#and then the façade that streaming is holding will fall and they will lose all investiments from stakeholders

[thenineofus]

Guys Disney is dying, let's all get a show of hands to make it die faster!!!!

[shysneeze]

missed smiles (draco malfoy x reader)

missed smiles (draco malfoy x fem!reader)

request: could you do a Draco imagine where the reader gets injured somehow (like falls down the stairs) after a fight (angst) and then he gets all protective (fluff)? tysm!

Warnings: kind hints towards depression but it’s minor.  half blood prince level draco angst because I'm in one of those moods mentions of war,  family pressures etc, fighting and injury. 

Authors note: I skimped so hard on the fluff this is basically just angst pls forgive me. 

..

The late November snow crunches aggressively underfoot as (Y/N) storms back towards the castle, Draco's footsteps echoing her own not far behind her as he calls after her. She lets out a harsh breath, not daring to look back in case her anger slips into something else and the tightness in her throat gives way to the sob she's been holding back.

"(Y/N), please." He pleads. "Let me explain."

She comes to a stop, breath shaking as it leaves her lips and forming wispy streams of condensation as it meets the cool air. She knows she needs to turn around, but she can't look at him right now, she can't look at him without seeing it again on his arm, the inky mark of the wizarding world's dark past and looming future.

It was revealed after what was a perfect date. She was so happy to see him smiling, that grin that was becoming so rare these days, she was sure it was the start of better things for this school year. Then she saw it, seeping through a wet patch on his shirt when he peeled off his coat to layer on top of her own due to the aftermath of an impromptu snowball fight. Ominous and taunting, the dark mark stared back at her.

Now, she finds herself turning slowly to face him, glad momentarily to find he's covered the incriminating tattoo, that she can't see it directly, with all its cruel implications. However, the knowledge of it has engraved itself in the centre of her thoughts, torturous and vile.

"How do you even begin to explain that, Draco?" She demands through gritted teeth. "How?"

He gulps under her harsh look despite knowing it's a quickly crumbling façade, watching her bottom lip tremble and her eyes well with reluctant tears. Words tumble out so quickly he's not even sure they make sense, a panicked onslaught of barely coherent apologies as he steps closer.

"No, Draco." She whimpers, stepping back. "No."

Her eyes clench shut and forces the escape of reluctant tears that she lifts her shaking hand to hide. The logical bit of her, the bit that tells her he doesn't want this, that knows him well enough to know his hand must have been forced in the matter, is hidden behind the bitterly betrayed part of her conscience.

"I can't do this right now." She exhales shakily.

His jaw slackens in defeat, explanations left hanging on the tip of his tongue while he watches her leave, ascending the steps to the castle. The weight of it all settles once again on his chest as it has all year, heavy on his lungs until he's forced to breathe manually under the pressure. He watches her go, convinced that's it, that his one perfect thing is gone for good.

His eyes cast downwards with shame and he's about to turn to walk away himself, to find somewhere to think everything through when he hears her yelp. He's too late in turning to help, instead staring wide-eyed and her crumbled figure at the bottom of the icy steps.

"(Y/N)!"

.

(Y/N) groans softly as she struggles to open her eyes, frown fixing itself on her face at the her unfamiliar surroundings. She doesn't register herself as being in the hospital wing until she hears the gentle tut of Madam Pomfrey from the foot of her bed.

"Miss (Y/L/N)." She greets. "Finally awake I see."

"Finally?"

Her voice is hoarse and quiet, forcing her to wonder just how long she's been out for. Madam Pomfrey gives her an understanding look and gives her a sympathetic smile. The older woman steps around her bed to (Y/N)'s side and gently pushes her into an upright position in order to manoeuvre the pillows in her aid.

"You had quite a tumble down the stairs, my dear." She informs. "Quite the concussion I'm afraid, so don't worry if it takes a moment to remember- I'm sure Mr Malfoy will be able to help once he wakes up too."

The nurse gesture with a slight smirk towards the head of blonde hair resting face down on the edge of the mattress, just by (Y/N)'s legs. The sight of him is enough to have the memories flooding back, heart aching at the memory.

"I'll be back to check on you in a few." Madam Pomfrey informs.

"Thanks." (Y/N) gulps.

Once the older woman is gone, footsteps placing her well in the distance, (Y/N) turns back to the sleeping boy by her side. He looks small here, curled by her side, so sweet it's hard to believe what he's hiding underneath his cool façade and long sleeves. She finds herself reaching a hand out tiredly for his hair, curling her fingers in it gently and watching him stir.

He wakes as groggily as she did, with the same confused frown. Then, eyes meeting hers, they widen and a sigh of sheer relief escapes his lips. He looks exhausted, with ashy grey circles hanging under his eyes, although she's sure they've been like that for months now.

"Thank goodness you're awake, (Y/N)." He exhales. "God, I was so worried."

"How long?"

"About a day." He informs. "You hit you're head really hard-"

"Not that." She corrects in a whisper. "How long have you had t-the mark?"

The light brought to his face from her recovery dies at the question, eyes dropping instantly. She almost feels bad, but she needs to know, she needs to understand this all before she can allow herself to look at him the same.

"The summer." He admits. "Just before the start of term."

She inhales loudly, sharply as she take it in. She pulls her hand back from where he'd clutched it in relief when he first woke. The betrayal bites bitterly at her heart and tugs her brows into a disbelieving frown.

"I know." He whispers.  

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs aloud, causing him to shift guiltily. The logical part of her is back, reminding her that she knows him, knows this is not something he would do if given the option not to.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her words throw him off and he stares at her in disbelief. Where he expects the furrowed brows of an angry glare, he finds her expression full of concern. His confusion over her reaction manifest itself as a frown.

"I'm a- a deatheater, (Y/N)."

His voice is hushed, cautious of the fact only the thin layer of the curtain around her bed shields them from the rest of the hospital wing, from listening ears. She lets out a sigh, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head in response.

"No you're not." She sighs, an almost desperate edge to her voice, as if she's trying to convince herself. "You're not, Draco."

"I took the mark, (Y/N)." He corrects. "I'm sorry."

"There's no way you wanted this." She argues. "This has your father written all over it. I know this isn't you-"

"How do you always do that?"

She can see him trying to keep himself together, fists clenched so tightly they shake and his eyes brimming with tears he's begging to stay put. He lets out a sharp sigh, turning away from her to hide how his mask is crumbling, how he's so quickly beginning to come undone.

"What?"

"What do you see that no one else does?"

His voice cracks. Red rimmed eyes meet (Y/N)'s, so full of raw emotion that she finds herself letting out the smallest of sniffles as her fingers reach out for his closed fists, loosening them enough to grasp his hand in hers.

"I see my boyfriend frowning more than he smiles." She begins, voice trembling. "I see him losing all motivation for his hobbies, I see him sneaking off when he thinks I'm not looking and telling me he's fine when he's not."

She squeezes his hand, begging him to understand, to understand that she's worried, she so worried for him that it hurts. She worried when his smile didn't meet his eyes on the train, and when he asked to stay curled together in his dorm room the day of the first Hogsmeade trip when they would usually go to Honeydukes together. She’s worried all year.

"I was so relieved yesterday to see you smile." She continues. "I miss your smiles so much, Draco."

He lets out an inaudible apology, fixing his tear filled eyes on their joined hands, gasping under the pressure to keep himself together. It's like she's pulled out the last thread, the one that was keeping him in one piece and as if any sudden movement will rip him apart now.

"I know you're a good person." She concludes. "I know you don't want this."

"I don't." He admits through a raspy, quiet sob. "I don't want this but I had to- I had to for my family."

"Your dad?" She asks sadly.

"Father made a mistake, but it's H-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who chose me, to amend my family's names in his eyes." He shakes his head. "It was the only decision that could be made."

"Draco..."

"You know what he did to Cedric Diggory." He explains. "I have to do this to keep us safe."

"You're just a kid, Draco." (Y/N) whimpers. "We're just kid and this isn't supposed to be our battle... I'm so sorry that it's ended up yours"

"Don't apologise to me." He pleads. "Don't., (Y/N)"

"Someone needs to, Draco." She argue. "This isn't fair on you."

Her voice finally cracks and tears rolls down her cheeks. She sighs in frustration when he looks up in concern. She's supposed to the pillar of support right now, hospital bed or not. The tears plough downward regardless though.

"Don't upset yourself." He begs.

"I'm angry, Draco!" She exclaims. "No at you- at this whole thing."

"(Y/N) please, you shouldn't stress yourself after the fall." He gulps. "You'll still have a concussion."

She's almost forgotten where they are, and why they're here in the first place. She lifts her free hand to the newly thumping pain in her head and grimaces. He shuffles closer, lifting a hand to tilt her head for inspection when she swats it away.

"No, I'm the patient so you have to listen to me."

She gives him a stubborn frown that has him sinking back like a scolded child to listen to her. She extends her bandaged arm out and pokes a finger against his chest sternly, his eyes widening at the serious look in her watery eyes.

"We're going to fix this." She states firmly. "We're going to fix this together and you and your family are going to be safe again."

"H-how?"

"I don't know but we will."

She drops her hand to find his once again, squeezing his fingers with a sigh. He stares at her in silence for so long she's worried he's angry, but then his lips twitch into the slightest of smiles and a breathless chuckles falls from his lips.

"Thought I was supposed to be looking after you." He explains softly.

"I only fell, Draco." She assures. "I'm fine."

"(Y/N), you have no idea how terrifying it was so see you on the ground like that." He shakes his head. "Not moving, not waking up, and all I could think was I drove you away and you hurt yourself."

"Draco..." She sighs. "I was surprised, I didn't know what to do when I saw that thing on your arm and  ran when I shouldn't have."

"This isn't your fault."

"It isn't yours either."

He lets out another laugh behind a poorly disguised sob, shaking his head again in surprise, perplexed again by her reactions. Always seeing the good in him, even when everyone is convinced it's not, when he himself has lost hold of it.

"I love you." He exhales.

"I love you too." She smiles sadly. "We're going to work this out, I promise."

He lift's the linked hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles gently. He believes her, something in his heart clinging to the assurance in her voice and the hope in her eyes. She's pulled that last thread, allowed him to fall apart at the seams in order to sew him back together again, gently and patiently, starting with the first stitch.

"I'm going to see that smile again."

.

Authors notes: like to think madam pomfrey is just sat outside the curtains like  👁👄👁 

[lomlwintersoldier]

“Mine. Mine to Me.”

Word Count: 1494

A/N: jfc I have missed writing- tfatws has reignited my love for marvel and for Bucky so hopefully I can push out a few more oneshots/drabble/chapters in between classes. Although for the time being, I only want to write stories where Tony, Steve, and Natasha still exist :( as far as I care, endgame didn’t happen. 

This one was inspired by the line from the new Jungle book :)

97 days.

That’s how long you’d been on this mission, one long, painfully unbroken stretch of time. 97 days without seeing home or any recognizable face except for Natasha’s. And the days seemed to stretch longer and longer as time went on and at this point, you couldn’t wait to leave. 

You’d spend most of the winter in the harsh mountains of Serbia, gathering intel and running supplies to an abandoned factory building that the Avengers hoped to turn into a base. Tony trusted the two of you to shape the compound in his image but, damn, were you tired of it. Thankfully though, you and Natasha were slated to leave today, both of you anxiously waiting to make the journey home. 

“You doing okay, Y/N?” Natasha asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You give her a wounded smile, nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just can’t wait to go home.” 

“Me neither.” She gives your hand a comforting squeeze as she walks off to check the perimeter, ensuring that the building was still abandoned. 

You continue packing up yours and Natasha’s things, although neither of you had brought more than a few changes of clothes and some basic toiletries. HYDRA had taught both of you how to exist on nearly nothing. 

Natasha strides back in as you finish cleaning up and you wordlessly hand her her pack. 

“Let’s head out,” you state. 

She nods and the both of you make the long hike back to the hidden quinjet you’d left 3 months ago. It was about a day's hike from the base because secrecy was of utmost importance to this mission. 

You’re quiet for most of the miles you two walk but it’s not uncomfortable. Both you and Natasha didn’t need long conversations which was why the two of you had become so close. Words flowed like a steady stream between you but both of you understood and felt comfortable in silence as well. 

By the time you reach the jet hidden in a snowy cave, it’s dusk and you’re wiped. The thin air, gusting winds and snow took a lot out of you.  

“8 hours until we’re home, Y/N,” Natasha says, a smile curving her lips and you return her smile.

“I’m sure Bucky missed you as much as you missed him,” she states as if she could read your mind. 

Your heart pangs. Goddamn, you’d missed him over these last three months. “I just can’t wait to see him again.” 

“I know, hun,” her own words colored with longing. This time, you squeeze her hand. 

“Steve missed you too, Nat.”

Her hands clench the joystick and she nods. “I really hope he did.” 

You lean back in your chair, trying to breathe and allow yourself to feel excitement at the thought of coming home, but you were far too cautious and pessimistic to believe that nothing would go wrong in the eight hours it would take to get back to New York. 

You settle into your seat and try to think only of Bucky. Of his musky, earthy scent and the dark strands of hair that brushed your cheeks every time he kissed you. God, you couldn’t wait to kiss him. Your mind drifts to his lips, plump and soft and your heart jumps as you think of how good it would feel to just feel him in your arms again. 

Eventually you drift off into sleep, the dark clouds you’re coasting over not providing enough stimulation for your brain to keep you awake. You don’t know how much time has passed but when you open your eyes again, a sliver of orange glow hangs on the horizon. It’s nearly morning. 

“Want me to take over?” You ask, your voice hoarse and cracking from sleep.

Natasha glances over and you can see the weariness in her eyes as she nods and flicks on the autopilot switch. You take her place and she takes yours, falling asleep within seconds. 

The sun peeks over billowing clouds as you guide the jet through the sky at speeds normal people could only dream of reaching. Resisting the urge to push the plane faster to reach your destination just a few minutes quicker, you decide to focus on the rising sun. 

Finally, after it feels like forever and a day, the New York City skyline begins to poke through the low hanging clouds and you breathe a sigh of relief. So close. 

You take the jet past the city, into the countryside of New York where the compound was. Where home rested. 

“Nat,” you call out softly, gently raising her from her sleep. “We’re home.” 

You exchange excited smiles as both of you see two hulking figures standing on the landing pad, where you guide the plane down. When the wheels touch down you can barely keep yourself from leaping to your feet, but you remember to power the plane down first. Natasha grabs the packs as you unbuckle and you grip each other’s hands when you hit the button to open the doors. 

Bright sunlight suddenly burns your eyes and you quickly shut them, squinting through the rays as you make your way down the steps. As your eyes get used to the brightness, his shape begins to form in your eyeline.

He’s wearing a gray t-shirt, proudly showing off the black and gold arm he’d received from Wakanda and your heart swells. He used to feel such embarrassment over his HYDRA given arm and to see him stand there, so stoically, gives you pride. 

His face splits into a wide grin as he steps toward you. 

“Bucky,” his name falls from your lips in a hushed whisper as he struts over to you. Your own face hurts and you realize it’s because you’re smiling as widely as he is and you lose all composure. 

Your legs pick up in a run and he stops, spreading his muscular, sinewy arms, ready to catch you. You seem to hang in space, so close yet so far, you can hardly believe he’s real. But before you know it, your body slams into his, his arms coiling tightly around you as a hearty laugh escapes his chest. 

“Hey, dol—“ Your lips crash to his, cutting his words off but you don’t care. You’re drunk on the taste of his love. He returns your kiss, fingers splayed across your back as he gently lowers you to the ground. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, deepening the kiss and you feel his need for you beneath the surface, evidenced by how tightly he’s holding you. He missed you as much as you did. 

“God, I missed you so much!” You exclaim against his lips. He pulls back from your lips but keeps his hands cupped around your cheeks. He takes a breath before he responds, savoring the moment as he holds you in his ocean blue gaze before pulling you close again. His head dips into your neck, stubble scratching the tender skin. 

“I missed you too, love,” he murmurs against you as you entwine your fingers in his hair, eyes closed into the sun. 

It’s rays never felt warmer. 

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

“So how much did you miss me?” You ask coyly as you gaze into Bucky’s cerulean eyes, fingers twirling lazily in his long locks. His metal hand lightly traces circles on your shoulders as a smirk curves the edge of his lips. 

“I thought I just showed you that,” he chuckles, eyes gesturing to your naked body knowingly. 

“Yeah....yeah I guess you did,” you laugh as you nuzzle in closer to him. 

“I really missed you.” You’ve said the words about a hundred times since you got back, just a few hours ago but it still doesn’t feel real to have him here, so close. 

You wrap your leg around his waist, pressing your chest against his and his arms circle around you, as if he’s shielding you from the outside world; it’s just the two of you, no one else but you and him in this bed and in your minds. It’s as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

“I was just counting the days,” he murmurs into your hair. “I was going crazy by the end of it though.” 

You chuckle, “you didn’t find anyone to keep you warm while I was gone?” 

You ask the question tentatively masked by a joking façade but you fear the answer. The two of you hadn’t had the time to really define the boundaries of your relationship before you’d gone and it was still relatively new. His arms tighten over you. 

“Of course not.” He pulls back to look at your face. “You’re mine. Mine to me.” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words. 

“You’re mine too,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss his nose. “Mine to me.”

“You’re the only one that has me, baby,” he murmurs. “And you’re the only one I’m ever gonna want.”

A small smile crosses your lips. 

Yours. His. Mine. 

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 4: don’t look back

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x fem. college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, sports au, college au

word count: 6.5k

warnings: blood, mention of surgery, description of injuries, swearing, financial struggle

author’s note: huge thanks again to my beta readers @writing-frog​ and @skiimmiilk​ for being a great help to making this story better! the slow burn fire is finally burning in this chapter and I’m so excited :) if you haven’t been listening already, I highly recommend the playlist for this chapter! enjoy~

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’?,” you sobbed, gripping the side of her hospital bed. You wanted to give your best friend a hug, but you didn’t want to risk hurting her more. Yuna’s right leg was pinned into an apparatus, the intricate metal carefully holding together the broken bones, her usual perfect skin marred by scratches of red and patches of blue. 

“I mean what I said”. Even with a sore voice and her current situation, Yuna managed to speak with dignity.

“And Ms. Kim is right,” the doctor agreed, jotting down a prescription on her clipboard, “the surgeries went well and she is in stable condition. The good news is that with proper rest and physical therapy, she will be able to walk again. Now, it’s my duty to be honest with you. You said you’re a figure skater?”.

“Yes”. Yuna uncurled her fingers, inviting you to hold her hand. You accepted it, bracing both of you for the bad news. Ten sat at the other side of the bed pressing her other hand to his lips.

“While we cannot rule out the possibility, the likelihood of you being able to skate again is very low. Especially for the next few years”. 

Yuna’s tough façade started to crumble at the shocking reality and her lips trembled as she choked back tears. You pressed your forehead to her hand as you hid your own tears from her. 

“God damn it!”. Ten yelled, getting up and kicking away the stool he was sitting on. The loud bang was followed by the sound of quiet weeping. “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. I shouldn’t have told you to go to the car first. None of this should’ve happened, god damn it”. The older boy cried into his palms as he placed the blame on himself. 

“Please settle down and refrain from disturbing the patient,” the doctor warned, “but we would like to talk to you about the details of the accident, Ms. Kim, now that you’re awake and stable”.

Yuna nodded, a few tears escaping and rolling down her scraped-up cheeks.

“Your right leg is broken in three places upon impact with the vehicle: two in the femur and one major area in the tibia. You then sustained minor external injury as you fell to the pavement, scraping your arms and face. We will run additional tests later on to determine if you also have a concussion. If you can remember any details of how this accident happened, please describe them to me and we can notify the police to help find the suspect”, the doctor continued.

“I,” Yuna cleared her throat, “I was at a party last night and I had a bit to drink. We stayed pretty late and Ten is close with the host, so we just decided to sleep over. Then this morning, I woke up early and I wanted to go on a drive to clear my head. Ten had to get something so I left the house first. I- I checked both ways before I crossed the street to his car, but before I knew it… it came out of nowhere and I was on the ground. I don’t… I can’t remember anything about it. The next thing I remember was being in the ambulance with Ten”. 

“I heard the whole thing happen,” Ten added softly, “I was inside the house at the time and I heard the screeching tires and Yuna screamed. By the time I ran outside, the car was gone and Yuna was bleeding on the ground”. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist. “All I could do was call an ambulance. I- I didn’t see the car or the bastard driving it. All I could do was sit with her in the street while we waited. She wasn’t waking up and all I could do was sit with her. I couldn’t even move her because I was afraid it would make it worse and she was bleeding everywhere. All I could do was sit there”. 

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Ten break down. The normally bright and optimistic man now had his face in his hands, hiccupping uncontrollably at the thought of how close he came to losing the love of his life.

“Hey,” Yuna groaned, struggling to keep her own voice steady, “baby, I’m okay. When we met, you were hurt and struggling, but you got through it because we were together. We’re still together and we can get through this too”. She touched her fingers through his hair gently. 

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Kim, and both of your friends. The police are currently asking for witnesses for your hit-and-run case and will update you with any findings. These are your prescriptions”, the doctor slid the piece of paper onto the counter, “the nurse will come find you later to talk about your treatment. For now, I’ll leave you all alone”. 

The room fell silent, only interrupted by the occasional sniffle as the doctor shut the door behind her.

“Hey y/n?”. Yuna turned her head gingerly to you.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I can’t do the competition with you now. I promised I would but…”

“Don’t even… how could you worry about that right now?”, you sobbed, “don’t you worry about it, Yuna, the competition doesn’t matter at all. I’m just glad you’re okay right now. You should focus on getting better, not worry about me of all things”. 

“Y/n is right,” Ten agreed, “you were there for me when I got hurt. And when I thought there was no way out, you held my hand and pulled me up from the darkness. Doctor says you have a good chance of walking, so let’s get you there first. Then we’ll work on beating the odds and getting you back on the ice again”. 

“You guys…” Yuna smiled slightly, careful not to strain her bruised jaw. 

“I’ll come visit you as much as I can,” you promised, “I can bring my sleeping bag, clothes, and a jar of peanut butter. We can just be roommates here instead. There’s free AC and disney band aids too, it’ll be great”. Your attempt to lighten the mood was well received as the couple chuckles together. 

“By the way, I called your parents while you were in surgery and they’re on their way over now. They should actually be here soon,” Ten noted.

“I’ll leave you guys then,” you offered. There was a two visitor limit and you didn’t want to intrude on Ten and Yuna’s chance to have some private time before her parents bombarded her with concern. Not to mention Mark has been sitting in the waiting room for a few hours now and you wanted to be respectful of his time too.

Offering your last words of support to Yuna, you shut the door quietly behind you. Dabbing at your watery eyes with the edge of your sleeve, you attempt to fix your run-off makeup using your phone camera. Everything felt kind of numb. The events of the last 24 hours were surreal and staying up the whole night with Mark certainly did not help as the tiredness was catching up to you. Concern, upset, worry, and frustration formed a thick cloud in your thoughts. Your brain was like a jammed printer and the thoughts were not processing. You were in shock to say the least.

You shuffle your way down the hall to the waiting area and look for Mark’s familiar blonde hair. You spot him fast asleep in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he leans his head back against the wall. His mouth is slightly agape, forming a soft ‘o’ as he breathed steadily in and out. Seeing him sleep so peacefully made you relax a little. 

At least there was something good about today.

“Hey,” you whisper, shaking him gently. His eyes blink open slowly, wincing at the bright hospital lights. 

“Hey,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes as he sits up straight. “How’s Yuna? Did you get to see her?”.

“She’s…,” you pause, “she’s okay. She said she was okay when I saw her just now and the doctor said she’s stable but…,” your voice trails off. 

“But what?,” Mark asked gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. You look around to make sure there was nobody around who could overhear. A few people sat around the waiting room a ways away, texting on their phones or flipping through the free health magazines. The receptionist’s monotonous voice droned on as she answered a phone call.

“The doctor says that Yuna might not be able to skate again,” you murmured. Even though the doctor made it clear before, saying the words out loud felt extremely surreal. You imagined if it were you lying on the hospital bed hearing this news. To not be able to skate again… it was too awful to comprehend. Tears roll down your cheeks before you could help it, dangling from the point of your chin before falling onto your green volunteer shirt. 

Mark thought about what he could say in reply to the devastating news, but decided it was best to not say anything at all. Pulling you in for a hug, you cry silently into the crook of his neck. You wrap your arms around his torso and hold on for dear life. 

The next few weeks pass by rather uneventfully after the incident, at least comparatively. Police were still on the case of Yuna’s hit-and-run perpetrator, but they struggled to find witnesses when the crime occurred so early in the morning. Even the local CCTV didn’t cover the area where it happened and the driver was still ultimately at large. 

The Lee’s and your other friends texted in the group chat plenty and you grew much more comfortable with having them around. Mark drives you to the hospital to visit Yuna a couple times a week and the three of you would eat lunch together in her room for a small sense of normalcy. It was a tough transition for you nonetheless- your best friend and roommate who you were used to seeing every day now was now seemingly so far away and your time together was reduced to a few hours a week. However, the initial shock of the situation eventually faded and the two of you came to terms with how things were. Yuna and you agreed to not cry about it anymore until she got started on physical therapy and gave recovery her best shot. Thankfully, Ten was there with her everyday and night, so it was bearable for her. 

Mark’s always been sweet about your comfort zone, too, never pushing you to talk about your feelings yet at the same time, always there for you when you needed him. Neither one of you brought up the almost-kisses, the first reason being you weren’t ready to remind yourself of the horrible things that happened afterwards and the second being that Mark wanted to respect that you needed time to process it. 

So the days tick by and seeing Mark became part of your daily routine. It was something you looked forward to when you got ready in the morning and although you didn’t really know it, it was something you needed to make your day feel complete. His good heart shined more and more to you everyday as you chose to continue to accompany him to Sunday volunteering. You got to witness how Mark’s eyes glowed whenever he talked to the people he served. He treated everyone there as if they were his own family and even though many of the people he helps are much older, he continues every conversation with sincerity and maturity. 

In addition to walking you to class everyday, Mark now has a special seat next to you in the front row of your economics lecture, leaving Jeno and Ten snickering behind you as they watch your close interactions. You ate lunch at the willow tree by the basketball court on the days you weren’t visiting Yuna. After a while, you grew used to the dirty looks from the girls across the court, even glaring back when you met Hillary’s fiery stare. Nonetheless, you developed a comfortable social routine and everything was going quite well, except for one abundant issue weighing heavily on your shoulders.

The middle of October rolls by and you grind your way through your evening shift at Frankie’s. Thankfully, it was a Tuesday, so late-night stragglers weren’t an issue. You finish scrubbing down the counters in the kitchen and wipe your hands on your waitress apron. Unfortunately, it was your turn to close so you were the only one left working tonight. Your back ached from the hours of waiting tables and your cheeks hurt from the wide smile you offered all of your customers, rude or not. Sighing, you count your tips for the day.

A bell chimes from the door.

“Sorry we’re closed-,” you stop your words as you see the figure illuminated by the low diner lights. 

“Is it too late for me to talk with the pretty waitress?” Mark grins, unzipping and taking off his wind breaker. You roll your eyes but your smile tells him you aren’t actually annoyed.

“The pretty waitress is covered in barbeque sauce and all purpose cleaner. Proceed?”

“Oh no, not barbeque sauce! Cancel request! Cancel Request!”

You laugh, throwing a nickel at his dramatic show. 

“Wait, give that back to me. I need every tip I can get,” you say, holding out your hand to receive the coin. Mark obediently picks it up, handing it to you as he takes a seat at the bar. You thank him, flipping through the crinkled, greasy bills from the tip jar. The creeping disappointment must have shown on your face because Mark broke the silence.

“Not a good night?” His words were careful. He understood you were under a lot of stress recently, but he didn’t have the heart to pry further and make you tell him why, which you appreciated. Mark assumed it was about Yuna or grades, but you never confided the real reason of how much your financial situation really scared you.

“Not a good…” you debate telling him everything. On one hand, you didn’t want to come off as needy or desperate. You were infamously bad at sharing your burdens with others. On the other, you wanted to tell Mark because you know he would listen and it would make you feel better. “Not a good anything,” you finally admit, setting the scraggly bills down on the clean counter between you. 

Only $26.84 for the whole night.

Mark’s soft brows were creased in concern as he waited for you to elaborate. He rested his chin on his knuckle, watching you pensate your feelings carefully. You meet his soft gaze, his eyes telling you that it’s okay. You let your shoulders relax, not even realizing the tension they were carrying.

“I…,” you start, letting out a small sigh as you walk your way around the counter to sit on the stool next to him. He spun his stool so he was sitting facing you. You pick at the mysterious stain on your apron. 

How do I even tell him about this? Hey Mark, I’m broke! I might drop out because I don’t have money for school, thus ruining everything my parents and I have worked for. 

“I guess I’m just worried,” you resolve after a minute, “I’m worried because, well, because of money”. You wince at hearing the words out loud but continue before you could take it back, “my parents are working really hard to get the money for my tuition, but things aren’t looking good for next semester”. You continue to tell him about how you’ve been picking up extra shifts to try to save up, but skating fees and money for basic necessities eats whatever you earn right up. The thought of quitting skating to save money came to your mind, but you never followed through because that was as much of a necessity as anything. A miracle occurred with the skating competition, only for some sick bastard to hurt Yuna. You asked around but everyone already had a partner or were too busy to participate in the competition. So now you could either go rob a bank or take a gap year and hope you’ll be able to return. Mark listened to your qualms quietly until you finished.

“The competition, did you ask people who aren’t on your team?,” Mark inquired, resting a reassuring hand on yours.

“Yeah, I even asked the girls on JV, but nobody wants to do it since they think they can’t win,” you confirm with a sad nod.

“That’s so dumb,” Mark stated, “you’re like, the best skater ever. Even the worst girl on JV could win if they did it with you”.

You look at him in surprise. His thumb ran comfortingly across your knuckles, sending tingles down your arm. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you look back down at your joined hands. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what you guys were: officially, you were just friends at the moment, but anyone could see that there was something there. As of late, too much has been on your mind for you to possibly sit down and ponder it. Neither one of you has confessed feelings of any sort, but the night at the lake couldn’t just be ignored. And do normal friends hold hands like this?

“Right, tell that to them. Nobody wanted to be my partner, so yeah, I’m kind of in a pickle with tuition right now”

“Well can anyone be your partner?,” Mark asked.

“What do you mean? Like, just ask random strangers to skate with me?”

“No I mean like… I could do it”. His expression was serious, alluding that he meant every word of his ridiculous proposition.

“You could-” you stop to consider, “I mean I guess? I don’t think Coach Tanya said anything about the participants needing to be on the team… or be a girl. But there’s a big problem we’re not considering.”

“What problem?”

“You don’t know how to figure skate”. You free your hand from his and punch him lightly in the arm. 

“But I play hockey and I’ve skated all my life,” Mark bargained, pointing to himself smugly and shrugging, “how hard can it be?”

“How hard-” you wheeze. You laugh out loud as the serious boy looked on indignantly. “Figure skating is miles different from what you guys do. Y’all go, what, forwards and backwards? Can you do a jump?”.

“I can too do a jump,” Mark defended.

“Okay, what about a single axel jump?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you giggle, grabbing the counter and spinning your stool around. Mark watches you endearingly.

“Y/n” the sound of your name stops your childish break and you look at him expectantly. “What if I practiced every day. I can learn your uh- single axis”

“Axel,” you correct.

“Axel. I can learn this axel jump and I can practice it and whatever else you need so you can do the competition”. You couldn’t tell if he was being serious, but your heart skipped a beat nonetheless.

“Deadass?” 

“Deadass,” Mark nodded. 

“Why… why…”. You struggled to find the right words.

“Because I like you,” Mark interrupted, “and I want to do this for you because it would make you happy. I’d streak across campus fully nude and screaming if it made you happy”. 

Did he just...confess?

“It would,” you nod seriously.

“It would? Which part? The competition or-”

“No, the streaking,” you shake your head, ignoring the steady increase of your heart rate. You press your lips into a flat line and nod to feign seriousness. Mark paused before getting up. He reached for the hem of his shirt, sighing before lifting it up over his head. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, reaching for his belt buckle. You shriek, shielding your eyes from his half-nude appearance. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you let your eyes linger on his lean torso through your fingers.

Damn, maybe hockey does have some benefits. 

“I was kidding! Please put your clothes back on!,” you cry. You heard him laugh as he pulled the fabric back on. 

“Okay I’m decent. I’m decent,” Mark assured, taking his seat next to you again. “But seriously, I meant what I said and you don’t have to reply until you’re ready. I completely understand if you don’t know yet. Just know that I am here for you and I,” he grabbed the edge of your stool and pulled it firmly so you were facing him, “really like you. As more than friends”.

You felt surprisingly confident; the stress of life always went away when Mark was around and you forgot all about the scattered pennies and nickels on the counter. Although his confession was so sudden, you had a feeling it was coming eventually. It didn’t feel shocking, but more like… finally. That being said, you were unsure of what to say. You weren’t sure you were ready for a relationship and most of all, you weren’t sure about your feelings for him. The last thing you wanted was to say you like him back and have it end up not being true. 

Like always, the understanding, patient look in Mark’s eyes told you that he would wait for you to reply when you’re ready.

“Okay”. You smile. 

“Okay”. He mirrors.

“Let’s do it, the competition,” you decide.

“Really?”

“Yeah, let’s give it our best shot! After all, it’s a crowd vote and your popularity might gain us favor,” you tease, poking his chest. “What time is it?”

“It’s 9:48pm, why?,” Mark replied, checking his lock screen. You hopped off your stool and began untying your apron.

“You drove here right?”. He nods. “Then there’s somewhere I wanna go if you’re willing to drive”. You shove your tips for the night into your bag. 

“You know I’m always down for you,” Mark smiled, grabbing your jacket off the rack and helping you into it. He stood in front of you and zipped you up without you asking, fixing the hood so it was proper. You watch him in silence and awe as he smooths down the wrinkles by your collar carefully and slings the strap of your bag over his shoulder without a word. It’s always these things, the little things, that leave you speechless.

The drive was pleasant. Mark put on your favorite radio channel and the two of you vibed comfortably to the acoustic music, the only interruptions were your quiet directions to the desired destination. You examined Mark’s face as he focused on the road, tipping his head back and forth to the beat with one hand on the wheel. It was dark, but the passing street lights illuminated his features in mesmerizing flashes, almost as if they were afraid to show his face for too long, the beauty would be too much to handle. His cheekbones were especially accentuated by the small smile on his lips. Looking at him made you feel… calm.

You pulled into the familiar parking lot. The blue neon lights above the building reading “Skate City” buzzed with electricity as the two of you got out of the car. 

“You wanted to come here? To a kid’s roller rink?”. Mark chuckled as he shut the driver side door. 

“Make fun of me now but you’ll see why” you rolled your eyes, walking through the building door which Mark held open for you.

The interior of the building was just like you remembered: the dark, ragged carpet was covered in colorful squiggles and dots resembling an abstract representation of worms and confetti. If that wasn’t bad enough, the matching wallpaper and UV lights topped off the hallucinogenic nightmare of a roller rink. Usually, it was also filled with the screams of children. Due to the lateness in the day, the rink was empty and usual disco funk was turned off. You would think it was closed if it weren’t for the man watching TV behind the counter.

“Mr. Joseph,” you call out with a wave. The man grunted, pulling his feet from off of the counter and shuffling through the mess of papers to find his glasses. He was an unassuming man in about his early forties, balding, pot-bellied, and proud. Nobody would guess that he was the man who taught you to skate all those years ago.

“Why, is that Miss y/n?,” Mr. Joseph exclaimed, rounding the counter to hug you.

“How have you been, Joe?”

“Well, you know me. I’m gettin’ by. Who’s this fella over here?”. Joe adjusted his specs and squinted at Mark.

“This,” you nudge the shy boy forward slightly, “is my friend, Mark. Mark, this is my family friend and former coach, Mr. Joseph. Also known as Joe,” you introduce.

The two men exchange a firm handshake.

“Nice meeting you, Mark. You treating her right?” Joe narrowed his eyes.

“Um so,” you cough, saving Mark from the awkward question, “Joe, we need skates for Mark”. 

“Wait but I already have skates, y/n-,” 

“No, you have hockey skates, Mark. You’re gonna need proper figure skates if we’re gonna do this competition right,” you explain. 

“Competition, huh,” Joe gruffed, waddling into the back room and motioning for you to follow. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if my parents told you, but Yuna was in an accident and now she can’t do the pair skate with me. Mark’s a hockey player but,” you glance at him with a smile, “he offered to pick up some skills and be my partner”.

“Here,” Joe smacked a pair of skates into Mark’s arms, “try these, boy”.

“Thank you, sir”. Mark bowed and went out to the bench to try them on.

Once he was out of sight, Joe leaned down to you, “you like this boy?”.

“Stop!,” you cry, covering your reddening ears with your hands.

“I’m just saying,” Joe held up his hands innocently, “I can tell he likes you by the way he looks at you. Even from meeting him just now”.

“Yeah… I just,” you stop to think about it. Well it’s true he likes you...

Do you like him?

You look to the door where you could see his shadow lacing up the new skates. You wish he would hurry back. Being without him felt like something was missing. Even if he was right around the corner, it didn’t feel good that you couldn’t see him and feel his reassuring presence. Realization began creeping in and you turn to look back at Joe’s I-told-you-so expression. He gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Make sure he’s good to you”.

Mark’s figure reappeared at the doorway, oblivious to your pounding heart and emotions which were becoming slowly more apparent. You watch endearingly as he stepped awkwardly into the room wearing the skates, stretching out his arms to maintain his balance. 

“I think they fit!,” Mark beamed at you, causing the butterflies in your stomach to migrate all around. 

“That’s good, boy. Take them on the house,” Joe guided him back out to take them off before he could hurt himself. 

“Oh no, sir-”

“Please, they were collecting dust in that storage room. Nobody wants men’s figure skates anymore these days and I’m glad to help y/n out” Joe dismissed. 

“Joe,” you stop him, wrapping your arms around Joe’s neck to give him a big hug, “thank you,” you whisper. 

“Of course, kiddo” he pat your back, “you make me proud”.

After chatting for a bit longer, you bid your goodbyes to Joe as he locked up Skate City for the night. In the car, you hold your breath and turn towards Mark. Strangely, your head was in the clouds as you examined his face, a face you’ve grown so familiar with in the past few weeks, yet seemed brand new. Suddenly, he leaned in close, close enough to count his pretty eyelashes, warranting your breath to hitch in your throat. Unaware of your, Mark places the box of skates in the backseat and sits up straight again to buckle his seatbelt. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Right, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

“So, are you tired or do you wanna do some skating today?,” you finally ask.

Mark flashed you a crooked smile, starting the car, “Y/n, I’m always down for you. School rink?”.

You nod. 

The whole drive back to the school was noticeably more awkward, at least to you. You tensed  at every word he said and felt your heart clench when he hummed along to the soft radio tune. Saying nothing or giving short, one word replies, you didn’t trust your voice to say more. Instead, you opted to look out the window at the passing scenery for the fear of Mark noticing your flushed expression. You tug uncomfortably at your jacket collar, beginning to regret asking him to skate tonight. Ironically, and perhaps foolishly of you, you’ve received his confession yet you’re unwilling to admit the good news of mutual feelings to yourself. What should you do or say? Surely it’s not right to just say ‘I like you! I figured it out haha let’s date!” out of the blue. 

Pulling into the sports center parking lot, you notice the locks on the front door.

“Oh crap, I forgot it’s a weekday. The rink is closed after 11,” you mutter, slightly relieved at the thought of heading home to sort out your feelings alone. 

“Don’t worry, we can sneak in through the side door,” Mark answers nonchalantly, getting out to open the car door for you. You don’t disregard the kind gesture and instead feel the familiar pressure in your chest again. 

And sneak in you did. 

Mark had clearly done this a few times judging based on the way he led you confidently to the obscured side door which was propped slightly open with a rock.

You went your separate ways in the eerily empty stadium to your respective locker rooms. Splashing your face with cool water, you attempt to rein in your fiery flush. 

How should I bring it up? Or do I wait? He already said he likes me, but what if he didn’t mean it? 

After changing into your skates, you take a deep breath and head out to the ice.

He was already there waiting for you by the railing. Mark must have heard your footsteps approaching and he turned to give you a warm smile. 

“You’re right, y/n, these skates are kinda different”. He tapped the toe pick into the padded floor.

“Yeah… right,” you mumbled, struggling to meet his bright eyes. 

He’s so cute.

Pale moonlight streamed through the glass ceiling panels and illuminated your surroundings. Mark’s hair made his face glow silver and his eyes sparkled with the reflection of the moon. His face fell at your weak response, reading it as disinterest.

You open the gate and skate out onto the ice in front of him. Mark tentatively skated out to follow you, wobbling slightly at the different sensation. You reach out to grab his arms and steady him, meeting his gaze briefly before blinking away. You loosen your grip on his sleeves, the contact making your feelings go wild.

For a few moments, the two of you silently glided across the ice. For the first time ever, it seems, you weren’t sure what to say to him.

“Listen,” Mark finally spoke, struggling to a stop. He looked down at his skates thoughtfully, “If it’s about what I said earlier, if it’s about me liking you and that made you uncomfortable, I- I take it back. I feel like I didn’t give you a chance to say no if you wanted to-”

“No it’s-,” you interrupt, skating slightly ahead, “It’s not that”. 

“Then why are you acting so strange?,” Mark asked, struggling to keep up.

“I just,” you circle to a stop at the middle of the rink. How do you even begin to explain how you feel? Never in your life have you felt like this about anybody. Never in your life have you felt so special and so cared for than when you were with Mark. You would have been lucky enough just being able to know him, but he even likes you. Out of all of the people he could have chosen, he chose you.

Mark careened to a halt behind you, waiting for you to finish. You take a deep breath.

Now or never.

You turn around to face him. 

“What you told me in the diner, tell it to me again”. Your voice came out weaker than you had intended.

Mark’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and worry that you were upset with him. He wanted to pull you into a hug, tuck that piece of hair back behind your ear and tell you it’s okay if you didn’t love him back.

“I-,” Mark cleared his throat from his emotions, “I said that I like you, y/n. I like you as more than friends”. He looked down towards his feet but before he could blink, he was crushed in between your arms as you jumped to hug him. Your face fit perfectly into the crook of his neck and you breathed in his familiar, warm scent as he wrapped his arms delicately around your waist. The force from your impact caused both of you to drift slightly, but you kept steady. Not brave enough to look him in the face, you whisper your confession to his ear.

“I’m ready to answer you. I… I like you too. As more than friends”

Mark’s grip tightened around your waist as he lifted you slightly off the ice. Spinning around, he curled his fingers into the fabric of your sweatshirt as if he never wanted to let you go. Your heart swelled at the feeling as you held onto his sturdy shoulders. Neither of you needed to say anything more. He pulled you close so there was no space left and you listened to the gentle rhythm of his heart beating for you.

Pulling away at last, you rest your forehead against his. Your eyes fluttered closed but you could feel the tip of his nose brush gently across yours, his warm exhalation fanning across your lips. 

“You don’t happen to have your phone on you, do you?” Mark mumbled deeply, savoring the moment.

You let out a small giggle, “no, do you?”.

“Nope”

And with that, you tilted your head up ever so slightly and Mark cupped your cheek to bring your lips together. You melt into his kiss and touch, allowing the way his soft lips moved against yours to express his silent affections. Exhaling through your nose, you sigh into the kiss, moving your hand to rest at the back of his head to pull him in deeper.

Finally.

Mark ran his thumb affectionately across your cheek, his lips speaking of all the times he’s wanted to do this. Your fingers lace their way through his soft hair, loving the way he reacts as you tug against the strands slightly. 

A loud bang from a closing door causes you to pull apart finally. The bright beam of the security guard’s flashlight flashes across the ice as the two of you look on like deer caught in headlights. 

“Hey, you two! Get out of there!,” the guard shouted, pointing a finger at your embracing form.

“Run!,” you whisper yell, pulling him quickly towards the gate. The two of you run as quickly as you can in your skates, pulling them off before you enter the hallway. 

“Hey! Stop right there!,” the guard yelled, stumbling down the stadium stairs.

“Quick! In here!” Mark tugged you into the boys locker room, shutting the door before the guard could see and ushering you quickly to hide in the gap between two lockers. You squeezed in with him, panting softly as the adrenaline pumped through your body. Mark’s arms wrap around your body to pull you closer as the guard opens the door. The flashlight flicked menacingly across the dark room. You hold your breath as it comes particularly close. Finally, seconds that feel like hours pass and the security guard grunts before deciding to move on. You exhale in relief. 

Mark rests his chin on top of your head and you realize how closely you’re pressed together. You giggle into his chest, loving how warm he felt. 

“I can’t believe that I get to hold you,” Mark whispers. His fingers draw invisible shapes across your back.

You nuzzle your face into his tee shirt. “Well I can’t believe we’re doing this in the boy’s locker room after being chased down by security,” you mumble against the fabric. His chest sounded a low vibration as he chuckled back, moving his hand up to stroke your hair. 

“You are so, so beautiful, y/n,” he moves to kiss the top of your head, “I don’t know the words to express how beautiful you are to me”. 

You press deeper into his body at the words you’ve always wanted to hear. Lifting your face up from his chest, you press a small kiss to his lips, heart jumping at the still-new sensation. It was sweet, his lips ghosting over yours breathlessly as you nestle your nose gently against his in a slow eskimo kiss. 

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Mark whispers in between kisses, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long”.

You answer by gripping the fabric of his collar to pull him in deeper, moving your lips rhythmically against his. 

“I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” you admit as you catch your breath, “I just didn’t understand it. Or some part of me wasn’t ready to admit it”.

“That makes sense” Mark rests his forehead on yours, smiling, “I would have waited a thousand years if that’s what you needed”.

Again and again, he captivated you with his words. He was so good to you and never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect. Day after day, his patience with you never faded and slowly, you let him break down your walls. His comforting smile and optimism always filled you with reassurance and peace. 

So standing there, making out in the boy’s locker room, illegally, in the dead of night on a Tuesday, you became sure. You were sure that you wanted him in your life. You were sure you wanted to try to be a part of his. As you pressed your lips to his and as he ran his fingers through your hair, there was no turning back.

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[marvel-ousnesss]

The one with the boiling rock (Zuko x reader)

Pairing: Prince Zuko x firebender!reader

Summary: Y/N follows Azula after she overhears the Firelord's plan to get rid of his banished son. She fails to warn Zuko and ends up in the Boiling Rock thinking he's dead. Spoiler alert, he's not.

Word count: 4k-ish

masterlist

A/N: For the sake of avoiding any signs of a love triangle, let's throw cannon away and pretend Mai and Zuko are just good friends. Love you all so so much. 💜💜💜

Servants vowed to you as you waltzed through the galleries of the palace, looking for your father, General Yuan. That morning, he had told you to join him in the training arena at sundown, once the war meeting was over. You were planning on taking no detours, but that changed once you heard loud, thundering footsteps coming from across the hall. The Firelord walked with his head held high and his hands behind his back, the princess trailed right behind him, closely listening to his every command. 

"Your brother is a failure and your uncle is a coward and a traitor," he declared. "I cannot risk having them on the loose with the avatar's capture on stake." 

"I completely agree, father, they must be dealt with." She quickened her pace. 

He turned toward his daughter and she lowered her head in an indication of respect. "I've decided to send you, Azula, to effectuate their imprisonment or, be the case, take them out.” The princess’s head rose, proud. “I only trust you to do what must be done."

You hid behind a column to remain unseen while they walked past you, using your hands to silence the gasp that threatened to spill out of your mouth. The Firelord's cruelty had surprised you the day of the Agni Kai, images of Zuko’s crying silhouette curled in a fetal position were still plastered in your mind. And, even knowing he was capable of that, you didn’t find a way to comprehend how he’d not only kill his only son but he'd use his daughter to do so. 

That evening, your head was elsewhere while training. Your flames, usually potent and vibrant, were shining a faint tone of red. Your aim too was sloppy, as evidenced when your fire whip was easily blocked by your father every time you tried to strike.

"Something's in your mind." He lost his stance and approached you, inviting you to do the same. 

"I'm just a bit distracted," you lied, looking down at your feet. 

"We can head home if you want." He offered you some water. 

You nodded.

Your family's house was not far from the palace citadel, as your father was one of the most prominent figures in the Fire Nation army. You walked in silence, not even looking at him but, once you closed the main door, you couldn't hide your concern. You sat down at his study, and, after taking a sip of your tea with a trembling hand, explained what you had heard.  

"Firelord Ozai is sending Azula after the prince and General Iroh.”

Your father's eyes widened for a moment, as he had once fought alongside the kind general, but he regained his serenity immediately. "It is a reasonable move. Getting the avatar was just a way to keep the prince at sea, but now is not the time to let a traitor and a teenager have the power to control the odds of the war."

Your jaw clenched, then you swallowed hard and, unable to speak, nodded. You understood that it was probably what needed to be done, strategically speaking, and that, even if your father personally disapproved such cruelty, he was in no position to defy the Firelord; but it was Zuko whom you were talking about, it felt more than wrong to accept his cursed fate with such ease. 

"Y/N, you have always been kind-hearted, and it hurts me to see you worry, but you need to understand that some sacrifices demand to be made for the sake of victory."

That night, you were about to send a letter to the exiled members of the royal family, but there was a  feeling of uneasiness that made your stomach ache. There had to be something else you could do… That's when it hit you.

Azula and her unit weren't leaving until the following week. So you used that time to gather supplies, dig into whatever scroll you could get your hands in and steal --no, borrow-- some of your father's maps. The day of your departure came, you got up before sunrise and headed to the base from which the princess was sailing, leaving behind a small note for your father to see.  

You waited for her to show and, once her ship lifted anchors, so did yours. You knew how to sail except you had never done it without a crew. The ship you had stolen wasn't big, it was a fishing boat domestic fleets used every once in a while, so it was relatively easy to stay in control and out of the princess' sight. 

The journey lasted but a few days before Azula's ship was pulled to the shore, but the tides were too strong and you weren't as experienced. Hoping for the best, you waited until nightfall to reach the land. You spent the night searching but had no luck, so you made camp near the docks. After you finished setting your tent, you headed toward the ship you'd been following, hoping to get a glimpse of whatever was happening on deck. Luckily, there were two soldiers conversing while standing watch. 

You climbed onto the ship and hid behind reserve boxes, listening to their exchange from within the shadows.

"I can’t believe I’m in the mission to capture the Dragon of the West," one of them practically squealed. 

"Don't get too excited, I heard he’s not the same anymore." The other one laughed gratingly.  "Besides, it's not like there's gonna be a fight or anything; the princess told them Lord Ozai wants them back at the palace. Poor fools’ gonna board voluntarily."

You stepped back, teeth gritted and fists tightened. Making them walk into a trap was a devious move, but it didn't really shock you. Azula had always been ruthless and calculating. You were about to jump off-board when you tripped and made the box tower collapse, leaving you exposed. 

“Hey!” 

The guards immediately turned your way. Instead of reacting, you found yourself frozen on the spot. It was certainly not a time to be panicking. You took a breath and, with a kick, threw a stream of fire at the man in front of you and ran toward the dock while he recovered. However,  the other guard had alerted the rest so, at the very entrance of the ship, awaited Azula, dressed in a wine-colored night-robe.  

She didn’t even look phased; if much, she was mildly annoyed that you had disrupted her sleep. 

"Long way from home, Y/N. I'm guessing you didn't just come to say hello."

You opened your mouth but no words rolled off your tongue. You raised your hands and lowered your head in surrender, to avoid further trouble.  

You were a more than capable warrior, you knew that. Nevertheless, the sole thought of facing her made your body shake; let alone while outnumbered. 

"That's what I thought," she smirked. "You're a coward, just like my idiot brother. And, just like him, you'll get a coward's treatment. Seize her."

Two soldiers grabbed your arms and roughly pressed them behind your back, restraining you with metal cuffs. 

"You know what to do."

They both bowed their heads and yanked you below deck. As you walked to the cellars, one whispered, "what do we do?" 

The other one huffed. "The cooler, dumbass."

————————

Third-person POV. 

Zuko knocked on the door three times, trying not to seem too anxious. It had already been two days since he arrived home as a hero but, as such, he had been busy with appearances and meetings. He took a step back and fixed his robes, his right foot tapping as he awaited a response. 

The door cracked open, revealing a young woman, a few years older than him. He gave her a small smile but she didn’t see it, her gaze fixated on the wooden floor as she bowed deeply. 

“My prince,” she greeted. “How can I be of service.” 

“Hello.” 

She straightened up. 

“Is Y/N home?” 

Her expression shifted, then she cleared her throat. “Not at the moment.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

At that moment, General Yuan strolled through one of the doors that connected the main area of the house with the other hallways. His eyes were framed by dark circles and his shoulders fell limp, not the way he carried himself outside. 

He faced Zuko’s and immediately stood taller. “Your highness,” he said. “There is something you need to know.” 

———————

For a moment, you eyed the two guards overlooking the yard from an upper balcony. You gave it no mind when one of them rushed downstairs but gulped when the other one fixed his attention on you, nothing good could come from that. Before he caught your eye, you lowered your head and let your shoulders fall, hoping he'd lose interest. Thinking it had worked, you retired to your cell. However, as you walked, your arm was roughly pulled. 

You tried to break free and struggled for a few seconds, trying to root your feet to the ground. The guard easily overpowered you, for you had too little strength to resist, and threw you into an empty cell.

He still had hold of your arm, but you didn’t fight him. It was better to avoid acting up, you had learned that. However, you knew they appreciated respect, so you lifted your head and asked, "What do you want?"

Even the helmet didn’t conceal his shocked façade. “Y/N?” 

He took his helmet off and tears flooded your eyes. You wrapped your arms around his middle and let out an involuntary whimper followed by an excruciating stream of sobs. At first, Zuko was a bit taken aback by your reaction, as his muscles tensed. But then he too faded into the hug and allowed himself to breathe your familiar scent. 

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered. 

“What?” 

“I- I wanted to warn you about Azula.” You take a deep breath, not ready to let go of him. “When your father sent her after you, I followed, but she caught me when I sneaked into her ship and I-.”

He grabbed your shoulders and stretched his arms so he could look at you. His face like porcelain and his mouth agape. 

“You sneaked into my sister’s ship? Alone?” Zuko let go of you and ran his hands through his hair. “Are you, Y/N, are you out of your mind? You could've ended up dead, no-" Now, he was screaming, his golden eyes blazed with worry."-you could've ended up worse than dead!"

 Your lip trembled as you shouted back, "well, surprise, so could you!" 

"You went on a suicide mission, alone!" He started pacing around the small room. "I can't believe you did something so stupid."

"At least I had to try, Zuko." This time, your voice was tight. 

"Y/N, she's. Ahh!" He stopped pacing and threw his head back with a groan. Without a thought, he stepped toward you and, once again, engulfed you in his embrace. "I’m glad you’re okay."

Zuko's head fell limp on your shoulder while he calmed down, your hand rubbed his back soothingly for a moment before he brought back the distance between you.   

"Listen, we're getting out of here."

"How?"

"Just trust me, I'll come to your cell and get you."

He flashed you a quick, closed-lip smile and walked out. You followed after a few seconds and went back to your cell. A few hours passed and you had no news from Zuko, so you headed down the stairs with the rest of the inmates. 

You were mopping the floor, keeping your work focused on a relatively small area of the room when you spotted the familiar mess of raven hair, only now he was dressed in a uniform that matched yours. He dragged his water bucket toward where you were and began mopping next to you. 

"Are you gonna tell me the whole story now?"

You didn’t know what had driven the banished crown prince to break into a high-security prison, but the response you got was far from what you expected. 

“I kind of joined the avatar.” 

“Weren't you trying to capture him so you could go back home?” 

“I’ll explain later,” he said, looking past you and directly at a guard. Zuko grabbed your hand and guided you to where he and another girl in prison uniform were standing.

They gave you a questioning look. 

“Um, guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, Sokka and Suki.” 

After an awkward wave, you took the time to look at them in detail. 

It was a girl you had seen a few times, from a group of Earth Kingdom warriors; and a brunet, blue eyed boy you had never seen but could guess came from a water tribe. They were slightly shocked but didn’t really question your presence, making you relax. 

After a brief explanation of everything that had been going on since you were captured the four of you came up with an escape plan that would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the undesired addition to your team, Chit Sang.

You, Suki, Chit, and another two people he introduced as his girl and best mate would wait for Sokka and Zuko to show up at the blind spot. Then, the all of you would ride the cooler to the other side of the lake. That's where you were now, sitting on a rock with Suki while Chit and his friend discussed over where to go after the escape. 

To be honest, their petty argument was beginning to annoy you, so you turned to Suki, who was using a stick to doodle on the sand. 

“So, how do you know Sokka?” 

Her cheeks reddened slightly so she turned her head sideways. 

“Sokka,” she chuckled, “We first met a few months ago, when he, Katara, and Aang went to my island. The rest of the Kyoshi warriors and I thought they were spies.” 

“Kyoshi, where have I heard…  oh, Avatar Kyoshi,” you recalled. “My father once gave me a scroll about her.” 

You were about to continue, glad you’d found something to talk about, when Chit’s complaint cut you off before either of you could say something else. 

"Took you guys long enough," he scolded Sokka and Zuko, as they slid down the cliff with the cooler. You, Chit and Suki quickly placed yourselves against the cooler to help the others and then the five of you pushed it into the water. 

You were about to go ahead with the plan, when they brought up the following day’s new arrivals. That changed everything. 

“Sokka?” You approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"Rescuing your dad is your chance to redeem your honor,” Zuko noted.

Sokka fell to his knees, deep in thought. 

He looked at the group apologetically. “We wouldn’t be here if I had cut my losses at the invasion,” he sighed. “I think it’s best if we call it quits.” 

You crossed your arms, and stood tall. “No, ” you deadpanned. “I know how it feels to fail, Sokka, specially when it’s someone you really care about.” Your eyes met a pair of golden ones. “It hurts so much not to try. I’ll help you, whatever you need.” 

Without a word, Sokka stood up, and walked closer to the lake with his head low.

Zuko rested a hand on his shoulder. “Y/N’s right, you can’t quit because you’re afraid of failure. How do you know you won't make it if you don't even try.” 

“Well, if you cookies are done, can we get a move on?” Chit glared at you while tapping his foot. 

Sokka shook his head.

“You guys go," you said. 

"Suki, you've been here long enough," Sokka pleaded, stepping closer to her. 

"I'm not leaving without you, Sokka." 

Zuko mimicked Sokka's actions, turning your way. "And I’m not leaving without you."

It was settled. 

"I hope this isn't a huge mistake," Sokka sighed. 

And it wasn’t, the plan failed and Chit and his people were brought back in. He had tried to row the boat and earned a burn, which was followed by a blaring scream. You watched from one of the outer beams of the building while waiting for the new prisoners to disembark the gondola. Your hope threatened to abandon you but, right before you voiced your thoughts to give up, Sokka's dad emerged. 

That's how you ended up in the very place you had started, your cell. You laid on the metal bench provided and closed your eyes, having decided to use the spare time to practice a little. You placed your right hand on the metal wall and outstretched your right, pointing two fingers at the opposite wall. The surface under your palm turned red-hot and that's where you started truly working. 

You exhaled deeply and began absorbing the heat you had generated. Bit by bit so it would efficiently pass through you and leave in the form of a thin trail of smoke. What you were doing required deep concentration so when the door creaked open you didn't even notice the intruder. Your eyes broke open as you retrieved your hands, the wall returning to its initial gray color. 

Sokka was standing in front of the now-closed door, he blinked a few times before finally asking, "were you fire bending metal?"

"Oh, no." You sat up and chuckled, "it's called heat controlling. I project heat into a surface, then let it pass through me and then out, via my other hand." 

"Cool." Sokka's mouth fell. "So it’s like... reversed fire bending.” 

“I guess you can put it like that.”

“Anyway," he spoke with determination, looking through the small window. "I've talked to my dad. We have a plan, be in the yard in an hour and a half. I'll go tell the others." 

“Sure,” you smile. “Thanks, Sokka.” 

The plan was simple: start a riot and use the gondola to escape. Easier said than done, even with the riot, you were still trying to figure out how to grab the warden and, on top of it, had no idea where the fire prince was. Although your uncertainty didn’t last long. Before you knew it, Zuko got his ass to the courtyard, Suki took hold of the warden, and the seven of you ran upstairs to the gondolas.

On the bridge to your awaiting vehicle, you encountered a few guards. You blocked their first attacks but when Zuko announced the warden was coming with you they gave you no more problems. 

"Everyone in," Suki ushered you. 

You let them get in before you as she held the door, then tried to run back and help Zuko, but Suki pulled you in and closed the door. 

From the gondola, you watched him pull the lever and kick it so they wouldn't stop you, your grip on the rail making your sweaty hands pale. He leaped toward you and barely managed to grab Sokka's hand. You let go of the rails and relaxed, knowing you had all made it, but the moment ended when you saw Azula. 

"Shit," you groaned.  

"Who's that?"

"My sister and her friend." 

Suki smirked. "This is a rematch I've been waiting for."

You just huffed and jumped on top of the gondola. As Azula and Ty Lee advanced toward it, you tried to take them down with fire-jabs but Ty Lee was too fast and Azula swung and easily dodged them. They landed on opposite sides, surrounding the four of you. You immediately charged toward the princess, determined not to fall without a good fight. Not this time.

Next to you, Zuko shot multiple fireballs out of his fists but neither of you had luck. Azula redirected every blow and you let out a frustrated growl.

"Even together,” she scoffed, “you’re pathetic."

Again, you tried; opting for a blazing ring to try and knock her out of balance. While you advanced on her Zuko covered you and blocked her blows, this gave Sokka a chance to get near. A blow of his sword took away her balance but she recovered quickly and threw a missile that you managed to dodge by merely a few inches, falling back against the pulley of the gondola. 

You got up once more but Azula's strikes were fast and repetitive, so you and Zuko would wear yourselves down by trying to block each one. You panted, concentrating to maintain your shield well built, but lost your stance when the gondola shook violently. Azula and Ty Lee fled the scene, as the guards were about to cut the line; the four of you jumped back inside and warned the others. But someone stopped the guards, you narrowed your eyes in order to see who and emitted a gasp when you recognized Mai's figure. 

But the situation you were in left no time to ask questions, the six of you sprinted away as soon as the gondola touched land. Zuko stopped after a few yards. 

"Zuko, come on," you urged. 

"Yeah, what are you doing?"

"My sister, she must've arrived here somehow." He ran toward a cliff and smirked when he looked down. He was right, there was a Fire Nation dirigible parked by the seashore. 

To say that you were exhausted after the journey would be an understatement. Not only had the last two days been more draining than the previous few months but you had used your bending to fuel the dirigible the whole way to the Air Temple. You didn’t complain, you were glad to be safe. Not to mention that you finally got a chance to catch up on Zuko’s unlikely adventures.

“We’re here,” Sokka peeped. 

You looked through one of the windows and almost didn’t believe what you saw. You had read multiple scrolls about the magnificent Air Temples and the people that lived in them but had never even imagined visiting one. 

You landed and the door opened. You were hesitant to step outside and Zuko took notice, so he offered you an encouraging smile and squeezed your hand. For a second you had forgotten that he was also a newcomer to the Avatar’s group so he shared part of the nerves you felt; besides, you knew that, whatever reactions you got from them, he’d stand by you. 

A small girl inquired, “did you at least get some good meat?”

“Yup, the best meat of all,” Sokka answered with a beam. “The meat of friendship and fatherhood.” 

That's when the four of you stepped forward, but you remained concealed behind Chit.

The three kids smiled when they saw Suki and Hakoda, and Chit was quick to introduce himself with a matching smile on his face. 

Your hiding place disappeared when Hakoda ran to hug who you guessed was  Sokka's sister, Katara, and the others advanced right after.

When they finished greeting their friends, the group turned its whole attention to you, still standing on the dirigible bridge.

The bald kid, Aang, as Sokka had briefed you, gave you a kind smile; Toph, the little girl, tilted her head in curiosity, and Katara just quirked a brow. 

Zuko cleared his throat, walking to your side. "Everybody, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is everybody."

"Hi, guys," you waved with a shy smile. 

Requests open!

[abbynx]

Stay by my side (Jean-Pierre Polnareff)

Lemon in coming~

This is my first time writing lemon. Please have mercy on me—

"Please,"

Steady stream of tears fell from (e/c) tinted eyes, crystallized with glossy tears as the luminescent flow of the moon shone from above and made way through your room's window, veiling the morose surroundings with an ethereal glow. The optimistic person brimmed with not-so optimistic thoughts dropped to their knees, chest ached with the pang of despair and sheer desperation. Shoulders shook, hands clasped in front of them to pray for the deities out there to listen to them.

That deity... Why, he was the only one you would faithfully worship for the rest of your life, the deity you needed, you yearned for, you love... And you prayed for him not to abandon you like the others.

"P-please, not you too- it shouldn't have to be this way, my love, I beg of you..."

You clung to his arm like a lifeline, you held him like you have never been more afraid to let him go... Perhaps it is the case...

The Frenchman refused to spare a glance at your direction. It was difficult than it already is, he didn't want to see you like this. The smiling fool who refused to waver and lose their smile, was reduced into nothing but a puddle of mess, of despair... The smile... Oh why can't your smile return to you without him needing to remain by your side? If only fate would prevail, but he was bound in a rock and a hard place.

That smile of yours... From the sincerest, to the goofiest. It never failed to infect him. From all the times you spent with him, you found yourself clinging on to him on numerous occasions. From the cheerful moments, and throughout despairing moments... And yet you never wavered. You always find the silver lining and would eventually move forward stronger than ever. You have a way of making Jean-Pierre Polnareff feel special, so accepted, so normal...

The Silver Chariot's user's chest tightened with guilt, but he was determined to set you free... But was he willing to let you go? It's not like he wanted to do this, the aching distance separating you was the one forcing him to do this... The act of revenge. His need to avenge the only family he has, tainted, gone... Sherry was murdered in the most dehumanising way possible.

Gathering all necessary strength, he attempted to pry you off. The ever so persistent Y/N L/N did not budged, but instead held onto it, your fingers interlacing within his slender fingers. The rough sensation of his palm emitted intense heat as you firmly clasped his hand, holding it near your lips, individually kissing his knuckles with every pleas and cries.

"Please, Jean... Don't leave me too... I beg of you, I love you, please don't abandon me like the others did..."

"Y/N please..." His voice came out shakier than he intended. Of course it would, try as he may, he couldn't conceal how he feels. "I can't continue this relationship with you... My existence is a mere compendium of misery... I can't let you be harmed because of me."

"If I lose you-" you shakily choked on your sob, tightly holding onto his hand whilst his ocean tinted gaze merely averted your gaze. Your beautiful eyes... He always found simple joy within dazing in those heavenly pair of (e/c) hued orbs... But he somehow can't bring himself to look at you. "If I lose you... I wouldn't know what to do... You're the only person whom I love who hasn't left me yet... Please... I beg of you... Jean..."

"Let me go, L/N." His voice dangerously dropped low with false resentment. His throat sealed tight with his attempt to prevent himself from sobbing, eyes that held back tears stung. His chest ached with his refusal to breathe, believing that if he does, his façade would break down and collapse.

"Please... I can't live without you... I love you... So much... I don't know what I'd do if you were to leave..." Your trembling hands seized to hold his face, thumb running across his cheeks, eyes deeply fixated upon his eyes with a glossy glint. "You feel the same way, right? You told me you love me, please don't tell me it's a lie... Tell me, is it a lie? Don't you love me?"

"O-of course I love you Y/N, dammit..." A sobs, tears freely leaking from his eyes. He held onto your arms, wanting to pry you off, but you heat emitted comfort that he simply can't let go. And he hated it. He hated that you're right. He can't let you go even if he wants to. He wanted to leave to protect you, but he can't. It was so damn selfish of him. What if something happened to you because of him? "But that's not the point... Y/N I am harbouring an ability that's dangerous and attracts other users... I know the police didn't find any evidence in the crime scene of Sherry's death, but I know it's a work of someone with an ability like mine."

"I don't care what happens to me. I just want to be with you, to protect you even if it costs me life-"

"GODDAMNIT Y/N THAT'S THE POINT!"

You flinched at his unusually solemn tone, as he tightly seized the small of your back, pulling your head to his chest. His chest and shoulders shook with sobs, as tears endlessly oozed from his brilliant ocean tinted eyes.

"If there's anything I fear, it's losing you... Please Y/N, I can't bear to lose you too... Not like that..." He pulls away, and yet you remained close, bodies pressed together, afraid to let go. "I love you... I don't want to let you go... But I don't want you to be hurt, never."

Leaning closer, he firmly presses his plump lips against yours. Holding onto you ever so tightly, he was afraid to ever let you go. His heated palms cupped your face, his thumb delicately stroking your tear stained cheeks with both his and yours, whilst his free hand snakes around the small of your back to pull you closer.

Without a second thought, you immediately returned the kiss as your heart hammered in your chest as if it intended to escape from its deep chasms. Wrapping your arm around his neck, your soft fingers twirling his loose strand of curls whilst the other cupped his cheek.

The French man pulls away, his electric blue gaze upon your magnificent (e/c) hued orbs, before it darts down towards your smiling lips. The dork just have to give him that smile- that smile he swoons over, the smile he adores whenever they wear it naturally across their features because of him.

That sweet smile that sends sweet, heavenly, delightful nudges against his guts that the butterflies in his stomach fed on and will never ever get fed up with it... The Lancelot of a Stand user will never deny to himself that the smile you gave him is the best smile he has ever seen- a smile he would love to see for forever. He wouldn't mind gazing onto them for eternity.

With his bottom lip caught between his pearly white teeth fantasizing about your smile, he sets them free and presses it against yours once more with an audible guttural moan. Leaning a little closer, the pair of couples almost jumped out of their skins when they began tip back and land on the bed.

The silver haired male broke away from the kiss from the sudden fall, as he heartedly chuckled to lightened the sudden predicament at hand. He had you under him, your knees pressed between his, whilst he supported his weight with his elbows with your head between them.

Jean's pale, porcelain of a face dusts with crimson in colour. Despite the darkness, the room was lightly lit with a luminous glow of the moon peaking from your opened balcony from where he entered without shame nor etiquette whatsoever. Other than his obvious tomato face, he saw you...

The Frenchman peered from his silver lashes to admire the ingénue pinned under him. The light glimmer in the eyes that lights up when they smile, the way their skinned basked within the natural glow of the moon lit night... Don't get him started with the cute little blush dusting your cheeks, across their cute nose... No flaws in sight that overshadowed their beauty. They may be critical of their appearance for most of the time, but Jean doesn't get it. You are the most beautiful, most perfect creation he has ever seen that the Goddess of beauty Aphrodite has nothing on you.

Your ambitions, your dreams, your goals, your personality, your interests... All your flaws, all your imperfections... It was a beauty to behold for him. He loved every single bit of you from the purest, to the filthiest. That's how he loves you. He viewed you with Holism. He can't define you with only a single thing about yourself without the need of bringing every part of you up... That's how perfect you were. There's is no word that can define you, other than complex beauty that you are.

And he doesn't understand why you never saw it that way, and why you denied it. And it was his duty to make you know— scratch that... To make you believe your self-worth.

He releases the breathe he didn't realize he was hiding back, with a gentle quirk of his lip to lift it upwards. He was astonished of your beauty that he himself forgot to breathe.

"Well... That could've gone worst—" says the swordsman with a grin. As much as you love his smile, your longing desire for his warm lips against yours empowered you to use your fingers to pinch his chin and lead his lips on top of yours.

Jean-Pierre Polnareff didn't have any room to complain by your sudden interruption, as he admires the way your lips filled in just the right spaces where it felt good. The moment your lips slightly parted to breathe, he slid his tongue within your mouth. Softly moaning, you greatly encouraged this action to resume for both of your pleasures.

As the pair participated in a passionate, heated kiss, his hands found its way into your shirt, sliding his calloused hand as he caressed your bare skin from which you covered with your shirt. Goosebumps erupted from your sensitive skin as the cool, unfamiliar air evaded your exposed stomach whilst the warm, comforting heat of his palm pressed upon your skin calmed you.

The Frenchman tugged on your shirt, wanting it off. Temporarily breaking the kiss, you lifted your shirt off your head before throwing it aside as Jean-Pierre took the chance for his lips to land on yours once more, before it trailed towards your jawline, into your neck, then chest.

His feather-light kisses danced across your chest, grazing every inch of your skin whilst you silently stifled a moan.  The Frenchman found himself letting out a soft grunt upon hearing the carnal desire in your voice, his pants tightening with lust as his lips continued to trail and venture through your skin, further down, further down until his head was between your thighs.

Sickly sweet, you filled his senses and had him intoxicated. He knew it feels so wrong, but it felt so right. He shouldn't be here, he should be distancing himself away for all he brought with his existence were nothing but misfortune and death... And yet he craved for more, more of you. Your presence alone reassured him he was not the bringer of misfortune. With your presence alone he was calm, comforted...

"Jean... I need you... Please..." The silver-haired Frenchman peeks from the valley of your thighs, to see the neediness in your gaze peering through your half-lidded eyes, the colour of crimson lust tinting your cheeks and across your nose.

"Of course, mon amour." The Stand user slips himself off from his shirt, before assisting you to take yours off, his cold fingertips brushing by your skin as he grasped the elastic waistband of your undergarments and pulling it off. The man states within the glimmering gaze of his beloved, glossed with a light layer of tears as it slightly leaks out.

Polnareff leans down, his knees pressed between yours, reaches to caress your cheeks in his calloused palms before his lips found its way in your. Locking lips, his finger lingers from your waist, slowly making its way down until it softly pokes sensitive core, gently and tantalizing motion with your juices soaked his fingers.

"Mmmm— Jean..." You broke away from the kiss with a whimper, burying your face on the crook of his shoulder, coiling your arms around his back as he whispers soothing affirmations and sweet nothings in your ear. As his gentle fingers became progressively rough and swift, you found yourself moaning loudly with pleasure, breathe ragged through gritted teeth as you tightly clung to him. An unfamiliar coil arises from your stomach, as the sense of pleasure filled you. "JEAN— AHH—!" you screamed, as the sudden orgasm exploded upon his touch, you lay panting as he merely smirks and props himself atop you.

"My love... I can't hold on any longer... I need you, too..." His pale hand finds its way through your, interlacing his fingers between yours, squeezing tightly as you squeezed back with a smile. "I love you, Y/N... I'm sorry if I always push you away." He pressed his forehead against yours, as he slowly slid himself inside you.

Your pained squeaks squeezed his chest with guilt, prompting him to press his lips against yours. "Shhh, I'll move once you're ready, ma cherie..."

"Jean..." You reached to stroke his cheek, before connected your lips within his, slipping your tongue as you wait for him to adjust inside you. "I love you... I love you so much... Please don't leave me... If I lose you I wouldn't know what to do..."

The thought of leaving you behind pained him, but the thought of his sister's killer roam around like the free man he is. It tore him apart. It broke him. It was a matter of choosing between to return the honour of his sister, to avenge her... Or to remain by your side, safely living his life with you...

He shook his head, before pressing his lips harder against yours. He couldn't bare to think of anything else within this moment. It would be sullying your passion you have evidently presented to him, knowing your parents' sheltered you all your life to keep you innocent and pure. Here he was the charming good he is, he never knew how you managed to fall in love with, fall in love with him to the point of disobeying your parents and loving him in secret.

Polnareff closes his eyes, before he began thrusting his hips forward, your whimpers and moans echoing across the room as you tightly held onto him like a lifeline. You wrapped your legs around his waist, whilst your arms around his neck.

[koutarousangel]

━ chaos / bokuto kōtarō.

prompt : an angel falls in love with a demon ... quite literally.

genre : angst ... a lot of it

warning(s) : religious undertones, alludes to sex, mention of a blade, slight mention of violence, reader is ... well, a demon.

song recs : falling in reverse ━ eden ; afterthought  ━ joji ; listen before you go ━ billie eilish.

author’s note : i was doing a lucifer rewatch and the bit with maze and amenadiel came up and i was just like 🤔. this was originally meant for kuroo, but i have different plans for him so i was like HMMM who’s the perfect candidate for an angel and ofc .... bo fits the bill cmon now ! title’s inspired by this poem.

EPISODE ONE  ━ the fallen angel.

you had pictured yourself in this position before.

more accurately, you had dreamt of it, your hellblade positioned at the base of his neck, ready to slice the skin open and get him completely off your back, so that you could continue to trapeze through earth, laying waste to the spoils humans had created and the ones they’re also subsequently punished for when they’re in hell.

but you hesitated.

there was a point when the two of you were at each other’s throats, pitted against each other as mortal enemies. fight after fight forced the string of sexual tension to grow taught and at one point it broke apart, and you’d fallen into bed one time after the next.

you hesitated because it was supposed to be a one time thing, a mistake, but you kept looking for him everywhere, and he looked for you and the pillow talk became longer and longer and you learned about each other. you hesitated because there was something in the way that he held you, how he gazed at you, how he gave you a sense of purpose. 

the thought of how you would be ridiculed if you had ever returned to hell disappeared whenever his warm, honey-coloured eyes fell on you, and your heart that wasn’t meant for love beat with a different rhythm, proving so many people wrong.

a demon falling in love with an angel ; how strange.

tears stung the corners of your eyes as you shook your head out of your thoughts, almost losing your grip on the hellblade before you grit your teeth, trying to force yourself to move and get it over with, but the hesitation lasted for a second too long.

fingers encircled both of your wrists and you were flipped over, pinned to the plush bed underneath you as bokuto’s body hovered over yours.

“if you wanted to do it, you shouldn’t have hesitated,” his voice came out in an angry growl, but you could discern the disappointment weaving through the tone of his voice. his hair fell over his eyes, a stark contrast to the spiked upstyle it usually sits in, but even though the trusses of grey hair partially obstructed his golden eyes, betrayal had taken adoration’s place in them. 

a coherent sentence couldn’t make it past your lips, words coming out in a string of babbles, punctuated by a gutteral sob, silent prayers to try and find the right words running laps through your head.

a demon caught in prayer ; how unique.

“i’m sorry,” your voice was a whimper. it was uncharacteristic, seeing as your voice usually drips confidence, accompanied by your snarky words and scheming smirk, traits he’d grown to find endearing, “kōtarō, i’m sorry.”

he grimaced and looked away, holding back his emotions and deciding to stand his ground instead, “no, you’re not,” he pressed down on your wrists more, frustration seeping through his fingertips, “this was your plan from the start.”

“only after i figured out why you were sent,” your confession came out through gritted teeth as you tried to get angry again, hating the helpless feeling that had taken over your body, but then letting your bottom lip tremble again as you let go of the tension in your shoulders, “i don’t want to go back kō, i don’t … please.”

his grip loosened and his eyes glazed over with tears that threatened to stain his flushed cheeks, “i was ready to follow you,” his words came out in a pained whisper, his breath fanning over your face.

wind swirled around the two of you as he extended his wings, items in the vicinity clattering to the ground and making a mess. as you peered up, a small gasp fell past your lips. instead of the pure white you remember seeing the first time, the feathers were greying, some of them had already turned black and some were singed.

your eyebrows knitted together and a frown befell your features as you gently ran your fingers along the blackened feathers, catching his slight wince out of the corner of your eye and you flinched away from his wings.

“i’m not worth it,” all the confidence that is usually present in your voice was snuffed out, replaced with uncertainty. the façade broke even further and the tears streamed freely and steadily down your face as you shook your head, “you don’t deserve hell, you’re good… you can save yourself and go home.”

bokuto let go of your wrists and shushed you as you broke down underneath him, pulling your frame onto his lap and letting you wrap your legs around his waist, cradling your face in his hands and placing his head against your forehead, “you’re worth it all,” he whispers, “screw heaven and hell, wherever you go, i follow.” 

but even after his words managed to calm you down and pressed kisses to every inch of your body, you couldn’t help but feel guilt settle at the pit of your stomach. you gazed at his innocent face as he slept and imagined him amongst the demons of hell and it made you sick.

in the morning he woke up to an empty, cold bed, for you loved him far too much to let him go through hell. and after figuring out that you had left your phone behind, he yelled and broke nearly every single thing in the room, wings extended and pain running through them as more feathers darkened. as he dropped down to his knees and his wings drooped on either side of him, he looked like a broken renaissance painting; the fallen angel.

as you stood in front of the gates of hell, the elder demon towered above you and looked down at you with pure disgust.

“your heart has started to purify.”

that meant you couldn’t get back into hell and you had nowhere to go, “how? i tried to kill an angel.”

the demon tuts and shakes their head in disappointment, looking at you as if you were a toddler and not a high ranking demon, “the angel,” they all but spit, “you fell in love with him and spared his life … it’s pathetic.”

you had nowhere to go … nowhere except earth.

over the span of a couple of hours, you’d gone to hell, gotten banished and sent back to the mortal world, alone. the elder demon was right … it was incredibly pathetic.

sitting at the bar only added to how pathetic the situation actually was; as you swirled your drink over and over, eyes following the amber liquid as it chased itself in circles. a huff exhaled past your lips as you felt a presence beside you, not ready to deal with some sleazebag who wanted to get into your pants. 

but when you looked over, ready to pick a fight, your breath caught in your throat as honey-coloured eyes met yours. 

“heaven doesn’t want me,” he shrugged simply, smile settled on his face, the same blinding smile you’d fallen in love with, the one that had purified your heard.

you let out a small giggle, “and hell’s afraid i’ll take over,” your voice had the same cocky lilt in your voice, smirk crossing your features as you looked up at the fallen angel with pure love in your eyes. the kind of love that neither heaven nor hell could handle.

the red thread taglist : @lovingcupcakeavenue​ @laineywritesstuff​ 

tell me if you’d like to be added to the taglist ! 

[diavolosthots]

How would the brothers react to their mc with a deadly terminal illness and they can’t be saved?

*cracks knuckles* lemme make y'all suffer 😌

Warning: mentions of death, dark thoughts, violence, angst

THE BROTHERS reacting to (their) MC dying of a terminal illness

Lucifer:

His throat would close up and he would just freeze for a moment. He could feel his hands start to shake as he reaches for you, scared of what he might do or say. This is such a cruel joke from life itself. How could this happen? How could he find such happiness only for it to get taken away? His mind would race, assuring you that he'd find a way, but he knows that it's just an empty promise. He needed to be strong for you, put on another façade for you. But you know it's just another way for him to hide his hurt.

Mammon:

Mammon would scream, yell at you, grabbing and shaking your shoulders. How could you?! Why did you let this happen?! Talk to me MC, damnit!! But he didnt mean to yell at you. Hes just so hurt. And you can see it through the tears that are streaming down his face. "You cant leave me, MC, Damnit.... You can't..." His arms would snake around you, holding you tightly against his frame, scared that if he let go, youd be gone way too soon.

Leviathan:

His whole world would stop spinning, dropping whatever he was holding or doing as he slowly turned to face you. His face would hold all the emotions; anger, sadness, hate, and heartbreak. Those beautiful eyes wouldnt hold an ounce of happiness anymore, constantly checking on you to know that today isnt the last day. He would dedicate all his time to you, make sure that you are comfortable and happy, and he will neglect himself. Terrible thoughts would cross his mind, thinking of ways that he could potentially join you in death, but hes already in hell, and it seems like a never ending parade.

Satan:

Anger would seethe through him first. Hes angry at himself, for why would he know magic if it wasnt going to be useful? Why is he this powerful being if he cant even protect the one thing he cares about? He wanted to tear apart everyone and thing in his path. But he knew his anger wouldn't get him very far. Instead, hed pull you in close, his eyes filled with sadness. He would tell you that he will make the best out of it; he would read to you and tell you that he would do anything you want, but you could feel his trembling form against you as he spoke; so much anger... Sadness...

Asmodeus:

His smile would never falter. He would tell you that he will give you the most beautiful last days of your life, completely dedicated to you. But you could hear the pain in his voice as he said those words, trying so hard not to crumble in front of you. He doesnt want you to know that this is more than a heartbreak; this felt like losing your soulmate. In the end, it was you who cradled him up in your arms, feeling him slowly lose control as the tears kept falling. He doesnt want you to leave, because for once in his life he truly felt loved.

Beelzebub:

His face is unreadable at first, his brain processing the information. But you'd soon find yourself in his tight embrace, his fingers digging into your back. He needs to feel you, living and breathing, against his form and if he loosened up his grip even just a bit, hes scared you'd fall from his grasp and into nothingness. He would ask you why, how, and if he could fix it, but both of you knew it wasnt fixable. Both of you knew your time was short lived and he didn't know how to cope with that. Beelzebub would become a part of you at all times, moving through your life as if it was his own, until you took your last breath.

Belphegor:

He cant describe the amount of shock and utter pain he felt during the few moments where your lips uttered those words. His initial reaction is to turn away from you, telling himself that if he leaves now, the heartache wouldn't be so great. But he knew thats a lie. And he knew he needed to be with you. You were pulled tightly against him, his hand would get tangled in your hair while his face was buried between your neck and shoulder. He couldnt bear to see your face, not when his own was showing so much pain and sadness. For once in his life, he hated sleep. He was awake constantly, scared of you slipping through his fingers if he wasnt.

[ficsnroses]

Shower - John Wick x Reader

[not my gif]

❧ Prompts : First time showering together & washing their hair/body in the shower. Requested by two lovely anons 🖤

☒ Word Count : 1.8K

☒ Warnings : Fluff, slight angst. 

☒ Summary : When John comes home hurt and bruised, you help him in the shower, as a more intimate conversation about this insecurities ensues.

❧ A/N : I realize now, as I format this that I really could have made this all fun and less heavy...sorry I guess I was a little emo when I wrote this haha

“John? Baby?” You whisper, a slight gasp secreted at the bruises and cuts that litter his face. Lips parted, he lifts his weary head up towards you eventually, standing deadbeat in the bulky front door of your shared home. His bones tingle with dread, feared on subjecting you to this form of him-

this cold, stoic, damaged form that proves; he bleeds.

John bleeds deep, he hurts deep.

Bloodied fingers holding the wall for support, he sighs wearily, a forced smile upheld smile in great efforts to keep your emotions at bay; prevent you from hurting for him. He’s the love of your life, you his; and he knows this will kill you.

It is killing you.

The lines to his forehead tense, before relaxing; a breathy exhale in exchange for words. “I’m okay, sweetheart.” His deep voice rasps, the blood cursive in your veins immediately chills to the sound of his agony. With a barrel limp in his move, you watch him trudge before you with widened eyes, heart shattering to pieces at the man who stands in front of you. “I’m okay.” He reiterates, gaze intent on the wooden staircase that leads to your bedroom. Your lips twitch, worry currenting through each inch of your being, yet you brave a temperate confidence for him, an assertion that you’d take none of his façade.

“Jonathan, you’re hurt. You’re bleeding and there’s bruises-” He cuts you off with his voice, deep and gruff as he comforts in attempts to ease your fear. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine.” His thumb grazes your cheek with a gentle smile offered your way. “You get some sleep, okay?”

Stunned, you shoot him a speechless look, baffled with a shake to your head in borderline aggravation. “Absolutely not.” You argue, grabbing hold of his bicep. “John,” You start, voice firm and opaque. Beneath the durable exterior that fails to let warmth in, John bleeds. And none know that better than you.

“I know you try to keep this…away from me.” His expression falls downcast, ashamed at the conversation his ears perceive. He never wanted you to be part of this; didn’t want you to live the sin his soul drenched in each and every gruesome day. “But you need to let me help you. Let me take care of you. Please.” You plead, grasping his skin tighter now, before your figure caves, and despite fledged attempts to not, a few absconding tears burn at your cheeks. Gentle cries leaving your lips, you find yourself, arms moving to him, gracious hand soft with a mild, caring cup to his bearded cheek. A few bold cuts litter his skin, a damaged, frail canvas of your mountain of a man stood in front of you; vulnerable.

In this moment, the fear creeps in. The fear of losing the only thing that truly mattered to you; him.

“Hey, hey,” John cooes, a quiet wince when his arms move to hold you. “Sweetheart, I’ll be fine.” He assures, kissing the top of your full locks. “We were going into the city tomorrow, right?” He attempts to ease the conversation into a different direction; something more normal, diverting focus from the dire scars that pepper his face. “Maybe you’ll wear that sundress I love.” He chuckles a masked wince, taking hold of your hand to plant a small kiss to your palm. “It’s going to be beautiful out tomorrow.” He sighs, desperately trying to ease your tense limbs.

Comprehending John was now taking care of you, rather than you him, you move, an ache of rhythmic pulse to your temple slowly pounding in beating pleats. Compelled, you wipe away your tears in a swift motion, a firm hold offered to his bicep. “John, not now.” You exhale, taking hold of his hand as you lead him to the washroom. “We need to get you cleaned up.” Hesitant, yet yearning for your touch, he shakes his head in disagreement, unsure of how to reject. He didn’t want you tending to his scares; it wasn’t your job.

Your job was solely to love him, and to be loved in return.

Not to carry his demons.

“Y/N, I-” He starts, yet your hand moves to his chest. “John, please.” You beg, looking down. “Please just trust me. That’s how this works.” You speak, emphatic when you gesture between your proximate bodies. “You trust me, right?” You whisper, cupping his cheek.

He nods, eyes worn out and expression ridged at your murmur of plead. ‘I do trust you. More than anything.” He mumbles in defeat, unable to hold your piercing gaze. He’s humiliated, ashamed of who he is.

What he is.

Voice thick with pain for your lover, you hold your hand to his cheek as he stares at you, blinking hurt. “Take your clothes off, baby. We need to clean your bruises.” Whispering, you feel your heart ache. His figure doesn’t move, still in the moment as he drinks you in, the way you’ve set aside everything to tend to him now, in this moment. Where his welfare is what triumphs over all, and the world around seems to cease a pause, on hold for him.

You gently remove his suit jacket as he watches, fingers delicately undoing his tie thereafter. John still is unable to move. He doesn’t say anything, and apart from the roaring rain outside that pelt upon the roof, the air around falls silent. A haze of your connection all that’s left to drown out around. Careful of his bruises, you undo his buttons, peeling his shirt off his torso. Wounded and battered, you catch sight of his stomach, a few meagre cuts slashed into his chest, deep purple bruises to his ribs. It takes everything in your being to not kiss each of them. Honey them, painted seamlessly in love.

Undoing his belt buckle, it falls to the floor in a loud clink, your hands peeling down his slacks and boxers, leaving him nude and exposed for you. Discolorations and welts shower his skin, and you feel more tears scorch in your orbs. “You trust me, right?” You blink, kissing his cheek briefly with his face held in your hands, biting back your tears.

“I do.” He replies, smoky voice confident. Allowing a gentle squeeze to his hand, you move away, stripping yourself of all of the clothes that shield your body, left nude and exposed in front of him. John and you had made love before, many times, seen each other naked as well. But you had yet to share a shower together; hadn’t been intimate in this exclusive, savouringly fresh way yet.

As you hold his hand, guiding him to the steamy shower spray, his throaty ring quietly chuckles, eliciting a small sigh of restlessness. “I always thought of showering together, but not like this.” Shooting him a curious look, he continues. “Always thought it would be as I made love to you. Not while you…” Ceasing to finish his sentence, the thoughts of you cleaning his wounds burns his mind again, defeated eyes disheartened once more.

“Hey.” You assure, a reassuring kiss to his lips. “It’ll happen for us. When you get better.” You smile tenderly, closing the shower door as the stream cascades down your bodies. You start off by lathering some mild body wash to his chest as he gazes down at you, watching the way the water blurs his vision. Expressions crease as water drips down his nose and mouth, dew drops pooling around his full lips that taut in a straight line. Gentle and discreet, you allow the water to wash away his rouge blood, deep and maroon tinted water pooled at your feet. Washing the life away from him. The spray is warm, comforting, soothing to his tensed and aching muscles, the smell of your eucalyptus wash a refreshing change.

“You’re okay, baby? Does it burn?” You inquire, pressing mindless kisses to his rosy lips as you please; whenever his eyes fall slightly downcast, whenever you feel his degradation blistering his thoughts. The water droplet taste revitalising between your joint lips, your hands smoothing over his biceps and arms, over his back, feeling him close.

“I’m okay.” He replies, quiet, intently watching you. “Thank you.” He sighs, connecting your foreheads in gratified affection. “I’m sorry you have to do this.” Lathering his chocolate mane with shampoo, you massage his scalp, making sure to gently wash away all the dirt that lingers, making sure to be gentle, careful of the penetrating headache that probably drags at his temples.

Washed away under the stream, he whispers words of affection, love, admiration for you. Words that no one would ever dream leave the Boogyman’s lips, yet for you, stood so real. So true.

And to the sound of those words, you kiss his lips again, before gently drifting down lingering kisses, tender and soft placed to his neck, his collarbone, a few more stippled lightly to his chest. You kiss each bruise, each shading trace of deep mauve to his skin, littering the pain with something sweeter, something so lovely.

Gently, John wraps his arms around you tighter, the steady stream of warm water seeping down your attached bodies, and his lips begin to explore your skin as well. Muffled, yet heard in the reservation of you, his words bliss your ears in a beautiful melody so pure, something so uniquely John;

your John, not the John that roamed the depths of the dark world of sin, clawing his chains in weary attempts to escape the grim.

Your John, knew none of that. Your John is loving, caring, and feels so deeply. He feels deeper, harder, brimmed with warm love-deeper than he bleeds. Deeper than the wounds that spatter his thick skin.

“I love you, so much Y/N” He whispers against your skin, kissing just above your cleavage, tender pecks murmured to the silky dip of your neck, your wrists, each inch of your arms. With his arms around you durable, he gentle cups your face in both his hands, your back cornered against the cold tile wall. “So much, Y/N.” His head shakes. “I don’t deserve what you are to me.” He chokes, and if there weren’t droplets of water already stippling his features, you’d swore his eyes had filled with aqua laced tears. “Thank you.” He whispers, your naked bodies pressed together, so inclined, a different type of intimacy than you’d experience before. This was deeper than making love, deeper than anything prior.

This was real, this was his barriers, his walls crumbling down around him, allowing you in for the first time ever. Allowing you to see each inch of him, each depth of his entirety that he had shielded away before.

With your voice quiet and subtle, you cup his cheek, a gentle kiss pressed to his lips. “You deserve, baby. And you’re all I ever wanted.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[twiceblackvelvet]

Five Years

requested, sort of.  

a/n; hi, i had half of this drafted and decided to finish it up just to give you all... something because i felt a bit guilty lmao. the original prompt was "I just wished you really meant it when you said you loved me back" but i decided to change it up a little bit, hope you enjoy! 

tw // mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of death (kinda?)

Did you know, the first cardboard box was created back in 1871? An Englishman produced it, likely by accident and it became a commercial success. But, he probably didn’t think that one of it’s most common uses today would be to transport your personal items from one place to another, more often than not whenever a negative situation arises. 

Someone loses their job? They pack their things up in a cardboard box. You break up with your girlfriend of the last five years despite her claiming she’d never hurt you but then ended up doing it all throughout your time together? Pack all of your memories into a cardboard box... or multiple.

The first year was the easiest, the best… everything seemed a lot more simple back then. Dinner at new, expensive restaurants that neither of you could truly afford or wine tasting bottles from far beyond either of you were even born. It wasn’t practical, nor was it smart to use up the majority of your pay slips for the month on such exuberant dates but it became a thing… your thing… together. Now, those same wine glasses the two of you purchased in hopes of one day having the bottle worth more than your life to go along with it are about to be split apart like the two of you. The reviews about the best nights of your life haunting your phone whenever you decide to scroll through it idly, anything to take your mind off her and the end of what was supposed to be your forever.

Back then, at least, it felt like your forever. The nights simply laughing at ridiculous jokes or watching those old Hollywood classics where the main protagonist is a burly man and his only purpose is to save the frail,  meek young woman from whatever is ailing her. You’d always mock how ridiculous the plot was and how neither of you needed saved from anything. The truth, however, is that you possibly needed saving from each other more than anything else.

The second year brought change. A new job for her meant far less time together than usual, but you both agreed to make it work, both agreed to put in the effort necessary to continue your relationship. It lasted, for a small while. But then meetings or appointments began to crop up seemingly out of nowhere and whilst it had begun to affect you both, neither of you bothered to address it. Smiling and waving away the nagging doubts in the back of your minds instead of facing it head on. Thinking about it now, you’re sure this is where the downfall began. It’s quite a feat you were both able to remain for another three years afterward.

You’d be lying to say that you didn’t think for quite some time that perhaps it wasn’t the job which was distracting Siyeon or taking up all of her attention, but rather that she had met someone else. Someone she had perhaps fallen for without realizing until it was too late. Someone she loved more than you. But, there were never any red flags about her being with anyone other than you, your life within the bedroom department remained steady and you’re certain she wouldn’t be capable of that if their were another person for her to sleep with.

The third year is a blur. Empty promises of adventures and quality time together that somehow always managed to blow up right before you both mere moments before you were due to finally have the space or freedom to be a couple. The late nights at the office becoming more frequent than not, sometimes neither of you would even see each other whatsoever for days on end. A coat would sometimes rest on the back of the living room chair to signal she was home, but physically, her presence was not anywhere to be seen in your shared apartment, in your mind and worst of all in your heart.

Communication began to dwindle and loneliness replaced the full feeling you used to feel deep down inside. You’re not even sure the two of you did speak at all at this point. She was merely a light breeze whisking in and out of your life whenever she pleased leaving behind a coldness that couldn’t possibly be cured. No amount of warmth could melt the icy barricade you’d built up around yourself.

The fourth year was full of trying. Real, honest trying. Both of you finally wising up to the fact that things were heading for disaster if nothing changed and fast. It wasn’t anywhere close to the first year, nor was it anything for either of you to be proud of. You’re sure if a relationship counsellor looked into the connection between you both they’d have told you things were dead in the water already, but you both tried. Even if that meant quick ten minute “dates” where eye contact couldn’t even be maintained. In reality, it was eating one meal together maybe once a month if you were lucky where she’d offer you small talk as if you were strangers meeting for the first time.

It wasn’t honest trying, nor was it real. It was a delusion. A façade. A lie to yourself in order to be able to keep some form of hold on this relationship that you refused to let go of for reasons you’re no longer sure about. Whatever the reason was at the time, you regret it now and wish you had just left when things went downhill the first time rather than putting yourself through extra heartbreak for someone who couldn’t care less about you, your relationship or sometimes even herself.

This year, everything fell apart. You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that both you and Siyeon had managed to self-destruct within the confinements of your relationship. She began staying at random hotels, sometimes not even sleeping in a bed at all but rather resting wherever her head landed after a long night of drinking away her days work. That didn’t last, as she was eventually fired for not showing up, or showing up under the influence. You’re not even sure which as your brain had stopped processing her slurred words half-way through the conversation. She promised to find a new job and get back on her feet as soon as possible, instead, your savings account balance ended up being raided and left without a penny to feed her habit.

Despite every part of you screaming that you should leave and not think twice about it, a guilty feeling would always spring up into your head and chest whenever the fleeting thought crossed your mind. Fear consumed your every thought that she’d one day end up on the news having been found in a ditch unconscious or worse no longer alive.

Surprisingly, the breaking point finally came about from something far less dramatic. It’s what you needed otherwise it’s very possible that ten, twenty or even thirty years from now you could both be still stuck in the exact same position, moving around each other rather than with each other. Avoiding any and all confrontation in case it made her situation worse and putting up with all of the small things that have ended up building up a far larger pile of problems.

Nothing from this relationship has been fair on your heart or mind. It’s been a relentless battle everyday from the second your eyes open in the morning to when they close again after your mind has finished it’s final spin of thoughts, self-doubt, self-hatred as well as resentment for the person that the body lying mere inches away from your own belongs to. Well, when she does decide to return home and sleep beside you that is.  You never imagined a day would come where you hate Siyeon, despise her in fact, and yet whenever you see her perfectly sculpted face now that is slowly beginning to show the wares of her alcohol abuse, you’re left with inner torment and pain, rather than the  happiness you had once upon a time felt. Though, you’d be lying to yourself if you were to deny the fact you do still have a tiny amount of love left within you for her.

The weekend prior to the fall out, your family had decided to pay the two of you a visit. This alone was rather out of the blue and peculiar, however, you agreed to open up your home, if you can call it that, to them and Siyeon promised she would be there if only to keep up the appearance of a happy life together. But, as always, she was nowhere to be found. Not even a single text or phone call to explain why she had decided to not show up or why she had left you to try and explain away how she’s just “too busy lately” but that you’re both still as in love as ever. Her days are only ever busy with which hard liquor to pour down her throat next.

Nobody bought it. In fact, hiring someone in a clown suit to come and recite a monologue of known lies would have been more convincing than the performance you attempted to put on. It took all of one question to finally break the dam and unleash everything you’d been holding back from them all.

“Are you happy with her?”

The answer perched itself onto the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out at any second, however, your eyes had other plans and instead allowed a steady stream of tears to douse your face. Everyone in the room remained stiff, stuck in place almost as if they were scared to breathe too loud out of fear it would break you further.

It was mid-week by the time she decided to finally return home. Your clothes neatly packed into a suitcase by the front door, everything else slotted into a cardboard box as best as possible. Old newspaper wrapped around some of the more fragile items, something you wish were able to protect your heart too. She stalked past all of it without even a second glance, nor did she bother to look your way as you sit on the edge of your seat hoping desperately that she’ll finally see how her actions have broken you both. Perhaps, offer an apology and make some actual promises that she will keep and the two of you could return to the happy place you once adored and cherished.

Instead, she moves toward the kitchen to grab a glass from the cupboard and pour herself some juice from the fridge. Her head resting in her hands as she sits down at the dining table. Her face looks tired and clothes unkempt. Whichever hole she decided to stay in this time, she hasn’t been taking care of herself that much is clear. But you’re far too enraged by her ignorance to offer her the last drop of sympathy remaining within you.

“They waited for you. They waited all weekend for you to show your face even just for a few seconds, and you couldn’t even do that for me.” Her head dropping further down onto the table, you hope out of embarrassment but you doubt it. “I asked you for one thing. Just one single thing, Siyeon.”

As you expected, she doesn’t speak. Her body moves every now and then from her breathing but nothing more. You’re not sure you even want her to say anything but the silence only further fuels the anger you’ve allowed to brew within you.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do us.” Her body finally sits itself up and her eyes lock onto your own immediately. “You’ve taken too much from me these last five years and I’m tired of it. Things were supposed to be different between us, you were supposed to be the person I spent the rest of my life with. Now, you’ll always be the person I wish I’d never met at all.”

You turn away from her before you say something that you may end up regretting, however, her hand latches itself around your wrist as she pulls you back toward her encasing your retreating body into a loose hug that you don’t reciprocate, instead allowing your hands to rest inside your coat pocket to make sure they don’t weakly hold her in return. Her shoulders slump upon realizing you aren’t going to offer her any lasting piece of affection and she nods her head in self-realization that things really are over as she pulls away.

"I love you. I need you to know that. I always loved you and I always will. I’m just not good enough for you, I never will be." She says, eyes dazzling from the light reflecting on her tears she’s holding back. She groggily sits back down in her seat, head once more resting her hands, however, they wipe away a few stray tears that managed to escape.

Without giving it a second thought you turn to leave one more, because you’re sure that if you had thought about it even for a second longer than she deserves, you’d end up falling back into her arms and back into the depressed state you’d been ignoring. Picking up the suitcase and opening the front door, you can’t help but whisper out words you know that Siyeon can’t possibly hear, but you need to let them out regardless in order to finally say goodbye to everything you’ve both been through.

“I wish I could believe you, but I love you too.”

[destinyvoiddreaming]

Bad Things Happen Bingo 1

Summary: Tommy’s having a bad day and the stress of everything gets to him. What’s worse, though, is how he’s already spiraling down a rabbit hole.

Notes: Written based around three prompts, which are listed at the endnotes, along with some songs that are mentioned within the story.

           This story is me writing the CC’s minesonas and putting them in the real world. I haven’t watched the CC’s videos/streams for a while, so I am basing this purely off of memory and fanfic, so I apologise for any inaccuracy or OOC-ness.

Warnings: Referenced abuse, Implied past abuse

Also Posted: Ao3 (LightningCyclone)

Tommy sighed as he ended the stream, looking at the mountain of schoolwork he had to do. Damn it. Better get started on it, though, or else it’d overflow and he’d never finish it. He opened a voice chat on discord, just in case someone wanted to talk. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself. He didn’t want to tell himself the real reason.

Over the next hour, Tommy played some music in the background while he completed his homework. It was slow going, but he eventually finished it and decided to just mess around with the guitar he keeps in his room.

«»«»«»

Wilbur smiled when he saw Tommy in a vc on discord. He’d started a ‘Just Chatting!’ stream on Twitch a couple hours ago, and he was really enjoying himself. However…

“Chat, d’you want to see if Tommy wants to chat with us?”

Replies, almost immediately, started flooding the chat, overwhelmingly affirmative, so Wilbur joined the vc Tommy was in and went to greet him when he heard the strumming.

“Wasting your time, you’re wasting mine,

Hate to see you leaving, fate worse than dying.

Your city gave me asthma, that’s why I’m fucking leaving,

Your water gave me cancer, the pavement hurt my feelings.

Shout at the wall, ‘cause the walls don’t fucking love you.

Shout at the wall, ‘cause the walls don’t fucking love you.

There’s a reason London puts barriers on the tube line.

There’s a reason London puts barriers on the rails.

There’s a reason London puts barriers on the tube line.

There’s a reason London puts barriers on the rails.

There’s a reason London puts barriers on the tube line.

There’s a reason. They fail.”

Wilbur, though he was concerned at the amount of emotion Tommy was singing with, hid it behind a smile as he gave an applause with his chat spamming compliments for Tommy’s singing.

«»«»«»

FreshSmash: Doesn’t he sound like that one really small-time YouTube singer, Songbird or something?

Wawawoo: Yeah, he does

DorkyCocoa: Who?

«»«»«»

Tommy startled at the applause coming from his headphones and almost dropped his guitar trying to put them on.

“Woo! Tommy, that was awesome!”

“Thanks, Big dubs! I was really fucking bored, so I decided to just fiddle around with my guitar.”

“Well, you’re really good at it. I’m currently streaming, but I think it’s time to finish it off, wouldn’t you?”

“How about one more song, Wil? I’ve taken a look at your chat, and it seems like they want another one.”

Affirmative replies spammed through the chat, and Tommy laughed.

“Okay! I’ve got a song in mind, if you’d like me to sing it…?”

“Go ahead, Tommy!”

“This one is directed to a person or two in particular, but I’m not mentioning them; they’ll know it’s them if they watch this.”

“Okay. Start when you’re ready.”

“You gave me a shoulder when I needed it,

You showed me love when I wasn’t feeling it,

You helped me fight when I was giving in,

And you made me laugh when I was losing it.

‘Cause you are, you are, the reason why I’m still hanging on.

‘Cause you are, you are, the reason why my head is still above water.

And if I could, I’d get you the moon, and give it to you.

And if death was coming for you, I’d give my life for you.

‘Cause you are, you are, the reason why I’m still hanging on.

‘Cause you are, you are, the reason why my head is still above water.

And if I could, I’d get you the moon, and give it to you.

And if death was coming for you, I’d give my life for you.

‘Cause you are, you are, ooh, you are.

Ooh, you are, you are.

‘Cause you are, you are, the reason why I’m still hanging on.

‘Cause you are, you are, the reason why my head is still above water.

And if I could, I’d get you the moon, and give it to you.

And if death was coming for you, I’d give my life for you.”

“Wow. That was really good, Tommy!”

“Thanks, Wil.”

“Anyway, it’s time to end this stream, so, thank you all for coming down, it’s been fun. I’ll try to stream more again soon, it’s been wonderful having you all here, goodnight!”

«»«»«»

Wilbur closed down his stream, exiting out of twitch and focusing fully on the discord call he was in with Tommy.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you turn on your camera?”

“… Okay.”

The camera flicked on, revealing Tommy’s tear-streaked face, his right eye bruising and lip swollen.

“Oh, Tommy…”

“Yeah.”

“Why were you singing Jubilee Line? You know where the lyrics came from, right?”

“I… Yeah. Yeah, I do know where the lyrics came from. That was… That was kinda the point, sort of?”

“Tommy, those lyrics came from a really bad place.”

“I know, Wil.”

“Why were you singing them?”

“The lyrics came from a bad place, I know this. And, sometimes… It feels like I’m being sucked further down a rabbit hole. A bad one. And I don’t know how to get out.”

«»«»«»

Wilbur went silent.

“But- but I should be able to get out, right? So, why can’t I? Am I that- that stupid, that I can’t get out of it? I-”

“Tommy.”

“Yeah?”

“What- what’s the rabbit hole like? How’d you fall into it?”

“I- It was… It was small, unnoticeable, at first and…”

«»«»«»

Wilbur listened, upset and horrified, as Tommy told his story. How hadn’t they noticed it? How hadn’t they noticed that the youngest on the SMP was struggling so much?

If the people doing this to you want it to be hidden, then you go to every measure you can to make sure no one finds out, a traitorous voice in his head whispered. Just like you did.

“Tommy, your parents shouldn’t be doing that to you. That- that’s abuse, and neglect, and-”

“I know it is, Wil, but I can’t just leave!” Tommy’s voice was choked with tears, like he was trying to hold the sobs back.

The sound of a door opening sounded through the vc, and a human silhouette showed in the light that came from the open doorway. The figure, whoever they were, caused Tommy to relax, which Wilbur was thankful for. The person was decently tall, possibly taller than Tommy, if only slightly, and their blonde hair was eerily similar to Tommy’s. Must be a relative, then.

The person was whispering to Tommy, and, though Wilbur couldn’t hear what was being said, he knew that it was calming Tommy down.

Wilbur watched on as Tommy slowly let down the façade he put up, melting into a hug from the figure.

«»«»«»

Cadmus smiled down at his brother, before glancing up at the screen that was still glowing slightly from the discord call Theo was in with Wilbur.

“Thanks, mate.”

“It’s no problem, um…”

“Clay. Tommy’s older brother.”

“Well, it’s no problem, Clay. Look after him, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll log off now, hope he feels better in the morning.”

“Bye, Wilbur.”

Cadmus logged out of the vc and closed discord, before saving the websites Theo would need for school later on and shutting the computer down.

«»«»«»

Wilbur sighed as the person logged out of the vc and discord as a whole, before remembering that he’d somehow known his name. It could be that Tommy talked about the SMP members and basic appearances, but the man’s voice was somewhat familiar as well.

Come to think of it, actually, he’d spoken with Clay before, but where?

«»«»«»

Cadmus took a breath before pulling Theo tighter to him and picking him up, moving him to the bed and laying down next to his younger brother. Theo seemed to snuggle closer to him, and so he started running his fingers through his brother’s untamable hair, causing Theo to start crying into his chest.

God, this kid…

Notes: Anonymous Singer!Tommyinnit is mentioned, but never explicitly stated. Also, ‘Clay’ is a fake name, obviously, that Tommy (Theo)’s brother gives to Wilbur. This is probably going to be the first part in a series, and there’s a vague hint to who ‘Clay’/Cadmus is, so you can make guesses in the comments, and I’ll do my best to respond to them.

Bad Things Happen Bingo (Tumblr):

Prompt: Cry into chest

MCYT prompts (Ao3; littlepisspie):

Prompt: Chapter 4 – Tommy sitting in vc alone, starts singing, Wilbur streaming and joins, etc.

Songs (YouTube):

Prompt: Jubilee Line – Wilbur Soot

Prompt: Get You The Moon – Kina

[kpop-zone]

Lose You To Love Me | Yeji

Genre: angst (although I think it kind of has a happy ending?)

Wordcount: 2,905

Request: I’d like to request for itzy yeji scenario where you have known that she’s been cheating on you all these time but you never confront her. Until one day you just exploded and said that you wished you never met her.

A/N: Kinda feel like this one is rushed and the ending is weak, but I hope, you can still enjoy it :D Happy angsty Valentine’s day!

Yeji had been next to you since you could think.

She had lived in a house just two blocks from yours and you had met each other in your first year of kindergarten. Although the other children had constantly changed their playing buddies, not the two of you. You were like peanut butter and jelly, inseparable. Growing up together, you saw the other change, but your friendship was the steady constant in both of your lives. No matter what hurdle came in your way, you took it together. Your first F in elementary school, the mean kids in middle school or your first heartbreak in high school. There was nothing that could shake you, because Yeji was by your side.

In the last year of high school, Yeji had confessed her feelings to you. You were taken aback because you had never thought that a girl like Yeji could fall for you. But you were also happy. What could be better than to share every aspect of your life with your best friend? So you opened yourself up to her and in no time, you felt the same. And for the first time, you experienced what complete, utter happiness felt like. Yeji fulfilled your every wish and it seemed like everything in your life was as it was supposed to be.

Therefore, you didn’t worry when you graduated. Your relationship had been through various hardships, going to college was just another new beginning that you would tackle together. You applied for the same college and you actually got in together. You felt ecstatic, blind to see that Yeji didn’t seem to be as happy as you about your luck. While you had already started to figure out a plan to take advantage of your new earned freedom, Yeji silently tagged along.

But as soon as you entered college, it was like Yeji was revitalized. She downright flourished and you were so happy to see her thriving that you didn’t even realize that you slowly drifted apart.

It was a gradual process.

First, Yeji found new friends, never introducing you to them, however, with the reasoning that you wouldn’t like them. You accepted her decision, thinking that a little separation couldn’t harm the two of you. But slowly the physical separation turned into an emotional as well. The two of you didn’t talk like you used to. You learned about important occurrences in Yeji’s life through other people and she never turned to you when she had to make a hard decision.

Having her around you, made shivers run down your spine, because the comfort that she once gave turned into a cold touch.

But you didn’t think much about it in the beginning. Every relationship had its dips, you thought. Yeji was solely figuring out who she was. There was no need to worry. As long as it just stayed with the excessive use of alcohol, blurry nights and the complete neglection of your relationship, you could still work things out.

After a while, however, you couldn’t turn a blind eye to all the other little things that accumulated over time. The smudged lipstick. The unfamiliar clothes laying in her room. The faint scent of perfume on her skin that wasn’t hers.

You weren’t dumb, but for the sake of your relationship you pretended to be. You gave Yeji the space that she needed and tried to convince yourself that she would come to her senses after a while, realizing what she would throw away if she kept going. Selflessly, you let her crawl back into your bed late at night although you knew that she had been laying in the arms of another before. You tried to give her what she needed, in order to make her stay. Hoping that she would stop betraying you eventually.

But she didn’t.

You were already half asleep when the door to your dorm opened loudly and your drunken girlfriend stumbled into the room. You didn’t bother to sit up, pretending that you didn’t hear her entrance. But your girlfriend didn’t care about that. Lazily she leaned over you, starting to kiss your neck.

“Are you awake?”

She slurred into your ear and you huffed annoyed, trying to push her off.

But Yeji only giggled, continuing to leave openmouthed kisses all over you.

You were about to give in to her when the scent of an unfamiliar perfume suddenly reached your nose and you knew that she had done it again. Tears immediately stung to your eyes and your heart broke under the weight that had just become a little too heavy to endure. With a frustrated scream, you pushed Yeji off you, making her fall to the ground with a loud bang. She looked at you with wide eyes, now seeming a lot more sober than before. When she saw the tears streaming down your face, her expression changed from shock to concern though.

“What’s wrong baby? Did I hurt you?”

She asked, leaping to her feet to console you. But you flinched back like she was a stranger.

“You of all people have to ask this question.”

You spat out while a bitter laugh escaped your lips.

Yeji looked at you in confusion and the anger inside of you almost boiled over. How could she stand so innocently in front of you although she had been the one stabbing your back over and over again?

“What do you mean?”

She asked, trying to reach out for you another time, but you swatted away her hand immediately.

“Was it so bad to be my girlfriend?”

You responded instead of a real answer, all the built-up hurt lacing your voice. You didn’t want her to know how broken you were, angrily wiping away your own tears, but they kept streaming down your cheeks without cease.

“No, I love you. You know that, jagi.”

Yeji answered with a soft voice, triggering the time bomb that had been slumbering inside of you.

“Shut up!”

You yelled at her in desperation and Yeji winced at your outburst.

“How can you love me while sleeping with other people?”

Your voice cracked because you couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore and Yeji’s façade finally cracked. She avoided your gaze, guiltily looking on the floor.

“Since when do you know?”

She asked silently and you shook your head.

“You cheat on me and that’s what you have to say?”

Every word of Yeji managed to rip your chest open even further and you wished that you could just turn back time. Go back to the point where everything began to get out of control and start over.

“I’m sorry...”

Yeji mumbled hardly audible and you huffed.

“Are you? So are you going to tell me that it was just an accident now?”

You chimed in provocatively while crossing your arms defensively.

Yeji helplessly searched for your eyes, opening and closing her mouth at a loss for words.

“I..I...”

She stammered, unable to form any coherent sentences.

“You used to be a better liar.”

You rolled your eyes impatiently, being completely possessed by your anger and pain now.

“I don’t want to hurt you...”

Yeji breathed while tears started to well up in her eyes.

“It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?”

You chuckled bitterly, knowing that your chest had already been ripped wide-open.

“I didn’t mean to though... We’ve just been together for so long. I felt like, I couldn’t breathe...”

Yeji tried to explain and although you thought that your heart had already been broken into a million pieces, you could feel it being shattered again.

“So it’s my fault then?”

You asked in disbelief and Yeji shook her head.

“No that’s not what I meant. I...”

She clearly couldn’t find the right words, but you didn’t have time for her excuses.

“You’re pathetic Yeji. I can’t believe, I fought for you despite everything you have done.”

You gritted though your teeth, making Yeji bury her face into her hands.

“I know. But please don’t give up on me Y/N.”

She sobbed, and you felt like walking up to her and shaking her shoulders.

Give up on her? She had been the one giving up on you. How dare her, putting the end of this relationship on you? Expecting you to fight again while she had never put any effort into it?

Disappointed you shook your head.

“I wish, I had never met you.”

Your voice was calm and cold like ice. You had wished to turn back time to the point where everything went wrong. But now you could suddenly see things clearly. Yeji was a monster, sucking all happiness and energy out of her victims. You would have been better off living without her.

“Don’t say that...”

Yeji whispered between sobs, but your tears had died down by now.

“Don’t you remember how we played as kids? All the good times we had throughout our time together?”

Her voice was pleading, but you had built walls around you to stop yourself from bleeding out.

“I do, Yeji. But I wish I didn’t. Because it makes it all the more painful that you just threw everything away so recklessly.”

Your heart hurt. For the first time in your life, you were all alone. You had just lost the constant that had always been by your side. You felt vulnerable and alone. But there was no turning back.

Slowly you dragged your feet to the door, hearing Yeji’s sobs echoing in the room behind you. But you kept going. When you left the room, you felt like on tracks while the world was flying past you. Nothing seemed to be real. You didn’t know where you should go. The person that had usually waited for you with open arms was no longer in your life.

Therefore, you wandered around campus aimlessly until you sat down at the foot of a tree, hugging your legs tightly in hope for comfort. But you knew that nothing could fill the hole that had just been ripped into your heart. In the next weeks, you would be like an animal bred in captivation, being released into the wild for the first time. How were you supposed to get around? It had always been Yeji and you against the world.

But how could you fight if a part of you was missing?

You were proven to be right. Anxiety was your constant companion the next weeks. Although Yeji had neglected your relationship the past months, you had always had the knowledge in the back of your mind that she would be there to catch you. But now you felt like freeclimbing the Mount Everest. And on top of it all, you had to spend most of your day running away from Yeji. She tried to catch you after your classes or in front of your dorm, causing you to sleep at a friend’s place most of the time. You couldn’t face her right now.

The only consolidation you could find during this time was the knowledge that Yeji didn’t seem to be doing any better. Dark rings underlined her eyes and she constantly seemed to just have stopped crying. Every time you saw her from afar, your heart pulled you towards her, but you couldn’t slack off. You weren’t allowed to let her in again. Healing was a lengthy process and you couldn’t risk a relapse, only for trying to save her again.

So you fought through the process. Your nights were filled with tears and sobs that rippled through your body so violently that you were sore the next morning. The days were all the same after a while. Dull and long. But you didn’t give up. A broken heart had to mend like a broken bone, you told yourself. The process was painful and consisted of several steps. At first, you had to let it heal off before starting to slowly get it back to its old shape.

Therefore, you started to focus on the things that you had once enjoyed in life. Gradually increasing your dose until you managed to spend complete days without thinking about Yeji once. And at the end of the term, you actually felt like an almost complete human again. Maybe it was true what people said. What didn’t kill you, actually made you stronger.

At first you truly felt like dying, but then you realized that, although it had felt like it, the world didn’t revolve around Yeji. It kept spinning, even after she was out of the picture. And you learnt even more. You learnt that you were strong enough to conquer it on your own. You didn’t need Yeji by your side.

All this time you had spent loving Yeji that you had forgotten to love yourself. But you deserved the same love that you had given her. Now that you didn’t have to spend all your time on mending the relationship with Yeji, you could actually spend the time on mending the relationship with yourself. Eventually making you strong enough to reflect the past.

You realized that this whole catastrophe wasn’t only to blame on Yeji. You had made mistakes, too, that manifested themselves in Yeji’s actions. It wasn’t an excuse, but it helped you to accept that your realtionship had been sailing into the wrong direction for a long time now.

Which didn’t mean, however, that you didn’t still love Yeji. Because you did. The heart might get shredded into a million pieces, but it will also put itself together again and the feelings it had held will not just vanish into thin air. But it was ok that you still loved her. You had walked a long road with each other. You had laughed, cried and made memories with each other. Just because the ending of a movie was sad, didn’t mean that the movie wasn’t worth watching.

And that realization helped you to forgive Yeji.

Therefore, you decided that you had to help her fix her heart as well. You were maybe not able to meet her eye to eye yet, but you needed to relief her, in order for you to be able to move on. Therefore, you wrote her a letter, capturing your feelings in every word and cleansing your body of all the things that were still tormenting it.

With the letter in your hand and the smell of a fresh start in the air, you made your way to Yeji’s dorm. You clenched the letter tightly in your hands, knowing that this was the ending of an era. Checking your letter one last time, you let your eyes wander across the paper.

Dear Yeji,

I want to start by saying that I’m sorry that I’m not saying all of this in person, but I’m still healing some wounds that need some treatment before I can say that I’m completely fine. But I don’t want you to worry. I’m getting there.

I know that your bad conscious is probably suffocating you right now, but I want to relieve you from it. I don’t blame you for the breakup. We both did our fair number of mistakes and no matter whether you had cheated on me or not, we probably wouldn’t have worked in the end. We have lied to ourselves for a long time now.

You were all that I knew.

So I held on to you, because letting go of you felt like letting go a part of myself. For the longest time, I was afraid of this step, but now I’ve realized that we have to cut things off sometimes to give new and better things the chance to grow in our life. We have to accept that it's a privilege but not a necessity that two people walk the same path their whole lives. All partings of ways are sad, but I gladly look back on the time that the universe has granted us together. You have helped to shape me into the person that I am today. Now, however, it’s time that we let each other go and allow the other to go new ways that we can’t go together.

After all, I needed to lose you to love me. I could never be the one that you needed. I was either too much or not enough, but never just right. I despised myself, thinking that something was wrong with me, but there wasn’t. We were simply two puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together, making us try to change ourselves and slowly suffocating each other. But if we let each other go now, we can find the place where we truly belong and I can try to learn myself like I loved you.

I hope that you can forgive yourself like I have forgiven you. Every ending is a new beginning and I know that there is a world full of adventures waiting for each of us.

Life has its own ways of going. And I’m sure that our paths will cross again, maybe in this life or the next.

I love you, Yeji. Now and forever.

Y/N

You smiled to yourself, before sliding the letter underneath Yeji’s door and sighting in relief. A huge weight was lifted off you and you felt like truly starting over now.

There was a world waiting for you out there and you were ready to claim it.

[paralume-game]

Can you give a brief description of each of the ROs? I know their names and what they look like, but who are they as people?

Hello. I sneaked past the gates of Hell (School) for a minute to hand out some more vague character descriptions, to keep you yearning. :)

_

Azalea

She's harsh and eloquent. Brisk in getting hold of a conversation, and turning it upside down at her desire.

You can see sheer knowledge swimming behind those inky dilated pupils, covering up her charming brown eyes, flecked with spots of gold.

Her long nails brush through her hair.

Slow and seductive.

Voluminous maroon locks bounce from the touch of her sharp black nails.

She flicks you a sultry smile, speaking in a suggestive tone,

"I'm a hunter, birdie."

She grabs a fistful of your attire, pulling you closer.

"Strong," she whispers.

Her red lips close in on yours, hot breath awakening dormant goosebumps all over your body. In this close proximity, you can watch her long lashes flutter against her dark bronze skin.

"Cunning," she continues.

She takes her time to regard all the details of your face, eyes flitting over every part, finally ending up on your lips.

She pulls back then, pushing you away harshly, so that you lose your balance. She's tittering.

Not attempting in the slightest to prevent your fall. Merely watching you descend, hitting the ground uncomfortably.

You stare up at her towering form, hovering above you, a feral smile adorning her full lips.

She makes you feel powerless.

Just by watching. By smiling. By touching.

She shakes her mane like a lion, satisfied with the hunt. Proud of the kill.

She doesn't have to plunge her nails into your skin to assert her reign.

"And dangerously alluring," she finishes, leaving you behind in the dirt.

You only hear the sound of her ruby red dress, fluttering in the breeze, before her shadow disappears entirely.

_

Azazel

His big hands stroke softly over fabric.

He wields the scissors in them with scrupulous skill.

His gaze is concentrated, but there's a mild hint of wonder swirling in his beautiful eyes.

The left one a mossy green, like the untamed ivy crawling up the walls of his home. Whereas a stripe of blue cuts through the right one, like a cool stream of water in a lush forest.

Excitement crawls between his ebony digits, daringly offering him to try something new, something outrageous.

Something that he will never show the world, but store deep in his own closet, concealed underneath a pile of earthy coloured garments.

Too striking for him to wear, too attention seeking.

He can't draw eyes toward him, there's nothing special to be seen there.

It would only be a mismatch of colours on him, just like his irises.

Fear shackles his hands with a tight grip, making him drop the scissors.

Doubt claws at his mind.

Why does he bother if the things he creates won't be appreciated? What does the process mean, if it's stagnant and dreary?

He picks the shears up once more, accidentally cutting his finger on the sharp metal blades.

A blotch of red glares up from the unfinished garb. Prominent. Striking.

He sets to finish the task. For his own sake only.

_

Nathan/Hanna

Sweet charity carries their voice, soft intimacy lies in their touch, and safety can be found in their embrace.

So soothing, that they could strangle you in their arms, without any alarming struggle or complain from you.

You'd simply melt further into their warmth.

Dark chocolate eyes will search for yours, tearing up with affection when they find you gazing back at them.

Brunette hair tickles your shoulders, as they lay their cheek upon it.

They're free of greed, always there to lend a hand, an ear, a word.

Never expecting anything in return.

A person so extremely caring, that they'd rather watch out for someone else, instead of taking care of their own soul.

It's quite difficult to not want to give anything back to them.

But your happiness is more than enough, they tell you. Your steadily beating heart is a song that soothes their own.

There lies grief deep within those words, plucking at your heartstrings.

They lie a hand on top of it, feeling its rhythm. Nursing its heat.

"I'm glad you're here with me," they whisper, with a smile dripping off their lips.

Brighter than day.

Though darker than usual.

The rest of the sentence remains as a barely audible movement of lips, quieter than a pin drop:

"Even though I don't deserve you."

_

Blaire

Nonchalant and uncaring, it seems.

Though there lies passion, as well as untold stories within their songs, and the images etched underneath their skin.

A garden of Milkweed and birds of paradise wind up their arms. Quotes, lettering, critters, and silly doodles peek through their leaves.

Swallows fly a detour over their neck, wings outstretched.

Their creativity shapes whole cities, entire worlds, even.

Radiant places, filled with vivid buildings, reaching for the skies. And bustling streets, each blot of colour in them representing a person. Souls containing tall tales.

They shake their damp black hair out of their eyes, grazing the canvas with the tip of their brush in the process.

A sigh chimes.

Out of annoyance from observing the invading orange line on the side of a skyscraper, now a glowing pile of rubble, extending toward the heavens.

It strikes an idea in them, their strokes picking up speed.

Do those wrecks reach for the stars?

Scrape at them, to get a taste of space dust? The Flavour of impossibility melting on their tongues.

They take a step back from the canvas, taking in a drawing, which depicts... hope, mostly. If they had to pick a word.

A reoccurring theme to be found in their creations.

And yet, whenever their dark eyes, black like ink, fall on their pieces of work after the finishing touch, there's but a pinch of yearning to be found in them.

Yearning for the world outside this town they're in, desire to lose these invisible shackles around their feet, binding them to this forsaken place.

Their hands grab the sides of the easel, throwing it to the side.

Wet paint clings to wooden flooring, as the image and restless footsteps hit the ground.

Acrylic dries on overpriced vintage clothes.

Ash hits a tray. Nicotine fills lungs.

And eyelids close reluctantly.

_

Willow

They look cold and brittle. Thin and tired. The bags underneath their eyes grow evermore, every day.

Development that is caused by the indifference toward concealing them.

"What for?" They'd reply, if you would ask, voice light.

Then they'd try to brush stark white hair out of their icy eyes.

Suddenly revealing their blue brilliance, surrounded by signs of fatigue, as they pluck the strands behind their pointy ears.

Knowing them, you're sure it's their way of telling you that it's alright to be tired.

It's okay to be exhausted.

They are too, after all.

They'd flick you a smile, if you'd mull over the answer. Sharp canines, usually hidden behind light pink lips, peeping through.

They're always trying to keep up a distant exterior, mysterious as the forest encircling the both of you.

Though you know well that they are as caring as can be.

Worrying deep into the night about the wellbeing of people that they love.

You can observe their deep-rooted care and patience especially well in how they tend to their father's garden.

Always patiently searching for and plucking away weeds, or assiduously watering the earth with a perfectly estimated amount of water.

With a white cloak sporting dark brown stains. Certainly one of the few times on which it isn't in an impeccable shape.

They're concerned about each being trying to prosper in such an unforgiving world. They also hold a special concern for your steady level of idiocy. Although they have learnt to become fond of it, flat out cherish it. In secret, of course.

Even so, they can not will themself to reach the same level of foolishness- dare they say 'careless freedom', as you.

For underneath the wise, hardworking, pale façade lies the mere face of a scared child.

[calliope-love-corner]

Last Words

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

When the world began to shift, I felt it. We all did. The wide open sky began to twitch and writhe, and we all felt its agony as it all too suddenly lost its grip on the world. Blood-soaked, I remember looking up. Safe from harm in the web’s favor on my pilgrimage to hilltop road, I felt the change. The wasted world I wandered shifted, and I looked to the angry sky. I felt the end approaching. 

An enormous black mass of hair and spider- much bigger than it was in the old world- guided me to her. It had been guiding me since she left, searching for its other half. Looking for its core. It’s home. I knew there was a reason she had me hold the thing so long ago. 

It felt the change too. All at once, it started to squirm and shift like the beholding empty sky.

I saw the mountain up ahead. Up in the mist sat the old house. If the world was getting ready to change, I was running out of time. I was probably already too late. But I’ll be damned if I came all this way and didn’t at least try.

Every muscle ached. Despite my body’s protests, bat clutched tight in blistered hand, I broke into a run, pressing on up the rocks. Icy wind stung at my face and hands, my heart pounded, my lungs screamed out for mercy. The air felt like it was carrying me up the cliff with each strained step up.

A ribbon blew in the wind in the corner of my bleary eyes. Not a ribbon- a tape. I follow its line up, and watched it weave in and out and around and through the rocks.

A crash, an explosion, a gust of air threatening to knock me off my ascent. I held fast to the flying tape and the rock face and gave it a tug. It held. I tugged harder. It did not falter. I grit my teeth and use it to pull myself farther up and up and up the rocks.

Another crash. The mountain under me shifted. I let out a choked, terrified sob, and cast aside my bat. I look down for the first time, and suddenly, the ground is very, very far away. I watch it clatter down the rocks and disappear through the fog out of sight. How long had I been climbing for? Surely not long enough to be this high. 

I reach my free hand up and grasp at a net of tapes, tangling my raw and blistered fingers in them. I desperately claw forward, grappling for another grip, struggling for a foothold. On and on and up and up I push until the rock face has become a net of tape- a web. 

Higher and higher, faster and faster, tears roll down my red cheeks. I pull and step and climb in rhythm. I’m here, I think. Annabelle, I’m here. Please don’t go yet, I’m right here. 

The ground starts to even out. I pull myself up and over and take in a sharp breath of freezing cold thin air. I want so badly to lay down and breathe and just rest but I am running out of time. The spider on my shoulder urges me onward. I crawl to my feet, legs shaking and tripping over intricately woven nets of tape. I hold fast as the earth shakes again. Heart pounding, I call out to her. 

“Annabelle!” I cry. My voice does not echo, though it feels like it should. The webs of tape wind together to form a cavern around the skeleton of what once was hilltop road. My throat tightens as the air is blown from my aching lungs. I stifle another sob and press on.

I trudge through the cave as fast as I can, wind whipping through my hair, sticking with sweat and tears to my forehead and neck. As I am about to call out again, I see her. The cavern opens up into what once was a wooden room. There is no floor- only a swirling typhoon of wind and rain and tapes and everything and nothing all at once. A monster stares back at me from across the gorge, clinging comfortably but wearily to the web walls. A monster that looked like she could have once been the love of my life, with 8 gleaming black eyes and giant mandibles and sharp venomous fangs and 8 spindly legs that hung just over the black hole out of our world looked back at me, and in those eyes, I saw fear. For the first time ever, Annabelle Cane was afraid. Annabelle Cane did not know what would happen. She did not really ever know what came now. She did not know what came after her plan followed through. Annabelle Cane hesitated at the edge of reality because she was afraid. 

I couldn’t hold back. My legs shook for a moment before giving out and I fell to my knees, dry, aching sobs wracking my body. I reached out to her. 

“Annabelle, please-!” I plead over the deafening wind. “You don’t have to do this!” 

“Calliope…” I read her lips. The ground shook harder than ever as the pull towards the rift doubled in strength. I buried my hands in the webbing, holding strong. 

“Annabelle!” I cry out again, hot tears rolling down my face. My voice is hoarse.

Annabelle searches my hurting eyes, and realizes something she hadn’t accounted for. She travels with the fears out of the world, or she dies here- that she knows. But very suddenly, she comes to the realization that she does not want either. A year ago, she would have taken either option without hesitation if it meant the web’s plan came to fruition. But not now. Now, as she prepares herself for the end, staring into the glassy blue eyes of the only other person that loved her despite everything, who followed her to the ends of the earth at risk of themself and everything they cared for, who tried so hard to love her as a human being until even after the end of days, Annabelle Cane does not want to go. 

“Please, god, don’t go-!” My voice begins to falter, my desperate cries devolving into whimpers. “I need you, please, don’t go with them-”

Annabelle feels her arachnid throat tighten of its own accord. Different from when she would cry to get her way as a child, different than when she would tug at any pawn’s heartstrings with welled-up eyes and a breaking voice, Annabelle Cane began to cry. Her transformation reverses itself, monstrous legs receding into bulbous abdomen receding into a terrified woman who never asked for this. Her eyes and fangs and exoskeleton shift and reshape into a familiar, gorgeous, scared face. Once confident and sure, Annabelle nervously clings tight to her web. I watch her adjust her footing and back as far away from the rift as possible. She looks to me with wide pitch-black glassy eyes.

“I’m… scared.” She murmurs. 

“I know, god, I know-” I force out between sobs, a melancholic smile spread across my blood and tear-stained face. “I know you are. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“I… I’ll fall, Cal.” Annabelle says, louder this time. Her voice wavers. I crawl forward to the very edge of the landing. 

“I’ll catch you, I promise I will!” I reach my arm out against the hurricane of wind. “Please, jump, I’ll catch you- it’ll be alright!” 

Annabelle chances a shaky step closer to the ledge. 

“I’ll die anyway-” She says. “Cal, I don’t want to go, and I don’t want to die. I’m so scared.” 

I try and fail to hold back another sob. “I know you don’t. Annabelle, I promise, everything is going to be okay. Please, god, jump to me-!” I reach my arm out as far as it can go.

She takes another shaky step forward. 

“...promise?” 

“I promise!!” I call out. And like that, Annabelle jumps. The pull of the rift is strong. I grasp her hand tight and pull and pull and pull her up with my last bit of strength, I pull her up and over onto solid ground, grasping at her arms, her shirt, anything to get a strong grip so I don’t lose her. Not again. 

She rolls over to safety, and I hold her tight, sobbing into her arms. I feel her body shaking as she cries hard too. I grip at her white satin shirt now stained red with my dried blood as if letting go would lose her to me forever. 

“I’ll die without the web.” She says in my ear over the wind.

“Shut up. No you won’t.” I whine. I hold her tighter. She runs a hand through my matted, greasy hair, and holds my head tight to hers. It isn’t close enough.

“But… I get to say goodbye. And that’s enough for me, I think.” 

Somehow, I sob harder. I hate goodbyes. This one hurts more than any other, somehow. 

“No, no, no-” I urge. “No, please don’t die, I- I can’t do this without you. I can’t do anything without you, I need you-” 

Annabelle pets my head, and pulls away to look me in the eyes, despite my protests. She cradles my face. 

“You don’t, darling. You’re going to be just fine. When all of this is over, you’ll find the others, and life will go on.” 

I shake my head. She smiles at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. I can see in her eyes that she’s putting on a brave face for me. “It will. I love you, Cal, and… it’s the end, so I suppose now you know I really mean it. I’m so sorry you ever had to question that. You deserve assurance, and love, and safety, and all of the wonderful things the world has to offer, because- because you are wonderful, Cal, and-” 

Her façade starts to break. I know she means it. I know she always has. She’s so scared to die. 

“And you changed me. You made me better. You made me more human than I ever have been. God, just look at me. This is you. This is real, and human, and- and it’s love. I feel now because you loved me. I love you because you loved me. That is more than I could have ever wanted. This is my good end, Cal. You gave me a good ending. You made me something I can die proud of.”

I wrap my arms tight around her, refusing to let go for anything. The wind crescendos around us. It’s time. We both feel it.

“I’m not ready.” I bury my face in her neck.

“No one ever is.” 

I feel her lips press against my head, warm and safe and assuring. I drink her in. 

All at once, the sky shatters into nothing. The ground tears open and shakes and the web around us collapses. The great eyes weep cold, agonizing tears that fall heavy to the earth and quell the fire and flames. There is light- bright and hot and loud and cleansing, and I hold my lover tight one last time,

And then there is nothing.

>> Part 2

>> Part 3 (to be written)

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch.3

Summary: Addison’s experience at the 422nd Quidditch World cup.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley X OC (not really in this chapter)

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: This is a shorter chapter, but I really enjoyed writing it. If you’ve been following along: thank you so much! I can’t wait to let the rest of this story unfold. I have so much written. Some dialog in this chapter comes from the original works.  

As the day wore on, the excitement amongst the ever-growing crowd of wizards around me multiplied. When the sun began to go down, it boiled over and all pretense of a muggle façade was dropped. Merchants for both teams were Apparating here and there, carrying armloads of hats with dancing shamrocks and red scarves with lions that really roared. Children flew through the rows on toy brooms that only rose a few feet off the ground. Surely the ministry would be modifying a few memories before it was all said and done. 

 The Weasley bunch left us a little early with Harry and Hermione in tow, to be able to make their way up to the Top Box to sit with the Minister of Magic and a few other top officials who organized the Cup. Harry looked about as excited as I felt, gazing around at the scene in wonder as they walked away through the crowd. 

It soon came time for us to head into the woods towards what I assumed would be a pretty large stadium. Mr. Abbott led Hannah, Charlie and me onto a trail that was magnificently lit with floating lanterns. The excitement of the thousands of people, all walking through the trees, was contagious. A smile had spread across my face from ear to ear and there was no chance of losing it. There were chants supporting both teams, laughter, and from a little further off, a lighthearted song in favor of the Irish. 

We walked like this for a few minutes before I began to be able to pick out glimpses of a gargantuan stadium through the trees ahead. As we grew closer, I got a sense of just how big it was. 

 “Mr. Abbot,” I called to him, a few feet ahead of me, “Just how many people does this stadium hold?” 

 “A hundred thousand!” he replied gleefully. 

 A hundred thousand. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that there were a hundred thousand magical people on the globe, let alone at one event. Magical communities were so few and far between in Britain, and there were so few students at Hogwarts, that I had assumed we had relatively small numbers. 

 The golden walls surrounding the field rose higher and higher in front of me as we approached. A stream of wizards narrowed into one of the nearest entrances in front of us. A ministry witch at the gate peered down at the tickets Mr. Abbott handed her. 

 “Not too bad, not too bad. Straight up the stairs, about halfway up, there’ll be someone there to show you to your seats,” she said and waved us through. 

 We began our climb upwards on the carpeted stairs amongst the tight crowd of people. People exited through doors at various levels and filed into the stands. About half way up the height of the stadium, Mr. Abbott said “Ah, here we are,” and led us through a doorway. He handed another Ministry worker our tickets, and we were pointed into a long row of folding seats.

 As we sat, I looked out over the field and marveled at the sight of a hundred thousand wizards all taking their seats around me. The entire stadium seemed to be bathed in a marvelous golden light. The field was a smooth green lake below us, and the stands rose like a fortress above us. We were seated about halfway up, and halfway between the towering golden goalposts. Beautiful gold script danced across a huge blackboard at the top of the stadium on the side across from us that flashed various advertisements for magical goods and services. 

 I was in absolute awe. I tried to remember why I ever felt guilty for loving this life, and I couldn’t. The scene in front of me was almost too good to be true. The excitement radiating through the stands was tangible. My cheeks were aching from smiling so widely, but I knew they’d be getting no relief anytime soon. 

 Before I knew it, the voice of Ludo Bagman was audible over the roaring of the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen… welcome!” The crowd exploded in response and Bagman waited for the noise level to go back down before continuing. “Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” 

 Flags of green and scarlet waved all around the stadium as fans clapped and cheered. The blackboard across the stadium was wiped clean of the golden advertisements and they were replaced with BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0. 

 “And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce…” Mr.Bagman’s voice shouted, “the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!” 

 The Bulgaria side, an endless sea of scarlet, erupted in excitement. At that moment, a least a hundred beautiful women strutted out onto the field. 

 “Their mascots are women?” I leaned in and asked Charlie. 

 “They’re Veela! Look closer!” She shouted back over the deafening crowd. 

 I started to ask her what Veela were, but I was immediately distracted by the perfection of the creatures on the field. Charlie, was right, they definitely weren’t regular women. Their skin looked like porcelain that was reflected in a most beautiful moonlight. The platinum, white-gold hair that hung down their backs splayed out behind them like they were walking in front of a wind-machine. I had never seen such dazzling creatures. 

 And then they started to dance. They twisted their bodies and moved across the field as if their feet weren’t touching the ground. It was such a wonderful display of beauty that I couldn’t tear my eyes away. That was, until Charlie’s voice cut into the blissful emptiness that had overcome my mind. 

 “Dad? Dad, what’re you doing?” she asked. 

 “Huh?” Mr. Abbott had risen from his seat and looked like he was about to swan dive off the edge of the wall in front of him. He blinked like he had just woken up from an incredibly confusing dream. He cleared his throat, “Goodness, forgive me. Those Veela, they’re really something aren’t they?” 

 His face flushed red with embarrassment, but as I gazed around the stadium, it seems that he had no reason to. About every man in the stadium had risen from their seats and were in varying states of trying to climb down the rows in front of them to get to the field. The Veela dance came to an end, and all around me, people began to wake up the way Mr. Abbott did. 

 “And now,” Ludo roared over the crowd, “kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!” 

 As the words left his mouth, a great ball of gold and green light burst into the stadium. It did one full lap around the perimeter and then broke off into two smaller orbs and shot towards the goalposts on the ends. Then, just as suddenly as the balls of light had appeared, a magnificent rainbow arced down and connected the two. Hannah, Charlie, and I gazed in amazement, along with the rest of the crowd. 

 The rainbow faded and was replaced by a giant shimmering shamrock, that rose high into the sky and began doing laps over the stands. A beautiful golden rain seemed to be falling from beneath it as it flew. When it soared over us, I realized they were Galleons, the biggest and most valuable of the wizard currency. 

 “Goodness!” I exclaimed as I ducked out of the way of the heavy gold coins.

 “You won’t want to pick any of that up,” yelled Mr. Abbott to me over the girls’ heads. “That’s fools gold!” 

 “Fools gold?” I hollered back and squinted up at the shamrock. 

 “They’re leprechauns!” As soon as he said it, I realized that the entire shape was made up of hundreds and hundreds of tiny bearded men, all holding a small lamp of gold or green. Many people around the stadium were scrambling around, and it looked like a few fights had even broken out over the gold. 

 “It’ll disappear before the night is out,” said Charlie, “That’s why it’s fool’s gold, only a fool would think they’d rain down millions of real Galleons at the World Cup.” 

 The giant shamrock finished its parade, and the leprechauns put out their lanterns to drift down onto the opposite side of the field as the Veela. 

 Ludo Bagman then welcomed the Bulgarian and Irish players to the field, but my eyes never left Krum. His thick black hair shone in the golden light that I still hadn’t found the source of. He looked much too big to be able to control his broom with such precision. He didn’t even look nervous, he looked like the whole thing was beneath him. 

 The match began as flashes of scarlet and green raced around the field. Bagman tried to keep up with quaffle, but they played at such speed that he only had time to say the player’s names. “It’s Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!” 

 I had never seen such a display of skill and athleticism. The speed of the players was so great that my eyes were having trouble following them. Ireland scored three times within the first ten minutes of the match, and I could see why. They worked flawlessly as a unit, rather than individual players. It was simply amazing. 

 A while later, Ireland was pummeling Bulgaria. They were up 170 to 10, with no intention of going easy on the players in red. Krum had just had his nose smashed by taking a bludger square in the face. The official had been distracted by a Veela who had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom ablaze. Blood sprayed out from behind Krum has he flew through the air.

 Suddenly, Lynch, the Irish seeker had gone into a dive. It mimicked the Wronski Feint that Krum had used earlier in the game to get Lynch to crash into the field, but this dive had much more purpose to it. 

 “Look, Lynch is after the snitch!” I cried and pointed towards the streak of green rushing down at the field. Irish supporters, including the Abbotts screamed in support of their seeker. However, Krum was right behind him. Blood covered his face, and I wondered how he had any earthly idea what direction the snitch was in. He was catching up to Lynch though, every milisecond that passed gaining another few feet. As they drew level, they were hurtling towards the ground at an impossible speed, and I sensed a second crash coming. 

 I was at least partly right, as Lynch collided with the ground with a thud that I swore I could hear over the roaring crowd. A mob of vicious Veela, so different from the beautiful creatures they were when they took the field, surrounded Lynch and blocked him from view. 

 Krum rose slowly into the air, blood still pouring from his nose like a faucet someone forgot to turn off. The tiny golden snitch was clasped between his fingers in a raised fist. My eyes flashed up to the scoreboard and my heart dropped; BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170. 

 The Ireland supporters slowly began to realize what had happened and a deafening roar came from the green in the crowd. 

 “IRELAND WINS!” Exclaimed the voice of Ludo Bagman, obviously surprised by the sudden end to such an exciting match. “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH – BUT IRELAND WINS – good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”

 The Abbotts next to me began jumping up and down and cheering with the rest of the people dressed in green. 

 “Blimey!” yelled Charlie. “Wonder what he did that for?” 

 I knew exactly why Krum caught the snitch when the Bulgarians were 160 points behind. He saw that they were being destroyed by the Irish, and he wanted to end it himself, before it got any more messy. 

 “What a match, eh Addison?” called Mr. Abbott from over Charlie’s head, “bet you didn’t expect that one. That Krum is a wonder though, I’ll admit.” 

 I felt slightly deflated, a feeling that usually came to me after we lost our own quidditch match at school. I had really been hoping for Bulgaria to win, but seeing Krum beat Lynch to the snitch almost made up for it. 

 Suddenly it dawned on me that Fred and George had won their bet. Against all odds, Ireland had won, but Krum caught the snitch. They’d probably be rich after they got done with Bagman. A small grin spread across my face as I realized this is the outcome I should have preferred. 

 The Irish supporters were already beginning to celebrate as we made our way back down the purple carpeted stairs. I’d have to congratulate Fred and George on their win. I’m sure the high they were riding right then was on a whole different level than the rest of the fans. The joyous energy pouring from the sea of green in front of me was infectious. The night was still young, and I couldn’t help but have the feeling that the most exciting part of my world cup experience was yet to come.

[exactlyenoughglitter]

The Pied Piper of the Night City

AO3

There’s a gentle rain downtown.

She has been wandering from district to district, exploring aimlessly after dropping off the package: walking, occasionally hitching a ride, and then walking again. It is getting late and the endless stream of crowds under the neon shades of the night has changed its face somewhat.

Today there are fires in the streets, right here, in one of the centres of the sprawling city where the buildings rise the highest as a reminder of a time when this place did not belong to the people yet. It still really does not – she can hear sirens in the distance – but for the moment it looks almost like it does, and that’s good enough for her, since she is only passing through. There is electricity in the air, and passion and music, and she is drawn to the fires around which the people dance. It could be Beltane if it were not November and if there wasn’t a tangible undercurrent of danger to the grinning faces, painted lips, and razor-sharp eyes that gleam with wetness when they are real and with lens-polish when they are not. True blasphemy – she likes it.

She sneaks a bottle off a slow giant who’s engaged in conversation at the street food stall that’s been revamped into a kind of makeshift bar, and disappears into the crowd. Surprised by how strong the alcohol is, making her seriously question the recipes of Mahakam, she takes another swig for good measure before letting the carafe drop. A woman with short, indigo hair and neat, little gill implants on both sides of her slender neck throws hers into the fire - alongside many others whom the fancy has taken. She smiles at her knowingly. The flames erupt to the joy of the dancers and a buzz runs down Ciri’s spine; she returns the smile quickly and takes a left.

The colours of the falling night become moodier and the music becomes louder, faster, more incoherent in a mixture of recordings that drone and beat down upon the doors of her heart. It drizzles and the fumes of the fires dizzy the mind, yet nobody cares. She lets the heady mix of noise and emotion take her by the hand and pull her in, and she laughs as she mixes and mingles with people in colourful outfits boasting odd gear, eye-catching piercings and just fabulous jewellery – both men and women! She wants them and they want her. Everything feels effortless in this exciting new world.

Manoeuvring between warm bodies, heady with lust for life and desire for each other, she thinks she can really be anyone for once; just pretend a little, and try it out when a handsome stranger touches her elbow and wedges in-between her and the redhead who has been holding her captive so far. Let them chase her in the shadows of the city, try and hold onto her, guide her – she will dance on whether they leave or stay. Let them follow her and the music inside her head, bewitched and enhcanted. She wants the night, and all it has to offer, all to herself; and she can have it here, where the lonely and the holy come to meet.

And why not after all?

She will walk in someone else’s shoes for a while, speak someone else’s words, and feel free and unrestrained before she abandons it all again. Like a demon in the dark. This right here is what destiny is made of, she wants to tell him – these moments she chooses to lose herself in. But he would never come here, she thinks, even though she briefly imagines catching a glimpse of his tall and slender figure in the crowd, unmistakable for her no matter the time and place. And it sows the seeds of challenge in her heart.

Until, above the ocean of space and light, she catches the rich, wind-chime melodies of familiar pipes.

-

He sets the beloved instrument aside, staring at the steel silhouette of the city that carves itself through the smoke like a carcass brimming with a million void fires.

A carcass deeming not even with cockroaches but with a plague. A virus of 13.3 billion that has constructed this buzzing, chiming, banal and noxious world, overflowing with live matter that devours itself from second to second, and where everything – everything – is freakishly distinctive, while still nothing is. A world where the light of the stars was far outshone by the synthetic glow, captured within infinitely similar, gargantuan golems of steel and glass that had hooked their claws into the skies above and pulled them down to their level. The handiwork of shrewd monkey inventors. And he, a magician, is sitting on top the wreckage of the recently exploded façade of one of these steel giants with darkness above him and the sky at his feet, playing his pipes and finding no comfort in his own music in all this noise.

Everything was upside down in this world.

The local authorities had hastily sealed the place up for further investigation it seems, because much of what remained intact after the fires of whatever tore itself through the multi-floored apartment’s outer walls had been left untouched. Besides expensive fabrics, ruined murals on ceilings, various frivolous interior design elements, and the castrated, potted greenery, there were even remains of art to be found here; of abstract and suggestive variety. Art, and the history of simulacrum technology. Whoever owned the place had vain, luxurious tastes in short, and that suited his preferences, though he did not particularly like anything that surrounded him in this world at any given point in time. He was still very curious though, and simply had to know.

So he pressed some buttons to hear what the place sounded like, and if it did at all anymore.

Forgotten souls in suburban city lights You lose your sense of time, where are you now?

A loud crash. Pivoting around he meets a face that is doing its best to hide all evidence of mischief and devilry, but the spilt red still washes down the parquetry. Ah, she had finally gotten bored then.

Don’t you realize your rage has gone too far?

‘Found something?’

She covers her mouth in shameless, feigned embarrassment, and nods. There is not a shred of an apology in her insolent eyes.

‘You wouldn’t want it,’ she dismisses him, all farce and parody. ‘Especially now that I’ve had some; poison chalices and all that.’ How violently self-deprecating and proud. And how little care she has.

 The truth behind the bars lies poisoning your brain.

She takes to the music instantly, chirping happily as she gives herself over to the melody as if he wasn’t there, as if she had not just smashed a bottle of very fine liqueur all over the place. Of course it doesn't matter – when had the integrity of places and people she storms through ever bothered her?

It begins imperceptibly, almost without any warning at all. Humming to herself with her eyes closed, turning and stepping to the thudding beat of the electric bass, she veers off balance every now and again, though that only seems to add to her merriment.

He blinks.

Listen to what I say If you are in the streets of time counting the hours You must listen and learn the secrets of flowers

In the faint glow of the artificial light of gigantic billboards above the streets, Ciri dances to her own heart’s delight. Just as indulgently as by the street fires, though far removed from the desperation of the animals now. A whirl of ash and mulberry, tempestuous and lively. He notices her hair has come loose; it curls around her flushed neck, wild and unruly where wind and rain have visited it, and yet it remains very inviting. He gets the sudden urge to touch her, run his fingers up the back of her neck and hear her make the happy, surprised noise again. Would she dance to him like this if he played to her?

You look still confused, the whirlwinds shake your head Like turbulence in the air, you wonder who you are

Sparkling glass crackles under her heels, but the Swallow steps on, andante, swinging from one masticated wall to another as he watches. Not one would dare challenge her in the midst of all this impromptu pleasure anyhow, and in the corner of her eye, he catches the carefree, mocking look she is sending him. The temptation to look inside her mind grows too great to resist.

There is no one around

He walks through spilled drink, kicking aside the shattered glass. Catching her mid twirl he takes her hand, squeezing softly, and draws her into a different kind of dance. One he would have taught her eventually had she remained with them. The music changes at the wave of his hand and the girl squeals in surprise, shooting him an astonished look. Then bursts into laughter – openly and easily.

It is quite intolerable – this savage playfulness. He would much prefer she sulked and drew away when he interrupts her drunken revelry, for her embarrassment continues to offer him some kind of perverse, sadistic pleasure. It also makes it easier to remember that she is only a silly child, a wild thing that makes up with self-abandon what she lacks in thoughtfulness and grace. Instead, he stares, taken aback and distracted by her unexpected reaction that does not conform to his fantasies.

Try to understand No need to pretend

She slips from his arms, just a little, and invites him to come after her and meld the intent behind his steps with hers. Accommodate her and learn her. Share in her little dance with her. Thus, he bows to her extravagantly, as is befitting of him before the princess of time and space. Oh, how very familiar she feels. Her pulse rapid as a bird’s and her mind swirling with desire, challenge, and simple, shameless joy. Taking her by the waist, he discovers that he does not altogether mind learning from her tonight in this strange upside down world. They have time.

For who would find them here? No one - he has made sure of that.

And she is not going anywhere, he thinks, as he pursues the rare happiness of her large, emerald eyes over the broken shards hiding underneath, onto which spill her intoxication and his obsession. He will not let anyone snatch her from him; will not release her this time.

He wants so very many things with her, and there will be time for that. Tonight though, under artificial lights, above red blood beating hearts, he lets her lead him in this dance and forget about Destiny despite holding hands with it. His poisoned chalice. His little Lara.

No need to pretend