckin’ good, holy shit. Just like that, keep doin’ me like that, baby.”

You bite your lip, nearly tearing through the skin in your efforts to make your newly risen step brother jizz in his ripped jeans. You wish you had psychic powers and had the foresight to know he was coming over, you would’ve put on those socks with the frilly edges and a red rose stitched on the white fabric.

But he’s so worked up from this already, he’s breathing heavily and rocking his hips forward to hump your feet. He’s grinding his teeth together, already so close to unraveling from how much of a little tease you’re being.

You hum and turn your right foot to ghost the edge of your toenail around the tip of his cock. He groans as he twitches and a bead of pre seeps through his clothes, you can trace the outline of his length so clearly you know he’s not wearing any underwear.

The look in his crazed eyes reminds you of all the times he’d take you to the attic of his loft, making up scary stories and playing guitar with you. When you turned 21 he surprised you with a cheesy golden heart shaped locket, with a picture of you two at your parent’s wedding, joking about how awkward you look with each other there. Eric’s penguin style suit and your agitated face that’s partially covered by gaudy turquoise puffy cap sleeves.

He chuckled and said that every time you look at it, you’ll feel nothing but happiness for what those two losers are about to experience.

Part of that experience is you curling your feet around his clothed cock while giving him just enough of a view of your hairy pussy, you forgot to put a pad on so there’s some blood trickling out of you that Eric is just so utterly enraptured by.

His groans are death rattles now, long and pain stricken, at some point he stops humping your feet and lets you worship him like this. Eric kneeling above you, drooling deep in the back of his throat at the sight of his baby sister caressing his painfully hard dick with her cute dancer’s feet.

Your mind is filled with all the pretty shoes you can put on and do this again, you just got a new camera as an early birthday present too.

“You can come if you promise not to leave again, Eric, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself this time.” You promise, digging the ball of your feet into his perineum.

“I crawled out of the earth back to you, didn’t I? Couldn’t let my sweet peach perform alone, she gets stage fright.”

He comes in his pants and you continue to gingerly move your feet along his length, soaking up the cum that wets your toes like a sunflower does sunlight at golden hour.

[redskull199987]

i have two so I'll probably send them separately, but at the same time I feel like that would be a lot of notifications (also fem reader please); #1 is giving mike schmidt head under his desk while he's at work and stuff , #2 is like playing with mike's hair and stuff to help him sleep and cuddling with him , and #3 is mike bending reader over his desk and going to down because he's had a pretty bad shift and needs to relieve stress. you can just do one or all, it's up to you

First of all, this is only one of these three requsts, the second one to be precise. The others will follow of course, don't worry. Until then, I hope that you enjoy this one. I had lots of fun writing this:D

So hear my Voice, remind you not to bleed

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:1.3k Warnings:tooth rotting fluff,kissing and hugging, that’s all, slight movie spoilers Summary:You knew that your Boyfriend had trouble falling asleep, so you did everything you could to help him find his way into sweet sweet dreamland…

Masterlist

You felt like shit. At least, that was the short version. And the longer one wasn't even that much longer. To put it simply, you had an awfully long week. And that was probably an underestimation. 

You fought murderous animatronics, a creepy dude in a bunny costume, a feral cupcake and after all that shit, you barely escaped with your life. And while you were fortunate and had only obtained a few minor scratches and bruises here and there, Mike had a few life threatening flesh wounds and Vannesa was lucky to be alive at all, after her father had stabbed her.

Your Bones ached and your head was pounding, as you finally made your way home. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just ask your Boss to give you a few days off because you had several Animatronic-induced wounds scattered over your body. Heck, you were happy you didn’t just lose your job after not showing up for three days in a row. 

All you could do was tell them that you got involved in a car accident and that you and your boyfriend had been in the hospital for a few days. Much to your favor, they believed you and the fact that Vanessa was still in the Hospital only backed up your little lie.

Your Mind was still racing, as you reached your little Home. It was already dark outside, as you stepped into the comfort of your Apartment. You saw Lights coming from the Living Room and the Sound of the TV slowly made its way into your Brain and pushed away the gruesome memories of the Pizza-Plex.

“Mike?”, You shouted into the darkness,”Abby? I’m Home.”

You didn’t receive an answer, so you quickly discarded your shoes and Jacket and walked into the Living Room. Only now, you noticed Abby sitting in front of the Sofa, drawing with her Crayons and listening to the sound of the TV.

“Hey Abbs.”, You smiled and leaned down to greet the little Girl. She practically beamed at you and gave you a small hug.

“Have You eaten yet? Where’s Mike?”, You quickly asked again as you rose back to your feet.

“Yes, we had Spaghetti with meatballs.”, Abby stated happily,”And Mike said he was tired and went to sleep already. He told me I could stay up for a little bit longer:”

“Okay then.”, You mumbled, gently running a hand through Abby’s Hair,”I’ll go join your Brother in Bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay Love?”

Abby nodded at you profusely before turning her focus back on the Half finished Drawing in front of her. You looked at her once more, before deciding to finally go see your Boyfriend in your shared bedroom. You knew that he was always tired. Even before you started dating. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

 But after recent events, his insomnia seemed to get severely worse. He could barely fall asleep anymore and even if he did, he’d be awake again a few hours later, jumping up with heavy breaths and a sweaty forehead. You always tried to comfort him and be there for him, but you still felt like you weren’t doing enough. Like, you should do more. But you didn’t know how.

With a sigh, You slowly pushed your bedroom door open. You were surprised as you realized that the lights were still on and Mike was sitting in the middle of the Bed, still fully dressed.

“Mike?”, You asked with furrowed brows,”Are You okay, my Love?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Only as you got closer and sat down next to him, he looked at you.

“S-Sorry, must’ve been lost in my thoughts again. I didn’t notice you coming in.”, Mike explained. His voice was raspy and tired. With a soft smile, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly:”It’s okay, don’t worry. You wanna go to sleep?”

Mike only gave you a nod and got up to change into his sleeping attire,which consisted of a Shirt and some sweatpants. You quickly followed him over to the wardrobe and before he could pull off his hoodie, you carefully hugged him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love You.”, you uttered against his skin. You could see how the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the shiver that went down his spine.

“I love you too.”, Mike answered, taking a hold of your hands and turning around in your embrace. For the first time today he gave you a smile. A lazy one, but you saw that it was genuine. You quickly leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, before you connected your lips with his in a tender kiss. You felt his hands wander to your waist and he pulled you closer. Warmth radiated off of his Body, while his lips worked against your own in passion.

As you finally parted due to the lack of oxygen, both Mike and you were panting against each other's lips. It was quiet for a few minutes and no one said anything, while the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

But then you reached for the hem of his hoodie and as Mike realized what your plan was, he obediently raised his arms, so that you could pull the hoodie off of his body. After you let the Hoodie fall to the Floor, Mike grabbed the Hem of your sweater and the two of you repeated the whole action, but with your roles reversed this time. 

It didn’t take long, until you were both in your sleeping attires after you lazily helped changing each other.

With a drowsy smile, You grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him back towards the bed. You had of course noticed that his expression wasn’t really the happiest, as he was afraid of having nightmares again. He had told you about them. It was always the same. He saw Abby, Vanessa or You getting stabbed by William Afton and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move or scream. He just had to witness it.

“Come here.”, You mumbled and held out your hand as you saw that Mike was hesitating to lay down. His gaze wandered from the sheets to your face and it seemed like the soft smile you gave him did the trick on him. He gently grabbed your hand and let himself be pulled down by you. As his head was laying comfortably in the crook of your neck and your hands were slowly brushing through his hair, Mike let out a deep sigh.

“It’s okay. I’m here with you, Mike.”, You mumbled into his ear. You felt how his arms slung around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I know.”, Mike muttered under his breath,”You’re here.”

He took a deep breath in again, before you finally felt his body relax against yours. You quickly grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the two of you.

“Just concentrate on my voice.”, you said, soothingly rubbing his back with one hand, while the other still brushed through his hair to calm him down,“Listen to my voice. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.”,

“You’re here with me.”, Mike repeated quietly. You only nodded and continued to mumble sweet nothings into his ear. And within Minutes, you felt his grip on you loosen ever so slightly, while his breath became more even.

With a soft smile, You kissed the crown of his head once more, before also letting your eyes fall shut. If Mike could sleep, you could sleep too. And if he woke up, You would wake up too, no matter what.

[suuuupernovaaa]

muntxa si

MUNTXA SI: (english) to mate with, marry

(Adult) Neteyam vehemently opposes his human mate becoming Na’vi, for fear of losing her.

This story makes many assumptions - just go with them to enjoy the ride.

2,247 words.

The strength with which Neteyam opposed the idea, right from the very start, was a shock to everyone who knew him. When his mother first mentioned it, she saw a familiar fury in his eyes, one she knew she’d worn many times. 

His brother nearly lost his head when he brought it up, and his father hadn’t even tried to broach the subject.

What he didn’t know was that they weren’t bringing it up of their own accord, though it was something they’d thought about before. They were bringing it up because I had brought it up to them first.

I was the only one who wasn’t shocked by his reaction. I knew that all Neteyam would see was the danger and risk involved, and there was nothing more detestable to Neteyam than putting me in harm’s way. This was a sometimes annoying but mostly reassuring trait of his, especially given that, as a human living on Pandora, danger was lurking around nearly every corner for me. Ewya had blessed me with a strong and capable - but slightly overbearing - protector.

After weeks of his family telling me it was me who would have to convince him, I finally plucked up the courage.

We sat in our Mauri pod, late at night, and the words spilled out of my mouth before I could fully control them.

“I want to become Na’vi. Norm has an Avatar for me, he’s been hiding it since I was little, and he told me on my 20th birthday. It’s fully mature now.”

Neteyam sat at the edge of our pod, his legs dangling over the edge and into the water, and he spun around so fast that his braids smacked the wall of the Mauri.

His eyes narrowed and he lowered his chin. “No.”

Taking a deep breath beneath my mask, I stood up. “You don’t get to decide for me, Teyam. I have decided, and I know the clan will support me.”

“No!” He was standing too now, towering over me at nearly twice my height, but he could never scare or intimate me, even if he truly tried.

“Listen to me, Neteyam. You are only thinking of the risk involved, and not the reward. I can’t survive here forever, as one of the last humans. What if the air tanks run out? How will we live our lives together, with me in this human body? Have you considered the fact that your lifespan is twice mine? What will you do when I am too old, even, to run and swim? I won’t live like that, Neteyam!”

I felt hot tears in my eyes, and tried to blink them away in frustration. “You can’t force me to live a half-life with you when a full life is within my grasp! I know Ewya will give this to me. She wouldn’t have brought me to you if she didn’t want us to be together.”

Neteyam’s hands rested on my shoulders, enveloping me, stressing to the both of us our impractical size difference.

“Y/N... you don’t know that she will give this to us. She may take you home to her.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the panic I could see in his face. 

“I have to do this, Neteyam. We won’t have a future together if I don’t. Norm and the others... they talk about having to leave, without a permanent colony here. Their supplies won’t last forever. They would either take me, or leave me here to die with no oxygen.”

Neteyam pulled me down, so we were sitting face to face, our legs crossed.

“I cannot lose you, Y/N.”

“This is our best chance, Neteyam. Please. Please let me do this.”

As much as I had been pretending it was only my choice, and I didn’t need his permission, I knew I couldn’t do it without his blessing. That just wasn’t something I could do to Ma Teyam. 

I watched his chest rise and fall with deep breaths as he contemplated.

“We will do this, Y/N, and if Ewya takes you, I will follow you to her myself and bring you back.”

-- 

It took time to plan - time that was exciting for all of us. We decided to fly back to the Tree of Souls to give my human body the best chance, since with the Metkayina, the ceremony would have to take place under water.

The Omatikaya welcomed the Sullys, and one sky person, back with open arms. After all, it wasn’t as if I was a stranger to them - I had many friends to greet, as well.

The ceremony was set for the night after our return. Neteyam was quiet at dinner, and his mother watched him cautiously.

“Son,” she said, handing him a plate, “I see the spirit within Y/N. It reminds me of your father - strong, stubborn, a little frustrating.” She smiled, but Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. “She will be okay.”

She gripped her son’s arm and he nodded, but the sinking feeling in his chest was there to stay, until the ceremony was complete.

--

Neteyam walked with me, hand and hand, through the large crowd there to witness my birth - or my funeral.

I could feel the tension radiating through his body, but no matter what I said, I wasn’t able to ease it for him. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, myself.

There she lay - me, but not me. Tall, with long, thick black hair and eyes that would surely be a piercing gold when opened. She was beautiful; it was the first I was seeing her.

“Oh, Neteyam...” I said, a lump in my throat, and gripped his arm tightly as we approached the tree.

He placed his hand over mine. “You can still change your mind,” he said, but with a sly smile, the first I’d seen him wear in a while - he knew there was little chance of that.

He lifted me up and placed me next to my new body, where the spiritual leader of the Omatikaya waited, a serene and focused look on her face.

She gestured for me to lay down, and I turned to Neteyam. Maybe it was the proximity to the Tree of Souls, but I felt a calm - and tried to convey it to Neteyam with a smile. His family stood behind him, taking their seats to join the ceremony. Neteyam would stay with me until it was done.

He nodded, and I could practically see his heart beating through his chest as he helped me to lay down, my head inches from my avatar’s.

“You will sleep now. Be calm,” a voice above me said, and I had only time to tell Neteyam I loved him before I sank away.

--

Watching her eyes close, a panic gripped Neteyam’s heart and he felt as if he could vomit in front of the entire clan.

He turned and sought his mother, and would have been embarrassed to do so in any other situation. She was seated between his brother and father, all holding hands with eyes closed, chanting to Ewya.

He watched as Ewya reached up, covering his mate in feather light touches, and he put his hands on her, praying to Ewya, reminding Ewya how much this human woman meant to him.

Silently, he told Ewya of the first time they’d met, at only six years old, and of their first kiss at 12, how she fought with him through the Great War despite her size, how long it took him to work up the courage to ask her to be his mate, and how they cried together when she said yes.

This woman is my life, Great Mother, he prayed, I ask that you return her to me in either body here, and we will make the most of this life we have together.

Every minute felt like an hour, and then the Tsahik reached over and pulled the mask off of his love’s face.

She was gone, at least from this form.

“She is passing through Ewya now, Neteyam, and you must guide her back,” the Tsahik said.

He leapt carefully over to her avatar body, taking it in for the first time. Those were her lips, the shape of her eyes, the sharp dip between her nose and mouth - all his favorite things about her, right here.

“Yawne,” he said, reaching out to touch her soft face, “can you hear me? Follow my voice. Come back to me so that we may return home together, and live the life you promised me.”

He looked to the Tsahik, who nodded in encouragement and resumed chanting. The cries of the clan rose around him, his father and mother’s the loudest, and he steadied his shaking body with a deep breath.

“Y/N, Yawne, hear my voice and follow it. I will wait for you forever - remember the promise I made. Do not deliver two souls to Ewya this day.”

He nearly shot back when the woman before him took a gasping breath, and amber eyes shot open.

--

It’s impossible to describe how it happens. It’s not a wordly experience, and there are no words to properly convey it.

Ewya is real, and she gave me a second chance at life.

Neteyam’s face hovered inches above mine as I gasped for air. He slipped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me up, and even in this new body, in my disoriented state, I was acutely aware that I was naked.

“Yawne,” Neteyam whispered, and I saw the tears spilling from his eyes. He only called me Yawne - beloved - once before, when he asked me to be his mate.

“Tiyawn,” I replied, my voice breathy and almost foreign to my ears. My ears! I reached up, trailing my hand over my thick hair and reaching up to feel the pointy, blue ears atop my head. A giggle escaped before I could stop it.

“Can you stand?” he asked, gripping my arms.

I leaned into him. “I am naked.”

“You are Na’vi now,” he replied with almost a shrug, “but I will carry you if it concerns you.”

“I think you should, my legs feel weak.”

They felt strong. My entire body felt strong, and I couldn’t wait to learn how to use it. 

I glanced over my shoulder to see myself. My former self. As Neteyam lifted me into his arms and stood up, I thought I should cry for her... but she didn’t feel like me, not anymore. 

The clan cheered and whooped, hollered and threw their arms triumphant in the air, as Neteyam stood with me and let out what sounded like a war cry, shaking me in his arms.

The joy in his face was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was beautiful, especially seen through these new eyes.

He rushed through the crowd, to his Ikran, and mounted in one fell swoop with me in his arms.

The Ikran felt so much smaller than she had when we’d arrived less than an hour ago, but of course, I was the one who had grown over three feet.

He took off, holding the saddle with one arm and me tightly in the other, to a place we could be alone.

--

Back at our temporary home, I was finally able to take a breath and try my new body out. For my first few steps, I had to hold Neteyam’s hands, until I got the hang of it.

I felt weak, but I knew that would wear off. This body was strong, and I was going to make it even stronger, so I could finally keep up with Neteyam.

The thought made me burst into tears as he searched through his mother’s things for something I could wear.

“What is it, Y/N? Do you hurt?” he asked, rushing to my side with only a necklace in his hands.

Embarrassed, I tried to wave him off, but he was too on edge. “Tell me, Yawne. Tell me what you need.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him tightly to me. My face rested perfectly on his chest, where before, it was just over his waist - making hugging an awkward feat. We fit perfectly together now, and it made me cry even harder.

“I’m just so happy and grateful, Neteyam.” I pulled back, wiping at my tears. “Tell me what you think.”

“What I think?” he asked, turning his head to the side.

“Of... me. Of my body. Do you still, I mean, do you like it?”

His gaze softened and he reached up to cup my cheek. “I have loved you for 15 years, Y/N. I loved you human form. Your small body, your beautiful soft hair, and your light eyes. I loved every moment of our life together.”

The tears threatened to return.

“But this... this is my dream, Y/N. I see it now, what you’ve always seen. You were meant to be one of The People, to be with me, to be the mother of my children and my mate for life.”

A smile spread across my new face so wide, I thought it might crack. “I love you, Neteyam.”

He pulled me into his strong arms, and we took a deep breath together.

“Forever,” he whispered in my ear.

I squeezed him tight. “Forever.”

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 2 - “Peter”

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Visions of a past life plague Felina as she recovers from burnout. Rhys seeks answers. Azriel comforts his mate as past-trauma comes crashing down on her. A former lover tracks her down.

Part 1 - El Paso Series Masterlist Part 3 - Vampire

warnings: past trauma, panic attack, references to sex, elements involving death, blood drinking, violence

Forgive me, Peter. My lost fearless leader.

“Quit fidgeting, Y/N.” Mother whispers as she runs a brush through my tangled hair.

Father is in Windhaven this week and I’ve been free to roam the skies as I please, whenever mother turns a blind eye. The arts district is vibrant with life and so often my family carries me out kicking and screaming. Well, aside from my brother who hides his amusement behind a mask of irreverence. He knows I love the rainbow.

Of course, Rhys has been gone on courtly business for weeks and I am dying to see him. My brother, the one person who truly understands me. Well, as much as one’s older brother can understand their sister.

I miss him.

“Sorry, mother.” I sigh. “I’m just excited to see my brother tomorrow on our travels.”

A pause of the brush strokes gliding through my hair shoots worry through me. I grit my teeth, bracing for her next words. “What is it?” I inquire, turning to see Mother’s lovely face downcast before her warm gaze meets mine. “He’s been held up and cannot travel with us tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I sigh. Hurt running through me. It’s not his fault, he’s busy and a far more benevolent leader than our father is a ruler, though he plays the game quite well.

An hour later as I lay in bed my heart races, my thoughts spiraling into the places I do my best to forget. The males of this court always let me down. Oh the perils of being the second born heir, younger than those surrounding me, female, and never taken seriously.

The goddess of timing, once found us beguiling.

A note appears at my bedside.

“Night’s truest bloom, there is no starlight without you. Won’t you cast thy gaze upon my room? Xx, Peter”

I smile at the flirtatious note, biting my lip. “You know I can’t but think of me as you bask in sunlight while mother and I trudge through the Illyrian forests tomorrow. Rhys bailed.”

“I don’t like that you’re traveling alone. Shall I come escort you?”

I blush at the thought of walking arm-in-arm with him. Gods, I’m so totally enamored. How did it end up like this?

“You High Fae, so territorial.” I write back.

“You are partly High Fae yourself, my lady. In fact, I’m pretty sure you offered to kill the last female who got too close for your liking.”

My stomach turns. I would. The female’s a lech.

“Semantics. I’ll see you when I get back. Dream filthy dreams of me.” I press a kiss to the letter and send it off.

“Only the filthiest, my sweet Felina.”

She said she was trying. Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did.

—————-

Felina

“Y/N?” A cautious voice stirs me from my dream. I wake to find myself in a very large bed, surrounded by luxurious blankets that likely cost twenty-fold the standard linens I’d become accustomed to - the ornate room around me more spacious than anywhere I could recall resting my head.

My body is sore, lethargic. I stretch my arms and - ouch - stiff as well.

“Take it, easy, okay? Your body was under a lot of stress.” I blink my bleary eyes to see Azriel’s concerned gaze fixed upon me.

My body feels weighed down from exhaustion but my heart, it feels heaviest of all - a feeling I’ve continued to carry since Azriel found me at the Inn. Shouldn’t I be happy to have a piece of my life in place? I have a mate - and from what I can recall, a damn good one as well.

I open my mouth to speak but his eyes go distant, a look I’m familiar with but trying to place.

An urgent knock intrudes upon the silence, a look of irritation crossing Azriel’s features before he mutters an apology to me. “He couldn’t wait for me to speak with you apparently.”

My gut clenches, dread overtaking it as the door opens. In walks a male with a face so familiar that my heart��s pace rushes. My brother, Rhys.

“Y/N.” He chokes out, love and longing written all over his beautiful face. “You’re home.”

The name. Y/N. So familiar and so foreign. I remember it now but Felina brings me comfort. “Felina, please call me Felina.” Pain flickers across his features before giving a subtle nod. “Okay, Felina.”

His eyes sparkle as tears form in his eyes. “How? How are you here? Where have you been?”

I reach a hand to touch his face, the scruff beneath itching my palm, his hand instantly finding it and leaning in. It feels so warm and familiar and yet, I yank my hand away like lightning. “I don’t know.” My breaths quicken. Flashes of centuries of lies and manipulation rush into my head and it’s all too much. I can’t process this. I can’t relive it.

My hands find my torso, wrapping myself tightly, I can’t catch my breath. The hot blur of tears fill my eyes as I screw them shut. “I’m sorry- I- I“ can’t finish the sentence as I heave, trying my best to even out my breathing and failing miserably. The inky feel of power seeps from my skin and I can’t process the male voices speaking beside me. My name; a cold, icy voice giving a command; a broken voice of night giving in to whatever was commanded as heavy footsteps pace away, and then -

Darkness. Warmth. A heartbeat in my ear. A brush of lips against my hair. Azriel.

I stay there, sobbing as the emotions crash into me like the surf to rocky shores. The pain doesn’t alleviate for what feels like an hour, the rhythm of my mate’s chest finally bringing me back to the present.

When my eyes open, Azriel is draped over me, wings cocooning protectively around my body, his heartbeat the steady constant in my ear. “I’ve got you.” He whispers. I give into his warmth and drift off again.

————————

Said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Lovers in a field. Brushed hands at balls. Green eyes meeting violet. Shared smiles.

Words from the mouths of babes

Tears cried into a broad shoulder. Whispers of “It’s not fair”, drunken chants of “fuck the cauldron!”, late nights and long dances beside reflections of starlight.

Promises oceans deep

Young lovers questioning eternity, the forces of fate. Letters signed with pen names.

But never to keep

————————-

“Brother, you need to sleep.” Rhysand stressed into Azriel’s mind.

The stubborn bastard had refused to leave Y/N’s side for the days she’d been unconscious. A huge part of Rhys beamed at that. Who was he to question the bonds forged by fate? Was Azriel being his sister’s mate ideal? In a sense, no. As an older brother, he’d always felt protective over her. But Y/N had always gravitated to Azriel, even as a child his shadows could calm her when she was fussy, his patient demeanor had always been a soothing balm to her inquisitive mind. He’d listen carefully as she pondered the great mysteries of life out loud long after the rest of the family had tuned her out.

“I’m fine.” Azriel’s conscious growled in return.

He sure as hell didn’t sound it.

“Let me send darkness to soothe her, just long enough for you to eat and get some sun.”

A pause and then the mirthful reply of “Is it an order?”

Maintaining composure the High Lord replied, “Is it necessary for me to do so?”

Ten minutes later, Azriel appeared at the bottom of the stairs, the light of the foyer emphasizing his hallowed eyes and drained skin. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Azriel muttered.

Rhys knew he sounded like a prick but it was true. “How about you go sun your wings in the garden?”

The energy of the room shifted as Azriel’s eyes rolled, caught between humor and bitterness as he reminded his brother for the fifth time that week of the current circumstances. “Despite your good intentions, you seem to forget that prolonged exposure to the sun is exactly what I do not need.”

“Shit! I am never going to get used to this.” Rhys placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Fine, sit. Amren brought a fresh blood supply this morning. She says it’s goat from Sevenda’s but she was in a mood, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the blood of whatever poor souls had the nerve to cross her path on the way here.”

Azriel wanted to grin at the attempted humor but didn’t have it in him. What a strange turn of the tables, Amren no longer the bloodthirsty one.

The males sat in silence, Azriel nursing the goblet of blood Nuala had kindly brought in to him. Soft footsteps padded into the space, a familiar floral scent wafting through the room, as Elain entered.

“Oh.” the middle Archeron sister gasped. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She gave a wary smile, sad eyes falling on Azriel before flicking back to Rhys.

“Not interrupting, Elain. What do you have there?” Rhys glanced to a piece of paper in her clutched in her grasp. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she spoke too quickly, her pulse fluttering. “Writing secret love letters, Elain?”

She shook her head, glancing to Azriel once again. It grated Rhys to know the recent history, or whatever it was, that transpired between Azriel and Elain. With his sister being thrown into the mix now, he was battling that instinct to protect her at all costs.

Elain blushed a soft shade of pink, nearly matching that of her pastel dress. One hand grasping the delicate wrist of the opposite. “I’ve been writing to Lucien.”

“Ah, and how is dear Little Lucien?” Rhys raised an eyebrow, lip quirking upward.

“He’s fine.” Her words were clipped. “I have to go now. Cerridwen is waiting for me in the gardens. We’re planting a new variant of night-blooming jasmine.” She gave a nod and scurried from the room.

Azriel’s lips remained in a firm line as Rhys nursed the whiskey he’d poured himself.

Months ago, her words would have hurt, sliced like a dagger at Azriel’s own lack of a bond. Now, well, he still felt jaded toward Rhys for the solstice that he essentially banned him from pursuing a relationship with Elain. But- it worked for the best. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than his own mate, his Y/N, his Felina - as she insisted she be called.

Guilt tugged at him, he should be up with her, not downstairs. What if she needed him? What if she woke with a night terror and he wasn’t there?

“She’s fine, brother.” Rhys broke him from his thoughts. “Your shadows will alert you the moment she wakes, and I have darkness soothing her.”

Shaking his head, Azriel rested his face in his own palms as if he’d rub his face hard enough and all concerns would fade away.

Finally, he looked up. “How do you do it, Rhys? How do you stay away when there are so many questions that need answered?”

Sitting his glass down onto a coaster, Rhys leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “I know she is in good hands. You brought her back to me. And I know, a mate can help her right now far more than an older brother.”

The thought warmed the icy chill that had settled into Azriel’s bones, he reveled in the moment before replying. “There’s so much we don’t know- So much we need to know.”

“You’re the spymaster, Az, and she’s your mate. I know you need answers. And gods, don’t think for a moment that I don’t want answers too. It takes every ounce of will not to just dive in to see what I can find, but…. It’s her story to tell. And, when I send my darkness to soother her, her shields, there’s something about them that my own darkness recoils from.”

Digesting the words, Azriel took another swig from his goblet. “I need to go back upstairs.”

Rhys only gave a knowing nod.

—————————

Love’s never lost when perspective is earned

Dreams shifted from young love and light to pain and darkness plague my sleep state with visions of bloodshed on pristine snow. Brutal hands of power-hungry males. Sharpened blades. A mother’s scream. Shredded wings falling to the earth.

Lost to the Lost Boys chapter of your life

And then, warm hands and a familiar face. Love and terror in emerald eyes. Strong arms carrying a broken body. Cries of “Please just hold on for me.”

A promise of “Stay right here. I’m getting help.” The back of a lupine creature running toward the distance.

Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold on.

The effort of holding on is growing too hard. My head slumps as blood trickles from my wingless back. An unheard plea of “Peter!” falls from frozen lips.

Then there is darkness. Void. Impending death.

A cold, pale hand chills my skin. A cruel, beautiful face promises eternity. Unfamiliar arms drag me away and I do not fight.

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light.

———————————

Azriel

Azriel had finally settled in beside a sleeping Felina, resisting the urge to take her in his arms and never let go.

His shadows alerted him to the breach in the wards first, shock running through him at the intrusion. Apparating to the entryway, he found Rhys at the front door, baring his teeth at the intruder, waves of night rolling off of him in a way that would send most running.

Icy rage shot through Azriel’s veins at the audacity of the male to show up at their door. The urge first, ask questions later pulling him toward the intruder. His lunged was interrupted by a sharp inhale behind him behind, diverting him from his war path.

His mate had walked down the stairs, her first time out of bed since arriving to the River House. Her slim form trembled, those otherworldly eyes swirling with emotions he couldn’t comprehend.

“Peter.” She whispered through rapid breaths. Azriel ran to her, bracing an arm around her back to steady her uneven footing as she climbed down the grand staircase.

The blonde male fell to his knees, his tears falling ricocheting off the marble floors.

Azriel has no time to ponder the incorrect name she’d used, focusing on her steps, observing the sight before him. He’d only ever seen the male solemn or filled with rage. Never this.

And Felina, there was no fear or hate in her eyes, no wariness, as she took in the male. No, the only emotion he could now read was one his heart wasn’t prepared to face.

So, Azriel watched as his mate’s eyes lined with tears, her slow steps increasing and filling with purpose as she reached the entryway, stepping out of his brace and flinging herself into the arms of the High Lord of the Spring Court.

—————————

Tamlin

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer?

He didn’t believe it when Lucien wrote to him sending word that Elain mentioned that Y/N was in Velaris. That she was alive. There was no way and getting his hopes up would kill him.

How many nights had he spent plagued by the memories of the day it all came crashing down? The ruination of a beautiful friendship, of a love forged from two kindred souls damned by fate, and the role he played in it.

They were both so jaded at an early age, he and Y/N. And for whatever reason he couldn’t fathom, the princess of night found the youngest heir of spring to be worthy of her presence. She was everything and he was just, a lost male. Everyone wanted her time but she wanted his, and so began the affair of sneaking off at parties, stolen kisses under starry nights, long rolls in soft grasses, love notes written with pen names.

He was Peter, the lost boy forced to grow up too soon - who wanted nothing more than a life of music and poetry but doomed to strengthen ties to Hybern, to be married off like seed stock to a mate that he hated, Hybern’s wicked general.

And Felina, feline, curious and sleek as a cat. She’d been heartbroken by a one-sided mating bond, by a mate who only saw her as the child she once was, a mate too busy pining over her cousin to notice the gem he had right in front of him.

They’d found comfort and peace with eachother, two young adults who could be whomever they wished in their stolen moments.

They were careful to avoid being caught. So careful, until the day he snuck off to watch as she traveled through the Illyrian forests with her mother, that instinct to protect those he cared for surfacing at such an early age. He thought he’d lost her forever. He’d tried so desperately to save her. By the time he returned with a healer, she had disappeared. To this day, Felina had been his greatest loss.

And moments ago when her cry called into his mind, “Peter!”. There was nothing that could hold him back from her, no wards too strong, no distance too far to winnow. There was only he and his need to see her for himself.

And now, here she was in his arms. Repeating over and over how sorry she was for not holding on, for not having faith that he’d return.

All he could choke out was, “Felina.”

We both did the best we could do, underneath the same moon in different galaxies.

—————————��———

Tags:

General ACOTAR: @lilah-asteria

Series tag list: @saltedcoffeescotch @julesofvolterra @glittervame @nocasdatsgay

SPOILER FOR THIS STORY (in case you need to know who is end game) : click here

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt

Your best friend has warned you to stay far, far away from her younger brother — infamous party boy, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish. However, when she asks you to be her maid of honor in her wedding, you and Johnny end up closer than you ever expected.

Soap x Reader AU

Link to AO3

JUNE

You shouldered your backpack as you waited in the aisle of the train, sleep-deprived and hungry. When Hamish had called you to let you in on his little surprise, your heart had leapt in your chest for your best friend, Brigette MacTavish. She and Hamish had been together for nearly two years, and he had finally worked up the nerve to pop the question.

Brigette thought Hamish was just coming over for a Sunday roast, but you were showing up as the red herring. While she was distracted and fussing over you, Hamish could quietly panic until dinner was served, and you could take the pictures. You were glad to help him, you really were, and the MacTavish cottage was only an hour outside of Glasgow, so you didn’t mind, but your work had been exhausting lately, and your body ached for your own bed.

You hailed a cab on the app and waited in the cool night air for your ride to arrive. It was a cold one, and your Floridian bones weren’t used to it yet, even after five years of graduate school at the University of Glasgow. You were a Shakespeare scholar, and you loved every moment. It was just more demanding than ever, and you could barely meet the deadlines as it was. Now, you had a wedding to help plan, and you were torn between excitement and stress.

A clean Saab pulled into the gravel lot of the train station, and a cheery old man popped his head out,

“Where to, lass?”

The cabbie smelled like coffee and smoke as you climbed inside. You handed him a slip of paper with her house number on it,

“Old Kilpatrick, please. Here’s the address.”

A quick ride and you were dropped off at your destination, eager to see Ham and Pidge. Brigette hated her nickname, but it had stuck to her like glue. Her younger brother, Johnny MacTavish, had given it to her ever since he was a little boy, unable to fully form the proper sounds until it was too late. Pidge caught on like wildfire, and there was no escape.

Johnny was famous for making trouble around these parts. You’d never met the man, but you’d probably slept in his room more often than he had in the past year. When you stayed over with Pidge, you slept in his bed and wore his old, soft Rangers football tees. But, Johnny was a sergeant in the SAS, and he never took leave. When he did have to come home, his sister would complain about him staying in strangers’ beds instead of his own. She’d warned you from the start,

“Don’t look my wee brother in the eye, or he’ll hypnotize you like he does to every lass who comes within six feet of him.”

Pidge called Johnny a playboy, a womanizer, and a lush. She smacked him on the back of his head when he came home with another hickey on his neck, and by the time he went back to his deployment, Brigette said she had to chase the women out of the front garden like stray cats looking for their Tom.

“Promise me you won’t touch Johnny boy without gloves and a hazmat suit.”

You’d always promised you wouldn’t get involved with her brother. It seemed like an easy enough promise to keep with a man who was never home. His photos were few and far between, but it was obvious there wasn’t a girl north or south of Hadrian’s wide wall who would turn him down. Johnny’s boyish grin, his striking blue eyes, and his devilish mohawk made for a terrifying triple threat. Combine that with the body of a Spartan warrior and he was a sure weapon. Lucky for you, you were certain he’d never even look your way.

You knocked on the MacTavishes’ door and waited for her to crack it open for you. When she did, she looked astonished, but she wasted no time in hugging you around the neck and squealing with delight.

“What are you doing here, babe? I thought Hamish was takin’ the piss when he said you were on your way, haverin’ on about settin’ three plates for dinner. Come in! Come in, ya dafty. Give us your bags. Go on. I’ll put ya up in Johnny’s room,” she shooed you into the parlor and yanked the backpack from you, strong as hell for her small size.

You found Hamish in the kitchen, minding the potatoes, testing them with a fork to see if they were done.

“Hammy! Show it to me right this second, or else,” you laughed, whispering as low as you could.

His wide, bright smile was framed by his full, dark brown lips, and his deep skin gleamed. He was glowing like a virgin, and just about as nervous as one.

“Okay, but quick as you can,” he tugged the ring from his pocket and showed it to you.

Hamish’s hands trembled, and you clutched his palm in yours, shaking your head

“It’s beautiful. She’s going to love it.”

He smiled at you with joy and gratitude, but as soon as you heard Pidge coming down the stairs, he pocketed the ring as fast as he could, turning back to the food, nervously stirring potatoes that didn’t need to be stirred.

You poured a generous glass of wine for you and your hosts, making sure Brigette was distracted until dinner was served. You caught up on all the latest gossip. Pidge was the primary source for the juiciest news. As a librarian, people from all over would come to tell her things that they probably shouldn’t have told anyone, ever. And when a new romance novel came out, Pidge had the scoop on just how spicy it was. A five alarm fire on Pidge’s scale was a hard score to achieve, but the books that earned it, really fucking earned it.

“…and apparently, while she was out with Pink Shoes’ mister, the Skateboard Dad was out with Pink Shoes! Can you believe it?”

All of her gossipers had codenames. She was mindful about privacy, but you’d been hearing about these people’s dirty laundry for so long, it felt like you knew them well enough to come around for Christmas dinner.

“Here we are, ladies,” Hamish set down your heaping plate and slowly sat in his chair, looking like he’d seen a ghost between the oven and the fridge. You smiled at him, sending the strongest vibes you could with your smile, praying for him to hold it together.

He didn’t.

“Actually,” the noise of his chair scooting back away from the table was grating and a bit of a shock, but when he paused, it was dead silent. He continued, “Brigette, babe, I just…I want to say that, um, I don’t…uh…”

Pidge looked concerned. Her bright blue eyes gleamed as she gazed at her tall, dark, and handsome boyfriend. She dropped her fork and turned to face him, giving him her full attention. He was a full professor of biology and very rarely was he inarticulate. She checked on him,

“What is it, darling? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, grabbing her hands in his, bending down on one knee so he could be eye-level with her,

“Brigette. It’s quite obvious to me that I can’t live another moment without you. Please, say you’ll marry me before I come apart like a total idiot.”

“Hamish! What?” She was beaming, but still a little confused and shocked by his proposal.

You were catching the entire moment on your phone, trying to keep your hand from shaking with excitement as you did so, holding in your joy. Hamish pulled the ring from his pocket and Brigette gasped, all of the air left her lungs in a shaky sigh, and she began to sob. It was the most picturesque response, and you couldn’t have been happier for her.

After she had hugged him around the neck a hundred times, gasping and laughing as he told her his secrets and showed her your texts, she threw herself into your arms. Her hair was soft in the way that a girl’s hair was supposed to be, and you wondered if yours would ever feel that way. She smelled like the sun and old books, warm and nostalgic.

“God! I cannae believe you kept this from me! You’ve got the worst poker face. I never thought you’d be able to stand it,” she pinched your arm, gently teasing you.

“I know,” you admitted, “It wasn’t easy. Hamish had to talk me down from the ledge more than once.”

“Well, you’ll be my maid of honor, of course!” She squealed, pausing for a moment, remembering how busy you were, “Right, babe?”

You nodded, already thinking about the sleepless nights and missed deadlines,

“Of course!”

Hamish took your plates after you were done eating, and his warm voice boomed from the kitchen,

“This calls for champagne, right, ladies?”

He received two very loud “yes” shouts in agreement. You drank and talked until it was well past midnight, and with a goodnight hug, you sent the lovebirds to bed.

In your room (his room), you dug through Johnny’s old tee shirt drawer. You loved staying with Pidge, because her brother had the softest tee shirts in the world. Sleeping in them was like a buttery, smooth, transcendent experience and you were glad he wasn’t around to stop you from wearing them. You’d be mortified if he found out, but he was off in some terror-filled Green Zone, and these big, glorious tees were just languishing here unused.

You quickly spotted your favorite. It was a blue Rangers shirt made to look like a jersey with the name McCoist on the back. You clutched it to your chest, inhaling the smell of oranges and clove, mixed with some other human scent you couldn’t quite place. The sheets smelled just like it, too. You kept forgetting to ask Pidge what detergent she used.

The shirts he had in his old dresser were so big on you, you imagined he must have been tall his whole life, and wide. You never wore anything underneath, savoring the sensations of the fabric all over your body and reveling in it. You threw your hair into a high bun and padded back into the kitchen to get a warm cup of sleepytime tea before calling it a night.

You put the kettle on and opened the cabinet to reach for your favorite tea box, stretching up so that the shirt barely skated across the edge of your ass cheeks.

Then, you heard a low wolf whistle. Your heart stopped beating. You turned around as slowly as you could, paralyzed.

There was a man looming in the foyer in black riot gear, hoisting two huge rucksacks over his shoulder, staring right at you. You gasped, wanting to scream but no sound was coming out.

He stepped toward you. His eyes were blue, just like Brigette’s, but he was so very tall. His muscles were huge, bursting from his sleeveless tank and stretching out of his gear vest. Covered in guns and canisters and ammunition of all kinds, he looked absolutely terrifying. On his head, he had a shaggy, grown-out mohawk, laying flat and unstyled. His eyes were blackened with soot. When he glared at you, you thought you might melt to the floor in fear, until he opened his mouth,

“You’re a pretty little thief, you are. Better gimme back my favorite shirt, hen, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Johnny?” You hoped beyond measure that you had matched old photos to this new, dangerously handsome face.

He halted his approach, his features softening immediately, reminding you of the pictures of him you had a habit of studying in the hallway.

“Yeah…who are you, lass?”

You told him your name, and he nodded,

“Ah, Pidge won’t shut up about you. What are you doin’ here a’ this hour? I just got in from my tour. Got a note from Hammie that it was urgent.”

Johnny dropped his bags and came closer to join you in the kitchen. The soft light from the stove cast delicate shadows over his bright eyes and golden skin. He looked like a dream. He reached toward you and you flinched. A low, sarcastic chuckle resonated in his chest,

“Easy. Just keepin’ the kettle from keenin’.”

Studying you like an explorer in a new land, his eyes watched your every move, as if trying to memorize your skin like a map. He moved the steaming pot to a cold burner and you watched as the white hissing clouds died back down. You decided to break the ice, smiling knowingly at him,

“Good to finally meet you, Johnny. I’ve heard…so much about you.”

He took your hand in his and shook it once, dropping it and grabbing his own tea bag from the cabinet, plopping yours and his in their respective cups. It was an easy reach for him, and he grinned,

“It’s all lies. So, what’s the craic? What was so urgent?”

“Hamish proposed,” you said, watching his mouth fall open in shock.

“You’re takin’ the piss.”

“No, it’s true. Look,” you showed him the video.

The way his eyes gleamed, full of emotion, as he watched his sister agree to Hamish’s proposal was breathtaking. Surely this was not the same Johnny famous for accidentally inviting his two flings to the same Christmas dinner. He didn’t seem like the type.

Then, the sergeant leaned in closer to you, situating his enormous shoulder behind yours, getting a closer look at your screen, and you could smell him. That familiar, delicious, earthy citrus made you fall apart. It was nearly edible, and the fact that it emanated from such an attractive man made it that much more intense. No wonder he had women crawling all over him. The thoughts that invaded your mind made you blush.

His smile was back, and you never wanted it to leave,

“Tha’s fuckin’ brilliant. She’s asleep?”

He didn’t wait for your answer. Treading off down the hall, he knocked on Brigette’s door. You couldn’t see them, but you heard her answer it, the wood was creaking and popping from age and weight.

“Johnny boy? Is that you, you fuckin’ numpty!? Brother,” your friend’s voice was muffled as if she was crushed to his wide chest, “I’m getting married.”

“Let’s see it, then, Pidge.”

There was a span of silence, and then you heard him say in a low tone, unaware that his voice was carrying down the hall,

“You put a fit lassie in my shirt as a part of the occasion, or…?”

The sound of a slap on a heavy body reverberated along the wall, then a dark warning,

“You. Will. Not -“

“I dinnae ken what you’re abusin’ me for, Pigeon! I’m a saint!”

“Johnathan Fergus Euan MacTavish, she’s off-limits! You’ll not lay a hand on that girl’s pretty wee head, or I swear on Mother Mary and all the actual fuckin’ saints…”

“No promises, Pidge. If she wasn’t such a smoke show, you might have had a dog in the fight, but a gorgeous wee hen making tea in my kitchen wearing my fuckin’ shirt; it’s enough to make a lad start sinnin’.”

“Start! Tell me when you stopped. Is she out there? Oh, fuckin’ hell, you arsehole.”

You heard footsteps. You spun around and pretended to fuss with the tea.

“Babe! You met Johnny?” Pidge looked red in the face, and Johnny looked redder.

“Yeah, just came home. Showed him the video,” you shrugged.

“Great, this is just great,” Pidge forced a smile onto her face, and you got the sense that this was anything but great.

After not a small amount of insisting, you ended up in his bed and he slept on the sofa. So, when you awoke in the morning to the heavy weight of a body sinking into the mattress, you jolted up, thinking that he’d come to start sinning with you and you’d have to somehow find the inner strength to fight him off. Pidge would kill you both. Based on her reaction last night, you knew it in your bones.

But, he wasn’t even looking at you. He was sitting on the edge, digging in the side table for his phone charger. He tugged on the jumble of wires and acted surprised when you groaned out a quiet,

“G’Morning…”

“Ah, hey, lass. Sorry to wake you. Goin’ down to the shops for coffees. I always -”

“You bring them to Pidge your first morning back, I know. She told me,” you smiled and then smiled wider when he looked overjoyed with your knowledge of his fraternal lore.

“Pidge mentioned that?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, she loves it.”

He looked…healed, somehow, like you’d added space into his heart.

“Well, you’re part of the tradition now, so what’s your order?”

“Really?”

He rolled his eyes, feigning impatience. You laughed and answered him,

“Chai latte, please. Let me give you some money, hang on…”

You started to dig below the bed to find your bag, but he was already walking out the door,

“Back in two shakes, bonnie.”

As the door clicked closed, you lay in the man’s bed, in his room, in his house, in his shirt, and you wondered what exactly you’d gotten yourself into. It had been all fine and proper when he was just a cute face in a picture frame, but now that you could feel his heat and see his eyes looking at you, and hear that warm voice - and gods, his scent…

“Shit,” you said to nobody and everybody at the same time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 02

[for-ships-that-never-sail]

Okay Y'ALL I saw Episode 5 today and these are the thoughts I jotted down while watching it (PART 2 OF 2)

Please don’t read below the cut if you are avoiding spoilers until you get to watch it yourself 

And FYI some of these may not have any context, but I guess it won’t matter cause you’ll have context in 7ish hours anyway (also sorry about how long all my thoughts and feelings are lol)

Awh Kate you’re so pretty - kinda weird to see her so chill though - she was so stressed all of season 2 that seeing her so serene is throwing me off tbh - I am so happy for you though my love

Also her outfit that looks like a sari is soooo gorgeous I WANTTTT

Love the cinnamon biscuits vs fruit jellies bit

Portia ma'am please listen to Varley FFS

lol I hope they did in fact fuck again like she wanted

Ugly crying at MY MESSSSSS

PARIS? oufff I love how comfortable she is, just casual teasing chit chats with bestie

“Undefended”? Charlotte needs a different hobby pleaseeee

LOLLLLL when did Penelope learn to do her hair and makeup by herself???? Cause there’s no fucking way she would’ve looked THAT fucking good after alllll of that lol

We were going to be KNIGHTS!! OMG sweet babiessss

“as much as I do” I can’t even blame anyone for anything they’ve done or said so far tbh 

This is such nuanced writing — I understand exactly where pretty much everyone is coming from and that’s really nice tbh 

Omg they really do want Cressida to marry a dinosaur 

WTF Cressida you do you girl fuck shit up for Penelope I don’t even care do whatever you have to do and go all out and save yourself cause no one else will I’m so sorry you were ever put in this position  

We have been acting uncouth AS OF LATE??? as of late????!? Omggg Portia girl pleaseeeee you had ONE job and you’re just gonna pass the buck to your daughters instead? STAHP own up to your shit cause you knowwww they bully her because youuu bullied her and the gall to say this is just happening LATELY on top lmao 

Though like in her eyes I always do see remorse too - I think she just lacks courage to ever really own up to everything in full because she’s just so guarded 

Honestly this is such stellar acting 

And also like, Penelope, most of you is your mom my girl - your brains, your overthinking, your inability to just say Yuh I done fucked up my bad lol 

Greg’s hat

Yesssss lord Kent find you some Bridgerton besties 

I actually do love Portia - yeah she’s been a colossal dick of a mom to Pen but as complex women go, I get her - If she makes amends with Pen for them daily microaggressions and general abuse one day, for real for real, she’d be really great 

Omg Mama B and Lady D are such big shippers - wish they didn’t fully cut out the Lady D stuff from the books though le sigh 

Eloise has a point - I agree - she had lotsss of alone time to say it - I understand Pens fear completely, but she must realize that her saying this is still soooo much better than him having to find out on his own - and there is no way he wouldn't - and he’d be more hurt by that part than the actual LW part I think and honestly Eloise is right about her being involved in that painful deception too, I wouldn’t want my own brother to feel betrayed by me like that either, given how often he wished LW ill out loud - and the longer Pen stays quiet the more guilty Eloise becomes as a sister too - If anything her not immediately snitching makes her moreee team Pen than team Colin - this is still a lowkey loyalty to Pen for sure - I think I may have issued this same ultimatum under these conditions too

Omggg JOHNNNNNN stop he’s having a panic attack why did Fran put him on the spot like thissss????

“As you rightly mocked me last season” lolllll

Awh Colin and the toast 

Eloise should nottttt have done her second toast - now THAT part was uncalled for, but I guess they want to keep the stress levels high 

Lmao Kate to the rescue 

I loveeeee how close they are sitting in public - but like… does nooooo one else see this??? Hips glued together? Hands holding??? Just out in the open?? No one thinks this is insanely intimate for a newly engaged couple of the ton??? Even if it’s a love match? None of the older women are clocking this and saying 1. Sit the fuck apart 2. Did yall fuck already cause yall look like you fucked and we don’t even have a wedding date set yet??? Are you not going to even ask for a special license?? You just want her to pop a baby before she technically should and cause more drama?? Like who is in charge of all these fools?? Mama B what is you doing??? Do you not think Colin is being a nasty girl with his wife-to-be?? lol

Lol Anthony I love you, you competitive lil bitch 

Lmaooooo Eloise and Penelope being the smartest bitches of the ton YESSSS

Portia trying to show where Pen's brain comes from lol

Muddy boots panic again 

LMFAOOOOOOO Mama B your face is going a mile a minute right now listening to the muddy boots

"I saw straight away" OH MY FROHN you will end me one day

Pen get your shit together pls grab a brown paper bag or smthn 

Oooohhhhh fuck I get itttttt

Cressida girl my bad I get ittttttt sooooo much more - I didn’t fully understand her thought process behind what we already knew she was gonna do until just nowwww - they really set it up for her well - girl needed an exit and everyone fully offered her one - I have no issues with this at all tbh 

Omg omg this is the most chaotic midnight strike of all time like 6 different things happened at the same time???? 

Well that was some good old fashioned Bridgerton CHAOS Hope y'all enjoyed it too!!!! LESS THAN 8 HOURS TO GOOOOOOOOOO

[here4kpopfics]

Feeling in Chaos - Fall pt. 2 | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader  

Genre: drama, angst, smut

AU: art college!au, friends to lovers, best friend’s brother

Wordcount: 12,670

Summary: It’s time to talk about it. 

Rating: M / 18+ 

Warnings: Language. Grief. Panic attacks. MC has PTSD and is learning how to get through it. Jealousy. Self-loathing. Ryujin’s trying. Koo’s going through something. Possibly problematic friendship/relationship. 

Smut Warnings: None, just mentions of the smut in the previous chapter. 

AN: Ah, so…surprise? Over two months later…This chapter has a lot going on. A lot of much needed conversations and finally some attempts to move forward. I have nothing further to add, except for my apologies for it being late. 😅Thank you to the soulmate @playmetheclassics for beta reading. ily

Banner and Divider by @classicscreations

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When you finally get to the club, you glance around to ensure Ryujin isn’t outside. You walk to the front of the line and get the security guard’s attention.

“I’m sorry, my friend is in there, she’s drunk, and I just need to get her out and take her home. Is there any way I can just go in and grab her?” 

The tall buff man that could honestly give The Rock a run for his money shakes his head. 

“Sorry, miss. I’ve heard that line one too many times. You’ll have to wait in line with the others.” 

“Please? She’s grieving, and I just. I need to get her home before she does something she regrets.” 

He only shakes his head again and points towards the back of the line. You sigh, grabbing your phone and calling her again. She answers, but you can barely hear her over the thumping bass. 

“Ry? I’m outside. They won’t let me in. Come out, and we can go home.” 

“Wha? Where are yo—?”

Her voice cuts off as the call ends. You groan in annoyance, getting in the stupid long line to get in the shitty building. 

The sense of panic sets in again as you wait. How do you get her home? What do you say? Do you let her speak? Do you wait until she’s sober to talk? Or do you yell at her now and hope she remembers? How the fuck are you going to get her home? Yoongi was right. But, fuck, you can’t get him involved in this. You’ve already gotten too close to him tonight. You can’t do it anymore. 

You go to your contacts, pressing the call button and hating yourself already. It only rings twice before he picks up. 

“Y/n? Are you okay? Are you still at the studio?” Your heart cracks at the voice laced with worry. 

“No, Jungkook. I left already.”

“Where are you? Because you’re not at your apartment.”

“Have you been waiting there?” Your voice falters. The image of him waiting in your apartment while you’re on the couch in your studio getting fucked and almost confessed to by your group therapy buddy flashing in your mind makes you want to scream. 

He stays silent, answering your question without saying a word. 

“Kookie…I need your help.” You exhale a shaky breath, trying to stay focused. 

“What happened? Did he do something?” There’s a certain bite in his voice that feels like an attack on you, but you set it aside, planning on stressing over it later. 

“No, Koo. He didn’t do anything. It’s Ry. She’s at this club or bar or whatever, she’s shitfaced and called me, and I’m waiting outside, but I…I don’t know how to get her home.” 

He gives it a moment after your voice trails off, finally speaking again after a while. 

“You want me to come get you two?” His voice is softer, but still tense, and you hate it. 

“Yes, please…” you quietly admit, and you can hear the sound of his keys moving as he tells you to send the address via text and to wait for him. 

This feels too familiar.

“Jungkook?” You quickly speak up before he hangs up. 

“Yes, y/n?”

“Please drive carefully.” you feel your stomach twist, “get here safely, okay?” 

He doesn’t need to ask why you’re saying these things. He knows. You know he knows. He reassures you he’ll be okay, hanging up only when you’re ready, and you look back down at your phone as the call ends. 

Five minutes later, you’re almost at the front of the line when you see Ryujin stumbling out of the building, looking around in confusion. 

“Ry!” You shout as you finally escape the line, much to the satisfaction of the people behind you. You want to run to her, but she’s still a ticking time bomb, and you’re already on edge enough that you don’t want to risk her wrath even if she was the one that called you.

“Y/n!” She shouts back, tears streaming down her face as she runs to you. You let her hug you first, hesitantly hugging her back and only tightening your hold when she starts sobbing against your shoulder. 

“Hey hey hey, I’m here. It’s okay, Ry. What happened?” You don’t expect an answer and don’t let go, just letting her desperately hold onto you and cry. 

When she finally lets go of you, you guide her to sit on the curb. It’s gross, but it’s away from the club goers passing by, and it’s still within sight of the security guard. Your hands never leave her, one on her back and the other gripping one of hers like if you let go, she’d vanish from you too. 

You stay silent for her, watching her battle with the thoughts in her head and the words behind her ruby-red lips. You look away, down the street to see if Jungkook’s car would be in view, but you wanted to give her more space.

“I don’t blame you.” Her voice cracks, and your neck almost snaps when turning back to her. 

“What?” You’re afraid to ask in case it all goes wrong. 

“For…for Kai’s death. I don’t blame you. I never did.” Her grip on your hand tightens, and the tears fall again across her beautiful face. “I know it’s not your fault. But I just…I needed someone to hate, someone that isn’t me.”

Her? Why? Why would she…?

“Ry, what do you mean someone that isn’t you?” 

She finally looks up at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she relives memories you have no idea about. Moments she wishes she could forget or do over. 

“It doesn't matter now.” She shakes her head, holding your hand close to her chest. “Please, y/n. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You’re my best friend and there’s no excuse for the things I said. Please don’t hate me. I can’t lose you, too.”

You look at your best friend. The girl that was born a day before you in the same hospital. The girl that asked to draw with you on the playground. The girl that yelled at anyone and everyone that dared say anything bad about you. The girl that held you as you cried over your first heartbreak. And your second, third, fourth… 

The girl that, despite coming across as perfect to the world, bared her soul, fears, and insecurities to you one night after sneaking into her parents’ liquor cabinet. The girl that promised to be by your side for forever when your parents said you’d be nothing. The girl you watched fall in love with your brother, having the most beautiful and loving relationship with him. 

The girl who fell apart just as badly as you did. But instead of seeking help, she burned the world around her down, starting with you. 

Her name quietly escapes your lips, but before you can say anything else, Jungkook pulls up against the curb next to you. He quickly exits the car to squat down in front of you both, eyes meeting yours briefly before turning his attention to his sister. 

He looks exhausted. 

“Hey, Rybread. You okay?” He gently grabs her free hand, bringing her attention away from you and to him instead. She nods, a broken sob escaping when Jungkook helps her stand, you having to stand with her because her hand is still tightly gripping yours. 

“Let’s get you two home, yeah?” He gently speaks to only her, still refusing to look at you for more than a second. You carefully pull your hand away from Ryujin, watching Jungkook help his sister enter the backseat. When she’s finally in, seatbelt on, head leaning back, eyes closed, he looks back at you. 

You hate the sadness in those big beautiful brown eyes. Hate the dark bags forming underneath them. Hate that you’re probably the cause of some of it. 

“Are you okay to sit in the backseat or do you need to be upfront?” His question is as monotone as he can make it, but you can still pick up on the notes of concern in his words.

You open your mouth to speak, eyes glancing between the backseat and the passenger’s seat, when Jungkook shuts Ryujin’s door a little harsher than necessary, causing you both to jump. 

“Upfront it is. Come on.” He mumbles, opening the passenger’s side door before returning to  the driver’s seat with a huff. 

You get in only when he’s put his seatbelt on and turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. You put your seatbelt on, backpack across your lap and fingers toying with the straps for a moment before a big hand reaches for your left hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours, settling on his lap, his free hand on the steering wheel, effortlessly pulling away from the curb and driving off. 

Your eyes stay on the road, trying to watch every car while simultaneously trying to remind yourself to breathe. At every stop light, Jungkook brings your joined hand to his chest, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand until the light turns green and you’re past the intersection. 

You say nothing, forcing the fear deep down inside to deal with when you’re alone. Your right hand grips the door handle like you’re bracing for impact, and it takes everything in you not to scream to pull over. The last time you were in a car was on the way home from the funeral. You were so ready to jump out of the car on the highway, actually opening the door at one point, not caring what happened to you, only about getting out.

“You need to breathe, y/n.” His voice is gentle but still in that monotone voice. It doesn’t match the way his thumb is soothing over your hand or how tightly he’s holding it. 

You hadn’t realized you were barely taking any breaths, afraid if you did, you’d scream or cry. You still don’t respond, only squeezing his hand in response as you take a deep breath, shakingly exhaling after. 

“I’m trying. It’s just—” you look down for a moment, your free hand playing with the zipper on your back, “I’m too focused on not panicking. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” His voice is losing the monotone effect, and you sneak a glance at his face. His jaw is clenched, and he looks anything but soft, more stoic instead. 

“I don’t know…I’m sure there’s a list of shit I need to apologize for that’s so long, I wouldn’t even know where to start.” 

“The top, usually.” He’s quick to respond, and you have to fight the urge to give even the smallest smile. 

“The top…the top says ‘I’m sorry you met me and got dragged into this.’”

“Well, that’s a stupid apology.” He says after a moment. “You didn’t know what would happen when we were kids. If you did, I’d have many questions. One being lottery numbers.”

You quietly laugh to yourself. Eyes jumping from the roads, to your hand in his, and his face that still won’t look at you. You’re partially relieved he’s keeping his eyes on the road. 

“And I’m not sorry I met you. You’re insanely frustrating at times. You drive me to be a jealous mess of hopelessness plagued by unrequited love. But I’m not sorry I met you. Not even a little bit. I’d rather have you in my life than out of it.” 

You stare at him, lips parting with no words able to form. He’s confessed in various ways so many times now, and it feels like a punch in the gut every time. This time, however, feels more like a stab to the heart. 

“…it’s not hopeless, Jungkook.” You swallow thickly, looking away from him and focusing on his hand wrapped around your own instead. “And it’s not unrequited…”

“Feels a lot like it…”

You say nothing, the car stopping in the apartment complex. 

You barely even registered the rest of the drive home once he started talking. Your breathing was steadied, your heart rate was racing, albeit for a different reason, and you weren’t trying to escape the car. 

Jungkook gets out first, walking around to get to Ryujin sitting behind you. You quietly get out, watching him try to coax her awake, eventually giving up and handing you the keys before scooping her out of the car. 

You lock the car when he’s got her, following behind inside to the elevator and to the apartment, neither speaking except for random gibberish from your tipsy sleeping best friend. 

He sits her down on the counter in the bathroom while you grab her a change of clothes. He leaves the both of you alone so you can help her remove her makeup and do your best to take her through her beauty routine. She'd always go on about how she could never miss a day, walking you through each step for moments like this. 

What feels like ages later, you finally emerge from the bathroom, letting her change in private, and head back down to the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the armrest of the couch with palms running across his face while you lean against the wall. 

The atmosphere is awkward. You don’t know what to say, so you pull out your phone, remembering your spat with Yoongi. 

Y/N (3:35 am): hey. I’m home. I hope you made it back okay. I’m really sorry about what I said. You didn’t deserve that. 

You hit send and watch as it switches from delivered to read within seconds. The typing bubbles appear moments later. 

Yoongi (3:35 am): Apologize with pie. 

A shaky giggle escapes your lungs before you can catch it, and Jungkook scoffs. 

Your head snaps up to the sound, wide eyes and body frozen. He shakes his head, eyes cast to the floor. You lower your gaze back to the phone, trying to decide what to type next when he finally speaks to you. 

“So why didn’t Yoongi come with you to get Ry?” You look back up at him; he’s still trying to stay neutral, a stoic demeanor that doesn’t care. 

“Koo–” 

“I mean, it’s kind of a dick move to let a woman walk alone at this hour, isn’t it?” He crosses his arms, repositioning his stance as if he’s uncomfortable. 

“I didn’t want him to come with me. He insisted but I yelled at him…” you sigh, briefly looking back at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “I didn’t want him to get involved in all of this.” you gesture all around you, mostly towards Ryujin’s door and Jungkook himself. 

He stares you down, tilting his head to the side and even though he’s not directly in front of you or right next to you, his stare makes you feel small. It feels suffocating - like he’s hovering above you and you’re backed into a corner. 

His eyes scan your face, your bruised lips, the very light, barely there yet hickies on your neck as well as the guilty expression. His eyes widen, and the stoic demeanor is gone, replaced by one you can’t quite read, but know all too well.  

“It’s not just sex, is it? There are feelings there.” His question knocks the wind out of you, and you shrink down even more. 

“I don’t know.” the only response you can bring yourself to say that won’t hurt either of you.

You were wrong. 

“What do you mean you don’t know? Either you like him, or you don’t.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Ryujin’s door opens just as you do. She stands at the top of the stairs in the pajamas you picked out, and she looks exhausted, eyes swollen and puffy from crying. You rip your attention away from her brother when she mumbles your name. 

You rush to grab her hand, bringing her back to her room and guiding her to her bed. She gets in, but the tears start streaming again. 

“He’s really gone…” she whispers, pulling the covers to her chin. 

You nod, Jungkook comes in after you with water and pills for her to take. Ryujin shakes her head. 

“No. The smell. He’s gone. I could sleep because I could smell him in the sheets. Now it’s gone.”

This is the longest she’s spoken to you since before the crash. And you’re still scared of her reaction to your responses. So you tell her to wait, going back to her bathroom and forcing yourself to open the cabinet he took over when he kept staying the night, finding the little bottle you were hoping to find. 

You were secretly hoping to break into her room one day to find the bottle and keep it for yourself. But you kept reminding yourself she probably needed it more. 

When you come back, you tell her to give you her pillow, and she obliges. You take the cap off the cologne bottle, spraying the pillow lightly as it dangles in your hand away from you. You hand it back to her, smiling a little when she hugs it, taking a deep breath. 

“It smells like him…” she murmurs, laying back down, pillow resting under her head. 

“I know it’s not the same, but hopefully it helps enough.” You whisper, lightly petting her hair as her eyes close and a small smile forms.

“We should buy it in bulk. So it can always smell like him.” you let out a shaky laugh.

“I’ll get right on that, Ry. Now get some sleep, okay?” 

“Okay.”

You get up to leave the room, Jungkook starting to lead the way when a small hand wraps around your wrist. You turn to look at Ryujin who looks panicked.

“Y/n, you forgive me, right?”

You open your mouth to respond but, for what feels like the millionth time tonight, are cut off before you can form words.

“You do, right? You know I didn’t mean any of it. I would never. Please. Please say you forgive me.”

You say nothing, looking to Jungkook for help. He stands at the doorway, hands in his hoodie’s pocket, seemingly uninterested in this conversation. You sigh, turning back to her, gently grabbing the hand attached to your wrist to peel her off you, but her grip tightens.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re sober, Ry, okay? Get some sleep.”

“No. Not until you forgive me.”

“Ry.” your voice shakes, a piercing pain in your eyes as you can feel the tears forming.

“Y/n, please,”

“I…–”

“Ryujin, stop.” Jungkook interjects, both you and his sister looking towards the owner of the stern voice.

“Let her go. Go to bed. She’ll talk to you about it when you’re sober.” 

You both stay silent, your eyes glued to her grip on your wrist, hers bouncing between you, her brother, and her hold on you. After a few moments, she finally lets go, laying back down and hugging her pillow.

“Okay. Tomorrow…” she whispers in defeat.

“Tomorrow.” you mimic the word, pulling her blanket back over her to keep her warm before finally shuffling out of the room, walking past Jungkook, who closes the door once you’re both out. 

You run your fingers through your hair, steadying your breathing, so you don’t cry in front of Jungkook more than you already have. 

You both lean against the back of the couch this time. Both are dead silent as you figure out who should speak first. Your eyes cast down to the floor, watching his feet shift as he tries to find a more comfortable stance.

“You shouldn’t forgive her.” You look up at him to see he was doing the same thing as you, eyes to the ground. 

“What?”

“You shouldn’t forgive Ryujin.”

“Jungkook. She…she didn’t mean it—”

“No, y/n. Have you not heard the shit she’s been screaming at you? Have you not heard the shit she’s accused you of?” He turns to face you, his voice a harsh whisper. 

“Do you not remember how fucking terrible she’s made your life the last two months? You’ve had to fucking sneak into your apartment, change your schedules to be the opposite of hers, so you don’t run into her.”

“I…” your words stumble over one another in your mind.

“She’s my best friend, Jungkook. She’s grieving. I��her world just got crushed. What do you expect me to do? Just sever all ties with her and leave? Leave her to be all by herself? And what about you? You’re her brother, Jungkook. If I do that with her, I do that with you. And I’m not going to do that. Not with the two people that mean more than anything to me.”

Fuck not again. Please don’t cry again. 

“I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow. I won’t forgive her until I know she means it. I’m so fucking tired right now, so can we please just end this conversation?” 

The words rush out in a few short breaths, tears still threatening to escape when you look at him. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. His facial expression holds many different emotions. His eyes are sad, angry, desperate, and scared. 

“Fine.”

You fucked up again. Twice in one night. Way to go, y/n, you idiot. 

“I’ll head home. Good luck.” He turns away from you, but before you can think it through, your hand grabs his wrist like his sister did to you moments ago. 

“It…it’s almost three in the morning. Just stay here.”

You’re both staring at his wrist, captured by your fingers, and in the quiet, you give a small squeeze, pleading. But his next words feel like a direct stab to the heart. 

“Is your boyfriend gonna be okay with that?” 

“He’s not…”

“Please stop lying to me. Just admit there’s something there so I can try to move on, like really try.” 

No. 

Don’t move on. 

You’re mine. 

I won’t let you go. 

“Koo…” the name barely falls from your lips. “I can’t.” 

In the blink of an eye, he’s trapped you between his body and the back of the couch. Both hands, yours still clutching his wrist, cup your face and tilting you to look up at him. 

“You can’t be honest with me? Or you can’t admit there’s something there with him?” 

You close your eyes to prevent the tears, but they win, escaping down your cheeks only to be caught and wiped away by his thumbs. 

Your name is a soft pleading whisper on his lips, making you want to crawl into a cave forever. You can only say the first thing that comes to your mind. 

“Please…just stay.” 

You feel his forehead press against yours, noses touching, lips mere inches away from his. 

Just do it. Lean forward. His lips are right there. Just give in. You know it’s always going to be him. 

Do it.

But you don’t, and neither does he, instead breathing out a heavy sigh, pulling away from you, and unwrapping your grip from his wrist. 

“I can’t be your second anymore, y/n.” 

“You’re not.” Just say it. Admit it. Fucking do it.

“I am, though. If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t hesitate. You wouldn’t look at me with all that fear in your eyes. Tell me, do you hesitate with him?”

You don’t respond, trying to find the best answer.

“Your silence is so loud, y/n.” He backs away from you, heading upstairs to your room to grab the extra blankets and pillows you’d usually have on standby for when he’d stay over. He walks back into the living room, ignoring your hurt expression.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and be out before you wake up.”

“Jungkook…” 

“Stop, y/n. Just…end it there, okay?” you want to run to him, kiss him, tell him he’s number one. He will always be number one. Yoongi is nothing compared to him. You should. You should move your feet right now.

But you don’t. 

You hesitate.

And instead, he sets up the bedding on the couch before looking at you again.

“Goodnight.” He turns off the living room light, covering the area in complete darkness as he lays down on the couch. 

You sniffle, muttering a quiet apology before slinking away to the stairs to your room. Once the door is closed, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, screaming internally. You allow yourself five seconds to cry before opening your eyes and staring off into space in an attempt to silence the voices and the pain. 

It doesn’t. 

They just get louder.

You force yourself into your bathroom to turn on the shower. You watch yourself in the mirror as you slowly shed your clothing, piece by piece, like you’re removing everything that happened today with every fabric. Once you’re in your bra and underwear, you look back in the mirror at the bites and handprints on your hips where Yoongi had gripped you tight at one point. 

The painting of the music notes on your thigh. 

You feel sick. 

You quickly shed the bra and underwear, throwing them in the trash before showering. You grab your body wash, squeezing out more than needed onto your loofah and scrubbing away at your skin. 

You cry out in pain, not realizing you’re scrubbing yourself raw, trying to get the feeling of Yoongi off your skin. Anywhere he touched, breathed, or kissed suddenly felt like acid, and you needed it off you. You stay in the scalding hot shower for thirty minutes, trying to get him off your skin and out of your hair, muttering curse words the entire time. 

When you finally leave the shower, you feel like you are running on autopilot. You change into some clean pajamas, dry your hair, and drag yourself through a quick skin routine, playing some music on your AirPods while doing so. 

You sit on your bed, staring at your closed bedroom door. You want to open it and get on the couch with him, cuddle with him like you used to, tell him it’s always him, and just be with him in every way you can.

Stop hesitating.

You throw the blankets off you, forcing yourself out of bed and padding over to the bedroom door, opening it confidently and heading down the stairs.

But you stop halfway.

Your body stills as you listen to him lightly snoring, and you flash to a few weeks ago when he confessed to having trouble sleeping. He wouldn’t say why, he wouldn’t say if it was related to Kai, and he didn’t go any further in his explanation other than it’s hard for him to sleep lately.

So you back away from the doorway, leaving the door open, and crawl back in bed. You won’t be why he can’t get back to sleep just because you need him. 

An hour later, you wake up to someone crying. You sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the tears you assume you’re shedding. But there’s nothing there. No tears, just a puffy and tired face. 

You listen closer. It can’t be Ryujin. Her door is closed, and she’s out cold. It’s shockingly not you, which means it’s only one other person. 

Jungkook?

You throw the blankets off of you, quietly rushing down the stairs and peaking into the living room. He’s on the couch, still asleep but sniffling and whimpering. 

You tip-toe over to him as he lays there in his sleep, tears escaping closed eyes and body shaking in fear.

Is this what he was talking about?

Is this every night?

Why didn’t he say anything?

“Jungkook?” You try whispering his name, but he doesn’t respond. You try again, a little louder, and place a hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake. 

Gently, being the keyword. 

It apparently wasn’t.

Jungkook wakes up terrified, smacking your hand away from him and cowering back into the couch in fear. 

“Koo, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s y/n. I’m sorry. I’m so sor—.” 

You’re pulled into a hug before you can finish apologizing, one hand grabbing your arm to pull you to him, the other wrapping around your shoulders. You instinctively crawl onto the couch, curling up with him as he buries his face in your neck, tears streaming down his cheeks as he hyperventilates in your arms. 

You hold him as close as you can, your legs wrapped  around him, acting as a weighted blanket. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” You whisper against his temple, wincing a little when the hand gripping your arm finds your back, grasping your shirt. His nails dig into the skin on the back of your neck. 

You give him a few more minutes to panic in your arms before easing his face away from your neck, cradling his face in your hands. 

“How often has this been happening, Koo?” His eyes close, shaking his head as he tries to bury back into your neck. You stop him, pulling further away. 

“Jungkook, talk to me.” 

“Almost every night…”

Not again. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? To me? To Ryujin?” 

He stumbles over a few words, trying to figure out the answer. His hands let go of your shirt before grabbing it again seconds later, as if he has to remind himself he has control and isn’t dreaming anymore. 

“It’s nothing.”

“It's not nothing, Jungkook, if you’re having nightmares again every night...”

“They’re not nightmares.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow, “then what are they?”

“They’re just dreams, y/n.” He shuts down the conversation, and you have no choice but to follow along. 

“Fine. Let’s go back to my bed and sleep there, then.”

“I’m fine down here.”

“I don’t care. I want to make sure you’re okay. Can I do that? You do it for Ry and me every day. Let someone else be there for you. Please?”

He lets out a heavy sigh before mumbling in agreement. You disconnect from him, getting off the couch and helping him get up. His eyes meet yours, and your heart cracks at the sight. His eyes are red, eyelids puffy from the tears he never shows. You frown, wrapping his hand in yours, keeping it close as you climb the stairs to your room. 

He lets go of your hand as you both crawl into your bed, laying on your back to let him curl up against you. His face finds its way back between your neck and shoulder, and you can’t help the goosebumps that appear all over your body from his breath on your skin.

Neither of you say anything. Probably for the best. 

You fall asleep in that position, Jungkook’s tattooed fingers mindlessly dancing along the side of your waist over your shirt. One hand tangled in his hair, softly massaging his head while your other hand rests on his forearm draped across your stomach. 

For just a moment, you forget everything that’s wrong with this. For just a moment, it’s back before everything went to shit, and this was enough for both of you. 

When you wake up the next morning, which was really a few hours later, you’re still in the same position. The only difference is Jungkook’s legs have tangled up with yours, and his hand found a way under your shirt, lightly holding onto your side. His touch feels scalding hot against your skin. The breathing on your neck gives you goosebumps. Your hands are still in the same position. 

You’re about to wake him up when there’s a soft knock on the door before it slowly opens. 

Ryujin enters quietly; her eyes cast to the ground like a child knowing she’s in trouble. You know that look all too well. It’s the same look Jungkook gave when he accidentally broke the bottle of one of your more expensive paints, letting it spill all over the floor. 

Big round brown eyes, like a puppy pleading its innocence. 

When she looks up, her eyes widen at seeing her brother wrapped around your body. She shoots you a questioning look, and you have no choice but to quietly whisper nightmare in hopes she doesn’t get it confused. 

Her face softens with a frown at the realization of the word. 

“That’s supposed to be my job…I’m supposed to be there for him when it happens.”

You sigh, your hand moving from his hair.

“We’re all still trying to figure this out, Ry. Don’t take it personally.”

“I’m not… I’m… I’m not. I just feel like I failed him. Like I failed you…”

“You’re not failing any—” You cut yourself off when Jungkook’s head moves, pressing his face even closer to your neck for a moment before his eyes open. 

“Who are you talking to?” He mumbles, still half asleep. His voice is low and husky and it kills you that you have to ignore it, as well as ignore the way his hand squeezes your side as he readjusts to get comfortable. 

“Ryujin’s here…” 

He lifts his head to look around the room, tired eyes landing on his sister. His fingers dig into your side momentarily as the siblings make eye contact. Jungkook finally lets go of you, muttering a soft oh, and pulling away from you and out of the bed. 

“I’m gonna make breakfast…” he speaks softly, giving his sister a small hug before turning back to you. 

“Thank you…for earlier…” you nod in response, not sure what to say to either of them anymore. 

When he leaves the room, there’s an awkward silence in the air. Ryujin’s gaze is locked on where her brother was just laying and yours is on her, trying to figure out what’s happening. 

And then it hits you. 

All the times she’d come over after a fight with another friend, a disagreement with Jungkook, one of the few fights with Kai, or just when all the pressures of life got too much. She’d crawl into your bed just like Jungkook did and wrap her body around yours and fall asleep in your arms. 

You called it a Jeon Thing. 

You opened your arms up hesitantly, second guessing if that’s what she’s thinking of. But you didn’t have to wait too long before her eyes lit up a little and she’s hurrying to crawl in next to you, replicating the position Jungkook was just in, except her head rests softly on your shoulder and the hand across your stomach is playing with the fabric rather than touching your skin. 

You stay completely still, still terrified of her explosions. But they don’t come, instead she sniffles. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” You have to stay calm. Don’t give in too easily. 

“I’m really fucking sorry, y/n”

“Be more specific.” You slow your breathing, making sure you’re not the one that explodes. 

But maybe you should. 

Ryujin buries her face in your shoulder before speaking. 

“For everything. Being horrible to you. Blaming you. Saying the shit that I said…”

That’s it? That’s the apology?

Jungkook’s words from last night loop in your head rapidly, and you’re speaking before you can stop yourself, sitting up and dislodging her, forcing her to sit up facing you.

“You accused me of killing my brother, Ryujin. My brother. The one fucking person I could always count on. The one person in my family that believed in me and encouraged me to do what I wanted to do. You called me a murderer. You said it should’ve been me, Ry. You said you’d rather I have died instead of Kai. You said that about your best friend. Me. Do you hear how fucked up that is?”

Her eyes well up with tears, yours already escaping like a pro, as she fists the blankets in her hands, scared to look up. 

“I…I’m sor—”

“Ry, I’m terrified of you. You know that, right? I have to fucking sneak into our apartment. I changed my schedule at school to avoid you. I fucking went to the studio last night because I never want to come home. I stay with Yoongi a few times after group therapy until I think you might be asleep because, as stupid of a decision that is, it hurts less than coming home to my best friend telling me I murdered my fucking brother.” 

Ryujin opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She continues pulling at the fabric of the sheets in front of her as you watch the gears in her mind turn, trying desperately to come up with some form of words.

This was always her weakness. Being told she did wrong, being told she fucked up, and there wasn’t some easy fix. One time in high school, she was so sleep-deprived from studying the night before a midterm, that she mismarked every answer on the scantron, thinking the answers were for the question before. When the teacher told her she had failed, she lost all ability to function, too shocked to speak. You had to talk to the teacher to find out what was wrong, begging him to let her retake it the next day. 

But this isn’t high school. This isn’t a test she can just retake. There is no fix for this. The only thing she can do is accept that she fucked up.

The silence is deafening, save for the sound of Jungkook downstairs in your kitchen making food and the morning hustle and bustle outside. She keeps trying to speak, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to tolerate.

“Ry…” she stays frozen. “Ry, look at me.” You grab both of her hands, stopping her from potentially ripping your sheets. When she finally looks up, tears running down her face, you give her a tiny comforting smile.

“I love you, Ryujin. You know I do, and I always will,” you start, and she whispers I love you, too back, smiling through the tears. “Our bond is unbreakable, and you and I both know we will always be there for each other through thick and thin. But this? The things you said? Ry, I can’t just easily forgive you when you say sorry.”

“I…I know. But what do I do? How? How do I fix this?”

“You can’t. That’s the problem. This is something that only time can fix, and I wish that wasn’t the case. But I’m scared of being around you right now, Ry. Even right now, I’m afraid you’ll launch an attack and spew vile accusations at me.”

“No. I won’t. I won’t do that. Ever again.”

You smile, but it falters fast. 

“I don’t think it’ll be okay until you take the initiative to get help. Talk to someone, Ry—a professional. And stop drinking so much, eat something, design your pretty dresses again, work on the showcase, and take time for yourself. It sucks, it’s scary, and it sounds miserable, I know. But until you come back to being my Ryujin? I can’t do this with you anymore.”

Her eyes widen, hands gripping yours. 

“What does that mean?”

Suddenly it’s hard to look at her. You’ve been sitting on this decision for a while but didn’t think you’d ever have to make it officially. 

“I think it might be better for us both if I move out for a bit…”

“…no”

“Ry…” she shakes her head repeatedly. “We need to figure this out separately. I can’t baby you into getting help. And you can’t deal with me and my bullshit while you’re trying to heal. I’ll still be here when you need me. I’ll be here if you need help with your project. I’m not leaving, leaving. I could never leave you. You’re my person.”

“But where are you gonna go?” 

“I…don’t know. Maybe the studio?” 

“But there’s no shower there.”

Fuck. There isn’t. 

“What if you stay with Jungkook?” 

Your face heats up at the idea of living with Jungkook, but your stomach drops at the idea of being so close to Kai’s stuff. 

“I don’t think I can…”

“He’s miserable, you know.” Her voice softens, and her hands move out from under yours to be the ones holding on this time. 

“I think he’s afraid to be alone. He hasn’t talked about Kai unless someone starts the conversation, but he shuts it down fast. He’s so focused on you that I don’t think he’s realized how much help he needs. Maybe staying with him can help.” 

“I didn’t ask him to focus on me.” You try not to sound defensive. She knows that, choosing to ignore the tone. 

“We both know he didn’t choose to. It’s a part of who he is. You are a part of who he is, no matter what.”

Are you, though? Or is he a part of who you are? He could replace you so easily if you just let him go. You know that. He must know that. Maybe that’s why he wants you to tell him to move on. That you and Yoongi are a thing. 

He wants to replace you with anyone who makes him less sad.

Anyone but you. 

“Hey,” Ryujin’s voice cuts through your thoughts, your eyes looking up at her in a panic. “I see where your mind is right now. Stop whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“But—”

“I don’t care. Whatever you’re telling yourself to make yourself think he wouldn’t want to have you by his side every moment of every day is a lie, and you know it.”

You don’t respond, mind running a mile a second, and all you want to do is go back to sleep. 

“I…I understand if you feel you need to move out and get some space from me temporarily. I would never hold that against you, y/n. But please go with someone I know so I can know you’re okay. What even is a Yoongi?”

Your body freezes at his name. Of course she doesn’t know Yoongi. Of course she doesn’t know you’re sleeping with someone from group therapy. Of course she doesn’t know you went to the studio with him last night and fucked on your couch while you only thought about Jungkook. 

“A mistake. I think…” your gaze stays focused on Ryujin’s hands holding yours, eyes burning from the tears threatening to return for the nth time. 

“Y/n…you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” She’s careful not to sound judgmental, but you can still feel it. 

“No. No. I’m…I’m not.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes tight. “I’m trying not to. It’s just sex. But last night…I fucked up. And then you called. And then we argued. And then Jungkook…”

She stays silent, and it drives you crazy that you can’t read her mind.

“I’m gonna end it with him. Whatever it is. I can’t…keep doing this. I’m tired, Ry. I’m so fucking tired.”

“I know, babes. And I know a good amount of it is my fault, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out as her thumbs rub back and forth on the back of your hands just like Jungkook was doing last night. 

“What if I temporarily move out instead? You stay here. I’ll stay with Jungkook and stay in Kai’s room. You can stay here and try to heal on your own terms. It’ll be less stressful for you. You don’t always have to be the one making changes to your life for others, y/n. Let us make changes instead.”

You finally look up at her. Both of you have tear-stained faces, but she’s holding a smile that breaks your heart. 

“Ry…” 

“I’m doing it. I’ve decided.”

You smile back at her briefly. 

“Are you sure you’re even ready to go in his room? I went to his studio last night and couldn’t breathe.” 

She pauses momentarily, eyes on the ceiling as she thinks. 

“I think…I think I’m ready. I mean… No one will ever be with something like this, right? It’s always going to be scary. It’s always going to hurt. Even the smallest task will sometimes feel like a punch in the gut, right?” She takes a deep breath, seeing you smile again. 

“I miss him. I think being around his stuff can help me.” she quietly speaks.

“Yeah?” 

She smiles, nodding. There’s something in her expression that is still broken. Something you must not know about. But you don’t question it. Everyone has their secrets. You tell yourself that she’ll talk about it when she’s ready.. 

She doesn’t let you try to dissuade her, instead getting off your bed and dragging you to the kitchen where Jungkook has put together a full breakfast. 

He turns to you both, eyes widening at your hand in hers before looking at you. 

“Everything good?” He asks slowly. You nod silently, letting go of her hand to grab a plate and scoot past him to pile some pancakes on with some eggs. 

“Hopefully soon, yes,” Ryujin answers for you, looking nervously at her brother. “But I’m moving in with you for a bit. Until we figure out how to be, I guess…” she copies your moves, grabbing a plate and scooting past her befuddled brother. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She wanted to move out to put some space between us. I offered instead. I’m going to stay in Kai’s room…” 

“But…” he starts, but you interrupt. 

“But we haven’t gone in there yet. We’re gonna do that tomorrow morning. If you want to join, we can do it together. Maybe it’ll help you, too.”

“Yeah, JK. Y/n said you’ve been having nightmares again. And I know you’ve been sleeping on our couch more than your bed. Maybe having someone else there can help you?”

Jungkook stares at you both, sitting on opposite sides of the table with the same amount of food on your plates. Neither looking at him. Both making decisions without him. He grips the counter with both hands, pushing down every emotion. You almost miss it when you look up. 

“Jungkook? Are you okay?” You move to get up, but you hesitate, again, when he closes his eyes and nods. 

“I’m fine.”

Liar.

“Don’t you have group therapy tomorrow morning?” He changes the subject back to you, an easy task for him. It’s easier to focus on you, Ryujin, school, work, anything and everything but himself. 

Your eyes drop back down to your food, pushing it around.

“I’m not going.” You state, hoping he doesn’t question it further. 

But of course, it’s Jungkook. 

“Why not?” 

Your chest tightens, your throat closing in on itself. When did it get so hot? Are you sweating? Is that your heart or your brain pounding? 

“I don’t feel like going.” You try sounding confident, but your voice shakes, betraying you. 

“Y/n.” Your eyes meet his, begging him to drop it. 

“Jungkook, if she doesn’t want to go, she’s not going. Let her make decisions for herself.” 

“I’m not telling her what to do, Ry. I’m trying to help her.”

“Sounds like the same thing.”

Both of you, stop. Please. 

“It’s not, though. If she wants to learn to grieve and move on in her own way, that’s what she’ll do. You can’t control her.”

“Well, obviously, but—”

Snap.

Your fist slams down on the table, dishes rattling and silencing the room. 

“Please stop! Both of you. Stop talking about me like I’m not here. I’m right fucking here. Right here.”

You’re so tired of crying, of feeling. It’s exhausting. Every single little thing makes you want to cry. It’s ridiculous.

“Jungkook, I’m not going. I’ll go to the next one, and I still have my regular appointment with Dr. Adams on Monday. But I’d rather help Ry, okay?” You wait for him to nod in understanding before turning to his sister. 

“And Ry. He is trying to help. He’s been pushing me to do what I want to avoid, and I appreciate it. I’d still be curled up in my room if it wasn’t for him. So if he has to be pushy, it’s for a reason. Leave it.” 

She nods, and everything goes silent. 

This is why you need space. 

This is suffocating. 

“I have to get ready for class. I have to head back to the studio and pick up my canvas, so I need to leave in twenty minutes…” you get up from the table, rinsing the plate before placing it in the dishwasher.

“Thank you for breakfast, Koo. It was delicious.” You try walking past him, but a hand lands on your stomach, preventing you from leaving. 

“Do you want a ride? You seemed more or less okay with it last night.” 

You should say no. You want to distance yourself from everyone right now. You need to distance yourself. Everything is happening all at once, and you should say no, walk to the studio, and walk to campus.

But it was easier being in a car with him. 

 But you should say no anyway. 

“Okay…I’ll get ready quickly.” You whisper, walking past him when his hand moves. 

You hear the two of them whisper as you climb the stairs, but you’re too tired to care, so you slink back to your room. You grab your phone to charge it while you get ready, ignoring the notifications glaring at you as you plug it in and walk away. 

When it’s time to leave, Ryujin is already back in her room, making a list of things to bring to Jungkook’s while he’s sitting on the couch, keys in hand. 

The walk to his car is quiet. Getting in is just as silent, but he repeats the night before, grabbing your hand in his and holding it close to his chest through every intersection it takes to get to the studio. When he parks in his usual spot, his squeeze tightens on you, head lolling back against the headrest. 

He looks nervous. He feels nervous. His hand is getting sweaty while his grip switches between a death grip and shaking, barely holding on. 

“Jungkook?” You inquire softly, waiting for him to give some sign that he's okay. “Do you wanna come in?”

He exhales a small breath, shaking his head. 

“I don’t think I can.”

You shift in your seat, removing your seatbelt and grabbing the hand wrapped around yours. His eyes find yours, and you’re right. He’s scared. 

Is this how you looked last night?

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Koo. It sucks. The second you step into the studio, you’re back at the moments before finals. You go into his studio, and you fully expect him to be in there working his ass off on whatever assignment he has. But he’s not. And it’s like having to relive that night all over again. And it fucking sucks.” You sniffle, playing with his tattooed hand. 

“And I know the last thing you want me to do right now is mention Yoongi,” he groans out a small laugh, and the corner of your lips twitch into a smirk, “but he made a good point, Koo. The longer you hold off on doing this, on going into the rooms, reliving the memories with him, talking about him, the more it’s going to hurt you.” 

He sighs, closing his eyes. “I’m going to pretend he didn’t say that and that it’s just you being all wise.” 

“Well, I am all wise. We’ve established this many times.” You both grin, enjoying the brief moment of normalcy before he agrees to go in with you. His hand never leaves yours, but this time you’re the one rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. 

When you both reach the the front door, you unlock it, letting go of his hand. You give him a second before he opens the door fully, letting him step inside first.

You watch him from the front door as he stands in the middle of the living area, eyes scanning every inch of the room. When he turns back around, facing you, his eyes cast to his studio room. 

You can’t decipher the look on his face. 

He’s so good at pretending to be okay that it makes it impossible to read him sometimes. He looks as if he’s dazed; his mind is far away from the studio to somewhere you don’t know. 

“You good?” You hesitantly ask, taking two steps closer to him. 

He blinks a few times, eyes finding your worried expression before offering a small smile. 

“I’m okay. I need to get something from my room. A lens I need for class.”

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, expecting him to move, but he’s standing perfectly still. “Well, I’m going to get my canvas and clean up really quickly since I left abruptly last night…” you quietly walk to your room, turning to see him finally at his door, fingers hesitating over the pin pad before finally putting in the number and walking in. 

You enter your room, your canvas still leaning against your old ones. Black and white still. Paints dried up on the palette, and brushes stiff as a result. You dump the brushes into a jar of water and the palette onto the desk, making a mental note to return later tonight to clean up correctly. You swear you see a hint of purple as you put the canvas in a tote after ensuring  it was dry. 

You turn and are greeted by the cat painting Yoongi was obsessed with. Should you still give it to him? Even if you plan on ending things? You don’t want it, and it would look good in a cat cafe. If anything, you could give it to the cafe directly. 

God, you don’t want to talk to Yoongi. But you don’t want to ghost him completely. And before the sex, he was actually starting to be a good friend and an excellent partner in helping each other through your traumas. 

You look at the couch, resisting the urge to deep clean every inch of it. Maybe a new couch. One that won’t make you feel dirty and wrong every time you look at it. 

You have to apologize. And you have to cut ties with him.

You have to. 

You’re just going to hurt him in the end. 

You’re so good at hurting people. 

You hear the beeping of a keypad, turning your head to the doorway before grabbing your tote, setting the cat painting aside, and leaving your room. 

Kai’s door is open. 

“Jungkook?” You softly call out, leaving the tote on the couch in the living area. You call out his name again, slowly approaching your brother’s room. Your heart breaks at the sight. 

Jungkook’s sitting on the small couch with his knees pressed to his chest and his arms around his shins. His head is buried in between his knees, but he’s silent. 

“Koo?” You try again, slowly approaching, moving some of Kai’s scattered papers out of the way, and sitting next to him. 

When he still doesn’t respond, you stop trying. You’ll sit and wait by his side, ready to be there for whatever he needs. 

The most important rule in helping someone grieve: never push them to grieve how you think they should. Just be there when they’re ready. 

A mantra of sorts drilled into your brain in group therapy.

His body finally moves, his back rising suddenly as he takes a deep breath before slowly letting it out and raising his head. He doesn’t look at you, instead looking at the room he’s in. The same way you did the night before. 

His face is flush, like he was forcing himself to hold his breath. His eyes are dry, and he looks exhausted. 

“How did it go last night, coming in here?” He finally asks, head leaning back to rest on the couch. 

You flatten your hands on the couch, sliding them back and forth to feel the texture. It’s a nice distraction to keep your hands apart and not claw at your skin. 

“I had a full blown panic attack. Felt like I was dying. Like my brain was on the verge of exploding, and I kept hearing voices screaming, and I couldn’t see.” You let out a nervous laugh, keeping your eyes on the couch. 

“Voices?”

“Uh…yeah. Like, like my own thoughts, but amplified. I don’t know how to explain it…I’d rather not try, honestly.”

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, a hand stopping one of yours and softly holding onto it. 

“How’d you get through it?” 

“Jungkook…”

“What?”

“Stop…doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Diverting. You already know the answer. When I say Yoongi got me through it, you’re going to say something about how I feel about him, and then we’ll fight. You know it’s always going to be you in the end. I don’t understand why you keep saying it’s so one-sided when it’s clearly not. It’s just messy and complicated right now, okay? I don’t want to have that scene play out again. Specifically not here.”

He doesn’t respond, instead, staring at your hand in his, his thumb running over your ring finger. Your eyes flick up to his face, jaw clenched tight and eyes sad. There’s no sparkle in them like there usually is, and you’re not sure how long they’ve been so dull. 

How have you not noticed that?

“Have you allowed yourself to cry yet?” You hesitate to ask, but you have to. It’s been months since Kai passed, and you haven’t seen him cry since the crash or last night in his sleep. You want to be wrong. Please let him tell you you’re wrong. 

“No.” His voice cracks as he shakes your head, and you can feel your heart drop with it. 

“Koo. You have to let it out at some point. Or else you’ll be stuck and have those nightmares forever.” 

You turn your body to face him better, bringing your entwined hands to your lap. 

“I’m scared.” He shuts his eyes tight. 

“Scared of what?”

“If I cry, I’m scared I’ll never stop.”

“Koo…”

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break, tears streaming down his face as he begins to sob. He buries his head back into his knees and lets the floodgates open. You do nothing. You don’t want to. You want him to finally let it out and focus on himself and his own grief. 

So you sit. 

And you wait. His hand stays in yours as he finally lets go of months of emotional trauma, stress, and fears.  

You’ve only seen Jungkook cry like this once. It was after his parents divorced just before he graduated high school. He had so much going on, from finishing up high school to getting accepted to the same school as you and Ryujin. He had finals, projects, an internship, a part-time job, and a social life. 

All at the same time as he watched his parents argue, his mother packing up her stuff and moving out the day after his graduation. It became too overwhelming for him. He pushed everything down as far as he could and pretended he was fine. 

But you could see it in his eyes. Just like now, that sparkle was gone. He barely spoke, and if he did, it was about anyone else. He just focused on finishing the day and praying no one talked to him the entire time. 

Until one day, you both went to a street fair to celebrate high school being over. There were a few booths with carnival games and one that let you break plates. You dragged him over, encouraging him to destroy some ceramic dinnerware and let it all out. He did, but after breaking a good handful of plates, it was as if something in him snapped. 

You rushed him out of the booth, taking him to a darkened alley to fully cry in peace. He hated crying in front of others. He hated the idea of people perceiving him as weak. You’ve told him many times it doesn’t, but you still take him somewhere quiet and safe when you know he’s upset. 

He cried in your arms in that alley for thirty minutes, finally letting you take him home and having him fall asleep in your arms. 

You’re pulled from the memory when Jungkook’s hand pulls yours closer. You shift on the couch, wrapping your arms around him as he curls into your side. His tear stained face finds its home in the space between your neck and shoulder, his hands tightly grabbing at any part of you he can like you’re his lifeline. 

In a way, you are, to him at least. 

Just like he’s yours. 

He cries in your arms for what feels like fifteen minutes, random words stumbling out of his sobs, followed by questions that will never get answered and wishes that will never be granted. You continue to stay silent, only ever whispering that he’s okay, he’s safe, and to let it out. Every now and again kissing the top of his head when he grew silent, clutching him harder when the sobs returned stronger. 

Somewhere in the living room, your phone rings. You ignore it. 

Not right now. 

It rings again. You bury your face in Jungkook’s messy curls, focusing on the smell of his conditioner instead. 

Please stop. 

On the third call, Jungkook lifts his face from your neck just enough to look at you. 

“You should get that.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. Your hand softly cradles his cheek as you shake your head. 

“Nah. My top priority right now is making sure you’re okay.” 

He smiles. It’s broken and weak, but it’s there as he pulls away from you, sitting up straight and rubbing his hands across his puffy face. 

“I’m okay.” He mumbles behind his hands, “I’m puffy and probably need to rehydrate. But I’m okay.” 

“We can wrap an ice pack in a towel to reduce the puffiness. And there’s water in the fridge, I’m sure.” You mimic how he sits, brushing some of his hair out of his face. 

“Mmm. We should do a spa day. Once you and Ry are a little better, that is.” 

“I look forward to it. Full on facemasks and mani/pedis.” It's a soft whisper. You do genuinely hope there will be a time when you three can go back to normal. Or as normal as you can without your brother.  

“You sure you’re okay, Koo?” He nods, but you shake your head. “I need you to promise me you’ll stop blocking everything out. We’re all hurting. We’re all scared of a future without him. We’re all going through this together. You don’t have to always try to be the big brave hero.”

“But then what am I? I feel like I need to be something or do something so I’m not…so I don’t—”

“Remember that he’s gone?”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes dancing around his best friend’s studio where he’s spent countless hours pacing the floor while Kai was at his desk or on the couch talking about complete nonsense, complaining about Ryujin or ranting about your latest relationship failures. 

“Yeah…” his head drops, eyes falling to the floor in defeat. “I just want to forget. Focusing on anything else helps with that.” You stop yourself from reaching out to touch him again, instead placing both your hands on your lap, twiddling your fingers in place. 

“Jungkook?” You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows knit together as you focus on your hands, carefully forming the words in your brain before speaking again. 

“Kai’s gone. He died. I was there. I held his hand as he died. So, I understand wanting to forget that he’s gone and distracting yourself from remembering. But I relive that moment every day. I don’t have that same luxury you do of being able to forget. I wake up every morning thinking this is a sick nightmare and that he’ll be on the couch or in the kitchen stealing our food. But then he’s not. And I have to remember what it felt like to hold his hand for the last time. I have to remember watching them take his body away.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the feeling of Jungkook’s hands holding yours makes you flinch, causing the tears to fall on them. 

“So please, please, understand what I’m saying when I say how lucky you are that you have that option to forget, but also how ridiculous and rude it is to Kai to want to forget that he’s gone.”

“Y/n…that’s…I would nev—”

“He was your best friend, Jungkook. He always will be in a way. He would've been your brother-in-law once he and Ry got married. Don’t do that disservice to your best friend by trying to forget that he died. Forget the fights, forget the disagreements and all the bad moments you had with him. That’s fine. But don’t forget Kai, okay?”

He remains silent, lips shut tight, and eyes watering again. But he nods, squeezing your hands with his as a quiet okay escapes his lips. 

Your phone rings a fourth time, and you groan, letting go of Jungkook’s hands and getting up. You stomp over to your phone and glare at the screen. 

Mother (7) Missed Call

Mother (12) Text Message

Father (1) Text Message

Yoongi (3) Text Message

You put your phone on silent, slipping it into your backpack all the way at the bottom. 

The door to Kai’s room closes, and Jungkook appears behind you. 

“Was that Yoongi?” His voice carries no negative tone for once, no malice or anger. You shake your head, picking up the canvas tote that’s quickly taken away from you by Jungkook. 

“My mother…” your voice trails as you watch him walk towards the front door. He grimaces in your direction when your feet finally catch up to him. 

“Gross.” He steps out of the studio, letting you lock the door. You both silently head down the elevator and back to his car, where he waits until you both have your seatbelts on and your hand is back in his when he pulls out of the parking space. 

“What does she want now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Probably asking when I’m gonna come back home and get a real job now that they’re left with the lesser child.” You scoff, eyes on the road. 

“That or she already wants me to make plans for Christmas. Which I don’t want to think about at all.” 

Jungkook smirks, bringing your hand to his chest at a stop light. It takes you a second until you realize you’ve made it several blocks without your heart rate skyrocketing. Your eyes have been watching every car just like last night, but it feels less stressful. 

Because it’s him. It’s always him. 

“Why is it always you?” 

“Hmm?” The light turns green, and he steps on the gas. The feeling of panic is still there. But you’re able to push it back down. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t question you further as he pulls into the school’s parking lot. 

He exits the car first, helping you out next and putting your canvas tote on his shoulder. His hand finds yours again as you both walk to the art building in silence. 

“So when do I get to see the painting?” He questions, handing you the tote. 

“At the showcase.” You smile at his pout. 

“But that's months away.”

“Exactly. I don’t think I want anyone important to see any of it until then. It’s hard enough that I can’t see the colors right now. I don’t need other people seeing whatever mess I’ve made.”

“I’m sure it’s beautiful. Just like everything you create.” His hand squeezes yours, and you smile at the feel of his hand wrapped around yours. Your safety blanket. 

“I can’t wait to see your showcase next year. It’s gonna be great. You should use that one photo you took when we all went on that hike and saw all those stars.” You grin, the memory is still so bright and real in your mind. The meteor shower you wanted to see so badly that you convinced the three of them to hike up a mountain with you just to see it. 

“You and that damn mountain. You bamboozled us.” Jungkook groans. 

“Excuse me. You said you had fun and would do it again!”

“Only if you wanted to. And had a better reason. And without Ryujin. She complained the entire time. Even Kai was getting annoyed.”

“Okay. We’ll go back, just the two of us, the next time there’s a good meteor shower.”

“It’s a date.” 

You nod, but don’t respond. That phrase suddenly has such a bigger meaning than it did before. Instead, you focus on climbing the stairs to the third floor and approaching your classroom. His voice eventually breaks you out of your racing thoughts. 

“Do you want a ride home tonight?”

“I need to actually clean my brushes from last night. So I’ll be at the studio. Besides, isn’t your last class later than mine?”

“Fair. I can come get you after? Or bring food?” Your silence makes him panic, “or not. I just hate the idea of you out on your own so late…that’s all. I’m not trying to control you or anything.”

“No, no. I get it. Yeah. Come by after class. That’s fine. I just. I don’t know. Sorry.” You shake your head, gripping the straps to the tote. Confused, Jungkook opens his mouth to ask you to clarify what you’re saying, but the sound of his and your name from down the hall stops him. 

Your eyes find the source of the shout and land on Joshua and Jimin. Joshua glances down to your hand in Jungkook’s before shooting you a smirk. You let go out of instinct and readjust your grasp on your tote with both hands and avoid how Jungkook looks at you. 

“Hey, Jimin. How’s your second to last year so far?” You smile at him. His face flashes from confusion towards Jungkook to the same friendly smile you have towards him. 

“It’s great! Frustrating moments when my equipment decides not to function, but that’s expected. How—, uh, how’s your painting?” 

You can’t blame him for sounding hesitant. You haven’t seen Jimin since the funeral, and with the way everything that happened that day, you’d be treading lightly too. 

“It’s…going. I’m trying to change the way I paint. I’m not excited about the showcase, though.” 

“Oh, yeah. Taehyung’s been going on about it. You two have a lot to do, huh?” You smile at the mention of his boyfriend, missing the nights you’d invite them out to drink with the rest of the sQuad. 

“Yeah. I’m not sure how to get it all done in time. But I can’t wait to see what Taehyung does.” 

He smiles in return, and it’s suddenly awkward. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say next. Jimin looks just as lost, and Joshua is on his phone. Jungkook sniffs for the sake of making a noise. 

“We should go out to that karaoke bar again soon.” His voice breaks the silence, the three of you looking up at him. 

“I think that’s a great idea.” Joshua chimes in, “but first, we have a class that starts in forty-five seconds. See ya, friends.” He grabs your wrist, spinning you around in the direction of the classroom, dragging you with him. 

“Shua, class starts in ten minutes. Not forty-five seconds.” You whine as he sits you down in your seat, sitting next to you after going across the room and coming back with two blank canvases, setting one on his easel and the other on yours. 

“I know. But I needed to get you away from Jungkook so you could tell me why y’all were holding hands.” He grins, turning to face you once his stuff is set up. 

“This isn’t elementary school, Joshua. We can hold hands without it being anything.” You glare at him, slowly pulling your tools out of your bag, and placing them neatly on the table next to your easel. You grab a second easel, a much smaller one, and place it next to the big window. 

“While that is true, y/n, it’s you and Jungkook. Everything either of you do with one another means something. Always has been, always will.”

You look down at your canvas tote with a frown. He’s not wrong. That’s how you two are. Every action, every sentence, every thought. It all means something. Even if that something is meaningless to others, it’s the world to you both. 

“I guess…” you sigh, opening the tote and pulling out your canvas. Suddenly very hyper aware  others can see it as you set it down on the easel by the window. 

“Oh, holy shit, that’s beautiful, y/n.” Joshua says, standing up to look closer, “the colors are stunning.”

“Are they…?” You squint at the painting. Some colors are just barely visible. You see the purple a little stronger, and a bit of what you think is yellow? You’re still not sure. 

“Yeah, the way you blended the green with the—”

“No! Don’t tell me. I wanna wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For when I can see the colors again.” You grin, actually feeling hopeful for once. Joshua smiles back, patting your shoulder and sitting back down. Before Joshua can question further, Professor Varon walks in exactly as class is set to begin. 

“Okay, everyone! Let’s get to it! The first week is done, and now down to serious business!”

The class goes by so fast you’re not even sure you registered any information in your brain. You spent too much time glancing between the professor and your finished painting. At one point, while walking the room, he stopped by you, eyes on the finished piece as he asked you to stay after class. 

Joshua packs up his stuff, saying goodbye to you with the promise of getting together for clothes shopping in a week or two. Professor Varon makes his way to your seat next to the big window once everyone is out. 

“So, how was the process?”

“The what?” You look up at him, his eyes still on the painting. “Oh. Uh, shit? Yesterday after I left I went to our shared studio for the first time…” 

How was that only yesterday?

“And how’d that go? Being in a place you used to spend a lot of time with him in?”

“Horribly?” You let out an exasperated laugh, “I went in his room, had a panic attack, made a horrible decision, woke up, sat in his room talking to nothing, and then finished the painting.” He gives it a beat of silence before he smiles. 

“So it sounds like it went pretty well.” You both laugh as you slowly put your stuff away.

“I guess so. It felt good painting…I just kinda zoned out for a few hours, and when I came back, it was done more or less.” 

“And what about the colors?”

“Joshua said there was green in it. I can kind of see purple, and I think there’s yellow. But I’ve decided to stop straining to see it.” 

“That’s a good idea,” he smiles at you, “just keep painting, y/n. You’ll see it again.”

“Thank you…I’m trying.” 

“That’s all you can do sometimes.” He shrugs, walking back to his desk as you put the canvases back in your tote. “And put that one in your showcase. Everyone should see it.”

Hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think, any ideas on where it’s going or any questions. The next chapter is Ryujin’s POV and oh boy is that not gonna be fun to write. 😖

[pirillalothario]

If You Can't Stand The Heat

Cap 0.07

"Mom hasn’t been feeling well lately"

"One would say that, after me and my little brother Beau, a woman her age should know the symptoms, right? But she says nothing about it..."

"And who do you think is the father? Does your mother have a boyfriend? She’s pretty... Nice," Gordon giggled.

"My father died less than three months ago. It could be him... I need you to get me more chores, Gordon, please! Beau is still in diapers, and you can’t know how much diapers cost!"

Gordon laughed even louder

"And I’m very, very careful never to learn it, little Dustin. I’ll see if I can get you involved in my next... secret mission. See you in the next few days, man."

Almost a week passed without Dustin hearing news from Gordon, and his mother Brandi was getting "worse and worse".

"Dustin, your brother Beau only wants you!"

"Don’t say that, Mom! Beau adores you," Dustin said, but he thought it wasn’t so strange that he was his brother’s favorite, since his mother had never paid him any attention.

His job, his mother, his little brother, his girlfriend.. Dustin's day were so fast and so busy that he could barely sleep, let alone study!

But every time Dustin came home with a D, Brandi completely lost control, and she started screaming.

Dustin didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how everything changed so quickly.

Of course, even when his father was still alive, they weren’t rich, but at least Dustin could focus on his studies and his friends.

And now he suddenly became the head of the family.

While her eldest son was at school, Brandi often received a visit from Dina. Dina was such a good friend! With her Brandi was feeling still young and ready to live her best life!

And Dina was the right person to confide her concerns to.

"I think I might be pregnant, Dina. By Skip... But I'm not ready to take a test, who would want a posthumous son of Skip Broke? That fucking asshole..."

"Listen Brandi, you’re going out with my sister, her boyfriend and me tonight. Let’s go to dinner and have a drink, we’ll relax! You deserve it!"

"Dustin, I’m going out with my friends tonight. Will you take care of Beau?"

"Mom, Angela’s having a party. I told you last week. Do you have to go out just tonight?" Dustin asked.

But he already knew the mother’s answer.

"You always get bad grades, and you haven’t been going to work lately. We’re gonna have to pay rent in a few days, and Beau’s milk is running low. You know, Dustin, how stressed am I?"

That’s when the phone rang.

It was Angela, and she wanted to talk to Dustin. But Brandi nervously answered that Dustin was not available.

She closed the call and lay down on the couch for a nap.

Dustin was angry, but he was used to repressing his anger. He tried to turn it into energy and committed to doing homework for the next day.

An unwise idea was forming in his mind...

Brandi had a nice night out with Dina, Nina and Don. She had fun, and she was feeling calm, because she knew that in that moment she had no responsibility.

"Nina, didn’t you say that maybe Brandi is pregnant? She shouldn’t drink!" Don said inappropriately.

Meanwhile, at home, Dustin had prepared dinner for little Beau, he bathed him and read him a bedtime story.

Then he had put some clothes rolled up under the covers of his bed, so that in the dark that mess seemed like it was him asleep. And now he was ready to go to Angela’s party... leaving Beau home alone.

Luckily Brandi came home just a few moments later.

"Hey, did you see that great yellow sports car? It must was Daniel’s car, it’s so incredible!" Don said.

"Daniel who?" Asked Brandi.

"Daniel Pleasant, sweety, your son's father in law" answered Don.

[divinemare]

⊹₊ ⋆ 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 ⋆₊ ⊹

┊⁀➷ nyx archeron x oc

┊part nine

☁︎·̩͙✧

“You look…beautiful, dear,” her mother forced a smile while fixing up her hair, but Demetria said nothing.

She knew her mother was doing all this in hopes she would take information out of her, in hopes to understand why was she taking this decision, why, even tho she hadn’t slept in weeks, her eyes looked dull and her skin much paler than normal, she still decided to marry the male responsible for it.

Demetria looked at herself in the mirror. She did not looked beautiful, she looked dead. Emotionless. She didn’t just looked like it, she felt like it as well.

Everything had turned dull with the passing of the days, from the aching pain in her chest at the absence of something she still didn’t understand, to the tiredness that consumed her day and night.

She stared at the flowers in her head and felt a tremendous urge to tear them up and destroy them, to trample them underfoot, to get rid of them and their stupid bright colours. She wanted to take off her clothes, the ones that had been made for her in a combination of Spring and Winter styles, and burn them to ashes. She hated them, hated their colours, their layers and their meaning. Yet Demetria only stood up from her vanity and walked over to where her shoes waited.

Viviane watched her daughter with pain in her eyes, she wished then she could ask Feyre to read her mind, to tell her what was wrong with her sweet girl, but she wouldn’t, she knew Demetria wouldn’t forgive the invasion in her mind. But still, she was a desperate mother, and everyday she saw her daughter crumble a little bit more, she got more and more desperate.

“Demetria, my beautiful snow flake, please, I’m begging you to tell me what’s wrong,” she approached her white haired daughter.

When Demetria raised her head and saw the tears gleaming in her mother’s beautiful eyes, she wanted to scream and hug her. But she had only empty words to respond with.

“Would you trust me when I say that I’m doing this for a reason?”

“And is that reason enough to make you look so sad?”

Now that made her tear up. It was, it really was, but still, she felt so…lonely.

Demetria swallowed her tears up and nodded. Not capable of answering out loud, as she knew she would break down if she did so.

“Oh, my brave girl,” Viviane approached her daughter, and without Demetria expecting it, her mother embraced her in a hug.

Her heart crashed against her aching chest with the force of a thousand unspoken words. She didn’t dare move, afraid she would break down if she did so.

“Just don’t shut us completely down, your father is stressed to death, and your brother…” Viviane pulled away enough to cup her face in her hands, and Demetria had to swallow her tears. “Your brother misses you, he’s your twin, he feels your distress.”

“I don’t want to get him involved, not for now, at least.”

“Then get me involved.” That voice she hadn’t heard in a month made all her hair stand on end and her eyes to shot towards the door, opened with shock and confusion.

“Darling?” Viviane took her daughters chin in her fingers to turn her towards her, looking confused by her sudden change.

“I’m here, and I’m not leaving until I speak with you.”

Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she thought she was having a heart attack.

Her mother furrowed her eyebrows, waiting for a response that Demetria wasn’t able to deliver at the moment.

“Now, Demetria.”

She swallowed hard and looked back at the door. Her mother sighed, and when Demetria turned to look at her, she saw how the female smiled slightly.

“Go, he’s most definitely not leaving without having a word.”

“How…?”

“Please, you really thought Feyre and I didn’t already know? I’m your mother, my beautiful snow flake. Now go, go,” Viviane pushed her daughter towards the door slightly, giving Demetria no chance but to walk out of her room.

She followed the tug of energy that somehow told her exactly where Nyx was. She didn’t knew how, but…she just knew. Knew what path to follow, knew how many steps to take. Just knew how to find him.

The beating of her heart became so irregular as she reached the terrace on the east side of the place she could perfectly hear it in her ears and feel it pounding in her throat as she opened the windows, the night blending with overwhelming perfection with the male standing outside. His wings where spread like two great impotent shadows. Demetria noticed, there, that the stars seemed to shine more brightly in his presence, that his face was hard and molded into an expression of what appeared to be rage and helplessness and relief and...she really had no idea what else, she could never read Nyx's expressions completely. Funny, for someone who could read a person's soul with a look.

“What are you doing here?” Nyx smiled with bittersweet, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Not even a hello? Now that’s rude, sweetheart,” even tho his mocking smirk was on place, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Cut the bullshit. What. Are. You. Doing. Here,” Demetria approached with her arms folded, she barely could tolerate looking at her family, but looking at him now…she truly felt like a snow mountain a touch away from crumbling.

“I told you, I want to talk to you,” the fake smirk immediately vanished as if it had never been there from Nyx’s face, and only pure, forced calmness to cover up exploding emotions remained.

“I don’t have time for this, Nyx, I need to go,” she turned around, ready to leave her heart in that balcony while her sanity was still intact.

“Where? To your engagement party?” Demetria stoped dead in her tracks.

Obviously he should’ve known by now, but still…something so unpleasant it made her want to throw up twisted in her stomach.

“You’re not seriously planning on marrying him, are you?” The disbelief in his voice made Demetria scoff and finally turn around to face him.

When had he gotten so close?

She swallowed the beats of her own treacherous heart and looked at him with the same disbelief he was looking at her. He paused for a second, finally acknowledging her clothing, and Demetria could only say he looked positively ten times more enraged and even disgusted by the way both Winter and Spring styles didn’t match each other at all. And she hated she felt the exact same way about it.

“Maybe I am, so what.”

“Oh, like fucking hell you are,” she had never, in the whole century she’d been knowing him, seen him so enraged like he was looking right now.

That just made her more angry, that just made her want to explode harder.

“What? Now you’re going to tell me who am I to marry and who am I to not?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Demetria scoffed again, looking at him as if waiting the signal that this was a joke, but it wasn’t, not with the male looking so exasperated as he did.

Now she was fucking pissed too.

“Oh, fuck you Nyx, fuck you!” She tried to get away, but he didn’t allow it as he grabbed her by her arms and made them both turn around so she’ll be trapped between the stone railing and him.

They looked at each other with such an intense rage and almost snapping gritted teeth that the heat running through her body at the proximity of his was just as ridiculous at the erratic pounding of their hearts. Because Demetria could hear his, too, and she was sure he heard hers as well.

“You can curse me everything you want, sweetheart, but you’re still not going to marry that piece of shit.”

“Why not? Huh? As if you fucking cared!” She trashed against his grip, but he only held her harder and closer.

“I do fucking care! I do! And because maybe you haven’t grasped it yet, or maybe you’re just ignoring it, but this?” He looked between the two of them. “We?”

Demetria’s mouth fell so dry she almost gasped, but she couldn’t allow it, she couldn’t allow him to come any closer, she couldn’t allow this to go any further.

“There’s no we, Nyx.”

“There is a we! There has always been a we! Do not pretend otherwise, for fucking Mother’s sake, Demetria!”

She had no other words left in her to fight, she wasn’t even sure there was any desire left to fight at all, but yet she snarled at him, with all the anger she had been accumulating the last couple of weeks, with all the impotence she had been feeling and all the despair she couldn’t contain anymore.

“I hate you, Nyx Archeron! I fucking hate you!”

“Dem…” He soften his grip enough for her to free herself and start punching his chest, tears finally falling down her cheeks.

“I. Hate. You!” She emphasized every word with a punch in his chest.

But he did not move, he stayed there, allowing her to burst all her emotions in a fist of rage and tears.

“Dem…”

“Fuck you and your ‘let’s do nothing, together’,” one angry, desolated punch. “Fuck you and your ‘sweetheart’ nonsense,” and another. “Fuck you and your ‘that’s my girl’ bullshit,” and another. “Fuck you and your unspoken words,” and another. “And fuck you for leaving me when I needed you!”

“Well then fuck you as well!” He snapped, his night-sky blue eyes full of a fire she knew all too well, the same fire burning in her chest, the same fire making her skin hot, the same fire holding their rage together. “Fuck you and your stupid believe that you have to do everything on your own. Fuck you and your need to control everything around you. Fuck you and that stupid dress you’re wearing because it’s nothing like you, and it makes me so fucking mad to think you’re wearing it for him. Fuck you and the way you make me so incredibly confused I cannot sleep because I cannot stop thinking about you. Fuck you and the way you make my heart feel like a useless little thing when it seems to not be able to contain itself around you,” he got so close to her she had to grip the railing so hard her hands began to hurt with the rough stone. “And fuck you, Demetria, because I cannot believe that in all the people in this Mother damned world, the Cauldron made me fall so stupidly and irrevocably in love with you, only to then break my fucking heart making you my mate too.”

He was so angry yet so…desperately hopeful it made Demetria held her breath. The tears were now falling silently, but she did not react to that word. Mate. She had already known it. Deep down, she had already felt it.

Nyx Archeron, the reckless, stupid, oh-so-charming Night Prince was her mate.

[f1goat]

The sister + Lando Norris - part eight

In which your the little sister of Max Verstappen and you meet Lando Norris, who quickly turns in to one of your best friends. But there's a thin line between friends & lovers.

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven

You haven’t heard anything from Lando since your “fight”. It’s slowly driving you insane. You have asked Max multiple times if he delivered your letter to Lando, which he says he did every time you ask. Of course you believe your brother, but sometimes it’s a nicer thought that Lando didn’t see your letter. Mainly because you can’t understand Lando. If he did read the letter, why didn’t he reach out? 

“He’s an idiot,” Kelly tells you once again. You didn’t even say anything to her. She just knows what you’re thinking about. Not that it’s that hard to guess the last days. “So now it’s time for my plan,” she continues. You feel stressed, normally her plans only cause more drama. “You are going to show him what he’s missing,” she explains. 

“How?” You ask Kelly. 

“I told you about George right?” Kelly asks you, “I might have made a little deal with him…” 

“You did what?” 

“Just let me explain,” Kelly says with a smile, “it’s going to be good.”

You nod, waiting for her to explain her idea. It can’t be good that George’s is involved. You don’t want to fuck things up further with Lando, but on the other hand what’s there to lose? He isn’t talking to you anymore, he has blocked you on the most of his socials - or better said, on any social you checked. If he sees you in public he’s always walking away from you. He’s even acting cold towards your brother. 

You still understand that he’s mad. You didn’t treat him right. But, is it that wrong to hope that he’d understand? 

“You and George are going on a date,” Kelly says, “and I will make sure Lando knows of it.”

“I don’t think he cares about that,” you tell Kelly.

“Just believe me, he cares very much about that.”

**

Days pass quickly. Every day you try to talk to Lando. Hoping that there will be a day he’s not leaving a room when you walk in it. Today is no exception. You just want to know if Lando read your letter. If he did and he’s still mad, it’s a sign for you to move on. But if he didn’t, then you still need to explain to Lando. He deserves an explanation and you deserve a chance to make things alright with him. 

You notice Lando walking away, this time you decide to follow him. You can’t wait forever. With a hurried tempo you start following Lando. You want to call him out, hoping that he will wait. But you don’t dare it yet. Not wanting any attention from media. You see how Lando is getting in the elevator. You drop all your shame and run towards the elevator, hoping you can still catch it. 

It worked. You were quick enough. But now you and Lando are standing awkwardly in the same elevator. Fuck. He doesn’t even look at you. You can’t stop looking at him. Lando looks bad. His skin is reddish around multiple areas in his face, his eyes are a bit more closed than normal and he seems tired. Or sad? You know for sure that you look the same, or even worse. 

“Please talk to me,” you beg Lando.

“Why would I? It’s not like you took the time to talk to me,” Lando quickly shots back. 

You sigh. This is hopeless. It even seems like he hates you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain myself properly,” you tell Lando once again, “but please believe me that I had my reasons.”

Lando ignores you. Giving you no other option then to talk further. You don’t have a lot of time before he’s going to walk away from you once again. 

“Did you read my letter?” You ask Lando. 

He shakes his head, you sigh, “Why would I take the time to read something that isn’t going to change anything?” He asks you bitterly. 

“Please Lando,” you beg, “read the letter.”

You touch Lando his arm, trying to make your desperate words even more clear. 

“Don’t touch me,” Lando says softly. You remove your hand from his arm, shaking it in your hair. This is hopeless. Things are never getting right again between the two of you. All because of you. You bit on your lip. When is this elevator ride over? 

“You really do hate me, don’t you?” You ask Lando with a sad tone. You feel tears coming up. This elevator ride needs to be over soon, you don’t want to cry in front of Lando. This time it Lando who touches you, he softly pushes you against the walls of the elevator. Towering over you, finally making eye contact with you. 

“Don’t ever say that again,” he groans. 

“But you do hate me. You don’t want me to explain things, you walk out of every room I enter and you have blocked me on everything,” you sigh. You can’t help a tear from falling down your cheek. 

Lando puts his hand on your cheek, wiping away the tears that are running down on it. He sighs softly. 

“You don’t understand Y/N,” he says softly. 

“Then explain me.”

“I wish I could hate you,” he tells you, “but it’s fucking impossible to hate someone like you.”

“Someone like me? What do you mean?”

The elevator stops, Lando quickly gets out. Leaving you standing all confused in the elevator by your own. He leaves without any form of explanation. You can only sigh. Why is he so fucking confusing? You pull out your phone, searching for your text messages with Kelly. 

Let’s do it. Arrange the things with George asap. And tell me exactly what to do.

**

Lando almost runs until he’s inside off his hotel room again. He feels so miserable. Why did he tell you so much? Last days have been terrible for him. He can’t help himself. All of his days pass slowly, he contacts no one and does nothing expect for the things he needs to do for McLaren. It’s making him crazy. Of course he wants to make things all right with you, but he doesn’t dare. He knows for sure that you don’t return his feelings for you, so why throw himself in to a friendship that will only hurt him in the end? 

Your letter is still laying on his night stand. He didn’t read it. His first idea was to throw it away, but he didn’t manage it. Maybe he should read it? It seemed important for you. 

He sighs softly before getting the letter from his night stand. Opening the envelope. He scans the letter, quickly reading it now he has finally opened it. He reads your hand written words. After reading it he can only hate himself. How the fuck did he miss this? Why didn’t he think about this? Fuck. He really fucked everything up. This is fucking terrible. 

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // fifty

| @sani-sims

next / previous / beginning

EVE: Kyrie, what are you doing out here? KYRIE: I just… I needed… air. I don’t know. I’m… EVE: You’re not okay. KYRIE: I’m sorry for asking you to help. Under the circumstances, I felt there wasn’t time for further explanation. I know Tayuin was cruel to you in the forest. But what he said wasn’t true. There is no other woman. I’ve never had anyone. The only one I did have was Alphanei. She’s my— EVE: Sister. KYRIE: You knew? EVE: No. But it’s the only thing that makes sense. You said you’ve never done the trials till now. And if you’ve never wanted to, there had to be some reason you’d been forced to involve yourself now. We’ve been here nearly a month and have never met nor seen her. And the pain and fear in your eyes… well, that’s only caused by deep love. One a brother might have for his twin sister. Where is she, Kyrie? KYRIE: I don’t know. No one knows. She and her party vanished weeks ago on a venture north. We’ve sent multiple search parties and nothing has been found. No trace of her. And for all my visions, the moon has granted me no answers. She’s just… gone. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. If she’s in pain. If— EVE: It’s alright. It’s okay to fall apart sometimes. KYRIE: But the trial— EVE: There’s more important things in life. And, after all, you’ve managed to get the ten of us this far. You’re doing well, Kyrie. Take some time and worry about yourself for once. KYRIE: laughs I’m not sure I know how. KYRIE: Thank you, for saying that. EVE: Which part? KYRIE: That I’m… doing well. Although, I’ve made a lot of mistakes. No one’s done anything but point them out. EVE: It mustn’t be an easy job. Especially under so much stress. I’m sure I’ve added to it. KYRIE: No, I’m thankful you’re here. There are many bright spots about conducting the trials. For all the work, I can see why she loved… loves it. Al always looked forward to the ceremony. She was excited the first time she got to lead it, herself. EVE: I’m sure it hasn’t always been easy for her, either. KYRIE: Maybe you’re right. I never bothered to ask. I hope I haven’t missed the chance. EVE: You can’t think about it like that. There’s still hope. KYRIE: And yet every day I feel it dim.  KYRIE: coughing EVE: Kyrie! KYRIE: Please, don’t… Just pretend you never saw this. EVE: You know I won’t. What’s going on, Kyrie?

[celestialiron]

Echoes of Courage: Chapter 1

After much consideration (asking from you guys here!) & my best friends also telling me to "stop being a little bitch & post it!" (with all of their love lol) I'm going to be updating my story here too! I posted the link to the prologue since it ties in with the story too! I'll still be posting chapters to my AO3 for my story too, it'll be paused until I catch up to both here & AO3! Finally, it's my OCs time to shine!

But without further adieu, here's chapter 1 of my story!

WARNING: Everyone in the story are all adults (unless there's a flashback then I will mention it)! As well as a lot of harsh language, suggestive themes, violent scenes, and other triggering moments that will progress throughout the story (which will also be warned beforehand). So minors & TCEST shippers, DNI. Please be respectful of not only myself & my story, but also of each other. Be kind to one another.

Summary: This is a story of love, lost, family, friends and trying to get a hold of everything being thrown at them. This will be a tale for the people involved, but with the help of loved ones and getting to trust one another, they're hoping that everything will be put to an end once and for all...

The day started like any other Friday for a senior college student: stressed and tired. Izra Montague sure knew how to handle it, especially with all the classes as a senior music student who took so many credits to graduate on time with her college friends and start up her career. ‘Oh lord, it’ll be from today, 2 weeks until graduation and I don’t even know what to do for it,’ thought Izra, arm over her eyes as she lay in her bed, mind still blown as she found out she’s able to walk and graduate on time and hadn’t even thought of anything to do for herself. The amount of graduation parties from her close college friends were able to help her decide if she even wanted one or not, but still going to theirs. Deciding to do something more productive, Izra sat up from her bed, checked the time to see if she had enough time to make something to eat before her class. The clock read 12:00pm , to which she proceeded to get something quick to eat before her class. While getting dressed, deciding to wear dark blue jeans with regular van shoes with a plain black strapped shirt, wearing a flannel over it, Izra checked her phone for any messages from school, friends, whichever she can see first. The first thing she read was from the group chat with her friends April O’Neil and the Hamato brothers. Smiling while reading the text messages, Izra groaned as the group continued to ask whether she was going to have a graduation party or not. 

LoserLeo: can you please make up your mind for once, Izz-Bizz? This will only happen once in a lifetime if we don’t celebrate your day! :( 

Don-Bot: I mean if we really want to be technical-

Razz_Mikey: yeah, what Leo said! WE’LL PLAN EVERYTHING LIKE WE DID FOR APRIL’S GRAD PARTY

April’sNews: Well, let’s double think about that now, ESPECIALLY from that grad party :o

BigBearRaphie: I agree, we don’t want a repeat of certain people getting so drunk they don’t even remember they were calling their boyfriend, RIGHT LEO?

LoserLeo: HEY, WE AGREED TO NEVER SPEAK OF THAT OR MY EX!

Laughing at the last message that was sent in the chat, Izra started typing out her response, hoping it’ll calm the fire that will be set to burn someone soon. With the last message sent, Izra left her place and went off to class.

MysteryIzzie: thank you for bringing it up, I thought I was going to be the one to do the job, but thanks Raph! xD

MysteryIzzie: BUUUUUUT I will let you guys know AT LEAST an idea soon, I promise you all that! :) I’ll talk to you guys later, gonna head to class!

Meanwhile, the four Hamato brothers were up at the lair, all sitting in the projection room trying to plan what to do for their friend. “I mean, how bad would it be if we planned something soooort of similar to what we did for April’s party?” Leo suggested, trying to at least get the ball rolling if Izra was going to be indecisive. All three brothers glared at Leo, Donnie speaking up, “out of the question! We’re not going to be dealing with any repercussions to your dum-dum exes or booty calls if you get too drunk again and start making calls!” Glaring at him, Leo tried to say something (most likely the lines of ‘ it won’t and you guys need to stop bringing it up!’ ) Mikey exclaimed, very excitedly, “WE CAN DO A HUGE GROUP PARTY!” looking over at Mikey, who suddenly brought in a white board (most likely taken from Donnie’s lab, to which he was not too happy about), and started planning out ideas. “We don’t necessarily need to do single parties for everyone, when we can just combine it for everyone to enjoy! And this will be good for Izzie to meet more people than just her college friends, April, and us!” Once finishing up what he was writing, he showed a very large timeline of various names and in the middle read * PARTY* in huge letters and circled multiple times following it. Looking at the board, Raph was the one to speak first, “well, while this is nice and all Mikey, don't you think they should all at least, I don't know, meet each other first? Like what April did before? Also, Alexis can’t come that Saturday, she starts her new job soon and always has Saturdays to work.” A little saddened by the news, Raph gave Mikey a reassuring pat on the shoulders, smiling while staying positive for him, “you know she’ll want us to have it anyways bud, besides what you got going looks great!” With a nod, they all continued on, deciding who could come and who couldn’t come.

While figuring it out, with now the help from April who came over about an hour after they were still planning it out. It seemed perfect, however a couple of them were still a bit on the defensive side on whether Izra should meet with these other people earlier or not. “I’m just saying, we all know how Val is, I think it should be a first meeting at least with her of all people!” Leo exclaimed, already knowing how one of his other best friends was going to react to meeting new people, especially those she really didn’t know. Groaning in agreement, April dejected, “hey, maybe this will be a good exercise for her too! She’s got to be better at meeting new people! ALSO CONTROL ONE OF YOUR SUPPOSED “BESTIE” THEN LEO!” “Awe Apes, no one could replace youuuu!” Leo said, trying to get April to hug him, knowing she was joking about the last bit. Rolling his eyes, Donnie brought up a good point to them all, “well, as you should know too, Kira, Ruka and Valeria are long time friends so if anyone should also be able to “handle” her, it’s the both of them too. Especially since Ruka was nice enough to agree to this idea in the first place.” Nodding their heads in agreement, Leo smirked, deciding to mess with his twin, “awe see, they’re not even together and he still chooses Kira over us,” was said while chuckling, Raph and Mikey joining him about Donnie’s very much obvious crush on Kira while April sighed, patting Donnie’s battle-shell before letting him decide if he should kill his brothers or not. “You better sleep with one eye open Nardo, I know just how to mix specific herbal flowers with tea. You can thank Kira for that too,” Donnie growled, going on the defense about Kira (absolutely trying to block out his feelings at the moment). Making Leo swallow his saliva quietly before returning to the board, “ any-who , so it looks like we got ourselves the final people who could actually make it! Now the next step: asking them if they could or not,” with that in mind, all 5 were on the mission to get everyone ready to meet each other for the first time in such a huge setting.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that day, Izra was heading out to a coffee shop before meeting up with April and the guys, needing some caffeine after the day of classes, glad it was the weekend to spend a break with friends. ‘Man, I can’t wait to hear what the guys had planned, almost had to turn off my phone so I wouldn’t get distracted in class.” Thought Izra, while waiting on her mocha frappe from the cafe she loved coming to since she started school. Thanking the cashier for the drink, she started to head out, deciding to sit at one of the tables that just sits closely by the cafe to catch up on missed messages and any assignments to work on. While mindlessly scrolling through her phone, Izra wasn’t made aware of someone looking at her, almost as if they were having whiplash at who she was. Before long, Izra heard someone call her name.

“Izra? Izra Montague?”

Stopping dead in her tracks from what she was doing on her phone, Izra froze, ‘Oh my god, is that…?’ she thought as she turned around to face who was calling to her. There stood a woman her age, about a height taller than Izra, a light caramel tan to her skin, her long brown curled hair up in a bun, wearing black leggings with gray flats and a plain grayish white shirt with a loose black cardigan to go with the outfit. Apparently, she had also ordered coffee from the same cafe, to Izra’s surprise that she didn’t even notice her there.

“Ruka? Is that really you?” Izra asked, wanting to pinch herself believing it was all a dream and she would wake up from it eventually. “Yeah, it’s really me…” Ruka answered, also seeming a bit hesitant on asking her the same question. “Am I dreaming or am I actually seeing you, Izzie?” She ended up asking, also wanting to believe that Izra was here and not stuck somewhere else and far from home. Tearfully, Izra got up from her chair, fully facing Ruka, smiling as bright as one can, “yes, I’m here… I’m the real thing, unfortunately,“ she laughed as Ruka covered her mouth from shock, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks as she smiled, running up to her long-time friend for a tight hug, as Izra gave her an equal amount of hugging too. They both stood there hugging for about 10 minutes, not wanting to let go as if either one would disappear from each other, letting people walk past them without a care in the world. Slowly they let go, very happy to have found each other again, Izra was the first to speak, “I would’ve never guessed for you to be living here ma’am! How long have you been here?! Who else is here?! Did you come here alone?! What happened-” before she could continue her questioning, Ruka stopped her before anymore was said, “I didn’t think so either, but if you have some time, we can catch up here, if you want to…” she asked hesitantly, thinking back to the old days and remembering what had happened back home. Noticing her hesitation, Izra paused, feeling a bit guilty about the things that happened back then, but she isn’t who she was back when she left home, not anymore. 

“Of course I have time! I understand why you would ask though. Natalie almost couldn’t believe it either…” she started, staying a bit quiet before continuing, “listen, I’m sorry for what I said, what I did back home. I never intended to make ANY of you feel that way or the words that were spoken that day too, I was angry at the world, mainly myself really…” Izra looked to the side, not feeling confident about looking at her best friend at the moment. “I know it doesn’t excuse what I did, but I want you to know how guilty I’ve felt ever since and I worked hard to find myself again and then-” before she can continue on with her apologies, Ruka hugged her again, squeezing tightly, giving Izra reassurance, “I know you are. I know you felt guilty about it, we wouldn’t be best friends if I didn’t know you like the back of my hand.” She said, letting go for a bit to look at Izra, already knowing her best friend has well improved since her days away from home. “I already forgave you. We ALL have.” Ruka squeezed her shoulders, once again reassuring Izra everything is okay, “let’s continue this conversation sitting, as much as standing around is nice, I’ve been walking around all day and I need a break,” she said, both woman giggling while sitting back down to where Izra had just been, finally getting a chance to talk about everything .

Once the time hit 5 in the afternoon time, both Izra and Ruka were still on the table chatting away, happy to catch up on times they’ve both missed out on. In the midst of their conversation, Izra got a text from April, giving her details about the now planned graduation party they got going for her, except now it turned into a huge one since her other friends/co-workers are also invited, apparently also graduating from school too. With a sigh, Izra put the dates on her phone, seeing multiple events coming up after graduation. “Whoa, that sigh usually means you’re nervous and stressed. What’s the problem?” Ruka asked, already sensing her friend’s stress from across the tables. Sighing again, groaning in the process, Izra explained, “so, remember how I told you I’m graduating? One of my friends and her brothers are planning this huge graduation party but it’s the same day you asked me to come over for Kira’s and Val’s graduation/ceremony party too, which even after that is when I’ll actually catch a break from everything, LITERALLY.” With that said, Izra laid her head on the table, coffee long gone and now stressing about what to do for the issues she had going on. Laughing softly, Ruka patted her head, hoping to help her friend out in any way possible, “so how about this, you asked them what time it starts and whatever time they pick, you can meet us earlier. Think that’ll be fine with them?” Sitting up, Izra looked to Ruka as if she had just grown wings and was an angel sent above, “oh my god, yes that’s genius! I’ll ask when I see them later tonight!” Getting out of the chair, she ran towards Ruka, hugging her while tearfully thanking her, “I missed you so much, no one would’ve gotten it except you. Should’ve tried to find me sooner bitch!” Ruka laughing while hugging her back. Also getting up and throwing away their empty cups, they both stood still, not wanting either one to leave back to their places. 

“So, wanna walk together until we actually have to go back to our places?” Izra shyly asked, not wanting the great time the two just shared together. Smiling softly, Ruka agreed, both continuing the conversation they had on their way back. Once reaching the subway station, Ruka finally asked what had been on her mind, almost hesitating on asking in general “so since you’ve seen Natalie, have you seen Alexis yet?” Hearing the question, it took Izra about a couple of minutes to respond, smiling softly, which surprised Ruka, “yeah, I saw her too. It was Natalie’s idea for us to meet again and oh boy did I get an earful.” Closing her eyes, remembering seeing Alexis for the first time in what felt like forever, but it had only been about two and a half years since seeing each other from home. Opening her eyes, they both went inside the subway cart, as she continued on, “it was brutal, which I understood from her point too. I let her have the moment she deserved, it wasn’t fair what I did to her too,” looking out to where each station was then down to her hands, “but in the end, she did the same thing like what you did. Forgave me.” She sighed, nervously twiddling her fingers, “forgiving me for leaving and not even letting anyone know I was okay. Though it was hard, in the end, the three of us hugged it out, while Fred was waiting for us too, giving me the biggest hug while calling me a loser in the process.” Both chuckled, Izra remembering fondly how her brother-in-law had taken upon himself, while using their cat Aria, to bicker like they used to back home.

Realizing she was almost close to her place, Ruka stood up to get ready to leave, taking Izra’s phone in the process. Confused, Izra waited until Ruka was done, realizing that she was putting her phone number in her phone. “Here, since you apparently upgraded your phone, I added mine again since I also got a new phone just recently.” Happy with the number, Izra exclaimed to Ruka, “I feel so honored. Before you forget, send me your address so I know where to go for whenever you’re not too busy with anything!” Once more, they both shared a hug, letting Ruka leave the cart to head to her house while Izra waits for the next stop to see April and the guys. Getting up, ready to leave from the next stop, she heard her phone ring, signaling a text message was sent to her. Once the subway stopped, Izra stepped off, walking towards the direction of the brother’s home, checking her phone for whoever sent her a text message. Smiling even more, realizing it was from Ruka, all the message read was:

Ruka: I’m really glad I saw you today. Something in me felt like I was going to run into someone & it turned out to be you :) I know it sounds cheesy, but I guess the spirits knew what they were doing apparently lol

Ruka: Also, I didn’t get the chance to say it when we were talking, but I’m proud of you. You look like yourself again & that’s what's most important. I know it must’ve been hard to learn to forgive yourself on your own, but as always, what happened wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of our faults. Everyone is going to be happy and proud of you when they see you again too sweetie! I just know it! <3

Having to stop to finish reading what she sent, Izra almost started crying right there on the spot. Wiping away the pre-tears that threaten to come out, she didn’t realize that Leo and April were on their way to get her, but stopped once they saw Izra fully stopped from walking, almost on the verge of tears. Looking at each other concerningly, having not seen her that way in a long while, walking slowly, with April speaking softly, not wanting to make matters worse, “hey, you okay? Do we have to go beat up someone? Or make a professor cry?” After that was said, Leo spoke up, “making a professor cry? I’ll go get Donnie,” turning around to make his move, before getting stopped by Izra, shaking her head smiling. “Guys, I promise you I’m okay. These are happy almost tears,” Izra said, looking at the two, happy that they were concerned about her wellbeing. 

Making the quick decision to move on before much else was said, the three started making their way over to the projection room where everyone else was. Izra spoke before the two could question her, “do you guys remembered how I mentioned my friends from home? How I thought they couldn’t ever forgive me for leaving?” Confused, but the two nodded in agreement, remembering about a year and a half ago where they had comforted her that day from her guilt and depression. Smiling, she continued, “well, after so long, I ran into one of them from the café I go to before coming over. That’s why I was running a bit late tonight,” she finished, looking down to the ground while continuing their walk over. Surprised by what she just said, Leo was surprisingly the first one to ask, “what happened? I’m going to assume you both reconnected your friendship again seeing from your reaction not 10 minutes ago,” chuckling, Izra nodded her head, looking over at the two, making them stop walking to listen to what she had to say.

“It was…… Amazing. I knew you guys were right from the start that they were going to forgive me, but hearing it today from her felt….. Wonderful. We caught up on so much, we lost track of time, which also leads me to what I need help from you both too,” Squinting his eyes and before he could get a word in, April interrupted, “oh boy, what do you need help with?” She questioned, having the feeling that Izra was going to request anything from them. Hesitantly, Izra started, “well you see, she invited me to her home the day that it’s done being renovated, just a couple of more things to be done to the house and it’ll be complete!” It then turned into rambling, “the only problem is that the day it’ll be done is the day we have my graduation party with your coworkers too and it’s going to be my old friends from home, so we were going to meet up earlier before the party time start and they’re also busy with something else too, but if there was anything else that needed to be done earlier than I’ll gladly help if you guys need me and-” before the rambling could get any worse than it already was, April stopped her, putting both her hands on both shoulders, saving the three of them time and energy from it all. 

“Girl, relax! I’m just happy you’re reuniting with your friends from home! I’m sure the rest of them will understand, well at least Donnie and Raph yes, Mikey however…” April hesitated, thinking about it clearly until Leo joined in, easing both their worries, “don’t worry about Angelo, mis amigas ,” Izra rolled her eyes at that, “I’ll sweeten the deal if it goes awol, but I’m pretty sure he’ll understand for the most part too. Just as long as you could help me with any of them too, guy or gal, y’know how I roll” Leo finished, a quick wink with a smile on his face too, evident that he too was happy for his close friend, going to be seeing her childhood friends again soon. Smiling brightly, happy for the help and support from her close friends, Izra hugged them both. Letting go afterwards, she gave Leo a good smack upside the head, exclaiming how she “was not going to set him up with any of them, no matter what he says!” 

Laughing on the way to where the rest of the Hamato family was, Izra finally felt like she could take on anything now. Especially with the return of her old friends, being with new friends, and hoping both worlds would get along just fine, maybe even be much more closer like she was with April and the brothers. ‘Oh yeah, I think it’s going to be great. I have a good feeling about this,’ thought Izra, before reaching the room to explain her situation, excited to get everyone on board.

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(Prologue: Current: Ch.2)

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hioooo!, I've been thinking if you could write about Laurel's perspective of how little by little she falls completely in love with reader-teacher. One day, the reader does not visit her in the greenhouse, as always happens. Marylin (laurel) worries. She looks for it and finds a reader nearby Long devastated. Someone rejected her and laurel comforts her

Lots of fluff. Please.

Yesss!!! Here it is!!!! I hope you like it!!! Sorry about the delay and the language mistakes!!! :)))))

I can't love an outcast (but I do)

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem Teacher! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, slightly smut mentions (implied), Laurel’s POV

Word count: 6,470

Summary: I’m Laurel Gates, but she doesn’t know it, I love her, but she’s an outcast, it’s supposed to be forbidden…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

The alarm clock rings and another day begins. I get out of bed, take a shower and look myself in the mirror. Getting psyched up for another insufferable day teaching those monsters was getting easier. I only have to think that soon it will end, that they will disappear.

When Larissa Weems hired me to teach at Nevermore it was a relief and a disgrace. Inside the school things would be much easier, but also stressful. Every day I live with all my enemies, with people who were involved in my brother’s death, in my family’s death. Weems herself witnessed his murder, and here I am, ready to make all outcasts pay for her unforgivable mistakes. I know it's a matter of time, I just have to hold on for one more day, one more week.

It hasn't been hard to fool everyone. They don't seem to care about anything about other things than themselves. I feel like a kind of test, a test to see if normies and outcasts can really live in peace. No, I don’t think so. When Larissa explained to me how good it was that I was there, I could see a pathetic attempt to cleanse her reputation, to put Nevermore as some kind of coexistence paradise.

I don't mind being the only normie on staff. The dismissive looks and inappropriate comments from the rest of the teachers only fuel my thirst for revenge, my desire to see them all burn.

In the mirror there is only a blurred reflection of what I really am. Marilyn Thornhill, the sweet and innocent botany teacher. Everyone treats me like an idiot, but that's because they don't know what I'm capable of, that just means I've done a good job. In the mirror I see Marilyn Thornhill, the poor little orphan girl who some people found wandering in the woods. But I know that I can never be Marilyn Thornhill, because I’m Laurel Gates.

I leave my room and start walking through the halls, oblivious to the looks of contempt from what were supposed to be my co-workers. I will never understand why they think I’m an intruder, an enemy. They are evil, they were born of sin, they only serve to harm. They believe their very existence is a miracle, a divinely bestowed power from some kind of mighty god.

They were just lies and falsehoods invented in order to explain their own existence. I know it, they don't.

Students disgust me, they feel immune, victims of a system that doesn't want them. Perhaps if I told them about my childhood they would realize that they are the executioners, that they are the ones who cause suffering. I can't do it, I'm just Marilyn Thornhill. When the bell rings, the class ends and I can finally breathe.

I have a plan, one that I've been thinking about for over ten years, when I decided that revenge was the right thing to do, that it's what my father would want, what my mother would want, just like my brother. Debating with myself about whether it is what I truly want was a matter of seconds. "Duty is not questioned, it’s fulfilled," my father used to say.

Once the conservatory is empty, I can start working. I have spent half my life studying plants, I was always an exemplary student, the best young scientist in the town where my adoptive parents raised me.

Knowledge is might, and with that I could make my dreams come true. I already knew where to find it, the essential tool I need to resurrect my ancestor. He’s going to be the purger of all that scum. I don't like getting my hands dirty, that's why the Hyde idea was the best one.

Unlocking it was going to be tricky, but not impossible. That boy, Tyler Galpin, was perfect for it.

“Hello, hello, hello,” a voice that came from the door interrupted me.

It was not a student who had forgotten his belongings, but one of my co-workers, (Y/N). She was the young literature teacher, and an absolute pain in the ass.

“(Y/N)…” I answer, with a hand on my chest. She always had a habit of turning up in the conservatory by surprise. As much as I knew, I've never gotten used to it.

“Hey, Marilyn, how about the beasts? Did they behave well?” She asks, with that damn smile.

I smile, I can't do anything else, I'm Marilyn Thornhill.

“As always, at least today I've been able to talk for more than five minutes without interruptions,” I say, setting aside the chemical that would make the sheriff's son obey my orders.

She laughs, like always, and she watches what I'm doing curiously.

“What are you doing? Homemade tea?” Funny question.

I don't understand how such a happy person can exist in that horrible place. (Y/N) is not like the other teachers, she is full of vitality.

There has to be an exception, and in this case, the exception was (Y/N). From the first day she came to Nevermore, she was interested on me. She is not like the other teachers. It seems that she didn’t care about my normi condition. It was strange, that girl was strange.

She came to the conservatory everyday to chat about classes, or about personal stuff. She seemed to have no filter, maybe she was just a confident girl.

I don't prefer the contempt of the other teachers, but her attitude wasn’t good to me. She’s beautiful, the most beautiful girl I have ever met. She is funny, smart, cheerful...

Under normal circumstances all those attributes were good ones. But I'm on Nevermore she's an outcast, and I'm Laurel Gates. That she was that way just made me feel weird. I'm not made of stone and I always liked girls. But she couldn't attract me, she was an outcast.

My heart pounds when she appears, contradicting my own thoughts. If she's not there, it's easy for me to dream of the destruction of that abomination of an academy, of seeing the faces of all the outcasts screaming in horror, of seeing my ancestor taking revenge on everyone, of avenging my family.

If she is present, those thoughts become complicated. My head is not capable of imagining her face terrified. At first it was just a fleeting thought, now (Y/N) is able to distract me so much that I even forget who I am.

“Well, you can make tea with this, but I don't guarantee that you will continue to keep your eyesight,” I say amused. She nodded, waiting for me to tell her what I was doing. She was always insistent, she wanted to know everything. “It's for the aphids plague,” I'm lying. She is too innocent, she believes everything I say to her.

“Oh… Okay…” she sighs with a mocking tone. I raise my eyebrows and smile, removing my gloves.

“How are you? Did you get them to read Beowulf?” I ask, pretending to be interested in her. At least I'm holding on to the belief that I'm really pretending. Pretending to be pretending is a mental storm which makes me feel dizzy.

She sighs, leaning against my desk and shaking her head.

“Only two have read it, the rest have said that they preferred to watch the movie. You know, they do whatever it takes to see someone naked on TV,” she answers amused. I let myself go and laughed sincerely, leaning next to her.

“Teenagers,” I say, sighing too. She looks at me and nods effusively.

“Were we so obsessed with sex at their age?” (Y/N) asks. That kind of conversation made me somewhat uncomfortable. (Y/N) always said what was on her mind. I know I shouldn't worry, or start shaking at those words, but I do, my body is weak.

I open my mouth to say something, but I don't quite know what. Joking has always been an easy way out for me.

“I don't know, you're closer to their age... Maybe you can have a better point of view...” I say with a mocking tone, giving her a nudge and taking the tray with the herbs out of her reach. I know she doesn't have a clue about botany, but it's better not to take risks.

“Hey!” She protested. I smile, knowing that this was going to be her reaction. “Well, I guess you're right…” She sighed, bowing her head. “I can confirm that I'm not like that, I don't know how long I've been without...”

“Well, well, I don't need to know, (Y/N),” I say, preventing her from saying something that would make me even more nervous. She smiles mischievously, she knows that those conversations aren't my favorites. It's not that I don't like talking about sex, but with her I feel incapable, I start to sweat and my thoughts get confused, imagining aberrations that would never happen.

“Hey, Mari, I have a plan that you can't refuse for tonight,” she says, radically changing the subject. I cover the plants with a cloth and look at her with interest and a little fear.

“A plan?” I ask, crossing my arms.

(Y/N) always had a plan, something to do together. Having coffee in Jericho (which is especially useful for me when analyzing Tyler), watching a movie in her room, or sitting on the roof drinking a bottle of wine, usually looted from the principal's office.

I can't say I don't like those moments, in fact, I wish they would happen. The problem is that laughter and alcohol make me forget what my duty is, what purpose I have. My mind is clouded when I'm alone with her, talking, laughing, and drinking. We have so many things in common that, even seeing how she uses her ice powers, I doubt she's an outcast. If she really is, why do I think she's just an ordinary girl? Why don't I see evil in her actions? That only happens to me when I’m with her, no one in the academy can make me forget what they are, and what I am. Only (Y/N) can.

(Y/N) reaches into her bag pulling out what looks like a videotape. I frown and take it from her, looking at it curiously.

“Is that a VHS?” I ask, hiding my laughter. She nods amused.

“Yeah, oh, sorry, I forgot that in your time they didn't exist yet,” she says, mocking. Well played, (Y/N), you always know how to counterattack.

“How funny you are, aren't you?” I answer, causing her to stick out her tongue in amusement and wink at me. “Planet of the Apes?”

“Yes, it’s one of the cinema’s masterpieces. I thought you might like to watch it with some popcorn, we can even order some sandwiches at Andy's and skip the dining room. Really, if I hear those beasts yelling again while I'm eating, I don't know what I would do…” (Y/N) answers.

I shake my head slowly, agreeing with her. She wasn't the only one having such thoughts.

“And besides…” she says, putting her hand back into her bag. “Tadaaa… Haverst of 84,” she says, showing me a dusty bottle of wine.

“Oh, my God, (Y/N), don't tell me where you got it from,” I say amused, imagining the answer.

“Come on, try it,” she says excitedly, waving her arms.

She is sometimes so childish, and other times so adult. She is in the limbo of maturity. She surely is not clear what her future would be. I know what it would be, and it's not a good one. Thinking about it should make me smile, enjoy the ignorance of those poor fools. But with her I can't do it, I can't think straight when she's next to me, with that damn smile.

That's a very bad thing, something I've been avoiding ever since I met her. Sometimes I wish she was just another stupid outcast, that she ignored me, that she didn't even know my name. Many of the teachers don't even know my name, but no one really does. My name is not Marilyn Thornhill, my name is Laurel Gates, and you are all going to die.

But I can’t do it. My thoughts are unable to ignore her looks, her smiles... It can't be anything more than simple curiosity or interest. I have been fighting against my heart for a long time, silencing the screams that keep me awake at night, when I dream of her. No, I don't love her, I haven't fallen in love with that silly girl. It is impossible, something unacceptable, a sin with terrible consequences.

“Let's see…” I say, pretending to think of an answer.

“Come on, come on, tick tock,” she says impatiently. Is she never going to stop putting on that smile?

“Weems’s office,” I say, sure of what I say. She stops smiling and her face becomes that of a little girl, almost pouting.

“You're always right…” she sighs, picking up her bottle again and putting it in her bag.

“Because you always steal Weems's wine. If she catches you, rest assured that you'll be left without a salary,” I say amused, patting her on the shoulder.

“Oh… is she going to freeze my salary? You get it, freeze… Badum tss…” She says, moving her fingers, emphasizing her pathetic joke.

I laugh without feeling like it, but the more I think about it, the more funny it makes me. She doesn't have the power of ice, she has the power to make people laugh, to make people feel good next to her. Yes, it has to be that, that's the reason for my ramblings. She's an outcast, and she uses her charms to persuade people, just like that girl did to Garrett.

“You're the queen of comedy, (Y/N),” I say laughing, trying to pretend that her joke didn't make me so funny.

“So? Do you want a night of classic movies and some insane barbecue sandwiches?” She asks enthusiastically. I think so, I really think so. Laurel Gates' answer was always a resounding no. But now I'm not Laurel, I'm Marilyn, and she would always say yes.

“Sounds good to me, (Y/N), but I don't want us to stay up all night like last time. It's hard to handle poisonous plants when you're sleepy,” I say, with a warning face. She smiles and nods.

I don't know what I'm thinking. Fraternizing with the outcasts was a red line for me. Their hatred and their resentment towards me was the perfect excuse to live a solitary life in Nevermore, so no one would pry into my affairs. Naturally, (Y/N) was not in my plans.

What am I doing?

The sound of the video running brings back memories to me. Memories of when I was just a happy and studious girl. The pride of Ansel and Nora Gates. I remember watching movies with my brother, when we were just kids. But not everything was happiness. My brother used to turn up the volume when he heard my parents screaming downstairs.

My parents often yelled at each other, I never knew why, until Garrett was old enough to do "what he was supposed to do." Then everything changed. Movie nights ended and they were replaced by fanatical sermons from my father. In them he made us see the danger represented by the outcasts, the injustice they committed with our family. I didn't think things were as dire as my father wanted us to see, until Garrett died. Then I saw it clearly. He was right, the outcasts had to disappear.

“Here, your double of meat with salad,” (Y / N) tells me, taking a sandwich out of a bag, while the movie began.

“Where's the salad?” I ask, looking at the food and thinking about my health.

“Oh, I think I saw a piece of lettuce at the bottom of the bag, wait a minute,” (Y/N) says, reaching into the bag. I gesture for her to stop her disgusting feat.

“Okay, okay, it doesn't matter,” I say amused. She shrugs, and finally, silence falls.

It could be another night like others, but there was something different. (Y/N) was as usual. I know that she is an inveterate cinephile, and she takes advantage of any situation to tell me some curious fact about the film. That was always so. Also her erratic and disastrous way of eating and drinking, as if she had been starving for a month. I should find it disgusting, worthy of what is expected of an outcast. But I smiled when I saw her, her nonsense amuses me, I’m enthralled with her gaze.

I can't stop thinking that there was nothing different that night, that it was simply me who had changed. My body is touching hers and that no longer made me nervous, I felt comfortable next to her.

A sob interrupted my ramblings. (Y/N) had tears in her eyes. I look at her confused.

“(Y/N)? Are you crying?” I ask with a certain tone of irony in my voice.

She wipes away her tears and shakes her head.

“No,” she answers with a sob. “Well, yes… It's just that the main character's love story is so beautiful…”

I look at her strangely.

“You mean the relationship with the slave?”

“Don't you think it's super romantic? She doesn't even know how to talk, but she still loves him. Can't you see, Mari? They are from completely different worlds but the love is the same…”

I open my eyes wide. I don't want to get into a debate about love stories in movies. My mind is too busy fighting with love.

“Actually, they are in the same world, (Y/N),” I say funny. She crosses her arms with a smile.

“Great, Mrs. spoiling movies, thank you very much,” she says, pretending she didn't know the ending.

“How many times have you watched that movie?” I ask, taking a sip from my glass of wine.

(Y/N) looks at the television, as if she was waiting for something.

“I can't count them, but…” She says, getting up from the sofa. “Oh my God... I'm home... I'm back...” She begins to say, synchronizing with Charlton Heston’s voice. “I have returned to my home… I was at home the whole time… So they finally managed to do it… You maniacs! They blew it all up! You maniacs! Go to hell! Does that serve as proof?

I look at her and laugh at her interpretation, closing my eyes. She is silly, childish, cheeky, but so funny. I wonder what a life would be like with her constant jokes, her jokes and her smile. What it would be like to wake up every morning and see that smile in my bed, next to me. I shake my head, embarrassed by those thoughts that flashed through my mind.

She sits down again, as the credits begin to appear on the screen.

“Well, as I was saying…” She says, sighing, exhausted by such a dramatic performance. “It’s not that they are not from the same planet, Mari, but that within the same planet, they belong to totally different worlds.”

I listen to her with interest. I want to know what she is talking about.

“What I want to say is that… Well, do you think that love can arise between two totally different people?”

The million dollar question. It might seem like a hint, since she looks at me almost without blinking. I can't find the answer. I have always been in love, but never with someone so different, someone forbidden to me, my enemy, the reason of my miserable life.

“I don't think so, (Y/N), surely the differences seem absurd, but in the long run they only create problems.” That is my cold and meaningless response. To agree with her would mean accepting my feelings, accepting that I like her, that I’m in love with her.

Denying it is nonsense. I've been repressing those feelings for a long time, pretending that I don't think about her at night, that I don't say her name when I caress myself. It's just a passing sin, or so I think, but the idea of her unconditional love opened a very deep hole in my barrier, a barrier that stood firm, overshadowing any feeling that wasn't hatred towards her.

She no longer smiles, her gaze drops to the floor and then I realize the mistake I've made. If it wasn't a hint, maybe it was a doubt she had due to her youth. She will suffer the same fate as all outcasts, but in the bottom of my heart, it pains me to have let her down.

“Well… I guess you're right…” She says, getting up to turn off the video.

I look at her and notice her lack of a smile. It should amuse me, but no. Seeing her sad confuses me, makes me feel bad, guilty.

Back in my room I keep reflecting. Everything is ready, the serum for Tyler is ready. All my plan is about to start, but I don't think about it. I think about (Y/N), about how an outcast makes my nights an ordeal. She is an outcast, a monster born of sin.

I wasn't a novice when it came to loving an outcast. My brother Garrett fell into the same trap. That girl, Morticia, had him crazy. He was no longer the same. My father would beat him and yell at him for being soft, for having fallen into what he called demonic temptation.

He was only 17 years old, but for my father thought he was already a man capable of fulfilling his duty. The punishment for falling in love with an outcast was not whipping with the belt, not a week of punishment in the dark closet, but something much worse. He would have to be the one to finish off the outcasts, he would kill the girl he was in love with.

I can't think of a worse punishment. But once again, love was to blame for his misfortune. He only had to do one thing, poison the punch. An easy task in my opinion. If I had been older, I would not have hesitated. Of course I didn't feel anything for an outcast, as he did.

Instead of carrying out my father's orders, he went to kill his enemy, this Gomez guy, Morticia's boyfriend. That led her to his death. Love only served to confirm the innate wickedness of the outcasts. They were not capable of loving, only of harming. I should have learned that lesson, but little by little, I've been falling into the same trap.

I feel love for (Y/N), and less and less anger. I wish I hadn't met her, I wish I didn't make the same mistakes as Garrett made.

The days are passing and I’m beginning to accept my feelings. She seems a bit more distant. I wonder if that's because of the comment I made that night. Deep down it's still the same, but she doesn't get so close anymore, as if she were afraid of me. She should was, of course, she wasn't talking to Marilyn Thornhill, she was talking to Laurel Gates.

It's seven in the evening and there's no sign of (Y/N). I move around in the conservatory, watering the plants, reading some of the students' works... But she doesn't appear.

She can't be mad at me, I'm the one who's mad at her for making me feel love for an outcast. Still she worries me. A habit as common as going to chat in the conservatory was something that I already took for granted. I don't understand why she doesn't come, and above all, why I'm mad about it.

I jerk, bang my fists on the table. I'm nervous. I don't understand what I feel, I don't understand why I want her to come to talk to me, why I want so much to see that smile, why I'm so crazy about her.

An hour has passed and (Y/N) has not come. I can't wait any longer, I must accept that the outcasts will always play with you. Once I have accepted that I love her, she has moved on from me. I wonder if Garrett went through the same thing.

Maybe my father was right after all.

I close the conservatory door and go into Nevermore’s building. I want to forget everything that has happened and get used to the idea that this foolish crush has only been a temporary temptation, an attempt by the outcasts to dominate me and subjugate me to their charms. Typical of them.

I go down to the library, I have to look for necessary information for my plan. I try to keep my legs from shaking and my hand from picking up the phone and writing her a message. The room is empty, but a sob scares me, catches my attention. It directed me to the source of the sound to make a disturbing discovery.

(Y/N) was there, sitting at a table, discreetly crying. I look at her, she still hasn't noticed my presence. Seeing an outcast crying should be pleasurable, but it wasn't. It was painful, my whole body trembled and my chest contracted.

“(Y/N)?” I ask whispering. She looks at me with teary eyes, but she looks away.

“Mari…” She whispers. “Go away, I want to be alone,” she tells me. I frown, but I ignore her, I go to sit next to her.

“What's wrong ?” I ask with the purest innocence. It's Marilyn who asks, not Laurel.

“Nothing,” she says. She is lying to me, I know.

“You don’t know how to lie,” I say smiling. She also smiles and nods.

“I had a date…” She says, looking around her in case there were any unwanted ears.

My soul collapses in that instant. She has been on a date, with someone else. Definitive proof that she was just playing with me, even without realizing it. Poor things, they can't help it.

“A…? A date?” I ask, my voice shaking and fighting the rage building inside me.

“Do you remember Mindy? The girl from Jericho…” She tells me. I nod. According to (Y/N), Mindy was a waitress who seemed to have generated an interest on her. But she told me that she didn't like her. Now I don't understand anything.

“What happened?” I ask again, clenching my fists tightly under the table.

“Well, I told her that I wouldn't mind if we tried it and the stupid girl tells me that I've been confused, that she only wants us to be friends,” (Y/N) says, sobbing.

The pain I feel at this moment prevents me from seeing things as the way they are. She didn't feel anything for me, and probably she never did. I was so convinced that there was something between us, partly because of that I didn't feel so guilty for loving her. My hatred for outcasts grows to the point where I wants to have a button to kill them all in that instant. But no, I have to remember who I am. Marilyn Thornhill, not Laurel Gates. Marilyn Thornhill is good, Marilyn Thornhill is not in love with (Y/N), or so I think.

“Oh, honey…” I say, hugging her lazily, feeling how contact with her body was not a good remedy against my disease. “I didn't know you had feelings for her...”

“Well, it's not like I have feelings… It's just…” She says, holding on to my clothes, resting her head on my shoulder. She hugs me out, soaks my clothes with her tears. It is not pleasant to see her suffer, it is heartbreaking.

“Is it just what…?” I insist. I want to know why that stupid Mindy was so important to her. I need to know, it's something I'll remember when Crackstone is resurrected.

“I thought there might be someone who loved me, who felt something for me, but now I see that no. I don't understand why no one likes me...”

I open her eyes as I rub her back.

“That's nonsense, (Y/N),” I say involuntarily, cupping her face with my hands, looking directly into those beautiful eyes. “Listen to me, you are a pretty, smart, funny girl. If that Mindy doesn't love you, she's losing it. I’m convinced that there are a lot of much better girls wanting to have something with you,” I say with a smile. Inside I'm dying, but not me, but Laurel Gates. Marilyn Thornhill is good, understanding, she is not a murderer, she is not a woman who has lost her mind over an outcast.

“Do you think so?” She says, sobbing, letting my hand caress her cheek. I feel her tears on my skin and they don't burn, it's not acidic, as my mother used to say to scare me. They are real tears.

I nod, pulling her back into a hug. I can't help but close my eyes and feel guilty for believing that her body’s heat is pleasant. She cries inconsolably, not letting me go, just saying stupid things, like she'll never find love, or that she's ugly. Stupid outcast, you're devilishly beautiful.

The time she was crying on my shoulder flew by like a rush of air. Soon her movements changed, shaking her body and… Laughing?

“(Y/N)?” I ask surprised, moving away from her a bit. Yes, she was laughing out loud. I look at her blinking rapidly. Now I'm confused, I admit it. “But hey, can you tell what makes you so funny?” I ask somewhat annoyed by that change of attitude.

“It's that if you knew…” She says, stopping laughing, with tears in her eyes. “I'm not crying for Mindy, Marilyn, I'm crying because she wasn't the indicated one…”

“The indicated one? Indicated for what?”

“To forget about you!”  She shouts nervously. I step back, open my eyes. I’m speechless.

“About me?” I ask, feeling a lot of emotions building up in my guts.

“Yeah, fuck!” She snaps. She seems angry with me, and I don't know why. “I like you since the day I arrived at Nevermore!”

It wasn't a tender confession of love, it was a desperate cry, a call for attention.

“Didn't you realize it?” She asks, pushing me angrily. “I'm in love with you, Marilyn, I don't care to say it, since I know you would never be able to reciprocate.”

“But, but…” I say, almost out of breath. That was not the direction the conversation should take. She shouldn't feel anything for me. She was just playing with me, tricking me with her cheating and outcast machinations. She couldn't feel love, she couldn't feel anything, I knew it, my parents knew it.

“You idiot…” She says quietly. I lower my eyebrows, not because of the insult, but because of that unexpected revelation. Outcasts didn't love, she had to be lying and I'm willing to find out how.

“But, (Y/N), I, I'm older than you… I couldn't imagine that…” I say, overwhelmed by that information. I cannot tell her that I am Laurel Gates, that my family and my duty prevent me from loving her, because they could not. I love her, much to my regret.

“Is an age thing? Or is it that I’m an outcast and you are normi?” She asks, getting up from the table. She is very nervous, it starts to get cold in the library. “You said it the other day, different worlds cannot come together, you made it very clear to me.” The question on the movie day was serious, she was testing me. I don't know if I feel relief or discomfort.

“(Y/N), calm down, let's talk things over,” I say, moving my arms up and down. She turns and has her back to me. She must have been feeling a terrible shame, but she was firm in her words. She wasn't lying, she wasn't trying to fool me.

My world began to blur and my legs moved by themselves. I walk towards her, sighing, feeling a strange emotion. I lift my arm and put a hand on her shoulder, turning her around so I could look into her eyes.

(Y/N) cried, sobbed, but she didn’t take her eyes off me. I bring my hand to her cheek, wiping a tear from her face. I don't talk, I don't say anything, I just struggle to breathe. Having her so close to me overwhelms me, overwhelms my senses and nullifies my thoughts, my conscience and all my values.

I will not have another opportunity to find out, to know if her lips are fire, if my skin would burn to make contact with hers. She is beautiful, I’m an idiot. I sigh, moving closer to her until I feel her ragged breathing. She looks at me and I close my eyes. My lips kiss hers and nothing happens. I'm not burning, I'm just shaking.

I've been trying to suppress these images in my head for so long that I couldn't imagine feeling this good. Her lips are soft, tender. Her hands go directly to my waist, hugging me, preventing me from moving away from her. I don't want to do it either.

I caress her, looking at her with pity, but not for her, but for me. I have fallen into her trap. I'm kissing my enemy and I like it, it just confirms how in love I’m with her.

The kisses deepen and she stops crying to smile against my lips. I smile too, enjoying her kisses. She kissed me slowly, enjoying the sensation. I let myself to be caressed, I hug her, I kiss her neck, I run my hands over her chest...

(Y/N) pulls away, looking at me lovingly, like she's feeling the same thing I am.

“I love you…” She whispers in my ear. Her happiness is evident, her radiant smile and her increasingly effusive kisses. She loves me, now I know. I love her, and I've always known it. There were no ghosts in my thoughts, no Ansel Gates yelling, threatening, forcing me to hate her. It's just her and me, no one else, no witness to my profane act, to my loss of judgment.

I nod and look at her closely. Up close she is even more beautiful, more tempting. At that moment there is no Laurel Gates, she does not love Laurel Gates. Her hand moves down to mine and she drags me toward the stairs.

I don't say anything, she doesn't say anything.

We walk through the halls, dodging students, teachers, and kissing at every corner. I didn’t know the destination, but she did. The door to her room creaked open and the slam resounded throughout the school.

There was no reason to hold back anymore. I had already sinned, there was no solution.

I go crazy with her kisses, with her caresses. Her gasps intensifying as she removes her clothing. I admire her body as if it were that of a goddess, that of a divine being. She wasn't, she was the devil, an evil creature.

I pray for her bed breaks when we both fall into it. I dream that somehow something would interrupt our passion. I couldn't stop kissing her any other way. Her kisses were addictive, her touch was hot and her gasps kept me steady in what I was doing.

There was no hate, no rancor, just love, just desire.

There were no explanations, only moans, kisses, hugs.

I feel guilty when my kisses cover her chest, her stomach, her belly…” She moans, moves, growls, screams. She's releasing a tension I didn't know existed, a desire I wasn't supposed to have.

I no longer listen to the voices in my head, the ones that threaten me with a punishment from God. I only have her body under me, away from it there is nothing, nothing that makes me change my mind.

I moan when she touches me, like my skin really burns from her touch. It's a nice, cozy, warmth. Desire had gotten out of control. I no longer had my plan in my mind, I just wanted to be inside her, and her to be inside me.

We both scream, kiss, and finally collapse on the bed. She hugs me, she lies on my chest. I wrap my arms around her, hold her tight against me. I don't want her to leave, I don't want to stop feeling her body.

It hadn't even been ten minutes and (Y/N) had already fallen asleep. It must have been a difficult day for her, and I don't blame her, mine had been even worse.

An unconscious fear begins to invade me. I'm afraid of burning, of consuming myself right there for my sins. I tremble and hug (Y/N) even tighter, closing my eyes, waiting for a punishment that never came.

I feel stupid, but still I can't help but think that this could have consequences. It was like those people who don't believe that an evil entity appears in your bathroom at night when you say its name three times, but still refuses to do so. It was the same feeling.

Nothing happens. There is no divine punishment. I sigh and look at the sleeping (Y/N). Her face is peaceful, calm. There are no regrets, no guilt. She is free because she is (Y/N), she is not Laurel Gates.

I need to refresh myself, clarify my ideas. I get up, careful not to wake her up, and go to the bathroom. I turn on the faucet and stare at the water. My mind is blank, I’m unable to think of anything else than her.

I had gone to Nevermore for revenge, with a specific purpose, to kill all the outcasts. That includes her, that's for sure. I can't help but have doubts, feel like I'm not doing the right thing. That I could lose her even if I saved her life. No, she could never love Laurel Gates.

I still have time to disobey my family's orders. I've been postponing the Hyde stuff for several days, always with poor and meaningless excuses.

I turn off the faucet and sigh, leaning over the sink. There is no answer in my thoughts, just love, just pity, compassion and redemption.

I look in the mirror and finally realize it. (Y/N) loves me, but she doesn't love Laurel Gates. I love her, being Marilyn, being Laurel, that doesn't matter, what matters is that she loves Marilyn. The small detail is that I want to kill them. There's no difference between Marilyn and Laurel. But, the more I look in the mirror, the clearer I have my decision. I no longer see Laurel Gates in the reflection, I only see Marilyn Thornhill.

[seriesxwriting]

We’re locked in forever

W Dean Winchester<3

Series- supernatural

Warnings- vampire killing (beheading, machete use, fighting, blood) swearing, kissing, arguing.

Summary- Dean won’t let you come out on a hunt and you start an argument because of it. Over thinking the worst you sneak out the bunker to help the Winchesters. And save your boyfriends ass.

“Y/n your not coming on the hunt- how many times” Dean shook his head at me seriously picking up his machete and placing it in his bag. I folded my arms scowling at him. “No means no your not going to change my mind” Dean stopped putting everything back down giving me his full attention.

“Your being ridiculous! I’ve watched you guys hunting for months- I’ve been in fights I know what I’m doing” I argued back at him. “You’ve never been on a hunt how can you know what your doing” he half laughed. “Are you seriously laughing right now”. Dean stopped laughing and looked like he regretted it. Sam giggled at his brother in the background. I whipped around frowning at Sam. “Are you going to back me up then?” I questioned. “I’m not getting involved in relationship drama” he shook his head holding his hands up in defence. I rolled my eyes looking back at my boyfriend.

“I will take you hunting but not today y/n, can you please just stay at the bunker and stop making this hard” Dean begged me with his eyes. “But it’s dangerous- you need all the help you can get” “cas is meeting us there” Dean picked up his bag putting it on his back. “Great so now your choosing cas over me” “cas will heal you won’t” Sam told me as he walked past. “Stay out of this Sam” me and Dean snapped at him at the exact same time. “We don’t need or want the help so your staying here” Dean told me getting pissed off now. I rolled my eyes again and left the room with tears in my eyes. I know I know! Crying over a little argument like that is pointless. It wasn’t just that, Dean never trusted me with anything supernatural. It’s like he doesn’t think I’m strong enough, smart enough, good enough.

It’s so draining when all I want to do is help out. I know he gets stressed about a lot of things supernatural based and me arguing with him isn’t going to solve anything. But I didn’t understand why he shuts me out. I sat on our bed like I always did when he went out and I wasn’t sure if he was going to return. I told myself- he’s a good hunter, and he has Sam and cas. But I’d feel better if I was with him. The paranoia crept over me as I deeply thought about the last things we said to each other. What if these were his last moments? I couldn’t let him die and I definitely couldn’t let him leave me on bad terms.

I got myself standing bravely, shoving up deans side of the mattress revealing not only a hand gun but a machete. A stained red machete but still, just what I needed. I reached for it holding it in my hands for a second swinging it a few times, just getting a feel for it again. and then ran about the rooms to collect everything I needed for my surprise appearance. I picked up the gun that Sam gave me when I finally moved in with them.

Dean never usually let me go near weapons unless we were training together. Ensuring the gun was full and the safety was on I then left mine and deans room. With that I left the bunker and closed the door shut behind me, making my way up to my car. I put my belonging on the seat next to me while placing my gun in my belt so it was close. The bullets I took were coated in dead man’s blood. Perfect for a vamp nest. Then using my phone maps I typed in the location and set off on my way. Dean was going to be pissed but I had to stand up for myself.

-Sam and Dean-

“Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Sam raised an eyebrow leaning back in his chair comfortably. “No” Dean replied coldly. “Come on Dean, you know she’s ready why don’t you just give her a chance” “it’s really none of your business Sammy, so stay out of it” Dean rolled his eyes getting tired off the conversation. “I’m just saying if you don’t include her she’s going to get annoyed that your pushing her away”

“Would you take your girlfriend to this hunt?” Dean looked at his brother, frustrated. “ it’s not about that- you lied to y/n again, you’ve said that you’ll take her on hunts when everyone knows your not planning to” “SAM JUST- just stop” Dean came to a holt a little bit away from a building. “What don’t you get about the fact I don’t want to talk about it- she’s my girlfriend and I’ll handle the situation how ever I want” he scowled before jumping out of the car in a fit of rage.

“Okay fine but calm down- you go in there angry you’ll get yourself killed” Sam warned walking round to the boot which Dean had already flung open and was rooting around in. “Whatever, let’s just get this over and done with” he blanked Sam completely while gripping the machete in his right hand and hiding his gun in the back of his belt. Sam exhaled a deep breath watching Dean striding towards the danger ahead. “Dean wait!” He called out feeling almost guilty now. He’d said he wasn’t going to get involved.

Dean kicked open the wooden door of the barn and walked in like he owned the place. “Anyone home?” He yelled just as Sam caught up with him. “Dean!” Sam hissed wide eyed. But Dean completely ignored him. When no one came out sam began to walk forward while Dean scanned the room. All of a sudden Sam fell though the wooden floor into some sort of pit. “SAMMY” Dean yelled racing towards the side. He looked as if he’d hit his head, there was blood on the side.

Vampires now started to walk through the door. There was ten of them. or maybe more at second glance, all grinning at the elder Winchester brother. “We heard the winchesters were after us, wasn’t going to make it easy” one of them voiced putting a hand on her hip. Dean frowned at the group and lifted up his knife. “I’m not going to make this easy either”. With that line, the group of vampires all sprung to action lunging, growling at Dean showing their sharpe, white fangs. He slashed through them while Sammy laid knocked out in the pit and Cas was nowhere to be seen. Dean had manage to behead over half of them but now they were starting to corner him. He was grabbed by a snapping vampire and another one was coming behind him when I arrived.

I slashed the machete watching the read roll to the floor. Once Dean had finished with the provoking vamp grabbing at the front of him, he spun around gawping at me. “Always watch your back Dean, do you not know anything about hunting” I smirked feeling quite proud of myself for stepping up. “Duck!” I shouted at him and he instantly listened. I swung the blade over his head hitting the vamp in the right spot decapitating it. “I told you to stay at the bunker” my boyfriend sarcastically spoke while he continued to fight the vampires. He left only two, he claimed the man and I went after the woman pulling her hair and dragging her backwards over my leg and using my right hand to cut off her head. I saw Dean was physically fighting the vampire now and had dropped his weapon. “Dean!” I squealed distracting them both and chucking my machete on him. In one swift movement he removed the head off the vampire.

Panting he dropped the knife and looked over at me, covered in vampire blood. “I know you angry…” I trailed off when he didn’t say anything. “I just got worried- what if something went wrong and the last thing I said to you was…” as I was talking Dean walked over to me. He looked down at my tear full eyes and melted into a hug. I blinked into his chest shocked at his move, it wasn’t like Dean to just hug an argument out. Especially when I disobeyed something he was so serious about.

“I need to get Sammy and then we can talk okay” he whispered kissing my head. “Okay- wait where is Sam?” I quizzed looking around playing with deans hand in mine. He gently pulled me over to the a pit in the middle of the room. I looked down in horror swing Sam stirring. “Oh my god” I gasped covering my mouth staring at the dead humans the vampires had stacked in one of the corners. Right next to where Sam had fallen. “Sam” Dean called down to him looking quite worried.

“What- the hell happened” Sam groaned rolling onto his side and moving his hand to his head feeling the blood. “You fell in a hole and knocked yourself out you dumbass” dean chuckled leaning over and putting his hand out to his brother. “Y/n? When did you get here” Sam asked standing up wobbling slightly. “Uh- a few minutes ago- are you okay?” I worriedly frowned. “Yeah yeah” he nodded grabbing deans hand. Like the hulk Dean pulled sammy out of the pit. God he was hot. “Hey” i weakly smiled hugging him. “I’m glad your here” Sam whispered rubbing my back.

In that moment Cas ran through the doors looking ready for a fight. “Right on time cas” dean rolled his eyes, signalling at all the dead vamps on the floor. “they- they had me tied up” he pointed outside. “You were tied up- by vampires? Did you forget your an angel for a second” “well- they got the drop on me” cas blinked trying to explain himself. “Leave him alone dean, I had to save your ass” I shoved him gently, smirking cheekily. “I mean- i could have done it” Dean shrugged looking at the floor. “Uh huh” i hummed with a little grin. Dean pulled me under his arm kissing my head “come on, we need to talk” he told me leading me out of the barn, leaving Sam and cas to catch up. Dean stopped when we got outside his car.

“I…” sean started letting his eyes drop to the floor. He smiled to himself not exactly knowing what to say. The Winchester pulled me closer to him by my hips. “I’ve never done this- before” he shook his head speaking to me softly. “I don’t want to ruin what we have but I can’t lose you and- I can’t protect you if I’m busy- when we’re out here you can’t be my priority and I don’t like that I’m not comfortable with that” Dean explained to me clearly upset about the situation at hand. “Dean you don’t…” “…please y/n just let me get it all out I need to explain it correctly” “okay” I nodded reaching up to his neck looking into his eyes. “I trust You I respect you but I’ve lost so many people y/n so if I have to piss you off to keep you safe…” he trailed off but I understood the gist.

“Dean, I can’t sit at home and wait for you to come back anymore everything you’ve said is completely valid but I feel the same way, how can I look out for you if you don’t include me” I asked him seriously in a calm manner not wanting an argument. “Y/n i don’t need looking out for im used to this, your not” Dean reminded me. “You’ve got to stop saying that to me- I’ve been taught by the best, the unstoppable Winchester brothers” I smiled lightly. “Are you trying to sweet talk me” Dean laughed a little. “Depends- is it working?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Maybe A little” dean shrugged growing a little grin. “Dean- you saw I was completely fine today right?- right?” I pushed him for an answer. He nodded his head slightly “yeah, you were amazing today” dean finally admitted. “You saved my ass” “I want to be out here with you because I’m here for the long run Dean, I’m not going anywhere we’re locked in”. He sat on that for a second thinking on what he wanted to say. “So am I y/n- I’m just- scared” he admitted showing a venerable side i didn’t see in Dean Winchester often.

“Dean” whispering, I pulling his face to look at me. “So am I, but I’m not going to stay in that house while your out here risking your life- I love you okay, I need you to trust me i have your back and I know you have mine” “what- what did you just say?” Dean stuttered but a smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. “I meant it” “I love you too- so fine, your my partner in life and this is my life” he told me finally giving in rubbing my cheek with his thumb. “Really?” I grinned almost getting emotional. No I was getting emotional, a tear fell onto deans thumb.

“Yes- I meant every word hun, especially about me having your back- seriously if anyone puts there hands on you I’ll kill them, bring them back from hell and repeat again and again” he whispered nodding his head. “Shut up” I laughed wiping my happy tears away. “But thank you Dean- you have no idea how much this means to me and I know it’s hard for you to let down your walls” I practically starting jumping on the spot making him laugh. “Anything for you angel- anything”

I leant up on my tiptoes to kiss the man. The man I was in love with. “What’s happening to me why have I turned soft” Dean laughed against my lips. “You haven’t gone completely soft” I giggled playing with the bottom of his hair. “Oh yes he has” Sam and cas appeared grinning at us as I leant my head on deans shoulder smiling happily.